Susan Kime's Luxury Travel Blog

Positive Positives

2007-10-27T18:41:00.000-04:00

FRACTIONAL FUSION EVENT PART 2

In my last blog entry I mentioned the false positives, but did not mention the many POSITIVE positives from this event experience! Not only were the people interesting, I also had the chance to speak to the crowd about the lifestyle dimensions of the fractional purchase.

I write about the shared residence industry in Travel Connoisseur, Shared Ownership News and The Helium Report, but I rarely meet potential buyers WITH those who have conceived the fractional dimension of the yachts, helicopters, cars, jets, and jewelry collections. This time, I met BOTH: the buyers and the sellers. It was a great co-mingling of front and back office, vision and operation, theory and practice.

A Dog of California

2007-10-21T10:58:00.000-04:00

Even though it has been a month since I last blogged, I have not been sitting around! I went to and spoke at the First Fractional Fusion event in Newport Beach, California, where fractional yacht, jet and destination club sponsors came and networked. I have left SoCal long ago, so, returning to a neighboring city is always an interesting exercise in understanding my ambivalence about the region. Yes, there's a lot of plastic surgery results walking around, and yes, many of the women are so perfect looking they do NOT look real at all, but then again, so what? I have grown old enough to accept perfection as well as idiosyncracy. I still could look out to sea, drink (only in California) Pomegranate Mojitos, and talk to people who were very interested in spending a few hundred thousand on fractional interests -- all without feeling superior or angst-ridden about anything. This is how they live their lives; I have grown older and do not want to change them.

There was a a woman at the event -- she had just had work done, and was talking about it. I looked at her, she was impossibly slim, had a youthful figure, shiny blonde hair but had a kind of lattice work of facial wrinkles; thus, a kind of anachronism: a youthful figure, an elderly face. I overheard her telling her friend, " As far as the surgery goes, my doctor is working his way UP!" She also had a growly little white poodle in her arms. I was listening to her, and began to pet the dog. She turned to me, and in a very kind voice said, " You know how old he is? He's 18: deaf, blind but he still keeps going!" I found this to be symbolic, funny, ironic, witty, everything rolled into one. The dog should have been called California, but he was called Puffy.

Fall in Northern Utah

2007-10-21T09:55:00.000-04:00

For the past 21 years, 21 Falls, I knew it was Fall in Tucson only for a day or two. The Cactus did not change color, nor did the Mesquite, Greasewood or Palo Verde. We natives knew only because the calendar told us; yet fall has always been my favorites season. Unlike a character on Prairie Home Companion, who always considered Fall depressing -- it reminded him of rotting pumpkins and nursing homes -- I had always welcomed Fall as a cool, colorful time.

When we came to Logan, Utah this year, neither of us expected the daily show that Autumn had in store. We are grateful to live among the leaves. each time we look down --on the sidewalk, or on the grass, or look up, to the trees and the mountains another vibrancy emerges.

Hassel Island

2007-08-30T23:08:00.000-04:00

Here is something new! A collaborative video made my son Haddon about the private residence renovation and restoration project we saw on Hassel Island, an island very close to Charlotte Amalie Harbor in St. Thomas. It was a substantial experience for us, as we saw the land being preserved and the land being enhanced at the same time.

For more information on the project described in this video please CONTACT SUSAN.

New Helium Report Article: The Hideout Club

2007-08-24T22:30:00.000-04:00

Susan is pleased to present a new entry in her ongoing column series for the luxury travel authority THE HELIUM REPORT.

Please CLICK HERE for Susan's article entry on The Hideout Club!

NEW ARTICLES: Destination Clubs series from SPIRE

2007-08-16T15:22:00.000-04:00

The Smiling Stegosaurus: Shell, Wyoming

2007-08-14T11:26:00.000-04:00

I had never been to middle eastern Wyoming. I had no reason to go, as the real action is in the western part - Yellowstone Park, Jackson Hole, all those places where you could see and sense the Tetons -- a vast range of jagged tipped mountains resembling the Olympic range, the Cascades and even, yes, the Himalayas. But mid-east Wyoming? Not really.

