The quaint, Mediterranean-style hotel sits quietly along the oceanfront row of anonymous high-rises and tired strip malls in the sleepy community of Jacksonville Beach, an anomaly amidst the sprawl of urban blight, a throwback to simpler times when men wore suits to go fishing and drove their Model T Fords right up to the water’s edge.

The hotel originally opened its doors to the public in 1925 to much fanfare and regale; the town, formerly known as Ruby, was considered the vacation hotspot and welcomed the likes of Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, Jean Harlow, John D. Rockefeller, and the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. And as you walk through the main entrance, you get the distinct feeling that they are still there: an understated, easy elegance and casual sophistication permeates the air. History undoubtedly surrounds you, yet the hotel is not caught in the past.

The ambiance and location—literally steps away from the sand—serve as the scenic backdrop for morning yoga on the beach, an evening sunset stroll, or a fabled wedding ceremony. Casa Marina holds the distinct honor of being voted top wedding venue by blushing brides in The Knot’s Best Of Weddings 2010, a respected industry guide for brides-to-be.

“There is no higher honor than being viewed as ‘one of the best’ by the guests who chose us to host one of the most important days of their lives,” said general manager, Mark Vanderloo. “We take great pride in setting a new standard for individual service and attention to detail.”

The spacious, art-deco suite that was my temporary respite offered a partial view of the ocean and pier and had recently been refurbished with new flooring, boutique fixtures and furniture, and a mini chandelier in the hallway. The convenience of the suite’s separate sitting area, complete with a mini-fridge, roomy couch, chair and TV, allowed for privacy from the main bedroom. Because Casa Marina is small—there are only 25 rooms in the entire hotel—it’s the ideal getaway from the noisy, stifling summer crowds of typical resort chains.

By far, the hotel’s signature spot is the rooftop Penthouse Lounge with sweeping ocean views and intoxicating salt-scented breezes. (Leaning over the balcony with the wind kissing my hair, I felt like Kate Winslet in Titanic, sans the sinking boat and DiCaprio side-kick.) It’s a taste of Miami Beach and a trendy hot spot for young professionals looking to kick back after work, grab some tapas, and indulge in martinis big enough to swim in; the drink list is longer than a phone call from your mother-in-law.

Weather permitting, opt for plein air dining in the courtyard, and listen (and dance with the maitre d’, Sterling) to jammin’ cover tunes performed by The Johnston Duo (Wednesdays at 6:30; also Tuesdays in The Penthouse). It’s a great place for a casual dinner date, and while the prices are a bit high ($27.95 for rack of lamb), expect generous portions, impeccably prepared food (best goat cheese salad, hands down), and prompt, attentive service- a perfect night out.

Rooftop and beach photos courtesy of Leigh Cort, Leigh Cort Publicity.

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During the days when we actually used the USPS to mail letters and called people on phones attached to cords, I walked into a Roy Rogers restaurant on a high school dare and ordered a Trigger burger with extra Horsey Sauce. I was promptly greeted by the manager and escorted out of the establishment.

Call it karma, but ever since then, I’ve had this sinking feeling that every horse across America knew who I was and wanted me dead or at least limping, as if stalls around the country had been papered with APB alerts highlighting my mug shot with the caption, “Wanted: Dead or alive for aggravated verbal assault on a fellow brother. Stomp to kill.”

I had a chance to make my horse amends on a dude ranch press trip at Latigo Ranch (pronounced LAT-ah-go) in Kremmling, Colorado, nestled in the majestic landscape of the Arapaho National Forest at a staggering 9,000 feet. It was there that I came face to face with my feared equine nemesis, Candy, a gentle black mare with soft eyes and a quiet spirit.  She seemed to know of my torrid past and yet forgave me with a simple switch of her tail. A tacit bond was formed. She’s now on my Christmas card list and we e-mail at least twice a week.

Latigo Ranch is where I honed my beginner riding skills and overcame my paralyzing fear of falling off a horse. (I didn’t fall off, due in large part to prayer and the excellent tutelage from Rachel the kick-ass Wrangler who actually wore spurs and had a lasso burn on her neck. I didn’t press for details. She kinda scared me.) Rachel walked me through the proper way of holding the reins (dominant hand, gripping it like an ice cream cone), how the bits work (the device put in the horse’s mouth to signal direction and command), then took me on a spectacular trail ride through parts of the Arapaho Forest, wending our way past stately Aspen trees and postcard views of the Continental Divide.

