Poland: Wrocław & Kraków, an intro to the mysteries of the East(ern Europe)

Wroclaw is a lovely city for strolling and relaxing, combining old world charm with convenient intercity transport links

Polish Homecoming

Arriving in Poland for me was surprisingly emotional. For the past few years, I have been researching that half of my family tree and turning up only minimal results. I’ve learned quite a bit about what my Polish ancestors did after they came to the United States, but I still only have theories about which town they’re even from in Poland.

So, in part, this trip was a cathartic experience because it allowed me to rediscover my roots, even if they’re only notional and generic roots. However, when I got off the plane in Wrocław on a mild summer morning, it did feel a little like coming home. Poland, in many ways, resembles Missouri. It’s a beautiful landscape – mostly gently rolling hills, largely populated with deciduous forests and farmland, and the people aren’t all that different (in that they’re pretty much all white and the government is pretty racist).

Poland is undergoing a slight patriotic renaissance — I’m all for a strong cultural identity, but it isn’t all good with the PiS

Poland is having a tough time, governmentally speaking (and we all know they’re not the only ones). Their Law and Justice Party have attempted to abolish the independence of their judiciary, and the country has now been formally sanctioned as a result. We saw several protests in the town square in Wrocław.

However, we largely avoided politics. So, our first order of business in Wrocław was to find our accommodation, an Airbnb for us of course. The town is very well connected by trams (as it turns out most of Eastern Europe is). They are adorable little streetcars that people actually use to get around. However, we couldn’t figure out how in the hell to pay for the damn things, so we called an Uber. It was easier, because we had Sophie’s red monster bag (25kg!! — I know because I carried it up every staircase east of Berlin…).

Coffee, where are you?

We needed more coffee because all we had had was a gigantic (and not very good) Pret coffee before leaving London just a few hours before. So we decided to go walk in the park on the vague notion from our host that “there is coffee that way”. The park was beautiful — and it brings me to a sad, but true admission about my preconceptions about Eastern Europe.

Sophie is smiling now — but you should have seen her before she had coffee…

I had this strange, and very misguided, concept that Eastern Europe would be some kind of developing world hellscape. I have no idea where that came from — but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Throughout our trip, I was struck by how backwards that concept was, and in fact, how much more advanced of a society Eastern Europe is than the United States. It’s frankly embarrassing — I’ll say it. And I’ll give you three reasons.

1. It’s safe. All the countries we visited — save a few sketchy experiences — felt and are, according to statistics, WAAAAAAY safer than the United States. People don’t own guns in Europe, if they do want to kill one another, they are civilized about it and use a knife or blunt instrument. In the past, they relied on the commissariat to do it systematically.
2. Public transportation is the mark of a decent society. For example, the trams — they’re cute and they get you places on time. All of the cities we traveled in have these little cars to zip you to your destination. But there were also an extensive network of buses, minibuses, trains, subways, and easy hire bikes.
3. They’re clean. Apart from Budapest, which was downright disgusting, these cities aren’t trashed like so many “developed” world cities. True, they have a slightly different concept of what ‘tidy’ is, some of the post-Soviet buildings are a bit beat up — but I dig it.

Trams will zip you around to whatever part of the city you want to see — transport in Eastern Europe is impressively extensive and cheap.

Now, what the hell is there to do in Wrocław? Here’s 10 things we did, and mostly enjoyed…

1) Hunt gnomes: There are some 200+ of these little guys scattered throughout the city, it makes for a fun diversion to keep your eyes peeled for them. It’s worth a read about how they came into existence, check out their wikipedia to learn about their anti-communist, pro-labor roots.

2) Sample Polish fare & beers, in fact, it was pretty difficult to find non-Polish food, unlike so many other cities. I’m not going to say Polish food is the best food in the world, but it’s very comforting.  The beer isn’t as good, but you’d better get used to it because no one will give you water — much like the rest of Europe.

3) Craft coffee/craft cocktails — surprisingly, yes. Go to Lot Kury for a steaming teapot of gin.

4) Dodge Chinese tourists’ selfie stick as they whip em’ around

5) Explore the charming old town square

Generally speaking, the old town is very cute and full of sprawling cobblestone squares. Wroclaw survived the Soviet and Nazi occupation with a surprising amount of its charm intact.

6) Go to a milk bar, in fact I insist, comrade.  You can get your daily allotment of food (a couple dishes and a drink) for about $5. It’s also the experience, families, groups of teenagers, and old grumpy couples shoveling Polish food down their throats at high speed and chasing it with beet juice or whatever sweet purple stuff came in those cups…

7) Check out some weird sculptures — and there are many all across the place, some much darker-themed than others.

This one is happier… I think

I don’t even want to know what sad genocide this commemorates

8) See the Jewish quarter (or what’s left of it) and a couple nearby cathedrals that weren’t destroyed.

One of the better preserved churches in Poland which survived allied bombing, Soviet occupation, and the scourge of modern development

9) Rent a city bike and zoom around the tiny parks dotted throughout the city.

10) Eat a donut.  Seriously, they’re so good.

To be honest, this list is embarrassingly simple, but what we liked best about Wrocław is that we felt like locals within a day. It’s a small, ‘chill’ city where the woman at the smoked fish counter knows your name and is already tired of your stupid order that you can’t pronounce. As a recently named European City of Culture, it truly is worth a visit. Onwards!

Kraków

Kraków isn’t as charming as Wrocław, there’s no way around that because it’s saturated with the kind of tourists that will irritate. American and Chinese tourists are in competition to see who can drip sweat on things first and they putter around incessantly with selfie sticks and leave puddles of garlic butter in their wake.

A quick glance at the town centre of Kraków should be enough, it’s a tourist trap

Despite that, it’s still a pretty interesting city with one of the largest, most walkable old towns in Europe. It’s also much bigger, and that goes with the name recognition, of course. One of the best features of the city is the green ring around the center. You can walk in a full circle starting at the castle, all around center city, without having to leave the shade. Of course, also with a bigger city comes the problem of more bums. However, it’s difficult to tell the bums from the drunk tourists and stag partying Brits (is there actually a difference?), and you’re much less likely to be hassled by the bums.

Kraków is a lovely city to walk around, more than just exploring the extensive old town, a few things worth doing include:

1. A vodka bar — It’s not what you think! These are little arcade style places that have a variety of flavored, lesser proof vodkas such as coffee, hazelnut, cherry, and apricot, among hundreds of other flavors.
   

   The brightly colored array of options at a Kraków vodka bar

2. Castle — The ‘castle’ and the dragon’s den are very fun. There is a legend that a dragon lives beneath the castle in a cave and so, naturally, there is a fire-breathing statue to appease the tourists (who are the reason the dragon is extinct). The castle isn’t as much a castle as a conglomeration of stones and several walled cathedrals, however the promontory gives you a good view of the parts of Kraków you’ll never visit (because they’re outside the center where the plebeians live).
   

   The gate to the castle

3. Food – there is some great traditional and not traditional food in Kraków. We can totally recommend a place called Chata, which has that ridiculously over-the-top peasant-style building with sheep skin rugs on top of wooden benches — it’s cozy and will charm you, and if not, you suck and need to relax. But the food is authentic and pleasantly heavy. Super inexpensive too!

Salt of the Earth: And we call it a mine. A mine!

I am slightly ashamed to say this was not only possibly the coolest thing on this trip, but potentially one of the coolest excursions I’ve ever been on (Yes, yes Sophie was right). Why is a a salt mine cool, you ask? I have no idea, except that to venture deep below the earth into a place that directly inspired Tolkien’s Moria and is the quietest place you’ve ever been is just thrilling.

See the resemblance to Tolkien’s dwarf kingdoms?

Even the legends of Dwarves inhabiting these mines doesn’t seem to far-fetched once you enter this strange underground realm. In that mysterious world, deep beneath the ground (disturbingly so), the salt air has preserved the same timbers that were used to construct the original mine some 1200 years ago. People have been mining salt from this deposit since neolithic times and you get that creepy, but incredibly ancient feeling when you wander through the maze-like corridors of this place. Among the seemingly endless, labyrinthine expanse are thousands and thousands of sculptures that the miners made over the years in their spare time, celebrating Poland, Catholicism, and folklore.

A depiction of the origin story of the mine, this dude gave a princess some salt, and she was like “WTF?”

Unlike what we believe, our guide, who was an enthusiastic gentleman, dissuaded us from our dubious belief that the miner’s life was one of a serf. In fact, miners in the heyday of the mine were well-paid and unionized. They were paid partially in salt (which in those times was far, far more valuable than gold).

You can only access the mine through a guided tour (you do NOT want to get lost down there!) and the ticketing system is a bit rigid. Though we generally hate structured tours, we opted for a full “pick-up and drop-off” tour from Kraków rather than attempt to travel to the mines ourselves and I think this was the right choice. The mines are amazing, but disorienting and I wouldn’t have wanted to navigate a train system to get back to the city afterwards.

Kazimierz

Kazimierz is the Jewish quarter of Kraków, and this is another bit of the city well worth the trip. It’s the site of a food renaissance with a pleasing mix of traditional Polish-Jewish food as well as hip Israeli restaurants dotted throughout vibrant neighborhood. There’s a fair bit of historical stuff about the ghetto as well, including some store fronts which have been restored to before they were destroyed and boarded up.

Not much to say about it other than go ramble around it for an afternoon, definitely worth the time.

Revel in the rebirth of Jewish culture in Poland in Kraków’s Jewish quarter, there is some excellent, hipstery Israeli food

Some dilapidated areas near the Jewish quarter

Get outside the city

It’s worth renting a bike just to enjoy the extensive network of bike paths that spiders out from Kraków. I spent a day trying to get to the old forest outside the city, but finding a wealth of interesting sites along the way prevented me from reaching my destination, including: apples growing everywhere, an old nazi bunker that was cordoned off, a random dinosaur museum, a beautiful but inaccessible monastery, and a mysterious crematorium that was closed for business. In fact, when I found the bunker, I also found a wonderful apple tree and got to eat a couple of perfect apples while I pondered how to get to the forest. Unfortunately, I never could figure out how to enter the forest, but it was a lovely bike ride.

