HollyGoFuriously Adventures

Texas State Fair

2009-10-17T12:05:00.000-07:00

For the past several weeks almost every trip I've made to Dallas involved a visit or two to this year's Texas State Fair. As one of the biggest Fairs in North America, one can spend an entire day, if you pace yourself, wondering the fair grounds. Since Mike lives in walking distance to the Fair, every time I've visited I smelled the cotton candy and could faintly hear the rides from the Midway. I am quite sad that the Fair will be over after this weekend. However I got my money's worth this year. Here are my personal highlights:

I finally got to go on the infamous Swan Paddle Boats with my dad. For only $6 a person we had unlimited time paddling around the little lake out behind the Natural Science Museum. Dad became a kid again. He would slowly paddle up to perching turtle and scare the bejeesus out of them, laughing maniacally afterwards.

The Texas Star was also as wonderful as the previous years. On a nice day you can view down on the entire Fair Grounds area and Downtown Dallas. The lines were not as bad as in previous years. It pays to visit at the right time.
I got a glipse if not sat through much of the entertainment this year including the dog show, puppet show, and various musical acts (including En Vogue!), but the Bird Show was by far the best. There's nothing like birds from all over the world swooping over your head and performing tricks.

Speaking of tricks, I had a few tricks of the gastronomic variety with the ever curious deep fried concoctions. I had a taste of the famous Deep Fried Butter (which tasted mostly like a warm biscuit with a buttery center). In addition, let me run down the reasons why I will soon be going on a diet: Deep Fried Cookie Dough, Fried Green Tomatoes, Fried Grilled Cheese Sandwich, Curry Chicken, Greek Salad, and of course Jack's Fries. I'm a little upset I didn't get a corny dog at some point. I think I did enough damage though.

I had some great fun at the Midway, mostly sticking to the simple games like Duck Pond and Skee ball. I seem to charm carnies, as I got to play many free games and often got free upgrades on prizes. Mike and I won two addition 'Duck Men' to add to last year's Duck Man (further explanation... We call these guys 'Duck Men' because they have the arms, legs, and hair of a man but the head and color of a duck).

Last of note was the wonderful job DART did with the new station out front of Fair Park. It was beautifully done, even art-deco style to match the gates surrounding the park. Parking and traffic was noticeably reduced thanks to this new way to get to the Fair!

The famous Tower Building in Fair Park (Morning, Noon, Twilight)

In conclusion I was very happy with both the comforts and surprises of this year's Fair. I will leave you with photos I took from last year's Fair versus some I took from this year.

2008 State Fair Versus 2009 State Fair:

John Deer Tractors

Mike posing with Duckmen

The Duck Ponds

The Butterfly Exhibit

Big Tex

Fall Time is time for Baked Apples

2009-10-10T10:01:00.000-07:00

I get on these kicks of buying healthy produce at the store and watching them go to complete waste in the refrigerator in favor of convenient store snack visits. I decided enough was enough. I will not let this beautiful batch of pink lady apples sit in the fruit bin any longer. Figuring that the temperature dropped a good 30 degrees yesterday (Texas weather... enough said), it was high time to try a new Fall themed snack. Here is my recipe for Baked Apples -

Ingredients

Three Apples (I used Pink Lady variety)
1 cup of sugar / 1 tablespoon of cinnamon (I discovered this was too much but used the extra in some coffee served on the side)
1 tbs butter

Baking Instructions
Preheat the oven to 375 F.
Core the apples (I used a knife) - if you cut through the bottom just patch it up with a little bit of butter.
Combine the sugar and cinnamon and pour into the core of the apples.
divide the tbs of butter over the tops of the filled apple cores.
cook for 30-40 minutes.

Viola!

Neither my father (pictured) nor I have ever had baked apples before. He told me that growing up one of the comic series he often read was Hot Stuff the Little Devil who was always on a quest for baked apples. Dad always wanted to try baked apples growing up but was too embarrassed to admit this was why.

These apples tasted just like a warm more solid form of apple sauce. The skins were soft and I just gobbled my apple down. It's been the most unusual breakfast of the Fall so far. I forgot the joys of cinnamon. Errr, and apples!

Ode to Photo Booths

2009-10-06T22:56:00.000-07:00

Photo taken at the Santa Cruz Boardwalk on the first day I am 25.

Photo taken at Coney Island near the Wonder Wheel

Photo taken in mall in Fort Worth with Michael Napodano Sr. & Jr.

Photo at the Drag Show in Portland, Oregon in January. Weird mixture of characters, that's for sure.

For some odd reason I've only discovered the awesomeness of photobooths this year! It's become my new obsession. Texas State Fair is next...

Birthday in Northern California, Day 6: Highway 1

2009-09-21T00:00:00.000-07:00

Although I didn't get to sleep in, I was extremely invigorated from the rest I got at the Jabberwock Inn. Those sleep number beds are great! The fog in Monterey was very thick today, despite news that a heat wave was supposed to come through and burn it away. I am not as depressed as I thought I'd be now that the celebrations are over because in a sense, I have one more day to explore then back to the comfort of home! Sitting on the window bench, enjoying the sounds of seagulls and smells of coffee brewing in the kitchen below, I witnessed the city come alive. I heard the bells ring at the school down the street and faintly a kid leading the Pledge of Allegiance over an intercom. Talk about nostalgia...

Breakfast was phenomenal! We started off with some wonderful coffee, an apple danish, an quiche-like egg dish with peppers and beans and lots of greens (served with salsa and sour cream), a side of fruit, and AMAZING orange juice smoothie. I will have to get the recipe for that. An elderly lady helped serve the guests, making sure everyone's coffee was always full and by the end I was wired on caffeine. I realized now it had been a few days of not having any coffee or caffeine due to the flu. Now it was hitting!

This morning I walked down to Cannery Row for one last view of the coast, dropped off the postcards at the post office, then headed up Highway One back towards San Francisco.

There is only one word to describe the drive - FOG. I was insistent that if I couldn't see the beautiful sights due to this thick mass of water vapor, I was going to stop at every little stop along the way. I visited some Artichoke and Strawberry farms, a creepy little pumpkin patch, and spent some time at the Santa Cruz Boardwalk and Surfing Museum. The Boardwalk, though deserted and under much construction, made me excited for the up and coming Texas State Fair. I'm not quite sure why I love amusement parks and fair grounds so much. The Santa Cruz Boardwalk (being one of the few beach-side amusement parks left in California and being 100 years old at that), was definitely worth the stop.

(Views from the Santa Cruz Boardwalk)

At one point I stopped on the side of the road because I saw a discernible sign that had a hiking symbol near Half Moon Bay. After the rich breakfast and driving all day, I decided to pull over and go for a stroll. It was one of the more surreal experiences of the trip... walking on these huge cliffs with nothing but the sound of cars and waves crashing on the supposed beach, none of which you could see. The path had no signs and visibility was limited. I decided to take off my shirt as I had complete privacy. It was like my own little playground!

The day winded down with a drive back to San Mateo. I didn't quite want to leave nature, and even started to grow fond of the fog. In perspective I only left the city for less than two days but it felt like a week's escape. I spent the rest of the evening packing up and preparing for my flight the next day, watching classic movies on the television.

As a summary, my vacation was amazing. Though short and becoming infected with the flu, I proved to myself that I could push through it and see and experience some amazing things. I wouldn't make a single change, except to share it it someone else of course :-(. That will definitely be taken into consideration for my next travels. Until then, it's blogging and dreaming...

Birthday in Northern California, Day 5: Monterey & the Jabberwock B&B

2009-09-20T12:01:00.000-07:00

I booked a room at this very well-reviewed Jabberwock Inn, tucked away near historic Cannery Row in Monterey, as a birthday present from my mother. This place was just amazing. The minute I arrived I was greeted by Dawn, one of the owners. She first gave me a tour of the place, showing me the beautiful little common areas (where there was always free freshly baked cookies laying out, complimentary teas and snacks, little Alice & Wonderland knick-knacks and later in the evening free wine and sherry). She pointed out the little garden that had two standard poodles, an oyster-shell Bouche Ball court, and wonderful landscaping. On the way up to my room, there was a secret closet that housed a refrigerator with complimentary soft drinks and juice for the guests. What a charming place!

My room was the Mimsy Room (from the poem Jabberwocky) on the third floor that overlooked the entire Monterey Bay with complete privacy. I learned from the other owner, Bill, that it's one of the most popular rooms, one in which his own mother wants to stay whenever she gets sick and needs to recover (which is exactly what I need after this flu!). I opened the windows to the sounds of seagulls and the smell of the ocean, only a few blocks away. There was a nice little window bench I sprawled out on and just watched the outside world. The weather was perfect.

(Photo One: Peeking out the window, Photo Two: View from the Mimsy Room, Photo Three: Jelly beans and scotch next to the bed!)

I decided to walk down to Cannery Row, the historic namesake of the Steinbeck novel I have yet to read. The area had become extremely commercialized and developed and it was very difficult to get access to the beach or even a view of the shore. I wonder what Steinbeck would have thought of all this. It reminds me of many places I visit that just don't hold the charm that they either used have to or were intended to have (like Bricktown in Oklahoma or the Strand in Galveston). I did manage to see an otter or two by the beach, they were so cute!

(Photos of the shoreline in Monterey)

On the way back I bought some extremely cheap pizza and some liquor, although I wish I'd had waited since at the Jabberwock a couple of the guests as well as Dawn and John were mingling in the little indoor porch area, eating appetizers and drinking wine. I noticed the dry erase board that had the names and origins of all the guests. There were couples from Long Island, London, and Berkeley, and we all chatted that evening about things to see around the area, photography, Irish music, Obama, accents, TV Shows, NYC, and beyond. I was so appreciative to have people to talk with on my birthday and to be in such a welcoming warm place. The sun set and we all retired to our respective rooms.

I spent the last remaining hours of my birthday laying on the window beach writing postcards to friends and taking a nice little shower. The fog crept in and soon you could not discern details outside for more than a block away, which was great for me because that meant lots of privacy. It started to get cold, despite being wrapped in some blankets, so I closed the windows and headed off to my sleep-number bed (which I had never experienced). I had a night cap of complimentary Scotch and jelly beans which was provided at the bedside and had a great night's sleep.

"My wife cried when we left, what else can I say" - Review about the Jabberwock.

I am a little concerned with my psyche tomorrow. The day after my birthday is sometimes depressing, like the party is over. My day is over. We'll see how it goes.

Birthday in Northern California, Day 5: Big Sur Beauty

2009-09-20T12:00:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday to Me!

I rented a car this morning and headed off to Monterey blasting New Wave and Alternative music playing on one of the local radio stations. The weather was perfect, I was feeling much better, and there was not a bit of traffic. Driving on 101 South the valleys eventually rid themselves of houses and civilization and I could smell cypress and pine from my rolled down window. Freedom and celebration for me!

Nearing the Pacific, I saw the dreaded sea mist / fog start to creep in. At first I thought it was smoke from a forest fire with the strange brownish tint but after much asking around I eventually learned this was par for the course. Since I made very good time, I decided to drive past Monterey to Carmel and beyond to Big Sur. At about that time the radio station receptions completely died except for one channel that had this strange british voices talking about Abba and getting sick on mussels. Completely bizarre but I had no other options. I zoomed through Highway 1 as there was really nothing to SEE due to the very thick fog. Highway 1 I learned is not the place to drive fast and I almost scared myself a few sharp turns.

I drove on past Garrappata State Park, past seemingly beautiful views. I was on a mission to see two sites I remember from my childhood that caused my insane fascination with Big Sur. First stop was the Henry Miller Museum in the Big Sur Park. Surrounded my tall trees, this little cabin store had a few new features, including a gigantic stage and some art work in the back. I bought a commemorative book for my father, who introduced me to this when I was little, explored around out back, and finally relaxed and listened to a local guitarist play acoustic Beatles songs. I think Henry Miller would have been proud of this place.

(Photo One: Henry Miller Museum, Photo Two: Me playing among the art in the back, Photo Three: Clovers in the back area!, Photo Four: The Bathroom)

The second place of interest is this wonderful little restaurant overlooking the coast called Nepenthe. Parking was brutal as was the wait. Apparently I was not the only one who was a fan of this place. I ordered myself a Bloody Mary and sat out on some cushions and stairs and soaked in a bit of the sun shining through the fog. I met a man named Noel who asked so very politely to borrow my phone to make a call, to which I agreed and the person on the other line eventually wished me a very Happy Birthday. Worth the risk of helping out a stranger right there! While talking to this lady friend of his, he joked, "If I die young, tell my mother I was gay!" Not sure what that meant but it was humoring.