There is just something indescribably magic about being out on a horse in the untapped wilderness, a purity and stillness I came to respect and appreciate. I get why people ride.

Co-owners Jim and Kathie Yost and Randy and Lisa George have a knack for anticipating their guests’ needs in every way, a wanted luxury that is more a rarity these days in anything travel. The in-room fridge is stocked with complimentary soft drinks; free use of the laundry facilities; loaner boots and Sigg water bottles for riding at no additional cost. And the “nouveau ranch” gourmet cuisine by Randy and Lisa was some of the best food I’ve ever tasted (three extra pounds is proof). I had never seen a stack of branded pancakes before in my life. They put IHOP to shame.

One of the highlights of the trip was the branding session on the last night of our stay. We got to design our own logo and brand it into the wall to leave a permanent mark on Latigo. The entire kitchen area’s walls are filled with unique, cryptic-looking insignias, a mural of cowboy hieroglyphics. Repeat visitors get to re-mark their original brand with a small dot to signify another trip—one family’s brand had 10 dots around their logo. I also branded my cowboy hat and some guests branded their boots. It’s that kind of a dude ranch: you’re at home as a guest, and by the end of the trip, it’s a hard place to leave.

This fall, Latigo is holding a fall cattle round-up in the third week of September for the more experienced horse rider, one whose bum can withstand five to eight hours in a saddle to help local cattle ranchers gather their herd. There’s also an adults-only week from September 12-18, and the discounted rate season runs from August 22 through September 18. Happy trails!

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Suffering from equinophobia (fear of horses), I knew I had to take on this dude ranch assignment.

The fear was unbased and a bit irrational: I never got thrown off a horse, had never even been on a horse, actually, but I had heard stories — Uncle Charlie got kicked in the head by Trigger and was just never the same since; the neighbor’s little girl broke her arm during a pony trail ride.

Stories, all ending in not-so-favorable results. Combine that with acrophobia (fear of heights), and horse riding was buried at the bottom of my “To Do” list.

I arrived at Drowsy Water Ranch (altitude 8,200 feet) in Granby, Colorado, nestled on 640 acres of wooded backcountry near the Arapaho National Forest, with my head spinning from the lack of oxygen and a full-blown migraine brewing at the base of my neck.

I was cordially met by co-owner Gretta, decked out in her cowgirl best (bandana, checkered shirt, denim skirt and boots) as she walked me, the token City Slicker (flowery scarf, sweater, chino pants and open-toed sandals) to my no-frills cabin. It was clean, comfortable, and spacious—the cabin was big enough to sleep a family of six—and had a real wood-burning fireplace in the main living room that I actually used on a chilly June night.

Make sure to stop in downtown Granby on the way for sodas or adult beverages to stock the in-room mini-fridge; beverage choices at the ranch are limited to water, lemonade and iced tea.

The main activity is obviously riding—morning and afternoon trail rides—as well as instruction in the main arena, all led by experienced wranglers whose instruction runs the gamut from teaching first-time riders how to mount a horse to cattle round-ups with seasoned cowboys.  By far, the most memorable trail ride was riding the meandering mountain path through fragrant sage brush that opened to a stunning vista of the Continental Divide beneath an endless ceiling of Colorado sky.

By the end of the week’s riding program, even first-time riders will be confident enough to go from trotting their horse (two-beat gait) to loping (a faster, three-beat gait). I was loping by Day 3 with some fear and no real injuries, save a broken crotch and very tired legs.

(Bring lots of Aleve and soak in the on-site hot tub.) It’s also a good idea to pack your own riding boots (rental boots are available at the ranch for a fee), cowboy hat, durable rain gear, and light-weight, layerable clothing that can get dirty. And don’t forget the sunscreen.

Non-riders can choose from a variety of activities such as river rafting down the Colorado (price included in rate fee), fishing (fly-casting instruction is available), swimming in the heated pool, golfing at nearby courses, guided hikes on nearby trails, hayrides, old-fashioned hoedowns, or just sitting on the cabin porch with a good book.

