(Mad)rid about Spain

In an attempt to visually serve justice to the remainder of this trip while also realizing that image fatigue is a thing, and not all of you might find each different side street photo as much as individual treasures as I do, here goes the cliff notes version of days 5 through 10:

To wrap up our portion in Madrid, we snuck into the Reina Sofia an hour before opening to receive a private lecture by our Professors in front of Guernica, all by ourselves. And once that clock hit 9am, boy were we flooded with traffic. This was probably the point of the trip when I realized how fortunate we were to be traveling with such brilliant people and doing such VIP things. This thought was confirmed when one of my classmates whispered in awe, "Wow, I can't wait to come back in see this." (probably in regards to one of our Mosque-roof-access excursions), to which a professor responded, "You're probably never seeing this again." And rightly so. 

These views were spectacular, and made even more so because of their rare, almost unicorn like, status. We were probably never going to see Spain like this again, so what'd I do? Split my time between soaking it in and photographing it, for institutional memory of course. 

Post Morning At the Museum (think Ben Stiller level, but AM), we ventured to El Escorial where someone tried to sneak into the Courtyard with us, but our super cool security guard was not having it. 

But that wasn't the only Palace we saw. Once we hit Sevilla, we frolicked in the gardens of La Casa de Pilatos, and took a quiet, dusk tour around the Alcázar. 

The next morning, we took to the sky with several aerial views of the city - think tons (and I mean tons) of stairs (yep, I may or may not have slipped in one of the winding corridors in the dark) & altitudes so high there may or may not have been a nosebleed... friends run to the tour guide for help, true friends know that that's taken care of so they take pictures instead:

For one of the only moments we had a free hour to unwind, we hit the pool. And by that I mean napped poolside and fawned over the beauty of it all. 

Suffice it to say, I absolutely loved my trip to Spain. I realize any return adventures will never be the same, but I am so fortunate to have had my first Spanish experience be filled with such fun, surprise, and learning. 

Sevilla later.

Xx, Maia 

Madrid Day 5:

• Reina Sofia

• Escorial

Burgos Day 6:

• Burgos Cathedral

• Monastery of Santa Maria la Real de las Huelgas

• IPHA Cartuja Monastery

Córdoba Day 7:

• Mosque-Cathedral of Córdoba

• Synagogue

• Hospital Cardenal Salazar

Sevilla Day 8:

• Casa de Pilatos, Duke of Alcalá’s Palace

• Hospital de la Caridad

• Seville Cathedral

• Old Cathusian Monastery, Isla de la Cartuja

• Instituto Andaluz del Patrimonio Histórico in Carthusian Monastery

• Alcázar

Sevilla Day 9:

• Museum of Fine Arts

• Iglesia de San Salvador and vaults

• Seville Cathedral Vaults

Familiar Barcelona & (Too)ledo Many Shenanigans

Days two through four of this trip were split between surveying the rest of Barcelona (a hefty task for a day), commuting to Madrid, and taking time to explore Toledo. 

Though I've never been to Barcelona, or Spain in general for that matter, I'm partially titling this post "familiar" because, well, it was. Kinda. 

First off, I was greeted bright and early on Day two by a familiar face: Harvard pal, Cesar, who has been on a study abroad in Barcelona all semester (read: sad!). He showed me his university and we had the chance to catch up over bocadillos - which I would soon come to be addicted to, and also probably eat my weight's worth. 

Post breakfast, us HAAers went to the Museu Nacional d’art de Catalunya, and truly felt one with the art...

Our next stop was also familiar, in the sense that I had learned a lot about this architect and his work back in high school: Ludwig Mies Van der Rohe - specifically his Barcelona Pavilion. A simple beauty replete with rich juxtapositions of crisp marble, lush velvet, and pristine glass - all contributing to, one might say, the liminal nature of the space. 

We then spent quite some time at the Picasso Museum (no pictures permitted, so you'll just have to take my word for it) before heading to the Gothic Quarter, dining, and packing up for an early trip to Madrid the following morning.

Day three marked the day we will never forget. The day we spent seven hours in the Prado. Seven. Hours. It's the Prado, we know. It was great, no complaints there. But we hadn't quite adjusted to the drastically different dining situation, and hungry doesn't make for the best visual digestion. I will say that seeing Las Meninas in person was quite a Transformative Experience (thanks Harvard, thanks Dean Khurana), and it was quite comical to find little Infantas scattered around Madrid from there on out. 

Day four, we all zonked out on the bus en route to Toledo, but perked up once we were there - or at least I did. I absolutely loved it! From the sexy sidestreets to the sprawling view, frolicking in the flowers in between, Toledo had to be one of my favorite spots. 

There, we saw the Cathedral of Toledo, Mezquita del Cristo de la Luz, Santo Tormé, Santa Maria La Blanca, and El Tránsito - not without our fair share of shenanigans and group photos of course. 

But, in all seriousness, the architectural views were pretty spectacular. From lush landscapes to crisp corners, each stop was full of awe and information streaming directly from our professors. 

So here's to looking up at ceilings like these, and looking forward to more Spain posts - oh yes, there's more. 

Xx, Maia

Barcelona Day 2:

• Museu Nacional d’art de Catalunya

• Ludwig Mies Van der Rohe Foundation, Barcelona Pavilion

• Picasso Museum

• Gothic Quarter: Cathedral, Las Ramblas

Madrid Day 3:

• Descalzas Reales Convent

• Prado Museum

Toledo Day 4:

• Toledo Cathedral

• Mezquita del Cristo de la Luz

• Santo Tormé

• Santa Maria La Blanca

• El Tránsito

A Spanish Revival & Gaudí's Barcelona

Though Spanish Revival is a beast of it's own, I'm poaching its credible title to announce this Mod & Bean comeback - one of perhaps epic proportions (I'm talking travel photos galore). Though not as much pomp but definitely a lot of circumstance prevented me from keeping up a few weeks worth of Mod Mondays, much like Gossip Girl, I'm back and better than ever - sans the digital tormenting, of course.

I present to you the first of several installations reporting on the art, the architecture, and the adventures of 10 days in Spain, generously afforded by the History of Art & Architecture Department at Harvard for the sophomore concentrators.

Adventures included days spent at the Prado and Reina Sofia (before and after public hours, wow!), trips to every grand Cathedral, Mosque, and Synagogue imaginable to celebrate Spain's convivencia, and scaling these skyscrapers for behind the scenes aerial views of Spain.

For ease of photo upload and narrative arch, I have broken down this trip regionally, focusing on the major cities of Barcelona, Madrid, and Sevilla as the anchors of the posts. Each post will deliver sites and stories from that spot, including the itineraries of those days at the end for more specific citations. Today's post? A review of Gaudí's Barcelona - a visionary known for his gargantuan and fantastical structures that manage to consume you and transport you into another universe. Though we viewed images of his work throughout the whole semester in class, nothing could compare to the overwhelming nature of approaching one of these curvilinear structures and instantly feeling like both an alien and an ant inside. I'm not saying that the sleep deprivation from the day's travel helped to make these buildings trippier, but I'm also not not saying it. 

Fresh off the plane we slipped into Casa Milá, passing my personal favorite, House of Bones (Casa Batlló) on the way. At each stop, we usually had some peer presentations, so don't just think we're nerds who carry books to every site we saw, we had to do that ;) 

For Casa Milá, roof access was available to all those curious - and what a curious sight indeed:

From a peak we went to a valley, Parque Güell  to be exact, where I marveled at the colorful nature of humans when you zoom out and see them as "sprinkles on the ice cream of life" (to quote my insta caption that day). 

To finish this bit of exploration, we ended with the un-finished Sagrada Familia: a Cathedral of colossal stature.

As we all looked up, and spent the week doing so, you can look forward to plenty more jaw-dropping views and typical shenanigans in the days to come. 

Welcome back!

Xx, Maia

Barcelona Day 1:

• Casa Milá (La Pedrera)
• Parque Güell 
• Sagrada Familia

Sugar, (Bajan) Spice, & Everything Nice

Sometimes I just feel the sunshine in my bones. It's there tickling my body, rejuvenating my happiness, and reinvigorating my curiosities. Maybe it's because I was born in the sunshine that I feel recharged in it, or maybe it's the lack of Vitamin D in Boston that felt so refreshing during this week in Barbados. All in all, I'm happy to say that the sun and the salt is one of my favorite recipes for revitalization. 

