lizgeorjon

My Louboutin-wounded ankle from stepping out of the taxi with about 27 wooden hangars, after my NY event

I made it to Cannes!  Now we all know I tend to procrastinate and there’s always some degree of mischief I gravitate toward.  But I have to admit, that in this particular case, I have been preparing for this trip for what seems like forever.  Yet, it’s been a comedy of errors, as usual!  It all started with an honorable invitation to a very elite International Luxury Travel Market.  How I got invited is still a bit if a mystery, but as I lie, foot elevated and iced, in my massive suite in this gorgeous 5+ star boutique just a block from Palais des Festivals, with the most amazing champagne-included complimentary breakfast, I am certainly not complaining.  I’m participating in a conference, which required me to read 1600 bios, then choose and rank 60 travel suppliers (i.e, hotel or airline) that I care to meet with, in order of personal importance, for 20-minute appointments, each.  I will have 50 in 3 days.  Then after-parties, at least three every night.  This is no brag, it’s been a ton of work.  I still have the business to keep up!  But I had been practicing my Rosetta Stone, planned to do my newsletter last weekend, would pack last Wednesday, do an event on Thursday, and end-of-month invoicing and reports on the plane!  Voila!  Pas de probleme.

Originally, I decided to go to Amsterdam after Cannes since I’ve not been and have clients that go regularly.  I swear it has nothing to do with the recent lift of their ban on tourists partaking in the local… um, culture.  Local culture, that’s it!  To my defense, I am scheduled for drinks and dinner with a client of a client who lives there.

Then I was meant to head home before the Berkeley festivities begin.  But a couple months ago, a very important client asked me to be onsite in London to manage a three-day event for their entire company of 31 people.  It just happened to fall right in between Amsterdam and the wedding.  My naivety and ego gracefully accepted with nothing but an ‘I can do it’ attitude.  Realizing this meant that I would now have to go straight from London to San Fran, having no time to stop home in NY for even a night.  That is a lot to pack for!  Conference and cocktail parties all week, followed by kicking it in Amsterdam, followed by managing biz meetings, hosting team-building then another cocktail party, then my appropriate wedding attire.  I decided to pamper myself by hiring personal assistance for the London bit.

As a few of you gorgeous people are fully aware, sometimes that ego morphs itself into anxiety!  And your continual support are what actually got me to France.  xoxo

Now I am not shy about over-packing, but it was a bit scary waking up the day of this whirlwind tour in excruciating pain, having not packed a thing yet and unable to move my left foot.  This was Friday.  Here’s what happened:

Just to keep it interesting, my same client for the London gig, hired me for a gig in NY on Thursday night.  Thankfully, that office party was executed better than I imagined and all was well.  Until the inevitable after-party.  I was in my best fancy office party dress and Christian Louboutin stilettos.  I have to play the part, which I might add, the shoes did not go unnoticed.  The after-party ensued a little internal employee drama, which I somehow felt compelled to help fix, making it a later than expected night.  But, after gathering all my things (radio, hangars, computer, etc) and grabbing a taxi, honestly only a couple cocktails in, when I stepped out of the taxi on my cute little E. 74th Street, I just stepped wrong out the left door and sort of slow-motion fell forward onto one knee… not hard, no scrape even.  Bobby, my homeless guy was on the heat grill in front of my building and even came over to help me.  “Liz, are you okay… are you wasted again?”  He is so sweet when he’s not on crack.  I was actually fine, Bobby helped me up, I went upstairs and washed my hands  🙂  and thought hmm, I might ice my left foot.  Then I was called in for duty, my friend needed an ear and helpful analysis after his aforementioned drama.  I needed to pack!  But, what are you gonna do!?  When someone needs you, you just deal.

I went to bed late, ice pack on my dresser (warm) and awoke in this crazy pain with a swollen foot.  Several tears, a little panic, and cries for help later… my own personal team of experts had me up and running by 1:00pm.  My sweet little pseudo-daughter, I could not have made it without her ibuprofen and getting me an ace bandage and red bull.  Total kismet, she just happened to have an early two-hour lunch and her mom’s 800mg ibu on her!

Technically, I don’t ‘have to’ do anything until Tuesday, for the conference.  I had planned to tour, shop and go for fabulous jogs along the Mediterranean Sea, but I knew if I could just GET to Cannes, I should be okay and could nurture my injury just as well (or as its turning out, better) whilst here.  My sis Kath’s advice to force some boots on for ankle support was priceless.

I slept, iced my foot, and worked all yesterday, until 2:00am local time.  Now I’ve finished this lovely French breakfast, after sleeping late, and look forward to my spa day.  Or, rehabilitation-due-to-swollen-foot day.  Trust me, I’d rather be jogging. Or at least jogging before spa!

But, I did it!  3 tall boots, 3 jackets, 3 suits and 7 jeans.  I did it.

When Mrs. Roper, diligently researching custom cake options for the London party called me on Friday, it could have been her effervescent “well if anyone can do it, you can!”, coupled with the house call, pep-talks, instructions for care, and good old-fashioned support that got me up and packing.  I’m very fortunate and grateful.

A glass of champagne-for-breakfast in, I wonder, almost seriously, why do I not live in France!!?  Un jour, je le ferai.

Wish you all a happy Sunday!  My journey has barely just begun, but you know I will make the most of it.