My friends all laughed about my traveling to Shell, Wyoming - about an hour outside of Cody. I am more of the London/Paris/Urban jungle type. But this story and this place - the Hideout Club, outside of Shell, Wyoming, intrigued me. It was a place, I had heard, where many Europeans travel, where they can experience the dream of the American West in a pure form. A combination cattle and dude ranch, it was a place where you could ride horses all day, pack into the Big Horn mountains to further Hideout lodges and camps, and spend the night after having a great meal, prepped by their Cordon-Bleu trained chef. You could work the cattle ranch, shoot skeet, take a canoe down the Shell Creek or the Big Horn River, and live the dream of the American West.

The dream was real, and the reality had, when I was there, a very European flavor. There were indeed more Europeans than Americans, and even one famous Austrian Princess who came there with her children. The experience was fascinating, the guests even more so. And the landscape even more so.

The landscape has a desert barrenness, and this range of the Big Horns has a non-Teton soft-roundedness. The altitude is also soft: about 5000 feet above sea level; so there are cottonwood, some aspen, some pine, but no great stands of anything. The dazzling, almost artificial greenness of the vast farmlands is due to irrigation, not natural rainfall. Alfalfa is the major crop. Driving along the ancient road - a true Blue Highway - there are old apple trees and huge Elderberry bushes, augustly laden with umbels of black, round berries, along the side of the road. It is a truly gentle landscape - no tourists, no crushed Coke cans or rotting Pampers along the side of the road, just old apples, wire fences, stands of evangelical corn raising their gifts to the sky, and bright green alfalfa.

Of all the guests there, there are only two who are not horse people. Me, and a gentleman named Fred. He is there with his wife, Geanette, a horsewoman. They have taken their son and grandchildren to The Hideout Club as the granddaughters love to ride. In fact, all of Fred's family love to ride, except Fred. He and I have an aversion to horses, as we both feel they are odd, whiskered, oat-eating, ill-smelling beasts needing serious dental work. We have both been thrown, also, and never really got over it. So Fred stays on the porch and I get the sense of the guests' experience, which will be the substance of the article for my magazine.

And yet, with all the goings-on, I feel, on a more profound level, that I do not know what I am doing there. The feeling of separateness, of a stranger in a strange land, permeates my being, and makes me somewhat grouchy. Well, really grouchy. But when I see Fred, he looks even grouchier. The first thing he says to me, after I meet him and his family the evening before was, "My ##@cell phone doesn't work here. What am I going to do?" And he smiled a kind of wistful, yet accepting smile, a counterpoint to his gruff words.

After two days of viewing the facilities, and getting the sense of everyone having a great tine except me - and Fred - I ask if we could go to the Fossil ruins that were in and around the Hideout Club.

A few hours later we --- Fred and his more of his family - are in a van, with our guides: Cliff and Rowena, a husband and wife team impassioned about fossils, the Jurassic period, Dinosaur tracks and bones. They are also a married couple who are always interrupting each other. I tuned them out very early. The first few hours are spent walking along tidal areas where we are actually seeing dinosaur footprints. The Smithsonian and Harvard have multiple digs around there. Cliff explains that it had only been about a million years that Wyoming - indeed all of the West, had been above water. Where we stand was at one time Dinosaur knee-deep tidal pools. They also say there are 2million year oyster beds nearby, with many fossilized, open oyster shells, leading me to believe that Dinosaurs had the intelligence to be able to crack them open without an Oyster knife! … and eat them. I underestimated the wit of these ugly beasts for a long time!

On those ancient tidal beds, the weather is hot and dry, and the sand blows in our hair and gets in our teeth. I begin to think about so much else in that area that is yet to be discovered. I look to the hills, multicolored, rounded strata, knowing the past is all around us, blowing. "The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind.." Bob Dylan once wrote, to which I add, "so is the past."

When we finish with the tidal basin, Cliff and Rowena drive us, across the highway, down an old road, to a working farm. On that private land, he says, is an exceptional archaeological dig where they found two intact Stegosaurus skeletons, between 200 and 250 million years old. We drive through the fields, on a dirt road for many miles, up into the mountains, into the ancient, millennial past. The van stops and we climb a steep hill - then, down into a nameless, dessicated valley. At the bottom, is the dig. I had seen an archaeological dig in Mexico before, but the findings, all Mayan structures, were so contemporary in contrast. This one is a dig where only a few dedicated, dusty people work with brushes and small, delicate chisels. What they have found thus far is a skull of another Stegosaurus, then down about 20 feet away are the remains of his or her vertebra-laden tail. The lead archaeologist, Bob Simon tells us about the ancient creature. I walk down into the crevasse and touch the skull. Nobody minds.

