La Isla Bonita

{Me exploring Puerto Rico in a Mara Hoffman dress (on sale now!)}

{Palm tree porn}

{St. Regis Bahia Beach, Puerto Rico‘s Plantation House}

{Nature trails teeming with teensy chirping frogs called coquis}

{I basically never left my room. Except to get a blowout, play tennis and forage for seared scallops, of course}

{My inner nerd loves this library}

Hola! I’m blogging at you live, freaks! I’ll tell you where, someplace warm… A place where the rum flows like wine, where beautiful women instinctively flock like the salmon of Capistrano. I’m talking about a little place called… Puerto Rico. And, yes, I’m quasi-quoting Dumb and Dumber because it’s one of my all-time favorite flicks. Judge all you want.

This is my second jaunt to La Isla del Encanto (the island of enchantment) and I’m staying at the uber luxe St. Regis Bahia Beach. I’ve relished some real fancy schmancy places in my travels and this spot most definitely ranks in my top two.

Why? For starters, I love the Plantation-style architecture/design aesthetic of the property. It’s plushy but not pretentious. Secondly, my favorite chef, Jean-Georges Vongerichten (try to say that three times in a row, overachievers), operates the on-site restaurant, Fern. Thirdly, the hotel is situated inside a lush, tropical forest rife with fauna (think really cool lizards, gorgeous birds and crooning tree frogs). Hello? This place is majestic. Like a unicorn, I tell you!

I’ve enjoyed heaps of time to myself and when this happens, well, it’s easier to hear the Universe talking to me. For example, I was running on the treadmill yesterday morning (b-o-r-i-n-g times 1,000) and 6 minutes into my jog, my ADD kicked in and I wanted off. But then all of a sudden…an iguana the size of my 5-year-old tiptoed into my line of vision. I was wholly mesmerized by this rad reptile as it sunbathed and chewed on leaves as though they tasted like chocolate molten lava cakes. It was like a damn National Geographic episode in the living flesh! And guess what? By the time he traipsed out of the garden, I ran a whole 30 minutes. In other words, the Universe provided me with some pre-internet/pre-Kardashian entertainment because she’s good like that.

Another sign? I was locked up in my room for hours (reading the news, watching E!, Facebook stalking, checking emails, the usual crap…) and like a complete asshole, I accidentally locked myself out of my hotel room while placing my room service tray outside my door. Did I mention all I was wearing was a bath robe and wet-hair turban? And the front desk was a loooong walk away. And there was a WEDDING GOING ON IN FULL SWING? Yes, I crashed a wedding dressed in a bath robe and Turbie Twist. TOP THAT.

But the beauty in this blunder was the barefoot moonlit walk to and from the lobby — I could relish the sweet sing-song of the coquis. I smelled the damp earth. I felt the dew on my skin. I even found myself madly chirping back to the frogs like a complete mental case from One Flew The Cuckoo’s Nest (another stellar film in my book).

Ah, the little things.