(The patio at Nepethe / Bloody Mary Time!)

I stopped along the way back to Monterey at a few 'vantage' points just so I knew there was a damned ocean out there through the fog. I don't know what attracts me so much to this area. Perhaps it's the violent beauty of the ocean battling the coastline... of the forest inching it's way to the very edge of the sea. The California fauna that stays vibrant all year long is so very different from that of Texas that a patch of wild grass I could investigate for quite some time. Next stop is the infamous Jabberwock Bed & Breakfast.

(a good peak I had of the Big Sur bay through the fog)

Birthday in Northern California, Day 4

2009-09-19T00:00:00.000-07:00

I was not a happy camper today, in the middle of a horrible horrible flu. I spent half the day trying to find a hotel nearby. I had been a pretty good sport with staying at the hostel, sharing every inch of your space with complete strangers. I ended up booking a very cheap hotel that thank goodness was just a block down the hill and got out of that place quick. There is nothing more wonderful than scraping yourself off the nasty street and getting thee into a corporate run hotel if just for one night. My room was quiet, clean, air-conditioned, and best of all had the WHITEST bathroom I have ever seen. I laid in the dark and rested, taking some drugs to recover from the fevers. By sun break, I felt like a million bucks... well maybe not a million but definitely a thousand.

After bathing off the travel grime, making myself a cup of complimentary coffee, and molting a bunch of hair, I headed out to get some food from Chutneys. Their Palak Paneer looked like spewed green pea soup from the Exorcist but it tasted wonderful. I headed to Chinatown to get souvenirs before I left San Francisco and ran into a gigantic festival going on there! There were musicians, dancers, and tons of vendors selling new and unique products, none of which I could read. Feeling ballsy with my renewed health, I stopped by North Beach for some espresso and a drink at Vesuvio's one last time. I was approached by a young man wearing a paperboy hat. He was so incredibly shy. He was a young writer named Todd, who had just returned from Afghanistan serving in the military. Though I did know how much of what he said was true, we talked very briefly and I felt sorry for this young disgruntled man. Among being 'bored' and 'tired', he insisted on paying me money because I was sick (which I gratefully declined). What is with people giving me money my last day in a town (particularly the Italian district)? He wanted to take me to France, and I was about to take him up on it. With a pat on the back and a blessing for better time, I left him and headed back.

Last stop that night was at the Bourbon and Branch, an underground cocktail lounge in which you needed a password. Located on the edge of the Tenderloin District, this place was in a non-descript building that mockingly had the title "Anti-Saloon League" on the sign outside. With a buzzer and a door and nothing else to imply there was a full service bar on the other side, it was exactly what I'd think a speakeasy would be like. Inside it was dark with classic 1920s jazz playing faintly. The waiters were all wearing period-style clothing and the drinks were very interesting!

I got the Cucumber Gimlet which was frothy, sweet, and delightful! Again I was awkwardly standing alone at the bar and sipped up my drink and left.

Not a complete waste for a day! Tomorrow would be my birthday and I needed to rest up.

Birthday in Northern California, Day 3

2009-09-18T00:00:00.000-07:00

I was woken up by the extremely loud dump trucks roaring through our alley at the ripe hour of 6:45am. I was supposed to be down at the Ferry Building by 8:15am for my Napa Valley Wine Tour so I just used the roaring as an alarm clock. Barely alive I headed through Chinatown, getting a Sesame Ball for breakfast (which I finally learned are referred to as the Chinese Donut).
Arriving at the Ferry Building the sky was just clearing up from the morning coastal fog and I had a beautiful view of the Bay Bridge and the rigs off in the distance. Our tour group consisted of about thirty people, mostly a bit older. I found myself in a completely different world than the previous days, spent around hostel dwellers, beat poets, and the crazies of Haight Street. Here I was with all American tourists who were staying at fancy hotels and spending a TON of money buying every wine that pleased their pallet. Quite the culture shock, but everyone was very nice to me. I was the only one there that didn't know a soul.

(Bay Bridge in the morning... trying to be artistic)

Our guide was an older gentleman by the name of Tom, who kept us quite entertained the entire shuttle ride out to Napa Valley with a history of the surrounding areas. The drive to Napa was wonderful, going over the Golden Gate Bridge, past Sausalito and arriving in the beautiful valleys filled with rows of rich green vines, prime of the grape-picking season. We visited four Wineries over a couple of hours: Andretti Winery, Rutherford Grove, V. Sattui, and Rutherford Ranch.

I realized half way through I was not fit for such heavy wine tasting, but felt pressure from the others and to prevent standing around awkwardly to participate in the wine tastings at every place. Luckily we had a wonderful wonderful lunch at V. Sattui, one of the more popular vineyards in Napa Valley. I had a crab cake with macaroni & truffles at their little Deli, a place once recommended by Rachael Ray!

Here are my picks for the best wines I tasted at each Winery:
Andretti Selections Barbera 2008 (great medium bodied red wine. Left behind great legs)
2005 Estate Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon Howell Mountain (very earthy and rich)
V. Sattui's 2006 Reserve Napa Valley Merlot (spiciest merlot I've ever tasted, I actually purchased this one!)
2006 Rutherford Ranch Zinfandel Napa Valley (quite fruity and smooth)

I was unsure if I'd make it to the last few wineries but I definitely knew I would not be awake on the shuttle ride to the ferry in Vallejo that would take us back through the bay area at sunset. It was incredibly beautiful though the ferry was a bit bumpy. At this point my health wasn't so good. I was not sure if it was the wine, the sunburn, or if something else was wrong but I was feeling extremely ill.

Back at the hostel I crashed on my bed where I stayed for the rest of the evening, talking with my new roommate Laura from the UK. It was such a surreal experience, having the sun go down slowly, talking to a girl from overseas about relationships, and slowly starting to suffer from the flu. That night ended up being one of the most horrible nights on the trip. I was tossing and turning, sweating, having chills, and fevers. I did NOT want to have swine flu just in time for my birthday, but I definitely had a bad case of something.

Birthday in Northern California, Day 2

2009-09-17T00:00:00.000-07:00

"Can you spare me some change ma'am, like a boob job?"

There's nothing like waking up super early to get your dibs on the bathroom, trying not to wake up the five hung-over strangers in your hostel room. They say Virgos are planners so I had my shower things and a change of clothes laid out as not to trip around the dark room making too much noise. The cramped hostel was already starting to get to me. A line had formed after I rushed my shower. An old german man caught me on my run back to the room to point out I dropped my underwear. Uuuuuggggh.

Down in the basement there was free breakfast, which consisted of a very diverse selection of carb-heavy options. Bagels, bread, english muffins, croissants, and of course a large vat of margarine and Nutella (of course! We have Europeans in this place).

I start my foot journey to North Beach through Chinatown, which I recommend to anyone visiting San Francisco. Stockton Avenue in the morning is full of groceries getting their shipments in and you can watch what items are 'hot' in Chinatown. Surprisingly the meat markets had lines out the door and it wasn't even noon! The smells were wonderful and the people fun to watch but it was even more crowded then the touristic times to visit!

I made my way to Washington Park and decided to take a rest after stupidly walking up one of the steepest stretches of streets in the Bay Area - Powell Ave. What was I thinking? I found that I had stumbled upon the daily Tai Chi practices of the Chinatown residents. Whether in groups with outfits or like one man completely solo on his work clothes, they did the most gracefully but sometimes humorous moves. Talk about free entertainment.

I started down Columbus to City Lights Books, a historical setting for the 'beat writers' (Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg both had their earlier works published there...). The store was amazing, with controversial fiction, consignment poetry section, a "banned books" section, and tons of biographical material. I started to realize that despite how much of a bohemian I view myself, I had never ever been exposed to this movement. Despite the parody references to poetry readings, bebop jazz, berets and goatees, I had no idea about the players and the beat culture and suddenly I was inundated with a movement of writing I knew nothing about! What better way to learn more about it than to hop next door to the Beat Museum?

(Photo One: City Lights Bookstore, Photo Two: A sign in the corner of the bookstore, Photo Three: Banned Books section, Photo Four: Quote from the store owner in the alley)

With a $5 admission, I was set free in an area full of documents, books, art, a short video, and a very comprehensive exhibit of the beat writers. In the gift shop I must have looked incredibly lost, having absolutely no idea where to start. Luckily the nice employees of the store came to my rescue and literally talked to me for quite some time about their recommendations. I bought a book on the Beginner's Guide to the Beat Movement and a poster that says "Fuck Hate". Why not?

Paintings in 'Jack Kerouac Alley'

I then went to Vesuvio Cafe, which shared the "Jack Kerouac Alley" with the bookstore and apparently where the writers used to hang out a lot. It was a beautiful little place that was dimly lit, full of faded colorful bohemian decorations, and best of all affordable drinks. I planted myself in the balcony room with nooks of booths cleverly named things like "Lady Psychiatrists Corner", and had a beer while writing a few postcards. Very rarely, except when traveling to Europe, that I feel like I have had a truly cultural experience. This far this has been that and the day was early. I decided why not head down to the Haight-Ashbury district to get a taste of 'hippie' culture?

(views from my seat at Vesuvio's)

The best way to get across town was to take the BART system. I don't too much like to be on the subway in a place so prone to earthquakes but alas I made it to the closest stop to Haight-Ashbury. I walked the rest of the way but the entire time was admiring this large mountain. Now I had hiked up Powell Street and was convinced I still had some muscle left, so I hiked up this gigantic hill, I later learned was Bueno Vista park. Along the way I had peaks of views of the entire bay area and hardly anyone around except some kids smoking pot and quietly playing guitar. I laid down at a clearing at the very top and enjoyed the great view and cold breeze, reading some of the books I just purchased.

After a while I realized I was there to see Haight-Ashbury, so I hurried down the hill and delivered right into Haight Street. Immediately I was approached by a group of young punks drinking in the street asking me for change. Block after block this happened and I started to get very defensive... like I was just an object for them to pick on when I was a nice person and would gladly talk with them if they didn't confront me in such an exploitative manner. I have heard from many people this place wasn't like it used to be. My dad once told me the real death of the hippie movement was drugs, and what brought healthy young loving peaceful individuals to become desperate to fund their addiction. Perhaps I'm being very judgmental of these strangers (i.e. the people who hung out on the streets in that area), but I hardly took out my camera to take photos of the beautiful murals of the past. It wasn't worth the hoard of junkies coming up to me asking for change or to ask if I wanted to buy hash. I also realized I had spent the entire day wandering around on my own and minding my own business without being bothered. That can spoil you.

Best tee-shirt I saw at the Beat Museum said in plain text:
"Stop bitching and start your own damned revolution"

That afternoon Matt, the young man from Belgium, called me up and wanted to join me for drinks at Vesuvio Cafe. I thought at first it was going to be a stressful night with having to deal with language barriers but I came to learn how incredibly quick we started to adapt to each other's dialect and soon after personality. I talked with Matt about everything from complex philosophy, racism, spirituality, and general responsibilities of humans. He told me his situation, having chosen to not return to Belgium with his family after a visit here and his dire struggle to find a job or direction to live here. As a good looking, fit, extremely intelligent and open minded person as he was, it really put into perspective how amazing our country is that someone would be willing to struggle so much to stay here.
On a side note, Vesuvio's at night is extremely charming. Old men were playing chess, young couples were sipping on absinthe, a few people had the bohemian look going, and it felt like something right out of the 50s or earlier. Definitely worth the second visit!

Now on every vacation I go on, there is always one extremely awesome and random event that occurs, and on our walk back to the hostel was that event. In a completely deserted Chinatown, I saw three young black men and a bohemian white guy get out of their car that was blasted old school hip-hop. In the street, they all congregated in a line and I knew exactly what they were going to do and jumped in to join them. At 1am I did the Electric Slide, something I have not done since Elementary school, with complete strangers. We all gave each other high fives and they totally thought it rocked that I 'got' it and joined in. Matt stood there almost dumb-founded and I could only assume that he was thinking 'Only in America...'. Back at the hostel the conversations continued. For the lack of company during the day, it was so nice to have such good company into the late night. Very successful day!

