Last night marked my first visit to Safeco Field, where Seattle’s Mariners play professional baseball. I’m not a huge fan, but my friend and fellow blogger Meryl Pearlstein and her son are on a mission to see games in every stadium across the country. They scored a free ticket for me.

Apparently the Mariners don’t have too much of a reputation. I was honestly more excited about something at Safeco field that does win national props: the food. I had read in several places that the stadium had received high marks for the variety and quality of the concessions, so I planned on eating dinner there.

I had to laugh, though, when I saw some of the offerings. On a recent Top Chef, Tom Colicchio and others dinged cheftestant Angelo for putting his pork sandwich on a hot dog bun because the doughy bread soaked up all the juices. At the time, my husband and I debated if any other meat besides a hot dog would work on a bun. My question was answered last night. Behold: the Ivar dog.

From this picture, the Ivar dog might look like a simple fish sandwich. What you aren’t seeing is the pile of cole slaw underneath the fish. The wet slaw melds into the bun, so you get a nice tasty bite (although get lots of napkins, as it’s pretty drippy).

In that same episode, guest chef judge Rick Moonen wondered if raw fish belonged at a ballpark. Well, in Seattle where Asian is the dominant ethnic cuisine, it’s a no-brainer. There’s even a sushi roll named for player Ichiro (although I couldn’t bring myself to try it…I’m with Rick, I’m not sure sushi will ever become my go-to stadium food).

Where else do you see ballpark patrons regularly wielding chopsticks? The stadium also has typical Seattle touches, such as composting cans, several vegetarian booths (hummus gyro, anyone?) and lots of craft beer for sale. There’s even a wine bar (why do I not see this going over in Philly?)

I meant to try the stadium’s famous garlic fries, but after seeing a plate of french fries laden with bits of raw garlic, I just couldn’t hack it. The stadium reeked of garlic already and the thought of contributing to the stench was just too much.

Garlic fry stench aside, Safeco Field seemed very family friendly. While there were pockets of excited fans, most seemed to be more on the Pacific Northwest laid-back side (as opposed to the aggressive, in-your-face Phillies fans that I’ve been around lately). I liked the get-to-know-the-players fun facts that appeared on the scoreboard when each person came to bat.

The open bullpen was also a treat. You can go down to the first level and watch the players through a fence as they warm up and sit in the dugout. Meryl told me that she’d never been to another ballpark where you could get so close to the players. I’m sure that visiting teams hate it – the players for the Angels were taking a verbal drubbing from some smartass fans – but it certainly makes professional athletes seem more accessible (although there’s a little bit of an “animal in a zoo” effect).

All in all, going to a Mariners game is a worthwhile experience, even if you don’t care so much about the team. Now all they have to do is win.

Would you eat sushi at a ballpark? Or are you a traditionalist? Tell me in the comments.

Today marks the fifth anniversary of the failure of the levee system that occurred in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina.

Note the way that I’m phrasing that: It’s a deliberate reminder that the floodwaters that swept through huge swaths of the city came from a breakdown of man-made levees, rather than natural causes. It’s a distinction that’s become more important as time has worn on.

Regular readers here know that I love New Orleans and return every year for at least a weekend, not only to see old friends, but to reacquaint myself with a place that played a big role in my personal development. You can’t change New Orleans, the saying goes, but the city sure can do a number on you, for better or worse. My six years there taught me much about le bon temps roule philosophy, which goes something like this: life’s too short not to eat well, always follow the music, and if an old Cajun man asks you to dance, for God’s sake, go with it.

I’ve kept a post on 5 Reasons to Visit New Orleans up on my home page for more than six months now, primarily because I think everyone should visit at least once and I always appreciate comments from people who are either going there or who have just returned. The post is looking a little out of date now, though (turns out Angelina did stay with Brad after all), so I’m replacing it with 5 MORE reasons to travel to the Crescent City. Even though my next trip isn’t slated until next March (Mardi Gras, y’all!), I always know what it means to miss New Orleans, and I hope that you do too.

1. No other city faces down a threat with such creativity and elan. I visited New Orleans in June, at the height of the British Petroleum crisis in the Gulf and people could talk of little else. What’s interesting about New Orleans in the post-Katrina era is that there’s a new spirit of activism that gets into gear when outside threats arise. City leaders, the local media and countless citizen activists kept the spill at the forefront, demanding attention at a national level. And I can’t think of another place other than possibly San Francisco that would organize such a creative protest as the second line that the Krewe of Dead Pelicans put forth.

2. Despite the issues with BP and seafood, there are still amazing places to eat. One of the best things about NOLA is that good food can be found almost anywhere. Yes, that photo is of my husband enjoying a full-out jazz brunch splurge at Commander’s Palace.

But we had equally amazing po-boys at Parasol’s, a bar in the Irish Channel , and gumbo at Frankie & Johnny’s. Both places look like they’re about ready to fall over, which is one thing I love about the city – it challenges your preconceptions.