And yes, I will apply heat at night now!   😉

Breakfast at Five Hotel in Cannes, perfectionnement!

A boring photo to coincide with a boring place!

What the f just happened?

I realize the question must often pass ones mind: “why does she keep going to San Francisco if she hates it so much!?”.  Here’s your answer: Kelly, my goddess of youthful agelessness and injections.  Oh.  And my aunts and cousins.  🙂  I love you family, you know I do… but until one of you are able to deliver such glowing results to my physical appearance, Kelly gets the cred.  Vanity.  I learned it from the best.  Or, more pointedly: ‘self-love’.  🙂

I think I’ve officially stolen the word ‘diatribe’ and it will be used in the book.  Proper acknowledgment will follow.

I’m very confused right now, because I’m inflight, and ‘cute guy’ from the lounge just walked from first class back toward coach and I don’t think he’s resurfaced.  Although he did wave.  Let’s see if I spot him by the end of this.  I did have a bit of an entrance to my flight.  I missed my opportunity to board with everyone else.

But a diatriber, I am!  The last few hours were so comical, I simply have to share.  In case it wasn’t clear, or more to the point, if anyone cares, I’m not so fond of slow-mo SFO.  However, I will continue to come three times a year and as work requires, until the day I die.  Unless Kelly moves.

I flew to San Fran on Monday, and its no big secret how stupid busy I am with work.  But I attempted to have a little Liz time anyway.  Which is next to impossible when you mix business with pleasure as much as I do!

Though, I had an exceptionally lovely day yesterday.  Adult lunch with the perfect couple (not that I don’t love your kids, but I will hopefully see them in December!), then off to my appointment, new knee high boots with an unexpected $100 off, drinks with a friend also in town, followed by dinner with auntie.  And it is WELL noted that we had a plan, a res and it actually happened.  Needless to say, yesterday was like living in never-never-land (wait, that used to be what we called my house).  Today was a little different.

I woke up at 5:57am, with a massive headache, every light on and still fully clothed, sans the pants.  A quick pass by the mirror nearly frightened me.  Full make up, red lips still and I looked like a battered girlfriend.  I shut everything off and tried to ignore the repeated dings of incoming email as long as I could.  I worked all morning, or more appropriately put: I fielded incessant unnecessary email, diatribe-chatted with ‘my person’, dealt with London, and packed up early for the airport.  I needed SF Soup Co. hangover-cure tortilla soup and a glass of champagne.  Hair of the dog was a requirement so I could continue to work vigilantly.

Here’s the necessary visual: I am in my new favorite lulu, sneakers and day-old hair.  Because I don’t care anymore.  I can’t market the biz right now so why not be comfortable.  It looks like Kelly and I had a cat fight at my botox appointment.  It happens.  Not the cat fight bit, but bruising with botox.  Doesn’t usually happen to me, but it matters not.  Completely worth every stare in the airport.  It sort of adds to the hilarity.

Anyway, headache was finally gone, soup eaten and in the lounge I sit, scoping the cute guy in a suit with no wedding ring at the other end of the bar.  Would have been nice if someone had told me I had chicken tortilla soup crusted onto my chin, to go with my black eye and joggers.  🙂

I observed how much I hate San Fran all the way to the airport with my new Malian driver, sharing hate text with my cohort of SF hatred, and feeling like the whole world, or at least San Francisco, was moving in slow motion.  It took me literally 30 minutes to get from Stockton and Sutter to the fucking freeway.  I digress.

Back to the lounge and the flurry to finish the last sip before heading to the changed-gate flight.  I am sensitive to this for reasons that a few of you might remember.  So of course, with all my nifty travel agent tools at hand, I keep checking flight status and think it’s a bit odd that when clicking on ‘where did this flight come from’, it references the exact flight I flew in on Monday.  Weird.  Figured it’s another glitch in United’s new system.

I lost sight of the cute guy and headed down to gate 86, mind you, I have my usual gear in tow: Sees Candy for Ivo and a box of tall boots that is about as tall as I am.

False alarm.  Nobody boarding.  However cute guy walks up and makes conversation.  Although his lead in question after the initial, “what’s the word on boarding” was: “are you planning to work out on the plane?”.  Kind of a douche bag question.  I answered honestly, “no.  I’m hung over and decided to be comfortable today.”  Let’s not lose sight of the battered girlfriend look I’m sporting.  [all worth it Kelly, this email touches no one who doesn’t ‘get it’ – and that I write for affect, or is it effect? Janice help!].  He made up for his lame question, a little, with banter and finding out that our flight, delayed due to ‘airport conditions’, was indeed the aircraft I flew here on Monday, stored in a hangar and it would be a while before it got to the gate.  Then I spot Tara.  This two-doors-down neighbor who I see at Le Steak from time to time.  Cute guy has no interest in watching Tara and I catch up, and bails.  Any earned points with the flight update vanished immediately.  Chatting with Tara (not always the easiest, especially if you know the Le Steak crowd), she takes a call so I wander back to the lounge.  I take the time to tell the lounge lady my sitch and need her to make an announcement for flight 637.  She calls gate 86, everything is good.  My flight kept being pushed out 10 minutes, and so I wait patiently, work, listen intently for my announcement.