Birthday in Northern California, Day 1

2009-09-16T00:00:00.000-07:00

"If you are traveling with a small child, remember to put on your mask first!"

I have to thank Southwest Airlines for their incredible travel deals (that allowed me this spontaneous trip), and I absolutely love flying with them... although I think my flight attendant was about to crack. She gave me a dozen bags of peanuts, not sure why, but had a ridiculous smile on her face as if she's just dished out a dozen plastic pacifiers. Oh goodness. Despite the many stops, I got two extra hours when I arrived in San Francisco.

Just like in a movie, upon my arrival at the Adelaide Hostel, the song "California Dreamin" comes on the radio. The first thing I saw in the room was a pair of thong underwear drying in the open window and a joint rolled up below. It looked like the kind of dump rock stars would stay at touring through San Francisco. I dug it!

I hit the town as soon as I was settled and wondered to Chinatown. Immediately I observed that there were about twice as many homeless / crazies and half as many police on the streets. I managed to get my beloved sesame ball from the one cafe still open there in the late afternoon. Heaven! After getting lost in many souvenir shops, which I don't typically care for except for this specific Chinatown that has the most amazing trinkets.

(Chinatown souvenirs, freshly fried sesame ball!)

On the way back I stopped in a Korean-operated dive bar where I got my first sense of drink prices in the city. $8 for a tiny glass of wells? I ended up striking up a conversation with Loing, the beautiful bartender. I ended up staying there for quite a while, striking up conversations with a gay man with a very sick dog, a Spanish man with a thick accent, and Ron, an off-duty police man, who bought me a drink and recommended great places to check out. Loing also bought me a drink for my birthday. What a nice bunch of people!

I went back to the hostel and met the ladies I was staying with. The french girl was the fine owner of the thong and joint, and two English ladies invited me out on the town with them and the others of the hostel that night.
We all waited in the alley which was full of people... some doing art, some blatantly enjoying some MJ, and a young kid running around. They all seemed to know each other like a big family, I almost felt like I was intruding. Very strange feeling. Socializing as I do, I realized that as an American I was indeed less of a deer in the headlights than my European counterparts, which was strange. Among the crowd I met people from Denmark, London, Austria, Poland, Belgium, and Australia. After having a few drinks it becomes very hard to have a conversation with all the accents and having to make sure I was 'talking on their level' if need be.

We all headed to the Element Lounge near the hostel for a free Reggae show. One of my roommates enjoyed my dancing apparently and bought me a drink. I met a very nice Belgian guy named Matt who talked with me about photography for a while. We had plans to hang out tomorrow.

What a fun night! Ahhhh California Dreamin'...

Mint Julep Sundays & Gallery Night

2009-09-13T12:47:00.000-07:00

Fall Gallery Night....
Last night was the annual Fall Gallery Night in Fort Worth with my mom and Cindy. This is where all the galleries open up late into the evening serving food and wine. The last several years proved to be upsetting to me in a way. A grassroots effort to get people out to buy art seemed to over the years turn into a sponsored expensive Fine Arts showing. However this year there was an amazing turn-around. It was pouring rain so I couldn't bring my camera but the art was sharp, edgy, and interesting. Perhaps the downturn in the economy forced naturally artistic individuals perhaps laid off or hours cut to experiment with their arts.

My favorite of the night was Angel Cabrales exhibit at Gallery 414. Reminded me of a Charlie Kaufman script but with much more humor. Halfway through browsing the gallery a large group of costumed individuals showed up and filled the place. How bizarre! Yet... how very inspiring. Youth has come back to Fort Worth.

Second favorite was that of Art on the Boulevard which every year my mom or I have bought pieces as it is up and coming young artists. I bought a very psychedelic piece by a young artist about my age and my mom got another piece by "Darla", an artist she has purchased from for the past several years. They have consistently held a great Gallery Night. Darla was a darling, need I say more.

The best party of the night was at Art Space 111 with works from Daniel Blagg which were giant paintings of old vintage signs / businesses decaying among rural settings. I absolutely adored it as I love photographing the same subject. The food was wonderful as well (water chessnut, garlic, wasabi sauce and pita chips? Yum!) and there was live music. The best part of this place is it's location. It is in a very secluded location to the east of downtown Fort Worth in an industrial building that overlooks a gigantic factory. An ideal place I'd live if I had the money!

The best food of the night I'll have to say was that of the Artful Hand. Among their awesome spicy pecans and crazy brie wheels, the 'sushi desert' was beautiful (which I learned later consisted of fruit roll ups wrapping a slice of twinkie sprinkled with dry fruit on top). Of course not to be outdone was the Shear Steel Salon next door which catered Mexican food (tacos, guacamole, chips) along with fruits / cheese, biscuits with ham, and of course a 'full service bar' at the back and a live band in the front. Lovely stilettoed ladies with amazing hair and makeup made sure everyone felt at home. Owner Justin Bates cut my hair a few months back and he is quite the brain for promotions and style. As always I love seeing younger people stepping up in this city and entrepreneuring in new and creative ways.

Here are the things I went away with this evening:

Photo One: Collage and Drawing by Ms Melissa Carson / Photo Two: Chicken coin-purse I bought at Artful Hand. I hope to acquire the full-sized purse soon...

Well alas it is raining all day and perhaps all night again. I am stuck inside and that's ok. I decided it was a perfect time to make a Mint Julep. I will end this blog with my recipe and suggested use.

Mint Julep Recipe
2 cups of water
2 cups of sugar
1.5 cups of mint leaves (remove sprigs)

Start heating the water and add the sugar until boiling
then Break up the large mint leaves over the boiling water, add smaller leaves whole
Wait until mixture reduces into half and has a golden tint, turn off heat and let settle
Strain mixture to remove leaves into container
Refrigerate until cool

Making the drink - pour about two tablespoons of syrup over a glass full of crushed ice. Add some mint leaves and mash with ice. Top it off with bourbon whiskey. Sit in a nice dry warm space and sip on this baby, listening to some Stan Getz and become nostalgic.

It has been raining cats and dogs for the last several days. It's as if the couple of days in the sun of the Caribbean had to be balanced. I will post about my somewhat interesting experiences aboard the 'fun ship' soon but until then I'm trying to rest up before my trip to San Francisco. Did I really book a trip less than five days after coming back from another one? Might as well not even unpack right?

Bottom's up baby...

New York City Day 6: Last Day = Relax Day!

2009-08-17T00:00:00.000-07:00

"I just saw a woman dying on the street, two funeral processions, and a man get punched in the same block in Chinatown. I think I'm ready to go home."

Although my day started off rough (all because I wanted a sesame ball in Chinatown), the rest of the day proved to be a relaxing pace. It had to have been one of the hottest days of my visit, so much so that there were numerous fires in the subway tunnels which caused me to walk on the surface of Manhattan. I attempted to visit the Met but it was closed on Mondays, then ventured through Central Park, getting lost on the way. That's ok! I found a castle, a moat, and ran into Strawberry Fields again. When I finally came to a clearing there I was, in front of the American Museum of Natural History. I had a nice little coconut ice cream bar and headed in to stake out in the cool air conditioning for many hours. Ahhh civilization.

The museum had huge banners for a show called Journey To The Stars which I decided to see. Although it was narrated by Whoopie Goldberg, I was not impressed at all. The content must have been targeted at an audience about half my age. "Something that has a large mass has a lot of stuff inside it!"

I decided that since this was my last day I would go to the East Village and get an awesome slice of pizza at a store I'd wandered by often - Muzzarella Pizza. It was full of veggies and oh so wonderful! I nearly scarfed it down when a nice older Puerto Rican man pulled up a seat next to me and started randomly talking to me. We talked about family and relationships and he was the nicest man ever. He said he'd pray for my safe return home. How incredibly random.

I honestly forgot what I did for the rest of the evening besides take a nice walk on the Brooklyn Bridge and attempt to join my friends at a Bingo night. I arrived at the Bowery Poetry Club a little after Bingo night had started to a drag queen announcing the silly prizes. I couldn't find a seat except at the very back and when attempting to buy a bingo card I was yelled at by some fat girl saying I was blocking the view. I obviously needed a drink but when I tried to order a beer the bartender never brought it to me and I was asked to give up my seat to 'people who had bingo cards'. I'd had my share of New York City rudeness but none so much as the cool artsy hipsters of the East Village, ironically. I headed to Mc Sorelys again as if to completely change the scenery (no drag-queen hosted bingo night for me, I'll take my Gangs of New York City backdrop please). I had a few ales and was finally able to spot Houdini's handcuffs as there was actual standing room this night.

Mc Sorely's on a Monday / Houdini's hand cuffs

I had a great trip full of adventures! I wish I'd have had more time to relax in the city. Sometimes when you go somewhere you haven't been in a long time there is pressure to fit in as much as you can. Perhaps my next visit to the city won't be so hectic, I hope so :-)

New York City Day 5 : Walk, walk, walk, walk....

2009-08-16T00:00:00.000-07:00

Finally I had a good night's rest! I started by day going next door for some coffee and some fruit from their wonderful breakfast bar. It's been so convenient to have the Cranberry Cafe right next to the hostel... great food, 24-hours, and affordable. I've been having to force myself to not eat there for every meal and to actually try out the other amazing foods this city has to offer.

I wanted to check out Hell's Kitchen Flea Market this morning but in order to do so I spent about 30 minutes trying to get around a huge half-marathon race going straight through Time Square. When I got there I felt as if I were intruding on a private party of the vendors. Once again, as for most of this trip it seems, it was a case of 'out and about way too early'. It was incredibly hot today and all they had at this market was full of nice antiques and winter jackets, neither of which appealed to me. On my way out, an Asian man pulled me aside to his massage tent. I insisted that I definitely did not want a massage but he gave me a sample, refusing to let me go. I finally broke loose saying firmly "Don't touch me again." He obviously did not get my business and I bolted out of there.

I decided to head to the Village... again. I was desiring a nice brunch and this seemed to be the area to do so. I walked into Veselka and had a mimosa, the Chef's Omelet (feta cheese and spinach), and some Challah. It was so incredibly delicious, though I'm not sure how Ukranian it was was, haha. An artist Greta Gertler wrote a song about this restaurant (called Veselka) I discovered later and have fallen in love with it! Check it out on the restaurant's website.

I decided to walk down the Bowery to Chinatown to walk off all the food I've even by the ripe hour of 10:30am. I walked past a block dedicated to restaurant equipment, for lighting and lamps, and finally made it to Chinatown. I walked into this place called the White Swan Bakery which had the most amazing array of pastries! I had to try what I can only describe as a 'Sesame Ball'. It was to die for, much better than the already succulent Whole Foods variety. While in Chinatown I decided to venture into the site of a supposed 'Underground Railroad' for Chinese immigrants from the 1880s (at 8 Chatham Square). It was a little basement filled with clinics and therapists and nothing much to see but if my sources were correct, this was the place.

(Photo 1: Ymmm, Sesame Ball... / Photo 2&3: Art on Bowery St)

More street art off Bowery

I continued walking to the Financial District so that I may admire it in its glory on a weekend where all the suits are not crowding the streets. I passed by the Federal Reserve, St. Paul's Chapel, and Fraunces Tavern, all of which were sadly closed on Sundays. I noticed that the Financial District was much like downtown Dallas on the weekend - completely deserted. Thus far I've had horrible timing today, until the afternoon.

I decided to go back uptown to where it seemed everyone and their dog (literally) were - Central Park on a nice Sunday afternoon. Walking through the park I heard some very familiar sounding music... did I hear the Walkmen? Suddenly I get a text message from Ben saying there was a free concert in Central Park - Dinosaur Jr and the Walkmen were playing. How awesome! I found the venue and seeing the large line to get in, I decided to just lay on a big rock and listen to the music echo through the park. Between sets I ventured to Strawberry Fields to the monument for John Lennon. It was a madhouse of tourists and I could barely get a picture of it without someone jumping down to pose. On my way back I ran across 'dance skating' (see video below). Central Park was the place to be on a Sunday! I listened to only a little bit of Dinosaur Jr before heading back to change from a day's worth of sweaty clothes.

That evening I was invited to the East Village to hang out with Ben and his friend Trish (who used to be my favorite waitress at the Meridian Room in Dallas), and Rhett who just got back from Greece and was in town. It was a Dallasite-Reunion! On the way to the subway I ran across a premiere party in Time Square for Madmen. I sat and watched briefly as people dressed in killer 1960s elegant attire were being interviewed and scenes from the previous season were played on a gigantic screen. What great timing I had!

