GotHairyCrabs?

Shanghai: (Day 0) Switching on the China

2010-10-03T04:58:00.000-07:00

We're not even there yet and I'm already feeling it... the crowdedness, the pushiness, the lack of personal space. Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, the dude sitting behind me is jiggling my chair with his foot on my armrest. All the while, the ladies congregating in the tight exit row space in front of me are doing their best Flashdance impression. Well... they're actually just stretching, but it kinda looks more like a half-hearted attempt at reenacting the Maniac video. Pretty amusing, but not when it's two inches from your face. The best part is, when the wifey and I get up to stretch, the lady sitting next to us suddenly takes the liberty of laying across all our seats. She's even using the wifey's pillow, and I'm almost positive she's gonna snake my headphones too! Awesome. Even in Economy Plus, we're surrounded by fellow yellows all up in our grill like we're in some perpetual Chinatown waiting room. I guess I'd better get reacquainted with that feeling and flip that internal switch into "China" mode.

Picture of the Day
We're So There!

Chicago: (Day 4) Hot Diggity Dog

2010-04-14T23:13:00.000-07:00

We can't possibly, in all good conscience, leave Chicago without paying one last visit to Portillo's for another hot dog... or two. Or three. And a half. Oh come now... how can we resist that melted cheese, those freshly chopped onions, that chunky chili... all slathered on top of a thick and juicy wiener. Alright, that sounded dirty. But it's really all about their dogs... bite into one and you can taste that ever-elusive "snap" that you won't find in an Oscar Meyer wiener. Or should I say "slap" as in this wiener's so good, it'll make you wanna slap yo momma with it. Yum. Ok, so... 1.5 to eat here. One for the plane ride. One for home. Now that's one sausage fest I can live with.

Random Stuff:

Our first visit to Portillo's in 2008.

Picture of the Day
This was on a McD's garbage can. It apparently says 'Thank You' in a foreign language. What did you think it was??

Chicago: (Day 3) Tiffany and Frango at Marshall's Walnut

2010-04-13T02:21:00.000-07:00

The wifey is standing about 100 feet away from me and she's whispering sweet nothings into the air. Amazingly, I can hear every word she's saying... although she sounds an awful lot like that Verizon guy. Can you hear me now? Can you hear me now? Luckily for me, she's a lot cuter. Anyway, we're having this long distance conversation underneath the beautifully designed Tiffany ceiling at the Macy's on State Street. Completed in 1907, the ceiling consists of about 1.6 million little pieces of glass and is the largest one Mr. Tiffany ever built. Hmm, try having this thing appraised at the Antiques Road Show. And, it is so acoustically in tuned that I can hear the wifey's ramblings from clear across the building. Who needs AT&T when you got this thing?

Anyhoo, what we're really here for is the Frango. You know, those decadent chocolate mints that come in the green box that they sell down in the Cellar at Macy's? Well, it all started here back in the day when this store used to be called Marshall Field's. There's even an old chocolate conveyor belt on display that looks like something straight out of an I Love Lucy episode. But as delectable as the little mints are, we're actually seeking something even better: the Frango ice cream pie -- Frango chocolate mint ice cream topped with golden nougat in a rich graham cracker crust. Mmmm. Kill me now and I would die happily. We've been craving this since the last time we were in Chicago, and we're sure to crave it again the next time we're here...

...which really isn't too far in the near future since we find ourselves back for dinner. This time, in the Walnut Room, an elegant restaurant tucked away on the 7th floor of the department store. To dine here is to be thrown back a hundred years to the past, where the wood paneled walls [made of walnut, I presume] and the tuxedo-clad waiters take you back to a more civilized era. The chicken pot pie has been on the menu since 1907, and although the Frango ice cream pie is fiddy cents more here than at the cafe, the extra dollop of whipped cream and that sprig of mint they put on top of it makes it all worthwhile... and it definitely satisfies our cravings. Mr. Marshall Field's motto was "Give the lady what she wants" and since this could technically be considered a girls trip, all I can do in response is bat my eyelashes and say, "Give it to me baby!"

Random Stuff:

Tiffany is big here. The Chicago Cultural Center has the largest Tiffany dome in the world. A cellist happened to be giving a concert while we were there. Purty. The dome, that is.

Picture of the Day
Chicago Cultural Center

Chicago: (Day 2) Ducks to a Pond

2010-04-12T23:40:00.000-07:00

Hands down, the Field Museum of Natural History in Chicago has the best stuffed animal collection ever... and I don't mean the cutesy Hello Kitty kind either. No, the ones I'm referring to are the hunted, killed, stuffed, and put-on-display taxidermy kind that would eat you if they were still alive... kinda like what they used to have at the old Academy of Sciences before they screwed it up. I swear there must be one of every known mammal that ever existed here... from man-eating lions to the smallest hummingbirds. I know, it's kinda morbid and inhumane, but the educational value is undeniable, especially when today is Target free day at the museum! Yay, we heart Tar-zhay!

Anyhoo, today we bid adieu to the lovely ladies, and say 'ni hao' to another set of ladies on our way to Chicago's Chinatown. The wifey and I are on the Red Line train, but we really have no clue as to where the hell this Chinatown is... so, I figure we'd kinda just wing it when we get there. To our luck, scurrying along past us comes a couple of old Chinese ladies toting plastic bags full of groceries. Now, try to imagine your mom going mai sung [grocery shopping] with her buddy. Hmm, where would they be heading? Chinatown, of course! Tail them! It'll be like following a couple of ducks to the pond... or in this case, a couple of ah-moos to tong yun fau. I dunno what is it about my desire to go to every C-town in every city we visit. Maybe I just have a thing for big gaudy gates. Though, the gate here isn't very elaborate. The Chi-town Chi(na)-town only runs like 5 blocks down Wentworth Street and consists of mostly restaurants, boba tea shops, knick-knack stores, and a few markets. Wait, I think I just described every Chinatown in the world. It's kinda dreary here actually, but I'm strangely drawn to it. Maybe deep down inside, I'm really the duck forever waddling to that pond called Chinatown. To it's credit though, I've yet to see anyone hock a loogie.

