Tag: slow down

10 Reasons The Quiet Place Is the Ideal Getaway

I’m here today to let you in on a little secret. Perhaps it’s a poorly kept secret, as I keep discovering more people amidst my own network who are familiar with this Upstate New York gem — but, even then, it feels like we’re part of a really cool club. And I want more of you to get to experience it.

The Quiet Place Getaways are a group of properties nestled in prime locations throughout the Finger Lakes region. As the name promises, the focus is on quiet — you’ll have plenty of space to yourself and feel encouraged to slow down and appreciate your surroundings.

The accommodations range in size to suit anywhere from 2-6 people. Solo retreats are also an option (mostly at the 2-person properties; occasionally at a larger one, depending on availability). I highly recommend this for writers and any other creative types. It’s immensely productive!

The business of bookings and communications is centrally managed by a lovely husband-and-wife team, but each property is individually owned. They’re like a family, each member with its own unique personality and strengths. I don’t know if there’s a certain checklist to be included in the group, but there’s clearly a certain standard to be maintained, a particular vibe shared amongst them so that, browsing the properties, you quickly get a sense of the brand. Not just any place would make the cut.

I’ve been blessed to stay at several of these properties in recent years, and maybe I’ll write about the others another time, but first and foremost I need to tell you about the Naples Chalet, my favorite of the bunch. (Sorry, others; you’re great too!) This place played a critical role in the drafting and revising of my first book, provided a safe getaway during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, and unexpectedly became a place for healing when I sprained my foot the night before one of my stays.

Coming here feels like nestling into my own little oasis. I walk up the gravel path, an expansive view rolling forth as I round the corner, where I always need to pause to breathe deeply and take it in. Standing here, I feel very small in the most moving way — there is so much to see and smell and hear, the open air stretched out endlessly before me, just from this one little spot. (That’s Canandaigua Lake visible just over the treetops.)

This view, walking up to the Naples Chalet, gets me every time.

Throughout my stay, I feel assured that every need has been thoughtfully addressed — and yet I’m left entirely to my own devices, in the best sense of the phrase. (And the best of both worlds for an introvert like me!) I don’t have to talk to anyone upon checking in, stand in a crowded elevator with chlorine-scented children dripping from a pool, or worry about neighbors having their TV on too loud or slamming their doors in the middle of the night.

While details vary across the properties, the general vibe and the goals are the same, with a focus on relaxing and recharging.

So, with some details here specific to my beloved Naples Chalet, here are 10 reasons why you should consider The Quiet Place for your ideal getaway.

1. It’s QUIET! You’re unlikely to cross paths with any other people while at your stay. If there are other houses anywhere in the vicinity, there’s some sort of unspoken understanding that this is a place for peace, calming, and reflection.

2. At the same time, it’s close to great food, wineries, trails, shops, and more. Naples, Canandaigua, and Bristol are a short drive, so if you want to be among people and find things to do, you’ll have plenty of options.

3. Beautiful views, surrounded by nature, are a standard accommodation. Every property has some combination of deck, porch, sunroom, and/or fire pit, to encourage you to soak up your surroundings.

4. Most properties have a hot tub and/or a soaking tub inside, for an added element of melting away your stress.

5. It’s well stocked with amenities — you’re away from it all but by no means roughing it. You’ll have that “off the grid” feeling while still having electricity, plumbing, heat / AC, and Wi-Fi!

6. The décor is gorgeous and creative, with so many fun little gems to discover. I love walking slowly around the Naples Chalet to see what touches have been added since my last stay. It demonstrates how much the owners care for their properties.

7. Likewise, there are always thoughtful hostess touches. When I step inside the Naples Chalet, I’m greeted by piano music playing softly from the stereo across the room, like I’ve just walked into a spa. Flowers and Hershey kisses grace the table. There are welcoming details at every turn: flyers and coupons for local restaurants and wineries, bottled water, and more fresh flowers in the bathroom and on the deck.

