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Nice place to visit…

28 Jun

Nice place to visit…

The thing about Southern California is that even if you’ve never been there, you’ve been there. You’ve seen Los Angeles in movies and you’ve felt it, too, because LA culture seeps into American culture deeply and quickly. Visiting becomes a strange exercise in discovering things you don’t think you know, only to realize that the sights were already imprinted in your mind.

Every time I’m there, it’s hard not to feel like an anthropologist — and better yet, the city welcomes curious eyes. New York wants you to be blasé, shrugging at much of its marvels as though it’s no big thing. Los Angeles shouts until you look, and then it demands you to look some more. So without further ado, a completely unfair list of odd things about LA. (more…)

Excuses galore

16 Jun

Excuses galore

After dinner in Florence, I decided it would be safest to walk home along the river. (Safe route-imagining is one of those things that male travelers might not think about as much as female travelers do, I imagine.) The night was almost warm, and it was around 11pm. I’d had just enough vino bianco (one glass) to feel like Florensh was jush greaaaaat, but not enough to stop me from eyeing every street before turning on to it.

Halfway between Ponte Amerigo Vespucci and Ponte I Never Remembered Its Name, I saw a man about 20 feet in front of me. Here is where I always feel a little bit bad when dealing with strange men on the street. My first thought is defense: What might he want, and if I need to run/kick/hit, where will I go and how will I get scrappy? It always seems unfair, because streets are filled with many non-creepy men. But I have to look at them as possible creeps. Initially, at least. But let us return to our friend. (more…)

A broad eats abroad

7 Jun

A broad eats abroad

Food in Italy can be divided into two categories: gelato and everything else. The city is a sweet-fiend’s dream, supported by ice cream shops on seemingly every other corner. Gelateria is Italian for “magical land of smooth ice cream that somehow tastes better than anything back home,” and I considered it my duty to visit as many as possible. Gelato for breakfast? Si. A pre-lunch treat? Of course. My record was four cones in one day, which sounds piggish until you realize that I always order the smallest size. That’s reasonable. The best gelato was at Grom in Florence. I imagined it was made by young surfer boys. (more…)

Bonjour Paris (in the style of Funny Face)

3 Jun

Bonjour Paris (in the style of <I>Funny Face</i>)

Been a while. I went on vacation. More precisely, I went on a work trip and went on vacation afterward. If you’re going to take a 10-hour flight to Europe, you might as well maximize your time there.

Work took me to Paris, which is the sort of fantastic phrase I never thought I’d get to say. It remains my favorite city, and that’s probably why I’ve visited relatively few other parts of Europe. Faced with a choice between, say, Amsterdam and Paris, I choose Paris every time. Even its relatively young Haussmanian buildings look “old” to these eyes, and the parts of the city that are old are inspiring. But Paris always feels vibrant and fresh, contemporary without trying to prove itself. Paris never needs to prove itself. It’s like a beautiful woman who doesn’t wear makeup, because what’s the point? Everyone already knows she’s gorgeous. (It should be noted that French women wear relatively little makeup.)

And then I went to Italy. I have always wanted to go there, mostly to stuff my face with tomato-drenched carbohydrates. But I chose it for personal, symbolic reasons as well. Lots of stories to begin tomorrow.

Pickup on Sixth Street

2 May

Pickup on Sixth Street

Last week, I spent a little under 48 hours in Cincinnati. It reminded me of a Kalamazoo-Chicago mashup, a smaller big city with brick buildings built by German immigrants. The Cince (let’s make that happen, OK?) felt more Midwestern than Southern, but maybe my eyes were just picking up on what was familiar.

At night, I explored the area around my hotel. The streets were pretty dead, and nearly empty sidewalks make me nervous even at 10pm. A raucous, young, overwhelmingly white crowd filled a corner bar/grill place called the Cadillac Ranch. A enthusiastically cheesy and very loud cover band played a cavalcade of bad songs: Bryan Adams, Journey, Naked Eyes, and yes, Jimmy Eat World. Around 2am, I would hate that band for keeping me awake in my hotel room a block away. But at the moment, I just smiled at how much they were into “Summer of ’69.”
(more…)

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