I see and feel the vague outlines of this archaeological reality, but standing away from it, it looks very much, also, like a rock we clear away on some construction site. But it is what it was: once a living thing - and now, an ambivalence of my contemporary imagination, -- I see the mouth curled slightly in a smile. I also see the ancient reality, the old stone, 250 million years in the making. The ideal and the real, past and present, equally parsed.

When I ask Bob if he thinks there are any more ancient creatures embedded in the hills, he said, "Are you kidding? Every night I hear the hills laughing at me!"

"I lift mine eyes unto the hills, from when cometh my help" says a line in the Bible. There is some truth to that, as my eyes fix on these soft hills, and I am aware of the help they provide. How small we all seem, and what is it now that were are worried about today? Maybe that's was what that creature was smiling about. He ( or she) could hear the laughing hills, and we cannot as yet.

Fred and I walk down the hill together. He has a ruddy complexion, and his glistening silver hair is damp with understandable sweat. I tell him my knees hurt from all this walking up and down. And then he says, out of the blue, "I have cancerous melanoma and have been given four or five months to live." I look at him, and he smiles that accepting smile again, then, tilts his head. I tell him how sorry I am, he then says he recently refused more radiation, as he wants to live out his days without being in radiation caused excruciation. We both look at the hills, and they look back, in blessed silence. The others come down quickly thereafter. I begin thinking that the confluence of past and present, the vague shape of the 200 million year old Stegosaurus smile, must have affected him too, lightening, paradoxically, the profound burden of a darkening life.

I understand, now, what the heft of ancient bone and skeletal outline do to those who are in the field. They probably cannot look at a rock without asking, "What's hidden inside?" They look at multi-colored mountains and hear the laughter. As we drive back, I view the hills with a new archaeological reverence, understanding that Fred's confession came a perfect time.

NEW ARTICLES! Saratoga Polo and ARDA Developments

2007-08-13T11:52:00.001-04:00

The Saratoga Polo Retreat: The New Focused Passion of the Private Residence Club Industry

Eye on Grand Cayman:
"Building the Extraordinary" Growth of the Fractional Market

St. Clare and the Nasher Sculpture Center Event

2007-07-11T23:49:00.000-04:00

The corporate people at Travel Connoisseur were really worried about the Dallas weather last night, as well they should have been -- the thunderstorms were closing in just as our first Travel Connoisseur event was about to unfold.

400+ people were invited and had RSVPed -- and the Nasher Sculpture Center was being readied with all kind of drinks, hors'd'oeuvres, and great raffle prizes. I asked the people I worked with who the patron saint of weather was... I thought, in my semi- lapsed Episcopalian, semi-Catholic way, it couldn't hurt!!

So, five minutes before I walked downstairs to the event, I said a prayer to St. Clare, the patron saint of good weather. Miracle of miracles, the storm went East, and although it was muggy and damp, it did not rain, which the corporate people thought was amazing -- but I knew it was because of the intervention of the little known and really little appreciated St. Clare of Assisi :) No relation to St, Francis. Except she heard him preach and she was converted.

The event was exceptional, due in part to the venue -- the Nasher Sculpture Center where some of the great works by Joan Miro, Alberto Giacometti and other contemporary sculptors are housed.

Many people who were interested in learning more about the Private Residence Club and Destination Club industry were there, and I spent a LOT of time discussing the advantages with interested Texans. It was a great party in a greater place. There will be more -- let us hope that St. Clare will always be with us!

Travel Connoisseur Debut!!!!

2007-07-08T12:52:00.000-04:00

The magazine of which I'm Editor-in-Chief, Travel Connoisseur has debuted to great critical accolades, and soon the whole PDF will be published on this website! We are so excited to already be working on the September issue, which will be larger even than the inaugural one that's out now. For a free copy, please CLICK HERE.

Tomorrow I will be heading to Dallas to join in the first Travel Connoisseur launch event at the Nasher Sculpture Museum. But, on the horizon, there is more excitement.