Eating is also sport here: When we weren’t riding, we were at the feeding trough (dining hall), feasting on copious amounts of home-cooked meals.

Drowsy Water Ranch is a great, all-inclusive travel deal for any family or group of friends looking for a unique, rough-n-tumble vacation to get away from the noise of life—there are no TVs and cell reception is limited (Yee-hah!).

The owners—Ken, Randy Sue, Justin, Gretta and Ryan Fosha—have been running the ranch for more than 30 years and pride themselves on running an affordable dude ranch experience that’s laid-back, fun and family-friendly.  So, happy trails, partner…see you at the ranch.

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CityCenter in Vegas. Photo by Gayle McCarthy

Tired of walking past illegal immigrants slapping cards of naked girls in your face while perambulating The Strip? If not, I fear and weep for your future. No doubt, the allure of Vegas will always remain a touch seedy and a bit sad (think Nicolas Cage’s character in Leaving Las Vegas), but it’s revamping its image with the new CityCenter complex, a 67-acre glitzy showcase of patterned glass, lofty sky-scrapers at odd angles with sweeping curves—a mini Manhattan amidst the desert landscape. It’s home to several stately hotels, such as the Mandarin Oriental, Aria Resort and Vdara Hotel & Spa, and the Über-swank Crystals shopping center with elite retailers Versace, Prada, Tiffany & Co. and Louis Vuitton. Cha-ching.

The Vdara spa. Photo by MGM Mirage.

Beat the heat in the cool confines of Vdara’s Health & Beauty spa (non-guests are welcome), an 18,000-square-foot, two-level respite of holistic healthcare and wellness featuring 11 private treatment rooms, intimate lounges with soaking tubs and soothing circular waterfalls, redwood saunas and eucalyptus steam rooms, and men’s and women’s retreats. Guests can treat themselves to a glass of bubbly or wine upon entering the lobby at the Champagne Bar or make themselves a fresh cup of herbal tea in the upstairs retreat areas. Spa menu options include massages (deep tissue, hot stone, couples, among others); body treatments (espresso mud body scrub and lemon verbena body polish); and skin care services (anti-aging facial, sun repair, and moisture replenishment facial). It’s a tad pricey ($150 for deep tissue massage) but well worth the indulgence, especially if Lady Luck’s on your side.

The Town Square Las Vegas. Photo by Town Square Las Vegas

Just a short cab drive away from CityCenter is Sin City’s new Town Square Las Vegas, a one-stop shopping, dining and entertainment complex located on the south end of the Strip on Las Vegas Boulevard, just a few miles south of Mandalay Bay. It’s a breath of fresh air for Vegas, literally—the open air center features 22 buildings detailing a unique mixture of Old World and contemporary architectural styles with an eclectic mix of retail shops and restaurants, including a Whole Foods Market, H&M, an Apple store, and an 18-screen movie theater. There’s everything from coal-fired pizza to Japanese, Mexican food to deli fare; if you prefer Italian, a “don’t miss” dining experience is the affordably-priced Brio Tuscan Grille designed in upscale Tuscan villa décor, offering up generous portions of original Tuscan culinary creations. Choose from an extensive menu of house-made pasta specials, flatbreads, quality steaks (the artichoke-crusted beef medallions were, in haute culinary terms, incredibly tasty), and pair your meal with the perfect red or white wine.

On my way back to The Strip, I asked the cabbie what he thought of the glitz and glam of CityCenter. “It’s from a different time, a different mind-set…I don’t think it knows who or what it wants to be just yet, but it’ll get there.”

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As we were ascending the stairs and oxygen became a quick-fading luxury, my legs went numb, my vision went hazy and my heart went into tachycardia. I woke to my father’s screaming face and a hot dog vendor offering me a free wienie and a Coke. The Yankees lost. Good times.

Gayle gets ready to launch over St. Kitts. Photo by Lisa Overman

My second? Ziplining in St. Kitts with Sky Safari.

I stood on the platform, overlooking the rainforest below, my hands sweaty and shaking as I grasped the T-bar for dear life, reminding myself to take in whatever shallow sips of oxygen I could manage as my body broke into a torrential cold sweat.