For spring break (spranggg breakkk?) three of my friends and I ventured off to Barbados thanks to the tropical oasis Leila's family has here. In a rotation of pools, beaches, island adventures, and a promise to myself to not touch schoolwork, I had the most carefree time I've had in a while. 

And, for any close readers out there, I actually managed to tan! Yup, good 'ol "I don't tan, I burn" has been disproven in favor of the golden crisp I managed to achieve! (Pic or it didn't happen, I know): 

With this weeklong adventure, came ample naps, quiet days, and a sprinkling of pretty silly things. For one, there was a daily battle of whether or not to jump off the small cliff at the beach. The vacation daredevil in me said, "Do it do it do it, you gotta do it!" while the reasonable, almost 6 foot self said, "You're going to hit the bottom and break your legs, stat." It didn't help that this angel and devil combo manifested in two young brothers, Josh and Jean-Lucas. They were vacationers and veterans of the cliff, probably 10 and 15 years old, respectively, and strongly encouraged Val and I to jump off every time we climbed up there for the view. 

Long story short, we didn't jump. Josh did, though. In a baby banter, he tried to cajole me to jump, and when I refused he asked, "Then can you take a sweet shot of me jumping?" "Sure." 

Val and I thought nothing of the exchange after that, until we ran into young Josh and his family at a restaurant in the resort. We were dining with fellow Harvard peeps who also happened to be in Barbados for break (cue, "Wow, what a small world?!"), when Josh tapped me on the shoulder from behind and handed me a cup of ice cream from the Village Cafe. I turned around, giggled out of amusement, nervousness, and confusion, and blurted, "You know this is really creepy, right? Like where did this ice cream come from?" In hindsight, I realize a little kid wasn't going to poison me, but stranger danger, right? Turns out he was 11, offended that I assumed he was 10, and asked if we'd buy him an adult beverage in exchange for his kindness. Nope. His mom also winked at me when they walked by - a fan of his pre-summer lovin? 

Aside from the novelty of ~young love~, Caroline and Leila (the New York Northerness to me and Val's Floridian "Southerness") found the abundance of guava products to be so rare and exciting! Val and I shared a Cuban chuckle, and proceeded to buy the juice of our childhood. 

Turns out the it's a small world after all, and you're bound to find unexpected friends on the beach just napping and toasting coconuts!

The day we ventured away from the water and into the island still managed to remind me of home - not with the aimless roaming of chickens, but with the lush botanical garden that triggered feels from, you guessed it, Fairchild! 

Back on the beach we sipped on piña coladas, read books for pleasure (a novel concept?!), and got absolutely destroyed by the undercurrent of the waves - resulting in copious amounts of sand in our hair and... beyond. I'm fishing out flecks of it from my ear as I write. 

And though I did manage to nurse a tan this week, that wasn't free from a torched shoulder here and there, or, in Val's case, a complete oversight of covering "the girls": 

Guess everything truly is sunnier on vacation, even the broadness of our smiles as we pack up and head back to the Bostonian blizzard. 

Xx, Sun-Kissed Maia 

Twentieth Revolution

On my twentieth revolution around the sun, I felt fortunate to be surrounded by loved ones in all capacities: friends, family, and four-legged siblings. I'm not a "birth month" or even "birth week" kind of gal, but my birthday is a very special day for me, and a borderline National Holiday? That's a stretch, but indulge me. 

This year, amidst midterms and burning out on the road to Spring Break, I threw together the most hodge podge, yet symbolic, celebration scheme. I'm not kidding when I say I took a midterm Monday night (hence the skippage of the Mod Monday this week), blinfoldedly bumbled around campus (too many details to go into now...), and sprinted over to the left ledge of Widener for a birthday party. Yes, I had a birthday party at the library. On the left ledge. Yup. People did, in fact show up, and I was both pleasantly surprised and over the moon. 

From 11:30pm-midnight, I forced friends to brave the cold (rewarding them with hot chocolate, cake, bubbly at midnight, and my hugs, of course), abandon their theses for a sec, and dance suspended off the ground at Widener Library. At one point, Securitas peaked out of the library, shot one glance our way, chuckled, and left us alone - #bless. At midnight, I felt the warmth from my friends (despite losing feeling in my toes) and welcomed in my twenties with a phone call from Sandy, which received audience laughter when I answered with a, "Hiiiii Mami!" 

Post Danza Kuduro with the friends left standing, sleep was in order before a bday breakfast with the gals. I'm not joking when I say I planned a bday breakfast (not lunch, when more people would've probably been awake) for the sole purpose of consuming the Cream Chipped Beef Biscuits from Henrietta's Table - better known as a buttery heart attack in a bowl. 

Fast forward to 3pm when class was over and I was headed to the airport in order to celebrate with my parents. And, though I received many a puzzled look and snide, "Wow... that's extra" from some friends about me up and leaving for Miami. I must say it made my birthday. Being able to spend every birthday with my parents has been a godsend, and I sure wasn't going to stop now.

Little did I know my parents had flown in my sister as a surprise! The four of us shared a delicious dinner in South Beach, celebrating the last minutes of my birthday and kicking off a fabulous new decade. 

In the morning, I re-enacted a silly, over-sized balloon pic tradition - up until the zero floated away and I went from 20 to 2 real quick.

Then Sandy and I celebrated with Val, reminiscing over past birthdays spent together, with the most visually pleasing breakfast. Ever. 

Suffice it to say, I felt so loved that day. Birthdays, to me, are such a celebration of life - a yearly reminder of the beautiful people that are on this journey with me, flowing in and out, and contributing to who I grow to become with each revolution around the sun. 

Xx, Maia 

Israeli Shenanigans

Throughout my week in Israel, I kept a running tab of jokes to commemorate the lighthearted aspects that made this exploration all the more memorable. 

After a day in Jerusalem (the Old City, the Western Wall, and a demo of rolling stones, but actually) we headed to the desert to spend a night in a Bedouin Tent. Before we went stargazing and drank tea while learning about the Bedouin culture, we did what everyone secretly was waiting for: a camel ride! 

Though camels are much louder and stinkier than expected, watching the sun set on the desert while trotting along on a majestic creature was pretty much the stuff of movies. After learning all about the wonders of camel milk, the normal tendency of having weekday wives, and eating an excessive amount of sweet cookies with sweeter tea, we snuggled into sleeping bags and rested for our hike up Masada. 

And, as promised from my last Israel installation, here goes the tale of the Dead Sea. Post hikes and expending more athletic energy than I probably have in the past two years combined, we traveled down to the lowest point on earth for a refreshing (albeit heavily warned that things might burn in unfavorable places) dip and test of human buoyancy. Upon ensuring my body was free of tiny cuts and vulnerable crevices that would sting with the salt - I took the plunge. 

Though I had a great time in the water (a true pisces), mud-fight included, I don't think any photo taken could really sum up the sheer excitement that you do, in fact, float in this water, more than this photo of my sister. It's rare that something makes Ariel beam like this - I'm told the last time she sported this smile was at the Minions movie. 

Though I joked that the Dead Sea is the lowest point in the world, but the highest point of my day, the trip did, in fact, continue on an upward trend. Aside from frolicking about the markets (saving that for the next, nom-themed post), we had the opportunity to explore the city of Jaffa - which was described as San Diego meets Barcelona.

Peep this wishing tree (or so I'm told by relying on translations from the Israeli soldiers on our trip)!

On our last day, we took a long walk on the beach (Birthright is all about meeting your soulmate, right??). This part really did remind me of home, and made me think that even though I'd only been in Israel for a week, it did feel like I was coming home to a place that wanted me here. 

But I'll save the sappy stuff for later, and instead show you this picture of my friend Elizabeth and I donning "eyes all over" - yes, I had both eyes ironed on my jacket and painted onto my nails. 

Other miscellaneous shenanigans include being very excited to find out that the lion is not only the WInthrop House icon, but also a prominent symbol all over Jerusalem, and indulging in the most delectable, mascarpone ice cream in Tel Aviv. 

Until next time!

Xx, Maia 

Israel: First Impressions

On January 15th, I had the privilege and good fortune to travel with my older sister, Ariel, to Israel - a place I wasn't sure I'd ever make it to, let alone to be able to share it with her. We traveled on Birthright, an organized trip to bring Jews back to Israel to see the sites, hear the history, and experience the emotion of the land that witnessed the development of our religion. While I often joke and tell friends I'm more "Jew-ish" than anything else, I took this opportunity to educate myself about my inherited religion, learn about the State of Israel, and truly feel a familiar connection in an unfamiliar land. 