A well-maintained park a short walk from the center city full of statues…

You gotta love Poland, it’s just the right amount of weird just before it gets scary. The people aren’t what I would call friendly per se, but they’re interesting and they’ve definitely got a great, dark sense of humor that’s like, “What other bad shit could possibly happen that’s worse than what already happened?” It’s not quite funny, but in this lovely country life goes on, and the Polish economy is humming. I’m sure there’s never been a better time to explore this gem of a country.

Looking back at the city, you can get an awfully long way on the network of bike paths that connect the city to the countryside

-Brian

It’s time to go to Riga

https://www.instagram.com/p/BmySZhInKVW/?hl=en&taken-by=we_quit_our_jobs_to_travel

I really can’t say enough what a great city Riga is.  It’s been touted as an upcoming tourist hot spot in Europe — and it’s easy to see why.

A view of the market and central train station from the top of the Soviet-era skyscraper

The largest city in the Baltic states, Riga still has a very small city feel. It’s walkable, but also very accessible by tram, train, bus, and mini-bus.  The city is so hip that in many ways it feels less like Eastern Europe and more like a Western/Central European city, like a Berlin or Prague. However, it is much cleaner than both and smells much less like piss. Also, sorry Berlin, but the beers are better. But, before you can have a beer — you must get to the city.

The city is chocked full of architecture, and one only needs look up to see the different eras

 

Arriving — made simple

One of the best parts of my experience in Riga was the ease of arriving from the airport.  Just grab a bus waiting literally outside the terminal, and head off on your way to the center of the city. On the way you’ll head past the incredible mix of architecture that made Riga worthy of a UNESCO designation. Apart from the old town with its surprisingly intact ancient buildings, there are a number of churches, sprawling parks, towering sleek and modern (but relatively small) sky scrapers, the soaring monuments to a proudly independent Latvia, and of course the dominating stalwarts of Soviet occupation.

The House of the Blackheads in the heart of the UNESCO heritage old town

Micro-brews and weird country beers

In Riga, there are a number of unique experiences for the hop-lover in you.  I would highly recommend stopping in Alus Haus.  The selection of Latvian beers is extensive, and the bartenders are friendly enough to make suggestions, and offer tips about travel in and around Riga.

“You must go to Jurmala.” Insisted the bartender, it’s beautiful.

“What is it?” I asked.

“It’s like a pine forest, but on the beach. Forest, beach, cabins…. Beautiful.”

Another recommendation he gave me was to head to the brewery at Labietis. That one I immediately decided to pursue. The brewery itself was hard to find, but so very worth the search — anyway, it’s the journey that makes the destination worth the beer awaiting you.

Good beer with a cool Babylonian-looking dude’s head as the logo — no explanation here

The brewery was situated in a confusing old factory, which had been converted into a vegan/asian food mall. It took me a minute to find the entrance, down what seemed like an old abandoned street filled with dilapidated industrial buildings. But, when I stepped in and asked, “Is this the brewery?” a stocky man in an apron smiled widely and said, “You found it.”

The place smelled like cereal, the hops and grains being cooked as I sampled the beer. Behind the glass I could see bespectacled and uniformed hipsters stirring their hops with care.

I tried a few of the beers offered that day (they switch them out regularly); the Latvian take on an APA, their forest beer, and their more standard lager.  The beers were great, each one I had was distinct, really professionally finished, and crafted with care.

The brewery was a bit tough to locate in an old factory, behind some broken down machinery — this added to the atmosphere

Jurmala

The beach town of Jurmala is actually a collection of little towns that have, over time, been joined together by the sprawl of newly-constructed beach houses.  The place has that distinct feel of a beach town, with ice cream stands overflowing onto the street, and overpriced but badly-made coffee being sold on every corner. Accessing the beach is surprisingly easy. Just get off the train at one of five or so stops along the coast and head right down to the water. The beach itself stretches from the national park Kemeru at one end, to the regional park Ragakapa at the other end (which is basically an unincorporated bit of trees). I walked from the Jurmala stop to Bulduri along the beach, before deciding to get a minibus the rest of the way to Ragakapa. If I would have had more time, I think it would have been nice to walk the whole way along the beach. It was lovely.

Ragakapa, a fairly large bit of unadultered forest that the locals use as a thoroughfare between their bungalows and their yachts

The beach on a fair day, but the water was bitterly cold and full of dismembered communist party members

The beach stretches a LONG way… I walked about 7k along, but you can walk from Ragakapa to the national park

Latvian Jersey Shore??

Ragakapa was definitely worth a walk through, and I regret not getting down to Kemerū which is supposed to be awesome. There’s just going to have to be a next time.

Places to eat

There were a couple places I really recommend visiting, for either the atmosphere or the offering.  Of course, Riga impressed me greatly with the breadth of food and drink offered.

The freedom monument, part of the time there were a contingent of dudes with assault rifles guarding it (there’s a bit of tension with a dictator nearby whose name starts with a P and ends with shithead)

To be fair, I found one great place from another blog  that was a list of Soviet places to visit.  Honestly, there were no Soviet vibes in the place, so that was confusing – maybe they’ve remodeled.  On the other hand, the food was seriously worth the trip, and it was so centrally-located that it made it easy to get to Bufete Gauja. I had the traditional Latvian potato pancakes with salad and radishes.  They were basically unforgettable.  Their house beer was slightly more forgettable.  In hindsight, I wish I would have had the daily offering, which everyone was eating — but I was too stupid to say, “I’ll have what he’s having”. That’s the biggest lesson I’ve learned in Eastern Europe. Have the daily offering, it’s usually like €3 and a mountain of food — and if the locals are eating it, you’re probably much better off.

By my final day in Riga, I learned this lesson again, I as I searched high and low (seriously like four hours) around old town until I found a place where none of the menus or signs were in English.  Then, I walked in and pointed to the sign that said something in Latvian about the daily offering. It turned out to be a good choice, I got an excellent, hearty soup and a thick piece of chicken breaded in a weird but wonderful spice mix, and a beetroot salad for‎ €3.50.

Another excellent place that I was lucky enough to be close to was a charming little vegan cafe called Sweet Therapy.  They asked me “What kind of milk do you want?” with my latté (my go-to coffee in Europe since otherwise you get a tiny tiny sip of espresso when you ask for a coffee). “Um… cow… I said…”

The girl shook her head, “We’re vegan.”

“Good for you.” I said, “How about… soy?”

“What are you doing in Riga?” She asked, “Work?” I laughed.

“Guess I’m just looking.” I said, “It’s lovely. A beautiful city.”

She shrugged, “It’s fine.”

This was a common question, “What the hell are you doing here?” Emphasis on here. As in, why would you come to Riga? Well, now I know.

The one other food item that was honestly a “must” was sprotes.  Especially Riga Gold sprotes.  I ate three or four cans of these heavenly little smoked fish.  They are like sardines meets smoked salmon.  I already miss them.

Oh sprotes! How I have missed your smoky, fishy goodness…

Sightseeing

There are actually a lot of sights to take in in Riga.  Of course, there is the Academy of Arts and Sciences, the Soviet-era tower that is the most imposing piece of architecture in the city.  It’s about €5 to go up, but really, the view (and the experience of taking the old clunky elevator up) was worth it.  From there you can see the gigantic, other-wordly Soviet radio tower.  It’s the tallest building in the Baltic states (according to the outdated plaque on top of the building), but it is amazing.  It’s like the Seattle Space Needle, but functional and way more intriguing.

So cool… The radio tower is the single coolest structure I’ve ever seen. It adds a layer of intrigue that it is built to outlast earthquakes, nuclear blasts, and tsunamis, etc.

Of course, you’ll want to spend some time wandering around the old town.  There are numerous old buildings like the House of the Blackheads and the imposing churches.  Note the roosters atop the churches, in place of crosses, the Lutherans in the Baltic states, and purportedly elsewhere, stick chickens on top of their churches.  IDFK why, but it’s weird — and amusing.  There are also a collection of parks throughout the city that are nicely-maintained and worth a stroll.

Orthodox, Lutheran, Catholic, take your pick! #Churchesfordays

Off the beaten path

One of the weirder experiences was when I started walking in the direction of an old tower I saw from the top of the Arts and Sciences building.  I was intrigued by this ancient-looking tower, a pair of them actually, that were stuck right in the middle of a grove of trees.  So, I had to go and check them out.  My journey took me through a somewhat sketchy bit of town where there were more abandoned buildings than occupied ones, but it was quiet and eventually I found the tower.  It was a bit anti-climactic, but it was an interesting adventure.  Again, it’s the journey that makes the destination worth while.

A random street I found on the way to the random tower

The largest church, which I conveniently forgot the name of and I didn’t pay 10 euros to climb up

A dementor wanders the streets

I just love this ancient jank car picture

The parks in Riga are not to be underestimated — they’re gorgeous and well-kept, and there are minimal crazy people living in them

A Soviet era graveyard I stumbled through after too many samples at Labeitis

Old town 1

Old town 2

I asked the bartender at the Bier Haus what the towers were.

“Those towers… yes, we have them.  I have no idea what they are.  They’re just here.”

One of a series of inexplicable towers scattered throughout Riga… Apparently they form a void in the collective memory of the city

There’s a lot about Riga that was inexplicable, but I have to say that added to its charm.  The country has been occupied for much of its modern history, but has managed to eek out a cultural identity of its own which is really cementing itself now.  I think Riga deserves recognition as one of the most interesting cities in Europe, and I’m sure before long it will get that recognition.  Hopefully, that won’t destroy the character that I found so charming, amusing, and generally fascinating.

 

-Brian

 

Sikkim and Darjeeling: A former Buddhist kingdom and a tea-soaked adventure

 

Little villages are scattered along the steep road to Darjeeling

 

Getting there

Flying into Bagdogra is an experience in itself. This remote airport in the northeast of India is strictly a ‘no photographs’ location. Only around 100 miles from the Chinese border, the Indian air force keeps a stash of bombers there, ready to go, in case their Chinese neighbors get handsy at the border. There are plenty of serious looking mustachioed dudes with submachine guns standing around nervously.

Deplaning though, you would almost think you’re in a cafeteria — the 80s paneling, the rows of oddly arranged chairs, and then armed guards asking for your visa (you need special permission to enter most areas around there). You get a quick rundown with a metal detector, which is unusual when leaving an airport… But then again, many people arriving are traveling to Sikkim, which was not too recently its own country, and as mentioned shares a border with the ever aggressive China.