A few moments later, my heart about dropped.  This couple, clearly work mates, come and approach one of the two spaces me and my boots occupy.  I begin to move things, make space and apologize, then I look up and seriously thought it was my former sleazy boss.  I actually had to secretly look a few times even after the initial eye contact and look of battered girlfriend horror, to triple check that it really wasn’t him.  He was even wearing the same ugly old-man Wrangler jeans.  Wasn’t him though.  Just a friendly little reminder of my looming encounter with him this Monday night!

It started to get late and the flight updates stopped, so I mosy over to the counter and see the word ‘CLOSED’ next to my flight.  Admittedly, I began to freak.  And we all know that is no pretty sight.  Battered or not.  No, I was semi-okay, just firmly insisted they call the gate, explained there was no announcement.  I had specifically asked for an announcement given that one never knows how long it will take for a plane to be towed out from the hangar.  I threw out a few “love United’s customer service” comments out there.

I dart back to my spot, collect all my items and hurry, but not high-tail it, to gate 86.  Lounge ladies ignored my update request as I dash by.  Slow-mo prevails and I am trapped behind the high heeled girl, and then short round guy.  My boots, carry-on, jacket and I arrive to the empty gate and they say “oh you’re Ms. Costello, no worries.  We are waiting for the food”.  I enter the plane, which had probably been boarded for thirty minutes, and I was clearly the only action they’d seen in a while.  I was a little frazzled and some guy was sitting in my seat.  5A is mine.  I wasn’t oriented or clear if I entered in first or biz so I walked through, then had to backtrack.  I said nicely to the man, “excuse me, I believe you’re in my seat”.  His response: “well… uh, she (insert pointed finger here) said I could switch”.  A few seconds later he mumbles “I like the window”, then asks “uh… do you want the window or aisle?”.  My curt reply was “I would like the seat I booked six months ago”.

Meanwhile, the flight attendant (I cannot be racist), in her broken english, keeps repeating “you get beef”.  I’m thinking WTF is happening.  I haven’t even sat down.  Am I on a game show?  Am I being Punk’d?  If cute guy unzips a body suit to reveal himself as Ashton Kutcher, I would think it was hilarious.

Obviously due to my early menopause hot flashes  😉  or maybe just my hang over (thanks auntie and HDJH, really, thank you), I’m flush and ‘glistening’ in my battered botox glory.  The other flight attendant interrupts the incessant ‘you get beef’ lady, and takes the boots and jacket from me to help.

I finally settle down.  ‘you get beef’ clearly has some food issues, and some safety issues.  She is banging around her late-arrived bins of food and replays the safety video for my benefit.  FFS.  My thoughts are, “this will be a fun flight”, “where is neighbor Tara” and “am I making a scene”.  My seat mate turns over to me and says “last minute upgrade, eh?  I’m Joe from Livermore”.  Just shoot me now.

They closed the doors about 15 minutes later and while taxiing “you get beef” comes over to me, genuinely apologizes and says she’s looked up my status (I am no 1K) and says I may have chicken or pasta too, if I would like.

Thank Zues I wasn’t pee crazy.  And I still have not spotted cute guy.  We’ll leave that fun for baggage collection and awkward attempt to avoid Tara for fear she’ll want to hone in on my car home.  

(update on cute guy- I’ve just stored my stuff for landing and he’s in row 9.  Smart guy, exit row like me.  Which also means he was witness to my chaos upon entrance)

I will admit that I actually had one of the best visits, when all is said and done.  Although my cohort of SF hatred and I already promised never to admit that the weather was actually good.  😉

See all you San Franciscans in February for a little pre-birthday pick-me-up, literally!  Oh wait, I’ll be back for the ceremony in December.  xoxo

The Andes Mountains

I have mixed more languages in the last few days than I even knew I know.  Nobody can understand what the hell I’m saying anyway, so I just lead in with “mi espanol es un paquito” and leave it at that.  Then it’s a free-for-all of “s’il vous plait”, “da nada”, “quantos cuesta”, “ciao” and “obrigado”.

On the final stretch now, and I no longer care.  Especially flying over the gorgeous snow capped Andes, back to Brazil.  I’ve been convinced to ‘give Rio a try’ since I’m already right here.  I’ve deduced my mission for this part of the trip to finding hot Brazilian women topless and in thong bikinis to photograph.  Not for me, of course.  The things I do for my clients…

Thanks to my incredible Skype tutor, I can talk on the phone for cheap!  The other night a friend said: “you’re in third world countries”, along with repeated reminders to please be safe.  Third world really is not the case.  Though let’s leave the teetering Brazil out of it for now.  This continent was discovered not long after (I think 1492, with all due respect to the indigenous people) North America, and they have their own thing going on!  In Argentina and Chile especially, the metro system is fabulous, technology seems to be up to par and it’s not, by any stretch of the concept: third world.  Chile is so clean, and big.  Tidy but mellow, if that makes any sense.  People on their mobile phones, in suits, grabbing lunch to go, but not like NYC at 1:00pm in midtown.  Less chaotic.  Argentina was far more Parisian.  Chilean wine, I discovered, is my personal preference.  Again, leaving Brazil out, the food was remarkable in Chile especially, and Argentina.  And I’ve been told I am picky!

So I am now back to the horrifyingly expensive Brazil.  Transfer to my hotel on Copacobana Beach was offered for a mere $215 USD.  I kid you not.  Rio de Janeiro, sigh.  No wonder Nilmar left!  I am more nervous coming into ‘Bail Rio’, especially after shit hole Sao Paulo, than I have been anywhere else, except maybe Dayton, Ohio.  Hopefully I will be pleasantly surprised (rather than actually chopped up into little pieces) and can give a clean bill of passage to those hopeful Olympic spectators.  I can tell you this right now: start saving your bennies (not pennies), because this glorified Mexico is going to break the bank.

