Golf, mega-spa, tennis, dogs, kids, pools, water slides, work retreats… The Broadmoor is where my fam reunion was at!

I am not a big Colorado person. It’s too high, and too crunchy, and too outdoorsy and altogether healthy for me, but since the rest of the fam was going, I tagged along. My skin was mummified in about three seconds, and even as we were landing, I could feel the moisture leaching out of all my pores. Champagne the first night led to a massive headache, and I thought to myself, would Miraval have been so wrong?

So there we were, 5 stars and 5 diamonds and 6000 feet up in the Rockies at this uber resort. The menfolk among us got up at the crack of dawn to chase down birdies and tees, and we women luxuriated in the gi-NOR-mous spa complete with a whole room just for aromatherapy, and another for oxygen because we certainly frickin’ needed some.

My limo driver told me that the property is where The Shining was filmed, so I was psyched for some spooky, Gothic edge to the sun-kissed UBS group, wound-up wedding parties and packs of poodles traipsing through both lobbies. But alas, he was wicked mistaken. The property that actually inspired Stephen King when he stayed there was The Stanley Hotel, which features the movie on a continuous loop in all the rooms! Yeesh!

Me and dad had a beautiful time with all my fabulous cousins and aunt and uncle. The food? Not that great, although being from San Francisco, when is travel food ever acceptable? The property is gorgeous with a swan-filled lake as its centerpiece. Three cheers for waterslides at the lovely pool. And the rooms were very very pretty (humidifiers available, mummies!).

This is a place for thinking big–a massive work retreat, an entire family reunion, a wedding.

And definitely LEAVE THE PROPERTY! There is so much beauty around that to stay in the sanctuary of the mega-resort is to miss out. Who knew that PIKES PEAK was here?

Stephanie’s Favorite Off-Property Offerings:

1. THE GOLDEN BEE!! This awesome piano sing-along bar across the street from the ‘moor but still owned by the hotel is kick-ass! Sing favorite tunes, order a yard of beer, and get covered in bees! The waitstaff will throw bee stickers at you till you’re practically a hive! What’s not to love? This is one of my most favorite bars ever. Nice job requesting “All My Exes Live in Texas” cousin Kelly!

2. MANITOU SPRINGS–this peaced-out hippie enclave is a nearby town whose streets run rainbow with tie-dye and barefoot hula-hoop girls abound on every corner. Stock up on hemp and fuel up on organic coffee. It’s high-altitude Berkeley! How fun for an afternoon of shopping!

3. GARDEN OF THE GODS–a geological thingy that is very pretty with like rock formations and red rocks and has a visitor center and such.

4. RED ROCKS–the ultimate in scenic concert venues. Check the listings for your faves.

5. JEEP TOUR/ SCAVENGER HUNT/ BALLOON RIDES–for some forced bonding of a big group, a means to getting off the shelter of your resort property, and just for some big, ol’ fun, book an excursion! We did a scavenger hunt with some outlaw buckaroos at the helm! We kids split up into teams and hit the trails learning about area history while getting a good overview of the sites. My team came in dead last, dagnabit!

Whew, gosh bless sea level! I’m so HAPPY to be home!

Museums overflow in excellence! SFMOMA re-introduces us to Frida Kahlo, that icon of expressive, surrealist sufferings. Then over at the Legion of Honor, we take a fascinating look at Women Impressionists. Try to name 3. I bet you can’t! (I couldn’t before this woman-cational exhibit!!) And finally the prolific eye-patched glass pirate that is Chihuly over at the De Young. Whew, I need a non-nicotine nor tar-filled cigarette!

San Francisco museums are doing a great job of honoring women artists. Are you feeling the Diva love from your local museums? If not, write a letter! Fill out one of them suggestion box cards. Let your local galleries and museums know how you feel!

