Prepare for Landing

Istanbul: A Turkish Delight | Day Two

2012-01-22T18:40:00.000-07:00

More than 20,000 handcrafted tiles cover the interior of the Blue Mosque—officially known as the Sultan Ahmed Mosque—a staggering number put in beautiful perspective the moment you step inside this 16th century dome of worship. Before entering, everyone must remove their shoes and place them in provided plastic bags and then ensure no skin is being revealed. Accustom to the constant flow of tourists, the Blue Mosques offers scarves for women to cover up with (even if you’re in tights, they’ll ask you to utilize the scarf). Stick with flip flops in the summer and remember socks and slip-on shoes in the winter for easy in and out access.

It was a quiet self-guided tour along the prayer area, as we just gawked up at the detailed ceiling and took note of a few men praying. This was the first mosque I’d ever stepped bare foot in, and it was a wonderful one to start off with. Perhaps more impressive than even the interior is the massive courtyard, multiple minarets, and one of several domes seen in every cityscape shot of Istanbul.

Another oft photographed dome is just up the street. Opposite the Blue Mosque is the Hagia Sophia (Turkish Ayasofya), a church turned mosque turned museum built in 537. This massive structure (the fourth largest cathedral worldwide) is vastly complex, with intricate details and mosaics that seem to go on for miles. The 20 lira entrance fee is money well spent just to have the honor of standing in this building—one of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen—as it’s like a golden palace, adorned with surreal floating lights that hang from the massive ceiling. If you do nothing else in Istanbul, visit the Hagia Sophia.

In the same area, just 500 feet below, lies the Basilica Cistern. The ancient waterway system is worth a gander for the 10 lira entrance fee, particularly to see the mysterious, inverted Medusa heads. No one knows how they arrived at the cistern, and I wouldn’t have wanted to be the person to discover them. It’s really a quick tour around this structure and you’ll be surrounded by people, but keep your camera on night vision and you’ll get some interesting shots.

Following the tram tracks towards the Galata Bridge, we were on a mission for baklava. Here’s a tip: travel with a map reader, it does wonders for trying to find specific locations (something we struggled with thanks to poor numbering systems and a certain lack of street signs…but at least with Sarah at the map’s helm we had a fighting chance). Crossing the bridge over the Golden Horn, an inlet of the Bosphorus dividing the city, was smile-inducing and a perfect place to take in the magnitude of Istanbul. Fishing poles balanced on the side of the bridge, as fishermen were all at work, most likely gathering the night’s main courses for the restaurants below the bridge.

On the other side, we ventured through some busy neighborhoods and stumbled upon our intended destination: Güllüoğlu Baklava Palace. Featured in the New York Times Frugal Traveler, this divine little find was worthy of the trek: more than a dozen varieties of the sinfully sweet layers of honey, pistachios, and phyllo dough were encased in glass. The ordering process was tricky, but we pointed to our selections, had them weighed, devoured every morsel, and then paid the man at the front. Newly rejuvenated by the sugar rush, we sloshed through an impromptu rain shower to the Istanbul Modern. Contrary to what the Lonely Planet tells you, this museum is not free on Thursdays unless you’re a resident of Turkey. Considering I could barely say please and thank you in the native tongue, I couldn't pass as a local. Thanks, LP.

That evening we were hoping to double-down on our culinary luck and locate a cheap, but well-reviewed restaurant in the Sultanahmet district named Doy Doy. Excitement soon gave way to frustration however, as we wandered hopelessly by all the touristy restaurants to no avail. We finally gave into a fairly unassuming restaurant that had nearly a dozen waiters scurrying around in black bowties. When presented with the menu, we were surprised to see merely two viable items: meatballs (köfte) and salad. Deciding to make this stop an appetizer and not the whole meal, we split a köfte plate and took off. Later we discovered that we had happened upon an incredibly popular eatery for locals that’s renowned for its small menu and barren interior. Tarihi Sultanahmet Köftecisi is allegedly an Istanbul institution since 1920 (and has a great website, check it out!). But that night, it was just the precursor to an even better meal at House of Medusa.

Still in wander mode, we read menus up and down the street until we found a neat garden restaurant with decent prices and nobody outside trying to sell to us. A sign boasted a review from the New York Times and that was the only stamp of approval we needed to give this place a chance. Sitting in a nice upstairs alcove with attentive service, Sarah had aubergine with minced meat and I enjoyed a deliciously savory pasta with cheese, cream, and walnuts. Coming in around 50 lira for the whole meal, House of Medusa was a charming spot and fabulous experience.

The day had been full of adventure and somewhat sensory overload…exquisite mosques, delicious food, and the sights of a brand new city that was unlike anything I had ever seen before. Strolling through Istanbul back to our hotel that evening, we took in the sight of the Blue Mosque and couldn’t help but feel pleased with our day and decision to visit this exotic land.

Istanbul: A Turkish Delight | Day One

2012-01-15T19:57:00.001-07:00

Day One

There’s something about this city—the modern vibe mixed with old world, the clash of East meets West, the mysterious atmosphere set against a picturesque backdrop at every turn—that makes you fall head over heels in love with Istanbul. Perhaps not at first glance. Maybe not even on the first day. But given time, something grabs hold of you and you’re left wondering what enamored you in the first place…

For me, it was the colors, the spices, the kindness of strangers…the taste of piping hot apple tea, the distant fragrance of hookah smoke, the streetside kebabs, the freshly squeezed pomegranate juice…the bridges, the towers, the mosques. It’s all been there for years—for centuries, even. And I was lucky enough to discover this new old world for a wonderful week that will forever reside in my most cherished memories.

This trip features my travel buddy Sarah, a fellow publishing/journalism/yearbook editor junkie from Las Cruces, who now lives in London via Albuquerque. We landed at Ataturk Airport via British Airways after a three hour flight from London Heathrow (about £80 total). Before going through customs, we bought a temporary visa sticker for $20 (to be paid in a currency that matches your passport, so bring cash and avoid lira at this point in the process). It didn’t take long for us to be slightly harassed, as a young man sporting a blazer approached us in the airport lobby asking where we were headed. We eventually sidestepped him and made it to the taxi line, where a man grabbed our suitcases and took off for the furthest cab in a strut akin to a powerwalk. Why we avoided the dude in the blazer and allowed this guy full-access to our bags, I still don’t know. But he led us to a taxi and demanded some money for his trouble (he scoffed at the British coinage—the only small change we had).

Driving along the water into Istanbul wasn’t inspiring, but rather practical. The road was lined with strip malls, restaurants, and car dealerships. But then we saw it: the wall. Not just any wall, but the Wall of Constantinople—enclosing the old city that had been conquered and lost countless times over the centuries. The taxi driver, perpetually stuck in second gear, sped up and down the cobblestone hills and then abruptly stopped on a street corner. He got out of the car and disappeared into the night, leaving two American gals he must have deemed trustworthy confused in the backseat.

Our cab driver eventually returned, clutching our paper indicating our hotel address, and took off again. Two additional stops and a few conversations with locals later, he pulled up to Art City Hotel. Needless to say, he was happy to have located the hidden gem that was our hotel and didn’t think twice about keeping all the change as tip (taxi from the airport cost about 40 TYL…probably less if your driver knows where he’s going).

In the initial planning phase, the Art City Hotel came out on top in regards to price ($66/night), location (behind the Blue Mosque), services (free wi-fi, breakfast, and private bathrooms), and reviews (“hilly, but nice”). Upon arrival, it was clear we made the right choice. We were graciously greeted by Serkan, the hotel manager, who quickly provided tea while he gathered information. The service was impossible to beat and the free breakfast was wow-worthy considering the cheap price of the overall accommodation. And while previous reviews were correct in that it was a hilly location, you’re technically in the Blue Mosque’s backyard and after two treks up two hills, you’re in the middle of all the action.

Free wi-fi on every floor made for an incredible signal and while I didn’t bring a laptop, I was equipped with a smartphone. Let’s take a minute to praise the iPhone, shall we? Admittedly, I was a reluctant convert from a ’05 style flip-phone, but with the iPhone not only was I able to text with fellow iPhone users for free while abroad, but I also had GPS available 24/7 (discovered way late in the game, but still…). If you’re considering an extended trip abroad, the iPhone is a must-have. Sorry, Dad (an avid Android user)!

After checking and settling in, we opened the balcony door just in time to hear the call to prayers. This inspired us to venture into the city and hunt down some sustenance. We garnered directions from the front desk and set off for the main part of the Sultanahmet district, where we caught our first glimpse of the Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sophia. I’m not typically taken aback by architectural beauty, but you’d be hard-pressed to be unimpressed with these superb buildings. They both represent the true meaning of splendor.

Trekking through a populated tourist area on the southeast side of the Blue Mosque, we were getting chatted up left and right by restaurateurs hoping to secure our business. If you avoid every place that calls out to you, you’ll never eat. My advice: go to the proprietor who seems the least sleazy. While en route to finding an appealing establishment we heard a voice yell out to us that seemed louder than the typical vendor. We looked over to see the blazer-clad man from the airport leaning out of a van. “It’s me! We met at the airport!” We waved cautiously, smiled awkwardly, and quickened our step. He then ran out of the van—packed full of his friends, seemingly enough for a full soccer team—and caught up with us. Grinning ear to ear, he explained that he runs a shuttle business to and from the airport and then wanted to know where we were going. Scamming? Flirting? Innocently acknowledging a crazy coincidence? We didn’t stick around to find out. You should know: Sarah and I are cautious. It might make us boring, but hey…we’re still around to tell the story, aren’t we?

We stopped at a place where the young man offered a 15% discount and a free appetizer. Knowing full-well that even the 15% discount was overcharging us, our hunger surrendered to his pleas. It ended up being a pleasant first meal in Turkey: hummus, chicken shishka, and plenty of pita bread. It ended with a free vodka drink from our waiter, who also wanted to be our Facebook friends. This would just be the first instance in a series of marriage proposals, one-sided phone number exchanges, and inquiries as to which Spice Girl I represented as we made our way through a very flirtatious Istanbul.

Day Two coming soon...

New Posts Coming Soon

2012-01-05T10:53:00.001-07:00

Prepare for Landing will return with all-new travel posts this month! I'm kicking 2012 off with the epic travel tale of Istanbul, Turkey. Also in 2012 you can expect reviews of Toronto, Fort Collins, Rocky Mountain National Park, London, and more. In the meantime, enjoy the Prepare for Landing wordcloud created using words from this blog.

Planning the Next Adventure: Tips and Tricks

2011-09-16T12:15:00.000-06:00

I’m a planner. I enjoy making spreadsheets and budgets and charts (usually of the color coded variety). Before a trip, I’ll map out locations, peruse restaurant menus, and read hotel reviews like there’s going to be a pop quiz. And ultimately, the trip is the pop quiz. A failing grade would be crying on a French payphone after missing a connecting flight. A passing grade would be surviving. And the A+? Thinking back on the trip as worth it.

Trips are best in anticipation and retrospect, and maybe that’s why travel excites me. It’s not just the week you’re away, but it’s the planning that goes into it and the memories you keep from it. That way, you’re not just experiencing the trip when you’re on it.

I’ve been craving an international adventure and in a couple months that craving will be satiated in the best possible way. Some familiar places are on the agenda (Toronto, London, and Oxford), but the brand-spankin’ new locale I’ll be visiting isn’t new at all. In fact, it’s one of the most historic empires to ever grace the earth: Istanbul.

As the former capital of the Roman Empire, the Latin Empire, and the Ottoman Empire, to say Istanbul is rich in history does its impressive past a disservice. And as the third largest city in Europe with 13 million people living in it, the prospect of conquering Istanbul is intimidating. Intimidating…but not impossible. So let the planning commence!

Start out with a basic Wikipedia overview of the new place you plan to visit. Say what you will about the free online encyclopedia, but it’s full of all the basics you need to know about, well…anything.

Price out your flights using Kayak’s calendar; it will project the cheapest months to fly. The cheaper the flight, the worse the weather, but an umbrella usually doesn’t cost $500 (the average price difference between flying abroad in the summer vs. winter).

Check the cultural calendars for the city to see the popular festivals, holidays, and events. Do you want to avoid the crowds, or be a member of them? For instance, going to a heavily-populated Christian city like Rome on Christmas might be depressing with everything being closed. However, it’d be the perfect time to go somewhere like Marrakesh.

Crunch the realistic numbers. Not the numbers you hope to have or want to have at the time of the trip, but the numbers you actually have right now this instant. Reservations and flights cost money now, not later. Bust out Excel, check your bank balance, and find the magic number that will make your trip a reality. Then add $300. And maybe another $50. Ok, now we’re in business.

Study up. Guide books like Frommer’s or Lonely Planet will only get you so far. If you really want to appreciate a new area, brush up on your history. I picked up Strolling Through Istanbul: The Classic Guide to the City at my campus library and have already been immersed in the intriguing world of Istanbul, and I haven’t even landed there yet. It helps to build the excitement, understand your surroundings, and get a firm grasp on the amazing place you’re venturing out to see.

Double-check your passport expiration date. Think about it…you’re rushing to the airport, check your bag, head to security, and then whammo-blammo you’re out for the count if your passport is expired. Leave plenty of time to get it up-to-date (upwards of six weeks if you need a new one).