If it’s really my time to go, I thought, let’s hope at least my corpse photographs well. Finally, a moment of clarity: If Carson Daly can have his own show, then dammit, I can do this.

That was all I needed. I stepped off the platform. Before I could even force an expletive out of my cotton mouth, the intense thrill of pure adrenaline mixed with the unbridled freedom of flying through the air made me forget that I was truly terrified. I wanted more. I was hooked.

Our group of travel writers, on a press trip sponsored by the St. Kitts Marriott Resort & Royal Beach Casino, was treated to the ultimate zipline Full Tour,  a 5-line experience that starts off with an introductory practice run called the “Monkey Trainer,” a short, 140-foot line that got us all acclimated to the feel of ziplining; next up, “The Boss,” the longest run at 1,350 feet andprobably the most spectacular—you soar 250 feet  above the lush canopy of rainforest below with a breathtaking view of the ocean nearby; the third run, the thousand-foot “Mango Tango;” then the 900-foot “Brimstone Blast;” and lastly, the 500-foot “River Rocker,” a dual-line system where you race side by side with an opponent.

Other tours offered by Sky Safari include the Three-line Half Tour and the Three-line Tour with River Walk.

The staff at Sky Safari was meticulous about going over each safety procedure, explaining all the equipment before strapping us in (helmet, harness, carabiner clips, the t-bar trolley) and how to brake (you don’t actually brake; you come to the end of the line and a system of catch-blocks absorbs most of the impact). The instructors made ziplining look effortless as they sailed upside down over the rainforest while snacking on mangos, and it pretty much is, once you get up enough courage to just step off the platform.

Remember, fear-of-heighters—you can do this. Just think Carson Daly.

(All photos by Gayle McCarthy unless otherwise noted.)

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But the call of the Caribbean is strong, life is short, and the pachyderm pills were kicking in, so I figured, Ahoy! Let’s do this.

Plus, it was a press trip, and peer pressure from a feral group of near-homeless travel writers is truly a bitch.

So, under the trusted commandeering of boat captain Damian Poujade, we removed our shoes and hopped aboard Leeward Islands Charters’ Spirit of St. Kitts, a majestic 78-foot catamaran and the biggest in their fleet.

The professional service and hospitality of the staff was second to none, and it’s no secret that these guys love what they do— deck hand Denzel “Yardie” Duncan dazzled us with an impromptu dance with effortless finesse against the backdrop of the open seas—and quite possibly have the world’s best job.

After we docked, we headed back to the island’s foremost hotel and our temporary home, the St.Kitts Marriott Resort and Royal Beach Casino, known for its unparalleled customer service and endless amenities, including:

three pools with swim-up bar,

unfettered beachfront access,

a world-class casino, and

a premier, 18-hole championship golf course.

For dinner, we sat under the stars with a steel drum band playing in the background. Happy endings, anyone?

So when it’s my time to buy the farm, I’d like to find myself sailing the cerulean Caribbean waters on a catamaran with an ice-cold Ting in hand, listening to soul-soothing reggae while watching the rolling hills of St. Kitts slowly amble past as the bloodshot sun quietly closes the day… heaven, or something close to it.

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“Come meet Wilbur the giant pig at Reggae Beach!” I doubted his existence; surely he was just some fancied imaginary version of a St. Kitts’ Snuffleupagus.

And then I saw him. Holy B.L.T., I thought, that’s a huge pig.

Slumbering like a porcine prima donna beneath the shade of a ramshackle hut, swathed deep in the sand and snoring like a pro wrestler fighting a losing battle with sleep apnea, lay the infamous Wilbur with enough body mass to feed the entire 69-mile island ten times over.

Wilbur, born a mere pink piglet in 2002, has blossomed into an 800-pound pork star and is, by far, the featured tourist attraction at the Reggae Beach Bar & Grill.

This laid-back rasta haunt, at Cockleshell Bay in the southeast peninsula , is just a short drive away from the Marriott and roughly nine miles from bustling downtown Basseterre. At Reggae Beach Bar, locals (called “Kittitians”), and tourists alike mix and mingle while bellying up to the bar for a refreshing Ting or an ice-cold bottle of Carib (www.caribbeer.com), the island’s (and the islanders would argue the world’s) best beer.