Over seven days, we trekked through Jerusalem, Bedouin Tents, Masada, the Dead Sea, Jaffa, Tel Aviv, and probably others that are escaping recollection at this moment. In an effort to both process my trip and share my visual experience with you all, I've spliced the trip into first impressions, shenanigans, markets & noms, and closing thoughts (aka stay tuned for many more stories and shawarma pictures).

Going into this trip, I tried not to have any expectations. I really didn't know what I thought Israel would look like, but somehow I was still surprised by what I saw. Right off the plane we headed to Jerusalem, rested off the jet lag as best we could, and geared up for a day in the Old City. 

Everywhere we turned, there were colossal structures of white stone, crumbling in places teeming with history. Let me preface this, I am not the biggest history buff. I sometimes find it hard to relate to the memorization of dates and wars and conquests, but with the extreme fortune of an incredible Tour Guide on our Birthright trip, I felt enthralled with each story of my ancestors and description of the spot we were standing in. 

Our guide, Daniel, even explained the ancient architectural methods of rolling stones across logs by asking for volunteers to lay on the floor and recreate the motion (note to self: never volunteer for one of Daniel's stories). 

While I was enchanted by the surroundings of the Old City of Jerusalem, and truly felt such a welcoming presence and comfort in the air, the most impacting part of the day had to be visiting the Western Wall. Growing up, even though I was never one to constantly frequent temple, or really be an overly active member of my Jewish community, I had definitely heard about the Western Wall. Whether it be in Hebrew School leading up to my Bat Mitzvah, or in 9th grade history at my Episcopalian High School, I came into this aspect of the trip full of expectations - which were subsequently exceeded. 

There's something so powerful in standing amidst people with a common history. I'm not saying I completely identify with the ultra Orthodox Jews that ritualistically cleansed their hands before entering the wall, nor do I completely feel comfortable with the separation of men and women at the wall, but I felt very invited by the wall itself. As if it truly wanted to hear what I wanted to say. So I wrote my note, and left my message in Israel. 

After the happy heaviness of the wall, we traveled to Bedouin Tents to learn about that culture and touristically ride some camels - but I'll save this story for another day. Post sleeping in the desert, we woke up before the sunrise to hike up Masada and learn about King Herod and his legacy. Aside from my tiny nasal passages impeding a pleasant hike, reaching the top of Masada truly felt like being on top of the world (probably because I'm used to living in flat Miami, and also because we floated in the lowest point in the world promptly after the hike). 

Some people took this moment to connect with yoga, I, a dutiful Pinecrestonian Jew, made my dad proud by posing with a copy of our local newspaper for their front page travel tradition (I promise you, I only did this once and then left the paper behind to enjoy the experience in a less commercial way). 

And, if one hike that day wasn't enough, Daniel thought it would be fun to visit Ein Gedi and precariously stumble upon a waterfall - which made it worth the trek. Some people sure worked up a sweat, and took the opportunity to rinse off before they got scolded...

All in all, though, my first impressions of Israel were ones of awe and admiration. My aunt, a definite fan of our finally making it to Israel, was right. She told me that in this unfamiliar land, I'm going to feel familiar  - welcomed, happy, and with a beautiful sense of belonging. 

So thank you, Israel, for the warm embrace and abundance of stories to tell with a profound tug in my heart and smile on my face.

Xx, Maia

Knaus Your Typical Winter

Today it's 50ish degrees in Miami and you better believe everyone is busting out their faux fur and north face jackets to brave "the cold". While I share a chuckle about the weather wardrobe with fellow Miamians turned northeast college students, I can't help but be thankful for our s'winters. You know, summer-winters? That's a thing, right? 

I mean for the holidays, when you think red and green don't you think of picking plump pinkish strawberries that dot the lush green aisles of Knaus Berry Farms? 

And I'm sure for winter white you think of linen and blouses and tank tops?

To celebrate New Year's you obviously crave the fresh salt water and open air out on a boat?

And of course your go to winter staple is a bathing suit?

When you think of it getting dark early, aren't you talking about the shade from the palm trees and tiki huts at noon?

Instead of snuggling by the warmth radiating from a fireplace you undoubtedly think of your heat source from toasty cinnamon rolls?

And for the "winter blues" your mind drifts to blue skies and bluer beaches, right?

No? Just me? Well I guess I have been spoiled by 80 degree winters and sun that lasts past 3pm. It'll be tough to let go of summer-all-year-round, but I can't deny the itch I have to pelt people with snowballs when I get back to Boston. So I'll sign off now and resume my perch on the beach - refusing to succumb to this cold front. 

Xx, Maia 

Merry Christmukkah

The holidays have now come and almost gone (2 days down, 6 to go for Hanukkah, though), and with it feasts of home-cooked meals and laughter about the good 'ol times. For my family, the holidays are all about coming together, eating a combination of Cuban and Jewish fare (let's say, Jewban), and berating one another with, "Y tu novio?" For those lucky enough to be unfamiliar with the phrase, it translates to "And your boyfriend?" but means "Any men out there? Settling down yet? When are you getting married? Where's the wedding?!" Since I'm the youngest, my older sister used to have to field this interrogation, but now that she actually is engaged, the spotlight is now on me. Resulting in my cousin trying to set me up with her 30 year-old dentist because, "Why not? He's cute!" 

All the set ups aside, the warmth of being with family can't be beat - well, unless it's competing with the weather. At a ripe 80 degrees last night, most guests donned their linens for a Miami twist on a "White Christmas." Given that "s'winter" jokes are always made, the newest and freshest pun I've found this season came from Yashodhara Suri (fellow high school alum & blogger supreme) who astutely noted, "The only wintery thing this December is this (polar)oid." And while I didn't chase people around with my instax mini this time (rather I was too busy trying to orchestrate a Mannequin Challenge that never came to fruition), I did capture some sweet moments that I'd love to share. 

Also, because I've had the good fortune to spend Christmas with family friends for the past four years, I've acquired a favorite holiday caption. You've probably heard it, as it graces almost all social media platforms this time of year, but here it goes:

"'Twas the nizzle before Christmizzle and all through the hizzle not a creature was stirring, not even a mizzle, 'fo shizzle. All were awaiting Sizzle Clause and his bag, to bring the good homies and ladies their swag."

Whether we celebrate the holidays similarly, or extremely differently, I think we can all agree... that the food is a-m-a-z-i-n-g. Because that's what it's all about, right? 

Regardless, though my family is almost entirely Jewish, we do love Christmas time, and are ecstatic that this year Hanukkah coincides with the 25th (don't get me wrong, Hanukkah presents during Thanksgiving are fun too, but this year we get to participate in all of the ~holiday hullaballoo~). 

So, all the way from the Sunshine State, I send my love to all of you, your families, and a happy New Year to come! 

Xx, Maia 

A Weekend at Art Basel

It seems unimaginable that just this morning I woke up in Miami - and now it's snowing outside my window, finals are upon us, and I'm swimming in 600+ photos that prove I did, in fact, play hooky from school to attend Art Basel this year. 

Though I used to go to the exhibits when I was still in high school back in Florida, my developing experiences in the art history world have made this year's trip all the more memorable. While I don't plan on providing you with a formal analysis of the pieces as proxies for whatever they mean, I do wish to share my adventure at Art Basel, and sprinkle some of the highlight photos along the way. 

So brace yourselves for a visual overload, a sensory extravaganza - save the 11,000 steps it took to see it all in person. 

One thing to note from the get go: I don't claim to take better photos of these pieces than you can probably find on Google or a collector's site; rather, I simply want to share with you the way I saw them. Meaning, there are more than just a few slanted shots, probably testaments to the shuffle between booths and the cursory glances of some of the works. Oh! And the fact that after dodging spectator after spectator, sometimes I gave up and made the human obstructions a part of the shot:

After all, upon discovering both instagram accounts @girlsinmuseums and @dressedtomatch (thanks to my Partner in Basel, Alana) the obstruction can even be part of the art. 

And for all the art you weren't really supposed to be a part of, there was a whole corner dedicated to playing with pasta. I kid you not - you could sit down at the greasy table and were, for once in your life, encouraged to play with your food:

Aside from the magnetism of the carbs, I found myself drifting towards all the neon light fixtures - an homage to my childhood fascinations with bright lights and vibrant colors. 

Wording wasn't the only thing brightly displayed at Art Basel: there were plenty of optical installations, namely those of Julio Le Parc (prominently featured currently at PAMM, and part of the content of the next post!). 