Scour the internet for hotels that have reasonable prices, included breakfasts, and excellent reviews. Even if the place isn’t a legit 5-star hotel, if there are more than 10 reviewers who deem it 5+, consider it better than a Zagat-approved joint. Look at the timestamps on the reviews as well—a negative review from a few years ago in the middle of several positive reviews from last week shouldn’t sour you; what if there was a change in ownership or management? Trust the most recent reviews first. Also, avoid the hotels that only have one or two reviews posted. As for the included breakfast, even if it’s boring, it’s one less meal you have to find and pay for.

Hop on Yelp, Urbanspoon, or another restaurant review website to find out where the locals go. Look up the community newspapers to read restaurant reviews, instead of relying on out-of-date American guide books. And the best thing you can do? Ask. And not just the concierge, but instead the guy holding the door open for you at a local market or a stranger sitting on a bus bench. People love to talk about themselves and their cities—give them a reason to talk.

DVR the Travel Channel. Perhaps avoid the Deep-Fried Paradise or Ghost Adventures segments and look for the likes of Anthony Bourdain instead. While his show often showcases unique eateries that cost more than the computer you’re reading this on, he does present some cheaper options or at the very least, ideas about the type of food you may encounter. It’s worth a watch even to pick up a few phrases or photo-op locations.

Make a plan. Seems basic, and it is. But when you don’t have one? Some things won’t get done. Sure, you’ll have adventures and plenty of things to do, but the beauty of “the plan” is that you don’t have to follow it exactly. Stumble upon an impromptu market? Great! Discover an amazing museum? Super! But general areas and activities should be planned out by the day if you have limited time and money—no use taking a cab to the same place multiple times if you can conquer it all at the same time.

While the above tips won’t guarantee a blast at your next vacation destination, it should help ease some of the stress and gear you up for the next excitement. The world is full of adventure: go plan one.

Oh, Canada: Our Amazing Neighbor to the North

2011-07-01T13:17:00.000-06:00

This is a long overdue, kind of controversial, semi-political, very personal, idealistic ode to Canada. Happy Canada Day!

Talk about a Toronto girl, my mom was the epitome of a polite Canadian who was the product of an Ontario upbringing in the 1950s. Taking trips to the lake, shopping at Eaton’s, and receiving a rigorous education at Victoria College, University of Toronto, she enjoyed a traditional Toronto childhood raised by two kind-hearted, foreign parents. While my mom spoke with enunciated eloquence with only a slight Canadian edge to her outs and abouts, her parents both sported thick accents from their home countries: Scotland and Germany.

Born during the Berlin blockade, my mom was truly an outcome of World War II. Her father, a British intelligence officer serving with the post-war military government in Berlin, started up a romance with her mother, a German school teacher who had escaped to the West from East Prussia. In 1951, the whole German side of my family and my Scottish grandfather sought idyllic refuge in Canada, where they were all treated with the utmost hospitality. And sixty years later, my great aunt is still in Toronto and will be the first to tell you how appreciative she is of the life Canada has provided.

While Americans cling to this ostensibly outdated notion that they’ll accept the tired, the poor, and the huddled masses yearning to breathe free, Canada is the country that actually lives up to this bold vow. The golden door leads to Canada, and although it inevitably has its own issues to contend with, I can’t help but look to this friendly neighbor to the north in awe—a country that is welcoming, humble, and kind. A sweeping generalization, I know, but just look at this nation: publicly-funded universal healthcare, a continuously declining crime rate, and an attainable immigration system. Even in a post-war world in the 1950s while there was a heightened sense of unknown threat and bitterness around the globe (sound familiar?), Canada accepted my foreigner family wholeheartedly.

Comparatively, America is struggling. There’s this fabricated urgency to shut down our borders and refuse entry to those who strive for betterment. For many, the argument has gone beyond the illegal aspect of immigration and morphed into this loathing for all things foreign. It seems the abhorrent behavior of a few fringe efforts leads to national panic over entire sects of people. In Canada, approximately 41% of its inhabitants are first or second generation immigrants and that didn’t seem to negatively affect its ranking as one of the happiest, safest, and most successful countries in the world.

The acceptance of international influence and immigrants as exhibited by Canada has led to great things for its people, and has encouraged them to explore the world at large. While my mom already had a global flair thanks to her parents, living in a multicultural and diverse city like Toronto helped her ease into six years of studying and living in London. "Culture shock" didn’t even enter her vernacular when she resided in Manhattan. And moving my family across the U.S. to a whole new world in New Mexico was just viewed as an adventure.

Growing up, I always thought the world was within reach (and I still do). My mom’s upbringing in Canada influenced the way she raised me and both my (foreign-born) parents insisted we travel to better understand the world. Perhaps that led to a naivety of what’s truly within reach, but exploring cultures by going beyond the border—both literally and metaphorically—while embracing a variety of cultures makes the globe seem conquerable.

In an ever-changing integrative world that’s only becoming smaller thanks to emerging technologies, isn’t it time we accept diverse cultures, people, and ideas opposed to shunning them? Canada has embraced diversity, innovation, and openness the way America only purports to do. As a 25-year-old first generation American, I can only hope to one day see America emulate Canada and truly accept all kinds of diversity the way I know we once did. Conservative Americans need to shed this unwarranted fear and ignorance when it comes to foreign lands and people, not to mention accept and appreciate vast and interesting differences.

While my mom felt very much at home in America, Canada was her original home. She even wrote a book about it for Macdonald Educational called Canada: The Land and Its People. Now when I visit, I can’t help but feel a deep-rooted connection to Canada, and I had no issues—ethically or bureaucratically—getting my Canadian citizenship (a feat that would be a true testament to time, patience, and wealth in America).

So I’d like to end this ode to Canada with a sincere thank you. I am thankful for the chance Canada took on my family back in 1951. It led my mother to seek out interesting places and adventures, and in turn has led my brother and I to do the same. Despite a few frustrations and aggravations, America is certainly full of good people and adventures in its own right, and here’s hoping that it soon realizes that other people beyond our borders and within them are just as good and just as deserving of the adventure. While for the long-term my love (and residency) lies in America, I do have a very special place in my heart for Canada, the land and its people.

Opa: Going Greek

2011-06-19T18:53:00.000-06:00

For this post, I will be digging in the archives; but that seems appropriate considering the ancient history of Greece itself. I was inspired to write about my Greek adventure (circa 1997) thanks to the Greek Festival happening in Denver this weekend, plus the headline news about protests plaguing the nation. But my memories of Greece are far less dramatic, and more akin to a dream. These dreamlike visions are probably due to the fact it has been more than 12 years since I last stepped foot on Greek sand, but also because of the stark beauty and staggering scenery found on the many islands of Greece.

It remains one of my most memorable trips from childhood, as I can still picture the exotic aqua sea crashing against the shores, where white stucco buildings with blue doors were cascading down the hills. I can still feel the oppressive heat atop the roof of the Marriott in downtown Athens. I can still hear the sounds of the bustling streets along the many plazas, as taxis crammed their way through tight spots and tourists shuffled through the crowd.

And then there are the other distant memories that aren’t quite as romantic, but certainly helped to form the identity of the area. Like the nude German tourists showering out of their RV’s parked along the beach. Or the sign in our island hotel stating “If you wanted to be comfortable, you should have stayed at home.” Or the late night sing-alongs in the taverna, which was lit by mere candlelight and had tables lined with ouzo and retsina.

Sitting beachside is not a typical Harben endeavor, but my parents needed the vacation in the true sense of the word; not hustling through city streets and yo-yo-ing from monument to monument, but just a soak-up-the-sun kind of vacation. In these days, we were still living in upstate New York where at least six months of the year were consumed by at least six feet of snow (give or take a few feet). So the trip began in London, continued on Naxos island, and ended in Athens for a few days.

A week on the island of Naxos, in Naxos City, started by landing at the rickety airport. Did I say rickety? Good, because I mean it. Look at this place! Talk about authentic. But as long as the airplanes going in and out of the airport were of the contemporary variety, it was fine. A wild cab ride took us through the winding hills and the dirt roads to our hotel—a whitewashed set of bungalows that possessed both charm and functionality. Until you stepped foot in the bathroom. Cue the cheeky sign touting comfort and staying at home.

There’s no way I can find the exact hotel we stayed in, but its steeped studio apartments and friendly owners are vivid. The list of economical hotels in Naxos is extensive, with prices ranging from $30 to $80 per night—even in season. Whichever hotel you find, chances are it will have spacious rooms with seaside views outside broad windows. Find accommodation with a restaurant or bar, as your fellow lodgers will likely be from all parts of the world and an interesting mix of people to talk to.

My affinity for Greek food started on Naxos, where I enjoyed authentic moussaka, spanakopita, and baklava for the first time. However, it was a rude awakening to discover a Greek salad in Greece consists solely of tomatoes (my antipathy for tomatoes was simply confirmed on Naxos). The restaurants on the island were humble, often run by modest families who looked out to the Mediterranean from their overheated kitchens. Business was less than booming during the day, but as the sun set, the locals and the tourists alike would pile in.

Exploring the island was truly an adventure. The largest in the Cyclades island group within the Aegean, Naxos was once the center of archaic Cycladic culture in the Early Bronze Age. Wherever you find yourself on the island of Naxos, you’re only a few short hours away from a great ruin (such as Demeter's Temple) and mythic legend of yore; the only challenge is navigating the incredibly twisty roads (sans guardrails, of course). When not driving on edge (literally) or swimming in the Aegean, we walked along the stone streets of Old Town, trotted through the dirt roads marked by donkey tracks, and dug our toes into the crisp Greek sand.

Of course, island life got a little old after a few days of creating homemade seashell necklaces and splashing in the water, so it was off to Athens for the rest of the trip. This is where we enjoyed sunsets on the Ledra Marriot rooftop, leisure dinners on the popular restaurant plazas, and treks through ancient ruins.

There are a lot of overrated cities in the world (Budapest and Lisbon come to mind), but Athens does not rank on that list. The energy, the food, and the people all make it a foreign experience in the best possible way. And the setting is stunning, with the Parthenon and Acropolis towering over you like a constant reminder of their historic prevalence. For a child, trying to comprehend the Early Neolithic era (i.e., 6th millennium BC) is nearly impossible, considering a flip-phone is “ancient” in kid terms. But it’s hard to miss the point that 7,000 years is a long time as you stand smack-dab in the middle of all that history.

Athens will forever be my first “foreign” city and perhaps the reason I fell in love with traveling in the first place. Toronto and London were always homes away from home, but Athens presented something completely different—something inspiring, something magical. The sign that suggested you should stay at home if you want to be comfortable sticks with me; traveling shouldn’t be familiar. It shouldn’t even be leisurely. It should be eye-opening, exciting, and at times, uncomfortable. That way in retrospect, trips can seem more like dreams—adventures you have to struggle to recall were real or fiction. Maybe the filter of time and youth has clouded my judgment of Greece. Perhaps if I visit it today, I'd have a completely different experience. But in the end, isn’t that what travel is all about?

If you’re craving more on Greece, especially the island of Naxos, take a peek at my mother’s book: Royal Amber, in which she describes these places so vividly, it’s like you’re there.

Destination: DC/Baltimore

2011-05-23T10:37:00.000-06:00

As soon as we emerged from the dark underground metro station, the rain started to drip down on the DC pavement. I expected the area to be bursting in cherry blossom colors, but due to a late freeze, they weren’t in bloom. With a smartphone in one hand and an umbrella in the other, my friend Whitney tried to find directions to our destination, but we were decidedly off track.

We were lost in the rain without a hint of spring color that our nation’s capital is known for and you know what? It was fantastic.

There’s something about DC that is exciting and beautiful to a tourist, despite the damp conditions on the Friday we were there. Walking along the bustling National Mall with the Washington Monument on one end and the Capitol building on the other, I felt the rush of being steps away from politicians and decision-makers.

However on that day of all days, decision-makers were scarce as the government shutdown was looming. There was a sense of uncertain urgency in the air; the repercussions of a shutdown would have been far-reaching and devastating—not to mention disappointing for visitors. While I’ve “done DC” in the past, my friends Tara, Matt, and Rosie from Albuquerque were there for the first time and anxiously waiting to hear if all the museums on their “to do” list would be closed over the weekend. Luckily, the shutdown was miraculously avoided and it simply made for an interesting day in DC.

Whitney and I eventually found our way to the Newseum, an interactive news history museum on Pennsylvania Avenue. Back in 2004, I received the Al Neuharth Free Spirit Scholarship, sponsored by the Newseum and ever since I’ve craved a visit to this cutting-edge depository for the world’s news. It’s six floors of history and news, photos and broadcasts from world events that shook the public from 9/11 to Hurricane Katrina, the fall of the Berlin wall to the Kennedy assassination.

We met up with Tara, Matt, and Rosie and perused the Newseum for hours. I highly recommend this place, it ranks in my top three favorite museums of all-time next to the Musee D’Orsay and The Van Gogh Museum. Try to win tickets through the Newseum’s headline writing competition every Tuesday on their Facebook page.

After a pub lunch at the Elephant and Castle, we all headed to Ford’s Theatre, which was closed due to a matinee (yes, apparently it’s still functional). Check the schedule before you attempt a visit, their hours are anything but consistent. All was not lost, however, as the National Portrait Gallery is just up the street. Hundreds of portraits line the halls, from a gigantic monstrosity of LL Cool J in neon splattered paint, to more dignified versions of the presidents of the United States.