1. I will be writing a series of Destination Club article for SPIRE, a new internet luxury news and travel magazine.

2. I will be doing some PR/Media work for a developer in St. Thomas who is in the process of creating a new destination club unlike all others. This is going to be a really great project that I'll be writing a lot more about as time goes on.

3. I will be also doing the PR/Media for a huge new Destination Club project in Africa.

4. In August, I plan to travel to London for the First Fractional Life Expo, as well.

On the personal front, in two weeks, my husband, dogs and I will be going to Logan, Utah to escape the intense heat of the high Arizona desert. The Summer monsoons here in Tucson have yet to arrive, but a few night ago a scary, but beautiful thunderstorm came at us. As it flew by uprooting trees and tearing off roof tiles in its wake I snapped the image below. I did not adjust the color.

Unlike this horizon, my horizon looks bright!

New Hybrid Hospitality Article

2007-06-20T13:12:00.000-04:00

The inaugural edition Shared Ownership News, a co-publication of The Helium Report and The Travel Connoisseur is featuring an article by Susan called "Hybrid Hospitality: Cross-pollination in the fractional and destination club industry."

CLICK HERE to read it.

Puerto Penasco, Mexico

2007-06-12T02:23:00.000-04:00

I had forgotten what Southern California would be like were there not for Colorado water irrigation. I was told in my high school days that San Diego, Los Angeles and most other Southern California cities would not exist in the same form they are now, mainly because it is a semi-arid terrain. I was so ecologically and topographically naive! I never actually believed there could be desert-desert-desert- then OCEAN until I went to Dubai last year and saw vast stretches of beach, dune, tumbleweed, cactus, all alongside the Arabian gulf, with more building of hotels and office buildings there than once could imagine. I thought I would never see anything like that duplicated here, so close to home, but I did -- this weekend, in Puerto Penasco, Mexico -- only about 3 hours from where I LIVE, in Tucson.

Puerto Penasco, or Rocky Point as it is called by us Gringos, was once a sleepy little coast town where Spring Break partiers would go, drink, fall asleep on the beach, then get up and live another day on the dunes of Margaritaville. Now, everything has changed.

There are huge hotel after huge hotel going up on beaches almost as far as the eye can see, Dune Buggies race up and don the sand dunes, parasailing, heliskiing, jetskis, sailboats and yachts all can be seen, eah day, racing up and down the Gulf of California, while those who have bought their portion of paradise in their condo-hotel,or fractional, look on. Here's a taste:

I asked our driver who had lived in Puerto Penasco for five years, if he ever had met a person who had been born and raised there, and he said no, everyone who lives here comes from somewhere else. A a major condo-hotel and fractional developer told me there was literally NO unemployment in Puerto Penasco -- there were too many jobs and not enough people.

Puerto Penasco had a Dubai feel to it, really -- as once cab driver told me when I was there last year, "Camels yesterday, Ferraris today." There are no Ferraris as yet in Rocky Point, but the change from arid desert to hotel/condo-hotel/villa residence/fractional haven is palpable. The COMING SOON development signs are everywhere, stuck on the beach sand. I sensed, were I return within a few months, not a few years, I would not know the place. It is an overwhelming feeling watching such a growth process, it is like experiencing the process and the product of a fast-forward button all at once. Look quick! Civilization on the move!!

New 'Elite Traveler' Article Posted

2007-05-28T13:02:00.000-04:00

Residence Club Update

Spotlight: new column on The Helium Report

2007-05-24T22:41:00.000-04:00

Susan is pleased to present her new column for the luxury travel authority THE HELIUM REPORT.

Please CLICK HERE for Susan's first entry on The Aventuras Club!

The Shangri-La of the Eastern Caribbean

2007-05-20T16:55:00.000-04:00

" East is east, and west is west..." the old Kipling line went; and in general, at least in the Western hemisphere, this may be true. San Diego is different from Boston, Seattle is different from Bangor, and certainly, in Mexico, Cabo San Lucas -- the western Mexico, well-developed, commercial area along the Gulf of Mexico, is very different from eastern Mexico and the Mexican Caribbean.

Before my sons were born -- now about 30 years ago, my first press trip was to Merida and the Yucatan Peninsula. Even then, I loved the area -- it had a kind of old Spanish Colonial sense of place, and the ruins at Chichen Itza, Uxmal and the walled city of Tulum were very intriguing.

So, now, many years later, I just completed another great trip, again back to the same area, where much has changed, but much remains the same.

