Lake Placid Lodge, Lake Placid, New York

The only thing I know about The Adirondacks in upstate New York is that they are famous for their lovely outdoor chairs.  And the only thing I know about Lake Placid is what I learned from the critically-acclaimed 2007 movie Lake Placid 2 (17% on Rotten Tomatoes!).

That is to say, I know nothing, and when I saw these unbelievable photos of the Lake Placid Lodge, I wanted to know more. 

This winter wonderland is exactly the kind of cozy place I'd like to hibernate in until spring comes around.

p.s. Please forgive my month away from Let's Stay Here.  I've recently started a new job (horray!) and am trying to figure out a way to make this happen during off hours.

La Quinta Troppo, Zihuatenejo, Mexico

Remember my irrational sense of ownership over the entire country of Peru?  Well, don't even get me started about Mexico.  I basically run the place.  The big difference is that I've actually been to Mexico.  Like, many times.

I've been known to say that I come from a long line of Jews who like to appropriate other people's cultures.  Kind friends have often referred to me as an honorary Arab or honorary Indian to make me feel like part of their club.  But it doesn't start with me.  My great grandfather, a Russian immigrant to Los Angeles, ran a dairy farm in Covina.  It was no surprise that my grandmother, who grew up with Spanish-speaking farm-hands, sought out a Master's Degree in Spanish from the University of Chicago.  (A young woman getting a graduate degree in 1940?  Yup, total bad ass.)

And my father, who only consumed novels in Spanish, read La Opinión regularly, and had us going out for Mexican food at least 3 times a week, famously drove 3 hours across Nebraska to eat at Taco Bell, the only "Mexican food" in the state when he was getting his dental degree there in the 1960's.  And it goes on.  My sister jokes that we went from mother's milk to refried beans and my chef brother is contemplating opening a Mexican restaurant in San Francisco.  We're not Mexican, I know, but sometimes it really feels like we are.

This hotel, La Quinta Troppo, in the state of Guerrero, reminds me of vacations we took as a family to Acapulco and Puerto Vallarta.  I love Mexico's Pacific Coast and it has been on my list for a long time to visit Zihuatenejo.  Thank you Welcome Beyond for the lovely photos.

Mr. C Beverly Hills

I'm not ashamed to admit it. I love Beverly Hills.

Perhaps it was those regular childhood brunches with my grandparents at Nate & Al's that carved out a soft spot in my heart for the neighborhood. Or maybe it's just that BH's 'Golden Triangle' is undeniably beautiful.

When I used to work in Beverly Hills, I'd occasionally have a pre-work dental appointment a few blocks away and would take an early weekday stroll through the neighborhood. Before all the Russian tourists, SUVs, and weird botox ladies show up, I'd get a clear glimpse of why Beverly Hills is famous around the world. At 7:30am the valets are reporting to work in perfectly ironed uniforms, crisp white table clothes are being placed on sidewalk tables, and old men in linen suits are sipping espresso. It's not famous just because it's fancy. It's famous because it's legitimately glamorous in a one-of-a-kind California way. (And there are diagonal crosswalks, so how can you hate on that?)

This is why I'm really excited about the recently opened Mr. C Beverly Hills. The design is exactly what a Beverly Hills hotel should be. Crisp, clean, and sophisticated with shout-outs to old Hollywood glamor that seem more like a nod to tradition than kitsch. Never mind that it's not technically in 'The Golden Triangle.' The hotel is owned and run by the Cipriani family, made famous by the iconic Harry's Bar on Piazza San Marco in Venice. That means lots of delicious pasta and Italian cocktails to boot.

Who's in for a bellini at the pool right now?

Tree Houses

The summer I graduated from college I went on a month-long driving trip across the American South. We mostly pitched tents at steamy, mosquito-infested campgrounds, but on a few occasions, we splurged and stayed at a hostel. The most memorable of these was The Hostel in the Forest in Brunswick, Georgia.

Situated deep in the Georgian forest, the hostel is made up of a geodesic dome, 9 tree houses and a whole crew of crazypants hippies. The gong outside the communal space signifies both meal times and collective bong toke times. It's all vegetarian, there's a sweat lodge, saw dust composting toilets, and most importantly, clothing is optional.

Photo here and above by Molo Nomsa

As a young commie, I was super into it. But then while I was swimming naked in the black bottom grotto I started talking to one of the many dudes who worked/volunteered there. The conversation went something like this:

Rachel: So do you get paid to work here?
Dude: No. But I get all the pot I want and I get to see naked girls walking around.
Rachel: Oh. Cool.

This made getting out of the pool slightly awkward. Isn't there some unspoken rule at nudist colonies that says you're not supposed to admit you're enjoying it?

Anyway, the point of this post is not to contemplate the weirdness of hippies. The point is to celebrate the awesomeness of tree houses. Despite nearly suffocating while covered in mud in a sweat lodge, I really did enjoy staying at The Hostel in the Forest. At least 95% of my enjoyment came from our private tree house room.

Tree houses are incredible. They are the best possible way to fulfill childhood tree nymph fantasies and, more practically, to keep all the little forest critters at bay. I'm very glad to see that people other than Ken Kesey groupies are jumping on the tree house train.

Did you see the super sweet spread of tree house hotels on Apartment Therapy?

Tree Houses Hotel Costa Rica

Financial Times also did a list of tree houses a few months ago. Look at this crazy future tree house in Sweden.

Treehotel, Sweden

I know I'm going out on a limb here (har har), but how amazing would it be to have a tree house hotel in the hills of Echo Park?

Alright. Stoner fantasy over. But it coulda been so cool, man.

The Morning Reveal

One of the very best parts of traveling to a new place is arriving at night and then waking up in the morning to a location reveal.

Have you seen the movie Enchanted April? I recently watched it again and realized it's not nearly as good as I remembered. BUT the money shot is still the money shot.

After a long train journey from London to Italy, two tired, middle-aged British women arrive to a dark and rainy Italian villa. They think they've made a horrible decision renting the place, but in the morning, they open their wooden shutters to find a glimmering Lake Como (see second 00:57).



My most memorable travel reveal happened on a trip I took 14 years ago from Cairo to northern Israel. After a miserably hot and dusty 12-hour bus ride across the Sinai desert (with the sickest squat toilet I've ever used), through the not-so-friendly Egypt-Israel border crossing, and after getting lost in Tel Aviv searching for a connecting bus, I was dropped at a dark gas station just off of a major highway. 15 minutes after figuring out how to use an Israeli pay phone, Ashley, an old friend, arrived in the back of a pick-up truck to take me to her kibbutz.

In the morning, I opened the door of her pale purple cabin to find I was in a dream. Situated in the middle of a eucalyptus grove, the kibbutz was filled with the fresh smell of citrus and lavender. While Ashley spent the morning picking avocados, I sat on a bench watching a small tortoise's determined journey from one tree to another.

I bring this up now because it just happened again. Jared and I went to Ojai for a wedding last weekend and thanks to a tip off from HBT we rented out The Love Shack instead of staying at a hotel.

We drove up from LA after sunset, arrived in the darkness, and woke up to this.




The best part was that while we could hear water near the the cabin at night, we had no idea how close we were to the river until the morning.


Such a great morning reveal!

p.s. That villa on top isn't the one in Enchanted April. Just a random photo from the internet of a villa that may or may not belong to George Clooney.

Silver Lake Home for Vacation Rental

I just found this sweet vacation home rental in the hills of Silver Lake on the airbnb.com site. It feels weird that I want to rent out a house that's .3 miles from my own.

I can't get the photos on my own page but, seriously, go look at it. It's so stylish and Silver Lake-y!