I wonder how the milk tea is here.

Random Stuff:

Stopping at Garrett Popcorn for some greasy popcorn. You can smell that buttery aroma a block away, but it just kinda tastes like warmed Cracker Jacks... without the toy.
The Chicago Tribune Tower has actual pieces of famous monuments from around the world (the Great Wall, the Taj Mahal, etc.) attached to its exterior walls. A cool collection, but isn't it vandalism to take chunks from all those landmarks?
The Field Museum also has Sue, the world's largest and most complete T. Rex fossil.
Housekeeping throws away Cindy's shoebox.

Picture of the Day
Water Buffaloes

Chicago: (Day 1) The Church of Oprah

2010-04-11T23:16:00.000-07:00

It's Sunday morning and I'm standing in a long line of chicks in front of Harpo Studios. There are some guys around, but the dude-to-chick ratio is definitely low. Normally, this would be ok... if we were at a club. But with everyone dressed up the way they are, it feels more like we're going to church... the Church of Oprah. Which may not be such a bad thing, since it's gonna take some divine intervention for me to get in.

Thanks to Cindy, the Ladies are all on the standby list [another FoC--or Friend of Cindy--benefit]. But unfortunately, her kung-fu powers aren't enough to get me on that list, so I stand behind them hoping I can "me too" my way in. As the heavy-set security lady is checking off their names, she comes up to me and says flatly, "You're not on the list." Then scribbles something on her notes, and walks away. Damn. I'm screwed. No new car for me. Oh well. It was worth a try. At least it's not a total loss, since I get to befriend others who also weren't on the list... including a nice elderly lady from Louisiana and a cute old couple from South Carolina who've been waiting in line since 5:30am. Nice people, indeed. Let's just say before this day is out, I end up hugging and joining hands and praisin' the lord with all of them. Don't ask me why. Must be the Oprah effect.

The Ladies are far ahead of me now, and as the line starts to dwindle, so do my hopes of getting in. Then, suddenly, one of Oprah's assistants approaches me and says, "You must be the 'Dude'" Umm, yeah? "We'll try to get you in." No way. Apparently, the security lady had written "+Dude" on her list next to the Ladies' names. I'm so in! It's a miracle! The big O must be looking down upon me. In fact, all my elderly friends in the back of the line get in too. [insert hugging and lord praising here].

Security is tight as hell at the gate--much worse than at any airport--and I'm like the absolute last person to get into the studio. There's a strange feeling in the air... like some sorta estrogen-induced Oprah high. Everyone in the audience is giddy, especially Consuela whose visit here today is pretty much on the top of her bucket list. It's not long before Oprah makes her appearance and glides onto the stage like a winged angel flanked on both sides by her cherub-like assistants, who then kneel before her placing on her feet a new pair of Louboutins. I suddenly feel lifted on my feet, my hands in the air applauding and jumping up and down like a hysterical little girl. I might as well be shouting "Hallelujah! It's Oprah! Hallelujah!" Hey, at least I'm not crying like some of these girls here are.

She does command quite a stage presence though, and it's kinda neat to actually see her in person cuz she looks pretty much the same as she does on TV. So today's topic is "Make Over Your Man"... which I guess is sort of a dude-related subject. However, on stage is Oprah, Tim Gunn from Project Runway, and Carson Kressley from Queer Eye... and it cannot get any more gay and fabulous than this. I realize that just being here might constitute an act of gayness in itself, but hey, it's all good... it's Oprah... and there might be prizes to be had! But alas, there would be no new car for me. Instead of "You get a car! You get a car! You get a car!" it's more like "You get a book! You get a book! You get a book!" We all get a book about dating men. Awesome. Just what I need. Oh well... I guess I didn't have to make space in my garage afterall.

Anyway, donations to the Church of Oprah can be made across the street at the Oprah Store, where Oprah comes out a little richer and you a little poorer. The Ladies buy all kinds of paraphernalia, including Oprah clothes, Oprah housewares, Oprah knick knacks. Cindy even buys a dress that Oprah has actually worn [all proceeds go to charity, but still]. It's no wonder the Big O's a billionaire.

Only Oprah could drag us out of bed so early on a Sunday morning. Only Oprah could bring so much kindness to people who've been waiting in line for hours. Only Oprah could get me to hug a random stranger. Only Oprah could get Cindy to drop two hundred and fitty big ones on a used dress. From this, I can only come to one simple conclusion... that Oprah Winfrey is pretty much Jesus in a dress.

Random Stuff:

Susie asks, "Who's Nate Berkus?" I think she should've been at the back of the line instead of me.
Kudos to Cin for getting us the "in" on Oprah. I dunno how she does it, but I guess they don't call her "Luscious" for nothing...hmmm.
This episode airs May 5, 2010.
Chicago in a day... hanging out in Millenium Park, Cloud Gate, and Buckingham Fountain [the Married With Children Fountain]; shopping at Macy's and the Magnificent Mile; eating at the world's largest McD's, hot dogs at Portillo's, and Gino's East for deep dish pizza. Oh, and Oprah! Whew!

Picture of the Day
Posing With the Bean

Chicago: (Day 0) Girls Trip!

2010-04-10T22:21:00.000-07:00

I dunno if this is officially considered a girls trip per se, but I am travelling with 4 chicks. To Chicago. To see Oprah Winfrey. I guess it can't really get anymore girly than that. Let's just say the estrogen levels in the air are definitely higher than normal. But hey, I hang out with these lovely ladies often enough that I'm an honorary member of the girl's club. Anyway, who wants to be in a sausage fest when there's a chance to meet Oprah?!? Whatever, think what you will of me. We'll compare penis sizes after she gives everyone in the audience a new car, biatch. Ok, maybe not. Girls trip or not, I'm hella mooching in on this one!

Random Stuff:

The four lovely ladies: the wifey, our dear friends Cindy, Susie, and Consuela.
While checking in at SFO, the AA agent asks if Consuela is "of age" to sit in the exit row. Really? Does she look younger than 16? Or maybe older than 81.