Our first stop was Darjeeling. The majestic and mysterious West Bengalese city synonomous with tea, trains, tranquility and Kachenchunga (the world’s 3rd tallest peak — depending on how you measure).

Darjeeling was merely a stop off, a recommendation from our friend, Rudy (he’s been everywhere) who heartily recommended a day or two to chill there amongst the tea. It was lovely — and we certainly did chill — to the bone. As we left Bagdogra, the soot, sweat, and grime of the small city (and there was a lot for such a small city!) faded away. Soon, in our formerly sweaty shorts and t-shirts we were shivering our way to an altitude of 6,700 feet in a matter of hours, watching as the sun sank into the distant smog of West Bengal.

The smoggy sunset on the way up the mts to Darjeeling

The air up here was (mostly) clean and fresh. We rolled through the cool evening mist passing towns with those half finished concrete buildings you find throughout southeast Asia, little settlements with houses dotted in among the trees, sometimes with faces peeking out calling children to dinner, or people carrying laundry baskets. Through lush greenery, we rose. Our driver, completely oblivious to our existence, rolled his windows down and barreled onward roaring up the winding path, dangling off the mountain at times, not phased by the fear of falling thousands of feet to a fiery death.

Darjeeling

Finally, around 8pm or so, in the freezing dark, we arrived in Darjeeling. Our hotel was a simple multi-story concrete structure – basically a refrigerator with a functioning toilet (hooray!) and a bed. We put on four layers of clothes, mostly t-shirts, I bundled up in what I could, and Sophie’s toes blackened in anticipation of a hard night’s sleep.

Actually, I slept pretty well. We had our run of the kitchen, “What would you like?” they asked. Unable to read Ghorka or Bengali, we were content to point at the menu and hope for the best. The food was some of the spiciest I’d ever eaten. My nose ran from the cold and the spice, and we shivered, exhausted.

Checking out a monastery in Darjeeling after a lovely 3am wakeup call to head up to Tiger Hill and see Kachenchunga

I had interviewed for a job in London in September, just after we returned from Morocco and the recruiter (in, as it would turn out, her infinite wisdom) had chosen this particular night to speak with me. After our earlier flight to Bagdogra, our harrowing white-knuckled ride up into the mountains in a freezing truck, and our traumatic welcome into Darjeeling (which included almost being hit by the Darjeeling Express), Mildred (her name has been changed) decided this was the night for a conversation about renumeration.

“Hi Brian, how are you?” She asked.

“Fine… My teeth aren’t chattering…” I said, delirious with fatigue. “And you?”

“Oh well, I’m well…Where are you in your travels now?”

“The Himalayas.”

“Lovely.”

“Y-y-eah…” I said shivering.

At this point I would have settled on a warm cup of coffee for a salary (in fact, I did). That evening, we went to look for snacks before our dinner came, but we were only able to find piles of Nabisco type things: banana crispies and what-have-you.

Darjeeling is relatively small (for India) at around 130K souls

The next day we woke up at 3am to head to Tiger Hill to get catch a glimpse of the Kachenchunga peak at sunrise. This is a very touristy daily event, and hawkers ran back and forth selling hot chai from a thermos and weirdly shaped woolen caps (that looked like they had been made for house elves).

Was it worth it? Yes. After an hour of shivering and buying woolen caps, we finally mashed in with some people to catch a glimpse of the glorious Kachenchunga, a sacred mountain for the Lepcha people, and it should certainly be considered one for the rest of us too. It was awe-inspiring. But exhausting. And teeth-chatteringly cold. But ultimately totally not too touristy and worth the pain.

Mighty Kachenchunga just after dawn on Tiger Hill

Our driver then took us to a confusing stupa, but to be fair, I am confused by most stupas (being as unintentionally ethnocentric as the next Westerner). But they are still an interesting and eye-catching religious symbol.

Darjeeling is obviously famous for the eponymous tea that so famously grows on its steep slopes. The people that have picked it there for generations have come from different places — but many of them are well cared for by the family companies that have been running the slopes for many years. Of course, I believe this is mostly bullshit PR and that they probably live in difficult conditions — we attended the tea museum in Darjeeling that begged to differ, stating that the tea pickers are mostly women because they have ‘tiny, tiny hands’. The truth is, the workers are all women because they work harder picking tea while they chatter happily at one another (this is what another tea company man said). But they also have healthcare and childcare, relatively good benefits in India, I’d wager.

Happy Valley tea plantation — what a happy place. Fancy a spoonful of tea?

Hands down, the most incredible part about Darjeeling – besides the surrounding beauty, and interesting cultural traditions — you truly do have access to the most incredible tea. For those of us among the uninitiated, we didn’t know there were such things as first, second, and so forth flushes — types of tea strategically picked at different times to exhibit certain properties. For some of these teas, a cup can cost around $45… that’s one cup. The most expensive we sprung for was a $12 first blush black tea. It was easily the most interesting cup of tea I’ve ever had. Back in the city, every fifth store sells tea and conspicuous tea wholesalers are rummaging through piles of tea packages wafting and scrutinizing the leaves, rattling the little foil packages. It’s quite fun to explore the little shops get to inhale the different aromas.

Nowhere in the world will you have a chance to sample tea so fresh.  It really is the dream experience for a beverage lover, and it really gave me a new appreciation for tea (a beverage that has never been too fascinating to me).

Sikkim

Well, after a few days in Darjeeling, it was straight on to Gangtok in Sikkim. Zooming through the underbrush at the speed of sound, our next driver (in a long series of drivers) dangled off cliff after cliff, but interestingly enough, we were headed down to a lower elevation in Gangtok. After we passed the proper military checkpoint – which included paying a small visa processing fee and getting a pretty cool little stamp in our passport — we headed on.

Gangtok was fun to walk around — it had many alleyways that meandered up and down, this way and that — each one had snacks

The city itself wasn’t much to marvel at. Unlike Darjeeling, it sits at a lower elevation, so doesn’t quite cling to the mountains in the same way. While it’s buildings are mostly built-up concrete, there is a certain charm to its streets and it is possible to walk around, if nervously (as always in Indian traffic).

One of the more depressing, but interesting sites we visited was the Tibetan Refugee Center. For anyone that cares about the Tibetans and how they were robbed of their country, leader, heritage, relics, and livelihoods by the imperialist dogs — it is pretty riveting and may cause an intense emotional experience. For someone who really loves the beauty and mystery of Tibetan Buddhism, it will be an even more emotional experience. However, I must warn it’s not a light-hearted experience.

This is where a lot of Tibetan artifacts were brought after the Chinese murdered most of the Tibetans in actual Tibet and annexed their country and enslaved the inhabitants brutally

A monk smiles at a dog at Rumtek Monastery outside of Gangtok

Another incredible part of Tibetan culture certainly worth experiencing was the food. In Gangtok, we enjoyed an incredible Tibetan food experience. Up two flights of rickety stairs in the town’s high street, we found a little Tibetan cafe that smelled incredible. It was packed with people, and we got to share a table with a mother and her little son. Her three year old was eating food so spicy that it would have reduced most adults to full-on tantrum mode. Here we enjoyed momo dumplings and hot noodle soup.

Prayer flags waving in the wind at Rumtek Monastery

The people of Darjeeling, and Gangtok, were all very accommodating. All in all, two of the least touristy places I’ve ever been (although, as our driver in Gangtok pointed out, that’s changing rapidly). He was a friendly fellow, fluent in Bengali, Lepcha, Gorka, and pretty good in English too. After he drove us around for the day, he asked, “Can we stop for a chai?” We sat down for a few chais at a quaint little cafe, where the proprietor kept a vat of tea kettle simmering all day long. Our driver conversed with the owner a while, and we enjoyed the peaceful ambience of the mountain city.

It’s their land after all… but don’t tell Modi

As part of our quirky tour, we were repeatedly handed off from driver to driver, subcontracted out by our truly bizarre tour company. As we prepared to hop out of one truck to the other, I tried to hand our new friend a tip. He shook his head vehemently, “You’ve already paid.” He said, and sent us on our way.

Another time our driver dropped us off in a parking garage and drove away without telling us anything. We just stood there for an hour questioning all the decisions in life that brought us to that frightening vault full of rabid dogs and keyed up young men. But we survived.

In Gangtok, you have a chance to visit Rumtek Monastery, a heavily-guarded and functioning Buddhist monastery. After an incredibly uncomfortable, but worthwhile trip around the valley, we arrived at the monastery. The heavily armed guards seized our passports — which made us very nervous — and then we wandered around as the monks read their morning prayer. I think the prayer lasted close to an hour and was punctuated with frequent coughs and snorts. As this went on, we wandered around awkwardly, past the canteen where some monks were eating bowls of rice and candy bars…for breakfast. Then, we peeked into the shrine, where yet another armed guard (with an AK-47 under his arm) looked at us suspiciously as we made an offering of some unknown amount of rupees.

A shrine with a view

“Hmmm…” We said, unsure of what one ‘does’ at Rumtek. The only clearly marked sign was the men’s bathroom, and there were some stalls on the way up selling some trinkets. We were the only tourists that day, but it was clear there were normally more tourists. So we took a quick walk up the hill to where one could catch a glimpse of the shrine building itself and the beautiful many-colored and waving flags that adorn the monastery. It was really very lovely. It smelled like incense, as almost everywhere in Sikkim does, and we coughed a bit as we brushed through a cloud of it. Then, we dodged the monks’ underwear which were drying on a clothesline and headed back to the car for a bumpy, dusty ride back to Gangtok.

At the gate, we asked for our passports back. They looked puzzled, and for a moment we almost vomited out our hearts when they couldn’t find them. Then, the we saw a lightbulb form over the guard’s head and he pulled them out of his vest pocket, dusting them off and handing them back with a less menacing grimace which I think was meant to be an apology.

Rumtek is stunningly beautiful and colorful, the location is incredible — but there is nothing else there besides some banana crispies

For a Buddhist shrine, there sure were a lot of men with guns. That must be part of that new agey second-amendment-fold-path — No wait… that’s BOOMism, not Buddhism. I’m confused.