And though the galleries obviously boast the main attractions, I couldn't help but notice that the gallerists' workspaces weren't always your standard, foldable chairs. 

At one point, I decided to trail my dad - a man with a history of creativity not often understood by me or the rest of my nuclear family. For context, he would always pick the most bizarre, un-appealing ice cream flavor combinations, and somehow they would taste incredible! So, I figured, if I applied ice cream logic here, what he was drawn to could be those hidden gems. Turns out he fancied corners of benches and hanging who-knows-what - per usual:

But, hey, who am I to knock other people's photos of choice? I mean, my friends and I more than made fools of ourselves at any possible photo op. 

And, before I bombard you with the rest of my visual adventure, I'll sign off - and by sign off I mean resume my reading week responsibilities. Until next year!

Xx, Maia

NYFW: The Beans

Though we've known one another since January (and now live right next door...convenience optimized), this little escape to NYFW was our first chance to truly travel and adventure together! As was to be expected, we discovered even more similarities between us, including but not limited to: our fondness of a piping hot bowl of pasta after a long day, our love for funky book shops (shoutout to BookMarc in the West Village), and our respective obsessions for sweet treats (Kat drowning in ice cream and Maia bathing in banana pudding), among many other qualities. 

We imagine it's best to start off with the snapchats we accumulated during our delayed train ride into the city:

When we finally arrived in New York, you could surely find us noodling around the streets, attempting to stop traffic to cheese for the camera:

We also soaked in all of the authentic, NYC sights, including my, Kat's, stopping to commemorate this splayed rat on the sidewalk: 

(Would this be the right time to make a Kat and mouse joke? We'll let you think of the best one).

We frolicked museums in our spare time. Pictured below are snippets from our jaunt through the Whitney:

Some outrageous purchases were made, including me, Maia, succumbing to the $20 sticker price for this bag of chai tea powder: 

Really, any time food was involved, we pretty much freaked out:

(Below, we see Katherine near tears upon sampling the bounty of flavors from Ample Hills.)

Not sure whether having a spirit-wall is a thing, but this one is definitely mine:

And let us not forget the great shoe change of NYFW 2017 (photo recycled from street style post because it's honestly too good):

Outside some of our shows we were snapped and papped:

We even did some paparazzi of our own as we attempted to immortalize the cute, foreign model that may or may not have chatted us up outside the venue:

Sometimes it was hard to snag that nonchalant street style pic, dodging looks from strangers wondering why we were photographing them. To compensate -- well, actually just because it's fun -- we took pictures of actual street style as well. Street. Style. Get it? Here are some of the buildings that stunned us, clad in rugged red brick or a coat of crisp white paint. 

Oh! And not to mention the adorable, Mod & Bean team pictures we snagged while at the modeling agency of my, Katherine's, cousin:

So, while we may have come off, dare we say, glamorous and chic during our time at NYFW, those were the rarer moments. Cheers to galavanting around NYC and to our future team trips to come!

Xx, Katherine & Maia 

NYFW: The Street Style

So far, you've gotten an inside glimpse at the runway looks and our favorite city eats. Now we're here to share yet another quintessential aspect of fashion week: the killer street style. If you follow fashion week, you know it's as much about what's worn off the runways as what's worn on. For every slideshow of fresh-off-the-catwalk looks, there's a corresponding one for what people wore to the show itself. The fashion week runways practically spill onto the streets themselves, after all, street style is serious business, with the most dedicated of attendees changing outfits three, four, even five times a day. While the Mod & Bean team had neither the space in our carry-ons nor the money to commit to a week of quick-changing, we made our own fair attempt to join the ranks of the street style stars (with a helping hand from Zara, of course). 

Fashion week brings its own special air to the city: transforming bustling streets and empty event spaces into unofficial red carpets for the who's who of fashion: bloggers, A-listers, designers, and lucky beans like ourselves. While our ensembles may have paled in comparison to the couture clad, Birkin-toting fashion insiders, we managed to fool a fair share of street style photographers into thinking we were of moderate importance. Below we've shared our daily looks in addition to some sneaky street style snaps! (Important to note that we highly resisted the temptation to insert some quote about making the world your runway etc).

Day 1

Day one, I, Maia opted for this easy Zara jumpsuit. All the elegance, none of the fuss. (Perfect for noodling around the city and impromptu dance parties in side streets).

You'll also begin to realize that I took the whole "New York Noir" thing quite seriously - ditching my Miami brights and patterns for the slick, all-black ensembles. Motivation? Probably remaining stain free (or the illusion of it), as I did indeed spill coffee on the one white blouse I wore this trip (not pictured because simply tragic). I also found that black is much more forgiving of the sweat that clung to me as we shuffled through Subways and navigated too many flights of stairs with a heavy carry-on in tow. 

For our first day in the city, black was the name of the game. I, Katherine, feel overcome by this sentiment whenever I find myself in the Manhattan bubble. One moment I'm craving summer bohemian or fun feminine style -- draping myself in flowing folds of blush and jewel tones -- and the next thing I know, I'm in New York City, and my wardrobe has unwittingly assimilated, one with that of the effortlessly cool city girl -- monochrome, neutrals, and adidas reign supreme.

Can we also just take a moment to admire this mid-morning light? Having been an on-again, off-again, photographer for going on six years, I, Katherine, am almost always chasing light, whether it's that morning glow or that final, bursting golden hour. Sometimes, there are just those perfectly opportune moments like these ones below. The best things (read: good lighting) come when you least expect it, right?

And then, there's the subway. With it's mushroom-yellow glow and the added benefit of years of built up grime, such photographic conditions prove to be a challenge. Alas, we prevailed over the New York City metro system and caught these shots.

Back up from the underground for some outfit shots in the West Village, where both my, Katherine's, below and my, Maia's, above photos were captured. Tree lined streets, dappled brunch-time light. All black. 

The infamous outfit change! After a day of prancing around the city in my, Katherine's, characteristically black ensemble, I opted for this deep green evening jumper from, you guessed it, Zara. I also found myself the interviewee of a Chinese news station. It's funny to think that there may be a little sound byte of me floating about some thousands and thousands of miles away in China...

Day 2

The day started early with Misha Collection at Skylight on Clarkson Square (a beautiful west river event space). After the show, we snagged some fun candids and style shots in the industrial, ship-yard streets. I, Maia, opted for the cool statement jacket trend, assisted by none other than (do I even say it?) Zara. I, Katherine, attempted the impossible task of dressing for two seasons, opting for this light, summer white top (white after labor day is so a thing) over this cool layered black tweed skirt. I also feel it important to make note that directly after these pictures were taken I kicked off the heels and pranced around (feet beyond thankful) in adidas for the remainder of the day. Happy feet, happy bean.

Below we've included proof of my, Katherine's, shameless switch. Take special note of the effortless flare with which I seek comfort. Don't let it fool you. I was being swallowed by the heat and nearly fell over five times.

Day 3

For our final day in the city some errand running (read: purchasing banana pudding) and a brief stop at the studio of my, Katherine's, cousin was in store. The dress code? Pants and sneaks for optimal mobility (and wiggle room for our engorged cookie/ice cream/banana pudding tummies). 

While outfit posts aren't normally our things, we couldn't help but take advantage of NYFW and see what all of the fashion fun was about. And considering we were literally mobbed with photographers following shows, the Mod & Bean team was determined to look sharp ... and hand out as many business cards as possible (haha). If the fact that we're dividing NYFW into four entirely separate posts isn't evidence enough, we're quite thrilled about our whole experience. Stay tuned for our last installment: the Beans. What to expect? Lots of awkward noodling around the city. Get excited.

Xx, Katherine & Maia

NYFW: The Noms

Let's be honest. When you go to NYC, you do it for the shopping, the sights, and the museums, but mostly you do it for the NOMS. We don't want to make too brash a claim, but we'd dare say the Big Apple is the foodie capital of the world (We mean, it's even in the name). However, finding a place to eat can present a daunting task: with so many choices and such a range of cuisines and prices, it's all too easy to find yourself overwhelmed and in a Ruby Tuesday on Time Square. Fear not. If you ever find yourself in the city, try giving any of these places a go. We promise you won't be disappointed!