New York City: (Day 4) Meet Me at the Other Met

2010-03-30T01:39:00.000-07:00

I just got out of the shower... or at least it kinda feels that way. We're standing in a long line inside the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and outside, it's pouring rain. The six-block, umbrella-less walk from the subway station to the Met has got me drenched from head to toe. I might as well have stepped right into a running shower. All I need is some shampoo and conditioner, and I can lather up my hair like the girl in those Herbal Essences commercials. I guess I really could've avoided this dousing by purchasing an umbrella from the guy on the corner, but my cheap-Chinese upbringing prevents me from paying $10 for a crappy umbrella I could buy for $2.50 at the 98-cent store on Mott Street. At least I've got my jeans and Converses on. Wait, that's not a good thing is it? Ugh, wet jeans and soaked shoes. Awesome.

Anyhoo, why are we here on such a miserable rainy day? All in the name of education and enlightenment, of course. For her Spring Break homework assignment, the niece is supposed to visit and write a report on a museum... so what better place to peruse works of art than at the Metropolitan Museum of Art? Besides, it's a great way to get out of the rain. Too bad everyone else and their mammas in NYC has got the same brilliant idea. So here we are standing in line... a growing puddle forming below me; my wet shoes squeaking along the dry linoleum floor; a trail of water following me as we approach the ticket counter...

Me: 2 adults and one student, please.
Ticket Agent: That'll be $50.
Me: Can I pay $25?
Ticket Agent: Sure.
Me: Cooool

I've always heard a myth that the posted admission price was merely a suggested donation, and that if you really wanted to, you could pay whatever you want to get in. Consider this myth: confirmed! I have no shame... you can pay what you want to get in! Or maybe the ticket agent just felt sorry for the drenched skinny Asian dude. Whatever the reason, we're so in!

The wifey and I haven't been back here in almost a decade. Walking through all the different halls and seeing some quite magnificent exhibits brings back fond memories and makes me almost forget about the crazy crowd. Almost. There's so much to see here, maybe too much... everything from Egyptian artifacts to medieval masterpieces to an actual Dyson vacuum cleaner are all on display. The niece is wow'ed by the Temple of Dendur (built 15 B.C.) that's beautifully on display in the Sackler Wing; t he wifey is mesmerized by Pygmalion and Galatea, a 19th century oil painting by Jean-Léon Gérôme; and I'm getting yelled at by the museum police for taking pictures of some special exhibit that I don't even know the name of. C'mon, give a wet Chinese guy a break. All I know is, the niece better be getting an A+ on this report.

Today's Snackies:

Mandoo Bar. Midtown West, Koreatown. I know, from it's name, the place sounds more like a gay strip club than a Korean dumpling house. On a lunch break from the Met, we take a 100-block detour to chow down on some yummy kim chee mandoo, pork mandoo, and bibimbop. It's almost worth the trip just to checkout the old Korean cougars making the dumplings at the window.
Ippudo. East Village. Ok, I'd have to say the ramen is pretty good here. Although, having recently returned from Japan, I'm a bit spoiled. The place is ultra-hip, club-like, loud, and a bit Asian-fusiony. And by Asian-fusiony, I mean paying $15 for modestly sized servings in a fancy bowl. We have the Aka Maru Modern and the Kamo Nanban Shoyu. Don't forget to add the Kakuni [fatty pork] and the Hirata Buns. Yum. Worth the 90 minute wait on a Tuesday night? If you can't make it to Tokyo tonight, then I guess. I'm spoiled.

Pictures of the Day
Macy's Flower Show

Step Aside!

New York City: (Day 3) Meet Me at the Met

2010-03-29T11:13:00.000-07:00

As we're admiring the Rose Reading Room at the New York Public Library, I gleefully lean over to the niece and say, "This is where they filmed that awesome opening scene in 'Ghostbusters'... remember that?"

"Umm, no." she says with a polite half smile.

She might as well have said, "No, I don't remember cuz I'm not ancient, you old geezer. And what the hell is a Ghostbuster??" Wow. Am I that old? This must be how our parents felt when they talked about having no electricity and plowing the village fields on a water buffalo. Have I become them? How depressing. Ahh, pesky kids. Ugh, off to H&M so I can feel young again.

Anyhoo, today we're going on a behind-the-scenes tour of the New York Metropolitan Opera House. And speaking of oldies, our 15-member tour group must be, to my best estimate, a combined age of about eighteen hundred fifty years old. Ok, maybe I exaggerate... but definitely over a millennium, easy. Much older than, say, the period settings for La Boheme or La Traviata... which, btw, the set for the 2nd act of the latter is being assembled onstage as we speak. It's quite amazing to see the crazy stage production going on behind the curtain: an orderly chaos of 180 stagehands working together building 3-story tall sets with 3000 lights on 5 rotating stages. It's crazy, but somehow it all works.

As the tour continues, we and our band of merry little oldies make our way down to the storage room, where ridiculously big ass pieces of scenery... like the bull ring from Carmen and a 30-foot Egyptian column from Aida... lay waiting for their turns on stage. All kinds of props are strewn everywhere, and the place is pretty much a huge mess... kinda like the niece's bedroom, but cleaner. Which all leads me to wonder, how in the world would anyone find anything here? But I guess if the niece can accurately pinpoint a dirty sock in her cluttered closet, then I guess they can manage here. Ya think?

Side note: if there's one thing you count on in life, it's oldies needing the bathroom. As the wifey always says to me, "Only you and my grandma need to go every 2 minutes." Thank god for the oldies cuz we take a much needed bathroom break. Ahhh...

As we're winding through this labyrinth of backstage corridors, it's neat to hear all the random singing and rehearsing going on. Take a few steps and we're in the workshop, where all the painting, carpentry, and metalwork happens. Take a few more steps and we're in wardrobe. Elaborate costumes are hanging on racks while an army of seamstresses are sewing, measuring, and cutting from countless rolls of fabric as if they were at a sample sale at Britex. Try to imagine your middle school shop class crossed with your Chinese mom's sweatshop with all the ah-moo's hitting a falsetto. Yeah, it's a pretty trippy scene... all without the use of drugs. Woo hoo!