Since we racked up our culture points on Friday, we took Saturday to lounge and watch baseball down at Camden Yards with a group of friends. It was a double-header Orioles v. Rangers at this “retro” stadium built in the mid-nineties. While I’m a Yankees fan through and through, it was easy enough to root for the home team thanks to enthusiastic fans, a great view, and $8 pints of Flying Dog IPA. There’s a ballpark price calculation one must factor in when justifying buying beer at a stadium:

(# of games) (# of people you’re with) x (miles from home) (beer alcohol percentage) – (start time of game) = Price You’re Willing to Pay

(2) (5) x (17.40) (7.1%) – 4:35 = Price You’re Willing to Pay

Price You’re Willing to Pay = 8.004

Those are some solid math skills right there. Is it right? I don’t know. But I had to try and justify $8 beer, no matter how delicious it proved to be.

After the double-header we headed back to Whitney’s neck of the woods in Jessup where we indulged in some dancing at The Ram’s Head Tavern. It was a rocking little pub with a live band that gave a sense of fun and local flavor. It seems the suburbs know how to rock, and the prices are more reasonable than living the real city life. And there are some picture-perfect options, including Ellicott City, Maryland, which is ranked one of the top places to live in the United States.

While I don’t feel an affinity toward Baltimore at all, I do have a special place in my heart for DC. I think most Americans do. Kids tend to see it on a school trip or getting dragged from monument to museum back to monument by their parents, but seeing DC when you’re all grown up (ish) is a different experience. Besides the fact you can enjoy the bar scene, there are a lot of reasons to like DC as a young professional. From the politics to the landmarks, the food to the vibe, there’s something in our nation's capital for everyone. Even when you’re lost in the rain without a blossom in sight.

Take a Culinary Tour: Around the World in Eight Cuisines

2011-03-31T23:05:00.002-06:00

When airline prices shoot up, vacation time is minimal, or you just can’t get away to a foreign land, don’t let that stop you from experiencing another culture. Instead, take a culinary journey.

I’m not talking Olive Garden to get your Italian fix or Taco Bell to satisfy a Mexican craving, but rather truly authentic restaurants that transport you to another world; restaurants that capture the essence of another country through their ambiance and food.

Most cities will tout expansive culinary options, and Denver lives up to the tall order (it is the Mile High city after all). I’ve discovered restaurants that take you around the world and back…all while staying within the same zip code. Convenient, eh?

And restaurants aren’t the only way to experience a foreign food; take a foray into ethnic cooking and look into recipes with an international flair. Just because you grew up with one type of cuisine, doesn’t mean you can’t explore an entirely different one. Whether you’re using a jar of Patak’s for that Indian flavor you’ve been looking for, or you whip up some German-style schnitzel from scratch, the right ingredients can be a recipe for culinary and cultural success.

So how do you find authentic cuisine that has that magical effect of whisking you away without leaving your city limits? Well, that does require a trip…to the World Wide Web, of course. Visit yelp.com for reviews—the good, the bad, and the ugly will all be represented. Urbanspoon.com will indicate what restaurants are worth a voyage. Google “ethnic supermarkets” in your town, and you might be surprised by the diverse results. Cost Plus World Market offers stacked shelves stocked with interesting foreign foods. And be sure to look around college campuses for a unique concentration of diverse cuisine.

If you happen to be in Denver, here are some recommendations for an authentic meal—eight to be exact. And bonus! No need for traveller’s checks (do those even exist anymore?). While I haven’t been to some of these, I have it on good authority that the following restaurants are the go-to places for foreign fare.

India: Jai Ho
The advantage of working for a university with a large international student population: restaurant recommendations. And the number one place the Indian students tend to recommend? Jai Ho in Aurora. It’s not just a song from the Slumdog Millionaire soundtrack, but apparently it’s truly authentic Indian, specifically from the south. You better order a mango lassi, as the spice levels allegedly reach extreme heights. Other Indian eats: Little India.

Middle East: Jerusalem's
Close your eyes and listen to the cars zoom by and the buzz of foreign languages chattering around you; smell the roasting gyro meat spinning in the kitchen; sense the hustle and bustle of a popular Middle Eastern restaurant. Where in the world are you? A tiny shack-like structure near the University of Denver named Jerusalem’s. With a rustic interior lined with burlap sacks, Jerusalem’s has been producing plates of Middle Eastern goodies—from dalmas to baklava—since the 70’s. The flavor profile of each plate provides an authentic taste and the location makes you think you’re on vacation. Note: If you click the link above, put your sound waaaay down.

Germany: Café Berlin
I can never resist a German restaurant. There’s something about this comfort food that lures me in. And while I make a pretty slammin’ schnitzel myself—must be my German grandmother’s influence—seeking out spaetzel or potato dumplings has become a mission. Cue Café Berlin, a well-known downtown Denver restaurant serving up legit German meals that taste like Oma’s. And if you catch the owner, your German speaking skills best be brushed up because Sie wird Deutsch mit Ihnen sprechen. Other German eats: Helga’s.

Mexico: Rio Grande
Ok, I have to admit…this place is more authentic Tex-Mex than Mex-Mex. Maybe it’s the 3-limit margaritas that put me in a blurry haze of approval, but the simple Mexican meals you get at Rio Grande are delicious, consistent, and high-quality. Coming from New Mexico, it’s hard to nail down a Mexican restaurant that meets my staunch requirements, so I stick with Rio Grande to avoid disappointment. One day I’ll heed my own advice and venture out beyond the border. Until then, bring on the margaritas! Other Mexican eats: Santiago’s. 4 G’s Mexican Restaurant. Jack and Grill.

Italy: Undici
Another recommendation that has yet to be tried and tested, Undici in Englewood is an upscale neighborhood restaurant that allegedly delivers rich, hearty Italian cuisine. This isn’t the aforementioned Olive Garden, but rather thoughtful meals with style and elegance. Sorry, no unlimited salad and beadsticks here. But when you consider the price point at the O.G. (around $15 a plate for dinner!), you may as well go local and spend the same for better quality.

Great Britain: Bull & Bush
The smell of freshly brewed beer wafts gently through this crowded dark pub and you can’t help but believe you’ve been transported to Britain—without the $800 pricetag! However, the best part is distinctly American: all-you-can-eat Fish and Chip Fridays. Order the signature Man Beer IPA, sit back in the dark mahogany chairs, and enjoy the atmosphere. If you have enough beer, you might leave with a British accent. Other British eats: Pints Pub, GB’s Fish and Chips.

Asia: Pei Wei
Don’t skewer me yet! Let me make a case for why Pei Wei—the smaller sister restaurant of PF Chang’s—makes the list. You see, it’s the Pad Thai. It’s delicious. Hands-down best Pad Thai I’ve ever had. Try to beat it, I dare you (no really, I do…recommend another place and I’ll try it). And in terms of atmosphere, this chain restaurant does an excellent job of putting on a show. Sit up at the bar and be dazzled by the giant woks full of fire. The chefs know what they’re doing and the way they play with fire so food can play with your tastebuds is inspiring.

France: Le Central
Sitting in the back covered patio, you’ll swear you’re somewhere between Provence and Paris. The décor, the food, the people—it all adds up to a simply French experience. A different menu every night with reasonable prices considering the quality, Le Central delivers delectable French cuisine with a side of French-speaking natives at the helm. Tap into a crème brûlée or sample a steaming vegetable pot pie with a crust to write home about. This little slice of French heaven? Parfait. Other French eats: Trompeau Bakery.

New Years in Nashville: Long Live Alliteration

2011-02-05T17:49:00.002-07:00

Short and sweet. That’s the best way to describe my 36-hour New Years adventure in Nashville, where the booze, courtesy, and music flow. After landing at BNA, a quick 15-minute drive got us to the Millennium Maxwell House Hotel, a music-themed hotel with impressive lobby and large rooms. Located 2.2 miles from downtown, the hotel provides a free shuttle service and is close enough to the Starbucks across the street to steal wi-fi (I’ve spent enough money at the ‘bucks in my life to justify this action). While typically running for under $100, the holiday price hike boosted the hotel to $150.

We headed out to mid-town to find dinner and to do a drive-by Vanderbilt University. Campus seemed to have a nice Southern flair to it, but it also mimicked the slow drawl…students vacated the area for break, so the vibe was off. But gorgeous brickwork architecture and sprawling green campus lawns make it worth a stroll even during the off-season. Plus, the college bar and restaurant scene is plentiful.

Wander through the downtown region of Nashville in daylight and you’ll quickly gather that most of the action happens in the dark of night. The next day, while crews were setting up for the big guitar drop scheduled for that evening, we walked freely in front of the stage and surveyed the commotion. To get a better view, we trekked over the Shelby Street Bridge—one of the longest pedestrian bridges in the world. Even though bridges aren’t the safest place for two tourists, it did provide some great views of the Cumberland River and surrounding city.

The primary visual element of the view includes the eye-catching statue Ghost Ballet (best name ever?). Funded by the Metropolitan Nashville Arts Commission, it stands 100 feet high and wide and acts as an arty backdrop to the downtown skyline.

With our mandatory culture points racked up, we spent the rest of the afternoon record shop hopping. Past the Rescue Mission and in a rundown neighborhood, you’ll find Third Man Records owned by Jack White of White Stripes fame (RIP White Stripes). Of course, if you’re us in the middle of the afternoon on New Year’s Eve, you’ll find Third Man Records closed. Something for next time. Next up, Grimey’s New and Preloved Music, a small hole-in-the-wall record store off the beaten track and worth the trek. Go beyond the tiny entrance and discover stacks of reasonably priced music. I dare you not to buy something.

Here’s the thing about Nashville: as friendly as it seems, as modern as it appears, it doesn’t feel safe. It’s a fairly basic tenet of travel that you’re going to wander mistakenly into a sketched out neighborhood or two in an attempt to find a must-see place, but in Nashville I felt uneasy most of the time. It took four attempts at various stores before we even felt secure to get out of the car (I’m sure all the parents out there reading this are duly impressed, don’t worry…we kept the doors locked). So when it comes to Nashville, and perhaps anywhere foreign in general, I advise you to travel in pairs, stay aware, and know when to admit it’s time to turn around.

Despite the feeling of slight unease, we were ready to rock downtown for the evening. While Alicia and I joked that hanging in the hotel and avoiding the crowds was probably a better alternative to joining the hoards of drunks, we decided against it; you can’t go to Nashville on New Years and not go downtown (think of the alliteration!). So after a drink and gussying ourselves up (well, as gussy as we gals get), we hitched a ride on the free hotel shuttle with some dolled up Southern blonds who told us the primo locations for New Years. We took note of their advice, and reserved it for our “no way are we going there” list.

Let’s establish first and foremost that New Years Eve is one of the most highly anticipated—and in turn biggest letdown—holidays of the year. The pressure is on to have a blast, and if you’re not trying to live up to the hype, then you’re intentionally downplaying the magnanimous event by coolly saying it’s not your thing anyway. The latter excuse is for people who don’t have plans—not that there’s anything wrong with that. After all, I rang in 2010 in my dreams.

We dropped into the Beer Sellar (107 Church Street), a pretty basic lower level bar that only charged $1 cover. If you like your beer with a side of moldy basement and noticeable lack of fire exits, this is the place for you. The vibe was decent, but it cleared out around 11:45 in time for the guitar drop. We headed out and ended up gliding by the ineffectual security guards straight into the main area, right by the stage just in time to count down to midnight.

The fireworks were spectacular and lasted just long enough to maintain my interest, and even though the guitar drop was anti-climactic (allegedly it didn’t even drop all the way), the crowd made it a worthwhile endeavor. Friendly, polite, and enthusiastic, the downtown celebrators were a hoot.

The crowd then spilled into the dozens of bars that line the main street; cover charges were all forgotten and bouncers were letting most people in. We went into the first bar we found with a live band, which was absolutely on point doing a Journey cover. Magically, we secured two stools at the bar and ended up taking orders for the five-person-deep line that formed behind us. We later ended up singing along with the band in front of the stage. Friends were made. Beers were downed. Tunes were heard.

Set aside your pre-conceived notion of Nashville being just a country music hotspot and recognize it as the music haven it truly is. Rock, pop, jazz, blues—it’s all here. And while the country music scene is huge (Nashville hosts the annual CMA Music Festival), it is ideal for all music lovers, regardless of genre.

We got our fill of 80’s and 90’s rock cover songs and headed to the bar next door, which proved to be a true honky-tonk country joint with old-timer musicians rocking away. We toasted last call with some champagne and then hailed a taxi back to the hotel in the rain. Our bar-hopping experience proved Nashville to be one of the nicest cities in the world, what with the Southern gentlemen and their drink-buying ways and the friendly girls who were always chatty. Even on New Year’s Eve, the bartenders were all attentive and talkative. Overall, and for once, NYE lived up to the hype and proved to be one of my favorite holidays of all time.

The next day, before we departed for Jackson, Tenn. to see Alicia’s brother, we scouted out a Diners, Drive-In’s, and Dives location. Athen’s, a tiny Greek family-run restaurant, had a chaotic, 20-minute wait, but ultimately that resulted in a heaping pile of gyro and fries. Was it worth the wait? Eh. I’m sure Guy Fieri would lead you to believe it was, but it's certainly no diner from My Big Fat Greek Wedding.

The first time I visited Tennessee, I was surprised to find myself there and thought I’d never return. But about a year later, I found myself back on Titan soil and this time, it really was everything I would expect from a hip-and-happening Southern city. From the bar scene to the music scene, the polite people to the downtown vibe, Nashville is indubitably the entertainment and courteous capital of the South.