All aboard the Darjeeling Express… Just watch out that it doesn’t run you over

Sikkim is a magnificently beautiful part of India, despite really being its own country. It has lost its autonomy but still retains a distinct cultural feeling that separates it from the rest of the country. The Ghorkas as recently as we were there, were in a state of revolt to retain some of their autonomy from the strong administration of the Modi government, which controls much of the local government politics of a largely Buddhist region. Still, better that religious freedom prevails somewhat stifled, rather than being completely stamped out like the Tibetans who now live in exile in Sikkim if they weren’t already murdered.

On the charming streets of Gangtok in the evening

-Brian

 

Da Nang and the Delta

 

Hoi An is worth a stroll, but in the rain is considerably less fun

Hoi An

Hoi An, the ancient city bit is known for its resemblance to a French Village, preserving the colonial Indo-China style town as part of yet another UNESCO heritage site. It was highly recommended to us by many people, and it was definitely an interesting place. The main attraction is the river and the bridges with scenic riverfront buildings on either side of the water. Like other UNESCO heritage sites, the main thing to do here is try to fight other tourists to take a picture without the other tourists in it. Hoi An has been thoroughly touristed. Prices here are twice to four times as high as in Da Nang, so only get lunch here if you want to punish your wallet.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BaMBMgqAnsQ/?taken-by=we_quit_our_jobs_to_travel

You’ll pay more for everything in Hoi An, especially to get to the village. Take Uber, or as my local friend Hien suggests, take Grab, a cheaper motorbike option that will drop you at the village and allow you to arrange pickup at your convenience.

While being brutally ripped off for lunch, we overheard some women discussing their plans to stay in Hoi An for five days. Five days!!! It’s interesting and certainly worth taking a few pictures, splurging on a coffee and rambling a bit, but I would suggest limiting your time here to a morning or an afternoon. See a temple and wave goodbye as you motor on your way back to Da Nang.

Gosh Da Nangit!

Da Nang at night is an impressive sight, full of dazzling colors and light

Ringing in as the impressive fourth largest city in Vietnam, Da Nang has a much different vibe than HCMC or Hanoi. It should be noted that there is also a dividing line that runs from a few blocks west of the beach through the middle of town, a line that is marked by average prices and tourists per square foot.

On the beach side, Da Nang has a row of resorts full of Russian, Chinese, French, German, and American tourists. With their private beaches and built-in restaurants, they mostly never venture past the line of towering hotels that make up the seaside. Hey man, that’s their loss! Venturing into the bustle of the larger city is well worth it for a food adventure or a run-of-the-mill anthropological experience. Da Nang is very much a large, everyday city full of normal people going to work and eating normal Vietnamese food. I’m sure there’s a formula that entails the price of food declining per meter as you head away from the water. We got dinner for 20,000 Vietnamese dong each at a little stall deep in the city, where you can find a big bowl of pho for less than $1. Granted, some of it is horrible, but there is a lot of really great food too. Overall, our experience was good, and for that price you have to be willing to risk a bellyache.

It’s a Day at the Beach!

Da Nang’s coastline on a stormy day

After you’ve had your fill of the commotion in the city, and oggled the dazzling lights of Da Nang at night (which are seriously glitzing), please take a day off and go plant yourself in a beach cabana. Pick a day that it’s not raining, and ideally one not too close to typhoon weather and pay about $3 to rent a cabana for as long as you like. The beach in Da Nang runs the length of the city and abuts a couple marvelous mountains to the north. If you fancy a swim, make sure the waves aren’t too insane because the overzealous life guards won’t cut you any slack, and, in fact, we saw one kick a local man after he braved a dip in the roaring tide when he wasn’t supposed to. However, you’ll find an ample supply of refreshing drinks to sip waterside. Try a freshly cracked coconut or an iced Vietnamese coffee and enjoy zoning out a bit as the tide rolls in along the long, beautiful coast. Make friends with the bartenders and don’t sweat it when a gaggle of Chinese tourists want to take selfies with you, feel those beach vibes and smile.

On to the Delta…

Not to be alarmist, but if you want to see the Mekong Delta, you have limited time. The Chinese have been building dams for the past five years or so and are set to complete more soon at several points along the Mekong River, that begins at the Chinese-controlled origin of the river. You don’t have to know a lot about rivers to understand that the more the Chinese choke off the source, the less the river will flow. As the river dries it will destroy traditions, communities, and the way of life of people in Laos, Cambodia, Vietnam, and of course China. Not to make the Chinese Development Bank out to be a villian here, come on folks there’s no imperial country that isn’t guilty, but there was a theme on our trip, and I’m just saying, it was that everyone is nervous about China destroying their way of life.

Taking a boat ride with an old lady in her miniscule boat is an authentic way to be terrified by the scale of the Mekong

Anyway, the Delta is in real danger from this, as well as from development of other kinds, i.e. roadways, techology, and even, yes, tourism! So, if you want to see it before it’s gone, counterintuitively, go and visit it before it’s too late. Don’t just take my word for it, please read this incredibly thorough and well-written (as always) article from The Economist. This is why I chose this year to visit the delta.

Wild jackfruit, pineapples, coconuts, black pepper, and a variety of other fruits and spices grow wild along the backwater paths

Be careful about how you get there, of course. There are tours that will whisk you down to the delta and back in a day and with the new highways that connect the growing cities there, it shouldn’t be too uncomfortable. But it will cost you at minimum $65 and a miserable visit to a pineapple farm and a coconut candy factory (with an obligatory purchase of 5kg of candy). Heeding the advice of those that came before and lived to tell the tale (on Tripadvisor) and also share an aversion to being ripped off, we decided to do it on our own). And our experience getting to Can Tho was interesting enough…

A picturesque scene of bamboo swallowing an untended harbor, at first I thought this boat was abandoned but realized many people were using boats in similar shape to transport themselves and goods around the delta

A ticket from the Ho Chi Minh City airport to the bug bus station is around $2. From there, there are a multitude of companies that offer cheap yet comfortable service to Can Tho, Ben Tre and other locations along the Mekong. Of course, knowing so little, we didn’t choose one of those services. We walked up to a window and said “Kann Toe!” to which the ticket seller looked confused, then seemed to understand we meant Can Tho. A woman ran over to us and hurriedly grabbed us, “Can Tho? Can Tho?” She asked, and dramatically added, “Must hurry!” So we paid around $5 each or 110K Dong. And we did not enjoy that ride, let me tell you! The bus, like many of the long haul buses in Vietnam, have semi-reclining seats, much like the seats in a dentist’s office, except these didn’t smell extremely sterile (and, in fact, were not extremely sterile but quite the opposite)… Also, Sophie discovered about ten minutes into the journey that she had a seat companion, a large roach named Pho, living in the pocket where riders are expected to stick their odiferous feet. In addition, a really poorly-executed Vietnamese drama about a singing pageant winner with family drama was blaring on the television for 90% of the journey. Added to that cacophony was the screeching laughter of the ancient woman perched in the seat in front of me, who turned around to glare at me every fifteen seconds and moments later smacked my feet with mirth when the show’s protaganist delivered each cheesy punchline. In short, it was not a fun trip down.

Can Tho, you should go!

The dwellings and palms along the river and its small tributaries is beautiful around sunset

However, Can Tho is worth the arduous journey. Having grown at such a rapid clip, the population skyrocketing in the past five years by about ten times, it is surprisingly now a bustling city. With the construction of the new highway, the city is also choking the boating way of life of the people that used to ship and sell on their little skiffs. As Doi, our gregarious and well-informed tour guide explained, the floating market at Cai Rang, once a truly gigantic affair consisting of 1,000+ boats, has since shrunken to a meager 150 or so merchants peddling pineapples, mostly for the benefit of tourists. The reason, Doi elaborated, is that it is much easier and more cost effective to ship by truck on the new highway. His dire prediction, though tinged with his infecting optimism, is that the market will cease to exist within three years or so. Life is changing on the delta.

A pagoda deep in the delta

But, we had a chance to enjoy it while it’s still there. We bargained with a decrepit old woman, who was so bow-legged she waddled like a turtle, as she offered us the best sunset cruise in Can Tho on her boat. We agreed, and when we returned at dusk, she said, “Yes, go with my sister.” I doubt it was her sister, but another equally hunched woman puttered us around the delta, and even enjoyed making me row the boat for a while, across the Mekong at a wide point, cackling at my difficulty in operating the standing oars. By the time I got the hang of it, she had lost interest, and we zoomed along backwaters through dense jungle, past humble waterfront houses, and abandoned, half-sunken boats.

Rowing one of the “traditional” boats was surprisingly complicated and required more coordination than I possess

We wanted to see ‘the real delta’, but we were skeptical of tours, however, after carefully perusing the tours on offer at our hotel, we took the plunge. We got lucky. Our tour guide, Doi, training at a local school for tour guides, was a delightful person to enjoy the sights, sounds, and smells of the delta. We went for a muddy bike ride to a shrine, deep in the jungle, sampling wild fruits and leaves along the way, as we happened on them. We visited a somewhat tacky rice noodle factory and say a brand new monastary that the jungle had already half eaten. We took a boat ride, exploring an entirely new bit of the backwaters than we had seen at sunset. Finally, Doi took us for a meal at a local place, warning me, “it’s not included in the tour’. It was OK, it only cost us about a dollar for a soda and bao xio, meat or veg wrapped in local leaves, i.e. banana, mint, basil or a variety of tree leaves that are consumed locally. Dipped in a local, but unknown sauce that really made the whole leafy wrap palatable, it was one of the more memorable meals for the atmosphere. “I want to take people to local places, show them the real Can Tho”, Doi explained, beckoning to the long concrete, warehouse-building full of cafeteria fold-up tables with plastic chairs. It was truly local and incredibly delicious. Before departing, Doi recommended we try Vietnamese hotpot on the street in Can Tho called ‘hot pot alley’.

We biked around the backwaters of Can Tho, seeing a good amount of the muddy countryside

So, that night we stumbled, fatigued from biking around the narrow, muddy paths of the delta through bamboo forests and rice paddies, onto a street humming with motorcycles and Vietnamese youths. Nothing was in English on any of the signs, so we knew we were on the right track. We passed over a few places after a dirty look or two, and finally decided on the last choice, a place that looked like a cross between a parking garage and a lawn party. A young guy saw us looking at the menu and smiled, giving me the thumbs up, then he stuffed a chicken liver in his mouth and gave me another thumbs up and a nod.