3.If there’s a more pleasant way to while away a humid evening than drinking cocktails on a balcony overlooking the French Quarter or St. Charles Avenue, I have yet to find it.What people don’t understand about New Orleans’ drinking culture is that it’s NOT about how many hurricanes you can down on Bourbon Street. It’s about taking the time to kick back with friends both old and new, smelling the night jasmine on a warm breeze as you sip your cocktail or Abita.

4.Music still informs the patterns of everyday life.One of the best things about the HBO series Treme is that it really shows the gig economy of New Orleans musicians. Even though many musicians left after the storm, there’s still an incredible number of people who play because their creative and professional lives depend upon it. New Orleans still moves to the beat of a different drummer, so thank goodness there’s still a fair number of them out there.

5. Because a Katrina tour these days is as much about rebirth as it is about tragedy. On my June trip, I rented a car and took my husband through the places that had suffered the most during the flood: the Lakeview, parts of New Orleans East as well as the Lower 9th Ward. While the empty lots show evidence of where the waters were, what’s more impressive are the new homes that have sprung up, despite everything. It’s an inspiring testimonial to the lure of home, and to the tenacity that the people who remain in New Orleans have shown during the past five years. Respect.

As always, I’d love to hear your New Orleans travel experiences…feel free to leave them in the comments.

I finally saw Eat Pray Love, the travel it-movie of the year based on the best-selling memoir from Elizabeth Gilbert, last weekend. For the few people out there who aren’t familiar with the plot, Gilbert spends a year recovering from a failed marriage and relationship by eating pasta in Italy, meditating at an ashram in India and finally finding new love in Bali, Indonesia.

I didn’t care for the Gilbert’s book, primarily because I disliked the narrator. Self-indulgent and whiny, she reminded me of the type of woman who might go to the museum with you, but spend all her time craning her head for cute boys. Someone who would leave you stranded without a ride home because she sneaked off with the guy who bought her a drink. Someone who tells you all about their drama over too many glasses of chardonnay but never asks you a single question. Definitely not a person who I’d want to to take on a trip.

I thought I’d like the movie better, if only because Julia Roberts always seems like someone who would be fun to have dinner with. Plus I figured I wouldn’t be able to resist the  money shots from the different countries, as most of the movie was shot on location.

But I knew I wasn’t going to like it when the opening lines told us that Gilbert, a traveling writer, has gone all over the world – and found that people she met mostly talked about their relationships, despite their culture. Really? She must be hanging out with the wrong people. In my travels, I meet men and women alike who talk with passion about their businesses and their hobbies, their friends and children, books they’ve read and places they’ve seen. And sometimes, their relationships, of course. But it’s usually not the sole topic of conversation.

The other thing that struck me is that while Gilbert’s character has often been held up as being brave for leaving home and traveling solo, her trip was really one of the least ballsy choices that she could have made. Think about it: she already was a  well-traveled writer, used to be sent on assignment to different countries. She had been to Indonesia on her own before, the movie points out, and those of us familiar with her story know that she left with a book contract about her upcoming adventures under her belt. During times of stress, her instincts led more toward flight than fight.

For someone with this personality type, taking off isn’t the hardest thing to do. Staying put is. Watching Julia Roberts flit from one guy to another, I thought that marriage counseling would have been the far more courageous act for her than a round-the-world plane ticket.

Now that’s not to say that the people who have found inspiration in Gilbert’s tale have been hoodwinked. For many people, setting off on an extended trip by yourself is a challenging prospect, one that will both inspire and madden and force you to grow. Travel can provide valuable life lessons. But so can commitment. Or being a long-term caregiver or a parent or a community activist or, really, having any type of career that you love.

The times when you find yourself really making a stretch are the ones where you purposefully make hard choices and live with the consequences. And the movie made it seem that Gilbert was following her default defense mechanism instead of confronting her real issues.

I’m interested in knowing what you think of Eat, Pray, Love, either the movie or the book. Did you relate to Gilbert and her quest, or not?

Last year, the group – led by Debbie Dubrow of Delicious Baby, Beth Whitman of Wanderlust and Lipstick, Michelle Duffy of Wandermom and Pam Mandel of Nerds Eye View - raised nearly $30,000 to build a school in Preah Vihear, a rural area in northern Cambodia. Because Passports With Purpose reached more than double their goal of $13,000, they were also able to provide the kids there with a school nurse, clean water, and at least one complete meal a day.

LAFTI building project, courtesy of http://meerashanti.blogspot.com/

This year, PwP is setting its sights on India. At last night’s kickoff, sponsored by SCOOT (Seattle Consortium of Online Travel), the organizers told us more about the 2010 fundraiser recipient, Land for Tillers’ Freedom (LAFTI), a non-profit organization dedicated to changing the conditions of the Dalit Caste, India’s poorest of the poor.