Jack's Wife Freda

Locations: West Village, Nolita

Oh, Jack's Wife Freda. For me, Katherine, Jack's is a New York staple, and I was so excited to take Maia here after our first show. The meal couldn't be more quintessentially New York: two beans finishing up their runway debut at Fashion Week with a good ol' mediterranean brunch. The owner, whose quirky and stylish figure brings their instagram account, @jackswifefreda, to life, was even there, walking, feet clad in Miu Miu ballet slippers, amongst tables and chatting with regulars, a red and blue breton striped shirt swung carelessly across her shoulders.

What to order: This particular day I, Katherine, went with Maya's Grain Bowl, and I, Maia, went with the Madame Freda (a rendition of a classic croque monsieur, featuring duck prosciutto). Both were beyond delicious. Looking for other suggestions? The Green Shakshuka, Rosewater Waffle, and Mint Lemonade are all winners.

Photos below by Katherine:

Bô Cà Phé

Location: Nolita

Conveniently situated next to Jack's Wife Freda's Nolita location, we resisted the urge to return for dinner and instead checked out french-vietnamese restaurant, Bó Cá Phê. While the service left something to be desired, there's nothing quite like face planting into a bowl of noodles at the end of a long day.

What to order: We both went with the shrimp rice noodle bowl: sweet and savory shrimp over a bed of cold rice noodles, bean sprouts, carrots, garnish, peanut sauce, and a spring roll. I, Maia, also ordered the chicken bao.

By Chloe

We need to preface this section with the fact that it was quite a feat getting me, Maia, into a vegan restaurant. Ya girl loves meat, potatoes, and all things drowning in cheese. You've also probably seen By Chloe featured in my, Katherine's, instagrams and blog posts far too many times to count and are still wondering what all the fuss is about. While I admit, vegan noms aren't for everyone (though they definitely would be if everyone got to eat here), By Chloe is hands down one of my favorite NYC spots. I could spend hours here eating quite possibly everything on the menu.

What to order: I, Katherine, am a creature of habit and went with my go-to, the Quinoa Taco salad. I also ordered a piece of HEAVENLY chocolate chip banana bread because I lack any and all restraint. (I actually do deserve a pat on the back for resisting the urge to order a side of Mac & Cheese. Though I did end up eating a hefty portion of Maia's...) I, Maia, the devoted meat-lover I am, went for the dubious pesto meatball sub (is it even LEGAL to call this tofu concoction a meatball???) and the mac and cheese (which I'll admit was quite a masterpiece of cashew proportions, yet will sadly never replace a good 'ol cheesy heart-attack in a bowl). While the sub pleasantly surprised me, I'm still not entirely sure about this vegan mac and cheese thing. We both admired the mushroom "bacon" on top, Katherine for the taste, Maia for the effort.

Cha Cha Matcha

Finally a meal we can agree on: Cha Cha Matcha was completely worthy of all of the hype. We have been eyeing this spot, which specializes in Matcha lattes and soft serve, for quite some time and were itching to try one of their towering twists. As evidenced by the odd small-hand-picture below, we quickly demolished our creamy soft serve and resisted the urge to go back for more. 

What to order: Vanilla and Matcha twist, Iced Matcha Latte.

Dudley's

Our final real food stop of the trip (We include the word "real" because following this, we proceeded to buy cookies, banana pudding, and ice cream. Obviously on that Fashion Week diet.), Dudley's, with its edgy corner charm, embodies the up and coming East Village. Following a brief wait, we found ourselves a table outside and relished in our last morning in the city.

What to order: Yogurt & Granola (Definitely order another item if you want to feel tided over), Pancakes, and Juice (I, Katherine, went with The Rocket, and I, Maia, went with a watermelon concoction). The Eggs Benny, Rice Salad, and Shrooms Benedict looked worth coming back for!

Levain

We are avid believers in the following rule: if you go to NYC and don't indulge in one of Levain's infamous cookies, you didn't really visit NYC. This place is worth the wait. Every. Single. Time. Just take a moment to admire that molten chocolate goodness. You know you want every cheat day to look like this. 

What to order: I, Katherine, always go with an oatmeal raisin and a chocolate peanut butter. I, Maia, being my first time here, went with the chocolate chip walnut, the chocolate peanut butter, and the single most chocolaty option for my roommate Leila, because if I visited NYC and didn't bring her back an instant cavity, what kind of roomie am I?

Ample Hills Creamery

Okay, I'll admit it. I will officially go on the record and say that I, Katherine Victoria Harrison, have a minor (read: major) obsession with ice cream. After stalking their instagram account for months, I had been DYING to try Ample Hills Creamery, a Brooklyn-based ice cream shop started by two ice cream lovers who felt that there could always be more cookie dough in cookie dough ice cream. Have you ever ordered a classic cone with say, Cookies n Cream, only to be disappointed by an overall lack of Oreo goodness? Not at Ample Hills. The owners actually say they want people to come back and complain about how jam-packed their flavors are. No complaints here. So good, I did come back, but only for more ice cream.

What to order: I think the question is what does one *not* order. Just google the flavors for yourself. Every single one is eclectic, eccentric, and delicious in their own rights. I, Katherine, went with their Ooey Gooey Butter Cake and Honeycomb flavors, and I, Maia, sampled one flavor (sweet cookie something and cream something) and ate it before I could picture it. So so so delish.

As you might be able to tell, we weren't exactly thinking of our runway bods when noming in the city, but who has time for that when there's ice cream and Levain cookies to be had? If you end up checking out any of these places, be sure to let us know what you think! Also, get excited for the final two installments in our NYFW series: the Street Style and the Beans.

Xx, Katherine & Maia

A Hop Skip to Cincinnati

There are few things for which I'm willing to wake up early enough to catch a morning flight to a different city and be back just after dinner time (aka when all the food spots are closed), but family is definitely one of them. This past week, after I shuffled all of my belongings from Somerville to Cambridge (quite the trek, huh?) and tried to snuggle back into dorm life amidst a non-stop welcoming week for the freshman, I snuck away for a quick day trip to Over The Rhine, Cincinnati, OH to spend my mom's beautiful day of birth with her and my nuclear family. While you might be thinking, "Oh, she's from Miami, Ohio?" I remind you that I'm still flowing with Floridian blood, and the reason the plane flew me to OH instead of MIA is simply that my sister just recently made the move from NYC down to OTR for a year. 

So, for a grand total of about 7 hours, I explored this new city and enjoyed the time with my family all together - as it hadn't happened since my sister's Master's graduation back in May, and won't happen again until Thanksgiving. 

Fresh off the plane, my sister and I drove through the city and paused at Findlay Market to pick up my mom's cake.

As standard little sister protocol, I was left in the car as my sister pulled off to the side to run quickly into the bake shop. This gave me ample time to enjoy the air conditioning before the scorching strolls through OTR, as well as begin to admire the architectural styles that didn't quite resemble anything with which I was familiar. Already armed with my "looking up" perspective and primed with my dad eagerly sending me photos of building corners and doors (probably as frantic proof that he does, indeed read my blog), I set out on the streets of OTR, looking up in awe. Suffice it to say, I enjoyed the colors, textures, and designs that bathed this little neck of the urban woods. 

And what's a trip to a trendy city without tasting their donuts? Holtman's is conveniently near to my sister's apartment, and fusion-y enough to combat the likes of Miami's The Salty Donut and Boston's Union Square and Blackbird Donuts. Fruity pebbles and fluff? Yes, please! 

Even with my limited time in OTR, I managed to squeeze in a quick hug and catch-up with Sara after a long (two week) stretch apart from being roommates! 

As my 8pm takeoff time crept closer, we hurried to celebrate my mom's birthday with a decadent cake that was surprisingly gluten free and dairy free! (Note: Given that I LOVE dairy, and I am reluctant to trust many things sans gluten, I did not expect this rendition of a "German Chocolate Cake" to taste just as heavenly as it actually did. So props to my sister, the healthy daughter, for winning this round). 

Honoring each year of my incredible mom's life with just one candle was definitely not enough for me, but it was more than enough for the fire alarm - hence the frantic fanning of the Airbnb post song and wish. 

While I could've spent a whole week in this city that is reminiscent of a Wynwood (given its varied cultural history coupled with an unfortunate economic decline, and recent rise in youth and popularity) meets Brooklyn style of spot, I had to fly back to Boston to resume my welcoming week duties. Until next time, or the Kentucky Derby, OTR! 

Xx, Maia

Clash of the Art Scenes

So far, you readers have gotten a feel for Miami as a hometown and as a buffet of sorts. Now, in my final post about this beloved, sunny city, I want to ponder the dichotomy that exists in some pockets of Miami's art scene. I'm talking about the modern pop-ups and the more historical treasures that populate the city and contribute to it's overall "fusion" vibe. 