A local shrine to the sacred, now-extinct wild tiger that roamed in the region before migratory resettlement of the delta region around a thousand years ago. People still burn incense and ask the tiger to protect their family from illness and harm.

“Ok,” I said, “This is the place for us”. We sat down and pointed at a few things on the menu, the adolescent waiter lit up a huge burner and dropped on a gigantic pot of clear liquid, and brought about fifteen little bowls which contained all manner of meats, vegetables, spices, noodles, fats, and other unknowns. We shrugged, and started chucking things in, a dash of red fiery sauce, a handful of offal, a cube of fat, a splash of that dark black broth. Then, we waited, basking in the ambience of the laughter of local people enjoying a meal with friends. There was a lot of anticipation. After it was thoroughly cooked, we pulled out some pieces, added the noodles, and chowed down. It was very good, and just the right amount of spice that we cried a little. As we were leaving, the guy threw us another thumbs up, this time an inquisitive one, like “Was it good?” I nodded to signal yes, it was very good.

Sophie looking a bit dazed and perhaps underwhelmed at Cai Rang after getting up at 4am to see a lot of pineapples on boats

I want to mention one more awesome place in Can Tho. A&T Coffee. For 15K dong you can get an excellent pate bahn mi and for 20K more, you can add on a great little coffee that is sugary as candy but also bold and robust. It doubles as a pawn shop, and if you’re not careful the owners will politely ask you to play the guitar and sing for them. After I asked if I could noodle on the guitar a bit, the owner asked me to play a song. “Ok,” I said shyly (this was our second visit) and I played House of the Rising Sun. “You come back later?” she asked. “Maybe,” I said. A lot of the places we went on our trip, we ended up going back a second time if we were sure we wouldn’t get food poisoning or ripped off, but Sophie and I drew the line at three times, that was just getting weird.

Last bus out of Saigon

So, we had learned to be more careful when getting bus tickets in Vietnam. We had our hotel book our tickets on the way back to HCMC, and what a difference! For the same price, FUTA picked us up, gave us a bottle of water, and the bus was sparkly clean. So, word of caution, do your research so you don’t end up with Pho the roachy seat mate.

Enjoying views of the palms and water plants along the might Mekong

So, we didn’t get to see as much of the delta as we would have liked, in reality, it is still hard to get between places. But we loved Can Tho, and the people were a world away from the attitude in HCMC. As we ventured south in Vietnam, the people got friendlier and friendlier, and Can Tho was the icing on the coconut. Every adorable little kid we biked by in the Delta and every shop owner was eager to wave and say hi, ask where we were from, how we liked the Delta. The proprietor of our hotel went out of his way to make us feel comfortable and went beyond making us feel like customers, and instead made us feel like guests. I’ve never seen deeper smile lines or the look of contentment of the fishermen who lazily threw out their nets into the muddy depths of the Mekong. The hospitality made me think of the lyrics from Proud Mary,

“they don’t have no worries,
they ain’t got no money,
people on the river are happy to give.”

I hate to think that that culture will change as Can Tho grows exponentionally. As Doi explained, construction and migration are the new way of life in Can Tho, there’s not enough housing and an influx of people, investments, and tourism will completely alter the way of life. But that’s the way of rivers, as my favorite Disney princess says, “You never step in the same river twice”.

-Brian

A woman reluctantly sold us one pineapple after hauling them all the way from Cambodia on the river, hoping to sell them in bulk on a slow market day

 

Not Your Mom’s Madrid

If you’ve been to Madrid before, you’ve probably visited the royal palace, some beautiful plazas, and the many other great tourist attractions this city has to offer. Of the handful of European capitals that I’ve been to before, I would suggest that Madrid’s features are some of the most resplendent and memorable. But the world does not need another blog post about the obvious appeals of this Spanish city. Hence, I offer you here five other things to do when in Madrid.

The unique decor of Zombie Bar

1. Explore the “Brooklyn” of Madrid

It is well known, apparently, that Chueca is the hippest neighborhood in Brookl-I-mean-Madrid. And it is indeed funky, but it’s starting to turn chi-chi rather than chai-chai. However, it’s neighbor Malasaña has inherited that grungy, gentrifying vibe from Chueca. Part red light district, part old family businesses, this area is now interspersed with cute clothing boutiques, artisanal cocktail bars, and Instagram-worthy food-porn restaurants. By pure happenstance, our Airbnb was located here and we had a great time exploring the neighborhood and finding some good seats from which to people watch. Much like riding the L train as it goes from west Manhattan to Brooklyn, the outfits quickly digressed into overalls, mom jeans, and crop tops. You could lose hours wandering around here or drinking in Zombie Bar with the light-up Ronald McDonald head. You know, the usual.

Baos and dim sum at Toy Panda in Madrid

2. Ethnic Cuisine

Of course, Madrid offers excellent native cuisine from pigs ears to tapas classics gone gastronomized (i.e. liquified tortillas). Our favorite meals, though, were some ethnic influences brought in through the active trail of immigrants to this cosmopolitan city. We ate a three course Peruvian meal in Malasaña for only €10 at Ceviche Madrid, including a hearty portion of ceviche (obviously) and stone fruit jelly for dessert. For a more casual meal, we ate baos at Toy Panda not once, but twice within a five day span in a city with a gazillion fabulous restaurants. If that doesn’t tell you something about these amazing Chinese bun sandwiches, I don’t know what will! We loved everything we tried from the wasabi mayo tempura prawn bun to the Korean sriracha sauced crispy squid bun to the wide array of dim sum. Nothing in Toy Panda’s dishes could be faulted, each bite was perfect. Except for the last bite, because it made me sad.

You never know what you might see…

3. The Lesser-Known Collections

Madrid is famous for its art museums, namely El Prado and La Reina Sofia. Most people burn out after one or two art museums per vacation, but People of The World, don’t give up! Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza has a fantastic collection including works from Caravaggio to Dali to Renoir to name just a few. Arranged with the oldest pieces on the top floor so that patrons are obliged to work their way down to the modern exhibitions on the lower floors, this museum offers a great morning activity and is easily located on the same stretch of road as many other major Madrid museums. Best of all, there were so few people there, even during tourist season. No one with a big head to block out Cezanne, yes!

A Dixieland band jamming in La Latina

4. Sunday Street Party

We were fortunate to be in Madrid for a Sunday morning, which allowed us to go down to La Latina, way past Plaza Mayor, to the Il Rastro market. The market itself was overcrowded and offered the same standard issue stalls selling “hemp pants actually probably possibly made in or near Nepal”, but there were street performers all over that kept the crowds upbeat and moving. Hands down, the best musicians we saw were right at the top of the market and they were killing it with Dixieland standards. Situated in a mercifully shady courtyard, this group of artists were jamming out with huge smiles on their faces as small children danced clumsily in front of the “stage”. Next time, I will skip the market and just bring a picnic chair to watch the street acts at their best, just as the locals were doing.

Sunset on the Gran Via

5. Rooftop Bar Market

Mercado San Anton is still a little off the beaten tourist path, but it won’t stay this way for long. Situated on a quiet street in the “Brooklyn” part of town, this market is comprised of three upper levels that are pristine and visually appealing to anyone with a tongue. The first story houses about twenty or so food vendors selling fresh produce, perfect pastries, and a wide variety of charcuterie. The next level up offers more prepared foods, a small art gallery, and a colorful bar with a secluded open air balcony. The top floor is an open-air bar with a wide skyline view of the neighborhood that dazzles during sunset. In short, there is something for everyone here. So everyone should go. Except don’t, this is Madrid’s best kept secret.

That’s the funny thing about traveling, isn’t it? There’s usually a reason places are visited by droves of visitors — because it is historically significant or offers a unique sighting of something that cannot be experienced elsewhere. But when something becomes a must-see, it is promptly ruined by the foot traffic, the rules, and the 25,000 photos of the exact same doorway posted to Facebook. See this recent article from The Guardian on UNESCO heritage designations ruining places. Seriously, we are one hundred percent guilty of this.

We often say to each other, “Wow, it would be so cool to have visited this place 200 years ago, there’d be no one here! It would actually be a novel experience. Our friends and family wouldn’t believe what we’d seen. Souvenirs would actually be treasured. It would be so fascinating!” However, if that were the case — that we tried to travel 200 years ago, we’d be pretty much out of luck between the prohibitive cost of travel and the basic resource of time it would have required. So really, I can’t complain that Madrid has been trampled over by a million gagillion people. The resources that make it possible for everyone else to enjoy Madrid are the same resources that I benefit from. And I’m glad I went.

-Sophie

Bilbao: You Couldn’t Basque for Anything More

Bilbao

The first thing we noticed in the bright and shiny modern Bilbao airport, apart from nicely-dressed passengers deplaning there alongside us, was the first language that appeared on the signage. “That’s not Spanish,” I said to Sophie, “Too many Xs”. My research about Bilbao, insensitively consisting of Googling “Bilbao?” had suggested that Euskadi was a language we would encounter, but I hadn’t realized that we would encounter it to this extent. My first reaction was disappointment, I had thoroughly enjoyed practicing my Spanish in Sevilla and was afraid I wouldn’t have a chance to in Bilbao. Turns out that fear was unfounded. Everyone in Bilbao speaks Spanish, but the will to bring back the Euskadi language, which was much damaged by its prohibition during the Franco years, is strong. As our Airbnb host explained, the language is being encouraged so that the cultural roots of the Basque people can be celebrated. “In twenty years or so,” he told us,”the kids who are learning it in school now will grow up and there will be many more speakers.”

The Basque people, like the Galicians and Catalonians, are constantly seeking independence because of their cultural and linguistic differences

The language itself is very interesting, belonging to its own linguistic group separate from any other language. After a long period of cultural repression, disdain seems to have given way to a profound cultural pride, such energy that is exhibited in all its glory in events like Aste Nagusia (the celebration in Bilbao of the Assumption of Mary). From an outside perspective, the festival might appear to be a drinking competition, but with some insight our understanding of the festival was expanded to a drinking competition that is broken into local chapters and groups called cuadrillas.