Dalit home, before LAFTI (courtesy of LAFTI.net)

David Albert, a board member of LAFTI’s U.S.-based non-profit branch, Friends of LAFTI, told us about the dismal conditions experienced by the Dalit caste, also known as the “untouchables.”At one time, a Dalit was not allowed to let their shadows fall upon a non-Dalit caste member, and employers threw coins at them out the window rather than risk contamination by handing them money. The Dalits were segregated in huts built of mud and straw outside of main villages and foraged for food; people considered roasted water rat a delicacy, Albert said.

LAFTI’s founder, a woman named Krishnammal, is dedicated to building real homes for this landless group. About $2,000 in donations can build a home, Albert said (the construction is partially subsidized by the government and some Indian interests). If PwP meets its goal of raising $50,000, it can build an entire village.

Dalit home, after LAFTI (courtesy of lafti.net)

Want to get involved? Here’s how the PwP process works: Each participating blogger secures a prize (either travel related or non) for the fundraiser from a vendor. Readers can bid on prizes by making $10 donations for the items they want. Judging by last year’s results, organizers said, the money can flow in quite fast, particularly when prizes involve trips to Belize or hotel stays.

(PwP could also be a good avenue for people who are trying to map out their 2010 tax deductible donations. I know that my company matches personal charitable donations so I hope to steer a little bit of that corporate largesse their way).

In the next few months, bloggers will be searching for prizes to give away. For those PR folks out there who read this blog, this could be a great opportunity to connect your client to active social media exposure (because you know this group is going to tweet/Facebook/Stumble/blog the heck out of it!) Sponsorships are also available for any companies out there who want big time exposure in the travel blogosphere.

To sign up, bloggers should visit the Passports With Purpose website. The drawing starts in November and runs through December.

(I’m excited to participate; last year, I wasn’t in a position to get involved in anything remotely resembling activism. I’m glad that’s changed. As Michelle Duffy of Wandermom said last night, sometimes it’s good for bloggers to get out of their me-me-me world and participate in something aimed at the greater good).

There’s a part of me that’s always been curious about Native American rituals, dating back to when I spent part of my junior year of college interning at a newspaper in Tucson, Arizona. When I came back to campus, I decorated my apartment with cacti, read way too much Carlos Castenada, and even signed up for a class on the Navajo language (which I dropped after discovering it was one of the most difficult languages to read or speak, ever).

Nothing piqued my curiosity quite as much as a temazcal, also known more vernacularly as a “sweat lodge.” I had a chance to do one at last year’s SATW conference in Guadalajara, but it conflicted with a daytrip to Tequila (booze took precedence over self-enlightenment). After fellow SATWer Amy Walters Weirick wrote up a blog post for me about her temazcal experience, I became more convinced that I needed to try it, if only for a little bit, just to see how the whole thing worked.

At Hacienda Tres Rios, an award-winning eco resort that sponsored me on a recent Twitter trip, a temazcal was included in our itinerary. I chose to go; my husband Don did not (slthough Tres Rios is an all-inclusive resort, the temazcal is an extra activity). While I enjoyed the experience, I don’t think it’s something that people should enter into lightly; the excessive heat generated in some temazcals has led to health issues and even death for some participants (most notably in Sedona last year, when 7 people died).

If you are curious about participating in a temazcal, here are a few things that you might want to know before you go:

1. It’s not a spa treatment. Many resorts put temazcals on their spa menu – and that’s a mistake. First off, a temazcal – at least one that bills itself as authentic – is more of a cultural experience than anything resembling a treatment that you might find in a spa. It’s run by a leader, who invokes Native chants and traditions dedicated to asking the spirits for guidance. And it’s also more rigorous than any spa treatment that I’ve ever had: two people from our group left the domed building where the temazcal took place before the ceremony was over because the heat was so overwhelming. Calling a temazcal a spa treatment is not only disrespectful, it’s potentially dangerous.

2. You will get dirty. Before our group entered the temazcal, our leader purified us with sage and asked us to respect the Earth by covering our faces and bodies in mud. I loved this part, as it reminded me of the mud I encountered at the Dead Sea. I slathered on the mud, only to regret putting it on my forehead later when dirty sweat dripped into my contacts. Forget modesty; everyone around you will be in the same state of dishevelment. Wear a swimsuit or clothes that you don’t mind getting muddy.

3. It’s really hot. And long. Imagine being in the hottest sauna that you’ve ever experienced. Now stay in that sauna for two hours  – or more.

At our temazcal, the leader said that we’d be going through three doors on our journey. At each “door,” he filled our hut with rocks that glowed from the heat. The hut was then sealed, allowing the steam to fill the pitch black room. I don’t think I’ve ever sweat so much in my life, including the time I ran the half marathon. The feeling wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but I did keep sneaking drinks from the bottled water I brought in with me and moving lower to the ground where the air felt cooler.