I don’t remember if I was as ready to come home after my big Thai trip last year.  I think maybe the business has grown giving me less freedom.  And being on the same time zone is harder.  But thanks to three especially helpful, competent, patient and supportive friends… looks like I’m going to make it through!  I’m severely missing NYC and my Hale & Hearty salad, run in Central Park and egg-spinach wrap.  😦  I’ll heed the advice from What About Bob and baby step it to this weekend when I am HOME!

More importantly, why is LAN, which I’ve discovered is (deservedly) South America’s #1 airline, playing stupid Two and a Half Men with loser Charlie Sheen!!?  He should just marry Lindsay Lohan, NOT procreate, and drug each other to their hearts’ content, outside the eye of the public.  Or, here’s a thought, maybe the American public could stop giving a rat’s ass what either of them do!  (tangent, sorry)  I want to organize a ‘Keep LiBlo Out of Media’ club.

Genuinely, I am grateful for the opportunities I have, and then there’s this side: ‘blow me United’.  All of this is their fault with baiting me to make Platinum this year.  Bravo Liz, alfajores for all!  I’m so relieved to realize my priorities are in good shape.

Happy Birthday, albeit belated, to Handsome DJ Handsome.  🙂

Buenos Aires is absolutely lovely, and so green!

I wish I could say this beautiful photo was taken on my jog along Avenida Adolfo Berra in the newly beloved Buenos Aires.  I wish.  Instead it was taken from the window of my taxi en route to Palermo SoHo to shop after my sites at Park Hyatt and Four Seasons.  Shop.  That entailed a quick peruse through a street market, a short negotiation on two pair of super cute Argentine earrings, and then I spotted the pub.

This was yesterday afternoon, but let me start with my arrival in Argentina a few days earlier.  You need the back story.

First of all, Brazil blows.  I couldn’t get out of there soon enough.  I originally reported how smooth everything was in Brazil.  Argentina was even better!  And it involved a reciprocity fee in addition to immigration.  But I can now enter Brazil, Argentina and Chile for the next ten years free of charge!  I won’t be taking advantage of the Brazilian admittance anytime in the near future, if ever.  Might even boycott 2016 Olympics!  🙂

Anyway, Argentina is just lovely!  The people, the food, the sprawling, chic and beautiful ciudad reminded me so much of Paris!  It was amazing.  Blew me away, maybe even more so than Istanbul.  That would be a tough call.  I was blown away, not quite sure why, by all the trees all over the place.  There seemed to be every varietal of tree all within the one city.  Palm trees next to fig trees, next to loads of other types of trees that I don’t know the names of.  I thought certain trees only existed in particular climates, and perhaps that is the case and I’m just a bit daft.  But for whatever reason, the Argentine trees left an impression on me.

I will definitely be taking advantage of my paid reciprocity fee to Argentina.  This portion of my South American trip will be forever close to my heart.

On day two in Argentina, I went jogging, worked, the usual… and was feeling antsy having not seen anything yet in my two days.  I finally put work to rest and just had a quick walk around Recoleta, by the cemetery and vicinity.  Work started to get impatient and I found myself rather far out so I took a taxi to Park Hyatt.  I was kind of discombobulated, more so than my norm, as I entered.  I hear someone call my name.  Mind you, I was sober.  Great minds obviously think alike, it must’ve been about 4:30pm-ish and clearly time for a cocktail.  I kid you not, the illuminating Susie was standing there on the steps calling my name.  Duncan and Susie are old buddies from B&B and used to live in San Fran.  I think they moved home to New Zealand (sadly, though happily for them) before I moved to New York, and I think before LMC Direct’s inception.  What a GRAND surprise!!!  Neither of us could really believe it for a good pause of time!  For me, seeing the Oldes was my best travel surprise to date.

I’m now going to loop you back in on yesterday’s taxi ride to shop and my propitious entrada to the pub.  I had to meet Duncs and Suse for dinner at 9:00pm.  I had four hours to kill, which, along with several brain cells, I did well.  There were four Brits on a ‘boyfriend trip’ at the bar, pissed still from the night before (in the same pub), and we got on well from the get-go.  They pretended to be annoyed that my grey gooses were being served with lemon zest around the edge of my glass and garnished with hearts and flowers.  🙂  Turns out the boys are headed to Rio, same time as me.  Oh man, what a hard night that’s going to be!  (stay tuned!)  They were super funny, but admittedly got me a bit ‘pissed’ with shots and who knows what else.  The boys needed etiquette lessons (sigh… the English) understanding why its NOT okay to call the bartender Pablo even though his name is Ignacio, and some taming down of their desire to play Phil Collins, which, oddly enough, I mentioned him previously being played in the Brazilian taxi.  It was all good fun, but after four hours of Peter, Paul, Paul and Brian (who did NOT get why I told them they needed a Mary in their crew), I showed up to dinner already well juiced up.  Thankfully, I’ve got this hollow leg (yes, the left one) I was blessed with at birth.