Yes, everything here is quite the production. After all, the Met is the largest opera house in the world... with 72-ft high gold plated ceilings, great acoustics, beautiful Swarovski chandeliers, an elegant red velvet motif, and five tiers of seating. Sitting smack dab in the middle of the auditorium, I'm humbled by the grandeur of the place. Sitting smack dab in the middle of the auditorium with a bunch of oldies, I'm sure as hell glad we took a bathroom break.

Random Stuff:

Pancakes for dinner? Yes! Especially if they're from the Clinton Street Baking Co. in the Lower East Side. Their blueberry pankcakes never disappoint. The wifey can have them for breakfast, lunch, dinner, or all three!
9 rides today on the subway with our 7-day unlimited pass. Totally worth!
Ending the night with some shopping at UNIQLO in Soho. The niece is exhausted. Yeah, baby... who's looking like the oldie now??

Picture of the Day
Subway

New York City: (Day 2) How to Keep a Teenager Happy

2010-03-28T21:59:00.000-07:00

How do you keep a teenager happy? Feed it pizza and take it shopping.

Heck, that would keep me pretty happy too, especially if it's a Tartufo pizza from Numero 28 in Greenwich Village. I've written about this place before, and each time we go back is a reminder of why we keep going back. Thirty-three inches of truffle oil and mushroomy goodness on a thin, crispy crust. This sucker is huge, but we devour it like a trio of old Chinese ladies at a canned food giveaway in Chinatown. Yum. All the niece can muster at the end of lunch is a nice, subtle "burp."

Fortunately, we get to walk off our meal with a stroll through the Village, checking out all the cool little shops and the Sunday artisan fair along Christopher Street. That's one of the great things about NYC--randomly running into one of these street fairs where they sell everything from roasted corn on the cob to kitschy t-shirts to handmade wares. Being the consummate teenager that she is, the niece decides to buy this crazy red yarn hat thingy that kinda looks something like a mohawk on fire. Couple that with a stylish poncho we bought her from H&M yesterday and she's got that South American mountain alpaca look down pat. Hand her a flute and I think she'll fit right in with the street performers down at the 42nd Street station. Ahh, to be a quirky teenager. I don't understand it... I must be getting old. I guess I should be glad she opts out of buying that big doughnut necklace she saw at Hottie, or that plastic purse shaped like a chicken from Pylonnes... else, she would've gotten that crazy bag lady look down pat. Then we'd really be in trouble.

Whatever the look she's going for, she's walking towards Soho with her fire-hat/poncho outfit and out of the blue blurts out, "I'm so happy..." For a 15-year-old going through the usual teenage girl angst, this speaks volumes. Which, unbeknownst to her, totally makes our day as the wifey is near-blubbering at this point... and I would've gladly bought her that plastic chicken purse.

Random Stuff:

Dinner at Yakatori Taisho. Hole in the wall. Grilled stuff on sticks drenched in Teriyaki sauce. Can't go wrong. Avacado salad and spicy tuna. To die for.
Sitting in Times Square at night with the niece, taking in all the bright lights, loud noises, and funky smells. She's loving it, and so are we.
The niece gets her first taste of NY subway drama... being stuck in subway "traffic" for half an hour and homeless guy spitting up blood at the 4th Street station. Unfazed, she enjoys taking the subway. Either she's being a good sport or she's sick in the head. Could go either way.

Picture of the Day
Zero G at Times Square

New York City: (Day 1) Spring Break!

2010-03-27T21:55:00.001-07:00

Ahh, it's good to be back in the hometown... that burnt smell of roasted peanuts coming from the street vendors, the distinct sound of the rumbling subway, that feeling of almost getting plowed over by a yellow cab. It's definitely nice to be back.

We're showing our niece around the Big Apple for her Spring break, though the 30-degree chill of the weather makes it feel more like Winter break than Spring. It's her first time here, and I think she's pretty wowed by the craziness of the big, big city--the hustle and bustle, the bright lights, the tall buildings, and the plethora of shopping. Witnessing her reaction at Times Square for the first time is priceless. It's refreshing to see such wide-eyed innocence coming from a teenager... though I'm trying to steer her clear away from that Naked Cowboy character.

Peculiarly (or maybe I just never paid much attention before), there are a whole lotta other characters lurking around Times Square. Spiderman, Spongebob, Dora, Mickey and Minnie Mouse... you'd think we're on Hollywood Blvd or something. Sheesh. So far, I've counted 4 Elmo's and 3 Cookie Monsters -- 2 of which look kinda raggedy and another who probably ate one too many cookies. But kids are all over them... which kinda gets me to thinking: what if there's some creepy guy under there? Hmmph. Food for thought. But hey, throw on a fuzzy costume and parents will pay to fling their kids at you. It's ok though, this is probably the only place where you can tell Mickey and Minnie to go blow it and it's all perfectly normal. Good thing the niece isn't a five-year-old anymore. Earmuffs, earmuffs.

Today's Snackies:

Sapporo. Theater District. This joint serves up your typical Japanese ramen fare, complete with Japanese speaking waitresses and Mexicans in the back making your bowl of noodles. It's as good as any place back home, but the butter corn miso ramen hits the spot after a long day of walking.
Noodle Village. Chinatown. I really like this place. While all the gwai lo's are lining up for the underground hole-in-the-wall next door, I'm inhaling some pretty grubbin' ngow nam wun tun lo cho mein [beef stew won ton with thick noodles] here. The milk tea is the best I've had since leaving HK... and I do love me my milk tea. Chinese comfort food. Yum.

Random Stuff:

The wifey and the niece manage to blow up a light bulb in the hotel room, kill the niece's ipod, and successfully clog up the toilet... all in one night. Geez, can't take these guys anywhere.

Picture of the Day
Ghostly Steps at the Apple Store

Yosemite: (Day 3) Wet Socks

2010-02-19T12:50:00.000-08:00

There's a sign in front of the massive 8-foot tall fireplace in the Great Lounge that reads, "No Drying Of Shoes, Socks Or Clothing." I'm thinking... "Dang, that's pretty ghetto. Who the heck would do that? What are we... in Chinatown? Pssht, crazy Ahwahnee Hotel." Whatever. I'm off to do our hike. Woo hoo!