* * *

Firstly Frida: Physical and psychic pain from a bus accident to the constant infidelities of her husband, Diego Rivera, led her to attack bold canvases with the livid, vivid, soul-ripping visions that catapulted her to fame. While in her lifetime often merely referred to as Diego’s pretty wife, her legacy has captured so many in its unapologetic intimate effrontery that the SFMOMA had to institute special late hours and timed tickets to meet the expected deluge of fans! Viva Frida!

Women Impressionists: Mary Cassatt perhaps you’ve heard of, but what about Berthe Morisot (that’s French for Bertha), Eva Gonzales and Marie Bracquemond? Shown together for the very first time in the United States, Women Impressionists is a groundbreaking look at four female Impressionists who take on not only the regular ol’ themes but also give us a rare glimpse into home and hearth. What a fascinating and unusual exhibit!

Chihuly: Look up at the Bellagio ceiling in Vegas. That’s where I first met this behemoth of blown glass. Then I met him in person at the press preview! OMG! His comprehensive exhibit at the De Young is simply stunning. Neon brings glass to life in eerie forests of light, and to further meld the organic with the inorganic, Chihuly brought a hundred or so of his collection of Native American blankets strewn in a room that defies the psychedelic multi-colored forests of his other creations. Wow!

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And then there was the wildly crowded, how-can-I-get-a-drink launch party of 944 Magazine here in SF with Macy Gray on the turntables. Who knew she DJ’ed?? From Tempe to the 280, Vegas to Beverly Hills, 944–that glossy lifestyle magazine–takes on another city. We’re not sunburned, strippy or scene-y, so I wonder how they will fit into our low-key culture? From the looks of the red carpet last night, I think they’re a-okay…

It’s almost too much culture for one Diva in a week! Photos courtesy of Pearl Dworkin and Zarah Gulamhusein. And thanks to my museum club buddies–Liza Sonia and Mona Brooks.

Poker, pool, table tennis, car racing, fighting…boy-only arenas? Sports of obscurity? Not no more! Meet the ladies who give silly boys a run for their money, and watch how that old sex-sells mantra can launch ho-hum sports back into the public eye!

Danica Patrick
Earlier this spring, Danica went all out and became the first woman EVER to win an open-wheel IndyCar race at the Indy Japan 300. Keep up with this high octane Diva at www.danicaracing.com.

Chicks of the Chips
The recent May ‘08 purchase of now-defunct Woman Poker Player magazine is a sign o’ the times.

So says the magazine’s publisher, Maryann Morrison: “Woman Poker Player magazine was founded as a vehicle for the encouragement of women to play poker. At that time women were only representing about ten percent of live players, and this is no longer the case.”

“We all know women are fierce poker players and have substantially grown in numbers over the past two years. It is not a progressive step for women to have segregation in poker since everyone can play on an equal basis.”

WOW! On poker website’s Fast Facts, just above their pick for the classiest strip club in Vegas, is a mention of Annette Obrestad, first woman to win a Main Event bracelet in 2007. Now that’s the way to get jewelry from men–beat ‘em to it!

Other Annie Oakley outlaws ante-ing up in the big leagues include Barbara Enright, Jen Harman, Kathy Liebert, Annie Duke, Joanne Liu and more!

Hellions of the Hall…Pool, That Is
My dad speaks reverantly about the Black Widow, pool prodigy Jeanette Lee. Having sat with my dad wondering why on earth anyone would watch this stuff, I immediately perked up when she came on the scene. Gorgeous, dressed in black, and appearing uber confident like she’s already beaten all these fools, I was an insta-fan. So is everyone else–in additon to pool tournaments, she is always listed as a fan favorite. What’s not to like?

Other cuties of the cue include Lee’s arch-rival, Allison Fisher, the Duchess of Doom. I love it!

Table Tennis! One Love for Serbian Goddess!
Ever heard of Biba Golic? This 27-year-old Serbian wunderkind is the Anna Kournikova of table tennis! Why not? Beautiful AND talented, she’s one of the top-10 rated women in the country.