Wilbur’s diet consists of only fresh, made-to-order meals; after he dines, he makes the short waddle down to the water for a quick, mid-afternoon swim, and then it’s back to bed in his shaded, sandy sanctuary for another snore-tastic nap. He doesn’t mind the attention from all his admiring fans and will let you photograph him without a fight…but no autographs, please.

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An undercover investigation posted on MaxaBlog.com revealed some unthinkable and highly unsanitary acts with the in-room drinking glasses. Reporters posing as guests checked into three different hotels in the Cobb County, Georgia area, including the Embassy Suites, Holiday Inn, and Sheraton Suites—all respectable hotels in their own right. They then set up hidden cameras near the bathroom sinks (typically where you’d find drinking glasses) in each room to capture the cleaning rituals of the housekeepers. What they found was beyond disgusting.

None of the housekeepers in the three hotels replaced any of the used, dirty glasses with sanitized ones. In order to save time, the housekeepers simply rinsed the glasses out with tap water from the still-dirty sink, or just sprayed a blue, Windex-type liquid whose bottle clearly read “DO NOT DRINK” into the glass and simply wiped it down with a cloth. If that’s not stomach-churning enough, try watching the housekeeper go from scrubbing the toilet with her gloves on to rinsing out your drinking glasses while wearing the same gross gloves. Bottoms up!

Due to these negligent housekeeping practices, hotel guests run the risk of getting infected with various bacterial infections including E-coli, salmonella, hepatitis, and various staph infections, including the deadly MRSA—not something you want to come down with the night before a big presentation or while relaxing on vacation.

When presented with the video evidence, the hotels in question either denied comment or insisted that what was caught on tape was not standard practice (although the particular Holiday Inn under investigation soon switched all drinking glasses to individually wrapped, single-use plastic cups for each room).

So, what to do? Put down the glass and enjoy your beverage straight from the bottle or can. Another option? Pack your own plastic tumbler or bring (or buy) several small, disposable drinking cups. If you must have a glass for said beverage, run down to the hotel’s bar or restaurant and ask to borrow a few—tell them the manager sent you. Too lazy to leave the room? A “last-resort” option is to wash the in-room glasses yourself under hot tap water using a soapy shampoo and a face cloth. Granted, it’s not the same as running them through a sanitizing dishwasher, but the glasses will be much cleaner than what was left for you.

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But other than Joe Biden not nearly enough people use them because they have cars. But really, trains are a great way to travel if you can stick to a schedule — the one thing most Americans have trouble adjusting to.

Amtrak hopes it can curry the favor of a few more passengers by offering free wifi to on its Acela Express, according to Wired.

The move comes as just about every other piece of transportation offers wifi. You can already find it on airplanes, buses and personal cars can even connect to the internet, so it makes sense a train should to.

Now, if they can figure out how to keep the battery on the lap top used to access the Internet charged, Amtrak would really be onto to something. Perhaps a some sort of double pronged device or “outlet” of some sort that allows a cord from the computer to “plug” into it and keep “electricity” flowing to the computer.

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That’s certainly the combination at the Las Vegas CityCenter — the multi billion dollar complex in Sin City that’s so big it couldn’t even afford a space between the two words by the time it was finished.

Now, you can eat, then boogie, under the same roof with the New Year’s Eve opening of the Eva Longoria Parker’s Beso and Eve.

No, they’re not new neighbors on Wisteria Lane, they are the restaurant and nightclub at the CityCenter’s Crystals.

“I am thrilled to be expanding my restaurant franchise and cannot think of a more perfect location,” Longoria Parker said in a news release. 

Headed by Chef Todd English — the same chef who oversaw Beso in Hollywood — the Las Vegas version can seat 246 people — 107 outside. While the English may not be known for their culinary delights, this particular English is — with his work at places like Olives and Figs.

Eve, the nightclub, is right upstairs and features a 50-foot vaulted ceiling and a huge video screen near the dance floor. The 8000-square-foot club features VIP bottle service, premium DJs and top notch sound and lighting systems. It sounds more like an experience and place to be seen more than a dance the night away.

Admission costs $40 for men and $30 for women.

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