4. Find out if – and how – you can leave, if necessary.This is where temazcals can get tricky. Generally, the ritual frowns upon people breaking the circle – and most leaders will encourage participants to stay inside if at all possible (the deaths last year in Sedona occurred because the leader refused to let people leave). Even at our more low-key temazcal, things got a bit ugly when one writer felt that she couldn’t breathe. While the leader let her out, it didn’t happen as quickly as any of us would have wanted it too – and it let to some negative feelings about the experience.

To prevent this, temazcal leaders should say up front what their policies and procedures for leaving the sweat lodges are – and resorts and tour operators that sponsor the activities should be upfront about what the health risks. Don’t do it if you have high blood pressure, get claustrophobic or have a hard time with extended heat. Bottom line: If your heart feels like it’s going to explode, you should have the right to get out FAST.

5. Things get weird in there. In a traditional temazcal, the ritual leader will ask you who you are and what you are searching for. And he’s not looking for smart-ass answers either (sincerity is the best policy here). You may also be asked to chant, beat the ground with leaves and herbs or ask a spirit for guidance. I kinda enjoyed seeing the more spiritual side of my travel companions, but if you aren’t the sharing or New Age-y type, a temazcal may not be your thing.

6. When it ends, you’ll feel like you survived something (although you might not be sure what). After we were released from the temazcal, we stumbled out into the sunlight, taking huge gulps of fresh air. I wrapped myself in a towel and downed a bottle of water as my heart rate went down. Although others looked at my purple face with concern, I felt fine – almost as if I had undergone a long workout. We ended the temazcal with fruit, sugary tea and a cool dip in a nearby cenote.

So in the end, was the temazcal worth it? For me, it was, as I had always been curious about the experience. I enjoyed the cultural aspects of the ritual, as well as the bonding that took place inside the temazcal (as one participant said, “we all sweat together.”) But it didn’t lead to a greater level of enlightenment or relaxation (I found more Zen while snorkeling through the cenotes the next day). And I don’t think people should go into a temazcal without seriously thinking about the health risks or uncomfortable moments that they might face.

Have you been to a temazcal? What was your experience like?

I spent last weekend at the Hacienda Tres Rios, one of the many all-inclusive beach resorts on the Riviera Maya that line Mexico’s Caribbean coast, from Cancun south toward Tulum.

One of the biggest travel questions I get from friends is whether or not they should choose an all-inclusive resort when they travel to Mexico or the Caribbean. And my answer to them is always, it depends on what kind of vacation you want.

So with that in mind, I’ve drawn up a quick list to help people determine if an all-inclusive resort is right for them. This is by no means a comprehensive list. It’s also admittedly subjective, based on my experiences, and there’s always exceptions to any generalities. And I’m not trying to say that one type of experience is necessarily better than another, so let’s leave that discussion off the table for now.

Whew, disclaimers over! Here goes….

You might like an all-inclusive resort if:

1. You want to go on vacation mainly to relax. Let’s face it, many of us work so hard before our vacation that all we want to do for a few days is veg out. All-inclusive resorts usually have several pools for lounging, many with poolside drink service and swim-up bars. When I stayed at the Royal Resort in Playa del Carmen last year, they even had a staffer wheeling around a cart with cool towels, frozen grapes, sunblock and trashy magazines.

2. You don’t want to think about transportation issues. If driving in another country freaks you out, an all-inclusive resort is a good way to avoid those hassles. Most resorts will set up airport transfers and transportation for you, either for an extra fee or included in the price. Many all-inclusives have activities to keep you occupied on site (Tres Rios has snorkeling and kayaking available, for example), and most have their own in-house concierge service that will book tours for you if you do want to leave the property (although bear in mind these prices are usually much higher than what you could find on your own outside the resort. The resort told us it would cost $180 per person for a driver down to Tulum, while local experts told us it would be easy to hire a taxi for under half that amount).

3. You are with a group. Planning a vacation with other people can be a frustrating experience, particularly if you already know that your travel styles are different. An all-inclusive resort allows people to do their own thing during the day, yet all gather in one place at night. And the fact that it’s open bar, all the time makes it a good choice if you know things are going to get rowdy.

4. You like knowing more precisely what your bill will be. The beauty of most all-inclusives is that your bill is just that – the price you pay up front includes not only your room, but all of your food and drink. Now that’s not to say that you can’t spend extra. At most resorts, for example, spa treatments have hefty surcharges unless you buy a certain package. And just as cruise ships have added special restaurants where you pay more for fancier food, some resorts have dining experiences that might carry a supplemental charge. To keep your bill within your expectations, ask your travel agent or the reservation agent exactly what you receive in your package and have them email it to you so you have proof in writing.

5. You like luxurious landscaping and amenities. If you’re the type who likes to roll up to marble floors, grand entrances and well-manicured grounds, you’ll be happy with most all-inclusive resorts (although sometimes that care doesn’t always extend to the rooms). It’s also nice not having to search for a spa, or entertainment at night, as many all-inclusives have shows. And some, such as Tres Rios, even have activities such as tequila tastings or cooking demonstrations.