This B*tch Will Crush You!!
Gina Carano will kick your ass. MMA master (that’s Mixed Martial Arts, as in ‘ouch’) and American Gladiators TV butt-whooper known as ‘Crush,’ this deadly athlete can probably make most big boys cry. (Speaking of crushing, one of the show’s hosts is boxer Laila Ali…yeah, THAT Ali is her dad…)

She got into the sport after a Thai master called her ‘fat,’ (I bet he wouldn’t dare say that to her face now…), this Diva of Pain says she’s ’single and not looking.’ Way to focus, girl!

* * * *

Is there a sport you’d like to try but feel like it’s only for boys? I hope these ladies have shown you that there is NO LIMIT to what games girls can play. Basketball, golf, tennis, skiing, surfing, snowboarding–we’ve infiltrated them all. So be a pioneer, too!

What is it with European white women and local tribesmen? If your mind is inquiring, then check out White Masai and Married to a Bedoin! These stories titillated while I was in Tanzania and jockeyed for my brain’s attention when in Jordan…

Both are the stories of Western European women who fall in love with and marry local nomadic tribesmen while vacationing in Jordan and Kenya. Imagine giving up your posh Paris home to join your new man in his dung hut!!

But let’s ask that most honest of questions–was it for love or love of a story?

* * *

My first experience with these stories was at the airport store in Dar Es Salaam. Looking for a good read since my copy of Eat, Pray, Love began repeating itself on page 240 thus giving me two Prays and no Love (seriously in so many ways!!), I stumbled onto this titillating title–White Masai. I fell for it.

Big mistake. First of all, White Masai is horribly written–with so little syntax and grammar that when you read it, you imagine rabbits hopping around on typewriters…and expect better results!! And this is a TRANSLATION from the German. I can only imagine der original draft, ja. Yeeesh.

It is the strange tale of Swiss-born Corinne Hoffman who falls in love with, marries, and bears a child with a beautiful Masai warrior. I think any of us who have ever been anywhere near Africa’s Masai Mara can sympathize with her fascination, yet most of us embrace our stark cultural differences and move on. Not Corinne.

If you manage to wade through her tale, you will be rewarded with very valuable insights into Masai culture, but you will also get the icky sensation that you are watching a very unsettling reality TV episode. Corinne Hoffman is apparently an exception to the rule of her neutral countrywomen–what Corinne wants, Corinne gets, thus sentencing us to more and more pages of her wacky prose.

The novel is a train wreck of her singular obsession that only Freud and twenty bottles of Xanax can sort out. When obstinate fascination with the exotic tragically couples with severe naivety, you can take it as the first sign of the apocalypse, only written by, as I said, wabbits. Lots of rabbits.

But like reality TV, who could put it down? I read the whole darn thing. And there’s a MOVIE so maybe that’s better…

* * *

The genre of crazy white women in the bush was lost to me until I met Marguerite van Geldermalsen. I ran into the author of Married to a Bedoin and her son at their small trinkets stall inside the gates of Petra. (They specialize in fabulous antique Bedouin jewelry and artifacts so don’t miss it…) The big poster of her book caught my attention, so I wandered over and met them. We talked, and the wind whipped up and sand obscured ancient monuments and camels, and the shading tent nearly flew off its moorings.

This woman, I can tell you, is more the real deal than the White Masai woman. In my humble opinion, she found true love with a man from another world, and they stayed happily married for decades until his recent death. She still spends a lot of time in Jordan, and she and her supremely gorgeous, educated-in-Europe/New Zealand-but-now-back-in-Jordan son are happy to discuss their story. And she can WRITE! Oh, hallelujah.

* * *

Both are fascinating reads. If you find yourself following in these ladies’ footsteps on your next far flung adventure, let me know. I’ll interview ya!

