Two years ago, Hania and I were in Washington the weekend of the White House Correspondents’ Dinner, staying in a hotel a few blocks from the Hilton. The night of the dinner we took a stroll and I was surprised by two things.
The first was what seemed then to be excessively heavy security. Connecticut Avenue was closed to traffic north of Dupont Circle, and police cars were parked in the street around the hotel, blocking not only cars but pedestrians.
The other surprising thing was the number of people walking around in formal dress. Journalists not invited to the dinner gathered for parties (Politico was having one on the ground floor of our hotel) and dinners in neighborhood restaurants. Peering through windows, I saw tables filled with women in sleeveless gowns and men in black tie. It looked like Hollywood the night of the Academy Awards except that, instead of after-parties, these were during-parties.
On our way to Key West last week we spent two nights in Islamorada, timing our visit to coincide with the monthly Morada Way Art Walk, which I had stumbled upon in 2018 while researching a story about recovery after Hurricane Irma. It is a lovely event: booths selling baked goods, jewelry, and art; people strolling with children and dogs; musicians stationed at various points. Getting off the main street, we passed under shade trees to find cottage galleries, including that of Taylor Hale, a talented local artist whose paintings of sea and clouds – those spectacular Florida skyscapes – filled the walls. The path led us to the beer garden of the Florida Keys Brewing Co., where I bought an IPA and then ordered fish tacos from the neighboring food truck. The tacos were delivered to our picnic table a few minutes later. They went beautifully with my beer.
Today is Dyngus Day in Buffalo, NY - a celebration that contains elements of St. Patrick's Day, Oktoberfest, and Mardi Gras - while being firmly rooted in Poland. I was there last year for it and wrote a story that is now up on the website of The Timbuktu Review.
Phil Rosenthal was at the Fort Lauderdale Travel & Adventure Show on Saturday and he came across just as he does on his show, Somebody Feed Phil: warm, wide-eyed, joyful. He steered clear of politics, though, in reference to the border, he said that, instead of a wall, we should build a table. He gave a little insight into the show, mentioning that he doesn’t eat until the scenes of him eating, a situation similar, he said, to dogs in commercials. Somebody asked him if the show was going to be renewed for another season, and he said he didn’t know. He added that network executives don’t just look at ratings; they consider shows that people binge watch. So he suggested that everyone go home that evening, tune in to his show on Amsterdam – the first in the series – and just leave it on through the night. “You don’t have to watch it,” he said. “Just let it run all the way through.”
The Fort Lauderdale Greek Festival begins today and runs through the abnormally chilly weekend, which could put a damper on the festivities. Most people associate the festival – and the country – with warmth, though for me it will bring back memories of the winter a spent teaching English in the northern city of Arta.
My rented room, in an unheated stone house, was so frigid I could see my breath. I used it only for sleeping, and passed every evening at a café, writing and nursing a glass of ouzo. I learned very little Greek, and had a boss who, because of his minimal English, rarely spoke to me. The first day of class, my students gasped when I wrote my name on the blackboard: They had never been taught by anyone left-handed. All the cafes in town were off-limits to women. I had arrived from six months in Poland, a country stuck behind the Iron Curtain that seemed much more modern and progressive than Greece. But somehow I retain fond memories of the country: the music, the dances, the food, the ouzo, the quiet appreciation of life’s small pleasures.
On the New York Times list of “Places to Go in 2026,” Revolutionary America is #1 and Warsaw is #2. I generally pay little attention to such lists, but the recognition of Poland’s capital – so often overshadowed by Krakow – is well-deserved and personally satisfying. I have been writing about Warsaw since the late ’70s, when it was a little-visited capital behind the Iron Curtain, and I have delighted in seeing its evolution into a world-class city. In 2011 I wrote about its resurgence for National Geographic Traveler (yes, the New York Times is a little late to the party) and the story appears in my book The Joys of Travel. It is completely different from the story the magazine published, which is a story unto itself, one that – now that Warsaw’s in the spotlight – I might try to publish.