Text: Julie Schwietert Collazo
Photos: Francisco Collazo & Julie Schwietert Collazo

As the last two weeks of 2008 spin towards history, I find myself in bitingly cold New York City, where I’m wrapped in at least two layers of clothes by day and sleeping under two comforters at night.

New York has been my home since I moved here in 1999 after graduating from college, accepting an internship, and deciding to stay. It’s a city I love for a thousand reasons at least.

But in 2008, I didn’t spend a lot of time here. It was a very good year for travel–the best yet–and now that I’m finally settling down at home for a period of more than a week, I’m sorting through the year’s (and a 250 GB hard drive’s) photos, stories, and memories.

Here are a few I wanted to share with you….

JANUARY, Cuba/South Carolina, Mexico City, Cuernavaca, Puebla, Tijuana, San Diego, Pacific Coast Highway, and San Francisco:
Francisco and I started the new year apart, he with family in Cuba and I with family in South Carolina.

We met up at our part-time home in Mexico City, made quick trips to Cuernavaca and Puebla, crossed the border, and then drove the Pacific Coast Highway before…

FEBRUARY, New York:
We practiced settling for a while in this city where we met each other and where we both feel at home. We saw a Gonzalo Rubalcaba concert, watched old buildings be demolished and observed the new contour of this city begin to take shape.

MARCH, Mexico City & New York:
A split month, half in el DF and half in New York. In DF, I’m working on an assignment. In NYC, I’m a passionate observer of my own neighborhood.

APRIL, New York, Washington, D.C.:

It’s spring in the city, one of the very best times of year for a New Yorker. But I’m getting restless. I organize a trip to Washington, D.C. for my mom’s birthday.

Francisco and I also meet fellow Matador editor and the amazingly talented photographer, Lola Akinmade. Still, there are stories all around, as there always are, no matter where we are.

MAY, Cuba:

I visit Cuba for the first time since Fidel handed power over to his brother, Raul. Of seven or so visits to Cuba since 2005, this is the most special one, filled with incredible moments.

I interview Chinese Cubans, spend hours with a Cuban musicologist, & work on a documentary about Juan Antonio Picasso.

Francisco’s son and I go to Mariel, where Francisco set off from Cuba in 1980. We visit Cojimar and Hemingway’s home. And I celebrate Mother’s Day with Francisco’s mom and the mother of his son.

JUNE, New Orleans:

Francisco and I meet up in New Orleans to volunteer with the Culinary Corps and write about New Orleans. Seeing the state of New Orleans three years after Hurricane Katrina reminds me why traveling and stories are important & why I believe so passionately in both.

JULY, Colombia:

A full month in Colombia, with the bulk of our time spent in Mompox, where we meet the coolest kids in the world and begin making plans for an after-school program for them.

We also visit Cartagena, Santa Marta, Taganga, and Barranquilla.

AUGUST, Guadalajara, Mexico:
Back home in Mexico, we also visit Guadalajara on assignment. Not only does Sally Rangel and the staff of Villa Ganz set a totally new standard for service and hospitality, we discover that Guadalajara is quite possibly the only city where we’ve enjoyed every single meal we’ve eaten in restaurants. We were also fortunate to participate in and interview others who attended the Iluminemos Mexico march for peace.

SEPTEMBER, Perote and Veracruz, Mexico:

Perote: The town that tourism forgot. Not for long, if we have anything to do with it. Along with our friend, Carmen, we toured the San Carlos prison, visited an ostrich and orchid farm, dreamed about opening a bed and breakfast in an abandoned hacienda in the middle of a corn field at the base of some mountains, and found ancient pottery sherds just littering the side of the road as we drove up into the mountains. We also happened upon a local boxing match.

We drank strong coffee and had my palm read in Veracruz.

OCTOBER, Mexico City & Oaxaca, Mexico; Guantanamo Bay, Cuba:

October was all about connection.

We met Matador member Teresita and her husband, Ibis, at our home in Mexico City, reconnected with my old friend, Arely, and her husband Ivan at an airport restaurant, and visited with weavers at their home and interviewed protesters in Oaxaca.

I also traveled to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba to report about the military detention facility there.

I could have spent weeks there. In any event, I have a notebook full of stories that I’d like to write.

NOVEMBER, NYC, Washington, D.C., Chile:

NYC: To vote. Of course.

Washington, D.C.: To blog live from NPR on election night.

Chile: The press trip of a lifetime: 7 days. Santiago, Valparaiso, Punta Arenas, Torres del Paine. Cordero (lamb). But most of all… incredible people: Roberto, Francisco, Andres, Paloma, Carolina… que buenos son!