Needless to say, I had a hell of a time packing and trekking to the airport today.  And what is up with Excedrin!!?  When will you come back to me!?  It was a rather miserable journey over the snowcapped Andes to Santiago.  But the Ritz is so amazing, they went to the pharmacia to collect la aspirina con cafeina for me!  Now she (me) is back in the saddle again and my Chilean Sea Bass, while in Chile, just arrived!

Buen provecho!  xx

Best travel surprise EVER… from ‘half the world away’ equally

Entrance to Brazil’s claim-to-fame shop: flip flops

I’m ready for the next country!  I did one of those every six month recharger sleeps, where I went 13 hours without really awakening for much longer than a cute text or an email schedule.  That was day two of Sao Paulo.

Today I was ready to take on the world.  Went and found myself a sugar free red bull (an impossible accomplishment in Istanbul), jogged 3 1/2 miles before it got to 97 degrees and discovered the Madison Avenue of Sao Paulo. With a name like Rua Oscar Friere, how could I not know!?  All my favorites were there: Chanel, Dior, Max Mara, Roberto Cavalli, Hagaan Daas and then all the Portuguese/Brazilian designers!  It was def the high rent district which I was beginning to wonder even exists. I guess it does.

But here’s what I learned today about Brazil, it is wicked expensive.  I thought I sensed that on my first jet-lagged, out-the-night-before-I-left daze.  But then yesterday I couldn’t leave my hotel room given the workload and my slumber.  Everything in Brazil is double the price at home, MY home.  It is even more exxy than London.  Clothing, food, accommodation, cocktails, massage (all my usual business expenses) are crazy price.  Which is fine I guess, but then I feel this sort of city-wide arrogance.  Perhaps it is the fact that I didn’t teach myself a lick of Portuguese, but come on, have the Brazilians surpassed the French in snobbery?  Um… yes.

I learned today the Brazilian economy has more than doubled in less than four years.  Or so I was told.  By one of the arrogant but English speaking Brazilians.  No, it’s not that bad.  But there’s an edge.  A chip on the shoulder, just walking by someone.  So it’s not a language thing.  It’s a ‘I’m going to look at you like I’ll kick your ass’ thing.  But not in a drug cartel hostage way, GRAM!  🙂  Not like that at all.

Was a challenge (again) to find a solid dinner tonight.  It’s always that something is closed, or having a private party, or I’m not cool enough… who knows.  It seems to be always something.  And I’m less than impressed with the over-eagerness of my hotel staff, to the point of deadbolt and ‘do NOT disturb’.

So what is all this hype about Havaianas flips!!?  I got all sucked up in it… and am not even clear why!  But “everyone in da club gettin’ Havaianas!  Heyyyy, Ohhh….. must be da money!”.  Apologies to 50 Cent and Nelly who I think I just mixed together.

Off to Argentina tomorrow.  Couldn’t be soon enough.  Thankfully, I have an amazing friend who had me dialed into the finer intricacies of the city, from a local’s standpoint.  I’m quite grateful to experience my salad at Oui Oui in Palermo SoHo. 🙂

Cannot wait!  Am a bit over the Brazilians at this point!!!  City #1 of 4, sigh…

AJ, you’d be proud, I just opened the Pringles.  😀

Sao Paulo’s unimpressive ‘Madison Avenue’

I can only imagine the amount favelas out there

Welcome to South America, Ms. Costello. Sao Paulo, Brazil to be exact.

The more international carriers I fly, the more I come to despise America. Oh wait, I mean US airlines, which is merely one of my American gripes. TAM Airlines exceeded all expectations from beginning to end, and I’d fly it in a heartbeat over United. My clients get so wimpy, usually wanting to stick with their comfort zone (because it sure as hell isn’t more comfortable in the literal sense) and US carriers. Guess that’s what I’m here for! Boarding, food, service, comfortability (one of old Raytheon days words) and communication. Totally legit.

Customs in Sao Paulo, granted its 7:00am on a Sunday, was a breeze. Taxi process, seamless and swift. Traffic não há problema. I couldn’t have planned this better myself! 😉 Although that reminds me I don’t think I timed the rest of my flights at such traffic-convenient times.

Not a lot of English happening so I’m not clear how long this taxi ride will be. Each direction I look, there are loads of tall buildings, but so far nothing NY-like, which is what I’ve been told to expect. I wonder if I’ll have the a-ha! moment, like when coming across the Triborough Bridge.

Phil Collins is on the radio.

I’m quite excited to be here, coming off a trip, a long stream of two sets of NY visitors, and then another quick trip, then a hilarious night with ‘my person’… I feel surprisingly great! I got to sleep in yesterday, pack at leisure, do the necessary salon primping, had just one grey goose (shocker it was NOT a double), then ate chicken salad with blue cheese (yum!) on the plane with a glass of red wine, popped a xanax, and night-night for Lizzie! Slept a full six hours.

This trip will introduce me to three countries and four major cities, all of which I suspect will be fabulous and unique – although I am currently going through some back roads through a bit nicer than a ‘City of God’ slum, oh and apparently a night club that’s still going! Hmm, I will NOT be jogging through this part of town later!

I’m bored with this update, more factual than quirky, funny Liz.

Obrigado Marydis, I couldn’t have got it all done with you, and thanks Boo, for making it way more fun. Love to all. (and yes gram, I will be safe, I promise!)

PS: I think I’m close to my hotel and am not v impressed!

View of Four Seasons from where the taco trucks are!