I continued on to the Beauty Bar and arrived just in time for a free comedy show in the back. It was nice to catch up with Trish, Ben, and Rhett and listen to the DJ who eventually played my requested artist - Suicide. I made it an early night, knowing that hanging out with those kids we'd be out possibly ALL night.

Dallasite Reunion!

VIDEOS:
Skate Dancing in Central Park

New York City Day 4: Wondering the Village

2009-08-15T00:00:00.000-07:00

Invoked in a conversation last night was the idea that if we were to visit Edgar Allen Poe's Cottage up in Harlem this morning, Ben would be glad to make us an egg sandwich. Figuring that Rachael and I got in around 5:30am, the chances that we'd actually make it out there were slim. We woke up entirely too late to head up to Harlem but decided it could be fun to visit the Oscar Wilde bookstore on Gay Street in the East Village (a substitute literary reference!). Poor Rachael lugged around a huge suitcase through two subway transfers, up and down steps, and when we arrived in the neighborhood where the bookstore was we searched for a good 30 minutes and could not find it. Rachael hailed a taxi to the airport. We said our goodbyes and now I was officially on my own in the city for the next few days.

I finally found the Naked Cowboy!

Since I was there I decided I was going to find Gay Street if it'd take all day. After all, it was on the map and very close. When you've visited a big city you may have discovered that you cannot depend on the sun's position in the sky to figure out which direction you are going due to the shade of massive buildings. It's almost always the case that on your very last day of your visit you have completely conquered your sense of direction, when you need it the least. I found Gay Street at the corner of Christopher. Unfortunately the book store was no longer there, so I decided to walk north-west past LGBT shops, buying interesting postcards for my friends, until I reached the High Line.

The High Line is a preservation project that converted an old freight rail line into a garden / walk path (mix of industrial steel structure with nature). I have read about it in several blogs and was curious to see its transformation. I decided to walk it for a bit, taking a brief break in the shade and watched people walking by and overlooked the Hudson. Very classy.

By this point in the trip, I had to resort to comfort over curiosity and since my hangover was growing increasingly evident, some decadent underground air-conditioned shopping couldn't hurt, so I went down to the Chelsea Market for a bit. I ventured through some grocery stores and delis, including a nice little Italian Deli with a huge selection of olive oils and balsamic vinegars. I bought a bottle for Mike and continued on, sampling fruits and smoothies and being in awe at the beautiful displays of cakes, cupcakes, and cookies, which fueled by hunger for something to eat.

(Obama cookies! From Eleni's)

I hopped the nearest subway and head to the East Village for some curry, which I've been craving since I've been here. A little book I bought (which has helped / hindered my navigation through the city) recommended I stop at 'curry row'. I stepped into this place called Taj and since it was only 4pm, there was not a soul there so I had great service and the food was out quick. The curry was delicious and spicy, just as I'd hoped. I continued walking and came across a free outdoor festival with locals selling their custom designed clothing, jewelry, and even a wonderful little band playing in the streets. I popped into Fabulous Fanny's sunglasses and quickly popped out after seeing the price tags. One thing I love about the East Village is the smorgasbord of ethnic eateries. Within one block I walked past a Ukranian cafe, Polish bakery, a few Italian places, curry row, and Ethiopian cuisine. I love it!

I returned to the hostel to take a much needed nap and woke up after the sun went down. The day was not over yet, so I headed out to the Staten Island Ferry to relax on a free boat ride and $3 beers. What a pleasant day...

New York City Day 3: Culture and Silliness

2009-08-14T00:00:00.000-07:00

I woke up much later than I wanted to today but I figure I needed to rest in (after all, the past couple of days my bunkmates loved to rise and shine around 6:30am!). It was a beautiful day so Rachael and I decided to head out to Coney Island on the N Train (which had some astounding views of the residential areas of Brooklyn).

Although Coney Island is nothing like it was in its heyday, many people still... love... the... place. When we arrived to a somewhat sad and completely dead scene. The rides were there but the stands were shut closed. Again it was probably another case of arriving too early. I thought this city never sleeps? We got on Deno's Wonder Wheel and had a grand ol' time overlooking Coney Island and the boardwalk. Rachael and I walked around and discussed our feeling of sadness. It was almost a psychic thing. The amusement parks have been around since the 1870s, yet there was hardly anything to show from it. In a way it reminds me a bit of Fair Park when the State Fair is not in season, except completely neglected.

(Photo 1: Dino's Wonder Wheel / Photo 2&3: I pose, she poses, clowns pose)

(Photos 1 & 2: Sideshow Freaks / Photo 3: Nathan's Dogs)

We got our fortune read by 'Grandma' who was eerily insightful. My fortune read as follows:

Some one has just mailed a letter to you.
That letter will keep you from being blue.

Have you been lonesome lately? I see your days of lonesomeness ending. The future holds a happy reunion with a loved one. And no wonder you are loved. You have a very considerate and generous nature and are interested in all who are about you. You are a brilliant conversationalist. You will soon be offered an opportunity to travel. Refuse it. Your best interest lies in staying at home. I see a great financial change in your status in the near future.

Thanks Granny!

Before leaving Rachael and I tried some of the world famous Nathans Dogs (some fresh cut fries and hot hots).

We then hopped on the subway and headed to Ground Zero, the World Trade Center site. Talk about incredible eeriness. The first thing we hear coming out of the subway is a man giving a somewhat tour describing the settings of the morning of the attack. Although there was not much to see, there was a huge chuck of missing skyline that took up at least a quarter mile. It seems like ever time you come out of a subway you have no idea which way your destination is but such a huge chunk of nothingness was hard to miss.

We got back to the hostel and ate at the Cranberry Deli next door and headed to the MOMA for their free Target Free Friday Night Admission - amazing photography exhibits, music multi-media, architecture. Ben met up with me and we both marvelled at the room with measured heights of all the visitors. We decided to pick up Rachael and head to McSorely's, a very old bar from the 1830s. Although it was packed me managed to get a few brews and Ben showed me Abe Lincoln's chair, Houdini's cufflinks, and the eerie wishbones covered in dust.

Ben wanted to show us a few different places that night so we started off at a basement bar in the East Village, then to Brooklyn to a dive called The Subway which had $2 PBRs and skeeball in the back (rad!). We talked for hours about the paranormal, quantum physics, and caught up on the past (old friends he left behind in Dallas, how life is different in New York City). Little did we know but time slipped past us faster than we could anticipate and it was 5am! Oops.

We drunkenly navigated our way through the subways to our separate destinations and I had the very strange experience of walking through Time Square when it was almost completely deserted. I would definitely be sleeping in the next morning... (photo of Ben getting stuck in the Subway doors, tisk tisk!

Ben's Photo Album from this day

Videos:
Top of the Wonder Wheel at Coney Island

Skeeball at the Subway Bar in Brooklyn

Ben talks about Poached Eggs for a LONG time.

New York City, Day 2: and I will walk 500 miles..

2009-08-13T00:00:00.000-07:00

Today I was well rested and Rachael and I decided we were going to spend this day separately. I started off walking to Grand Central Station to admire it's beauty and architecture and to catch the subway to the East Village. Unfortunately for me as an early riser there was nothing open except a few cafes, but that was ok for me. The beautiful stores were barred up and the weather was dreary but there was not a soul on the streets - a very rare sight I would assume. I decided to sit at a little cafe and watch the neighborhood come to life, before heading to the Staten Island Ferry.

(Scenes of the East Village in the morning)

The Ferry was a wonderful experience. I saw the lady of the harbor in all her glory (and behind many heads of tourists) and even got chilly from the cold Atlantic breeze. It was fun to people watch as well... an array of multi-ethnic families all behaving differently. Parents and children, lovers, friends. I sometimes wonder if NYC realizes how lucky it is to have such diversity.

I stopped off in Greenwich Village, walking past the NYU campus and stopping in The Strand (a supposed 18 miles of books, five stories tall). I kept to the first floor, browsing the section about New York City history. I went away with a book on the history of the Subway Transit and a book about the Yankee Stadium for my father. On my way to Union Square to head back to Uptown, I barely missed getting poured on again. Beat ya this time weather!

(Mini cupcakes from Baked by Melissa!)

I tried my first meal from a street vendor - a falafal salad (which was much more unhealthy than it sounds...). I then strolled up to Central Park. It is breathtakingly beautiful this time of year... a gorgeous vast park with hills, trees, with a cityscape backdrop like distant mountains. I began to understand the draw of this city a bit more. People put up with their tiny overpriced apartments because with a slide of your metro card you're minutes away from parks, beaches, entertainment, and any sort of food you're in the mood for. This day in Central Park there were numerous baseball games, Frisbee tournaments, lovers napping in the shade almost completely hidden from all the others.

I went back to get ready for a concert my friend Ben, who's been living in the city for almost a year, invited me to. The Donnas, Pat Benatar, and Blondie would play at Brighton Park for free! I took the Q train to Coney Island and the park was completely packed with people young and old, people sporting full out 80s attire, and families picnicking. The Donnas played only a short set, making sure to get their hit in. Pat Benetar blew us away... she still had that gruff voice of hers. So awesome! We listened to Blondie but after standing for hours, Ben and I decided to head out before the crowd dispersed. It was so surreal waiting at the station watching the lights of the Coney Island amusement park as Blondie echoed through the trees.

We decided we were not ready to end the night and went to Planet Rose, a karaoke place in the Village. The place was tiny and thin and packed with people. In the back were Zebra print couches and leopard print carpet. I had promised that I would sing Pat Benatar if Ben did as well, so we signed up and to our amusement an amazing singer wearing Ben's same hat had signed up for his SAME song earlier. Awkward! Ben got up there and just over-performed and people were much more entertained. I was in my 'own little world' when singing my song, high-kicking and cracking people up. Can you guess the song I chose? LOVE IS A BATTLEFIELD (the song that seems to follow me around on my vacations). Everyone was happy and carefree, the bartender even bought me a shot of Old Crow, which I can now say is only decent IN mixed drinks, not as a shot, yuck.
Ben and I separated ways on the subway. Fun times...

VIDEOS:
Ben and I singing on the way back to the subway after Karaoke

and just for the hell of it...

New York City, Day 1: Splash!

2009-08-12T00:00:00.000-07:00

I woke up slightly hungover to my Italian bunk mate going through an extremely extensive pampering that I will learn is a daily morning habit. I decided to walk around town, wandering into Grand Central Station and a few accessory shops on 6th Ave (I bought the cutest feather headband!). We spent most of the morning slowly waking up and didn't end up 'heading out' until the afternoon.

We took the subway to the Brooklyn Bridge. The clouds were dark and looking as if they were about to spill any time soon but we decided to start walking the bridge anyways to Brooklyn. The views were spectacular! Unfortunately it started pouring down rain as we were half way to the other side and all we had was the shelter of the bridge's arcs and a measly umbrella I decided to bring at the last minute. There we were for about 40 minutes and the rain never ceased. Rachael and I decided we were going to bolt for the other side, and got completely soaked in the process. As we were almost to Brooklyn, a car drives by this huge puddle and like Shamu sends a huge splash onto us. Welcome to Brooklyn! We could not stop laughing, the situation was ridiculous. Rachael's feet were blistered up like crazy and I luckily had shielded my camera with the umbrella. Where were we to go in this situation wet as dogs?

(Rachael and I just saw Shamu!)

We decided to hang out in Brooklyn for a bit, having a pizza at the Front Street Pizza Parlor. Just a bit down the street I noticed was the Brazen Head, this pub I heard about that had a great selection of cask ales and plenty of free food. Upon entering there was a huge table filled with bread, crackers, brie / cheddar / garlic cheese, and pretzels. Best bar food presentation ever! Rachael went with the UFO Raspberry Wheat beer and I tried both the Stoudt's American Pale Ale and Captain Lawrence Espresso Stout. We were exhausted and hung out there for a while, talking briefly with the bar owner about the photography in the place, then make a long trek back to the nearest subway.

The evening was pleasant... I discovered a liquor store down the street, took a long and much needed shower, and hung out with the young men from Australia late into the night (they were drinking Fosters... I had to giggle). We called it an early night.