Folk band marching through the Casco Viejo

It was an excellent circumstance under which to visit the city, because I think we were given a window into the soul of the city, its excesses, its identity politics, and its local pride exhibited. Bilbao was an industrial capital, before its spirit rose like a phoenix from rusted factories to become a cultural capital, site of the modern art exhibiting Guggenheim museum, and a number of other modernist experiments in architecture and cultural expression. The confluence of the modern and ancient cities doesn’t create the clash you might expect, instead it provides just the right mix of both to provide a visitor with the convenience of modern comfort and all the mystery of old world Europe.

People watch a folk dance as part of the Aste Nagusia festival in the Plaza Nueva

The Casco Viejo, the old neighborhood, was where we stayed and it is overflowing with character. It was the epicenter of the Aste Nagusia festival with folk dancing taking place in the Plaza Nueva five minutes away and traditional pipe bands marching down the street at odd intervals. The only truly uncomfortable part of the festival was the hour long fireworks show that commenced every night at 10:30 and literally rattled the windows of our accommodation. The endurance of the festival-goers was inspiring, some of them coming home from the festivities at 6 or 7 am just as we were having our morning coffee.

The Casco Viejo is the old town in Bilbao. Great place to eat and wander aimlessly

 

‘Pinxtos’

In Bilbao, the food is also a part of the culture that has been positively affected by the cultural revolution. “Pinxtos” as they are called, are the answer to the rest of Iberia’s tapas, it means a “pinch” though the portions are usually more generous. Like clockwork every night the denizens of Bilbao swarm into the pinxtos bars and consume an outrageous amount of decadently rich, gout-inducing bites of tempura-fried and bread-laden goodness. If there’s any modern art worth seeing (read: tasting) in Bilbao, it’s these little delights. My shortlist of candidates for a tasting was pulled from a number of sources and they did not disappoint, with few exceptions.

Fishy bites at El Globo

El Globo: Good

El Globo is like a frenetic food auction. The experience trumps the food, though the food is certainly good. Despite the crowd, there is ample space at the tiny bars to stand and wolf down your tapas. Figuring out what to order is the challenge. Long rows of various delectable meats, cheeses, and seafood creations are lined along both bars. This establishment is a good place to practice shouting your Spanish, they don’t appear to understand English which made it an enjoyable challenge trying to describe obscure foods, many of which have completely different names than the ones we’ve learned. The best dishes here have something pickled on them, which seems to be their emphasis.

An exotic mix of pinxtos

Panko: Good

Panko is, as the name suggests, a celebration of bread and more succinctly, things fried in breadcrumbs. Their selection of wines and pinxtos added variety to our evening, and the prices are very reasonable. The mushroom croqueta was delicious and like all of their pinxtos, atop a piece of bread.

The pinxtos selection at El Huevo Frito

El Huevo Frito: El Mejor (the best)

Easily the best place we ate in all of our time in Spain. Each exquisite bite was adorned with a quail egg, so imagine that with a perfect bit of roasted duck and a raspberry compote on top of a toasty nibble of bread. In hindsight, we could have eaten here every night. I told the woman who helped us that it was our favorite place in the city we had eaten and she beamed at us proudly. Judging by the crowd, the locals like this place as well.

Bar Charly: Disappointment

This bar was too hipster for us even to enter. The cool kids were there and we got nervous and left. The food looked fine, but the prices were too high compared with the rest of the places and shit was just getting too artisenal. This was in Plaza Nueva, which was as beautiful as it was difficult to find.

Gure Toki: Not for us

If Bar Charly had all the hipsters, this place had the yuppies. While the food was too experimental for us to even include in our pinxtos tour, I have to give them an A for aesthetics, the liquid nitrogen-infused tuna eyeball on gluten-free toast looked incredible (pun intended!).

Victor Montes: Just ok

Traditional, uncomplicated pinxtos in Plaza Nueva. While the food can’t be technically faulted, the ambiance as stuffy and the staff was rude, like so rude they threw our change on the ground.

Life Beyond Food

Enough with the food, Bilbao has much more to offer. For an enchanting walk, look no further than a stroll that begins in the Casco Viejo and terminates by the Guggenheim. Wind around through a few of the ancient streets and eventually you’ll arrive at the river with your choice of bridge. I recommend the super modern footbridge that will surely remind you of the Millenium Bridge in London.

Outside the Guggenheim, a dog was covered in flowers

The city is incredibly pedestrian friendly and simple to navigate. Along the walk you’ll witness an incredible variety of architecture, from the very old to the very hideous former council flats now chic apartments to the just-put-up-yesterday corporate high rise.

View from the river side of the Guggenheim Museum

For a quick jaunt outside the city, take public transport out to the coast Bidezabal. A lovely walk is only 30 minutes from the city and Bilbao’s public transport is disturbingly clean and quiet. The coast is beautiful (once you escape the industrial side of the mouth of the river) and you can enjoy watching paragliders tempt fate above the rocky cliffs.

A sportsman parasailing on the beautiful Basque coast near an abandoned bunker

Pamplona

Beyond Bilbao, we spent some time in Pamplona and took a day trip to ritzy San Sebastian. We (sensibly) visited Pamplona after the San Fermin running of the bulls to appreciate the feel of a small, calm city. Our Airbnb apartment was five stories up a rickety building with a few hundred years of history. The windows overlooked the cobbled streets of the bulls run and the smell of dark chocolate garrotes wafted up from the ground floor bakery, Pastelería Beatriz Pamplona.

View of the cathedral in Pamplona

While this city isn’t overflowing with activities for tourists, we kept ourselves occupied by listening to live flamenco during the Flamenco on Fire festival and by ambling around the ornate cathedral with a trippy museum display basically spelling out humanity’s doom. Our hostess provided us with a long list of restaurant and tapas bar recommendations which we sampled. One of the most interesting bites we had was sea urchin chowder served in it’s spiny shell.

While we had a nice, relaxing time in Pamplona, it may be the sort of place you only visit for a night or two if you don’t have any concrete plans. During the off season, the tourist attractions are minimal and the hours kept by shop keepers are limited. Nevertheless, if you want to experience a bit of Navarra’s culture, Pamplona is gorgeous and friendly.

A collection of creepy religious artifacts in the Pamplona Cathedral

San Sebastian

San Sebastian, notorious for it’s upper class appeal, was a treat to visit (but assuredly too expensive to live in). We took an ALSA bus early one morning from Bilbao and arrived into San Sebastian before all of the billionaires recovered from their caviar-induced hangovers. We found coffee and pastries at a friendly cafe near the river and made our way over to the oldest part of the city near the beach.

“Regatta gala” at the harbor in San Sebastian

There is an excellent walk we took up to the castle and statue of Jesus set high up on a hill overlooking the town. Along the way there are excellent vantage points to spot swaths of yachts and the mountains in the distance. To cool off, we waded into the surf down along the shore and were amazed with how clear and refreshing (but not cold) the water was. If we didn’t have another bus ride later in the day, we surely would have thrown ourselves into the calm water for a few sunny hours.

 

 

We’ll definitely be dreaming of this beach in January. Ah, the but the dream had to end, so we hopped on a train to Madrid and bid goodbye to the North of Spain.

-Brian & Sophie

Bits of Britain and Parts of Portugal

Scotland

View along our hike in the Ross and Cromarty area.

The Craggy Bits

There is nothing quite as lovely as a Scottish summer. Cold winds blowing from what seems like every direction, rain spitting down every five minutes or so, and the horrid heat of the sun when it finally comes out, hot enough to make you sweat, but never enough to dry your rain-soaked skin. Oh, but the landscape is beautiful and the Scottish hospitality runs deep.

A tree in the fully glory of the Scottish summer

We had the fortune of having a personal guide (hiya Kate!) with whom we enjoyed the natural sights of The Highlands, namely the fascinating towns of Plockton and Torridon. Sojourning for a night at The Station Bunkhouse, we had the pleasure of creaky old bunkbeds and a heavily annotated copy of Scotland: A History. Some such emphatic annotations included: “Walls: good for keeping out MEN and ANIMALS. Great idea!” and “This is a clear lack of professionalism!” The bunkhouse also had an industrial kitchen large enough to feed the occupying English army. Another interesting point in Plockton, the inexplicable but well marked open-air church. So when in Plockton, stop in and stand in puzzlement for a moment, shrug, and then try your best to find the pub.

If you do find the pub in Plockton, make sure you make a reservation. Despite the fact that you have to drive hours, much of it onnarrow one-lane roads in deserted bits, the pub is bopping. So, when we entered we were asked, “Do you have a reservation?” I wanted to say, “Yes, it is under Hamish MacDonald”, but I didn’t. Then, Sophie asked for a glass of water (along with a pint of beer) and the place went quiet, except for a few murmurs of resentment. Heads turned in disbelief and an old regular said, “Hey, there’s water in beer, dear.”

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The Frilly and Fringy Bits

View of Edinburgh from the Crags

St. Andrews, however, had lovely not-so-Scottish weather during our visit because it’s full of people so wealthy that they won’t stand for any rain. The quaint little cobbled streets are full of chic shops and, yes, there is an Edinburgh Woolen Mill. Apparently, there is also a rush on cashmere so book your tickets soon. Don’t worry, they still allow regular people in, just not near the golf course please (they have attendants to shoo away the gulls and the middle class).

St. Andrews is the site of the first golf course, which would be a point of Scottish pride, I’m sure, except that, I agree golf is a good walk spoiled, and considering all the beautiful walks in Scotland (and the countryside of Scotland is very beautiful) then it’s quite a few very beautiful walks spoiled by cashmere. St. Andrews namesake university, Sophie’s alma mater, was once the site of an abbey in which pilgrims sought refuge. Today, you can see the ruins, which are spectacular, and enjoy the bourgeois, beautiful campus and surrounds, including a coffee shop that claims where William met Kate there for a date (some British popstars I guess?)

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Another notable city we visited is Edinburgh. During the Fringe, a festival of the arts (mostly theatrical comedy or serious things unfortunately taken for comedy) the city swells in population and the haggis mysteriously disappears. The festival is fun, including thousands of shows at makeshift venues all around the city. The art of the festival appears to be about choosing which show to see, for example musicals starring singing twins or naked ghost dancers, and which type of sausage to get at the German sausage cart. During our time there, we saw “Macbeth Without All the Shakespeare Bollocks” and stand-up by comedian, Ed Byrne, whose keystone joke was about how he almost let his son touch an electric fence. Sophie also saw (and participated in) a Margaret Thatcher-themed-drag/game show!