It's called the Riviera Maya, and it starts when you drive south of Cancun.Much is still jungle here, except the highway. There are many all-inclusive hotels along the road, then comes the major town of Playa del Mar -- replete with all the trappings of our American culture: a Wal-Mart, a McDonald's, and there, out in the jungle, a Gentlemen's Club. Ah, civilization.

I was in this area to do a site visit for a new fractional that was being built in a place called Puerto Aventuras. I came to see that this fractional, within this small wonderful community, was everything baby-boomers were looking for but had yet to find: a guard gated community, with everything that an aspirational community would want: a boutique hotel, Dolphin pools where you could swim with them, and the Manatees and seals if you wanted, a small fleet of fishing boats where you can go out each day and catch your dinner, then take your catch back to Gringo Dave's ( a gentleman named Dave Grove, from Pittsburgh) a restaurant who services include the cooking or grilling of the fish you bring in. There are small boutique shops where you can buy flimsy cotton clothes, you can swim in the lagoons or in the peaceful ocean. I was told by a local that even though the Miami Herald is brought down here daily, very few people read the paper. I understand this!

The fractional being built here is called the Aventuras Club -- and when all three projects are built, they will have unimpeded beachfront, or lagoon or marina ( with those small fishing boats coming in and out) views. The fractional model I saw was well-appointed, with unusual artistic touches -- soft colors, granite countertops,arched doorways, mahogany cabinets and brick ceilings in the living and bedroom areas, which kept the residence well-insulated, as well as providing a touch of old Spanish Colonial architecture. The price range for this begins at $50,000 for 1/13, which is 4 weeks. A good deal for such community!

Well, yes I did swim with the Dolphins, and I did, also go to Coba, another great, mysterious ruin, still partially covered by jungle. I was reminded of the mysterious Mayan culture -- they were exceptionally mathematical, and exceptionally blood-letting, two things that usually don't go together. Their soccer game, as an example, defines a Pyrrhic victory: the captain of the winning time was beheaded and he blood was spilled to make the land more fertile, and the captain of the losing team was sold into slavery. Ah, civilization!

The Sherpa Report

2007-05-09T23:18:00.000-04:00

Susan has written an article for the luxury travel website: The Sherpa Report.

The article is on The Capella at Pedregal, Cabo San Lucas, Mexico and can be found HERE.

Two New Articles Posted

2007-05-06T20:05:00.000-04:00

One from The Wealth Collection and one from Robb's Vacation Homes.

The
Collector's Instinct

Eye on Grand Cayman:
Exclusive Resorts teams up with the Ritz-Carlton on private residences

Of Lizards, Conferences, International Polo and Returning Home

2007-04-29T22:18:00.000-04:00

If anyone has been wondering where I have been, let me assure you that I am not dead, I was just in Florida for a very long time: 10 days. Being a native Californian, I had never thought much about the other state in the union that ALSO has Disney, Sea World, Universal Studios and a lot of oranges and retirees. But after ten days there, doing very diverse things, I have a lot to say.

First, I went to the IMN Conference in Orlando, where I presented four times, on an array of serious subjects endemic to the Private Residence Club Industry -- this included a presenting macro economic views, critical mass strategies of club membership, the undergirding of themed fractionals, and strategic directions involved in successful marketing and PR. It was exciting, but tiring. I had some time to look at Orlando, a town in Central Florida that did not even exist many years ago. Everything looked shiny and new, clean and organized, because it was. There were also many families there, many children running around. Though there were happy ones, there were also some very grouchy children with verys stressed out parents. I was reminded of the phase we as a family went though on our illustrious, and now mythic, FAMILY VACATIONS.

We would all get in the car, with the three dogs and drive somewhere -- Haddon and James, my two sons, would be fighting; the dogs, all Bassets, would be drooling and shedding, my husband would be in a happy altered state when he was driving -- and I would be swearing, each year I would never do this again. We all laugh at it now, but I saw the same kind of short-lived misery with a few of the families and the angry Princesses at DisneyWorld. Others seemed OK, so there is always a balance. But wait!! there's more...