Videos:

New York City, Night 1: Getting Cozy

2009-08-11T00:00:00.000-07:00

What a rough flight! Rachael and I both arrive at Laguardia and meet up to take a taxi into town. Knowing the Big Apple Hostel was going to be near Time Square, we did not expect the grand arrival going right through it and arriving at the place only a block away. We were both glued to our windows, watching the towering buildings of Manhattan and taking in the strange stench of the air (a mix of street food, and garbage... considering we were coming in the evening before trash pick up the streets were filled with garbage bags.

Rachael ended up bunked with a group of three asian girls who spoke no English. She was not happy. I never got to see my roommates until late at night and early in the morning.
We immediately went out to scout a place to eat as we were starving and lo and behold was a wonderful little deli next door called the Cranberry Cafe. We pretty much downed some Italian pflatbread sandwiches and decided to go explore our surroundings.
On the corner of 7th and 45th was, day in and day out, the same person dressed as Elmo for photographs. I became very fond of him / her considering we passed him constantly. It was night and I walked to the Rockefeller Center and Radio City Hall, passing the smells of curry being cooked on street carts. Rachael was quite distressed with her overzealous roommates so we decided we needed to find a cheap drinking hole so that we may pass out easily the first night. We stumbled upon the Blarney Stone west of Time Square, a relatively empty bar that had great music playing. The bartender was Irish and he poured stiff drinks. We spent the majority of the time entertained by the bum across the street everyone referred to as "Bobby". He was blatantly shooting up heroine as people walked by sometimes doing a triple-take. Stay classy NYC, stay classy.

On the way back we We stopped at this little place called the Rum House where a lounge singer who claimed to have been there over a 16 years sang us some Nat King Cole songs. Between songs she asked Rachael and I if we were singers, considering I was wording the songs along with her (I grew up listening to Nat King Cole). Like a deer in the headlight, Rachael said, "We're EX-singers" and left soon afterwards.
We spent the rest of the evening at the hostel hanging out with a group of Australian tourists drinking Newcastle and talking about the city. They were going on a somewhat tour through America, next stop Las Vegas. A young French guy sat with us briefly. Talk about an international experience. It was a good night to start off our vacation.

New Orleans Adventure: Day 3, Paranormal Mondays...

2009-07-28T15:07:00.000-07:00

Ahhhh, another decadent morning. My mom had signed us up for the New Orleans School of Cooking where we learned how to cook red beans & rice, corn bread, and pecan pie from a pretty famous chef referred to as Big Kevin (Kevin Belton, the "human taxidermist"). I was skeptic but I learned a lot of very helpful recipes and tips, as well as was extremely entertained by Kevin and his stories. It was part cooking school part comedy! He spoke with me after the class was over and gave me some very encouraging words about moving to New Orleans and to contact him if I felt compelled to. What a nice man!

It drizzled all day today, which kept the heat at bay. I had nothing else planned so I decided to go somewhere I always wanted to visit, the Ursuline Convent. Not only has the convent been a huge presence in New Orleans history, but it's a scene of one of my dad's stories of his first ghostly encounters. It was ages ago when he was staying at the hotel across the street and one night couldn't sleep so decided to go out on the balcony in the early morning. While there he saw the shutters on the top floor completely open and the lights on. Curious, he visited the convent the next day and asked if there was a cleaning crew and that they must have been working very very early. He was informed the shutters have not been opened for years and are nailed shut! The entire upstairs area is off limits. Spooky? He's been a benefactor to the convent since in hopes to one day get a personal tour of the top level.
It only cost me $3 to take a tour of the main floor. It was extremely peaceful there. I had the pleasure of hearing a boys choir as I walked through the old rooms of the convent, learning its history.
(Photo Above-Left: Looking into a spooky mirror at the Ursuline Convent. Above-Right: the courtyard of the Convent)

Mom and I decided to take the St. Charles streetcar out to the Columns Hotel for happy hour. Having not been on a streetcar in years, I was thrilled! With a $1.25 flat fare and a wonderful cool breeze coming in the open windows, we made our way to the Garden District and were dropped off right outside the hotel.

The Columns Hotel lounge gives me goose bumps... it looks of something straight out of the early 1900s with dark mahogany furniture, antique chandeliers, crimson velvet wall paper, and the very faint smell of cigar / perfume / booze that must have soaked into the floors and upholstery over hundreds of years. As a child this was the hotel we stayed at often... I have so many memories there. In fact, I would credit my curiosity of architecture and design to my time spent here. It was also where dad, Hayley, and I had many paranormal encounters staying on the top floor which was haunted. The place is so actively haunted that one of the employees there keeps a log of strange and unusual events guests complain about or tell the staff about. She read some to my dad and me one afternoon. I was a believer!
Mom got a little decadent that evening, ordering crab cakes, mushroom stuffed crabs, and drinks. I decided I wanted to walk through the Garden District, like Michael from Anne Rice's The Witching Hour loved to do. I walked for about an hour, constantly amazed by the beautiful architecture and yearning as I always did to lose myself in one of these Victorian mansions.... or at least be able to see inside. There was a storm on the horizon and the sky was a dark bluish grey and so I headed back to the Columns Hotel, where I discovered my mom had had five drinks since I was gone. We played cards in the parlor briefly and finally left for the streetcar.

(Views from the Garden District)

We decided to head to the French Quarter and have a nice little last-night in Pirate's Alley Absinthe House, where I imbibed a few absinthes. Mom decided to go back to the hotel early, and that's when I went on a straaaaange little adventure.

Being quite inebriated on Absinthe, I walked the Quarter and ran into this quaint little bar with some amazing live music and some serious swing dancers. I sat at the back and met a nice couple from California who I danced with briefly (been a while since I did the ol' Charleston). At one point I needed to use the little lady's room so I went to what I thought was the restrooms, these two huge doors at the back of the bar.
This is where it got weird. Really... weird. I entered into what seemed like a very dark but vast area with one light in the very back of the place. I heard a man in a very angry and theatrical voice yell to me "Who goes there!?! What are you doing back here?" I replied that I was looking for the bathroom. "You are not allowed back here! Leave now!!" It scared me quite a bit, this man who was barely illuminated in the far area of the bar. I told the couple I met about this and they joined me to investigate. We discovered there was a gigantic theater in the back and the lights were on now, very dimly lit. Not a soul in there. I discovered later that One Eyed Jacks (the bar) used to be Maxwell's Jazz Cabaret, a speak-easy back in the 1920s. The front area where we were used to be a vet clinic while in the back was a huge bar / theater. From researching I learned there supposedly are a couple of very distinct entities that haunt the place, one including a gangster who used to be prominent and do business in, guess where, the back cabaret area. OooooooOOOOOOooooOOOOoooo. Perhaps it was the absinthe hallucinations, perhaps it was someone cleaning and not wanting to be disturbed, or perhaps I encounter a gangster ghost....
Talk about a paranormal day.

The next morning we had to do one touristic thing before we headed to the airport - Cafe Du Monde. Sitting outside scarfing down our beignets and listening to a guitarist play some sweet Beatles tunes, we talked about how wonderfully the French Quarter is doing and how it seemed to be getting better every day. I look forward to another visit to the city soon!

Videos:
I Interview Mom at the Columns Hotel

Mom Surprises me with an interviews at the Columns Hotel

Happy Hour is Over... but Mom is on Fire

Swing Dancers at One Eyed Jacks

Dancers & Music at One Eyed Jacks

New Orleans Adventure: Day 2, Decadent Sundays...

2009-07-26T23:47:00.000-07:00

I woke up with an eager tummy. Weeks ago I had made reservations for us at Commander's Palace so we hailed a taxi to the Garden District around 1pm. We got there a bit too early so we decided to wander the little garden outside, mom with a Bloody Mary in hand and me with my camera. We were able to get into my favorite room, the Garden Room, that overlooks the garden and one gets a sense of being in a treehouse. The food was nothing less than amazing and perfect, as it always was. We came on a day they had a live swing band and when I asked them to play some Django Reinhart they were ecstatic to get to play something besides the commonly requested songs.

Play me some Django, please?

Brunch for me consisted of a mimosa, Commanders Palace baby spinach salad, pecan crusted gulf fish and some pecan pie to go (beautifully wrapped up like a swan!). Mom had a shrimp remoulade, flounder, and a peaches desert along with a generous amount of booze. Commanders Palace treated us well, as they always do.

View from the waiting area in Commander's Palace.

Feeling way too full, we headed back to the French Quarter to walk some of it off when we were hit hard by a rain storm, causing us to take shelter in a souvenir shop for quite some time. I absolutely love it when it rains here, the streets shine like rugged hems and the sounds of rain drops echo through the narrow streets. I visited the St Louis Cathedral and bought a votive candle to make a prayer for a certain person, popped in the Absinthe Museum, and spent the rest of the afternoon walking in the residential area of the French Quarter. I have an affinity to shot-gun style houses and vivid colors... and the French Quarter was FULL of such architecture.

I met up with mom that evening and we took a few peaceful spins around the Carousel Bar again. Motown faintly played as we sat watching the very scarce crowd. For a change of scene we went to the Old Absinthe House on Bourbon because I was curious to compare it to the Pirate Alley's. Being that it was on Bourbon, it was loud and expensive. The bartender poured a stiff absinthe though, and I thought for a second I was hallucinating when I saw a horse come into the bar. It was a police officer on horseback. We learned "Cherry", the horse, loved the bar olives (like my mom, haha). I barely got a picture before she rared back out.

I ended my Sunday by heading to the Pirate Alley Absinthe House where I met a young couple from Savannah interested in starting up a paranormal investigation company in New Orleans and we talked a bit about our good / bad experiences with the tours there currently. I decided to call it a night when some crazy guy came in and started ranting about punk music. It had been a long day and I had a long trek back.

New Orleans Adventure: Day 1, Easy in the Big Easy...

2009-07-25T21:05:00.000-07:00

Perhaps out of guilt from the night before, mom and I woke up and headed to the gym (and in much agony) before heading back to the Quarter to eat at pretty much the first decent-looking restaurant in town, Pierre Maspero's for crab cakes and barbeque shrimp. Num nums!

We then headed to the French Market, browsing the beautiful art near Jackson Square. One artist was selling skeleton art, my first purchase of the day. The last several times I visited New Orleans I was very upset by the death of the French Market, but today I was thrilled to see a produce section up and running - small, but it was there! Also the Market had expanded with vendors to the entire designated area, something I hadn't seen since Hurricane Katrina. Mom and I bought a dress and a skirt from one of my favorite vendors, an old black man who chain smokes and has the most beautiful selection of sun dresses. We had never talked but today he talked to my mother and me for quite some time. As if he were a psychic, he started telling me that with my beautiful face, good heart, and stubborn personality, I should go into public health. He then proceeded into boasting about his knowledge of history until a customer thankfully pulled him away and we escaped. So strange...

Art outside Jackson Square

We then went to my mother's favorite art gallery in a building near the end of the Market while I explored another street in a heated haze, lured into any shop that had a good air conditioning. On Ursuline near the furthest end of the Quarter, we wondered past the Beauregard Keys House (which I've always been strangely attracted to), and to Royal where we treaded all the way up to the other side, stopping at a cute little place called Royal Blend Coffee House for some coffee and a marbled chocolate loaf. The place had a nice little patio and, best of all, an uncrowded and well air-conditioned room.

Mom consuming some coffee at the Royal Coffee Shop

The evening was relaxing. Mom decided to head to the casino and I for a solo walk through the French Quarter. It's amazing the group of characters you'll see on any given night. I love the street performers. There are those who are very charming and great entertainers despite the amount of talent they really have. There are those who are totally in their own world with only a hat out for money as recognition of the people walking by. There are always occasions going on in the city... such as a church group, a wedding, the obvious Bachelor Party group with beer and 'grenades' in hand by noon. There are the employees who slip right out the front door, who can finally ignore the tourists and shout to their friends across the way about plans later that evening. There are the slowly dwindling goth scene and a slowly rising bohemian scene with people dressed in century-attire 'costumes', drawing the attention of the passerby.
Then there is the tourist... the tourist who can taint the backdrop of the beautiful city with fanny-packs and visors. The tourist who keeps the city ALIVE with business and curiosity. I am a tourist, though not so obvious.