Now let’s switch to the other side.

You might want to stay at an independent hotel if:

1. You want to go on vacation mainly to explore. If you’re the type who wakes up and wants to get out there and see something different every day, you won’t enjoy the more confined atmosphere of an all-inclusive. No matter how much the resort promotes its accessibility to outside activities, the reality is that it’s in your best interest to spend your time on property grounds in order to get the most for your money. It can feel like you’re in a bubble, surrounded by other Americans. And what’s the fun in that?

2. You prefer to have your own car or walk around. Most (although not all) all-inclusive resorts lie outside cities and more populated areas, which makes it a little bit harder to simply walk into town. And in Mexico, that means you might miss the paseo, that delightful early evening tradition where locals and tourists alike stroll through city streets and squares, to see and be seen.

3. You’re a foodie. This might rub resorts the wrong way, but I have yet to find an all-inclusive where the food was as good as what I could have found on my own, either on the street or in a nice restaurant. That was true again last weekend, where my husband and I unanimously agreed that our favorite meal was the one we enjoyed at Yax Che in Playa del Carmen. And if the thought of a breakfast buffet or food under heat lamps turns you off, you definitely want to avoid all-inclusives. And for those who worry about the safety of street food, listen to this: in the past two years, I’ve personally known more people to get sick off of hotel food in Mexico than anything eaten from a vendor or restaurant.

4. You prefer to pay only for activities, meals and drinks that you actually use. Even if I’ve enjoyed a visit to an all-inclusive, I keep wondering: could I have had just as good a time for less money if I would have done it on my own. The answer is almost always yes. That’s because I don’t care about many of the things that the resorts build into their prices, such as entertainment or activities (I’d rather choose these type of things on my own). And while I’m certainly no stranger to bar tabs, I tend to drink less than many of the people I’ve seen decimating the mini-bar at all-inclusives.

5. You like more personal interaction and local flavor. Sure, all -inclusives may have concierges or local artwork on the walls. But that’s not the same experience as staying at a small inn or B & B, where owners can give you personal recommendations for places to eat, beaches to explore and activities to try. I also find that the other guests at smaller properties are more apt to mingle and socialize than at the larger resorts.

At this point, you might be able to tell that I prefer smaller boutique and independent hotels to large all-inclusive resorts. But I draw the line at saying that philosophy works for everyone. As I said at the beginning of this post, if you think about what kind of vacation you want before you book, you’ll be likely to be satisfied with your choices when you get there.

If you have any other suggetions that might help people make a decision between an all-inclusive resort and a regular hotel, please do so in the comments!

I’m now convinced: A trip to Mexico’s Yucatan Peninsula, where Cancun and the Riviera Maya are located, is not complete without a swim in a refreshing cenote.

Say what? I’m talking about cenotes (pronounced say-NOH-tay), essentially sinkholes filled with water that go deep into the ground. Most contain fresh water and were used by the Mayans as a primary water source.

Hacienda Tres Rios, which hosted me for a three-night stay, has 10 cenotes on its 326-acre property. Snorkeling, kayaking and swimming in the mangrove-shrouded pools is included in the price of the room (between $276 per person to $1,000, all-inclusive, depending on the season).

But you don’t have to stay at Tres Rios to find a cenote, as they are located all over the Yucatan Peninsula. Many are under caves, perfect for SCUBA divers and snorkelers to explore. And others are family friendly, with ropes hanging over them that children can hang on to as they swim. This article in the Playa Maya News has some good listings (prices may be outdated).

I have to admit, I was a little worried when I saw my first cenote. It looked like a ladder leading into a swamp, quite frankly, and I worried that the water would be stale and murky. It turns out that the water in cenotes is usually some of the freshest around, and delightfully cool on a hot Mexican summer day.

At Tres Rios, they offer a snorkeling adventure where you start in a cenote, then swim down one of the resort’s three rivers toward the Caribbean Sea. The water in this particular cenote is a bit more brackish than most, as it connects with the ocean. They ask you to wear  a floatie for safety reasons.

(The guy checking out the water in the photo above is Craig of the blog, Stay Adventurous. True to his name, he leaped into the cenote with a huge splash).

We donned our gear and hopped in. Almost immediately, I started seeing fish on the cenote floor and others nibbling plankton near the mangrove roots. While they weren’t the brightly colored species that you’d find on a coral reef, these fish were interesting, primarily for their size – some were as long as my arm!

(I wish I had photos, but I forgot to charge my underwater camera battery, much to the dismay of my husband. As Craig said, “that’s a a rookie mistake.” Oh well. We all make them!”)

We let the current carry us downstream. Besides the large fish, we saw a massive blue crab and several schools of medium sized fish. I enjoyed floating and watching the sunbeams stream through the water. Others may get their spiritual fix through temazcales; for me, swimming peacefully down the river, the trees forming an arch above me, proved more mentally cleansing.