To Do: Denver

2010-12-03T14:39:00.005-07:00

Does Denver have a bad rap? Really, that's a legit question...think about this. What's a negative to Denver? I guess you could say the unpredictable weather, but who doesn't like a little variety? And I'm sorry, does the music scene just offer TOO many options for your melodic palate? Speaking of palates, I guess one could say the insane amount of microbreweries in the area could potentially lead to an awesome overload for your taste buds.

So it's decided then, right? Denver is the place to be? Ok, good. Because I moved there.

When my brother sent me a listing for what can only be surmised as my dream job at the University of Denver, getting the gig seemed farfetched. But when the stars aligned and I got the job, Denver became reality. That nixed any London plans (apologies to my would-be flatmate Sarah, I owe you), but the opportunity was irresistible. Fast-forward a few months later (after interviews, getting hired, giving two-weeks notice in Albuquerque, celebrating, packing, moving, and settling in)—and here I am, in a new house that’s a 15-minute walk from a new office in a new city.

Unlike previous entries, this post will end as purely aspirational—consider it my Denver to-do list (with some action items already crossed off with the help of friends who have been to visit; thanks to Alicia, Kate, Mike and Erin Schelle, Tara, Matt, and Rosie for coming to chill, plus my brother Mark who is usually my pal in painting the town red). In a dynamic city such as this, one can get overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of concert venues, restaurants, bars, theaters, museums, outdoorsy stuff, stores, sporting events, etc. So I’m busting out the post-it notes and creating a 100%-hands-down-have-to-do-this-while-I'm-here list.

But before we get to that list, here are some tried and true locations around town.

To say there are "plenty of bars and restaurants" in the 16^th Street area seems general and hackneyed, but trust me—that's the best way to say it. With tons of options to choose from, you could be bar-hopping for days. Rock Bottom downtown is my top choice, with multiple seating options including a backroom bar, dining area, and patio. The Falling Rock Tap Room prices the menu so with tax it all lands at an even number (great for mathphobics, therefore great for me). If you can withstand some staredowns, The Tilted Kilt is enjoyable. It has a chuckle-worthy name, but the real kicker is that it's a Scottish-themed Hooters. Sitting on the patio in plain daylight (yes, we were day-drinking, don’t judge) proved embarrassing as passersby did double-takes at the servers' attire, or lack thereof...but the British-ness of the joint makes it worth a pit stop.

The Rio offers delicious Mexican fare and uber-strong margaritas that rival Del Charro. At night, it transforms into a trashy disco, so grab a drink at dusk and then hurry across the street to Freshcraft before the sun goes down. The beer selection is staggering, and they offer smaller ounces to get a sample taste. The Yardhouse will be opening up the street in December, and that's a favorite from Phoenix.

Near DU, Jordan’s is slightly overpriced with hit-or-miss service, but the cozy atmosphere and Strongbow on tap make me forget about its indiscretions. For cheap eats and drinks, Pioneer boasts an incredible happy hour, with $3 pint-size margaritas everyday until 7 (plus, it's walking distance to my house...score one for Pioneer). When giving directions to my house, I have the classy privilege of saying "hang a left at Spanky's Roadhouse." This place is far more couth than the name implies, with mouth-watering burgers and a wholesome feel to it. But if you want to get really townie, hit up Smugs around last-call.

The concert and sports scenes in Denver have yet to disappoint. From Ben Folds alongside the Colorado Symphony Orchestra to Ozomatli at The Ogden, from the New York Knicks v. the Denver Nuggets basketball to DU v. Boston College hockey, Denver entertainment keeps my calendar full (with an adverse affect on my bank account).

DU itself is breathtaking. I walk through the green, perfectly-manicured campus with the staggering mountains in the background and I'm truly thankful for living where I live—especially since I can walk to work through quaint, quiet neighborhoods, yet still be a mere 7 miles from the action of downtown Denver.

But enough with the gloating. Without further delay, here is my forever-fluctuating list of things to do in Denver. If you have any suggestions, be sure to let me know! Consider this a living document, in more ways than one.

Concert Venues
Fiddler’s Green
√ Ogden Theater (Guster in January)
Invesco Field at Mile High (U2 in May)
Bluebird Theater
Fox Theater
√ Boettcher Concert Hall

Restaurants
√ Little India (live sitar music and delish chicken tikka? Yes, please!)
Mustard’s Last Stand (have to go for the name alone—it’s a hot dog joint)
Cherry Cricket (featured on Man v. Food)
Snooze (breakfast of champions)
Undici (gotta wait for the parental unit to foot that bill)
√ Le Central (French food and flair at its finest!)
√ Café Berlin (Ich liebe Deutchland!)
Helga’s (my constant craving for German food can finally be satiated)
Twin Dragon (best Chinese restaurant in Denver? We’ll see.)
Middle Eastern Row (a block of Middle Eastern restaurants on Colorado Blvd.)

Bars
Streets of London
√ The Fainting Goat
√ Pint’s Pub
√ Jordan’s
√ Crimson and Gold
√ Pioneer Pub
The British Bulldog
√ Bull and Bush Pub
Campus Lounge
Stadium Inn
√ Spanky’s Roadhouse
Bonnie Brae’s
Hade’s

Museums
Denver Art Museum (DAM!)
Colorado Ski Museum (Vail)
Denver Firefighters Museum
√ Santa Fe Art District

Outdoorsy Stuff
√ Washington Park
City Park
Mountains (not quite sure how to enter that in my GPS, but we'll find out)
Vail
Idaho Falls
√ Boulder

Stores
Googie
√ Tattered Cover Book Store
Wax Trax Records
Twist & Shout Music
Cherry Creek Shopping Center
Dave-Co Liquors (Biggest inventory in CO)

Sporting Events
√ DU Hockey
Rockies Baseball
Broncos Football
√ Nuggets Basketball

My Two Cents: The TSA Controversy

2010-11-22T10:55:00.003-07:00

In 2006, I wrote an op-ed for The Arizona Daily Star, imploring the TSA to enforce the established airport security rules. The liquid regulation had just taken effect and the PA system continuously reiterated the need to dump your liquids, gels, and aerosol cans. In the article, included below, I indicated that the TSA was always reactive opposed to proactive. So now, four years later, when the authorities are finally being proactive in their approach, I stand by them.

The TSA is catching national flack for invasive pat-downs and incredibly detailed body scanners. My only gripe with the scanners is the potential health risk, which has been debunked considering your flight emits 150 times more radiation than one time through the scanner. I've been through a body scanner more than once at ABQ. Sure, there's an added ten seconds of standing with your arms in the air, but I'm not about to boycott a system that has been established to ensure my safety.

However, I'm not the target market for TSA body scanner protests. I fly about 10 times a year, which is minuscule compared to Up in the Air, but more than the typical family of four who embark on a runway annually for the winter holidays. The people who are enraged over the TSA pat-downs and full body scan system don’t seem to be regular travelers, and their delusions of bunking the system is laughable.

The instigator of the body scanner boycott explains on optoutday.com that they "want families to sit around the dinner table, eating turkey, talking about their experience." Well, that’s not going to happen. If these people opt out, the inevitable delays caused will require them to eat Cheetos from the airport vending machines when they miss their flight. Enjoy Thanksgiving, kids.

There have been reports of improper searches, and it's unfortunate that some TSA employees don't take the moral high ground. However, it also a misguided sweeping generalization to imply all TSA pat-downs are uncouth. While the masses complain that the screening process is inconsistent across the country, I wonder when it has ever been completely standard. I know I can get through TUS faster and with more leeway than PHX. MDW is easier than ORD. LGA is a breeze compared to JFK. ABQ is a delight over DEN. That doesn't make the inconsistency right, but it certainly implies a widespread variation of techniques that work for each individual airport.

This TSA ruckus has obviously turned political, as complainers incite the constitution and their right to a reasonable search. While I understand this argument, it's also ridiculous. You are choosing to fly and therefore choosing to undergo a search. If you refuse the full body scanner, you are subjecting yourself to a pat-down. A simple solution to avoid this: don't refuse the scanner. Empty your pockets. Take off your belt. Avoid carrying change. Don't be a jerk. And if you’re still afraid of ten seconds in a glorified revolving door because one official will see under your clothes? Don't fly.

Airport security has been too lax for too long. And while my tune may change the minute I'm forced into an uncomfortable enhanced pat-down if something goes wrong with the body scanner, for now I thank the TSA for finally being proactive. I prefer an added twenty minutes of inconvenience and a fleeting moment of a stripped scan over the potentially fatal alternative caused by negligent security.

Travel Rules Need to be Enforced;
Published September 2006 in The Arizona Daily Star

Travelers were quickly downing their coffees for the 7 a.m. flight to Los Angeles two weeks ago as the repeating PA system warned against bringing "liquids, gels, or aerosol cans" on board. But passengers were not greeted with strict security as we were led to believe over the past few weeks since the latest liquid rule.

Security on the West Coast was meek Labor Day weekend. It was as if homeland security relaxed the rules instead of strictly enforcing them as made abundantly clear by recent media. It is especially important to have higher security standards when headed to such a busy hub like LAX, which was more stringent than Tucson International Airport when it came to security efforts, but still did not live up to expectations.

Homeland security is always a few steps behind the terrorists; when the shoe bomb threat was thwarted, we took our shoes off and when dangerous liquids nearly made it on board, we dumped our water bottles. Security should be proactive instead of reactive.

Airports across the board cannot simply rely on passengers to adhere to requests to take out liquids or gels opposed to thoroughly checking bags. Terrorists will not feel compelled to throw away any dangerous items before they board because an automatic announcement politely instructs them to do so.

Americans say they are willing to sacrifice a few personal liberties as a way to protect U.S. soil—and skies. That should include time and effort at the airport. Travelers should expect to arrive early to flights so security can do its job. And that job should entail more than a smile and a glance as passengers walk through metal detectors.

Meticulous baggage checks should be administered for all travelers, especially now with the new restrictions against liquids and gels—as ridiculous as that rule may seem to some. Perhaps two check points should be implemented, along with a valid ID check at the gate with the boarding pass. Bags for flights should be limited to one, small, carry-on for essential items only, the rest should be checked.

The x-ray machine should not be the only form of vigilance as passengers go through check points; random searches would be extremely beneficial and that applies to baggage going into storage as well. Society’s slant toward technology could also put safety in jeopardy. E-tickets or automatic check-in counters at the airport are just one less step rebels have to take to get on board without face-to-face interaction.

Though these strategies would be inconvenient for frequent travelers, if homeland security is going to demand harsher rules, then they should be effectively enforced.

Loading Up on Fun: Fort Walton Beach

2010-10-02T10:36:00.011-06:00

Once you show proof of identity, get passed the armed guards, drive along the exercise mud pit, and sneak by the explosive device detonation area, you’ll find yourself in Ammo Country. Of course before all that, you need to get to Fort Walton Beach, Florida. And it might help to have a friend in the Air Force.

For the second time in 2010, I found myself walking along the beach with a Starbucks in hand, and this time I was in northern Florida. My Fourth of July weekend exuded patriotism: fireworks by the beach, an American-style cookout, and lots of beer. Can’t say I’ve done all that before, and there’s no other person I’d want to celebrate our country with than my pal Jo, a Second Lieutenant in the United States Air Force (you may remember her from stand-out trips such as Nice, Paris, Grenoble, Dublin: Round One, and a recent stop-by in Denver).

Flying into Pensacola a day late, thanks to an impromptu stop in Abilene to refuel that resulted in a missed connection in Dallas, I was thrilled to touch down along the coast. Pensacola came across as fairly flat and industrial. Surely there are some more impressive parts to it (surely? Maybe not…I don’t know why I’m giving it more credit than it likely deserves), but either way I was pleased to head about an hour east to Fort Walton Beach.

The view from Jo’s house is that of pure envy for anyone who values beauty and seascape. With waves lapping up along the sandy white coast, boats zooming by at high-speed, and sun-bathers lounging on the shore, it was almost hard to believe that the devastation of the BP oil spill was approaching Jo’s backyard. A deep sniff of the seasalt air revealed a hint of oil fume mixed in, and it was a glib reminder of the struggle going on in Florida, Mississippi, Louisiana, and beyond.

Along with a whiff of oil in the air, there was also a noticeable hint of anger from the locals; anger towards BP, the state and federal governments, and the media. Trucks sported signs on the windshields with the number of days since the spill scrawled out, tee-shirts damning BP were selling on the streets and in stores, and beaches were far less populated than a holiday weekend would normally pull in. Jo and I vigorously discussed the overarching issues related to the spill, particularly the response time and steps being made toward resolution. As always, we decided to put politics aside for the rest of the trip—but there’s no denying on either side that the BP oil spill resulted in far-reaching, earth-shattering devastation. You can donate to the Gulf Coast Oil Spill Fund here.

Fort Walton Beach and Destin were still unaffected, but the proper authorities were gearing up for the worst. Areas in Pensacola were already closed, and it was only a matter of time before the oil made its way to Jo’s neck of the beach. We took advantage of the untainted waters for what little time remained.

I don’t subscribe to the no shoes, no shirt, no problem philosophy, so my flip-flops and tee-shirt landed me in the minority while walking along the Destin boardwalk (apologies if “Under the Boardwalk” is now stuck in your head). Plenty of scantily-clad individuals were hanging out on boats, enjoying mid-day margaritas, and making noise on jet-skis. Deemed the “Red-Neck Riviera,” Destin certainly lived up to the stigma. This kind of thing isn’t my scene, but the experience is one worth having every now and then simply to confirm my prejudice remains intact for good reason.