* * *

Okay, not ‘with’ her but near her! Dalia Itzik is Israel’s Speaker of the Knesset and first woman to hold the post! I was enjoying supreme squid at Manta Ray, the very best beach-side cafe in Tel Aviv, and marveling as this petite powerhouse sauntered in with male attendants in tow.

The waves rolled by, the awesome food kept coming like baba ghanoush and other Mediterranean salads with pita, and our spot was so hot that even our waiter was ’someone’–he was a VJ on local MTV!

So the next time you are in Tel Aviv, be sure to mangia at Manta Ray! The vibe is fresh, the patrons are It Listers, there is a whole mimosa menu (!!), and with all the sea-side decor, you’ll swear you’re in San Diego.

Manta Ray
Alma Beach (southern side of the promenade) between Tel Aviv and Jaffa, nearer to Jaffa
Price: NIS 80-150 pp
Tel: (03) 517-4773
Open: Sun-Sat 9:00-24:00

1. 21C Hotel, Louisville, Kentucky–
This uber modern, avant guard contemporary art gallery/ hotel MIGHT pass in San Francisco, but deep in the heart of the South?? I couldn’t believe the naked, anatomically correct statuary and puzzling installation pieces that abounded. Getting to the concierge desk meant stepping over the video of a couple in bed, and the chandeliers in the lobby made a kookie racket as they came to life at random intervals. Girl, I had to keep reminding myself which side o’ the Mason-Dixon I was on!

Centrally located downtown near several ‘other’ museums including ye olde Louisville Slugger Museum and Factory, 21C is the building on the corner with all the giant red penguins on it. You heard me. Penguins. Red. My sweet suite had its own phabulous deck complete with, you guessed it, red penguins, and if I felt like it, I could let folks in the office building across the street watch me pee if I left the blinds up. I didn’t, of course, but it was nice to have the option…

2. Hotel Donaldson, Fargo, North Dakota–
My dear friend Lisa made this reservation for me when I came out to visit her. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but this super chic oasis in the Dakotas complete with hip bar, gourmet restaurant and a suite of epic proportions certainly surprised. Like 21C, this hotel also takes art seriously and prominently features great pieces by local artists in the 17 suites. The suites have different themes, and mine was Japanese due to the low-slung platform bed and bathtub in the middle of the room that filled via a spout on the ceiling. Wow!

The restaurant was celebrating wild game one night and I ended up with some rattlesnake quesadillas. Delicious and quite well-paired with the ensuing wild boar…Yee-haw!

How CUTE!! I learned at the Louisville Slugger Museum and Factory that players can go pink for Mother’s Day and today played with official LS bats dipped in a special pink dye. The autographed bats then go for online auction to raise money for the Susan G. Komen for the Cure foundation!

Bid now for that ultimate gift. Father’s Day is just around the corner, doncha know! And if these major league prices are out of your budget, did you know that you can order custom Louisville Sluggers for that special someone? What a fun gift idea!

After running the race of her life, she lost her life. Eight Belles…20-1 odds, the only filly in the field at the 134th running of the Kentucky Derby, and yesterday at the Kentucky Oaks, her trainer, Larry Jones, saw his other star gal, Proud Spell, take the Oaks by storm and bring home the victory.

In the betting lines today, if you asked any woman bedecked in a gorgeous hat which horse she was rooting for, it was a resounding cry for EIGHT BELLES! I was waiting to make a bet up in, yes dear fans, Millionaire’s Row—where everyone who is anyone like Chelsea Clinton and Terrell Owens hangs VIP style—as a guest of the fabulous Bourbon purveyors, Woodford Reserve (so smooth even a champagne drinker like me can stomach it!), when an adorable young man asked me who my favorite horse was.

I said, the FILLY! And the woman behind me and also in the line next to mine, said, “Yes, the filly!” We were united behind her, and even poor, devastated Larry Jones, fighting back tears, acknowledged that half the spectators here today, all the women, were rooting for his lady horse.