Miami itself is quite a nascent city - fairly young and skipper as opposed to other cities I have come to think of like home (*cough* Boston, I'm looking at you). This means our history is not as deep rooted, giving us room to blossom with diverse amalgamation. Since this topic is quite broad, if not borderline existential, let me narrow the scope. If we were to think of Miami as this new city, perhaps in its 20's as compared to its wiser and weathered city-peers, it would make sense that Miami is in the phase of reinventing herself. (Yes, Miami is a gal - think bronzed skin, beachy hair, and legs for days). She is trying on all of these different hats and vibes, seeing who she'll become as a result of the lives that dwell within her. Granted this metaphor materializes in highways built, the growth of the tourist economy, and other factors that clearly don't apply to your standard 20 year old. But indulge me.  

Before she became the hip, food-truck laden, Art Basel boasting city she is now - she found comfort in the tried and true styles that came before her. Let's use the Viscaya Mansion as an example for this classic period in her life. 

The Viscaya Mansion, formerly Villa Viscaya, used to be home to tycoon James Deering, one of three Deering brothers who also planted their mansion seeds along the drive from Viscaya to my old high school. James Deering, a conservationist, built his home with the intention of preserving local mangroves all along his property. In a present day visit to his estate, you can see the flourishing mangroves all along your walk. Upon Deerings death in 1925, his estate was handed to his nieces who couldn't keep up the cost of maintenance, especially with constant hurricanes rattling the property. Eventually, the city of Miami-Dade acquired the property and restored it to the interactive art museum it is today. 

In a recent trip my friend Sofia and I made to Viscaya, we were impressed with the lushness of the property, it's beauty, and it's expanse - I'm even remembering a particular tower of flights in the mansion and wondering how fit Deering and his visitors must have been to reach all the floors and corners of his estate. 

The mansion itself is roped off in parts like any other living museum. So your dream of seeing if you fit on one of those tiny beds (seriously, was everyone much smaller back in the day?) might not come true on this trip. But you know what dream will come true? You becoming a part of the artwork. Sofi and I could definitely not resist acting out our most statuesque poses in order to "blend" in with Deering's impressive collection. 

Sorry, back on topic. Viscaya is actually a very apt vehicle for this overarching metaphor - the one of Miami being a fusion of old and new. The mansion itself was designed with a European theme, borrowing architectural styles from Italy and France, yet constructed using Cuban materials with Floridian coral trimmings and native vegetation - a ~fusion~ in it of itself, right? 

As expected, the mansion decor is just as opulent as the nature bathing the property. Though there were plenty of signs saying no photos, I took that to mean no flash... so here all of the out of focus vertical shots are the ones I snagged with my slick iPhone skills. 

Overall, my trip to Viscaya helped me transport back to Miami as it was before - as she was before she figured she had to "keep up with the Joneses." (Who is this Jones family and why are they always setting the trends?!)

Anyway, just a few more exits up the highway takes you to the Wynwood Art District, which, as noted in my prior post, is home of Zak the Baker, The Salty Donut, and the seemingly last remainder of a good 'ol Jugofresh now that Whole Foods has swallowed them all up. But, aside from the decadent food coating the area, Wynwood is certainly known for it's eclectic art scene. 

For a little background, Wynwood sprouted as an art inspired/tech focused/certifiable melting pot in the mid 2000's. It is recognized mostly by its ever-changing graffiti - think paintings and pieces covering buildings and facilities, "commissioned chaos" one might say. Wynwood is also a bit of an extension of the fashion/design district of Miami, so you'll definitely see people dressed-to-impress in order to satisfy photos in front of the Wynwood Walls (if not because the people who frolic Wynwood are genuinely cooler than the people who visit Viscaya - sorry to all the girls doing their Quinceñera photoshoots the day I visited Viscaya...).

Though countless tourists may now take for granted what negotiations went behind cleaning up this neighborhood and transforming it into a pedestrian gallery, we have Tony Goldman to thank for it all. Goldman, who passed away in 2012, was a property developer who had visions for the potential of areas like this one, and opened up restaurants to encourage traction. He bought up all the properties, comprised mostly of warehouses, since Wynwood used to be a garment district, and figured he could make one of the largest, walking, outdoor galleries if he teamed up with local artists. And that, my friends, is exactly what he did. He had the foresight to turn windowless buildings into actual blank canvases and fostered relationships with the local artists to build respect for these platforms and circumvent vandalism. Given that story, what Wynwood has become today is all the more impressive. 

From the Wynwood to the Walls (thank you Lil John and The Eastside Boyz for setting up my pun), this sector of Miami definitely embodies the modern phase of Miami - the phase she, as a city, is definitely vibing since it brings visitors from all over the world to her concrete yard. 

So, while Miami from a Birdseye view might seem like a battle between modernity and antiquity, I'd have to disagree. I'd say this artistic conflict is only another materialization of the dichotomies that make Miami the unique city that she is. From the food, to the people, to the culture, to the art, Miami fuses it all and that is yet another reason that I am incredibly proud to call it my home. 

Xx, Maia

Mod Meals: Miami Eats

It's almost the middle of the summer, and somehow I've transitioned from my tranquil Miami life to a comically hectic Boston routine (save the countless bruises and scratches from bike snafus with curbs, poles, and any other collision that causes public embarrassment). Sitting in my apartment after work and nomming on the abundance of fruit I bought before it goes bad, has me reminiscing about all of the Miami meals that were just a drive away from the house. Miami has a knack for keeping things colorful, fresh, and fusion-y, and the food is no exception. Though I've grown up going to the same few restaurants (shoutout to Roaster's and Toaster's), I've also been in the city long enough to find new sweet spots that are hailing modern cuisine. So, in an attempt to cure my nostalgia and simultaneously make myself ravenously hungry for dinner, here are some of my favorite bites - and if you ever find yourself in Miami, do yourself a favor and check these out (on your way to or from the beach of course). 

Playa Paradise

I figure I'll start off with just a snacking tip that I've discovered over my years living by the pool and frequenting the beach. Yes, I love piña coladas and getting caught in the rain, but let's skip out on the rain and add some cheesy fries instead, for any and all of your aquatic adventures. I understand this might be a ridiculous combination, but if you know me at all, you are well aware of my love for potatoes, cheese, and frothy beverages. So, while this might not be your favorite meal of this post, it might actually be mine. Serving size: yours and the seagulls'. 

Greenstreet Goodies

In a luscious sector of Miami, a few of my favorite restaurants have sprouted and blossomed. I'm talking about three places in particular, all located in Coconut Grove. First, let's talk Greenstreet Cafe. I've probably been eating here since before I could hold a fork, so I've definitely got my go to meal locked and loaded. It consists of their fluffy red velvet pancakes (yes, for breakfast not dessert) and some eggs bathed in cheddar and sprinkled with the most melt-in-your-mouth potatoes in the city. I kid you not, I have often ordered sides on sides of these potatoes, and even have a polaroid photo of them hanging in my dorm room. Serving size: share if you can, except with your one friend who is allergic to red food coloring of course - in that case, just save it all for yourself ;) 

Lokal but not low cal

This second Grove treasure, Lokal, is actually a recent addition for me. I have been hearing about a "heart attack" burger from several people, and have had it described as a burger bunned between two glazed donuts! Yes, please! (I hope you start realizing I'm not the Kale-iest of eaters). But, upon dragging a bunch of friends to dine with me and be witnesses should I actually require medical assistance from this heart exploding dish, I was even more impressed with the actual fare. This "Childhood Dream" burger also came with the crispiest, candied bacon. And, let me tell you, it definitely lived up to the hype. Serving size: a guilty pleasure for one, but not for the faint of heart. 

Sweet, Bianco Gelato

After that heart attack burger, what's better than washing it down with some creamy, organic gelato? Cue Bianco Gelato in the Grove. It's a quaint little gelato shop with the funkiest of feel-good flavors. My friend's friend actually used to own it (that whole five degrees of separation theory? Definitely a thing in Miami). This time I got a flavor that I could barely pronounce, so my recommendation would be to find the longest name on the menu and order two scoops. Serving size: you could be flirty for two or intelligently selfish for you and you alone. 

