Purple Roofs is “your GLBT key to world travel” and features Gay and Lesbian Bed & Breakfasts, Inns, Guesthouses, Hotels, Travel Agents, & Tour Operators.

The site is run by Mark and Scott and they have been kind enough to share some of their favorite vacations with us.

Today we’re looking at the weekend getaway of Amador County in Northern California for wine tasting, bed and breakfasts and everything in between.

When most people think of California wines they think of two places: the Napa Valley and the Sonoma Valley, and then they go there by the busload.  This premier wine region in Northern California overflows with tourists in the summertime, and wine tastings are often $5, $10, or $15 a glass.  Yes, for a tasting.

However, there are a number of other lesser-known wine regions in California that offer fantastic local varietals, scenic vine-covered hills, and best of all, elbow room.

The Shenandoah Valley in Amador County is such a place.  It is a lovely wine-growing region about an hour southeast of Sacramento. There are at least 32 wineries here within 15 minutes of each other, most of them can be found on one large loop of road that makes it easy to enjoy the grand tour.

How to Get There:

From the East (Lake Tahoe/Highway 50), catch Highway 49 in Placerville south. In 14 1/2 miles, you’ll reach the small town of Plymouth – make a left onto Fiddletown Rd., and you’re there.

From Sacramento proper, you have a couple options. The shorter route is to take Highway 50 up to El Dorado Hills. Take the Latrobe Rd. Exit (it only goes south), and follow Latrobe Rd. about 14 miles south to Old Sacramento Rd. This runs about 5 miles into Plymouth, and becomes Fiddletown Rd., leading you right into the wine region.

For a slightly longer scenic route, exit Highway 50 at How Ave. Go South on Howe and make an almost immediate left onto Folsom Blvd. Stay to your right – in about a block, Folsom veers left and Jackson Highway (16) veers right. Stay on 16 for about 30 1/2 miles, passing through lots of farmland and rural scenery. 16 then becomes 49 north bound and veers to the right – a little more than 2 miles takes you into Plymouth. Make a right onto Fiddletown, and you’ve arrived. Read More »

The irony of this entire thing is that I could have chosen any hotel in the greater Portland area.

It was a business trip and they’d pick up the tab.

Marriott on the water? A night in one of the McMenamin’s pub-based rooms? Hilton?

I could have had any.

I decided to try for ‘cool’ and ‘funky’.

In fact, that’s what I typed into Google.

The first to pop up was the Jupiter Hotel and from the initial look of the website, it was everything I hoped to find my one night in town.

It’s a motel with a makeover. I can dig it.

I got off of the plane and into the cab.

’800 East Burnside, please’, I said.

‘Jupiter Hotel! Nice choice, man’ he said.

‘Thanks!’ I said back, suddenly reminded of how nice everyone was in this town.

‘Have fun!’ he said as I got out of the cab, which seemed weird, but I didn’t mind as he was so kind to only charge me $4.

-

‘Hi!’ said the very nice boy behind the counter.

‘Hi!’ I said back, again reminded of how nice everyone was in this town.

‘Here’s your key!’ he said handing me a key.

‘Thanks!’ I said, taking the key.

‘No problem, sweetie!’ he said as I walked out of the office, which seemed weird, but I didn’t mind as he was so kind to ignore the fact that I was from Oklahoma…with a last name of Queen. Which usually gets me a few comments.

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And so I walked past a lot of very nice guys with beards to my room.

‘Hi!’ a lot of them said.

‘Hi!’ I said back to a lot of them.

And then opened my door:

It was like a forest! With nice pillows and a flat-screen television and some ‘cool’ and ‘funky’ toiletry ideas for a greener world:

And so I sat and thought about how quaint and wonderful this place was and how nice everyone was in and around the area and it wasn’t until I noticed the condom on the pillow that this might be a little bit more than ‘cool’ and ‘funky’.

It could be a gathering place of boys-who-like-boys; which is fine. I’m fine with it. Even tried a little makin’-out with another boy back in the 90′s to see if I was. I was not, but have no problem with it.

But just to be sure, I went ahead and re-visited Google for some answers…

‘Jupiter Hotel’, ‘Portland’, ‘possibly gay’.

And I found out…well, everything and nothing.

Portland is a free-thinking city, that’s what makes it so wonderful. So I’m sure I could replace ‘Jupiter Hotel’ with any and get some hits.

Let’s try:

‘Hilton hotel’, ‘Portland’, ‘possibly gay’.

Oh. Okay, nothing, really.

Which means it was either, yes, a very gay hotel, or just run by a bunch of well-dressed hipsters who were nice.

I left more confused than when I came in – which, if owned by the types that I think own it, is exactly what they wanted.