On a long connecting flight after a long weekend of essentially NOTHING.  I won’t harp on my pitiful loneliness this weekend… too much.  😉  Love you AJ, really… love you.  Mean it.

I’ve been in Austin, Texas since Thursday.  I’m very ready to come home.  On the plane now, though no Little House on the Prairie to bitch about.

Austin is hot!  I managed to get some poolside action, ut just a little.  I am so over the Dallas-day-trippers and their stupid Louis Vuitton bags and pouty attitudes.  Do Texans think they just know everything, or do they think their accents are so overbearing that no one else will challenge it?  Hmmm, I wonder.

The food was good in Austin, and the prices were great!  I found a wine shop yesterday which sells my Domaine Ott Rose for $18, instead of my local $31 on the upper east side.  I ran a lot.  Exercised a lot.  Worked a lot.  Sounds like a fabulous weekend, eh?  Suppose it’s all good given my upcoming visitor and travel schedule.  I have tomorrow to myself, literally.  Between Tuesday and September 30th, I will have two pals in town, four loves (one staying with me), a trip to SF and a two week trip through South America.  Crazy.

I lost the little ear cushion thing to my left earplug… it’s scratchy and now there’s almost no music coming out of it!  Stupid.  😦

I was at the beautiful-ish (for Texas) Four Seasons for the weekend, picture attached.  It was okay.  Food was fabulous, spa treatments just ‘okay’.  I think part of me will forever be in search of an equivalent experience to the hammam (Turkish Bath). The Texans are SO prudish!  At least the ones at Four Seasons Austin!  Push the towel down a little, for f sake!!!  Seriously, she moved the towel down to MAYBE my collar bone.  That doesn’t quite do it for my 190 minutes of supposed ‘Texan Bliss’.  I’m becoming quite the opposite of modest.  A little curious about what Brazilian, Chilean and Argentinean spa treatments will be like!!!

Anyway, I’m actually starting to look forward to my crazy schedule.  A beloved client has begun aggressively using my meeting planning services, and paying me well (I think well, but really… it’s ‘at all or ‘fair’) for it.  I like the diversity in my day-to-day.  Plus, I’ve got really fun visitors coming my way!  Then SF, if nothing more but to spend a little time with my bestie (and perhaps an impromptu Kelly-visit)… then it’s off to Sao Paulo, Buenos Aires, Santiago and Rio I go!  Reading “Born In Blood and Fire – A Concise History of Latin America”, in preparation.  Do not want to be dumbfounded by ordinary questions like I have been in other countries recently.  SoCal education truly rocks!  😉  Plus I’m trying to do a lesson a day (or two, or three) of French in prep for Cannes!

I have the weirdest flying experiences.  Anyone I know well can attest.  I’ve met some of my best clients and friends right here at 36,000 feet.  I’m flying coach (boo!) and last time I did, had a bizarro time with this exuberant first class flight attendant making me incognito vodkas.  I’m in coach now, bulkhead aisle seat, and have just been given a free red wine.  I swear I do NOT even ask for this stuff!  I must have a face that screams ‘feed me booze’.  Haha.

Love ‘ya’ll’.  So happy to be out of Texas!  Does anyone listen to Flight of Concords or Lonely Island?  “bitch acted like she never seen a $10 before… it’s all about the Hamiltons, baby.”  Love that.  It’s no diapered lemon, but close.  🙂

Hope Hurricane Isaac is not harmful to anyone.  Eh, and if it puts a wrench in the republican convention then so be it!  Sometimes being thrown a wrench, and managing through, is a good thing in the long run.  xoxo

I hope my nieces and nephews know how much I love them and how often think of them.

The infamous vodka fresh off the boat from Russia!

Though, I am no Nicholas Cage.  I have to say, I’m quite happy to be on my way HOME to my beloved.  My beloved being NYC, of course.  Not so happy to realize I’m only there for a few days before heading to Austin, Texas… but I’m not complaining.  !!&@$-/;(  Really.

Currently, I am 30k feet above middle America, watching Little House on the Prairie.  Seriously, I have not watched this show (or TV for that matter, aside from Chelsea Handler and 30 Rock) in forever.  When was the last time any of you watched Little House on the Prairie?  That Olsen family is a freaking piece of work!  What assholes!  Pompous.  I think I grew up watching this show, though, but like much else of my young childhood, I don’t really remember.  I have to say I’m a bit impressed with little miss Laura Engle.  Nellie and her mom are douche bags, with their ‘feather hats flown in from France’.  Mary, she is such a peace keeper, so even keeled, though she does need a backbone.  Willie is a little jerk-off.

Attached is a picture of Russian vodka.  It’s the only picture I took in my week’s fill of Las Vegas.  I was attending a conference, first time, for a luxury travel brand, of which I am an affiliate.  I’ll get to those details in a bit.

So I arrived Hell Vegas on Sunday afternoon, completely ignorant of what lay ahead of me.  Unrelated to this Vegas mayhem, I was managing four board meetings, for clients, in Chicago and New York.  Wrapped up a four-day meeting in San Fran last week, and negotiating for one next week is Paris.  Plus day-to-day LMC work.  Thursday was a French bank holiday.  My threatening French phone calls did me no good (unlike my successful “nous avons deux gris goose martinis avec olives, s’il vous plait, merci” with my AJ at Le Meurice last November).  [side note to AJ- ‘our’ bartender at 228 was promoted to sales and said to say hi!  Oy!]  The Virtuoso conference’s structure is that us travel agents (~5k) sit at a small table within the Bellagio’s massive conference facility, and we have 82 four-minute ‘appointments’ each day.  Speed dating for travel.  It was intense.  For me, part of the tension was having to associate myself with travel agents and their pathetic stigma, which I do not consider myself within the same caste.