Zak the (Bae)ker

From Coconut Grove let's travel to Wynwood - one of the city's most "happening" places in art, tech, and grub. While it would take me an entire other post to taste all of Wynwood's offerings, I'm just going to talk about my "must-go-snack-here-whenever-i-visit-Miami" spots. Zak the Baker is a kosher bakery with the most rich, crumbly, and flavorful pastries/dishes. Their menu changes daily, if I recall correctly, so each visit is a surprise - each treat equally as tasty so don't worry! I always opt for a sweet snack (think cashew butter and cinnamon, freshly made jam, or strawberries and cream) on one of Zak's hand-made breads. Peep a quiche in one of these photos too - if my friend Leila hadn't completely devoured it, I would've loved to have tried it and give it my stamp of approval. They also sell these incredible chocolate cookies baked with sea salt, check 'em out! And don't forget to rinse your palette with some of their fresh juice! Serving size: you think you're going to share but it becomes evident you won't. 

The Salty, and super long line, Donut

The Salty Donut is one of those hip and trendy pop up food trucks. It has been recently gaining stead, so my rumbling stomach prompted the trip to try it for myself. I actually went on National Donut Day (only to sadly turn around after a 35 min drive because they sold out early) and again the next day (only to wait in a 45 min line in the scorching Miami heat). But, when I tell you they had a Bacon donut, "spiked" donut holes, and even a gluten-free chocolate option, you'd opt for the farmer's tan-inducing wait as well. Serving size: you'll order one of each and tell your mom you'll share, but she doesn't believe you, so she gets her own box. 

Jugofresh for some fresh jugo

Jugofresh, though not exclusively a Wynwood gem, is a Miamian's go to for a healthy but happy and refreshing snack. I used to order their smoothies, but once I hopped on the açai bowl train, try to pry me off. I am very much a creature of habit (hence often times ordering the same dish at the same restaurant for 19 years), so the only bowl I order is dubbed the Sunset Harbor Açai bowl. Insider tip: ask for extra brazil nut crumble. And, while I'm disheartened that they've closed almost all of their shops in order to become a sector of the Whole Foods chain (find them in the old juice section, RIP) I will travel to wherever they go in order to get my fresh fix. Serving size: the bowls are huge so unless you haven't eaten all day, you'll probably need to freeze it and nom on it later. 

Threefold, THE brunch & chat hub

I discovered Threefold Cafe at the end of last summer, so I could only dine there once - but I have continued to dream of its dishes. I went back to Threefold for another round of their delicate, vanilla waffles over winter break, and perfectly coupled this meal with a side of "eggies" and much needed gossip. This summer, I think I went to Threefold every week I was home, and surprisingly found a new favorite: they call it the "Not So French Toast." This name aptly describes the soft bread bathed in eggs and sandwiched over prosciutto and ricotta, with bacon crumbles dusted on top. Ask for some bourbon syrup and happily eat your way into a food coma. I also tried their tower of guava pancakes and was both overwhelmed by the size of the stack and by the flavor birthed at each bite. Serving size: depending on how much gossip you have to catch up on, your food will get cold if you're talking and don't share. 

Knaus your ordinary Berry

Knausberry Farms, while not even technically in Miami (because of the hefty drive down south), nor a spot I travelled to this summer, is home to fond memories for almost all Miami natives. I'm including it in this post as a place to look forward to when I come home in the winter, for it will finally be strawberry season! (Read with giddy excitement). During strawberry season, Knausberry opens up its fields for the pickings. So bust out your cutest overalls, drive top down with all of your friends, and reward yourself with their legendary cinnamon rolls and strawberry shakes. Serving size: for once, the more the merrier, and I mean it! 

Now that I've worked up quite the drool over all of these truly mod Miami meals, I should probably go make dinner and satisfy my hunger. If you found yourself salivating at these photos as much as I did, do us both a favor and go snack at some of these spots when you visit Miami. Or, better yet, just go to Miami for these foods. 

Xx, Maia 

The Madness that is Manus x Machina

Approximately 3,394 miles separate the two of us this summer, as Katherine gallivants around Spain for her study abroad program and Maia frolics through the Boston suburbs for her internship. Though distance and a hefty time difference keep us apart, we sought a way to stay connected that was more powerful than sporadic texts and sweet comments on each other’s Instagram photos: We went to Manus x Machina at the MET. Not together, unfortunately. Rather, weeks apart. But knowing we both traversed those hallowed halls and ogled at the same garments made us feel back as a team, with one view, one take away. Almost as if we were at one of our classic Crema Cafe meetings, sipping on hot chocolates, snacking on pastries, and laughing about how we always think of the same things.

The improbable task of writing this joint post over Google Drive and Whatsapp has made us realize we are more alike than we previously imagined. We both walked away from this exhibit, curated by Andrew Bolton, with oddly similar thoughts, vibes, and commentary. Without further ado, this is what we saw and what we have to say about it ― a cross-ocean commune of thoughts and sentiments:

Upon entering, we weren't exactly sure what we expected, and the exhibit offered far more than we anticipated — by sheer volume, size, categorization, and grandiosity.

The exhibit begins with the famous wedding ensemble by Karl Lagerfeld for the House of Chanel. Worn as a finale piece by none other than Cara Delevingne and made of a scuba material, baring a train whose pixelated print was extended some twenty feet for the exhibition, the dress provides the ideal platform for which to showcase the dichotomy of the exhibit, that is, between man and machine. While the gown constituted the signature piece for an equally signature Chanel collection, it was not necessarily couture in the traditional sense (note the plaque’s quote from Lagerfeld describing the dress as, “haute couture without the couture”), in that it did not require the hours of intensive hand labor characteristic of couture fashion. In fact, the dress was nearly entirely of machine creation, the crux lying in the fact that it was birthed, ultimately, of the human mind.

Though the wedding dress occupied its own spacious, dome-shaped room, the remainder of the pieces seemed rather cramped in the narrow and dimly lit concentric hallways (and this is why we ask you to excuse the blurriness of some of our photos ― the low lighting and fighting of elbow jabs didn’t make for prime photographic conditions). Other than this human to human physicality, the main backdrop of the exhibit is a choral ensemble of sorts ― an oddly pious and holy sounding "ohm" that seems more in place at a church as opposed to an exhibit on fashion. The cathedral music paired with the sheer beauty of the pieces lent to an overwhelmingly spiritual experience for the both of us. Then again, that may have been the exhibit's intention — to stretch beyond the physical platform of fashion and couture and to define the intersect between man and machine, technology and antiquity, in a worldly sense. Regardless, the music built perhaps the greatest contrast in its being the soundtrack to the chaos that surrounded and filled the exhibition: the crowds, the narrow corridors, the somewhat burdensome demanding of one's attention. If fashion is for the consumer, it seems that the consumer was now the consumed — we were entrenched both in art and in obligation.  

For us, this feeling of obligation had a profound effect on the overall flow of the exhibit. We felt ourselves caught in an ambivalent state between viewing and photographing. Both desiring to take the exhibit in and to still document it, we ended up viewing much of it through our lenses ― just as the myriad people around us were: locked behind phone screens and camera viewfinders. Such an unfortunate realization captured the very essence of the exhibit. Man and machine, the intersection, the consumption. In this case, machine consumed man. No longer were we free to peruse at our own ease and pleasure, rather, we were caught behind our iPhones and in between the shoulders of countless strangers.

(Side note from Maia: when I left the MET, I was walking behind two schoolgirls, around age 10 at max, in matching uniforms, skipping and singing the most ominous song: “I’m being swallowed by a boa constrictor and I don’t like it very much.” The song, while terrifying had this occurred at night or in a horror movie, seemed to aptly echo my sentiments about tourist centric claustrophobia that I of course added to nonetheless.)

However, we did not allow the cramped quarters and 'rat race' quality of the exhibition to entirely jade our viewing of its constituent pieces, as it ultimately was an incredible experience. (We couldn't help but imagine how beautiful it might be to see a runway showing featuring an amalgam of all of the garments). We loved the organization of the exhibit; the rooms and pieces were divided thematically ― pleats, prints, dyes, so on ― so as to highlight the process, specifically the genesis (or lack there of) it has undergone with the advent of mechanization, behind each's construction. We were surprised, namely, by the florals. Florals for Manus x Machina? Groundbreaking. If you, our readers, recall our Met Gala review post, we found ourselves slightly confused at the inclusion of floral ensembles amidst the Gala's more futuristic garbs. However, upon viewing the floral pieces in their intended exhibit, thus witnessing their place on the spectrum of man and machine, we finally understand that the florals fit the theme quite well, quite seamlessly if you will. The flowers adorning most of these pieces were sculpted using gelatin in order to increase malleability and stability. They were crafted using multi step processes like metal presses and cold water baths. In the end, most were hand sewn on to their base in order to both anchor the flowers to one another and secure them to the final piece. Through the exhibition, we came to see the flowers in a different light ― one that underscored the delicate balance between man and machine. Manus x Machina was not an exhibit on futuristic fashion, a tribute to automaton-like pieces, it was a tribute to the method and technique that goes behind modern couture, a tribute to the malleability not only of flowers adorning gowns but of ideas, notions, and concepts ― how the very meaning of couture changes as technology improves, as the overlap between man and machine becomes even more ambiguous.  