For me to even write this post is asking for trouble. It might be safer to pick a fight with a 300 pound, 6 foot 4 Scot than to throw out my suggestions for the best Irish bars in New York.  The list, of course, is subject to opinion and everyone has theirs. This is mine. And yes, I know that my list is Manhattan-centric. There are some great Irish bars in places like the Woodlawn and Riverdale sections of the Bronx, and in Woodside, Queens, and the Irish Riviera officially know as Breezy Point, but lovingly called Boozy Point. For all I know, there are probably some good Irish bars upstate too. But I know Manhattan best. It’s where I lived about a quarter of my life. It’s also where I’ve wandered the streets for many a St. Patrick’s Day.

If you’re planning to visit New York for St. Patrick’s Day, you’ll probably want to see the parade. New York’s St. Patrick’s Day Parade is the oldest, biggest and self-proclaimed best St. Patrick’s Day parade in the world. New Yorkers first held the parade on March 17, 1762, in honor of the patron saint of the Archdiocese of New York.  In a city that holds a parade for just about anyone, it’s now the largest and most famous of New York’s parades. And it does that without allowing any floats, cars or commercial advertising—it’s 100% musicians, politicians, civil servants, club and society members, and other marchers on foot who are all Irish, or at least Irish for the day.

There’s a nearly endless number of restaurants in New York, of course, and accommodations for every taste and budget. (Or you could just sleep on the floor in Grand Central Terminal and wake up for a train in the morning. Not that I know anyone who’s done that.) But, if you’re going to New York for the St. Patrick’s Day parade, the day isn’t complete without a stop in an Irish pub.

If you’re uneasy about what you might be walking into in an Irish bar on St. Patrick’s Day, don’t be. One of the things I most love about Irish bars and restaurants in Manhattan every March 17 is that entire families come after the parade to continue celebrating. Not all of them are like that, but you can find quite a few family-friendly establishments where moms, dads, grandparents and kids are all enjoying the day. Of course, if you want a loud, young, come-here-just-for-the-drink type of place, New York has that too.

Paddy Reilly’s, at 519 Second Avenue near East 29th Street, is one of the best bars in the City for live Irish music. Mildly famous bands like Black 47 got their start playing weekly here, when I’d crowd in with scores of other middle and upper-class twenty-somethings to sing along and shake our firsts for the Irish proletariat. The bar has a dark, dingy, needs-to-be-cleaned look, but one that makes the young Irish and Irish-wannabes feel right at home. What’s more—the only beer on tap is Guinness. Who could ask for anything more?

Speaking of dark and dingy, McSorley’s Old Ale House, at 15 East 7th Street, is the original dark and dingy Irish-American bar. Seriously. There’s probably dust in there that’s older than our great-grandparents. It’s been open since 1854 and has the reputation for being no-nonsense and stubborn in its ways. Women weren’t allowed in until 1970, and didn’t get a separate restroom until 1986. The bar also serves only two kinds of beer—light and dark—and you’re expected to buy two at a time. You want something else? Find yourself a bar with a menu. McSorely’s also has the reputation for being overcrowded with college kids, but how many bars can you go to that once welcomed Abraham Lincoln? It’s educational, really.

Molly’s Pub & Restaurant, at 287 Third Avenue near 22nd Street, is one of the more family-friendly establishments among the Irish bars of New York.  It’s been called “the most authentic Irish bar in the City” and “New York’s finest Irish pub.” Like most other Irish bars, Molly’s is dark—but at Molly’s, dark isn’t dingy, but warm and cozy with even a log-burning fireplace to add to the charm. Molly’s also has a full menu and gets great reviews and high ratings for its food as well as its beer.

Originally on West 48th Street, the Pig n’ Whistle now has three midtown locations—Third Avenue, Second Avenue, and the most tourist-friendly of the three in Times Square at 165 West 47th Street between Sixth and Seventh Avenues. Unlike other Irish bars, the Pig n’ Whistle is large, bright and polished.  It also has a full dinner and bar menu and gets some great reviews for its food.  The Pig n’ Whistle still has a lot of Irish left in it though. By calling itself the “Best Irish Pub” in New York, for example, it just sounds like it’s askin’ for a fight.

Finally, there’s Dublin House at 225 West 79th Street near Broadway. Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home. Dublin House was my Irish bar. There were bars closer to my ‘hood near Columbia University, some that I went to too often and another (now closed) that was also an Irish pub, but Dublin House is the place that I always thought of as the local Irish bar. From the dark narrow room to the Guinness on tap to the authentic brogues on the bartenders, this was St. Patrick’s Day to me. I’m sure that I’d feel old now in an evening crowd of twenty-somethings, but I’d probably still feel young, late in the afternoons, sitting with the old regulars at the bar.  That’s the beauty of an Irish bar—that there’s always a welcome, a fáilte, for everyone. With apologies to Robert Frost, an Irish bar is the place where, when you go there, they have to take you in.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day, everyone.