 

Haltwhistle, England

 

 

Sycamore Gap in Northumberland National Park

Hadrian’s Wall

Some happy Sheepies who live in the park

Before arriving in Scotland, we made a stop in Haltwhistle, England. Haltwhistle is an enchanting place in Northumberland National Park full of historical significance. This area is also of particular interest to stargazers as the area is a dark sky park, though with the late sunset and heavy rain clouds, we didn’t manage to see many stars.

Not only is Haltwhistle located along Hadrian’s Wall, but it is also where I passed a lovely few days with Sophie over three years ago, so we decided to return. Haltwhistle has always seemed like a romantic place to me with its green rolling hills and gray brooding clouds, here the farms and towns hide behind old roman ruins and gentle sloping rises of wheat or herds of sheep. After a nice walk along the wall, wearing my dashing rain poncho, I decided to propose marriage, and at the same time ruin my nice pants.

One of the most interesting people we encountered was our taxi driver. (Old Melvin IS still driving taxis, for those of you who are wondering, but this was a different bloke). He asked us where we were from. New York, we told him. “I’ve never been there, he said, but I don’t want to go. Went to Manchester once, no good, went to Edinburgh once, hated it, too big. I like it here, I’ve got everything I need.” I was amazed that this gentleman was so pleased with his hometown that he had not only never left his country, but had no desire to.

Our favorite place to stay in Haltwhistle is the The Twice Brewed Inn, incidentally it’s located near the village of Once-Brewed and near the worst museum/visitor center I’ve ever had the opportunity to visit. The exhibit was so poor it may well have may have well said, “Rocks are made of little rocky bits with some lava bits inside and farmers like to stack them on top of each other to keep themselves occupied.”

We love the place, but even since we’ve last been to the Twice Brewed it has changed. The management has decided to upscale and so now they have a separate restaurant section which is so fancy that they serve you your steak and ale pie so deconstructed that you need a bottle opener and a butterfly net to eat it. They are also opening a new micro-brewery that will serve beer that has been, presumably, brewed two times. It’s still a lovely inn despite losing some of its Northumbrian character to upscaling. At least the breakfast is still good and the rooms have been redone and there’s still the unforgettable walk along the path that traces Hadrian’s wall.

 

Portugal

 

 

They ring the bell, we eat Natas

Porto

After the United Kingdom, we next ventured to Porto, Portugal. Porto is an interesting city, but in some ways it lacks a clear identity, feeling a bit vaguely European and, if not for the Portuguese flag, a person could be in any number of places. Having recently been in London, Edinburgh, and Berlin in a close time period, I had to keep asking myself where I was. It is a lively city, though, thronged by hordes of tourists, mostly Western Europeans choosing to travel to safe Portugal over Tunisia and Egypt these days. The streets are so clogged that in places it is difficult to find space to walk between the buskers and the exposed metro line.

However, there are parts of the city that have been emptied (because the locals escaped for the summer). For example, we took a quick metro ride to the seaport area at the recommendation of our concierge (the only bit of his lightspeed verbal tour that we remember from our foggy 1 AM arrival into Porto). He was right. On a day when much of the city closed down because Mary assumed something or other once upon a time, the seafood restaurants were buzzing. We arrived just around lunch time and followed our noses to the smell of charcoal and the sea and suddenly we were back in the thick of it. All of Porto was trying to get some grilled sardines. Passed over place after place, by disinterested shop owners with full restaurants, we finally found a restaurant with a single empty table. “Can we please eat here?” we asked tentatively. The bespectacled man blinked and shrugged, “Hmmm…ten minutes.” He said, and we waited examining the fish as they were continuously dropped on the hot grill, looking like they had just jumped out of the ocean and on to the fire.

Our waiter prods a just caught fish right at our table

Finally, we were seated and the man, after a protracted absence came back. Did we know what we want? We thought so. We told him a few of our choices. He made a paternal, concerned face and drew his breath, as if working hard to listen to our pathetic order. When we had finished, he quickly said, “No, instead have this and this.” He brought over a gigantic whole dead sole and bream on a silver platter and poked one with his finger. “Look good, yes?” They did look good — as sushi. “And sardines and squid. We bring potatoes and salted vegetables also. You want? Yes of course you do.” He swept away before we had really consented, but in the end, he was right. The fish were fantastic, although it took them around an hour to arrive. When he brought them to our table, he filleted them on the spot and served them with the back of a spoon. “Head?” he asked. That bit was very nice, different than the rest of the fish and it would have been a real shame to waste.

In Porto, I also tried suckling pig for the first time. It came fried in a bite-sized, breaded format with an oozing white cheese. It was delectable. At the same table I tried tripe, which is pig’s intestine, a local specialty. It is an acquired taste I think. To me, it was like a bubbly rubber band with minimal taste and maximum chew time. Sophie aggressively sought out natas (Portuguese custard tarts) and nearly broke my arm dragging me into a patisserie that had just sounded the bell to announce a fresh batch. She also wanted to try other local specialities including salt cod “bacalao bras”, a dish made with potato chip sticks, and francesinah, which is much like a croque-madame meets cheese dip.

Douro River Valley

Forest fires obscure the view of the Douro River Valley

We also ventured to the Douro River Valley during our time in Porto. We went with a small guided tour, which is usually something we try to avoid, but which served us well after arriving into Portugal so late the previous night. This way, we didn’t need to make plans for the first day and could nap in the van on the way between sites (though the views we managed to catch through winks were striking).

The tour took us to a couple of pleasant villages and on a 50 minute river cruise, which was scenic, though felt pointless as we baked in the Portuguese sun. We were then provided a “traditional” Portuguese lunch of fried white fish, pork chops, a rice and bean stew, and salad. This was followed by a port wine soaked cake. Our tour also took us to some quintas — port making wineries that made the area famous. The wines made it around the world and you can get them anywhere, but the views and the ambience that you can only enjoy here, made this area a UNESCO world heritage site.

Of the others in our tour group, I most enjoyed the company of a retired Australian man who was appalled to learn the intricacies (as well as I could explain them) of the electoral college.

He said, “That’s bloody crazy!”

To which I replied,”Hey, I can’t fix America.”

-Brian

How To Be A Tourist In Your Own City

Trying to make the most of our last weeks in New York City, we’re mastering the art of stay-cation tourism.

T-minus three weeks until we officially move out of New York City. Between packing up our studio and saying goodbye to friends, we’re busy completing our NYC Bucket List. To do this, we’re devoting whole weekends and spare evenings to being tourists at home — and getting pretty good at it too! Read on for our insider tips for sightseeing in your own city and five OTHER things to do in New York.

Stay-cation Tourist Tips

1. Start your day like the local that you are: visit your secret favorite coffee shop or seek out that little-known café your co-workers are always raving about. We’ve said it before, but our favorite spot in Harlem is Astor Row Cafe or, if you’re in Brooklyn, we recommend visiting Coffee Rx (formerly The Coffee Lab) in Bay Ridge.
2. Grab breakfast at the that upscale neighborhood joint you’ve been meaning to try, but never had a reason to visit. Treat yourself, you’re on stay-cation after all!
   

   Bacon bacon bacon

   

   Tasteful wrappings

   

   Tasty pastry

   This past weekend, we made our way over to Danny Meyer’s new casual dining breakfast counter, Daily Provisions, which is part of the Union Square Hospitality Group. The sandwiches were spot on, but the pastries were the real show stoppers. Brian tried eating my maple cruller out my hand, while I snatched bites of his vanilla orange kouign amann. I almost punched him when he went for a second bite. Fool.

3. If you can get your meal to go, why not eat al fresco and enjoy more city life! Avoid the hoards of pigeons and real tourists by finding a shady bench in a smaller park. Instead of Union Square Park or Madison Square Park, head over to Stuyvesant Square just north of 14th Street. Or, if you’re uptown in Manhattan, head north of Central Park for Morningside Park or Marcus Garvey Park, both in Harlem.
4. Once you are fueled up, we recommend hitting that far away destination first. There is a reason it’s been sitting on your list — you just don’t have time to go ALL the way over there — but now is the time! For Brian and I, this perennial site of avoidance was Coney Island, way the heck down at the bottom of Brooklyn. Coming from Harlem, it was a long haul journey, but we broke it up by stopping downtown for breakfast in the park, and then plowed on.
   

   An eerily deserted Coney Island boardwalk on a cold Saturday in May

   I am so pleased we made the journey, even though it was a cold Saturday and too early in the season to enjoy sunbathing. We walked along the beach, watched a few brave souls clamber up to the Cyclone roller coaster, bought “old time-y” gummy snakes at William’s Candy Shop, and ate the requisite Nathan’s hot dog (and experienced the requisite heartburn).

5. Enjoy a drink at the local watering hole. In our opinion, no “cation” of any sort is complete without some casual day drinking to beat the midday touring slump. To combat this, we paid a visit to one of many local watering holes: Coney Island Brewing Company. A generously-poured flight of four beer samples will only set your back $8.
   

   Lovely beer flight at Coney Island Brewing Co.

   Aside from the frequent tours of the brewery, the staff and locals will keep you entertained with stories and party packs of contraband chips. More importantly, the beer was refreshing, flavorful, and diverse. Our particular favorite brews were the Mermaid Pilsner (a Coney Island staple), the Gallivanting Wit (for Belgian beer lovers), and the exceedingly smooth Overpass IPA.

   

   Enjoying a spot of day drinking

6. Feeling good? Let’s push on to our next site. Enjoy your buzz and settle back into the subway car or the bus to the next item on your itinerary. To fight travel fatigue, pull out some crossword puzzles or silly BuzzFeed quizzes to pass the time (“How many kids you will have based on your potato preferences?”). At this point, it’s easy to say “Let’s just go home and take a nap”. But, DON’T do it – future you will thank you for your perseverance.  For us, this fatigue point happened during a rather nauseating shuttle bus service when the MTA unexpectedly shut down the F train service we needed to reach Roosevelt Island, in the East River.
7. Squeezing in one more activity – worth it, right? Of course it is. There is a reason these places are tourist attractions and, if you’ve lived in your city long enough, you’ve already seen all the crowded, hyped up attractions. So, what remains now are the calmer (read: cleaner) attractions that are frequented by locals like yourself.
   