When we reached the end, I didn’t want to get out. I was surprised at how close we had been to the resort, as I couldn’t hear a thing while we were on the river. My husband liked the almost instant access to a beach bar.

The tidepool between the river and the Caribbean provided a perfectly protected swimming area.

Almost to a person, the bloggers on our trip ranked the cenote snorkel and river swim as one of their favorite activities. Unfortunately, the cenotes at Hacienda Tres Rios are just for guests. But if I go back to this area of Mexico in the future, I’m going to look into further cenote snorkeling opportunities around the coast. It’s one of the best ways to explore and appreciate the region’s natural attributes.

Read cenote stories and see pix from other bloggers on the trip! @Solotraveler, @LandLopers

Have you been to a cenote in Mexico? Which one and how was it?

I traveled to Mexico this past weekend, as a guest of Hacienda Tres Rios, an award-winning, eco-oriented all-inclusive resort north of Playa del Carmen.

The trip marked my first time back on the Riviera Maya (the stretch of resorts running south of Cancun toward Tulum) since last year’s swine flu warnings did a number of Mexican tourism.

When I arrived last May over Memorial Day 2009, the CDC had just lifted its warning regarding travel to Mexico. Even though the state of Quintana Roo, where Cancun and the Riviera Maya lie, had reported no swine flu cases, tourism had all but dried up. Agents in the Cancun airport wore masks and took our temperature as we deplaned. Hotels in Cancun were at half their normal capacity. Many resorts were forced to lay off workers.

The dearth of tourists did make life easy for those who did brave the flu warnings. Discounts were everywhere, and you had your pick of restaurants and beach beds. Still, you couldn’t help feeling sorry for the Mexican tourism industry, which was still reeling from reports of drug violence in other areas of the country. I’ve heard it time and again from those who rep Mexican properties: every time there’s a report of violence, no matter how far away from the beaten tourist track it may be, bookings suffer.

On this visit, tourism in Playa del Carmen seemed healthy. The streets were lively, restaurants were happening (we had to wait for an outdoor table at Yax Che). Clubs such as the Blue Parrot that were giving away drinks last time now had covers. For me, Playa became a different type of town.

Still, the resorts in the area are still hurting a bit. Occupancy in Cancun is a few percentage points below last year – which was already down 20% from 2008. Mexican travel expert Kay Walten, who runs the reservation service LocoGringo, blamed it the downturn on the continued lack of consumer confidence. The majority of people just aren’t ready to spend money on international vacations yet, it seems.

That’s too bad. Because the Riviera Maya continues to be one of the best travel bargains around. The area has everything – easy air access, big resorts, smaller boutique hotels, natural attractions, history – to suit almost every type of traveler. The area is about ready to enter its off-season (which coincides with hurricane season; buy travel insurance if you plan a trip during this time) so expect the bargains to continue.

And it’s certainly not too early to plan for December holidays. When it’s cold and rainy in Seattle, I know Mexico won’t be too far from my thoughts.

Have you been to Mexico lately? If so, I’d love to hear your experiences – tell me where you stayed and if your hotel/resort seemed empty, crowded or – hopefully – just right.

One of the first lessons learned in travel is that things don’t always happen the way that you plan.

Planes are missed. Or pictures are lost. Or a bank of clouds plants itself in front of the volcano that you drove several hours to see and refuses. to. move.

And here I thought I had planned my Mt. St. Helens odyssey so well. I had dreamed up a volcano weekend a few weeks ago, right after I saw that a documentary about the May 18, 1980 eruption was playing at the Pacific Science Center’s IMAX theater. I’d see the movie, then drive down to Mount St. Helens and see the mountain in person, just a few months after the eruption’s 30th anniversary. An easy themed trip, right?

Not so much. Looking at the map, I realized that while Mount St. Helens seemed like an easy jaunt down I-5 from Seattle, I wouldn’t be able to get there and do the national monument justice in a day. So I set about finding a place to stay.

The park’s website didn’t help much. After a few searches, I discovered that Castle Rock was the nearest town off the highway to the park’s entrance. I had a hard time finding anything that didn’t scream “scary roadside motel.” Finally, a website pointed me to the Blue Heron Inn, a B & B that seemed appropriate as a weekend retreat.

I started my Saturday with the 25-minute Imax movie. It served as  a good primer on the history of the eruption and the effect that it had on the Pacific Northwest. Back in 1980, I was a pre-teen in suburban Minneapolis and while I remember seeing the eruption news on TV, it didn’t hit home as much from that Midwestern vantage point. The ash clouds that settled over Yakima and other areas in Oregon and Washington looked truly epic and 57 people died from the blast. Although short, the film whet my appetite for the trip and I looked forward to hitting the road.

