The glitz and glam of Miami’s South Beach don’t jive with my style, but the lush tropical foliage and clean chic decor at Bonaventure Resort & Spa sure do. The hotel felt like a shimmering green oasis, distant from city and suburbia. The minute my husband and I arrived I kicked off my shoes and put my feet up, basking in warm afternoon sun on our private patio. Don’t know why, but the heated glow sure feels therapeutic.
I peeked into the Elizabeth Arden red door spa, wishing I had time for a treatment. When I saw the yoga room I was ready drop into a down dog pose. The room was built from honey-colored wood with a window at one end overlooking a garden waterfall. Totally zen. Next door was the most fab red leather Pilates Studio I’ve ever seen.
Pilates room in red door lifestyle spa
This being South Florida, a stop at the outdoor bar for a mojito was in order. My husband joined me and we moved inside to dine. On the way back to our room, I snapped this photo of the illuminated water.
Illuminated pool
The Suite
In our suite we enjoyed a kingsize bedroom, full kitchen and living room hiding the flat screen TV in a decorative armoire. The lavish bathroom was about the size of most European hotel rooms. Cinnamon colored marble and tile filled the space offering a private toilet and bidet, separate shower and tub, plus a spacious room-for-two sink area. We slept well amid a bounty of pillows and fine Egyptian cotton sheets.
British colonial style bedroom
After a breakfast buffet including made-to-order eggs, we were off for Key West. The first night on the road, a relaxing interlude away from work and the busy world. I recommend skipping the fast-paced Miami scene and choosing to stay in the serene Bonaventure.
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If you go: The AAA-rated Four Diamond hotel is located 15 miles from the Fort Lauderdale International Airport off Interstate 75. The Conference Center offers over 60,000 square feet of meeting place within the 23-acre certified Green Lodging property. In addition to the spa, guests have access to first-rate tennis and championship golf facilities.
How many activities can one stuff into 5 days on an island only 3.5 times the size of Washington, DC? Well, I found enough on St Lucia to fill my plate, in fact there’s plenty more for super-sized appetites.
From Miami, connect directly to the Caribbean isle. All-inclusive resorts abound; my choice was Coconut Bay. You’ll arrive in time for a drink and a walk along the beach before dinner.
For starters, I decided to explore the island on an All Terrain Vehicle (ATV). Within a few minutes, I mastered the four-wheeled bike. I zoomed through grassy fields and up rocky ledges, peering at the Atlantic pounding the shore. I scooted onto sandy beaches where wild horses were grazing and then over to a banana plantation. Row after row of trees hung with bunches of green bananas. Having satisfied my taste buds, I returned my big-wheeled bouncing cycle.
For my entree, I spent the afternoon in one of the most glorious sites I’ve ever visited– Jalousie Beach. I snorkeled under the shadow of the pyramid-like Petite Piton, gazing up at its nearby twin, the Gros Piton. These famous mountains are St Lucia’s landmarks, rising like textbook drawings of volcanoes out of the sea. They blossom in lush foliage and are often shrouded in mist.
Scuba diving was an option, and St Lucia ranks with some of the world’s best. But the Caribbean shines so clear; you can see to great depths without the hassle of air tanks.
The next day I took the ultimate island challenge: a hike to the summit of Gros Piton, almost 3,000 feet. The trail of treacherous loose and moss covered rocks rises near vertical in places. The UNESCO World Heritage site requires guides to safely lead groups through the climb.
View from my hike - halfway up the Gros Piton
Stop at the halfway point. The view is as gorgeous as I imagine the Garden of Eden. Light crystals bounce off the water like shards of glass. The Pitons, in sharp contrast to the turquoise water, shine in ebony beauty. The arduous hike took five to six hours roundtrip. I returned to my hotel exhausted and aching, but wearing an “I Conquered” tee shirt.
On day four, I chose to kayak. Aah, tranquility is silently gliding by the mangroves in a sleek shell. The sapphire lake permitted clear visibility of the colorful tropical fish. My group stopped at Scorpion Island, and fortunately, we didn’t encounter any venomous arachnids. I did find a spectacular conch shell with a radiating fuchsia interior.
Returning once more to Coconut Bay, I rocketed down the water slides in their CocoLand Water Park, coming up with a big grin. To completely relax, I floated twice around the man-made Lazy River until massage time. Indulgence? You bet, but necessary! The Kai Mer Spa enveloped me in jasmine scents as my body soaked in the therapeutically applied oil.
On the last day I squeezed in my dessert: a morning excursion to the Tree Tops Zipline. Letting loose my inner child, I gleefully traversed the rainforest canopy over majestic rivers and plunging ravines. To soar like a parrot was an exhilarating way to end my island extravaganza.
Ziplining through the rainforest
By afternoon I boarded a plane and returned to Jacksonville at nightfall.
Some travelers vacation to escape life; others seek to engage the physical, mental or spiritual challenges. The tiny island of St Lucia offers a lavish banquet to satisfy both hungers. Her natural wonders are a menu in themselves. And, for those who want soup to nuts adventure, she offers a bountiful buffet of eco-friendly options. Fly away and feast on St Lucia.
ASSISI is the beloved city of God; birthplace of St. Francis and St. Clare. The location radiates an atmosphere that touches the mind, body and spirit in heavenly ways.
Kathy, Cory and I arrive at the Umbrian train station and view an oatmeal-colored medieval town, sprawled over Mount Subasio.