The evening was very relaxing. We met up with my cousin at Pat O'Briens and tried fried Alligator and secretly her and her friend some of our Hurricane. Melody decided to have her fortune read next door at Marie Laveau's Voodoo Shop. She told us later that evening the tarot card reader was spot. on. Apparently Melody should have a future in the paranormal. ;-)

New Orleans Adventure: Night 1, the old haunts...

2009-07-25T01:00:00.000-07:00

We arrived in New Orleans on a Friday night and little did we know we were in the bee-hive of a large congregation of youth volunteers. Driving up Canal Street we watched as thousands of tweens poured out of the Super Dome, anxiety rising due to the fact that our taxi driver must weave through them to get to our destination. We were later informed there were around 37,000 Lutheran kids there for the weekend to help build up the city (and to our surprise my cousin was there as well!).
We dropped off the bags and decided to trek to the French Quarter. Being that we were on the downtown edge of Canal Street, it was quite the walk and we were going to have to get used to it.

Nothing can express the delight I got on the way into the Quarter that night. While passing the Monteleone Hotel, I saw what resembled carousel lights. A former boss of mine told me to visit the 'Carousel Bar' the past several times I went there and I finally found it! Mom and I went in and sat at carousel, letting it circle about one and a half times and listening to a lonely lounge singer at the back. Beside me was a young man reading a Faulkner book who I talked briefly to. He was so convincing about the read that I decided to pursue Light In Augus t as one of the 'hunts' I had during this trip. I always seem to have hunts in New Orleans (remembering a romantic getaway in which we were dying to see the movie Interview With the Vampire in which my beaux explored the entire French Quarter and finally found a copy for us to watch).

The Carousel Bar

We proceeded to the Boondock Saints Bar (named after the fact that it's owned by the city police and that they play the movie Boondock Saints on replay on one of the televisions), one of my favorite bars due to the lack of crowds and the nice wait staff then went to the Pirates Alley Absinthe House, a tacky-named place that attracts the eclectic locals and savvy travelers alike. I had my bohemian-style absinthe with a lit sugar cube and mom had a few mimosas.
While we were on a roll we might as well visit every damned bar in the French Quarter, because mom felt it a good idea to stay out a bit longer. We went to Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop where just nights before I had a dream where I was behind the little piano table singing a slow version of Love Is A Battlefield by Pat Benetar. Strangely enough that night a lady was playing piano at the bar and I kindly requested the song, sparing her the details about the dream. She played another song but it was by Pat Benetar!

Me enjoying an Absinthe at the Pirate's Alley Absinthe Bar

Now this first night was not intended to be the 'crazy' night but some how we continued to stay out. I had acquired a left-behind toy gator at the bar and talked with a man holding a large cross on Bourbon Street. I apparently danced an entire block with another young man from Houma before he had to return to his late night shift at the A&P.
Greetings New Orleans, it's great to be back!

Videos:
Drunken Conversations on the Carousel

Los Angeles, Where Madness Is Common

2009-04-22T16:32:00.000-07:00

I cannot quite sum up the trip to Los Angeles in a practical matter except that it was a combination of madness and learning experiences. First and foremost the reason we came there was for the ASCAP Expo, held in the heart of crazyville Hollywood which I'll sum up as follows:

As neither a musician nor songwriter, I immediately felt out of place through the entire expo. I must say that despite the shameless self-promotion of a few individuals, I met some very amazing artists who shared with me stories, hardships, and inspirations as musicians. Still the best part of the Expo were the ASCAP Panelists who were extremely diverse... ranging from congressmen, lawyers, publishers, famous songwriters, and musicians (such as Heart, Jeff Lynne, Richard Marx, and many others). Despite being surrounded by musicians as friends, I never knew the real business model of how they work on promotion, earning money, and the various resources out there to protect their rights. I learned the basics of copyright laws, etiquette of reaching out to producers and decision makers, and the most interesting of them all how established songwriters made it where they are. Often times coming from a business background, I complain that despite my academic achievements, it really does come down to who you know to boost your career. In the music world, it's achievement, who you know, where you are, and most importantly PURE LUCK. That's got to be rough.
Some of the most memorable moments from the Expo included the interview with Richard Marx, who wrote "Right Here Waiting", describing his coming to fame being so ironic that it was literally like a plotline for a movie. After explaining his rise to fame, the history behind the song, and what it means to him now, he decided to perform the song and encouraged the audience to sing with him. Now keep in mind it was a room full of performer / songwriters and when the chorus came in, beautiful harmonious singing filled the room. I started crying a little.
Some other memorable moments included Heart's interview where they actually performed some of their songs, completely spot-on with those distinct voices still holding steady from the recording years ago. It made me want to quit smoking forever. Jeff Lynne was the most entertaining interview of all. What a character! (and yes, he had on sunglasses). Although I found the interview and panelist portions of the Expo most informative, I got goosebumps at seeing these and other songwriters perform their own work with such passion all the while being very humble. I realize that I love the company of musicians because not only do you have to be humorous in this industry (because let's face it, NO ONE can take themselves too seriously), but I find myself with no musical talent in complete awe and respect not only of the talent in which they perform their work but the passion and love they have for what they do. I wish I had that sometimes...

Outside the Expo...
We found an awesome watering hole in LA called the Powerhouse right in the middle of Hollywood that we frequented between sessions and at night. The place held quite the combination of characters. In Texas style, we ended our welcome the last night when Christine punched someone in the chest for touching her boob.

Every day I walked past crazy drunken pirate and superman characters that danced around front of the Chinese Theater. To save money, we ended up staying at a hostel down the street, which was a new experience for me. We shared a matchbox-sized room with three strangers in bunkbeds, some with questionable sanity... We moved rooms after a sour confrontation with a bunk-mate who had a manuscript on her bed reading "In 2135, madness was common. Murder was rampant, and she was hungry for more" and seeing a blood-stained pillow on her bed. A, how does one say, over-zealous young man who had a fascination with me ended up checking into the place and following me around to which I was flattered but eventually quite terrified. Needless to say when the time came we checked out as soon as we could.

Christine had rented a mustang, or in her words a "status car" which we ended up taking some wild rides through Muhulland Drive, up and down Sunset, pulling all sorts of illegal maneuvers that only Christine could get away with. At one point we were buzzing in and out of oncoming traffic to catch up to some characters driving in a vintage Cadillac who motioned us to follow them to this place called Jumbo Clown Room, a go-go bar frequented by famous people like Iggy Pop and David Lynch. They were absolutely crazy, like Ron Jeremy-type doctors, accountants, and fashion designers with lots of money and absolutely no respect for personal body space. We got a picture with their car and bolted.

Sunday was a beautiful day and being still drunk, it made the terrible encounter in the morning more bearable. We checked out befor over-zealous man could stalk us and got to the Griffith Observatory then to meet some friends at the Getty, a beautiful hilltop museum with the most gorgeous view in Los Angeles. We had lunch and walked the gardens and photography exhibits and upon coming up some escalators stalker boy was there, with a stern upset look on his face wondering why his 'new friends' ditched him then somehow finding where we were. We managed the situation and escaped. It was such a beautiful day for such strange encounters. With a few hours to waste we hit Venice Beach, Christine's old stomping grounds where we ran into the truly colorful characters of Los Angeles... crazy artists, drum circles, beach bums, punks, and gay bodybuilders. We had a few drinks and watched the people then hauled ass to the airport for our late night flight. I shared my flight with the entire TCU Baseball team and Jessica Simpson & Tony Romo. Interesting indeed!

I've spent the last days recovering and giggling to myself about the adventure. I'd like to return again for a longer more sedated visit perhaps. A little less bar-fights, creepy stalking, and crazy driving. That was my taste for L.A. Don't think I could ever move there. I've come to the realization the town is meant for ecclectic social individuals who depend on standing out among peers to make connections through crazy antics, clothing, and rarely extreme intelligence. I would love to visit again, but in a long long time from now.

Hehehehe... anyone can be a star.

Route 66 and the Wild Wild West

2009-04-07T13:23:00.000-07:00

I wish I was talented enough to express the beauty of the Texas panhandle and the New Mexico mountains but I cannot. This vacation was a feast for the eyes and there is definitely something very theraputic about miles and miles of open land and the hospitality of people in small towns who thrive on visitors. Here's a quick recap of my trip.

I headed out Thursday towards Amarillo. Like the majority of the trip it was just me, the open road, some good music, and the trucks. I always wonder if truck drivers separate themselves from the drive. They are paid to go across the nation yet cannot make the frequent stops out of curiousity. I explored this amazing junk yard, stopped and got a bit drunk at the , pulled off to explore some beautiful broken down factories. I must have seen over a dozen signs for my destination that evening, The Big Texan, claiming a free 72-ounce steak, free limosine services to the restaurant, and the ridiculously themed motel. If I hadn't read up on the history of the place, I'd say it's the definition of a tourist trap.

The next morning I headed into the restaurant for some coffee and a Texas waffle. I've never seen so many Stetsons before noon. The restaurant is huge and the smoking section was right up near the entrance, where I shared it with a young french couple drinking black coffee and wearing matching black cowboy hats, a truck driver with a gigantic plate of bacon, and of course my server Rachel, who hovered over me the majority of the morning telling me the most interesting stories.

There must be something about having a camera and being alone: people suspect you're out to document something incredible. She had worked there for 15 years and I noticed quite the aggitation in her voice when telling about the fact that she's never been allowed enough vacation time to travel. Almost reaching 60, she'd never left the state of Texas even. We discussed photography and her many encounters with famous people there, like the time the Munchkins from the Wizard of Oz visited. By the end of my small breakfast, I was buzzing from the coffee that she poured steadily while talking but she insisted I took a cup to go.

I visited the Ozymandias Legs and did a quick photoshoot. Seeing photographs of them I thought they would have been much bigger than they were. Perhaps the fact that they are in the middle of nowhere makes them seem like such a presence. Written at the base was an interesting quote "I'm just a soul whose intentions are good..." I then headed out to Cadillac Ranch where I was almost sickened by the smell of cow shit. Cow patties surrounded the vehicles, some even humorously spray painted on. The smell was so overwhelming I couldn't stay long. Although there were no other tourists there that day, a hroup of young hippie men were out with trashbags collecting the hundreds of empty spray paint cans, all the while making a chorus of clinging aluminum in the otherwise quiet field. I spray painted a small section of a car pink, stenciled a fleur de lis, and wrote a few things before heading off to New Mexico.

The drive into New Mexico was painfully boring so I ended up pulling off at almost every small city along the way, photographing old motel signs and stops along the Route 66. After many road trips I've always been fascinated by wind turbines and in Tucumcari there was a whole Wind Energy Institute. What do you know, there was a wind turbine in the parking lot! I went up and hugged it because it was the closest I've ever been to one. Like mirages, you see wind turbines in the distance but never get close. It was very intimidating.

The wind was almost unbearable to drive in but I continued. I must have massacred a dozen tumbleweeds along the way. I decided to plant myself in Albuquerque for the night at a cheap Day's Inn. The next morning I ventured out to the biggest mountain on the horizon, not knowing the weather conditions or the way to get there. Fuck it, why not. I ended up going for 12 miles up a windy steep road to Sandia Peak, right near the radio towers for Albuquerque radio stations. I was listening to an oldies station at the time blasting "Roots of Rock": doo-wop, country, and old elvis tunes. Pretty awesome station. The peak was like another world... the wind gusts were 50 mph, the temperature never got above 20 degrees, and the view of the desert basin was nothing I'd ever seen before. I saw a trail to go hiking on but about 100 meters in it was nothing but 5-6 inches of thick slick snow so I turned around. I saw, I conquered.

I decided to take the Turquoise Trail (NM 14) into Santa Fe and I must say I've seen some beautiful stretches of land but this tops them all. There was not a car on the road to tail me or attempt to pass so I could just keep my own pace, soaking in the turquoise skies, the tufts of clouds, and the beautiful blue haze of the desert out to the west. I went through the coolest town called Madrid (which used to be a ghost mining town and where parts of Wild Hogs was filmed). It was like an artist commune with weird sculptures, wind chimes, and coffee shops up and down the half mile strip of roads. I stopped in the Java Junction where two locals with dread locks and tattered brown clothes were gossiping about their neighbors and where the ashtrays were made from Illo coffee cans, one where a perfectly rolled blunt half smoked lay. I walked around town and chatted with some stranglers at the old Boarding House Merchantile, then headed to Santa Fe. I remember Santa Fe from my childhood as being a pretty artsy fun place but when I arrived to the main square, I was sorely disappointed and I cannot quite pinpoint why. It just felt like an open-air shopping mail disguised in freshly maintained adobe buildings, filled with expensive fine art, over-priced tex-mex cuisine and sushi bars, and boutique western ware. $2 got me an hour of parking and that's all I needed. I headed out to the little town of Tucumcari to stay the night.