   Walkway leading to Four Freedoms Park

   If you reside in NYC, we recommend traveling out to Roosevelt Island this summer to see FDR’s Four Freedoms Park which juts out into the East River with peacefully shaded benches and views of the city. When you’re done, trying heading home a different way than you normally would and walk as much of it was you can. You never know what hidden gems you might find along the way.

8. Time to make dinner plans – shall we dine in or eat out? One of the many joys of stay-cationing is that you can have dinner in your pajamas, while still treating yourself to holiday living. Sure, if you still have the energy and funds to eat out after touring around all day, by all means! Hit that trendy neighborhood you’ve been meaning to visit for ages — the [insert Ethnic cuisine here] food scene is supposed to be fantastic! However, if you’re exhausted from, for example, walking from East 59th Street to West 98th Street via Central Park, then you may want to round off your carefree day with a Netflix binge and some takeout. This is a great time to use one of the many coupon codes you see on the subway to get discounted delivery. And, hey, if it’s 20% off the food, it’s 20% off the calories, right? We concluded our day by ordering Delhi Masala on Yelp’s Eat24 app (awesome decision) and watching Bridget Jones’ Baby (horrible mistake, but better than Rosemary’s Baby and certainly superior to Million Dollar Baby).

Five Other Things To Do in New York City

1. Get that million dollar skyline shot from the Roosevelt Island tram. Grab the tram from E 59th Street and 2nd Ave to Roosevelt Island and back for panoramic views of Manhattan and Queens overlooking the East River. All it will cost you is one subway fare.
   

   That will be a million dollars, please.

2. Learn something new everyday. Take a free intro improv class from Magnet Theater. Learn how to contour your cheekbones with a free class at Sephora. Find a friend to take you along to one of the many interesting fitness classes that keeps this city so strong (sidebar: SoulCycle is an anthropologists dream). Use MeetUp to take Scottish country dancing lessons. If you want to learn, New York will teach you.
3. Experience the legendary Met Opera…for only $25. That’s right, while some people blow a fortune on tickets to the Metropolitan Opera, speedy clickers can score $25 rush tickets for day of performances. These are the unsold premium seats so you can really luck out!
4. Find your ancestors at the National Archives. Lose an afternoon delving through the National Archives’ free internet collections which are open to the public down by Wall Street.  Bonus, when you’re done learning that your great-great-grandmother was a gold-digging biggot, you’re already at the National Museum of the American Indian.
5. Pass on Little Italy in Manhattan and check out Little Italy in The Bronx. Centered around Arthur Avenue near Fordham, this neighborhood is bursting at the seams with Italian restaurants, markets, bakeries, and raw oyster street stalls! Better yet, this place isn’t mobbed by tourists like it’s counterpart downtown.
   

   Arancini and Sicilian polenta and chick pea fritters from Emilia’s on Arthur Ave

I hope our hard won tips serve you well. My only regret is that I learned so much too late. C’est la vie.

Let me know how you get on with stay-cationing, in New York and beyond!

-Sophie

The NYC Bucket List

Racing against time to finish our New York City bucket list, while reflecting on NY’s greatest hits.

 

Buckets of Joy

Now that we’re on the precipice of packing up our studio and hitting the road for several months, I want to make sure that we get the most out of our last weeks in the big apple before bidding it farewell.

As with most places I go, I start forming a checklist of things I want to do while I’m there, restaurants I want to sample, and sites I just have to visit. Eventually, after the gathering phase, that list is edited and codified into a checklist because I work in operations and I just can’t help myself. Now that it’s been over two years since moving to New York, I have dragged Brian through much of the list and no surprise — even now — I am still adding to it!

The Main Affair

Early on, we sought out the major attractions:

• Strolling the High Line
• Seeking the perfect Peking duck in a Chinatown window
• Hurrying through Times Square as quickly as humanly possible (hint, it’s all about the elbows)
• Crossing the Brooklyn Bridge (again, I recommend the liberal use of elbows)
• Buying beer solely for the free pizza at Alligator Lounge in Brooklyn
• Picnicking at the Cloisters
• Exploring every inch of Central Park

Post elbow-throwin’ our way into Brooklyn

Show Time

We’ve seen shows on Broadway, an old man rock concert, and an immersive “theatre experience” (to be pronounced in your flounciest accent) and very uncomfortable stand-up comedians. We’ve been to The Metropolitan Opera several times, we were speedy enough to nab the coveted rush tickets that afford luxury seats to plebs like us for the paltry price of $25. That’s right ladies and gentlemen. Once, we got very cheap tickets, I’m talking like $7, to a classical concert at Carnegie Hall. Turns out that they were so cheap because you had to sit through two hours of the Silicon Valley Children’s Choir before the professional performers began their performance at 10pm on a Tuesday. Lesson learned.

We’ve also experienced plenty of the unique weirdness that defines New York. I participated in a 6am yoga-sesh-turned-dance-party hosted by Daybreaker, complete with kombucha shots and dancing vegetables. Thanks to our pal April, we’ve seen not one, but THREE pop-up concerts in a bakery after hours (and other uncovential locations) (#sofarsounds). But, The Jazz Age Lawn Party on Governor’s Island is, hands down, the most fun thing we have done in New York. A summer’s day of art deco, gin cocktails, and swing dancing. What’s not to love about goofing around in a fedora and a tassel skirt?

The Food, the Bad, and the Ugly

If you’ve read our other posts, you won’t be surprised to learn that we’ve made a point of seeking out memorable culinary and cultural experiences during our time in the land of grub trends and haute cuisine. We’ve consumed our way through multiple Restaurant Weeks, Papaya King dogs of every topping combo, and Cronuts (#nuffsaid #fatties #proud).

Last spring, we found a dimly lit cocktail bar/speakeasy in the Lower East Side called Nite Owl, where we watched ‘artistes’ mixing what were surely potion ingredients out of small, mysteriously-colored bottles and glass vials to serve us frothy, gold-dusted beverages with mermaid stirring sticks and containing imported Bolivian liquor. What made this dark basement speakeasy even more fun was that when we tried to visit it again, it was moved and we had to rediscover it all over. Sneaky!

Brian’s favorite thing to consume in New York (or anywhere for that matter) is oysters at happy hour. The best oyster HH we’ve found is at The Mermaid Inn (UWS, Greenwich Village, and LES) which serves $1 oysters, inexpensive seafood appetizers like fish tacos and calamari, and half price beers and wines. Plus, their oysters are deliciously fresh, so you don’t end up feeling suspicious about the low price or the possible danger to your gut (for all you hypochondriacs out there). My favorite part of The Mermaid Inn is that the meal is always concluded with a small, complimentary pot of chocolate mousse (thanking you) and one of those red cellophane fish “fortune tellers” you place on your palm. Depending on the way it curls, it predicts you what mood you are in and apparently “passion” is a common mood.

Secret Life of a Hangry Couple

We’ve found the all best bites in New York, so you don’t have to. Sure, these opinions may be controversial, but it’s our blog so we get to make the rules.

Our smoked meat party at Fette Sau

• Best Bagel: Absolute Bagel, Broadway near Columbia, Manhattan (warning: cash only, if you even know what cash is)
• Best Burger: Saxon + Parole, Bowery, Manhattan (don’t forget to order with the bone marrow béarnaise) (Brian is salivating reading this)
• Best Cannoli: Madonia Bakery, Arthur Ave, The Bronx (I am salivating reading this)
• Best Coffee: Astor Row Cafe, Lenox Ave in Harlem, Manhattan
• Best Doughnut: Donut Pub, 14th Street, Manhattan
• Best Draft Beer Selection: West End Hall, Broadway near Columbia, Manhattan
• Best International Cuisine Area: K-Town (Koreatown), between Broadway & 5th Ave, Midtown Manhattan (extra special experience when they cut your food with bloody scissors)
• Best Ice Cream: Emack & Bolio’s, Amsterdam Ave, Manhattan, near the Natural History Museum
• Best Meat Sweats: Fette Sau, Metropolitan Ave, Brooklyn
• Best Pizza: Pete’s Pizzeria, 3rd Ave in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn (with a heaping side of old school Brooklyn accents)
• Best Sandwich: Katz’s Delicatessen, Houston St, Manhattan
• Best Soul Food: Streetbird, 116th St in Harlem, Manhattan (purely because of the cornbread with chicken butter)
• Best Vegetarian: Vatan, 3rd Ave in Murray Hill, Manhattan (all-you-can-eat Indian, complete with plaster monkeys dangling overhead)
• Best Wine Bar: The Owl’s Head, 74th St in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn

Katz’s pastrami makes for an unforgettable sandwich

Going Down the List

So, what’s outstanding on our list? Food wise:

• DŌ – Cookie dough. In a bowl. With a spoon. Need I say more?
• Greek food in Astoria
• Galaxy Dumplings in Flushing
• Artichoke Pizza, of drunken fame, in the Lower East Side
• Dinosaur BBQ
• Dominique Ansel – Given that the Cronut blew my mind, I want to try frozen s’mores and the legendary DKA.
• More African cuisines in Harlem, maybe even try Senegalese this time (the Ethiopian food at Abyssinia was lick-the-plate-clean good, which is saying something since you literally eat your injera plate).
• So many absurdly fancy restaurants that I can’t afford

Meat and vegetable combo platter at Abyssinia

Beyond food (if there even is such a world) I’d like to:

• Explore Roosevelt Park
• Visit Coney Island (but there’s no way in hell I’m getting on those rickety old rides)
• See the United Nations building (ridiculous that I haven’t seen it yet, given my interests in international policy and development…oops)
• Win the Hamilton lottery, but alas, I live in reality
• Play hooky to see a TV show taping
• Watch the ballet at Lincoln Center
• Rent a kayak in Red Hook, Brooklyn

Despite the obvious limitations of time, money, and patience for other humans, we are now hustling through the remainder of our list, as our remaining days dwindle. There’s no way to do it all, but we’ve made a good attempt. If nothing else, we’ve had the opportunity to live in New York City and, hey, that’s pretty cool I think.

Adios, New York!

What would be on YOUR New York bucket list? Anything we’re missing? Let us know before we leave! Please share thoughts in the comments section below.

-Sophie