So skip the ski-dudes or whatever they’re called, and go to Destin for the only thing worth going to Destin for: McGuire's Irish Pub. With nearly $1 million worth of singles on the ceiling and walls, this isn’t a classy joint—and that’s fine by me as long as good beer is involved. Jo and I rocked a pitcher of the red microbrew, and got down to business with some custom burgers. From the Skippy peanut butter burger to the hot fudge sundae burger, you can get pretty crazy in your ordering technique. Or you can put on your fancy pants and get a $100 burger that’s fitted with caviar and a bucket of champagne. My $9.99 sharp cheddar and bacon burger suddenly didn’t seem quite as adventurous. Also of note: the 18 cent bean soup…$18 if that’s the only thing you order.

After an obligatory stop at Starbucks, we headed to the ocean. Now, I’m not a very exciting person. It’s ok, I can admit it. I like reading and television and leisurely bike rides. I don’t like surfing or snowboarding or bungee-jumping. Geez, I don’t even have my ears pierced. So taking a quick, unscheduled dip in the ocean fully clothed is as crazy as I want to get, and Jo always brings out the crazy. Of course, three days later I paid for this spontaneous act and needed to get my ears professionally drained at Urgent Care, but whatever. I may not be exciting, but I’m not a fuddy-duddy. Although, I suppose using that turn of phrase automatically makes me one.

Enough about burgers and beaches, let’s get to Ammo Country (aka Eglin United States Air Force Base). It has all the necessities you’d expect at a top military outlet: state-of-the-art gym, gigantore AF flags, and an immaculate commemorative area dedicated to defunct airplanes and helicopters that played integral roles in past operations. It’s all very humbling and I want to express my respect for past and present American armed forces around the world—thank you for all that you do.

That night we enjoyed some flashy fireworks and perfectly grilled steak on the deck, making it the ideal Fourth of July. The next day we crawled our way to The Donut Hole, a hotspot for locals and visiting celebrities alike. About 30 minutes worth of waiting in line proved worth it for some top-notch donuts and coffee. With that, we were all caffed up and raring to go...just in time to head to the airport. My weekend of Fort Walton fun came to a close as I found myself sitting in the Pensacola departure lounge (sunburned) and reading some terrible airport-only book.

Though I don’t anticipate more trips to Florida in the near future, I did enjoy this one. Long holiday weekends and Fourth of July in particular are best spent in someone’s backyard—especially when that backyard is Jo’s and it’s looking out over the ocean.

So Long Smooth Sailin’: Expect Delays

2010-09-12T21:17:00.007-06:00

Gone are the days of no delays and easy flights. If you can find a flight that isn’t running late, overbooked, or generally hellacious—I applaud your good fortune, and beseech you to be my good luck travel buddy.

Unfortunately, I’ve been on a lot of trips this year that have gone awry. Nothing catastrophic, but little inconveniences that add up to a giant mistrust of airlines.

Take my flight from Chicago to Denver for instance, during which the captain uttered the words, "Well folks, this has never happened to me before…"

Or a leg from Albuquerque to Dallas that diverted to Abilene for more fuel, then missed the connection resulting in a discounted night at Motel 8 along President George Bush Turnpike.

And then, there’s the impromptu plane-swap in Minneapolis en route to New York City after firetrucks escorted us from the runway back to the gate.

Some of the aforementioned situations were handled with grace, others with demonstrated frustration—and I’m talking about the crew, not me. I try not to make crying in airports a habit (save for my first solo trip to Nice).

So with all the obstacles we face while flying that we can't control, here are some tips to ease the experience that we can control. For the frequent flyer, these are pretty obvious tips, but if it saves even a minute or an ounce of frustration, it’s worth it.

Never store your carry-on bag in the overhead compartment behind your seat. The ideal sweet spot? Two bins up from yours.
Don’t fly via Dallas in the summer, Chicago in the winter, or Denver ever.
Carry a few granola bars as sustenance for when you’re stuck in the air or on the runway—even short flights can have long waits. The exorbitant food prices in airplanes and airports will blow your mind (or at least your wallet).
Take two books of different genres to cure boredom. Also, take a serious book to cover up that embarrassing Nicholas Sparks novel you’re sporting.
Never book the last flight of the day if you can help it, and that includes connecting flights. You’ve got to leave room for error, as it seems to be running rampant lately.
If you’re facing a massive delay, make the decision early if you can take the hotel and voucher deal if offered. People literally jump at the chance, so if you snooze you lose.
Avoid ice in the drinks for sanitary reasons, but also to avoid spillage and excess liquid. More often than not, the service comes through faster than a college kid can take a shot of Jaeger, let alone allow time for you to finish a full glass of soda.
Store wheeled suitcases above the 3-seat areas, wheels first. Plus, don’t be the wannabe-macho guy who tries to stuff it in there.
Ladies—wear pants or long skirts or leggings. Think how many backsides have been in the chair you’re about to cozy up in.
Long layover? Use Facebook to find friends who might be stuck in the same place. Or better yet, arrange a meet-up with a friend who lives in that city, like Jo and I did in Denver last month.

Post-trip, use disinfectant wipes to clean up the bottom of bags and purses that hit the ground at any point during the trip.
Load up the ipod with tunes and juice—there are usually outlets by the check-in counter or by water fountains.
Shut your phone off before you board, when you have elbow room to find it. Bonus! You won’t be that annoying passenger talking on a cell phone!
As for shoe wear, aim for comfort and convenience. No flips, tie-ups, heels, etc. The convenience factor is big for the people behind you in the security line, waiting for you to loop the rabbit ears. And the sound of clicking heels running through the corridors might act as a good warning system for people to move out of your way, but how comfortable could you possibly be?
Book your seat in the back of the plane for a better chance of snagging an empty one beside you, plus it’s safer.
Check the seatback ahead of you as soon as you sit down, if your magazine is missing, steal your neighbor’s before they show up.
Never open Sky Mall. The temptation is too grand, and so are the prices.

The ultimate tip? Keep cool when faced with a nuisance, as there are bound to be plenty of them. Control what you can, and if you see me on your flight, expect delays. Happy flying.

Finding Leisure on Business: Chicago

2010-06-29T21:26:00.013-06:00

Ferris Bueller. Pizza. Oprah. Hot dogs. Barack Obama.

Ok, that’s the list. That’s all I knew about Chicago before I landed at Midway. Terrible, isn’t it? Food, a fictional character, and someone who wields more power than most countries combined (I’m talking Oprah, not Barack).

I’ve flown via Chicago many times, but for all the landings and take-offs made at O’Hare and Midway, I never stuck around to explore the city itself. Up until June, my only views of Chi-Town were through the eyes of Steve Urkel in Family Matters or through the eyes of an E.R. in well, E.R..

Cue the Internet Retailer Conference & Exhibition.

Earlier this month, my company sent me to Chicago for the IRCE—a gathering of about 7,000 nerdy internet-lovers who sell random stuff online (from scuba gear to underground swimming pools, wrestling shoes to jewelry). Though I spent most of my time in an overly air conditioned McCormick Place convention center, I did manage to escape at night and do my duty as a travel blogger.

Our hotel, the illustrious Downtown Travelodge, was about a 20 minute/$30 cab ride from the airport. Not to say I highly recommend it. Reading reviews the night before proved to be a mistake, as they lamented the place for the bedbugs and rude staff. I was on edge all night, wondering if the mysterious little bed monsters would attack, but luckily, there were neither bedbugs nor discourtesy. But keep in mind, the place isn’t exactly Shangri-La.Its one saving grace was the excellent location—smack dab in the middle of the Columbia College scene, the area was brimming with youth. With a Starbucks around every corner and a group of twentysomethings carrying lattes around every other corner, it was a fun vibe. Restaurants were everywhere and the Hilton up the street had a shuttle to the convention center (I lusted after the glorious Hilton, clean and lavish and out of price range).

Though you’re surrounded by brilliant architecture and honking cars, you’re also not far away from nature with Lake Michigan splashing up on the shores of downtown. Leafy green parks abound and there’s an odd sense of calm throughout the third busiest city in America. Until, of course, the Blackhawks win the Stanley Cup and all hell breaks loose.

I started to fall in love with Chi-Town as soon as I took to the streets—they were clean and seemingly familiar, with interesting storefronts lined up along the broad avenues. Even abandoned spaces for lease were interesting, as they became makeshift art galleries for local artists. And the people? Couldn’t be more pleasant. It seems like a half-hearted, lackluster statement, but honestly, Chicagoans were incredibly nice. But before I fell completely head over heels, I had to sample the food. …and it passed with flavorful flying colors.

From deep-dish pizza at Lou Malnati’s to a pub-style dinner at Miller’s, from heaping bowls of pasta at Oprah’s favorite downtown haunt Pizano’s, to delicious green curry at Tamarind, the food scene was delectable and affordable. Every meal tallied under $20, including beer or wine, and nothing fell short of the high expectations I assigned.

Chicago is also home to a few eminent entities: the Cubs, the White Sox, and my friend Anna of blogging fame—we might be the only two people from our senior capstone class to keep up with our assignments; see her awesome music blog at http://popapocalypse.blogspot.com/.

Anna and I met up at the overpriced, over-the-top, over-hyped BIG Bar in the Hyatt Regency hotel. The view was spectacular, the inappropriately named “big” drinks were not. We risked looking like the sorority-type girls we disdained in college and ordered cosmos. At $13 a pop, you’d expect a bucket of booze, but when the rinky-dinky martini glasses arrived, it was a reality check that we were in the middle of a city. Of course they were $13 a pop. Of course they were tiny. It was downtown Chicago and happy hour isn’t in a hotel bar’s vocabulary. We switched to beer and I was grateful for my per diem.

I always appreciate being in a place where you can hail a cab the minute you step onto the sidewalk (especially after a martini or two, no matter how small they are). Chicago was chock full of cabbies, but had several alternatives to the typical taxi route. Downtown was certainly manageable to walk, and even though the CTA trains had a knack for waking me up every hour on the hour, the benefits of such an extensive public transportation system didn’t escape me.

You could rack up dozens of culture points in Chicago, with the Museum of Contemporary Art, the Museum of Science and Industry, and here in Chi-Town, even improv comedy troupes could ramp up your cultural score. The Second City comedy enterprise originated in Chicago, and churned out the likes of Steve Carell, Chris Farley and my personal hero, Stephen Colbert.

Going on a trip without any prior knowledge of the city you’re landing in (beyond the fictional and celebrity-fused tidbits you pick up throughout a lifetime), is actually a refreshing concept. I’m so used to rigorously searching Wikipedia and planning details from beginning to end online, that doing it the old-fashioned way was fun and invigorating. Perhaps, that’s just the “Old Chicago” way.

New York: At Night

2010-05-24T22:21:00.020-06:00

When your high school buddy/college roommate is planning to get married, an epic pre-wedding bash must go down. I was lucky enough to be a bridesmaid in my friend Whitney's wedding (it was amazing by the way, but more on the Ruidoso weekend in the next blog post). Being a party-throwing specialist, the duty of arranging a legendary bachelorette weekend rested upon me. After a flurry of e-mails with fellow bridesmaids and a rigorous debate about the desired location, we all agreed on New York City.

There’s a vibe in NYC that keeps you electrified. A buzz, a current, a momentum you can’t feel anywhere else. I used to think that was bullshit, but a couple nights in the city for the bachelorette shin-dig changed my mind. I’m still not a Big Apple convert; my favorite cities remain to be London (Big Ben), Toronto (Big Tower), and Paris (Big Museum)…no big apples in sight. But I’ve warmed up to the city that never sleeps…it might be lukewarm, but that’s still better than ice cold.

Last time I hit the streets of NYC was the summer of 2007, so it was due time I returned to get my decent pizza fix. On Friday we all swarmed the city at various times from various directions. A delayed flight in Minneapolis due to a broken plane (yikes!)* got me in around 6 p.m. so I headed straight for the taxi line. I chose to fly into LGA on account of the cheap $230 flight I booked via Expedia.com and its proximity to our hotel. One $25 cab ride later and I found myself at the Eastgate Tower Hotel.

*props to Delta, who not only gave each person a $100 voucher due to the inconvenience, but also provided us with free wine once we finally made it to 32,000 feet.

A small lobby and an old-fashioned interior had me worried at first, but then I laid eyes on our two-bedroom suite booked for around $340 per night: a kitchen, large living room with full dining table, two bedrooms, and two bathrooms. For eight girls, we had just enough bed space to be comfortable. And the best part? Location, location, location! We were a brief walk away from Grand Central Station and had we all worn sensible shoes, we probably could have walked to Times Square.

After a quick post-plane make-up check, we hopped on the subway for $1.25 one way. If you plan on using the subway throughout your stay, invest in a multi-trip metro card for the duration. But also keep in mind that taxis? Not that expensive. Really…they’re not. Especially if you’re on the subway, realize you’re going in the wrong direction, and need to use up another one-way ride. Mistakes like that can add up, whereas taxis know where they’re going (usually).

Times Square screams consumerism. There’s glitz and glamour and a whole lot of electricity pumping through the veins of the heart of NY, and it’s all worth it for the utterly stupefying scene. Once the sun sets, wander around in awe among the throngs of people. You can spot the tourists straight away—they’re the ones with their mouths open and heads up, staring at the modern age in all its ridiculous glory. Stop in to the Times Square Visitor’s Center and catch a glimpse of the not-so-massive-in-real-life New Year’s Eve ball.