Overall, pushing aside the cramped quality of the space itself, we left with a truer understanding of the exhibit’s intended dichotomy. As the introduction states:

“Instead of presenting the handmade and the machine-made as oppositional, this exhibition suggests a spectrum or continuum of practice, whereby the hand and the machine are equal and mutual protagonists in solving problems, enhancing design practices, and advancing the future of fashion.” - MET plaque

We initially expected the exhibit to be a showcase of dresses indicative of mechanization and the future (think Jordan Dunn’s metallic gown and other robotic homages). But really, the exhibit was meant to showcase the process as much as, if not more than, the product. While the flow of the exhibit felt rushed at times (in the sense that we could only dedicate some five seconds looking at a piece before being shuffled on to the next) we felt ecstatic to have gone and seen it ― especially considering it gave us the overarching feeling of being together, even when many, many miles apart.

Xx, Katherine & Maia

Growing Up Where Most Vacation

A little slice of paradise during my staycation.

Today, I write with just five short days left in Miami. I've spent four warm weeks in my summer haven, soaking up all of the sun, salt, and sand before I head back up to Boston for a 9-week internship (cue becoming an adult!). In these four weeks that I've been home, I've been more like a tourist than usual; constantly clutching my camera like a newborn and toting it around town in order to document all of my adventures. As I procrastinate packing my bags, I am reflecting on all the classic Miami activities I've loaded into my time here and smiling as I realize how fortunate I am to have grown up in this eclectic city. And here's why:

I present to you, readers and lovers of summer, my favorite things about the 305, my home, my paradise - save a few more in depth adventure stories coming later (think: Wynwood, Viscaya Museum & Gardens, and all the good eats Miami has to offer). 

The first thing many people ask when they hear I'm from Miami is if I live on the beach. For the sake of saving face with my actual beach-based friends, my answer is no, I do not live on the beach. In fact, I laugh as I recall the many years I despised the beach: the feeling of gritty sand in all the places it shouldn't be, the dry sensation of salt ingrained in my skin, and the painful knots in my hair after a dip in the ocean. You can even ask my dad about this. He'll chuckle upon remembering having to carry a stubborn toddler from the shore to the car in an effort to avoid getting even a grain of sand on her precious feet. 

But, at a ripe nineteen years of age, I can say that I've actually now grown fond of the beach - probably because I've been deprived of it all year. There's something that rings true to the saying, "you don't know what you've got till it's gone." Yes, the beach can be scorching and sticky under all those coats of sunscreen (fact: I burn, not tan, and yes, I am a disgrace to my Miamian blood as I don a ghostly glow instead of a tropical tan all summer), however, being able to swim in clear, warm waters whenever the fancy strikes me, I admit, is a treat I've taken for granted. 

My beautiful friend Maria who lives more at the beach than at her house. 

I now realize that what I'll probably miss most when I leave Miami is the ease and ability to take a spur of the moment trip for a good swim anywhere along the coast, from SoBe to the Keys - I am a pisces after all. 

If I am to be completely honest though, what really makes these aquatic adventures even better are the snacks! I'm not talking about the meals at Zak the Baker or Threefold Cafe (but stay tuned for those mouthwatering food pics in upcoming posts), rather, gourmet goodies we bring with us from Publix, a true hometown treasure. 

If you've ever met a Floridian, you know they possess an intense pride for Publix - a local grocery chain that is much more than what it sounds like. To follow this train of thought: trips to Publix, "where shopping is a pleasure," are in fact one of the favored activities of any true Floridian. To give you background: everyone has a neighborhood Publix and none of them are the same. Try finding the pasta aisle in your friend's Publix - hah, it's nearly impossible. Is it inefficient to have radically different Publix layouts for each store, you ask? Nope, not at all. I'd argue that it is part of the ~charm~.

Alexa and I demonstrating how Publix brings out our inner child. 

What is comforting is that your Publix is yours and yours alone (plus everyone else that lives in the nearby radius), a truly unique childhood spot and unlike any other location. It's somehow comforting to have been shopping at the same grocery store since you could walk, be able to go back to it after months away, and still manage to travel the route to the cheese section by memory, or not even having to look up when grabbing that can of soup because it's been in the same spot since your Publix opened it's doors. Whereas going to your friend's neighborhood Publix, though not as seamless of a trip as usual, is like learning a whole new language. It doesn't replace your mother tongue, but it's enjoyable to expand your repertoire. 

A photo capturing my love for cheese and Publix. 

If it's not readily apparent to you, I love Publix. I love running into old friends and their parents, hearing the latest gossip while waiting in the notoriously slow deli section line - extra time for chismes? I'll take it! Aside from the famed Publix subs (confession: I've never had one...), what I love most about Publix is that everyone knows you and has seen you grow up. It's like family, but with SO much food (the best combo - in my opinion). Oh! And one more thing: there is a supposed Publix phenomenon regarding attractive bag boys. Every homegrown Floridian girl has had a crush on a Publix bag boy at one point or another - I can guarantee it. Not only have I heard stories from Floridian friends over the years, but even last week some of my friends mentioned they had their eye on a good looking fellow who graciously helped carry their groceries to their car. Publix, where shopping is truly a pleasure. 

Peep the catchphrase! 

Anyway, aside from beaches and Publix (two of the most Miami-centric topics aside from Calle Ocho), I must mention a brief appreciation for our local flora and fauna. If I had to pick the most lush spot in the city, aside from the gorgeous Fairchild Botanical Garden, it would have to be a particular stretch of Old Cutler Road right before it hits the Cocoplum Circle. This part of the street is warmly enveloped by tons of trees, forming a natural tunnel that is so comforting it's like driving through a hug. While I tried my very best to photograph this metaphor, I'm not quite sure if the photos I took, while dangling out the passenger side window, really do it justice:

Other than all the palm trees, orchids, and other vegetation, another notable part of Miami nature is the abundance of tropical critters. I have never seen more peacocks in my life than on my front lawn, or more iguanas roaming free than at a little beach in Key Largo. The peacocks are fairly harmless - mostly just napping on the rooftop of my old Volkswagen Bug. The iguanas, on the other hand, are more menacing than one would think. 

Just another cute lil Floridian birdie.

In an effort to squeeze in one last staycation before I left Miami, my family, friends, and I took a weekend trip down to the Keys. This included stopping at the Southernmost point of Florida - an emotional moment for my mom as this is the closest tip of the United States to Cuba (her motherland) - as well as sweating through some family beach volleyball.

But, none of that good 'ol family camaraderie will imprint as vivid of a memory as what happened to my friend Val as we ate a beachside lunch on Sunday. All of us were lounging under a beach tiki and nomming on burgers, fish tacos, and fries when we heard Valerie shriek. Our heads whipped to her direction only to spot an iguana pounce on her lap in an effort to steal her buns (the burger kind). Val threw her burger in the air and then fell off her chair as the iguana crawled up her body. Surviving with just a scratch on her knee from falling on the nearby cement steps, Val was traumatized - and we were all cackling, once we ensured she was okay of course. Our waitress witnessed the whole incident, and brought Val a fresh burger on the house. Though there were no pictures of the actual attack, the only proof I can provide you is this shot of Val's burger splayed all over her bag and this picture of the receipt warranting her free meal:

I guess not all iguanas were as friendly and photogenic as this one I found. 

Other than the iguana incident, my time in Miami has been smooth sailing. Being able to catch up with hometown friends, eat home-cooked meals or classic restaurant favorites, and soak up days of Vitamin D has been truly nutritious and refreshing. And now I think I'm ready to say goodbye to my childhood paradise and embark on my next adventures in Boston as a working girl. 

Keep up with Mod & Bean as I post more in depth reviews of my time in Wynwood, Viscaya, etc. as well as the countless adulting stories I'm sure I'll accumulate in the weeks to come! 

Xx, Maia