DECEMBER, Puerto Rico:
Francisco and I moved to Puerto Rico (shuttling back and forth between the island and NYC) in 2005 and left for good last December. While we had no active plans to return for a visit, our friends Wally and Marina asked us if we wanted to take care of their dogs for a couple weeks while they went on a much-needed and deserved vacation.

It was nice to see the sun every morning, to feel it on my skin, to watch as it penetrated just-rained skies and made light shows with rainbows, and to collect the grapefruit it ripened and scattered the ground with.

As visitors, we also went to places we’d never visited as residents, including the small island of Culebra and the town of Guanica, where the US invaded Puerto Rico during the Spanish-American War 210 years ago.

*

As I write this, I begin to realize that everything important is left out. It’s the people and the stories, and there’s a hundred folks at least. And for every person, a hundred stories.

I haven’t forgotten a single one of them. The stories are on the way….

Text: Julie Schwietert Collazo
Photos: Francisco Collazo

*hint: You don’t want the oceanfront view.

This time last week, we were forcing ourselves to get out of the insanely comfortable bed in Room 1101 of the Marriott in San Juan, Puerto Rico.

I’ll confess that when we checked in and found ourselves on the street-facing side of the hotel tower (even on the 11th floor), we were a bit disappointed.

“The least they could have done was give us the ocean view,” Francisco joked.

As we toured around the hotel and asked to see different rooms– the larger Cabana suites (which mean pool-front) that actually looked smaller than our room despite a few extra square feet of space; a penthouse spread; a room with the coveted ocean view–we realized that choosing a hotel room can be a complex decision.

The factors you should consider when choosing a hotel room may be unclear, especially if you’re a moderate or budget traveler more accustomed to staying in hostels or inns than chain hotels. But they can be sorted into a few general categories: view, space, amenities, and cost. The simplified formula looks something like this:

better view + more space (even if it’s just 3 sq. ft.) + more amenities = higher cost.

But keep this in mind:

better view + more space + more amenities does not always = better experience.

Especially when you know you paid more for it.

The Cabana suites may have been bigger in terms of square feet (”Really? Are you sure?” I asked the front desk agent), but they felt smaller than Room 1101. The penthouse may have had more amenities, but I was more than happy with the orange ginger shampoo and conditioner from Bath and Body Works (as a budget traveler, you don’t have to offer me many amenities to make me happy). Those extra amenities in the penthouse were things I weren’t likely to use anyway.

And the room with the ocean view? Well, it was humid.

The entire ocean facing side of the hotel had the same feel, impossible to eliminate, even with the most sophisticated climate control system. The sliding glass doors of the ocean-facing rooms were perpetually going to be covered with a salty film, no matter how many times the attentive and polite staff cleaned them.

The street facing room WAS the best… and it was the cheapest, too! It got more natural light (the sun sets over the ocean, meaning the ocean facing rooms get lots of natural light only in the afternoon). It felt the most spacious even if it really wasn’t. And the amenities were just fine. At a savings of $25-$50 a day, the street-facing room would have saved a significant chunk of change for a weekend stay.
*

So how can you take this experience and choose a hotel room that’s right for you?

1. Visit the hotel’s website and read about its rooms.
The San Juan Marriott, for example, has a detailed guest room page on its website. The page lists all the amenities that are standard for any room, and indicates that certain amenities may vary by room type… which should lead you to ask the question: What are the room types?

2. Take a virtual tour. Most hotels worth your money will have a virtual tour or photo gallery on their website. After all, the product they’re selling you is a room. The San Juan Marriott’s website has a photo tour that includes different types of rooms, the public areas of the property, and even the surrounding neighborhood. It even has 360^ photos. Be suspicious of a site that doesn’t provide you with photos of the hotel’s rooms.

3. Read reviews. While you should take other travelers’ reviews with a liberal grain (or whole shaker) of salt, the property reviews on sites like TripAdvisor can give you a better idea of what you should look for in a room and what you should avoid. Consistently favorable reviews mean that even the most picky travelers have found the property pleasing. And the presence of responses from hotel management shows that they care about the impressions their guests go home with and their willingness to resolve any problems… even the ones guests don’t raise on site and only complain about once they get home.

4. Call the hotel. Once you know what your options are, call the hotel and ask for prices for each of the room types. While you may ultimately choose to book your room through an online aggregator like Expedia or Orbitz, calling the hotel for current prices will help you get an idea of what your options are and whether you’re getting a deal. Talking with hotel staff will also give you an advantage that the aggregator sites won’t: you’ll be able to find out whether rooms have been renovated recently or whether the hotel itself is offering any last minute deals.