And not 10 minutes into our little adventure...

My socks are wet. We're on a trail to Mirror Lake and I just took a spill crossing a mini river. This is supposed to be an easy hike. The trail winds through two miles of wilderness as we trek past water, snow, rocks, and bear poop... all the while, huge granite monoliths tower over us. Easy hike, my foot! Or I should say, my wet foot, now that the cold mountain spring water has thoroughly seeped through my socks. This hike is taking longer than expected, especially for Mr. Garcia who's got Godson#2 strapped to his back the whole time. We almost turn back, but we persevere, and we're finally rewarded with stunning views of the aptly named Mirror Lake, where the water is so clear and placid that a near perfect reflection of Half Dome can been seen on the lake surface. Too bad our time there is characterised by chucking stuff into the lake trying to break the thin surface ice while only spending like 5% of the time admiring why the lake is named Mirror Lake. I dunno... don't ask me why we do the things we do. I just wanna get back to the hotel and dry my socks by the fireplace.

So anyhoo, this is actually our first time visiting Yosemite [at least for me and the wifey], so I guess that makes us Yosemite virgins. First impressions? Lots of trees, waterfalls, and big-ass rocks. In other words, it's spectacular. Standing at the base of El Capitan looking up at this huuge mountain of rock, I can't help but feel like a tiny speck in a valley of giants. Venturing up to the famous Tunnel View outlook, we take in the absolutely breathtaking scenery. From here, you can see it all... Half Dome, El Capitan, Cathedral Rocks, Sentinel Dome, Bridalveil Falls. We've all seen photos of this place, but pictures do not... cannot... do it justice. From the towering granite cliffs to the giant sequoias to the endless waterfalls, Yosemite's natural wonders are, in a word, magnificent. All of which leads me to wonder... why it's taken us so long to get here.

Random Stuff:

There's nothing quite like a snowball fight in the morning. Consuela aims for the 'nads. Not cool.
I find a $1 bill in the snow! And I didn't even have to dance for it! Woo hoo!
Yosemite Falls is the tallest waterfall in North America and 7th in the world at 2,425 ft. Woo hoo!
Mental Note: take Hwy 140 instead of Hwy 120.

Picture of the Day
The Ahwahnee. So Purty!

Yosemite: (Day 2) The Ahwahnee

2010-02-18T02:10:00.000-08:00

A few days ago, the wifey calls The Ahwahnee Hotel to ask if we needed chains for our tires on the way up to the hotel. The conversation went something like this:

The wifey: Do we need chains for the drive up?
The Ahwahnee: Water freezes at 32-degrees. It's 61-degrees.
The wifey: So... do we need chains for the drive up?

I hope they sensed the sarcasm in her voice, but I guess she could've done without the science lesson from the front desk. It is rather warm for this time of year... sunny, 60-degree temperatures, and the weather couldn't be any nicer. Thank you, global warming!

So as we're checking into the hotel, I can't help but think "Ahwahnee" must mean "expensive ass" in some Native American language. Walking through the Great Lounge, you can't help but feel the full grandeur of the place, with its enormous fireplace, high ceilings, and candlelit chandeliers. It is very grand... in that woodsy, lodgy kinda way. This is the kind of place I'd imagine coming back to after a long day of hunting, dropping off the deer carcass by the gigantic fireplace, and smoking a cigar in the Great Lounge while bragging about my antler collection. Fortunately, we live in a more civilized time and the only dead animals we see are the ones on our plates as we're chowing down in the Grand Dining Room. With it's 34-foot-high pinewood beamed ceiling, rustic chandeliers, and floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows, the hall is reminiscent of something out of a Harry Potter movie. The guest rooms, though, leave something to be desired being a bit antiquated... but the awesome view of Yosemite Falls from Consuela and Bikter's room more than makes up for it.

Speaking of Bikter, for some curious reason, the front desk clerk asks him, "Are you Mr. Garcia?" Haha... Mr. Garcia?? Really?!? I dunno... I mean, he is a little on the darker shade of yellow, but I never really took Bikter as a Mr. Garcia. But, hey, since The Ahwahnee wants to give him a new name, who am I to object? Mr. Garcia it is! Besides, Mr. Garcia goes better with Consuela anyway. And since we're on the subject of the Garcias, during dinner, Godson#2 has literally got the whole restaurant mesmerized with his waving and dancing. This kid's a total ham flirting with all the ladies in the room. He goes from table to table making his rounds doing his little wavy dance... and the crowd's lovin' it! It's like dinner and a show. All we need to do is hang a tip jar around his neck and we'll put the piano player outta business.

Random Stuff:

Opened in 1928, the Ahwahnee Hotel is the only man-made historical landmark in the park and has housed the rich and famous from the likes of Queen Elizabeth II to the great William Shatner.
There was a mix up with one of our rooms at the hotel, so you'd think with the Ritz-Carlton prices they're charging, you'd get Ritz-Carlton type customer service. Nope. But to their credit, they do offer us some comps... after a bit of complaining. Bad, Ahwahnee. Bad.
Quote of the day: "Dudes and children first!" as Mr. Garcia, Godson#2, and I jump into the shelter of the car as a passing bus kicks up a dust storm while the wifey and Consuela are left outside to fend for themselves. Who says chivalry is dead? They might. Oops.

Picture of the Day
Gettin' Some Fresh Mountain Air

Merced: (Day 1) The Gateway to Yosemite

2010-02-17T23:54:00.001-08:00

With a name like Big Bubba's Bad to the Bone BBQ, this place has gotta be good. I figure anytime you stick "Bubba" in the name of a barbecue joint, it's usually a pretty good sign. Plus, the bull riding machine sitting in the corner of the dining room kinda adds to the ambiance of the place... though whether in a good or bad way, I'm not quite sure yet. A part of me can't wait to dig into them BBQ baby back ribs. Another part of me is nervously asking what kinda honky-tonk place we just walked into.