After the conference, I was asked to be a guest of Saratoga Polo at the International Polo Tournament in West Palm Beach. I had not witnessed a Polo tournament for years, and certainly not at this level -- so I said yes. The house that was rented for us was an interesting place -- full of exotic orchids, some of John Lennon's original art collection, and also, had a few lizards and a small snake that greeted me when I got to my bedroom. Not scary, but just surprising.

What was more surprising was the artistry of the game of Polo, as seen as up close and personal as one could get. It is the second most dangerous sport in the world ( first is auto racing) -- and after seing it up close, I know why. Those horses go very fast, stop on a dime, and then go the other way. It is a sport where, I would imagine, all the Player's cognitive and spatial facilities must be in tact, and the risk is extreme. At the field the week before, a Polo player had been killed.

After spending a weekend there, going to two formal dinner parties, an Argentinian barbecue, and then the match, I came home. I was so happy to be with Ron, Dudley and LuLu. No matter how odd or exotic my travels, I am always happiest to return home. I am reminded, always of the last few lines of TS Eliot's poems

.....We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time......

The Travel Connoisseur

2007-03-31T09:44:00.000-04:00

A few months ago, I was asked to be the Editor-In-Chief of a new magazine called The Travel Connoisseur. It is published by D magazines, who also publish Golf Connoisseur and Wine Connoisseur.

This new magazine will be a high end lifestyle publication whose target audience will be the destination and private residence club industry. I said YES(!!) as I have experience in both the publisher and the editor end of the magazine business, but most notably, because it will be the first full magazine with a focus on the hugely expansive 2.5B shared residence industry, both nationally and internationally.

We will have major articles on the issues pressing the industry, as well as exotic destination and lifestyle pieces. You will also be able to read the latest fractional news, including market trends culled from the latest conferences, and interviews with company presidents.

This is going to be really innovative and exciting!!!

Click Here to order a free copy!

A Miracle in San Francisco

2007-03-12T00:14:00.000-04:00

Last week, I attended the Ragatz Fractional Interest Conference in San Francisco where I was invited invited to speak on the final day, Wednesday.

When Wednesday finally came, waiting for my turn seemed, if I thought about it, like waiting in a Dentist's office for three days in order to get a triple root canal. But I didn't think about it much, because I was in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, AND, at the Fairmont, one of the most elegant hotels of the world, with many people I knew and respected.

I knew what I wanted to say to the 525 people was not specifically reflected on my Powerpoint presentation. My presentation dealt with practical applications that could be used by beginning developers before engaging PR companies. But what I really wanted to talk about dealt with the unique socio-cultural success of this industry, how it relates to the post 9/11 mood of the country, and how the vision of the developer relates to this success; about how the clarity and integrity of such a vision must be at all times balanced with the bricks and mortars of practicality. Not very Powerpoint-y!

Wednesday comes along -- too soon! -- and I'm on the podium with some august,learned speakers, all of whom are having problems with their Powerpoint presentations, none of which are their fault -- there is feedback, voice-doubling, and sound-skipping on the microphone. When my name is finally called, I thought of this odd bit of information I had heard somewhere -- that the two things people are most terrified of are death and public speaking. At this moment, in front of 500 people, death would have been a far more pleasant alternative... however, a miracle occurred!

My Powerpoint remote does not work, and I say,"Enough with Powerpoints!" A great ovation comes from the audience...then, I tell them my presentation is in the handbook, and I began to talk about those subjects that I mentioned above. I quote some poetry as well. Looking at my audience instead of at my notes, I know that my presentation means something more to them, just as it means something more to me. No facts and stats backed up by Powerpoint slides, but ideas conceived from the heart.

Joyce Carol Oates once wrote, "The single voice is the communal voice" -- by that I think she meant that how we feel sometimes is how others feel. I am very glad to have had the chance to speak to my colleagues and peers in an everyday tone, following my own internal talking points rather than clicking through slides. This gave me a sense of oneness with the audience, and I am grateful that such a miracle occurred. Hopefully, the audience learned something, while I overcame a lot of primal fear. Such days don't happen often.

Except maybe in San Francisco...

Mammoth, California: Above and Beyond..

2007-02-25T17:39:00.000-05:00

I just returned from a trip to Mammoth, California where I visited the Snow Creek Resort. A short two-day trip, but trips like these always have the potential of being enormously relevant in terms of unexpected events. This was NO exception.