How do you choose a hotel room? Share your tips below!

Last week, Francisco’s niece sent THE List.

She’ll be turning 15 in February, and it’s a milestone age somewhat equivalent to sweet 16 in the United States.

I say “somewhat” because even the most lavish sweet 16 can hardly hold a candle to a well-done “quince.”

And a girl’s quince must be well done.

*
So. THE List.

“15 blouses. 15 mini skirts. Three pairs of high heels. Three pairs of flats–one gold, one silver, one bronze. A gold chain. Matching gold earrings.”

Francisco and I had a good talk about THE List, dragging other friends with families in Latin America into the conversation. Should we actually send her all these items? Does she have any idea how much these things cost? What’s a “normal” quince list? Is it right, as I argued, that we convey a “teachable moment” to his niece, a mini-economics lesson, perhaps?
*
Francisco, true to his nature, listened to everyone’s arguments, including mine, and pondered how he wanted to handle the expectations implied by THE List. He called Cuba to say that, yes, some items on the list were possible, but didn’t Viviana want an experience she could remember– not just 15 mini skirts and 15 blouses? The family went back and forth for 40 minutes, passing the phone from one family member to another, arguing the merits of each person’s idea of what’s best.

Me? I just poured myself a second cup of espresso to nurse one of my 15 headaches.

Photo: jubilo haku (Flickr creative commons)

“It’s comin’ on Christmas, they’re cuttin’ down trees, puttin’ up reindeer and singin’ songs of joy and peace….” -Joni Mitchell, “River”

A couple years ago, I was on the phone with my friend, C.K. It was Valentine’s Day and she spent several minutes imagining what an “amazing, romantic meal Francisco must be cooking right now.”

I laughed and told her he was cooking an amazing, romantic meal, but that he was probably unaware it was Valentine’s Day. He’s generally oblivious to holidays and is often unsure what day of the week it is.

*
Earlier this week, some friends asked what we’ll be doing for Christmas. Francisco and I looked at each other blankly and fumbled for a socially appropriate answer. We don’t have a tree–in fact, I can’t really remember if we’ve ever had one– we haven’t bought each other presents, and we haven’t planned a meal that’s any more elaborate than the dinners he makes every day.

Our friends’ question made me curious, though. What were Francisco’s Christmases like as a child in Cuba? “Did you ever celebrate Christmas?” I asked him later. “No. Nunca. Ni Navidades, ni cumpleanos, nada. Yo nunca recibi un regalo.”

“Why?” I asked, curious that gifts were never given and parties were never planned for any occasion despite the fact that his mother is more pragmatic than emotional, expressing her love in ways that are hard, if not impossible, for me to understand.

“Besides being poor?” he asked. “I don’t really know.”
*
Once– after sulking for an entire day, hoping he’d finally notice I was pouting because it was my birthday and he hadn’t said a word, much less bought a present– I asked him why he didn’t really celebrate holidays even now as an adult.

“Well, every day is special,” he said. “So why should we wait for a certain day? Let’s just celebrate every day.”

And since that really is the way he lives, a gift he has shared with me, I have become far less preoccupied with holidays of any sort. In fact, just this morning I realized that we’re only 8 days away from Christmas….

Photo: nguarracino (Flickr creative commons)

…sabía que vendrías,…
con tus ojos, tus manos y tu boca
pero con otro corazón
que amaneció a mi lado
como si siempre hubiera estado allí
para seguir conmigo para siempre.

-Neruda

*

If you had known me eight years ago, you would have known that marriage was the last thing on my mind. Among all my friends, I’d likely have been the last one you’d expect to get married.

And then, everything changed.
*
I fell in love with mi media naranja (my other half) and when we stood on a beach in Vieques, Puerto Rico with friends and family during our wedding, I knew that I had made one of the most exciting, important decisions of my life: the decision to wake up each morning and choose again (and again and again) to practice love, to practice radical acceptance, to make mistakes and practice forgiveness, to remain curious about and appreciative and unconditionally committed to another human being as amazing and as flawed as I am. It’s a conscious choice that I make every day.

*
I recently joked with some friends that I missed the days of marriage when everything I did was the source of fascination, excitement and appreciation for Francisco. The couple laughed, perhaps in recognition. Having articulated the thought jokingly, I turned it over in my mind for a few weeks, wistfully.

And then the lines of Neruda’s poem “El Dano” came to mind:

“Tú entre todos los seres
tienes derecho
a verme débil.”

“You of all people
have the right
to see me weak.”

Love, marriage… they evolve. Each new phase takes you to a different place, if you’re willing to go there together.