(Don’t I know it! There were tons of vendors selling Derby horse buttons for $1–you could buy Big Brown, Pyro–all of ‘em! But no where at Churchill Downs that morning could you find a single Eight Belles button. I looked. She was the only one who totally sold out.)

I was on the rail at the finish line thanks to the fabulous and unstoppable Jane Dempsey whose Kentucky Derby Junket is so superb in every way that I vote it the Best Tour Ever, and the horses flew by thundering hooves and shocks of saddle colors. They were all there at the line–Eight Belles second, beating out 18 boys, bested only by Big Brown (watch for him in the upcoming Preakness and Belmont Stakes–he’s rumored to be a Triple Crown contendor!).

We cheered and screamed, and the great thoroughbred beasts ran down the track and then doubled back, nostrils flaring, trotting elegantly by us towards the paddock for de-saddling and cool down. My very observant friend said, “Eight Belles didn’t come back.”

Well of course she came back, I thought. There were Derby 20 horses plus all their horsey handler buddies and owners and press photographers racing by. We probably just didn’t see her. Then the Equine Ambulance roared by.

Back in our VIP bus, as we waited for our police escort and some overly Mint Juleped fellow guests to arrive, we listened to the radio. And that’s when we heard it:

Eight Belles fractured her two front ankles just after winning the race and was put down. I was stunned. Tears welled. I had bet her to win, place and show. I had WON for backing my girl.

She was gone.

One bone break pushed through the flesh, the other took her down. Trainer and jockey were shocked. They would NEVER have run her if there was even the faintest inkling of physical weakness or trouble. Not only is she worth a fortune, but she is a part of their family, beloved.

She gave that race her all, captured our imaginations, and fell seconds after her victory. Her legs gave out, and because she was not able to stand on her own, they immediately put her down. Everyone agreed–they had never seen anything like this–a horse to have two legs give out at once. There will be an autopsy.

Amidst the glory, the pomp, the romance that is the Kentucky Derby, there does lurk a darkside beyond poor hat and dress choices.

So what do you do for a horse of such passion and drive? A moment of silence? A monument in Louisville? A new synthetic track forced upon the Downs? I’m not sure. But this Kentucky Derby for me will always ring for Eight Belles.

So there I was in a private car driving home from stunning Lexington-area horse country with famed restauranteur Danny Meyer. Between his business calls, I was hoping to talk to him about food, restaurants and travel.

Earlier, we had blown our minds on the realities of stud farms at elite Three Chimneys Farm. The 2000-acre farm is picture perfect–just how you would imagine Kentucky to look. Perfectly manicured lawns! Acres of them!

And boasting some of the greatest blood lines per bluegrass ratio in the world. Now in the human world, men pay WOMEN for sex, but in horseland, the best boys get paid upwards of $100,000 per session. And they are productive with scheduled sessions at 9 AM, 2 PM, 7 PM. Jeez. We met sons of Seattle Slew, paid tribute at his grave, and met Smarty Jones.

As we twisted and turned down perfect fenced lanes, the rolling green hills of horse farms offering up a bounty of new baby foals running alongside their mommy mares (awwww…), I started to feel dizzy. My head swam. I only had a single Mint Julep at a lunch party at the GORGEOUS Woodford Reserve distillery. WTF?

So there we were, Danny and me, him handicapping in advance of the Oaks race today (fabulous fillies-only–second most famed race at Churchill), and me, concentrating fiercely on the horizon, cursing the ten Pepto Bismal tablets that didn’t seem to be working.

A note on my Diva constitution–lived in a village in India for months, traveled with Bedouin across southern Jordan, even spent a weekend at the Jersey Shore and survived!

So I ignored my tummy like a puppy-dog lover nudging me for more. No more. No time. Big day today. Darling Danny, so handsome, so soft-spoken, sat next to me pouring over his Racing Form.

I whispered to the driver–instead of Churchill Downs, could ya take me to my hotel first? I’m a resourceful gal. With our without this private car, I could probably get to the Downs before the Oaks race at 5:45.