But weekend traffic on I-5 turned out to be crazy. I spent about an hour stuck in traffic outside Tacoma (and then wiled away another hour at the Outlet stores at the Centralia exit). By the time I made it to Mount St. Helens National Monument’s Silver Lake visitors center at 5 p.m., things were closing. To make matters worse, rain was coming down and I realized the mountain was another 50 miles up the road. So viewing any part of the park on Saturday proved out of the question.

Luckily, the Blue Heron Inn was just around the corner. Innkeeper Eric has been running the building for the past 18 months, and the more modern decor made it a step above the tchlotcke-filled stereotypes that most B & Bs have  (bonus: a winery rents space in the lower level). My room, the spacious ADA-compliant room with a comfy queen size bed, cost $159 per night.

Eric told me about Castle Rock’s limited food options. Instead of heading toward town, I drove east through the mist on Spirit Lake Memorial Highway toward the 19 Mile House, which boasts about its excellent cobbler. Open until 8 p.m. every night, I arrived in time to get a slice of strawberry rhubarb (the specialty of the house, huckleberry, had already sold out). The landscape on this part of the road, built after the eruption in the early 1990s, is a little bleak. The Mount St. Helens emergency center in Toutle grabbed my attention, however (above).

I settled back at the Blue Heron with a few photo books on Mount St. Helens that Eric keeps in the common area. Before the eruption, snow-capped Mount St. Helens had been one of the prettiest mountains in the Cascades, earning comparisons to Mt. Fuji in Japan. It turns out that scientists in the area knew that something fishy was going on the mountain, notoriously more volatile than others in the Pacific Northwest, for several months before the volcano erupted. A 5.1 earthquake had taken place in March, and pressure underneath the surface had caused a bulge to form, pushing the mountain out by several feet each night.  A second earthquake eventually knocked the bulge off the mountain, triggering the lava and steam explosion.

On Saturday, I had breakfast at Blue Heron with other guests (several couples from Australia and a few families). The weather still looked dismal, but I set out on the 50 mile trip anyway. Along the way, I passed tree farms owned by the Weyerhaeuser Company. The logging company, based south of Seattle in the city of Federal Way, was the largest private landowner affected by the eruption, losing about 14% of its 68,000-acre Tree Farm, were devastated. In Weyerhaeuser lost 3 logging camps, buildings, equipment and vehicles. Many of their current tree groves visible from the road have signs that show when they were replanted. Amazing how quickly firs can grow in 25 years.

As the road gained in altitude, the fog grew thicker, which made the viewpoints along the way seem a little eerie.

I stopped at Hoffstadt Bridge. one of 14 rebuilt after the eruption. The blast sent a deadly combo of downed trees, water and mud through the valley, washing out bridges and taking out roads.

A sign near the bridge marked it as the beginning of the “blast zone.” Keep in mind that at this point, you’re still nearly 15 miles from the mountain itself.

As I continued along route 504, the weather continued to change. By the time I reached Coldwater Ridge, the day appeared almost picture perfect. I left my car in the parking lot and took the quick quarter-mile Birth of the Lake trail. As the above photo proves, the area shines with pure Northwest mountain beauty.

While the soil around the lake still has an ashy appearance. it doesn’t stop wildflowers from blooming.

Or people from fishing. Although the eruption killed out the fish and wildlife that lived near Mount St. Helens, rainbow and cutthroat trout have returned to the lake (although some may have been reintroduced by humans instead of by evolution).

I continued my drive toward Johnston Observatory, named for vulcanologist David Johnston of the U.S. Geological Survey who died in the blast. Johnston’s famous last words, heard crackling over the radio, were “Vancouver! Vancouver! This is it!,” making him the first one to report the eruption. As you drive closer to the mountain, the landscape becomes more barren; the U.S. government has chosen not to replant the areas damaged by volcano, instead using them as a research area for natural regrowth.

I pulled over at Loowit Lookout ,which offers great views of the mountain – at least on a sunny day. I could see the top and bottom peeking out from the cloud, but not much else. My grouchiness over the ill-placed cloud was alleviated slightly by the herd of Roosevelt elk I saw lying in the recuperating grasslands below (unfortunately, they were too far away for my camera to capture them).

From Loowit Lookout, it’s a .8 mile walk up to Johnston Ridge Observatory. While the hike wasn’t far, it is uphill. There were a fair number of people in the park that day, but I felt gloriously alone on the short trail, which offered close up views of the dessicated tree stumps and still-recovering landscape. It’s awe-inspiring to realize how much changed within a few minutes from the eruption; notice all the tree remains are pointing away from the mountain.

Once you get to the Johnston Ridge Observatory, there’s an opportunity to pay the park’s $8 fee. I saw many people there who weren’t wearing the wristband that you receive with the fee, meaning that you can get through without paying if you want to. Before you do so, ask yourself: Is it really worth it to shortchange the park by skipping the fee? Unless you are truly indigent, you should support the monument and its research efforts by paying.

