Despite some of my unfortunate happenings this fall, one of my fortunate experiences is to witness the color change first hand in New England.  Each year from September to early November, Mother Nature creates an inspiring spectacle of reds, organcs, and yellows as she prepares to tuck us in for the winter. Her colors take me back to my childhood in the Midwest with memories of jumping in piles of raked leaves, hayrides, and the aroma of baked apple pies filling the house.

As an experience like this is better shared, enjoy the fall colors of my video and remember this quote:

“Everyone must take time to sit and watch the leaves turn.” Elizabeth Lawrence

For my  fellow “leaf peepers,” please share your fall color change hot spots around the world and your fall activities by adding a comment.

As the majority of us head back to work after a weekend of getaways to campsites, cottages, beach homes, or just a coma induced weekend of lots of grilling and libations, I have just arrived back to South Florida from a very quick whirlwind tour of Boston and a traditional New England Fourth of July.

It was not planned, but yes I stumbled across one of the quintessential components of any Fourth of July, a parade. Last Saturday, I attended a hometown Fourth of July parade in Chelmsford, Massachusetts (just 24 miles outside of Boston and pronounced chums-ferd). With the local crowd waving American flags, kids running for candy thrown by fire trucks blaring their sirens, high school bands marching in step, and bag pipes playing, I certainly received my dose of people watching. However, I have to admit that my absolute favorite part of it all had to have been the Minutemen (see picture above). Just as a history refresher, Minutemen were colonial militia that fought for America’s freedom in the Revolutionary War. They were typically young, very mobile, and quick to respond (thus the name).

Although the Fourth’s festivities and parade were just one of the many good times and good stories of my trip to Beantown, I will be sharing over the next few weeks a series of posts with tips and pictures from the North End, Newbury Street, the Commons, and more.

But, before I go, I will leave you with a piece of Boston trivia.

Why is Boston nicknamed Beantown? As an influential trade town, Boston received much sugar cane from the Caribbean for making other products, including rum and molasses. In colonial days, it was very popular to serve beans that had been cooked in molasses. Today, Boston Baked Beans are not as common, but if you fancy a taste, try out this recipe from one of my favorite sites Epicurious.

As most Sundays, I take the opportunity to sleep a little late and then take a morning jog for roughly 3 miles. Although used to working out quite regularly, it always surprises me how difficult it is to run (hmmm…that may be because I am not a gazelle like the Kenyan superstar marathoners). However, today I was reminded of my divine physical feat only 5 years ago in Boston for the 108th Boston Marathonin April 19, 2004.

For those of you not familiar with a marathon, it is 26.2 miles. It was first begun in ancient times by a Greek soldier, Pheidippides, a messanger from the Battle of Marathon to Athens. From experience, I must say it is a feat that takes much preparation, dedication, and an inner drive to continue through pain. Unlike many other marathons, for the Boston Marathon you must qualify in another marathon in order to qualify to run.

Somehow I was asked by a colleague of mine, if I would like to run the marathon. At first, I thought absolutely no way, but after a good night’s sleep the competitive side of Ms. Traveling Pants came out in full force. Within a week, I fully investigated the possibilities of running officially or unofficially as a “bandit” as they say in Boston. Additionally, I signed up for a running group that was specifically training for the Boston Marathon. At the time, it was late October, just the right amount of time to ramp up from 10 miles a week to 15 miles to a full marathon and then scaling back right before the mid-April date, called Patriot’s Day.

Mind you training for a marathon in New England from October to April is rather challenging. The winter is brutal and running outside is really the only option to get the training of the hills as well as relief from boredom. Believe me a one hour run on a treadmill is ok, but for 3-4 hours, you begin to feel like a gerbil.

After the winter grind of training, the day was approaching. I didn’t have time or the running speed to qualify at another marathon. Neither did I want to raise enough money to qualify through charitable means. Honestly, to raise thousands of dollars is almost as difficult as the physical torture. So, I started to think out of the box and ask around. I thought that perhaps through my networking, I might be able to snag an official number from one of the sponsoring companies.

It was my lucky year and well one of my friend’s boyfriend’s unlucky year. He worked for John Hancock at the time, which was one of the major sponsors. All employees had the opportunity to get an official number and run the marathon. He applied for the number and did much of the preparation, but suffered an unfortunate injury. That is where I came in. I asked and received. I was now to be an official runner of the Boston Marathon. If you ever want to check the story, I wasMike Fleming coming in at a rather slow 5 hours.

The day of the race was not what any of us had imagined. It was not a cool April day in Boston, but a hot 85 degrees. For all of us used to the cold training, it was frightening. Yes, it may have been great for spectators, but most of the runners, myself included, were fearing dehydration and sheer exhaustion from the heat.

I started in roughly the tenth stable with hundreds of others. After hearing the shot indicating the start, it took about twenty minutes for all those ahead of me to start so that I could begin my slow run towards downtown Boston. The energy from the spectators all along the route was amazing. There are a couple of areas that are just truly unbelievable: Wellesley College for the loud, screaming women and then of course Heartbreak Hill in Newton somewhere around mile 22.

About 1 hour behind my expected time, I reached Boston and saw my friend at the bottom of Heartbreak Hill where the year previously I had been a spectator and participant in beer pong and bbq. Also, my father was waiting in Brookline. I remember that upon seeing him I didn’t want to continue. My muscles were fatigued and my bones hurt with every step.