We take the taxi up the hill and check into our room at San Crispino Historic Mansion, divine lodging nearly hidden from the road. The Sister Moon and Stars Suite is, in fact, below street level. Our two rooms feature stone floors, a wooden table and chairs, a fresco of St. Francis, and blue vaulted ceilings adorned with a starry skies. I find the snack filled armoire–including a cappuccino machine and best of all- we walk out into our own private walled garden. As I said- heavenly.
Standing in the garden I’m in awe gazing out on the expansive valley. What a sight–we can see the facade of the Basilica of St.Clare on our left, the apse of St. Maria Maggiore on your right, and the domes of Chiesa Nuova and San Rufino Cathedral in front.
Kathy basks in the sunlight.
The afternoon is fading so we step up pebble-lined stairways, along crooked paths, to the mid-town square. Italian men cluster around benches discussing world problems or is it their grandchildren? Local women carry groceries in open-weave bags.
Tourists sit in cafe’s and restaurants, browse the shops and visit numerous religious buildings. There are two basilicas and countless monasteries, convents, chapels and holy shrines in this tiny town of 25,000.
Spring blossoms everywhere: bright geraniums in pots, cascading greenery drips from balconies, red poppies bloom in the grassy valley below. You sense that residents care about beauty and nature.
Wandering around we lose our way in the labyrinth of tiny alleys. No problem. Life-long resident, Grandma Pat comes to the rescue. She wears the standard outfit of older Italian women — a black dress.
The dear lady speaks nothing but Italian as she hobbles along with her cane. She escorts us back to our hotel and says, “Statci Uniti–Papi?” Yes, the Pope is visiting the US.
Dinner turns into a bountiful party — wine, antipasti, wine with pasta, and a seafood entree. Coffee please, but we must split dessert.
Falling into bed, I gaze at the celestial ceiling reciting prayers of gratitude. I am most fortunate to be here with my daughter-in-law and her mother. Sleep comes easy, exhausted from our flight and less than 24 hour blitz through Florence.
Sunrise and birdsong awaken us and we sip coffee in our garden, munching pastries fresh from the bakery. Am I really here? A little pigeon makes his home in a hole in the wall. What sublime tranquility. I envy the lady who tells us she is staying a month.
Our guide arrives to lead a tour of the famous monuments and help us understand their history. We hear of cloistered nuns, called Poor Clares, visit the pink limestone Basilica of St Clare and gaze into the original crucifix of San Damiano- the one which inspired St. Francis to convert in 1205.
Roman ruins are found at Minerva’s ancient temple, now converted to a church. I’m stunned at the altar Madonna, crowned with an electrified halo.
A funeral leaves the Church of St. Rufino, and then we enter, finding St Francis’ baptismal font, over 800 years old. We learn Francis was the son of a cloth merchant and is known to have been a party boy in his early years.
Time for a stop at the cafe. I find it hard to refuse tempting confections, oozing a buttery mix of nuts, sugar and cinnamon. Instead, I take a photo and then taste perfection in a frothy latte.
Together we climb steep walkways to the upper town, arriving at Via Santa Maria delle Rose. This building holds a permanent sculpture exhibit by artist Guido Dettoni della Grazi. He created the most extraordinary Virgin Mary. In fact there are 33 Marias, each made from a different wood, one for each year of Christ’s life.
Viewed from different angles, the piece gently morphs into the kneeling Virgin receiving the Annunciation, a woman carrying the pitcher to the well, an expectant mother, and the Blessed Mother holding the Child (my favorite). If turned horizontally, she becomes the Dove of Peace.
We purchase a small copy, grasping it within our fist and thumb. It fits snugly, feels sleek and soothing, like a polished stone. But a sensation of security extends beyond my hand, as if I am being held.
Finally, we descend into the immense Basilica of St. Francis. The structure is really two churches constructed over the Saint’s tomb. Pope Gregory IX laid the foundation stone in 1228 and consecration occurred in 1253. What a short time to build such an enormous shrine.
Highlights are the colorful frescoes by Giotto, simple, quaint and expressive. They depict the life of St. Francis in pictorial art, bringing the Middle ages to life. Many artists worked over 130 years creating the masterpieces for these hallowed halls; the most famous: Martini, Cimabue and Giotto.
I feel comfortable here and could sit in the sacred setting for hours and meditate. But we must hurry, another relaxing option waits. We get a ride downhill through the green fields of Assisi. The added bonus–a chance to photograph the town from afar.
An afternoon of pampering at San Crispino Spa includes a steam bath, Jacuzzi, and an olive oil massage. Aaah. We are rejuvenated at the idyllic retreat, and the only non-Italians on the property.
Back up the road and an evening stroll. We indulge in another fantastic repast- glad we had reservations. Meandering back, a full moon rises over St. Clare’s Basilica. What could possibly top the natural phenomenon?
Mass the next morning; an intimate moving experience in a big Basilica. One just seems closer to God here. The air is pure, no Byzantine gold or Renaissance glam. A mood of simplicity, piety and peace prevails, yet the village is alive. Little boys kick big rubber balls on the church steps. Men gather at the fountain. Tour buses start to roll up the hill.
I could stay here, learn Italian, and study art. Kathy puts it this way, “This is a place to let go, let God.” I like that.
But it is time to leave, take the train to Bella Roma. I hesitate, wanting to linger. Instead, I leave my heart and lug my suitcase full of heavenly memories.