Tickets to a Broadway show were close to sold out, so we spent $30 on an improv comedy act at HA! LMAO (163 W 46th Street)—well, somehow I got in for free, but don’t count on sneaking in with a gaggle of girls who already pre-paid. There are tons of criers along Times Square shouting at you to attend (here’s a hint to shut them up: say you already went the night before and it was hilarious). It was surprisingly funny, albeit brief, but the best part was the $10 long island iced teas with at least $20 worth of booze inside. We appreciated the improv guys calling on our bachelorette to join them on stage, but due to the family-friendly atmosphere, the content was fairly tame. If you want to rock a riskier comedy club, I recommend a late-night show that isn’t afraid to drop an F-bomb when necessary.

Per the advice of one of the stand-up comics, we hit up Bourbon Street (346 West 46th Street) a few blocks off Times Square. The joke was on us because this wannabe-trendy bar looked like a hyped up TGI-Friday’s with louder music and a restaurant vibe. We did an about-face and wandered a bit aimlessly through the streets of NYC (during which we encountered delicious pretzels, nice old ladies, and plenty of amused stare-downs considering Whit was in her bachelorette veil).

Just when we thought our meandering was fruitless, we stumbled upon the coolest place to be in New York City; a new, hip bar? No. A crazy dance club? Nope. A fusion of the two? No way. It was the FDNY at 51st Street and 3rd Avenue. We only wanted directions and ended up staying an hour; what a sight to see: a massive group of dolled-up gals in heels chatting with real life NYC firefighters. Passersby were taking pictures of us, as we snapped pictures of one another sliding down the pole and posing on the truck. One of the guys even walked us over to a nightclub and got us in past the huge line. Now that’s service.

The night led us to Bar 515 (515 3^rd Avenue), a crowded bar with decent Cape Cods and a forgettable atmosphere. The most memorable part about this place was the bouncer—a guy who grew up 10 miles from my hometown and played basketball with my brother. It’s amazing what you can discover with a little chit-chat while checking ID’s.

Joshua Tree (513 3rd Avenue) next door was far more raucous, with a rockin’ 80’s theme and plenty of sing-along dancing to go around. It was that perfect balance of bar and club, in that I didn’t mind being there and the bouncy girls that joined me seemed to hit their dance quota for the night.

We got a late start the next day, had our caffeine fix at a Starbucks up the street, and then headed to the MET. Here’s a tip: it’s free to get in, but there is a $10 suggested donation for students; and in cases such as these, I’m always a student. Funnily enough, I saw the same exhibit the last and only time I was at the MET, and that was the Egyptian mummies in 1995. But it’s always a pleasure to wander through the MET.

After receiving some cultural points, we hurried over to the event of the day: the Sex and the City Tour. It had everything you would expect: a long line of trendy girls, a peppy tour guide, and stops around NYC that were featured in the TV series and films. It included a free cupcake and there were discounted cosmos at “Scout,” a bar seen in the show. If you’re a die-hard fan, I’d recommend it. If you’ve only caught a glimpse of SatC, skip it and save your $40 for a cute pair of shoes (Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte, and Samantha would all approve).

Back to NYC nightlife. The main event ended up being the most disappointing; we had 10 p.m. reservations at Lucky Chengs (24 1st Avenue), a drag-cabaret-dinner show. Oh yes…all three, wrapped into one. There were hoards of people up front and we weren’t seated until 10:30. Being there were ten of us, we were forced to select from a family-style menu of mediocre, heart-burn-inducing food. The “show” itself consisted of a screeching transvestite reiterating expletives and lacking any wit. They primarily relied on audience participation and awkward lap dances ensued. Lucky Cheng’s is not for the faint of heart. It’s also not for a boozed-up bachelorette party, apparently. An exorbitant bill confirmed suspicions that this place is a huge rip-off and should be avoided like the diseases one might find in their lackluster bathroom.

Surviving Cheng’s called for a major change in atmosphere, and we got one at Ella (9 Avenue A) in the East Village. A long, narrow bar up top and a small, crowded dance room below brought about an interesting mix of people. Up the street, we came across One and One (12 1st Avenue), another bar/club combo that could appeal to all tastes within our party. While there, I met up with Alana and John, two friends I grew up with in Morris, NY. It has become somewhat of a tradition to rendezvous in the city, and I appreciate their effort to find the random bar I happened to be in.

Only in NYC can you meet friends at 2 a.m. and proceed to bar-hop into the morning hours. There are two sister bars on 1st Avenue that are worth checking out; one is called Karma, the other is Sutra. We tried the latter and discovered it was also a hookah bar, allowing for a quieter, more relaxed ambiance.

But truly the best experience came in the form of late-night NY-style pizza. There’s nothing else like it the world over; I wake up in the middle of the night craving the cheesy, crusty, carb-loaded stuff topped with pepperoni that overflows with pools of grease. If you’re the type to dab your slice with a napkin to soak up the extra oil, don’t waste your time on NY pizza. If you like to load your pie down with buckets of toppings, rendering it more like a glorified stir-fry, skip NY pizza. If you find Domino’s and Pizza Hut pay homage to truly authentic Italian cuisine, NY pizza is not for you. Any of the aforementioned faux pas are insults to New Yorkers.

By 4:30 a.m. the streets grew a bit quiet, but there was still a palpable buzz. People roamed the roads and occupied taxis flew by in a whir. We hailed a cab and jumped in; my outdated logic of carrying around stockpiles of cash was debunked thanks to the handy credit card swipe machine in the backseat. Oh, technology. You rock.

As I made my way into the dark hotel room, I crawled into bed and stared up at the ceiling. I was jazzed. Electrified. Completely and utterly enamored. Had I just fallen in love with New York City? No…it’s not possible, is it? I’m an upstater through and through. We don’t like the island to the south, it’s not our thing.

But I knew I was in trouble when I even enjoyed my time at La Guardia airport. That just borders on insanity, but it was true. The lines were organized, the crowds tame. The workers even smiled in my general direction from time to time. Reading the New York Times at an airport Chili’s never felt so relaxing—not a word commonly used in conjunction with NYC airports.

The whole two-day trip was a bit of a blur, and that’s probably why I enjoyed it so much. I didn’t have time to notice all the things I typically hate about NYC. The key to a successful trip? Keep it short. One day too long can ruin a good city; I’d rather not have enough time and crave more than have too much time and never want to return.

But no matter what your opinion is on NYC…that buzz? Can’t be denied.

Santa Fe: The Jewel of New Mexico?

2010-04-29T23:27:00.008-06:00

Santa Fe is just dripping with history and culture. With an overpriced art gallery on every corner and adobe homes that date back older than America itself, this Southwest city is a place many artists call home and many tourists call heaven.

Driving to Santa Fe provides a view like no other. Endless turquoise skies meet varied desert landscapes—and it’s not all cacti and tumbleweeds; spots of green can be seen for miles and blue-tinted mountains stretch across the background. Crossing from American soil to Indian reservation land is seamless, but a discreet sign will let you know when you’re passing through Indian territory (that and a not-so-discreet casino or two). The scenery could easily be that from a movie set—one is just waiting for the cowboys and Indians to come galloping around the corner. And depending on which exit you take upon your arrival, the magical aura presented by Santa Fe will stay in tact. But more on the disillusion later.

It all comes together at the plaza—the heart of Santa Fe and arguably the heart of New Mexico. The plaza is where state politics and traditional art converge, where spicy street food meets authentic mariachi music, and where genuine Indian jewelry collides with roaming tourists.

The Roundhouse—the official hub for New Mexico politics, Governor Bill Richardson, and my brother Mark—is a graceful building that is just modest enough to be an appropriate venue for this state. Legislators and senators roam the halls undisturbed, as the hustle and bustle pace seen in Washington DC politics isn’t quite the same here in the land of mañana.

The oldest church in America sits along a side street, often paling in comparison to the cathedral and the church with the winding staircase. All three are worth an exterior photo-op, but not all are worth going inside. The Loretto Chapel charges a $5 entry fee and in the words of my friend Caitlyn, I don’t pay to see houses of worship.

Restaurants serving up local fare in this area are typically overpriced and on the snooty side of things, but don’t despair! Affordable delectability is within reach. Santa Fe is a culinary mecca, ranging from the über expensive to the more reasonably priced grub, there’s a fit for every craving and wallet size. Here are some of my favorites—all for under $20.

Del Charro at the Inn of the Governor (101 West Alameda Street) is one of my all-time favorite spots worldwide. You’ve got to stop in for a legendary margarita ($6.50) and ignore dietary restraints for a flavorful bite of the nachos ($7). Whether you reside fireside in the cozy interior, or enjoy the enclosed porch with heaters blazing in the winter, you’re bound to enjoy a meal at this charming stop.

Craving Indian? I’ve been going to the Indian Palace (227 Don Gaspar Avenue) for as long as I can remember—even way back when I detested Indian food (oh, what a misguided child I was). It didn’t take long for me to fall in love with Indian cuisine—the papadums and mango lassies helped charm me into a food-induced trance that has yet to end. A friendly owner, atmospheric interior dining room, and spacious patio setting will get you to stay, but the food stirred, simmered and cooked to perfection will get you to go back for more.

There’s a fair share of decent pubs throughout SF, from the Marble Tap Room (60 East San Francisco Street) brewing the best of Marble beer overlooking the plaza, to the Second Street Brewing Company (1814 Second Street) on the railroad tracks, you can get a hoppy buzz all over town. My favorite watering hole is The Blue Corn Café & Brewery, with a combination of excellent beer on tap and killer food and all at a very un-Santa Fe price, this is the five-star brew pub in my book. But beware! Don’t go to the dark and moody downtown version, instead make the trek to the southside and visit 4056 Cerrillos Road for your Blue Corn experience.

New Mexico is the only state with an official question, so be prepared to answer “red or green” when you hit these must-have Mexican restaurants: Tia Sophia’s (210 West San Francisco Street), The Zia Diner (326 South Guadalupe Street), and best of all, Tecolote (1203 Cerrillos Road). And if you have time to head off the beaten track, visit Harry’s Roadhouse (96 Old Las Vegas Highway) for some decent diner food with a Mexican twist that was featured on Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives (and is allegedly Gene Hackman’s favorite local haunt)!

Art fans will enjoy the Georgia O’Keefe museum (217 Johnson Street) walking distance from the plaza. You’ll discover the intimate details of O’Keefe’s life and inspirations, along with the majority of her personal work. But if you can’t spare $15 a pop, check out the Lifetime movie.

St. John’s College provides spectacular views and a cozy college feel. I toured this place while in high school, but was instantly turned off when they described that not only would we dissect a cat for the scientific value, but we’d also discuss the philosophical implications of the death of that cat. Um, no thanks. St. John’s tends to produce a lot of overly-educated, philosophically-inclined, about-to-be-unemployed existentialists with rich parents. And even their graduates will tell you that.

There’s certainly an allure to Santa Fe, but to truly understand it, you need to think outside the box; in this case, the box is the plaza. Sure, it’s magical and all that nonsense, but it’s also slightly sketch. Explore the Wal-Mart and you’ll see what I’m talking about. There’s a not-so-shiny side to the jewel of New Mexico, but I don’t recommend you look too deeply into it. I don’t want to burst your allusion of this artist’s haven in the middle of the desert. So go…explore the plaza, eat the food, enjoy the atmosphere. But between you and me? It’s overrated.

Super Sunny Spring Fling: Sarasota, Florida

2010-03-28T21:05:00.009-06:00

Florida may be home to oranges, hanging chads, and retirees, but it is also home to my friend Caitlyn from grad school. I’ve been threatening her with a visit to her hometown of Sarasota for months, so with Yankee spring training scheduled and a weekend get-away on my must-do list, I booked my flight for March.

My limited—yet vivid—memories of Florida are likely akin to yours: riding the Dumbo ride at Disney, wandering around Epcot, swimming at the beach, meeting Minnie Mouse (she knocked my mom’s sunglasses off her head mid-hug). So I was eager for my first trip to Florida as an adult, where I’d achieve unique memories from a non-Disney perspective.

And boy howdy, was that first perspective an incredible one—landing in Tampa, the sun glistened off the water and it looked as if we were headed straight for it. Driving over the Sunshine Skyway has a nice ring to it and the uninterrupted view of the bays and Gulf of Mexico are picture-perfect.

Entering Sarasota, a city of about 50,000 people ranging from students to oldster Northeastern transplants, I was impressed with the surroundings. There wasn’t a hint of touristy gimmicks and the water surrounded us, boats bobbing up and down in the harbor and an 80-foot statue of a sailor kissing his gal…ok, so there may have been some signs of gimmicks.

If you’re craving a dose of tourism, then there are plenty of keys lined with shops, bars, and restaurants to visit. St. Almond Key (ok, so it’s really called St. Armond but whatever) is crawling with tourists and locals alike, and it’s just a hop and a skip—not even a jump—away from the beach. Or check out the many other keys in Sarasota, from Otter Key to Coon Key, Bird Key to Siesta Key.

Caitlyn and I relived our grad school days and did a mini British pub crawl, hitting up Shakespeare’s and the Cock and Bull (they certainly had the names down). It was at Shakespeare’s where my dreams of finding British alcohol in America came true—they had Strongbow Cider…on tap. Glory! Then a couple stouts ‘round the open-pit fire at the Cock and Bull capped off the evening.

Steinbrenner Field in Tampa is home to Yankee spring training, where the boys in pinstripes get together for a month of scrimmage games and warm-up practices. Coming off a World Series win in early November, these guys have been enjoying the off-season since and spring training is the time to shake off the cleats and wave hello to the fans. Seating about 11,000 fans, Saturday’s game was packed to the brim and we scored upper deck seats along the left field line. Playing the Blue Jays, my prediction of pure Yankee domination failed to come true as they lost 9 to 1. Pretty pathetic, guys.