I continued. About one mile before the finish, I saw my mother. I just wanted to cry. I had nothing left. She and I continued. She was in sandals, but at that point even in sandals she could keep up as my gate wasn’t more than a fast walk. I turned ontoBoylston Street. The crowds went wild, yelling my name, encouraging me to make it just another 3 blocks.

I made it on only fumes of my own pride. If I hadn’t told so many people that I was running, I would have pulled off much before. Upon crossing the line, I forced my arms up for the picture above to document the moment. The pain was unbelievable. After receiving my metal, the marathon workers needed to grab the microchip that was in my shoes to measure my time. As I had no strength left, the worker lifted my feet to a stool and undid the shoes to grab the chip. I remember thanking this woman repetitively as I didn’t feel I could do anything but collapse. Wrapped in the typical foil blanket to keep warm, I searched for the bus with my clothing and then meet my family at the letter F for Fleming.

That evening I ate ribs, biscuits, and peanuts in the shell at a place called the Texas Roadhouse. I remember thinking that I would be very hungry, but believe it or not I was not nearly as hungry as on a typical day. Also, I was surprisingly limber that evening. However, the following morning and 2 days after was interesting. All I can say is that the toilet seat in farther down than you think and it was certainly much more challenging after 26.2 miles.

So, will I ever run a marathon again? Absolutely not, I have checked that life goal off the list.

As a key component of all travels, food is the window to a different culture. I have decided to highlight my favorite food destinations along with some recommendations in a top ten list.

For those of you familiar with David Letterman and the Late Night Show, I give you…..Ms. Traveling Pants’ Top Ten Favorite Food Destinations.

10. Montreal, a great blend of bilingual culture, jazz, and dining. I have had the pleasure of visiting this great city twice with my husband who is an executive chef. Believe us, if you are in the mood for a great aged steak, you must stop by Le Queue Cheval and if you have a second night to dine please go to Peel Street and visit Ferriera’s Cafe.

9. Florida Keys…my number nine review is for an outstanding Islamorada restaurant called Pierre’s. With its own private white sand beach and beautiful Gulf views for sunsets, this is a special place. It is high end cuisine, but you can always just visit the inviting bar and lounge on the beach patio lit by tiki torches after the sunset. For lunches, I would recommend its sister restaurant Morada Bay. With great chips and salsa, live music, and that same private beach, it is one of the best lunch joints in the Keys.

8. Also, in South Florida, you must go to Le Tub in Hollywood. Award winning for its extra large burgers, the place certainly has a unique decor with a wooden enclosed eating area with benches for parties of two to six people. Some of the tables are waterfront (you need to get there when they open to get these prime spots) while the others are shaded by tropical trellises. Be prepared to wait an hour for your burgers and the servers are “no-frills.”

7. Whether in Casablanca, Marrakesh, or Tangiers, you must try the national dish of Morocco, tagine. Named after the actual cooking vessel, tagines are rather unusually shaped casserole pans with a cone shaped cover. It is with this heating and steaming method that the typical chicken and lamb combination is very moist and enhanced by the flavors of carrots, potatoes, onions, and many times dried fruits and nuts such as almonds and raisins.

6. When in New England, a stop in Beantown for “chowda” is necessary no matter what the season. Clam Chowder, a traditional thick soup with onions, potatoes, cream, and clams, is no better than at one of the most historic restaurants in all of Boston, the Union Oyster House. In fact, the Union Oyster House, near Quincy market and Faneuil Hall, was one of my husband’s first jobs in the culinary field.

5. Madrid is near and dear to me so I must mention one of its specialties. Cocido Madrileno is a very filling stew usually served in two stages. The first consists of a broth, straight from a large pan where all the stew’s meat has been slowly simmering. The second course is usually presented in a tray placed in the middle of the table containing chickpeas, cabbage, potatoes, carrots, and all the meat: beef, chicken, ham, chorizo and sometimes morcilla (blood sausage). Only true Madrileno style restaurants do cocido and typically only one day a week.

4. New Orleans is a great stop for culinary travels. If you haven’t heard of it before, you must go to Cafe du Monde for a good coffee and the world renowned beignets, square fritters covered with powdered sugar. If you want an enjoyable Southern dinner on Bourbon Street, try the Red Fish Grill. Go for the Red fish….it is good enough to name the restaurant after.

3. Ixtapa, Mexico not only is a trendy, Mexican beach destination, but it has a great hamburger place called Ruben’s. Now you don’t think of burgers when you think Mexican food, but these charbroiled burgers are to die for. You can have them with the traditional ketchup and mustard, but I would recommend skipping both and going for the in-house pickled vegetable mixture to garnish.

2. Not to far from number 3, Zihauntanejo, Mexico…..This is where you would find Pollo Loco (crazy chicken) a small, local hangout that has the best hand made tortillas, grilled onions, peppers, and chicken a la brasa. Just order the 1/2 chicken, a Sol (a more authentic Mexican beer than Corona), and roll up your sleeves and dig in.

1. Nerja, Spain is one of the jewels of Costa del Sol and paella beachside is my number one pick. Paella is typically done by fire in a very shallow, metal pan (see picture above). It is a rice dish with fresh seafood, chicken, sometimes rabbit, saffron for color, veggies and is best accompanied by a nice pitcher of sangria. I would recommend Chiringuito Ayo, one of the most popular on Burriana beach.