We're here in the great Central Valley city of Merced, California... a stopover on our way to Yosemite National Park. Hey, this city's got it all; its very own UC, a Walmart, a pawnshop, and even a Carrows. What else would anyone need?? Along for the drag are Godson#2 and his parents (and our good friends), Consuela and Bikter. Note: names have been slightly altered to protect the somewhat innocent. I mean, c'mon, we don't seriously know anyone named Consuela and Bikter, but I think I'm starting to like these monikers better than their real ones.

So as the butterflies in my stomach give way to the hunger pangs, I'm actually quite enjoying the grub at this restaurant. In fact, it's pretty damn good. So good that afterwards I need to go back to the hotel to just sit there and rub my belly for awhile... oh, that and the unfortunate fact that Godson#2 just filled his diaper with a happy pooperific surprise... of which, he manages to smear on the wifey's face. Surprise, Godmom! Yum. It's a good thing we have adjoining rooms cuz I'd hate to have to be in their bathroom right about now. Though Consuela's insistence to us of "when the connecting door's a-rockin', don't come a-knockin'" is a little disturbing. That just sounds dirty in a whole different way. Ew.

Random Stuff:

Godson#2 is playing deliriously happy at Walmart... kinda like the adults.
Dinner at Carrows... cuz they care!

Picture of the Day
I Smell Bacon

Orlando (Day 10): Magic Kingdom Math

2010-02-09T18:59:00.000-08:00

"We all use math every day;
to predict weather, to tell time, to handle money.
Math is more than formulas or equations;
it's logic, it's rationality,
it's using your mind to solve the biggest mysteries we know." -- Numb3rs

I think I found it. I found the formula to unlock the secrets of the universe. Ok, maybe not... but we did come up with a simple mathematical equation to crack the code to Disney World happiness. We are, after all, Asian... and being a mathlete is in our blood. So here it is:

[Disney World] + [off season] - [kids] = The Happiest Place on Earth

And as with any good mathematical theorem, here's the proof:

let any variable = the number of times we ride on any given ride
let a=1, b=2, c=3
[every ride in the park] x [a] = [happy]
[Pirates of the Caribbean] x [b] = [happy]
[Haunted Mansion] x [b] = [happy]
[Peter Pan's Flight] x [c] = [happy]
[Buzz Lightyear's Space Ranger Spin] x [c] = [happy]
[Big Thunder Mountain Railroad] x [c] = [happy]
[Pineapple Dole Whips] x [b] = [happy]
[Fast passes] = moot
if ∑ [happy] ≥ 5, then Happiest Place on Earth achieved

The Dole whips alone are enough to keep the wifey happy. But how else can you explain being able to ride Peter Pan's Flight, The Haunted Mansion, The Magic Carpets of Aladdin, Pirates of the Caribbean, Tomorrowland Speedway, Buzz Lightyear's Space Ranger Spin, and "it's a small world" all before noon? Or how we get on Big Thunder Mountain Railroad three times in a row without having to wait in line? [(off season) - (kids)], that's how. Shoot, the pace is so leisurely that we even ride the Carousel of Progress just to kill some time.

Yeah, yeah, I know... Disney's all about the kids. It's about the excitement of bringing your kids here for the first time. It's about the magical looks on the kids' faces when they see Mickey. It's about... blah, blah, blah. That's all fine and dandy, but c'mon now. Have you ever seen the "magical" looks on the parents' faces? Half of them look like the Evil Queen if she had to babysit the Seven Dwarfs. The other half look kinda like the Beast about to rip Mrs. Pott's spout off. Now that would be pretty magical.

Anyhoo, the wifey's always been a Disney-phile, so in a sense, I am bringing a wide-eyed kid along. Even the pouring rain couldn't put a damper on her day. So who am I to deny the wifey when she wants to take a ride on Space Mountain? Great. Space Mountain. Flashback: 26 years ago... I'm 11 years old. Mom, Grandma ah-paw, cousins, and big-shot uncle are in line for Space Mountain at Disneyland. As we get closer, it gets darker and louder. We hear screams. Big-shot uncle bolts for the chicken exit. I freak. I bolt with him. 70-year old Grandma ah-paw rides Space Mountain. Back to present day: I'm eyeing that chicken exit again. No, this time, I'm conquering my childhood fears and facing this monster head on. If my Granny can do it, so can I, dammit! No fear! That doesn't mean I can't hysterically scream like a little girl throughout the whole ride. But, I emerge pretty much unscathed like a brave manly man. A plucky hero. [Sigh] The things I do for my wife. Somebody hold me.

So yeah, by 6pm, the Magic Kingdom is pretty much a ghost town... which means we don't have to mow over any kids to get a picture with Mickey and Minnie in Toontown. Or rather, we don't have to get mowed over by any kids to get a picture with Mickey and Minnie in Toontown. I can't deny that this place isn't truly magical. I mean where else does Snow White's Scary Adventure always have a happy ending? Where else can you look in wonder at a spectacular fireworks show with Cinderella's castle as a backdrop? Where else can the kid in you always come out to play? Friggin Disney World. Maybe I ought to modify our formula:

[Disney World] + [off season] + [the kid in you] = The Happiest Place on Earth

Picture of the Day
Fireworks Over Cinderella's Castle

Cape Canaveral (Day 9.5): Crash

2010-02-08T23:36:00.000-08:00

You know, for every pretend rocket launch I've ever imagined as a child... for every "3, 2, 1, blast off!" I've ever enacted... this was absolutely the coolest thing ever for the kid in me. Well, that and having my own life size Optimus Prime, but I'm still working on that one. Anyhoo, it's hard to imagine that there are actually people up there, much less people working up there. Endeavour's mission, code named STS-130, will deliver the last major NASA module to the International Space Station. The six-member crew will perform three spacewalks during the 13-day mission to attach this module to the station. Basically, they're gonna install a big window so the astronauts can have a 360-degree view of outer space. Pretty neat.

Speaking of nice views, it's now 6am and the sun is rising. We've been hanging out at the Kennedy Space Center for the last 2 hours checking out the cool rocket exhibits. The wifey and I are still on our high from witnessing this awesome spectacle of a launch... which can only mean one thing: we're about to re-enter the atmosphere, or in other words, we're about to come crashing down. Big time. Things are starting to look a bit woozy; we're beginning to feeling a bit blurry; there's obvious nonsensical babbling occurring between the two of us. And all this without a single drop of alcohol. I guess this is what a lack of sleep will do to you.