8. It’s the ideal atmosphere whether for a solo retreat (for me, focused writing and marketing time), a couple’s getaway, or catching up with friends. Slowing down and simplifying is a natural catalyst for reconnecting.

My workstation while at the Naples Chalet. I feel like I’m in a treehouse.

9. You’re working with a small group of local people for booking and during your stay, providing great communication and helpful guidance. They can talk you through which property is best for you or what to do while you’re in the area.

10. For all of this, the price is the same as (or less than!) what you’d pay for a nice hotel room — and you’re getting an entire experience.

All of this adds up to a justified investment in myself — my work, my mental health, my overall wellbeing.

I always leave a Naples Chalet stay wishing it could have lasted a bit longer and hoping I can carry home with me the sense of renewal and restoration it’s granted me. As I walk back along the gravel path, I again pause by the Adirondack chairs to take in that view one more time, breathe deeply, and meditate a moment on a flooding warmth of gratitude.

A Dream in Which I Tell Myself “I Would Do Anything for You”

I keep thinking about a dream I had several months ago. It was brief and blurry, but one element has remained persistently clear: I was sitting across from myself [a clone? A reflection? That part I’m not sure of, but there were two distinct yet identical presences of me], and the self that I embodied said to the other, reassuringly, matter-of-factly, “I would do anything for you.”

The caring was instinctive, deeply rooted, the way I feel in my waking hours about my boyfriend, my family, and my dearest friends — a level of protectiveness and pride I feel especially about my nieces and nephews: I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. You are strong and beautiful and talented. I believe in you. I’m here for you anytime. I love you beyond words.

Why don’t I treat myself that way?

Well, a couple months ago, several weeks after having had that dream and having it echo in my mind since, my self-care and -compassion were put to the test.

In one simple misstep, I slipped and fell in the yard, landing with one leg curled awkwardly beneath me and my foot bearing the weight of the rest of me collapsing. I’ve replayed that moment countless times since, as if I could retroactively change my footwear or my armload of stuff or whatever it was I stepped on that caused my foot to slip, and each time I’m struck by the notion that I had no idea in that instant how it would ripple out to affect the entire trajectory of my summer and my physical and mental health.

I don’t intend this to be a pity party nor to belabor the details, so I’ll give the abridged version:

  • The sprained foot led to a blood clot in my leg, which has continued to cause periods of swelling and discomfort as well as send my anxiety and depression on a seemingly endless roller coaster.
  • The prescribed blood thinner required me to stop taking another medication that had long been very helpful for me and left me scrambling for an alternative, none of which have proven satisfactory.
  • It was a hot summer to have one leg encased in a boot brace — although that brace has been a godsend in allowing me much better mobility than I had for the first few days, during which I couldn’t put weight on the foot without intolerable pain.
  • This whole experience has been an eye-opener as to how many elements of my typical day are not easily accessible, with any stairs, gravel, or hills leaving me unsteady at best and at times incapable of navigating without help. That is to say it’s opened my eyes to how very much I was taking for granted before.

The dream was not a stretch in that I have long been one to talk to myself — even out loud, even in public — but this too has now been manifesting in new, gentler ways: “We’ve got this,” I’ll say to myself. [We?! As if, again, there are two of us in the conversation!] “Okay, here we go. One step at a time.” I am aware that I am someone in need of caring and more willing to give myself that care than probably ever before. As I step slowly in and out of the shower or turn gingerly to rinse my hair, as I stretch my cramped-up calf muscle, as I climb into bed and appreciate the shedding of a long day, I am carrying myself differently, with more awareness, patience, and forgiveness.

While I wish it hadn’t taken an injury for this slowing-down to happen and I’m eager to start feeling more like myself again, I hope that as I continue to heal I can maintain this new perspective.

And I wish it for all of you, too — without the dramatic catalyst! Let’s adopt an attitude of showing up for ourselves. We need it more than we may realize.

Photo by Hassan OUAJBIR, downloaded from Pexels