My husband told me, the day I left, that a large storm had roared into Portland, Oregon, and some snow might be coming into the Sierra Nevada Mountains. We took the private Citation jet of the developer, and it was bumpy going up there. I remember looking down, almost directly to the top of Mt. Whitney, far too close for comfort.
We bumped and ground along toward Bishop, California as it was too windy to land at Mammoth Lakes. I thought the wind was bad THAT day, I had NO IDEA what was in store.

The next day, we went up to the Mammoth mountain ski run, and took a Gondola ride up to the top. At the apex of the mountain, the wind, according to the daily chalkboard report, was betweek 60 and 80MPH. The wind slammed into the mountains, whipping the snow into a kind of powdered-sugar-dust-storm turbulence -- OF COURSE, the skiers were delighted. I watched in horror as the hot doggers skied literally off a cliff and took the Climax run, that was either into the wind or right behind them. I noticed only the big red signs -- mostly ignored by the skiers -- that said EXPERTS ONLY.

Halfway down, our Gondola stopped for a short time, as the wind was bounding many of the Gondola Cars and the ski lift chairs too much. I took a photo of where we were -- noting we were about 75 feet up in the air, bouncing. We were told soon thereafter that a major snowstorm was coming in and would drop about 6 feet of snow on the mountain, a little less below. But that evening was clear and perfect, the sky draped in starlight, and once again, thankfully, we could see the Milky Way, dazzling like a sequined scarf across the sky. The next day was another matter.

I arose early, and took my Blizzard Sunset photo, in my nightshirt from the porch of my residence. It was the last we would see of the sun that day. It snowed lightly, then in whirls. We did not fly out of Mammoth Lakes, but again had to go down to Bishop. We got on the plane, and proceeded to what I thought was the last flight of my life. I rarely think of death on small planes, but this flight I was sure we were going to die. I was painfully aware of my thought processes -- I did not say goodbye to my sons, I didn't think my husband knew where my will was, I was angry I took such chances in small planes, even though I trusted the pilots and the plane as much as I could. When we landed at Van Nuys airport, a car and driver was waiting to take me to the LAX airport. He said, after I had recounted my tale of horror, said, " You looked wonderful when you came out of the plane. If it were really a bumpy flight, you would have come out looking green.

Well, I returned to Tucson that night, grateful and painfully aware of beautiful, small things: the feel of my husband's woolly shirt when he picked me up, the ubiquitous dog hair in the car, and finally seeing Dudley and LuLu again. I patted them excessively, while telling them all about my trip. I took a picture of them as I was talking. LuLu seemed particularly attentive.

Rio de Janeiro

2007-02-08T19:59:00.000-05:00

I just returned from a fantastic trip to Rio! Most all of my colleagues and neighbors have asked me if I ever feared for my personal safety - I can say, truthfully, I never did.

Then again, I was so used to the kind of culture I was exposed to down there. As I stayed in a beautiful residence near Ipanema beach, what I saw was quite familiar - a beach culture similar to the one I grew up in, in Southern California: semi-naked people, happy and sedated with fresh coconut drinks in their hands, a hyper clean beach, non-threatening surf with happy children everywhere. But with any beach culture, there is a darker side, too - up at the Copacabana beach, many more people are there, from all social classes, it seems, and from all sexual persuasions. Banners are strategically placed in large sections of the beach, delineating which is the gay area, the family area, and other areas I did not ask about. But there the banners were - no images on them, only colors that all the natives seemed aware - not wary, of.

In contrast, and high up in a helicopter flying over the Rio beaches, I caught sight of the same beach I had walked on with the delineated areas. You could not see the flags, only the tiny people, small dots on the beach, putting orientations and persuasions into a more macro perspective.

We then flew high to the top of Corcovado Mountain where I saw the Cristo Redentor (Christ the Redeemer) in the Tijuca National Park. ALSO, the Corcovado Concrete Christ is one of the finalists being considered for the seven new wonders of the world. There were clouds all around, until we flew closer - the clouds parted and I took some photos. Illuminating, redeeming, hopeful, like my experience in and of Rio.

Geneva and the Desert Snow!

2007-01-17T17:08:00.000-05:00

First, I apologize for not having blogged for awhile! I will attempt to make up for it now... so many stories, so little time...

I just returned from Geneva where I gave a lecture at the Third International Luxury Real Estate Conference. I spoke on global trends in the luxury real estate and the fractional interest industry.