So, in a bout of homelessness, we check-in to the nearest luxury hotel... our compact rental car. Yep, there's nothing quite like sleeping on the fully reclined seat of a Chevy Cobalt. Fortunately for us, we're prepared for such a situation and brought pillows from our real hotel. Unfortunately for us, we forget to roll down the windows for ventilation. You know those horror stories you hear about people leaving their babies or pets in their cars and how they like die from suffocation? Well, for 4.5 hours, we're pretty much knocked-the-f*ck-out and slowly suffocating in our own little CO2 death chamber only to be awaken by the wifey's gasps for air. C'mon, a little oxygen deprivation never hurt anybody... right? It was a really good nap though.

Since we're still alive, we figure we'd get out and explore the rest of the complex... which includes a 36-story replica of the Saturn V rocket that sent the astronauts to the moon, a visit to the NC-39A launchpad where the shuttle just blasted off from, and a tour of the International Space Station Center to see parts being prepared to be sent up to the station... kinda like an assembly line at the Jelly Belly Factory, but with space stuff instead of jellybeans. It's all really cool to see.

So anyhoo, I just realized that we spent the past three days camping out in near freezing temperatures, braved horrendous traffic, deprived ourselves of sleep, paid $10 for a soggy hot dog, and almost asphyxiate ourselves in our car... all for two minutes of bright lights and loud bangs. Would we do it again? Absolutely.

Pictures of the Day

Working in Outer Space

Cape Canaveral (Day 9): Blast Off!!

2010-02-08T14:49:00.000-08:00

It's 4:05 in the morning and we're standing in an open field outside of the Kennedy Space Center in Cape Canaveral. There's a growing excitement in the air, and we can feel the heightening energy of the crowd despite the 40-degree chill of the weather. Hey waitaminute... you ever get that déjà vu feeling? Like this all sounds too familiar? Maybe it's a glitch in the Matrix... or maybe, just maybe, we've done this before. Yep, just 24 hours ago, we were camped out in the cold anxiously awaiting the Space Shuttle launch. Twenty four hours later, we're camped out in the cold anxiously awaiting the Space Shuttle launch. I know, not much has changed. This time, though, we have faith it's gonna happen. We just need to think happy thoughts.

It's T-minus 9 minutes to launch, the weather's looking good, and to the cheers of the delighted crowd, Mission Control just announced that everything is a go. Anticipation is mounting. Our happy thoughts must be working! The final countdown has at long last begun, and we can feel the electricity in the early morning air. Not a single voice isn't counting down with the clock... "3, 2, 1, ignition!!" A faint, but surging light appears on the horizon. A distant rumbling grows louder. "We have liftoff!" a voice announces over the speakers. There's a collective gasp from the audience as the Space Shuttle Endeavour lights up the night like a fire in the sky. The searing heat from the shuttle's engines fills the heavens with a bright orange glow. Night suddenly turns into day, as though sunrise was set on fast forward. The roar of the blast finally catches up with its glow. The rumbling, like the crackling of thunder, grows louder and more intense as the shuttle reaches and then shatters the sound barrier. Accelerating to 17,500 mph in a matter of seconds, Endeavour carves a brilliant trail high into the sky. Suddenly, the booster rockets detach and begin their slow descent back down to Earth. For two minutes, we're frozen, with our heads tilted up towards the stars watching in complete and utter awe. As the shuttle rockets towards space, its once mighty light begins to fade... traveling further away with each second, growing smaller, glowing dimmer... until fittingly, Endeavour becomes one with the starry sky. Wow.

Random Stuff:

The shuttle was like 220 miles away in about two minutes... almost as fast as Vic's driving.
This is the last-ever Space Shuttle night launch. Yep, they're retiring the Space Shuttle program this year. Boooo!
We meet a guy who claims to have seen every single shuttle launch. According to him, this was the most beautiful ever. We agree.

Click here to see our Flickr pics!

Picture of the Day
Rocket Garden

Video of the Day

Space Shuttle Endeavour STS-130 Launch

Cape Canaveral (Day 8): Blast Off?

2010-02-07T21:42:00.000-08:00

It's 4:05 in the morning and we're standing in an open field outside of the Astronaut Hall of Fame at the Kennedy Space Center in Cape Canaveral. There's a growing excitement in the air, and we can feel the heightening energy of the crowd despite the 40-degree chill of the weather. I've got a blanket wrapped around my head and the wifey has binoculars glued to her eyes. We're quite a sight, yes, but in just 34 minutes, the Space Shuttle Endeavour will blast off on it's mission to the International Space Station. How exciting!

Exciting, indeed, as we've been here for over five friggin hours just hanging out at the Astronaut Hall of Fame. Why? Because we were given strict instructions to be here before the doors close at 11:30pm last night. Somehow, I think we were duped because stragglers were arriving as late as 3am. So we've just spent the last five hours killing time looking at space exhibits, re-looking at space exhibits, re-re-looking at space exhibits, seeing a real-life astronaut, eating a $10 hot dog, and playing Doodlejump on my iPod Touch to keep from passing out. Others didn't fare quite as well and were sleeping all around the exhibit halls, making this place look like some Jim Jones death camp with bodies strewn all over the place. Hmmph, so this is what it feels like to drink the Kool-Aid.

Anyhoo, all that hardship is quickly forgotten as we're anxiously awaiting the final countdown to launch. From what we can see on the Jumbotron, the shuttle is powered up on the launchpad and the astronauts suited up and ok-to-go like Jodie Foster in Contact [kudos... and condolences... to those who remember that suck-ass movie]. It's T-minus 15 minutes and the official word from mission control is a "60% cautiously optimistic" chance for launch. Space mumbo-jumbo for "let's get this party started!" I'm assuming. But, as the saying goes, "Never assume, for it makes an ASS out of U and ME." Words so true... because suddenly, it's a 30% chance, as wind and clouds appear outta nowhere. Five minutes later, more space mumbo-jumbo announcements from mission control: "Red on the range. Weather is a no-go." Umm... wait, that don't sound good. "SRO is a no-go. Launch is a no-go." Huh? What? "Repeat: launch is a no-go. Next attempt will be 4:14am tomorrow morning."