Wait, wait… I’m off topic from the vodka!  Perhaps it’s due to my third in-flight vodka now!  Despite my intense workload and lack of spare time, I went to a restaurant on Sunday afternoon for a late lunch/early dinner at Todd English’s Olives.  I heard some people to my right talking about Pittsburgh, which I LOVE.  So I inserted myself into this couple’s conversation and made friends.  This guy apparently flies choppers for one of my favorite client’s assets, and CBS Pittsburgh… amongst other things.  Long story short (ha), it was my Louboutin’s that roped him in and we met on my night two with his ‘friend’ and he was like short-man-syndrome-guy with two hot babes in their red-bottomed heels.  Kept insisting on the $25 1/2 shots of vodka fresh off the boat from Russia.  This was after an intensely long day of those 4-minute appointments, so I was tired and needed to manage my business, those board meetings, marketing and schmooze time with the CEO of my host agency, whom I have known since I was 19 years old, so I was ‘relatively’ well-behaved.  To bed super early and up really early for Paris and NYC.

Anyway, Vegas is classless, travel agents can be tacky and four days of that crap was trying.  Again, consider the other elements of LMC Direct Executive Travel & Events that must coexist.  I was invited to a night-time event and whilst it was great to meet with my pals from the Maybourne hotels in London, my biggest take-away from that night was an Israeli stalker, who tried to lean in to kiss me (gack) and sort of spit when he talked.  I freaked out and bailed.  He stalked me the next three days.  Incessant phone calls, emails, messages on my hotel room voice mail!!!  Yeah, I was in Israel last year and his 60+ year old aggressive advances reminded me of what I disliked about the country.

On a positive note, I was so fortunate to spend a huge amount of time with my agency’s CEO, who simply adores me.  Now.  🙂  He didn’t adore me so much back in my day.  But I was able to enjoy a fair amount of time with he and his fabulous wife all week.  I learned (as I was also informed while visiting with them in Scottsdale in June), that they wanted to nominate me for an award, as a ‘rising star’, representing their agency, for Virtuoso.  But, I’m not so compliant with the online bullshit Virtuoso requires, or even compliant in general and therefore they did not pursue it.  Plus this was my first show.  Instead, they had me invited to a very elite luxury travel meeting in Cannes this December.  Anyone who knows me knows that I believe things work out for a reason.  Last night I fell in love with the CEO’s wife, learned that he has the same freakish attention to astrology signs (not horoscopes) as I do.  Besides, had I been nominated, I would have had to endure a process, much like the Oscars or Golden Globes, where they reveal a winner of five nominated, at the gala, ON TV!!!  Um.  I would have freaked out.  I do NOT do well when put in the spotlight and suffer from severe stage fright… until I don’t (i.e., lots of grey goose).

Last night, after the gala awards dinner, and after the agency CEO and LMC love-fest, plus the group Vueve toast… we went to the after-party.  Fantastic.  Great schmooze time and great conversations from potential mentors… but it was getting late and it was my last night.  I wanted to play craps!!!  I have a limited tolerance for gambling, but my incredible friend (who I will forever consider my BFF) taught me the intuition and the right way to play craps, many years ago.  Besides, I’m a chick, I can hold my old… in a miniskirt and 4 inch heels… I know how to make the table fun.  All I know (after a LONG crazy week) is that I started with $280 cash.  I played for probably 1 1/2 hour, only threw down $100… but this morning, I awoke to discover 5 Benny’s + !!!  I think I made like $300 off $100!  Or turned $100 into $400.  Something like that.  Super fun.  Knowing when to quit is a good, solid trait!

This Little House on the Prairie is irritating me.  What the F is wrong with Ginny’s mom, she is such a bitch!!!  Loosen up FFS!  Although Mrs. Olsen probably takes the cake.  Wow, been a long time, kudos to United for having free DirectTV in first class.

Anyway, love to you all.  Can’t WAIT to BE home.  A bit bummed I have to leave again Thursday.  Oh!  I provided my neighborhood Le Steak with a whole new ‘playlist’… courtesy of my auntie and Billy boy (happy anniversary!) introducing me to Pink Martini.  PS: you created a monster!

Next week, moi coeur arrives in NYC and I am so excited.  Follmers rock it like no other, and Siegel chicks are the BEST ever!

In my beloved Central Park

I think I said before, “I’m becoming a cliche”.  Typically I write from places other than my home.  But today I am loving New York City, my home.

Not sure if you can tell what the picture is of.  It’s the pathway inside Central Park, coming in on the backside of the famous fountain on 72nd.  I’m currently three blocks from home, and today, as it often does, it struck me how awesome it is.

In the gorgeous 81 degree weather, I worked all morning, answered as many email (still doing good on that front now even!) as I could, put on the lululemon (one mist fit in a little on the upper east) and walked past Lexington Ave, got a red bull, walked past a friend’s house, then Madison Avenue and all the fancy upper east side shoppers, got into the park, ran three miles… and just decided to chill… to actually BE one of those people on the benches.  I see them sitting every day I run by.  I think most of them are tourists.  They have maps of the park.  Whereas I no longer need one.  🙂  But I remember when I did!