Geneva is a beautiful city, tri-lingual - English, French and German. The Lake is so large it borders France in some places! It is also a place where you can buy some excellent chocolate, Swiss Army Knvives and watches of all kinds - from the grand Raymond Weil/Tag Heuser/Patek Philippe/Rolex models, to any size shape or variety of Cuckoo Clock. I was spending some time and money at Bucherer, a famous jewelry store on the banks of Lake Geneva, at 10:00AM when all the Cuckoo Clocks clattered and banged in union. An unnerving, but unique experience.

The social culture of Geneva is genteel and charming, it is no wonder that the International headquarters of the United nations is here. It is a city of diplomacy -evident even in the leash law sign in a local park. It does NOT say ALL DOGS MUST BE ON LEASH - it says THE WALKWAY IS CREATED WITH THE SAFETY OF ITS CITIZENS IN MIND - then the image of the peaceful dog on leash, in contrast to the wild dog not on leash. If everyone could understand such diplomatic subtlety!

In mid-January Geneva's weather is damp and warm, early Spring weather, really. There was some snow in the Alps, but it had been warm Winter. Crocuses were coming up in Geneva - an interesting sight for January - BUT! I did see snow!! I flew back to Tucson, and on the evening I arrived, snow fell for the first time since 1999. You can see some photos above.

Athens, Greece

2006-11-06T00:41:00.000-05:00

The sky in Athens is as blue as the Grecian flag...

A week ago, in Athens at the Third Annual Leisure Options Symposium, I gave a presentation about the Evolution and Revolution of the Shared Residence Industry. I found out later that I was the ONLY female speaking, in the 2 1/2 days. What a responsibility!

I was always envious of those people who could make the room their own, just by being at ease up on stage. Not being a natural performer, I was never too comfortable doing this, but as time went along, I got better at it. By the time I had finished my presentation, I was answering questions with the best of them.

I feel I did a good job discussing the underlying shared ownership philsophy, and the growing need for sanctuary and legacy, especially in our post 9/11 world. When my talk was over, I breathed a sigh of relief. Now, I could go out and play!

Prior to this time, I had been to Athens once before, 11 years ago, with my son, Haddon. We were traveling abroad, he for the first time, so I could show him the world I knew as a travel writer, before I got married. He was a great traveling companion, and I remember that trip mostly for the food we consumed. I had never eaten more Kalamata Olives, Yogurt, Feta and Baklava before. On this trip, I ate more. I blame it all on the Mediterranean Diet my husband is on, and I am on by osmosis.

Athens always meant a lot to me, because I had taught a Greco-Roman Cultural Traditions Class at UC San Diego many years ago. I taught science and engineering students -- those who had no interest in any of this! -- Homer, Aeschylus, Euripides, Sophocles, and the Odes of Pindar and Sophocles. To be near the Plaka, and Syntagma Square where, many years ago, these authors walked, is still a thrill. One great writer said, " The past is never quite over."

How true this is, especially in Athens.

Chicago

2006-10-13T22:39:00.000-04:00

During the last week, I was in Chicago at the 11th Annual Luxury Real Estate Conference, where I presented on the Shared Residence Industry. I was held at The Four Seasons, and my room overlooked Lake Michigan, pictured here. I was born near the Pacific Ocean, and don't think I ever saw a LAKE until I was about 10 -- old enough to remember how odd it was to see a body of water that did not smell of salt, and did not have surf, either.

Though I have traveled widely, I never spent time or knew much about Chicago, until now. I have missed so much! If I were younger, I would move here, live in the cold Winters, the hot Summers, small prices to pay for having a Lake right outside the door, see yellow trees in Autumn, and pink Peonies in the Spring and Summer. Bound by Seasons, Chicagoans really KNOW where they are and who they are, unlike in other areas of the country where seasons seem afterthought-ish to other life concerns.

I will remember the blue of that Lake, and hearing the weather forecast on that day, also -- as on the day I left, it began to snow. One of my Chicago colleagues said, " Take a good look at that lovely blue lake, the next time you see it, it might be a frozen mess. Hard to believe, such change.

And with change --- I will be traveling to Athens, Atlanta, then to London in the coming weeks -- the more things stay the same. The Lake is the same, no matter what it's color, I will return home, gratefully.