Photo 1& 2: Scenes from Madrid / Photo 3: Awesome store in Santa Fe

I was determined to stay at the Blue Swallow Motel, a gem off the old Route 66 decorated in bright pink and blue neon lights, ornate murals, and glowing with the original baby blue stucco exterior. The owner, Bill, gave me a brief tour of the place, showing the original glass fountain they dug up on rennovation to the garages painted with Route 66 references to the cute little room that he set me up in. It was his daughter's favorite when she visited to study for exams. I have to say it was the coziest motel room I've stayed at in a while... with an extremely warm gas heater, nice carpet and original wood floors, and the tiniest little bathroom with a cubby shower that was so nice and hot.
When venturing to the grocery store down the street I almost felt like an intruder. Every single patron there knew each other and I was entertained hearing the conversations. I could both love and hate living in a small town...

I slept the best sleep in a while that night against the howling wind. In the morning Bill and Terri provided the guests some real coffee and real creamer with an array of unmatching coffee cups (I emphasize 'real' compared to the chain motels' coffee). I talked to Bill and Terri, the owners, for an hour about the management of the hotel, the different kind of visitors they encountered, and let them give me loads of advice on places to visit on my way back into Texas, one of which was the Midpoint Cafe in Adrian.

Adrian Texas was the smallest 'city', all of which seemed to revolve around their one cafe, on the midpoint of Route 66, and the churches. Again the presence of my camera lead to constant attention, story-telling, and service. I learned the Cafe used to be named Tommy's Cafe, after my server who's father started the business. All I mentioned was that 'Bill and Terri sent me" and all of a sudden Tommy runs to the back and an elderly lady comes to my table and introduces herself and asks how they were and how was my stay. I felt like a queen, seriously! Like every tourist stop on the old Route 66, in addition to having the Midpoint to brag about, they were also "home of the ugly pie crust" which after reading the history I was not quite sure of the relevance. Down the road I photographed the Bent Door Cafe which they were rennovating to open, a saucer shaped building with the door bent at the same angle.

(Photo 1: Car outside Midpoint Cafe / Photo 2: The Bent Door Cafe, under construction / Photo 3: The Midpoint Cafe)

I was so impressed by the charm and service of these Route 66 stops that I decided to continue to stop off in all the towns along the way. In Conway, Texas I found "Slug Bug Ranch", a parody of cadillac ranch with half a dozen or so VW Bugs plowed into the ground. I stopped in Groom, Texas to see the Leaning Water Tower of Britten (a wonderful marketing scheme for the owner of the truck stop that was further down the exit). Apparently visitors pulled off at this exit to investigate the leaning tower then, while they were there, why not stop at the 'Leaning Tower Cafe', which ironically was burned town back in the day due to there being no water sources around. You can't have water in a leaning tower!

(Photo One: Slugbug Ranch / Photo Two/Three: Leaning Tower of Britten and old Cafe sign)

I also visited the supposed biggest Cross in the Western Hemisphere and the Blessed Mary Cafe, which relies totally on donation.

(Photo 1: Biggest Cross in Western Hemisphere / Photo 2: Blessed Mary Cafe)

I took a route up north to Pampa, Texas to visit the Woody Guthrie memorial, a sculpture of musical notes out in the field that play out "This Land is Your Land, this land is my land". Ironically, it was butt up to a newly built apartment complex, which made for terrible pictures and terrible irony. This land is your land, but not my land anymore...

(Photo 1: Artwork in Pampa / Photo 2 & 3: Woody Guthrie Sculpture)

The last stop was Shamrock, Texas to photograph the beautiful U Drop Inn building which was probably the most rennovated of the buildings along the route. I had made such good time that I decided to just drive back home a day early because I couldn't afford any more motel rooms. It was a sad drive back... having felt like I was tossed into a ton of different worlds in such a short period of time... but there was definitely something missing from this trip. In addition to the wonderful places you visit, roadtrips are meant for bonding with other people. I had to admit I was surprised to find how uncomfortable being alone and isolating it was, despite the business owners constant chatter with me. However I got to travel how I wanted to... I know how to do roadtrips, I know what to bring, how to plan lodging and food, and got to see the things that no one else would care to see. It was a wonderful escape and adventure.

Portland Adventure, Part 3

2009-01-24T13:09:00.000-08:00

Thursday, January 22nd, 2009

Last night was full of irony. We decided to go to the Plan B Bar, the first place I went to with Andi last year. The drinks are potent and the people are punk. The ridiculously loud hard rock music caused us to hang out outside with the heat lamps. A man came up in search for relationship advice and we chatted with him for hours. “Keep the child in mind first” we pretty much summed it up, staring at boxes of Plan B at the bar. We ended up being the only three in the bar in addition to the bartender, who I spent about 10 minutes teaching the jaw harp. He was so excited and kept asking for it. Fun times! We parted with our stranger-friend, Lloyd, giving him a therapist directory. Strange night eh?

Hair fun

Why wouldn't someone want to approach us for relationship advice hmmmm?

"It's not rock n roll until you take out the trash..."

And thank you!

This morning I claimed I was going to get up early and run. Ha. Ha. Ha. Instead I rolled out of bed and Andi and I started off to the Oregon Coast. I made her an epic CD for the ride and hitting the mountains the sun disappeared behind clouds for the first time I’ve seen on this entire trip. The mountain roads were a bit scary, with snow still built up around the edges and fallen trees. It was nice that it was not windy at all however… when we stopped on the side of the road next to the beautiful creek that ran along side the road, it was quiet and peaceful. We got to Tillamook, a city near the coast and decided to stop at the Blue Heron French Cheese Company for some wine tasting and the biggest collection of samples I’ve ever seen. It was our dream-stop! Outside they had a practical petting farm with Emus, goats, cows, and even a damned peacock. Just down the road we went to the Tillamook cheese factory where we took the self-guided tour, v-line to the cheese samples. Cheese curds were to die for. After being entranced by the cheese factory manufacturing room, we headed to the Rockaway Beach (Ramones song anyone?). There we dipped our feet into the freezing ocean, played with some driftwood, and took lots of photos. We continued along the coast, stopping at a Pirate Statue and Tsunami relief signs, until we reached Andi’s secret beach, the Hug Cove. There were caves! The sun finally started to set and we decided to grab some pizza at the Cannon Beach (anti-climatically named after a ship that sunk and cannons being discovered along the coast. Andi and I honestly wanted to believe it was a crazy pirate military base). Anywho, rest your eyes on these beauties!

Smokey hills

What the hell?

This is us pre-transformation

What the hell...

That lamb was cute...

Free samples at the Blue Heron

The Tillamook Cheese Factory!

Nearing the coast...

Tsunami rock!

I had to join...

Rockaway Beach

This reminds me of the Hurricane Ike Bear...

This is the tide coming in to my freezing feet

Andi emptying her shoes

Blue skies!

SHIT!

Sun setting on the ocean

'Scenic overlook'... aka heaven

Sun setting on the ocean

Time for gay pirate time!

AHHHRG Y'ALL!

Hug Cove

Watch for the tide coming in!!

Pesto pizzas at cannon Beach

The drive back started to get very dark and it was quite eerie driving past huge patches of trees cut down for lumber. The sun took forever to set and Andi became the soundtrack on the ride back, singing Everclear. We met up with Chris, Rachael, and Brett later at an English Pub to swap stories about the coast, Brett’s trip to the Inauguration, and a ridiculous barrage of chicken kazoo playing, beer drinking, and improper things.

DRUNK CHICKEN!

Andi 'watching' my camera

The $118 tab...yikes

Madness insues! Ensues??

Friday, January 23rd, 2008
Andi and I deemed today our chill out day. We didn’t do much except spew stuff on the internet and bake cookies. I discovered a cool little vintage consignment shop, House of Vintage,off Hawthorne where I got a crazy fuzzy goth shirt.

Veggie sticker art

Cookies for breakfast?

This recipe is deemed the best choc. chip cookie recipe in the bloggersphere

What's up hipster?

The most ecologically friendly hostel I've ever seen

House of Vintage

House of Vintage

We decided to go out around 9pm to a bar nearby called Bon Fire and played pool for a bit, played some jaw harp for people outisde. I guess we were not paying attention but we drank extremely fast within only two hours. We ended up communicating via notecards at that point….

Pool time

Olive Beer!

What... is... the... deal...

I literally stumbled out and we were attracted by a huge crowd of people standing outside this place called The Good Foot. Walking in the walls were covered in art and full of pool tables. Andi ordered a drink to my surprise so I did as well and we found our way to the ‘Smoking Room’ which was an alley converted into a room. I don’t remember much except drawing quail eggs on the wall. I finally told Andi we had to get the hell out of there. We left our drinks and headed back, unable to walk straight. As soon as we got to the apartment I fell to the floor as did Andi, laughing and noting that it wasn’t even midnight yet. We’re not five drink bitches, what the hell happened?

The Good Foot

The Smoking Room

Face of insanity

Saturday, January 24th, 2008 Hung…over. Cookies for breakfast. Still surviving! We've debated what to do today... go hiking in the Columbia Gorge, the Saturday Market, definitely need a better diet than cookies and dipping bread sauce.

Until Next Time... CHEERS TO FRILLS!

Portland Adventure, Part 2

2009-01-21T23:00:00.000-08:00

Sunday, January 18th, 2009

Yesterday was Hillary and Andi’s mellow day. I walked in nature, we snagged some cheap clothes at a thrift store (including an uber warm jacket for me!). I took some photos of seagulls and ducks walking on ice and some greenery. We ate salad and drank lots of coffee.

Berries of Portland

Laurelhurst Park

Seagulls and ice!

Cold birds

A shady area near the lake

Andi making us some pretty salads

That evening I tried the whole “not drinking” thing and it turned out just fine! We went to see her friend Christian Ives’ art opening at the Clinton Café. I dug his stuff – he had the Picasso technique but with a bit of humor. We talked from about 7pm until midnight about everything from cultural differences around the US, hair styles, astronomy, tattoos, movies and directors, drunk stories, stoned stories, crazy adventures in foreign cities, artists and painters, cults, and most of all baking. Who the hell can jump from subject to subject? We can! I love how the bars here have water coolers and cups for those who want to ‘take it easy’. I find it humorous still that my ‘taking it easy’ night is a Saturday these days.

The chicken instrument

Only in Portland...

Today Chris picked us up and took us to some scenic areas, like Rocky Butte and Pittock Mansion. The wind was ferocious, it must have followed me from Texas.

Mount Hood

Chris the Mountain Man

Yonder!

An awesome storm coming in

Information about the surrounding mountains

Technology and Nature

There's that crazy wind!

Chris and Andi at the Pittock Mansion overlook

Chris + Mansion

Two goofs

Fuscia Girl

Yum!

I love these poles

That's right!

The rest of the evening we hung out and drank some coffee, red beer with olives, pizza, and then headed to the infamous Striparaoke.
Now… that was interesting. I think I lost my boldness or something because I was nervous as hell singing “Love Fool” on stage with a stripper named Jewel climbing a pole half naked with jingling nipple piercings. I got through it though. The bartender was super cool and every time I ordered with a Texas accent he would say “Since you’re from Texas, and everything’s bigger there…” then he poured a huge ass glass of whiskey for me. Ahhhh, good times. I was surprised how un-creepy the place was, considering the seedy joints I’ve heard about in Dallas. It was mostly a bunch of hipsters, some very happy and carefree strippers, and the scariest “no shit’s going to go down here” doormen. Chris sang the super-group Asia, Andi did the Toadies, and the rest of the people in there chose from probably the biggest karaoke selection I have ever seen at any bar anywhere. Rick Astley was sung, Muse’s “Knights of Cydonia” was sung… we left soon since I was getting way too drunk too fast. After visiting Chris at the porn store and having my mind raped by all vices of sexually, we decided to head home. I fell asleep singing to music again, with the sights of boobs and dildos dancing through my head.