Luckily, my studly Yanks didn't let me down post-game as we waited above the locker room exit, like the girly stalkers we truly are. We were privy to several players making their way to the parking lot, with a few even stopping to sign balls. The best sighting of the day was catching a glimpse of the one-and-only Jorge Posada. He gave a wave as the crowd greeted him with a "hip-hip-Jorge” and we saw him get into his Porsche 911 Turbo and zoom off, predictably to the stately residential community he shares with the likes of Derek Jeter.

Saturday night out in Sarasota has apparently been revolutionized by the transformed downtown scene. Once a place to be avoided, now it’s tough to even snag a parking spot as the city’s youth flocks to this central spot. With lots of options to choose from, we ended up at Ceviche, a trendy Tapas bar with four floors of fun—a dining room, a Flemenco room, a bar, and a rooftop bar equipped with heaters and a view. Here’s a travel money-saving tip: don’t open a tab at the bar and take a sip of delicious white sangria if you want to save money. Oh well, it was entirely worth it.

What is noticeably lacking from my Florida vaca was seafood…and it remained that way intentionally. The only thing I detest more than sushi is seafood. Lobster? Should have stayed a talking friend to the Little Mermaid. Crabs? Keep chillin’ under the ocean, guys. Oysters? Blurgh. Yup… so gross I made up a word for it. So with that in mind, Caitlyn was kind enough to avoid all seafood eateries and instead took me to a seaside eatery.

The Old Salty Dog is off the beaten path, yet it was packed full of patrons salivating for some grub. We beat the crowd and secured “the best seat in the house,” out of the sun and looking out onto the water. From fish sandwiches to appeal to the seafood-loving crowd (again, blurgh) to deep-friend hot dogs to appeal to the, well…I’m not quite sure who that appeals to other than Adam from Man v. Food. I opted for the traditional burger, and damn was it top-notch.

Overall, my Florida rendezvous with Caitlyn was a success. No signs of Disney and just enough beach to satiate my craving for sea and surf. Sarasota seems to be a great get-away for those seeking sun in Florida, but want to avoid fighting throngs of tourists. I can’t guarantee you’ll run into any hanging chads, but to have the true FL experience, be sure to have a pint of OJ (or sangria).

I'll Remember the Titans: Tennessee

2010-02-21T10:57:00.011-07:00

What do Elvis, barbeque, and Pringles have in common (besides an evident tastiness that can’t be denied)? They all hail from Tennessee.

I never thought I’d step foot on Titan soil—not due to lack of desire, but simply due to lack of opportunity. I mean really, who goes to Tennessee? As I came to find out, music-loving, barbeque-eating, Jack Daniels-downing young folks who are looking for a good time.

Desire met with opportunity when my friend Alicia’s brother Aaron moved out there to work for Proctor & Gamble. P&G does it all, from paper towels to dog food to the aforementioned Pringles. Chances are, if you’re eating a Pringle in North America, it was made in Jackson, Tennessee (thanks for the factoid, Aaron).

Landing in Memphis at 10 p.m. didn’t allow for much window-gazing, but I suspect it’d be on the greener side of things. The size of the airport rivals your typical gas station, so don’t expect to quench your Starbucks craving here. Once we hit the road for the journey to Jackson, the view didn’t improve much, but we’ll blame that on the darkness that time of night brings.

Jackson is a practical town on the verge of qualifying as a city (Wikipedia might call it a city, but I’m not quite willing since it’s a bit smaller than my hometown of Las Cruces). Similar to a Western US town, it’s spread out with a typical mall, cluster of restaurants, and pleasant residential areas.

The suburban architecture is charming and everything you’d want in a neighborhood. We were situated by a large park and wooded area, ideal for all the running, jumping, throwing, sword-fighting*, frisbeeing you could want. *yes, we witnessed mock sword-fights practically in the backyard. Awesome.

It took a Google search and a text to my historian brother to determine if Tennessee fought for the North or South during the Civil War (my US history teachers would not be impressed by my lack of memory on the subject). I was dismayed to learn it was indeed a Confederate state, confirming we were truly visiting the South. As if the humidity and accents didn’t give it away.

Take note that our trip took place during Thanksgiving, so there was a lot of down time spent drinking, eating, and lounging. Pretty much everything you want Thanksgiving to be. Props to Sam, Aaron’s girlfriend, for preparing a fantastic traditional meal. The turkey was brined to perfection at 5 a.m., the potatoes were mashed to the smoothest consistency imaginable, and the stuffing was stuffed to the stuffiest stuffing you could ever stuff.

If you ever find yourself in Jackson, Tennessee (hey, you never know) hit the Green Frog Coffee Company just off the main square and devour a scrumptious fried pie. Chilled or warmed up, you can’t go wrong with this empanada-style morsel that oozes fruity delight.

Ever wonder how the South does wine? Look no further than the Old Medina Winery, a rustic winery in the backwoods of Jackson. It doesn’t take the most refined palette to realize that it’s the Southern sweet tea version of wine—most samples taste like a Splenda-spiked rosé, but it was refreshing and unusual. Beyond the two shared bottles and free tasting, what really made the evening soar was the live music. Kick back on the enclosed porch and get blown away by some local blues.

Over in downtown Memphis, you’ll find the Gibson Guitar Museum and Memphis Grizzlies basketball stadium. There are tons of music shops lining the streets, so pop into one and take advantage of signed memorabilia in a state brimming with famous acts that have come and gone. And if you’re willing to drop $30+, visit the home of the most famous act to ever cross through Tennessee: Elvis Presley's Graceland.

There’s a great selection of food and fun in Memphis, including a place with a 7-lb. burger challenge even a gaggle of football players would have trouble finishing (Adam from Man v. Food lost that challenge, too). But we opted for another restaurant made famous by a food-themed TV show. You’ve heard of a heart-attack special before, but Dyer’s on Beale Street takes it to a whole new level. Featured on The Travel Channel’s Deep Fried Paradise, the world-famous Dyer’s is an unassuming burger joint with one major thing going for it—90-year-old oil.

Seriously.

Back in 1912, the cafe opened and the grease was strained daily and it's still used to this day. When the restaurant moved to historic Beale Street, an armored truck escorted the oil across town. Don’t believe me? Why read in suspicion when you can watch in awe. Good thing I didn’t see this clip before we went, otherwise the guilt would have ruined the taste:

Tennessee might boast legendary football and ribs, but the most outstanding thing borne from this area is the music. From Nashville to Memphis, the music scene is rich in history and talent. The strumming of an electric guitar is almost haunting as the sound echoes down Beale Street, and with an Elvis statue perched at the end of the road, it’s almost as if he’s watching over the budding talent on the streets. Based on what I heard, I think he’d approve.

Twitter: The Place to Be

2010-01-29T23:33:00.000-07:00

Follow Prepare for Landing on twitter! Get all the updates on travel news, blogs, and up to the minute details on my adventures. Follow @prepare4landing.

List It: The Best/Worst Places to Live Worldwide

2009-06-15T19:50:00.006-06:00

Today The Telegraph ran a photo feature online hailing and nailing some cities around the globe in a “best and worst cities to live in” ranking list.

Though best/worst cities lists tend to be the go-to countdown for publications, this particular survey has some gravitas as it was conducted by Mercer—no, not that kid who sat behind you in honors Geometry, but instead the world's largest human resource consulting firm. In other words, it’s legit.

At first glance, the gallery posted by The Telegraph resembled a Germanic tourist board advertisement, as Swiss and German cities dominate the rankings for the best side of things. Props to Vienna for snagging the number one spot.

Though I haven’t step foot on the soil of a good majority of the top ten, I’ve sampled a taste of these countries and I would whole-heartedly agree with the proposed rank, based on cost of living, variety, culture, and healthcare options. Besides a favorable climate, good food, and public transportation, the aforementioned are the top reasons to gravitate to any city.

Back to the list, you might be wondering: how did the US fare? Don’t get your hopes up, kids. The highest-ranking US entry is Honolulu at position 29. Canada kicked our ass with FIVE cities listed before our first (most Americans can’t even name five Canadian cities without a quick google search). After the States finally got a name-drop in the form of Honolulu, it was San Francisco (30), Boston (35), and Portland (42) that got the next highest rankings for American locales.

Oh, Canada! It’s impressive enough that our neighbor to the north got a number 4 shout-out for Vancouver, but also take note that their five largest cities all got ranked in the top 26. The first largest American city that gets mentioned is Chicago waaaay down the list at 44.

As for the worst of the worst? I’ll admit it—I had to Wiki some of the locations in the top ten worst cities list. This isn’t your typical ranking of places that just superficially seem bad, but are actually livable (i.e. anywhere in Texas). This top ten makes you want to cry, donate some money, then cry again. I’m talking about places like N'djamena (3), Bangui (2) and Nouakchott (8).

And the number one place not to live? Baghdad. Again. I usually forgo any political ramblings in this blog, but I can’t help but toss a few queries out there. Baghdad ranked 215 out 215, and I wonder what it ranked a decade ago, pre-invasion. And stepping further into the usually untouched realm of taking an obvious political stance, check it out: the inhabitants of all the best cities enjoy universal healthcare, whereas the worst tend to be run by capitalistic governments with a hands-off approach. Color me a socialist if that means supporting healthcare for all at reasonable prices.

Lists such as these pose quite the contradiction; on one hand, it makes me appreciate where I’m at, but on the other, it makes me want to escape the monotony of my current location and head to greener pastures—if not for semi-permanent relocation, then for temporary vacation purposes. Good thing I’m headed to London on Friday so I can kick this travel bug that’s been nipping at my heels for months now. And update my travel blog with a real travel story. Until then, friends.

Caff It Up: Starbucks Around the World

2009-04-22T23:43:00.007-06:00

The mission: a Grande cup of brewed coffee.

The location: The other side of the world.

The player: A caffeine-obsessed coffee junkie (aka Vic).

I’m always on the hunt for that morning cup of eye-opening coffee, perfected with two sugars and a cream. No matter what time zone I find myself roaming around in, a daily dose of caffeine is a must-have in order to function and to avoid the onset of a headache. Besides, how can I live up to my tourist potential without some java to get me rolling? It might be a travel faux-pas, but I have to admit…I love Starbucks when I’m traveling.

Don’t burn me at the anti-corporate stake yet, I try to hit up all the local cafes and sample the native brews at some point during the day too, but ideally, my first a.m. cup needs to be from a traditional drip coffee machine at the ‘bucks.

Europe has this inexplicable obsession with espresso that I can’t seem to grasp. Whether it be in Portugal where they stir it with a cinnamon stick, or in Hungary where it tends to come in a tall glass, strong shots of espresso are the go-to for caffeine fixes Eurowide. But for me, espresso doesn’t quite quench the desire—and it certainly doesn’t ease the pounding between my eyes (the true sign I’m addicted, I know).

For all those non-Starbucks Euro-baristas out there, take note: an Americano is not the same as a brewed coffee. Two shots of espresso mixed with hot water is not coffee, no matter how much you will it to be. I’ve searched Europe high and low for traditional cups of coffee, but they seem to be extinct—except at Starbucks.

Cue the hallelujah choir when I see that green symbol with the creepy mermaid—it brings me major joy in the a.m. while at home or abroad. With over 16,000 stores worldwide (11,000+ in the US alone), there’s bound to be some amazing locations. Considering my love for the chain of all chains, which Starbucks retail stores top my list of all-time favorite locations around the world? Check out the top 10!

#10. Vancouver, Canada

So our hotel location in Vancouver was altogether interesting—if you recall, it was on a block full of randomocities like hookers, dive bars, and delicious pancake houses. It was also home to a fantabulous Starbucks. And in a country where Tim Hortons rules all, I was pretty ecstatic to find the green symbol.

#9. Munich, Germany

Another shout out to Germany and another shout out to a train station location. The Munchen Hauptbahnhof is pimpadelique—I could spend hours there, especially with this little gem along the last track. My quest for brewed coffee was finally fulfilled after days of an aimless search and it tasted so good.

#8. New York City, USA

Times Square is the epicenter of American consumerism, glitz, glamour, and the location of my #8. The Starbucks there was packed out, with a line out the door. And it was around that very site my brother the Yankees fan got in a fight with a Mets fan (it didn’t come to physical blows, but there was definitely a verbal beat down, with pinstripe power unanimously named the victor!).

#7. Las Vegas, USA

Not one, but TWO Starbucks in The Golden Nugget. Sit outside and observe the passersby on Freemont Street, under the lightshow canopy. Day or night, it’s a treat and I can still picture my whole family sitting out there when we visited for my 21st birthday, as we enjoyed the coffee and the company alike.

#6. Santa Fe, USA

By far the most beautiful Starbucks on the list, this ‘bucks is built of adobe and truly blends in with local architecture. On the inside, you’ll find some local art to peruse—with ridiculous prices to scoff at—art and coffee, all in one! It almost seems like you’re visiting a historic site at this place.

#5. London, England

You might be wondering which London location I love the most, considering all the choices, but the answer may surprise you. My all-time favorite London spot is in Victoria station. It’s a great location when you need to kill some time before your train departs. The side door seems to always be broken, so enter from the front to avoid embarrassment as all the commuters tend to watch as you struggle with luggage (oh, just me then?).