Danny got off his call and wanted to know what’s up. I said I felt sick. He wondered if we should pull over. “You’re the boss now,” both driver and Danny agreed. So I told ‘em to pull over on the Interstate outside Louisville. The rain was starting to pour. I crouched down on the highway’s shoulder and tossed my cookies. Kentucky Barfeyed. Up-chucked.

Poor Danny, his whole career dedicated to getting food DOWN people. You know?

And what can you say after that? Sorry. “It happens to all of us,” said Mr. Meyer. Said I–but I’m an iron-stomach travel Diva!

Happily, now sitting bundled in a towel plus PJ’s in my hotel bed, shaking with chills, watching Ginger Punch come in first in the 6th race today (honey, do you need another win? Ya already won over 2 million…), thunder cracking outside, I feel okay about not being at my finish line box seat outside in the rain. You know?

So, Danny, fair Manhattan-cornering restaurant owner and author, sorry that I barfed outside your car on the way to the Oaks race. So who did you pick to win? We never got to that. Awesome Chic? Pink-clad Rasierra? Well hopefully I brought you some luck. I mean, gamblers love omens, right? Right?

Omigosh, dreamy trip!! They say the Derby isn’t the race–it’s the whole week or more of festivities leading up to the event. They were like totally right!

I’m here on the fabulous Jane Dempsey’s Kentucky Derby Junket. Her family has been running Derby tours for over 60 years, and having grown up in the horsey world, she is an unending fountain of knowledge and true Derby Diva.

We are a group made up of mother-daughters, senior couples, and legendary Derby-winning jockeys and their families. WOW! I am now buddies with Dave Erb (’56 Derby Winner on Needles) and Braulio Baeza (’63 Derby Winner on Chateaugay). We happily attended their Gallop to Glory tribute at the Galt House Hotel. Visit it to check out their newly cemented hand prints!

Now naturally I was all about my HAT and getting my nails done before the Derby. So when I got into town last night, I did an Internet search and found KY Nails (502-636-5857) near to my Executive West Hotel near the airport, Churchill Downs. WHY am I not staying at a 5-star hotel? Cuz this one is super convenient, the staff is friendly, and there is a mega milliner right in the building.

The hat shop to die for is called In Bloom Again, and there is a male Diva who makes all the hats on the premises, and they have an entire goodie room of feathers and flowers, which allows them to EXACTLY MATCH your outfit!! Love it!

(Oh, and the hotel offers free Wi-Fi, and oh, free shuttles all over, and is rumored to have ragin’ Mint Juleps. Oh, and will shortly become a Crown Plaza or something soon.)

Today we had a VIP tour of the Backside of the Downs watching Derby and other horses practice. We ate breakfast at the awesomely authentic Wagner’s Track Kitchen where you grab a tray and stand in line for biscuits and grits while watching the horses fly by on the track outside. PINCH ME I’M DREAMING!

Then we hit the Galt House with our luminaries and THEN the Kentucky Derby Museum, a MUST SEE. Feel what thighs of steel jockeys have to have as you try to make it through a whole virtual race whilst assuming the position–ass off the saddle, girl! Yowch. Or check out whatever race footage you desire. And DON’T miss the show. The surround-wall movie totally rocks and inspires.

Ladies, I LOVE IT HERE!! Interesting stuff I learned? That the famous race the day before the Derby is called the OAKS, and it’s the race that the girl horses run. They call it ‘Lillies for Fillies’ cuz the winning fillie wins a cape or lillies, not roses.

Have any fillies run in the Derby? You bet your pocketbook they have. THREE have won: Regret (1915), Genuine Risk (1980) and Winning Colors (1988). This year, three cheers for EIGHT BELLES, who is giving the boy horses a run for the money — 2 million point two to be exacta!

The Derby is for Divas. Do come, and wish me no rain on Friday and Saturday! This is your Diva Belle saying good-bye, girls!