Since moving to California in 2004, I’ve spent nearly every single Christmas in a sunny place with moderate temperatures and palm trees. Existing in New York City in November and December already felt more festive than any other holiday in recent memory.
December was a frenzy. The bustle of the holidays overshadowed by a new variant, canceling holiday parties, holiday travels. This year, with no “home” to return to, and feeling stifled anchored in the city for so long, I decided to do a lazy getaway with a couple friends, also from California, also new to the city, also unfamiliar with this coast.
Our search for the perfect Airbnb was hilarious. Not for lack of effort but we couldn’t pronounce a thing. Upstate seems fine and good when other people casually bring it up in conversation, but when you really start digging into it, there are a lot of foreign sounding names involved. Most of the planning was spent looking at accommodations. Given Omicron, we weren’t planning on doing much, so the plan was to find an aesthetically pleasing, spacious place where we could do as little as possible. Maybe an outdoor activity at some point. But mostly cooking, TV and just spreading out in a space larger than our city boxes.