I’m watching the caricature guy.  He’s bored.  I think I’m going to scoot over and say hi.  Ask him how business is today.  As I write, I look down at the fountain, a married couple are having their photo shoot.  Or who knows, maybe it’s for a magazine.  People are boating outside the Boathouse.  People are taking pictures.  People are pushing strollers.

So how many are tourists?  How many are artists?  How many are unemployed?  How many are wives of wealthy bankers?  How many run their own small business.  Like the caricature guy or the guys pulling the pedi-bikes.  Interesting to think which category I fall into.  🙂  Although I’m about ready to piss someone off, because a couple just came and sat next to me, speaking a foreign language, started totally macking and then lit up a cig!  You can’t smoke inside the park anymore!!!  Love that I finally got to that place with cigs!  🙂  It’s funny (not in the comical sense) to watch what people take pictures of, or want their picture taken with.  Like the ducks just across from me.

Anyway, it’s just amazing to live where I live, take care of myself as well as I do, and travel to fabulous places.  Then on an otherwise mundane Thursday, ditch my apartment and work for a ‘lunch break’ jog through Central Park.  New Yorker for life!  Even if I am a dual-meaning DS.  Ha.

Now something just f’ing bit me, on my wrist right next to my heart tattoo… while I got a work call I had to take, for a whole new project.  Shock: he wants to know today.  But I’m sending him to the Ritz Cancun, so I know I can’t go wrong!

And I just got a ‘hi’ text from my Turkish friend (not allowed to comment, Jacs!).  While sitting on Helen Faith Keane Reichert of 1901’s bench.  These benches aren’t really that comfortable when you sit here as long as it took me to write this.  My ass hurts.  Time to move.  And go back to work, break is over!

Oh, and of you’ve read this far… that one Bob Dylan song I was telling a couple girlfriends about  🙂  probably isn’t fitting.  But this is the only instance in which you will EVER hear me say that.  I can edit it though.  Do a Liz-remix of it?  Come on… isn’t that all Adele does anyway!?

Unbeatable beach, hotel, service, cuisine and pure luxury at the Ritz

Help me, i’m turning into a cliche… and quoting Ricky Martin.  Maybe it’s the tequila…

Seriously though (and currently sober, for now)… I have been under-rating and underestimating Cancun ALL these years!  I’ve always headed south to what is now referred to as Riviera Maya.  I was in ‘Riviera Maya’ a couple years ago and the beaches had browner, dirtier sand.

This beach, albeit a bit windy with some serious waves and undertow, is gorgeous!  White grainy sand that doesn’t burn your toes even though it’s 87 degrees.  Love that.  And the water is THE perfect temp as well.  The red flags are up but I’ve confirmed it’s only due to the rough seas and there are no scary creatures lying beneath its surface ready to pull me under with it’s tentacles.

On my immortal quest to keep up the tan, I was recently in Nevis.  I’ll be frank.  The food sucked.  And was expensive.  But who would have realized how much this New Yorker misses that Mexican food!  I guess you can’t take the SoCal out of the girl completely.  The food here at the Ritz is amazing!  Just had quesadilla con camerones and they rival, if not blow doors on that of my beloved Beachside in Goleta, ‘The Good Land’.

It’s kind of perfect here.  Only seldom does a beach vendor go by and it’s beautiful with the white sand and what are those guys in the background of this photo doing… wind surfing?  They’re good!  It’s been fun and funny how much I remember Spanish from my various Mexican excursions.  However I do find myself always ending things with s’il vous plait instead of por favor.  Or saying oui instead of si.  “Y habla espanol un paquito, en englais… s’il vous plait”.  Nice.  But also very Liz-like.  🙂

I just learned I had my best month, in terms of revenue, in May.  It’s so rewarding and fabulous to realize I’ve been doing this over three years.  Equally amazing and prevalent on my mind most recently, is how beneficial ALL my past trips have been.  Most of you know me well… and I think it’s safe to say, I have a tendency to act on impulse.  Every one of those trips has in one way or another revealed some, if not many, benefits for my business.  The requests I get keep rolling in, from further away and all hours of the night.  And mostly, I have some sort of experience enough to answer straight away.  Wherever or whatever it may be.  It’s a weird feeling to feel like you can speak to almost anywhere.  Very cool.

That’s why I suppose I feel entitled to move my office out of my apartment from time to time and enjoy this crazy, but good life I’ve built.  Even though I work all day into the night and spend ridiculous amounts on roaming charges…

This is MY version of ‘The Way’.

The Way is a movie with Martin Sheen and Emilio Estevez that was recently released on DVD (yes… Jacs… tears well up just TYPING that… so weird).  I loved it.  And my dear friend actually tweeted a Liz “pay-it-forward” moment with Emilio himself, with regard to the movie.  Highly recommend.  Be sure the Kleenex are nearby.  I have no doubt the movie will affect (god or is it effect!?) each of you in some way.

See, I am a cliche: “you don’t choose your life, you live it”.

Time for a quick dip in the ocean, a tequilla and I suppose I must read at least one of the seventeen email that came in as I typed this.  So cool: a guy just walked by selling cigars and I quickly (and honestly) said “no gracias, no fumar…” amazing what this mind retains!

Watching the paragliding sailors – or whatever they call themselves!