Monday, January 19, 2009
We had a slow rise this morning but due to some minor hangovers. I haven’t done much today except cook and eat. We made a trip to Whole Foods and came back with granola, dipping sauce ingredients, and some stuff for my rosemary fingerling potatoes. Now we’re sitting drinking our teas. What to do tonight. Le hmmmmmm?

Health foods

Andi's rock fountain

Woah Nelly!

Tuesday, January 20th, 2009

BUBYE BUSH!!!

Andi and I ended up drinking whiskey last night and going for a little walk through the neighborhood then watched The Simpsons with West, her neighbor. We decided that today we would get some champagne and orange juice and make mimosas while watching the Inauguration. I have never watched an Inauguration before, it was kind of magical. Andi woke up at 6:30 entertained by the madness in Washington and I stumbled to Whole Foods to get the champagne. West has the cutest little apartment in the pink house next store with two calico cats and a wonderful spice scent. We sat on her floor and watched the madness. Obama was precious when he slipped on his oath to office.

“And in the joy of a new beginning we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get back, when brown can stick around, when yellow will be mellow, when the red man can get ahead man, and when white will embrace what is right. Let all those who'll do justice and love mercy say amen.” - The Reverend Doctor Joseph E. Lowery

"Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.” – Elizabeth Alexander (hell yeah, the harmonica!)

Mimosas and the Inaugural Ceremony at 9am

A little tipsy from the drinks, I pose with the hippie bus

Portland Nature

There are chainsaw massacres outside of Texas?

I went for a nice run in the park then Andi and I went to get the dreaded ‘haircuts’. I will call Andi Samson since she had not cut her hair in almost 10 years and has been seriously debating it for over a year now but got the courage today. We went to Bishop’s Barber Shop, a ‘rock n roll’ shop for walk-ins only with free beer and posters all over the wall. Samson’s Delilah was a very nice tri-color haired hipster chick who had New Kids On The Block trading cards. My hairdresser was a nice young redhead man who discussed politics and music with me. Andi’s hair is so gorgeous short… and she kept the cut off part which now resides in a paper bag by the bed. Go Andi!

The 'before' Picture

Haircut!

My minor cut

We did it for Obama!

We headed to Vancouver to meet her Engineer friends at a nice McMenamins overlooking the Columbia river, where the light of a few low-flying airplanes lit up the river and conversations and celebrations over the Inauguration flowed into the night. We decided to go to a Poetry Slam off Alberta where Chris and a few of their friends were. The place was a bar attached to an old church and poetry about love, hate, awkwardness, and everything inbetween echoed through the place. As soon as I sat down in the pew Chris’ lady friend approached me with a knife and told me to carve into the pew. I chickened out and started to drink at a very quick pace. I met a very loud and eccentric young lady who ran the poetry reading who was from Dallas and her boyfriend, the drummer for a few of Chris’ projects. Out back the poets hung out smoking under heat lamps discussing poetic things… and stuff. It was awesome as a passive observer. The strangest sight of the night was seeing a young man dressed in all black leaning over Chris sitting in a pew. He looked like a young minister giving him a lecture. On the contrary, this young man was a complete psycho with a beautiful tongue. He told me I had classic beauty and that proceeded to read into my life and giving me the prophecy that I will find what I want… what I need… my sign would be waking up to the sound of chimes and sun coming in the window. When that happens, I will know what I want in my life. That’s all he said then he disappeared into the night. Wow. In respect to the reference to playing a harmonica in the Inauguration speech, Andi and I busted out our jaw harp and harmonica and played for the small group of people conversing in the bar-church. I came home and I wrote until my hands hurt. So much weird inspirations!

Poetry Slam Time

The poet ladies hanging out in the back

Chillin' in the pews with Andi

Toilet yard

Wednesday, January 21st, 2009

Andi and I figured we’ve been cooking too much and needed to go to a real breakfast place. We headed to Johnny Ds for good old American food. The place was charming and cheap with checkered floors and tennis balls on the bottom of all the chairs. Andi must have changed her hair at least four times today – Bed Head, Hat Head, Anime hair, Faux Sideburns. It’s great!

Breakfast at Johnny D's

Tennis Ball Socks

Strange neighborhood!

I went on an adventure to the closest grocery store which was about a mile away for baking supplies for cookies. I picked up some free clothes in a box, some rubber chicken instruments, a small jaw harp, and the baking stuff. I got the recipe for the ‘perfect cookie’ and the dough is cooling this evening, ready to be put in the oven tomorrow. On the way back I got lost in the neighborhood and ended up passing an ‘Environmental School’ just getting out of class. I saw a group of parents with bikes waiting out front, a little girl with dyed pink hair running to her father, a self-sustainable farm next to the playground. Am I still in the USA? I passed by Sunnyside Piaza in the last of the week long sun-spree. The paint had faded, I assume, from the snow. I finally found my way back. Tonight Andi and I will be going to the Plan B Bar. I hope all the garlic burps will subside by then.

Wall art on my adventure

Sunnyside Piazza... in the sun!

Sunglasses in sunnyside.

More art...

Until Next Time... Love, Peace and Chickens.

Portland Adventure, Part 1

2009-01-17T14:32:00.000-08:00

Thursday, January 15th, 2008

The plane ride here was rather entertaining visually. I saw the Rockies and what seemed to be an entire area of snow, like a desert. A snow Desert. On our descent, I could see all three huge mountains I was later informed was Mount Saint Helens, Mount Hood, and Mount Adam. The sky was clear and the weather was beautiful! Andi picked me up and we went to the last remaining snow in Portland (after just weeks previous they had days on out of constant snow, almost record levels). It was in a pile in a Best Buy parking lot. We climbed it.

I was informed about the street names on the Southeast side of town where she lives. The names go in alphabetical order one way and in numerical order perpendicular to that. You can tell exactly how far away cross-streets are with some simple math! Alright, we're on SE 18th and Burnside and we need to get to SE 28th and Pine. 10 blocks plus 14 blocks = 24 blocks.

Later we stopped by Chris’ abode where he lives with Brett,an Oregon native. Upon arrival we were greeted with an army of barking dogs and I was introduced to his little gentleman, Froto. Chris had crazy sideburns and short dark hair, quite similar to how mine, used to be but otherwise was exactly as I remembered. We Pandora'd some 80s music and drank some wine and had his lovely dinner of fish and vegetable medley and rosemary potatoes talking of music and possible things to do while I'm here. We drank Brett's home-brewed Wizard Boots Mayhem beer, which I should have known better. We proceeded to get shit-canned and headed down to some bars, then explored the basement and met the cats and explored the garden. Time goes by extremely slow here. Good times. Andi told me that alcohol in Portland is more potent than Texas and I believe her.

(Us on the roof of her apartment. Crazy jackets!)

Friday, January 16th, 2008
I woke up this morning to the television singing “You’re tired and it’s ok, because you’re my friend.” Giggling proceeded. It’s always nice to wake up to Sesame Street softly playing in the background. Oh to be a kid again. I was very tired but we needed to go to the Katie O’Brien’s bar for$3.99 3 eggs special. The day was beautiful, not a cloud in the sky and(relatively) warm. We arrived and the entire bar was lit up in a strange green aura, from the tinted windows. People were drinking already. SHIT. I had my oatmeal and Andi the special. Across the street we checked out sunglasses at a vintage clothing store then headed to a little park down the road where there were seesaws! And a merry go round.

Sunny weather!

I realized I was quite out of it at the Fred Meyers later when I totally forgot my Visa in the ATM machine. Luckily some guy chased me down to give me the card and I kept awkwardly running into him the rest of the time there. Strange.

Andi had some chores to do so I decided to go running in the park a few blocks away. Nothing there looked phased by the huge snow storm they had a few weeks back – everything was green and beautiful and even the ducks were out and about. I’ve never seen so many bikers and people with dogs in one area. I managed to run about three miles in the relatively cold weather but was very proud of myself.

Andi decided we should go to the Artichoke Music Store a few blocks down from her apartment, so we headed out layered up. Upon our arrival it was suggested that I purchase a harmonica tuned in D from the owner because it was the more popular chord. Andi bought a $1 kazoo and the guy at the front informed us about a kazoo fest in a few weeks. ONLY IN PORTLAND.

We walked down Hawthorne a bit further,stopping at magic shops, this cool dollar store (where we bought musical rubber chickens and stickers), got some pizza and headed back to her neighborhood,playing our obnoxious rubber chicken kazoos and not phasing a soul! We theorized that attention whores should not come to Portland, only those who are naturally a little weird and therefore do not get stared at when doing fun goofy things. A guy we met at the coffee shop even told us that we were some funny girls with funny toys.

(This is the Dollar Scholar owner, making us play with bouncy balls by throwing them at her son. This is where we acquired the Rubber Chickens)

(Metaphysical Art)

What are you grateful for today?)

Numnums!

Communications...

Andi’s neighborhood is the shit! We were walking down Belmont past little cafes with cuisines from all over the world (Indian, Greek,Ethiopian?), coffee shops, this bar called Cricket where they watch the game,African music stores, and extremely nice and courteous drivers and bikers. It almost seems… too cool. The people here are very chill too, which is very nice.Andi’s friend ‘got it’ when we snuck on his porch and serenaded him with our chickens.

(Funny note at Andi's friend Jess' house)

Right now we’re sitting in her apartment, tired from all our musical instrument playing, and about to head to some bars down the street.

later that night...

More news from nowhere)

(We asked for popcorn and the bartender threw us some. Excellent!)
Note to self, I will not bring out my cell phone anymore. I see no one with a cell phone at the bars probably because there's nothing but rubbish to communicate in such an environment.

Toby: Best drunk-dialing ever!(chicken symphony we played for him)

Saturday, January 17th, 2008

Last night was quite fun however I realized that all the walking and running and lack of sustenance made me an easy drunk. We walked down to Burnside to Beulah Land which was completely crammed packed with hipsters. We ran into the John, guy that worked at Artichoke Music and his lady friend, Maggie where we briefly discussed Nick Cave and the Big Texan Restaurant. We went up the street to the Chayen? The drinks were cheaper, the bartender was fucked up, and there was a jukebox. Andi and I drew on each other, half of which ended up on my face this morning.
This morning I cooked us some eggs with mushrooms, shallots,tomatoes, and topped with some cheese. Andi made us some expresso and we’re slowly waking up, listening to the Eels. God Damn Right It’s A Beautiful Day.

To be continued!

Boston on Halloween

2008-11-12T18:24:00.000-08:00

I have massive amounts of notes of inspiration from this brief trip to Boston but I will sum up my experiences as much as I can.
This city encompasses aspects of almost all the cities I've visited and loved. I always get a nostalgic rush when passing the warm musty metallic smell coming up from the subway entrances, beckoning you out of the cold and to venture off to anywhere in the city. The towering industrial buildings butt up against the strong remaining buildings from the founding days with a mix of pavement and uneven cobblestone roads to venture across. Smells of roasting nuts and sounds of musicians weathering the cold in hopes for a few donations fill the air of the alleys and streets. I would go so far as to claim the people there are nicest, and funniest, of any place I've visited. They absolutely love their city and jumped at the chance to either show us around, recommend places to go, or talk for hours about anything. Quick-witted bartenders and waitresses would slip in jokes to every drink order or conversation, never upset they were working late in short numbers. If politics were brought up, it was in a lighthearted manner. The weather was not so light-hearted, particularly when night fell shortly before 6pm. At one point I had on almost every item of clothing I packed!
We spent Halloween wondering the city, coming across a haunted history trolley tour, which took us to various graveyards, up and down hills filled with kids and adults in costume running around on the cobblestone streets. Hayley and I started out at the Beantown Pub across the street from an old cemetary and the church where Paul Revere saw the lights "One if by land, Two if by sea", meeting individuals from all over, from New Orleans to Ireland. The next day we spent in Salem, what I refer to now as the Roswell of the Northeast, but witch-themed. Tacky signs covered the old somber buildings, converted into 'haunted houses' while street musicians played salsa tunes. It was morbid... sitting in the graveyard with hedgestones dating from the early 1700s drinking my coffee and eating kettlecorn, watching children dressed in witch and wizard costumes running through the place of rest. Halloween was not a good time to visit Salem, I concluded. I explored Chinatown briefly, but it wasn't quite the spectacle I was expecting. However Little Italy was gorgeous and we had some of the best canole, tiramisu, and coffee ever. The locals there were... most that just friendly... Ahhh Boston for a weekend, times to remember indeed!

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