#4. Dublin, Ireland

I hit this Starbucks every time I descend on Dublin and it has yet to disappoint. Located a few minutes from Trinity College, it’s an ideal spot to people watch or avoid the inevitable rain. Grab a plushy chair and sit back, relax, and enjoy the show. Though beware: even though the location of the store itself is grand, the bathroom location is on the sketch side of things, but just trust the narrow staircase will lead you where you need to go.

#3. Tucson, USA

Student-friendly vibe? Check. Beautiful patio setting? Check. Convenient location? Check. A few steps away from my old journalism department* at the University of Arizona, my favorite Tucson location is on University Boulevard. Tucked away amidst some leafy trees and near a bubbling fountain, you’ve got to check this spot out. The store itself is gorgeous, with wooden floors and an atmospheric interior. *now the UA School of Journalism!

#2. Oxford, England

Oxford already holds a special place in my heart, so it’s no wonder the resident Starbucks would rank high in my list of hot spots for hot coffee. Located on the always bustling High Street, there’s typically a line out the door, with customers willing to brave the English drizzle to get their cuppa. The size of this store is deceiving—there’s a small front space that expands into a large downstairs quadrant and an even larger upstairs seating area. The top tier of this site has large windows overlooking the main street, perfect for people watching from those overstuffed chairs everyone always vies for. Most visitors I entertained while in the Ox were forced into a Starbucks run to this location (though some were more willing than others, i.e. Mark, Sarah, my dad). So shake off that umbrella and cozy up inside this #2 spot—tell ‘em Vic sent ya (don’t really, they have no idea who I am).

#1. Nuremberg, Germany

Prepare to be dazzled by my hyperbole. From the idyllic location to the superior service to the bold blend they had brewing the first morning I wandered in, this Starbucks is truly magical. The small door almost goes unnoticed along the hectic Hauptmarkt, but keep an eye out when you start approaching the bridge. The small storefront is misleading—turn the corner and be amazed; natives and tourists intricately weave in the cavernous sitting area. Calming Starbucks-style music plays and there’s a constant hum of conversation throughout the store. Venture out the floor-to-ceiling glass windows and sit on the patio along the river. With church bells heard in the distance and a steady flow of foot traffic crossing the bridge, you’ll be tempted to stay at the ‘bucks all day and ignore the rest of your historical surroundings. Then again, there’s always the next morning when the daily coffee custom rears its head yet again.

There it is, my top ten Starbucks spots around the world. But of course, I have yet to visit all 16,000+ locations so the list isn't entirely fair. I guess I have some traveling to do....

Going Global: My Favorite Shots of My Favorite Spots

2009-03-11T22:09:00.002-06:00

Check out the slideshow of photos from around the world! I'm not an amazing photographer, but I have been in the presence of amazing landscape. Any locations you see in the slideshow are also featured in previous posts, so dig around in the archives!

Yee-haw: Austin, Y'all!

2009-02-24T19:20:00.013-07:00

Don't let Austin's adopted motto scare you, it's really not that "weird" there. Sure, it's the most liberal town in Texas, so that adds a couple points to the weird meter. And yeah, 6^th Street brings out every type of person you could imagine from college kids to middle aged hipsters, so give some points there. And ok, so their mascot is some bizarro alien-frog hybrid that an unstable rock-n-roller spray painted on a wall, but… nevermind, scratch the initial statement. Austin is flat-out weird.

It's also lovable, trendy, and best of all, nothing like the rest of Texas. It's streaming with music, teeming with bars, and crawling with interesting people.

Ever since I got into UT-Austin for graduate school and politely declined their offer, I've craved a trip to the city to see what I missed. I in no way regret attending school in Oxford, but I needed to cure my curiosity of Austin. Cut to my 23^rd birthday and a need for a travel adventure. The players: Mark, Alicia and Sarah. The destination: Austin, TX, baby. Yee-haw!

We booked through Expedia.com and snagged a flight, rental car, and hotel within walking distance of 6^th Street—all for under $350 each. Our economy car ended up being pretty familiar, as it was a Mazda 3. Hotel options abound in downtown Austin, all at reasonable prices, particularly in the midst of January. Radisson ended up being our temporary residence of choice for the weekend, with a double room on the 7^th floor. Good views and even better Sleepnumber beds, I’d probably rock it again and recommend it for the economical traveler.

We arrived in Austin at PPT (Proper Party Time) and after a brief check-in at the hotel, we wandered three blocks up to 6^th Street. This legendary street had a lot riding on it—my expectations were high and I was really banking on it living up to all the hype. Within a few minutes of strolling down the street I knew it would be soon become one of my favorite hotspots for bar-hopping.

Be prepared to make swift decisions because there's a different bar at every angle. We landed at Shakespeare's Pub for the simple reasons that it didn’t have a cover charge, velvet rope at the entrance, or bass-bumping dance jams. Head upstairs to the patio bar and find out the evening's special. Friday was crown & coke night, so we all cheered to that, multiple times.

We met up with Mark's old college buddy, Robert, who he knew from his freshman year of college at Southwestern University (more info on that later). The next few hours we clung to our coveted position at the bustling bar and went through several rounds. Last call signaled it was time to eat and so along with every other boozer out that night, we flowed into the street and bought pizza at Roppolo's. The road is closed off to pedestrians only and it’s a good thing too, considering it filled with hundreds of bar-hoppers with mixed levels of intoxication. A quick walk back to the Radisson with a detour for a few cartwheels reminded me why we invested in a close hotel.

On day two of the Austin adventure, we first had to seek out various hangover remedies, whether it be coffee, bagels, Advil, or just time. Once that was taken of, we ventured out to Georgetown, Texas, home of Southwestern University—Mark’s old stomping grounds. It’s a gorgeous campus, especially if you like limestone. With a student population of only 1,200, it didn’t take long to tour the premises. Mark regaled us with some glory day flashback stories from 1997 and we got a good feel for the campus.

A trip to Austin is pointless without some barbeque. A 45-minute drive south of the city will land you in the middle of no where, but right next door to the middle of no where is Salt Lick—a legendary BBQ joint that's a favorite of Ashley Judd and Matthew McConaughey. If the 45-minute drive wasn't long enough for you, the hour-long wait for a table will certainly bring you closer to your travel companions. Once inside the BBQ shack, there's an alluring mix of meat and smoke and all the fixings for a down-home family style meal. A plate of meat runs for $14 and the all-you-can-eat option will add $20 to your debt and a few pounds to the scale. Make sure to save room for the blackberry cobbler, a must-have treat after all that meat. Though the food was everything we hoped for, I've got to admit, the drive/wait aren't entirely worth it (unless you know for sure Matthew or Ashley will be there). Rudy's isn't just as good as Salt Lick—it's better, and available nationwide.

Saturday night in Austin is just as exciting as Friday night, unless you're still a bit fragile from the night prior. We headed back out to 6^th Street and bar #1 was Maggie Mae’s, a massive tavern with terrible rap-crap upstairs and incredible live music downstairs. Local band Black Tooth played some classic rock mixed in with some soon to be classic rock, like Sublime and The Raconteurs. Reasonably priced drinks and a chill vibe should get you in the door and the music will keep you sticking around. However, come 11 p.m., an influx of annoying people invaded our zone and wrecked our zen, so we explored some other bar options up the street.

Bar #2 enticed us with zero cover charge and an attractive doorman. Friends Bar ended up being the perfect balance of bar and club, so if you're traveling with friends who want to dance, this is the place to be. Luckily, none of my friends do that, so we just bopped our heads along to the beats and chilled with a beer.

The last stop of the evening was a good one—friendly staff, cheap drinks, and a huge selection of food: the H.E.B. grocery store. I highly recommend this Texas institution for a last pit-stop to stock up on some midnight munchies.

Sunday morning we only had to go as far as seven floors to get our daily jolt of caffeine, as the Starbucks is in the hotel lobby (gotta love it). We ventured out to a classic Austin spot for buying tunes and checked out Waterloo Records. We perused the aisles of music and movies for about an hour, but then had to give in to our emerging hunger.

Cue Juan in a Million. This slightly overrated hole-in-the-wall is packed with locals. Don't let the sketchy neighborhood and line out the door detour you, it's not that bad and the wait is only 20 minutes. The main building connects to a covered patio and another house, so there’s plenty of room for hungry, hungover Austinites. We sat at a not so chic, but oh so shabby picnic table and had service that bordered on terrible. The food was fairly lackluster, but under $10, including tip. If there's ever a next time, we'll all be getting the legendary Juan in a Million plate that is spilling over with cheesy eggs, for $3.50 (of course, we only discovered this dish after we placed our orders). I know this place doesn’t sound spectacular, but it’s a local favorite and worth a stop, if only to get a taste for the area, not necessarily the Mexican food. They give Tex-Mex a whole new meaning.

Before we ambled toward the airport for our afternoon flight, we had to swing by the home of the Longhorns. Surrounded by the typical university shops (i.e. Urban Outfitters, Pita Pit, Starbucks), UT-Austin is a large campus with an impressive setting. The campus feel is like any big-ten American university, but here the students bleed orange.

Austin definitely lived up to all expectations, which is a good and bad thing for a travel adventure. I wasn't pleasantly surprised, nor was I unexpectedly disgusted, so overall, I'd say Austin hit the mark. With great food and spectacular entertainment, this accessible city is a standout in the Lone Star State. And so if Texas ever decides to secede, I'll allow it…as long as we get Austin.

2009-02-11T22:16:00.003-07:00

How cool was Austin, TX? Check back next week to find out!

High Five for Highland Games: Inverness

2008-11-16T17:35:00.016-07:00

Since my tan from Portugal has all but faded away into oblivion, I thought it time to talk up a greyer part of the world. With some bagpipes heard blowing in the distance and the taste of whiskey on your tongue, let’s journey to Scotland again.

This time round, I headed further north to Inverness with reliable travel buddies Miriam and Lauren. What you need to know about Lauren, a fellow Oxford postgrad, is that she loves Scottish men. I’m not sure if it’s the accents, the kilts, or the fact they usually come built big and burly… but she loves them. So what better than the Highland Games to watch some brawny men throw cabers and lift weights?

We rolled out of Oxford at midnight on a Friday (nope, not a misprint).Our flights through EasyJet cost about £75 roundtrip, so of course we were paying in other ways… early flights out of remote airports. A taxi to Oxford city centre then a short walk landed us at the bus station, where we were informed tickets needed to be pre-purchased for the coach to Luton Airport. Super.

So we hopped on the Oxford Tube, which runs 24-7 to London, then once at Victoria station we wandered around at 3 a.m. trying to find the Luton bus. In the end, we got to the airport in time for a brief breakfast, a long line at security, and not quite enough coffee to keep us going.

By 8:30 a.m. we arrived in Inverness. A bus to the city centre will cost you under 5 quid and once you’re there, transportation costs are pretty much non-existent since this city verges on miniscule. Trusty hostelworld.com led us to the Inverness Tourist Hostel, which wasn’t the best, but certainly wasn’t the worst (though I should mention the incredibly cute and helpful Kiwi behind the front desk). A mixed room of four with shared bathroom runs for about £12.00.

Here’s a tip about Scottish weather: never expect it to be nice; seriously, just plan for the absolute worst and then multiple it by ten. It was the middle of July and the only footwear I brilliantly decided to pack were of the flip-flop variety. Live and learn (but you would have thought I’d done that by now?!). I would guesstimate temperatures were in the low 50’s with a slight drizzle most Scots would consider a grand fine day.

A long nap and several cups of coffee later, we were ready to rock the ‘ness and see the sights. Ten minutes later we were stumped for what to do next. If you had a car at your disposal, chances are there’d be more to see (Loch Ness, for instance). Surely, there must be more to see? As Europe’s fastest growing city, I’m sure there’s more than meets the tourist’s eye. Nevertheless, we had a sufficient wander and then thought it time for food and drinks. I’ve got one word for you when it comes to Inverness nightlife: Hootananny.

Live music, reasonably priced booze, a Thai restaurant and several levels of randomocity will keep you entertained on a Friday or Saturday night. And no trip to a pub is complete without the resident drunks hitting on Americans tourists. There were a few older gents this time, each with a glass of whiskey or a pint of Guinness sloshing around as they made jokes, asked us to dance, and made generally unpleasant conversation. But it’s all part of the "culture" yeah? We even witnessed a genuine dance off, but as in all cases of dance offs, no one was victorious (see video below).

Come Saturday, it was the main event for a about £10 with a student ID. Think of a fun fair, add some kilts and bagpipes, and you’ve got yourself the Highland Games. There’s a beer tent, alongside which are booths with each individual clan. Of course, mine was the best, the Cameron clan… Aonaibh Ri Chéile! (Let Us Unite!). We settled in at the grand stands and watched some caber tossing, cowbell flipping, shot putting, and hammer throwing. There was a men’s team and a women’s team, each exemplifying impressive skills and strength.

A walk along the River Ness will take you by the perched Inverness Castle. There are plenty of traditional Scottish souvenir shops scattered throughout the city. Find yourself a tartan, or shortbread, or just a regular shot glass adorning "Scotland" ... whatever you fancy, you'll be sure to find it in this tourist-friendly city.

We capped the night off at our new local favorite, Hootananny, but didn’t make it a wild night since we had to catch a morning taxi to the airport. Another early flight to another remote airport, but at least this time we managed to get on the right bus back to Oxford.

It almost seemed surreal to have been in the north of Scotland for less than 48 hours, watching the legendary Highland Games. A last-minute weekend getaway turned out to be something really memorable for me, as we saw a piece of history in action.