Paid for partially by admissions, Mount St. Helens has a full array of ranger talks. junior ranger programs and guided hikes. I arrived just in time to hear the talk by Todd about the geological forces that led to the 1980 eruption. Realizing that we were all frustrated by the cloud obscuring the crater and lava dome, Todd showed us a picture of what we’d be seeing if the weather cleared up. And when might that be, I asked. Todd thought for a moment: “Usually it’s clear now,” he said. “But it is getting toward fall. July is a better bet.”

(Fall! Let the record show that I visited Mount St. Helens over the second week of August. Thus are the peculiarities of the Pacific Northwest summer).

Todd proved to be an animated speaker, capturing the crowd with easy-to-understand explanations of the geology and chronology of events. Well-deployed photos and gadgets added to the effectiveness. A great job, all around, that made me wish I could stay longer to hear more ranger talks.

On the trail back, I kept turning around to see if the cloud had miraculously dissipated, as I still hoped to see the crater and the lava dome building up inside. No such luck. Mount St. Helens remained shrouded for my entire visit, much to my irritation.

Of course, all is not lost. I was going to go back to Mount St. Helens anyway, as my husband has told me that he wants to see it once he moves out West. Next time, I’ll brave traffic to come down on a Friday, so we have all day Saturday to do various hikes. And if we can time that visit to coincide with one of the fantastic-sounding field seminars run by the Mount St. Helens Institute, all the better.

Still, I had to force myself to remember that traveling is unpredictable, particularly in the Northwest where even the alleged sunny summer doesn’t always live up to its billing. All you can do is embrace the adventure for what it is, and hope for better luck next time.

Have you ever had the purpose of a vacation or trip fall through? Tell me in the comments (so I don’t feel so bad!)

I’m not going to lie: If I had my way, I’d live in hotels full-time. And if I’m really honest about things? My hotel of choice would be one of the sprawling Victorian fantasies built by the Canadian Pacific Railway in the late 1800s.

Now run by Fairmont, the CPR hotels were created by the railroad to house important railway passengers in the cities and encourage tourism to rural areas along the tracks. Most have the distinctive granite walls and copper roofs of the chateau style, and their castle-like silhouettes lend an old-school ambiance to Canadian skylines.

I stayed at my first Canadian Pacific Railway hotel in Quebec City, when my husband and I spent a night at the Chateau Frontenac. While I ultimately decided the room itself wasn’t worth the money, it’s hard to ignore the hotel’s romantic air. You do feel a touch more elegant walking through the lobby. Someday I hope to stay at all of them, especially the grand resorts in Lake Louise and Banff.

Victoria’s Canadian Pacific Railway hotel is now the Fairmont Empress. It’s a focal point of the city’s waterfront, and it’s particularly impressive when you approach as I did by sea. I can see why so many upscale vacationers from mainland British Columbia made a beeline for it when their ferries arrived.  After a morning walking around Butchart Gardens, I made a reservation for afternoon high tea in the Empress tea room.

If I’m having a British-influenced high tea, I want it to be held in a room that makes me sit up straight and drink with my pinky out. The Empress’ tea room looked suitably formal, even after all these years, with red velvet drapes and gilt touches tempered by the sunshine streaming through windows overlooking the harbor. On a summer Sunday, the room was packed; advance reservations on weekends are a good idea. They’d prefer that you don’t wear jeans, shorts or flip flops (Tea costs $50 CAD).

Even though I was by myself, the tea room staff seated me at a roomy table with a comfy armchair. Even before my tea arrived, my first course – strawberries and clotted cream – came to the table, along with a coffee table book about the hotel. I appreciated having a chance to read about a bit about the hotel’s history as my tea steeped. Apparently back in the day, the Empress was known for its eccentric long-term clientele, who would come out to Victoria during the winter for the temperate climate (Victoria lies in the rain shadow of the Olympic Peninsula and thus has mostly sunny weather). One man spent so much time in a green chair in the hotel’s lobby that he would receive mail addressed to him “by the Empress clock.”

The main tea course arrived with a variety of sammies and sweets. I particularly liked the smoked salmon and cream cheese sandwich (crusts cut, of course) and the kiwi tart.

After tea, I took a short walk down to Government Street, the  main retail street of Victoria. Book lovers had told me not to miss Munro’s Books, so I stopped in for a browse and to pick up a book for the 2 and a half hour ferry ride back to Seattle. If I ever write a series of posts on Awesome Bookstores of the Pacific Northwest, Munro’s will be on the list.

You always knew that Santa lived in Canada, right? I loved this statue on top of a building on Government Street.

I also loved the statue of the city’s namesake, Queen Victoria, outside the province Parliament building. Hail Britannia!

I left Victoria on the  7 p.m. ferry, the last one of the day. When I go back to Vancouver Island again, I plan to do more exploring around the island, going out into the inlets and searching for wildlife.  And maybe – just maybe – I’ll make my hotel wishes come true and take up residence at the Empress in Victoria, for a night or two.