Fuck.

You mean to tell me we waited 5 hours for a scrubbed launch? Arrgh. The best part is, we get to do it all over again tomorrow. Oh, joy. We shoulda drank the Kool-Aid.

Random Stuff:

The 50-mile trip back to Orlando takes 2.5 hours due to the mass exodus of crazy traffic. Ugh. Wifey pinches me to keep me from falling asleep at the wheel.
We have to stop and pay toll like every 5 miles. Crappy thing is... we take a wrong exit and need to pay twice to get off and back onto the highway. Crappier thing is... it's one of those unmanned toll booths where you just throw change into a bucket. Too bad we ran out of change. I pull off on the side of the road, wifey flags down a speeding hooptie and manages to get change without being abducted. Woo hoo!
As tired as we are, you'd think we'd head back to the hotel to sleep. Nope. Orlando Premium Outlets, here we come!
Dinner at Bubbalou's Bodacious Diner for some yummy BBQ ribs. We manage not to get lynched.
Saints win Super Bowl.

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Picture of the Day
Eating A $10 Hot Dog

Orlando (Day 7): "Y'alls First Time...

2010-02-06T23:45:00.000-08:00

...at a Waffle House?" says the guy behind the counter in a slow southern drawl with a somewhat creepy smirk on his face. Suddenly, I'm having a Deliverance moment, and I can almost hear the banjos playing in the background. Before we walked in, I thought perhaps we'd be able to blend in with the truck stop-chic motif, the orange pleather upholstery, and the faux wood laminate decor. But even the antiquated jukebox in the corner that plays old 45's about Waffle House and its food couldn't get that banjo twang outta my head. As much as I hate to admit it, it is our first time at this southern cultural icon and there's no avoiding the fact that the three of us stand out like warts on a sore thumb.

"Yes, this is our first time at a Waffle House." I reply.
"Where y'all folks from?" he inquires.
"San Francisco."
"Saaaan Fraaaan?? Wooo-wee! You's a long way from home!"
[insert banjo twang here]

Yes, we are a long way from home. Too long. But we couldn't resist the sign on the window that read "14 meals under $5"... or maybe it was that low rent, roadside curb appeal that lured us into this waffle cafe chain. Whatever it was, the waffles are actually pretty damn good...well, at least in that greasy truck stop, fast food restaurant kinda way. Yum. Slap on the butter, pour on the syrup, fry up the bacon! Wooo-wee! I think I'm gonna bring me my own banjo next time.

So after eating at such a fine, rapid dining establishment, we're wondering what other similar culinary delights we might find here in Orlando. And find them, we do...

Chick-fil-A. No, it's not sportswear for women... and it's pronounced [chick-filet], not [chick-fil-ah] or [chick-a-fill] as Cindy likes to call it. This place is like any other fast food chain, but instead of beef-based burgers, everything is chicken. The chicken burger that's served up in an eco-unfriendly black styrofoam box isn't half bad and it's more tender and juicy than it looks. Think: Wendy's, McD's, and KFC ground up in a blender... oh, and add a bit of the 700 Club since it's closed on Sundays.

Bob Evans. This place sounds more like a realtor than a restaurant, but their chicken pot pie (which the waiter sells us on) isn't half bad. Throw in some warm banana nut bread, and you're good to go. It's kinda like a Baker's Square... that closes at 9:30pm.

Earl of Sandwich. The founders of this sandwich chain claim to be the 11th descendants of the actual Earl of Sandwich, the dude who invented the sandwich way back in 1762. I can't vouch for the validity of that claim, but I can tell you that their hot sandwiches are quite addictive, especially the All American -- roasted turkey, buttermilk ranch, cranberries, sharp cheddar cheese, lettuce & tomato. Yum. Imagine Subway, only better and fancier... but with a perpetually fat ass Jared. It's kinda like that.

Anyhoo, I dunno why we're so fascinated by what I like to call "new-to-you" fast food chains. I guess perhaps because...umm...they're new-to-us? Duh. Maybe it's the same reason why our east coast relatives always insist on stopping at an In-N-Out Burger every time they're here... or why having a White Castle is on my to-do list when I'm in the Midwest. Whatever the reason, I've come to realize that I'm happy to say that this is my first time at a Waffle House... and it definitely won't be my last.

Random Stuff:

Today we bid adieu to our dear friend Cindy, who BTW hooked us up with a fab suite at the Marriott Orlando World Center. Another FOC [Friend of Cindy] benefit!
Funny street name: Seven Dwarfs Way

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Picture of the Day
Seven Dwarfs Way

Orlando (Day 6): The Epcot Nazi

2010-02-05T12:11:00.000-08:00

When I was in the 1st grade, my teacher Mrs. Coffee-Smith, handed me a Weekly Reader... and on its cover was a brand new, shiny, giant sphere that looked like a humongous golf ball. They called it EPCOT Center, and it was enough to make any six year-old drool. From that day on, I knew... I WantToGoToThere.

Fast forward 31 years, and I'm standing underneath that giant golf ball, or Spaceship Earth as it's called. It's taken me over three decades, but I'm finally here. I'd like to stop and savor the moment, but the wifey is rushing us off to other attractions and I barely get a chance to snap a picture. "Your giant ball will still be there later. Now, let's go go go!" she quips. "B-b-but, there's Jiminy Cricket!" I shout, as I'm pointing to the costumed character that's standing there readily available for picture taking. I guess there'll be no pics with Jiminy cuz the wifey's taking me for a drag, and poor 'ol Cindy is holding her hot cup of Starbucks trying hard to keep up. The EPCOT Nazi is on a tight schedule and she's not gonna let me, my giant ball, a stupid cricket, or Cindy's scalded fingers keep her from deviating from that schedule. In fact, she's the one that woke us up at the crack of dawn, shoved breakfast down our throats, and decided what we could and could not bring to the park... though Cindy's desire to carry around a 2nd lipstick and an extra phone charger was quite deserving of the EPCOT Nazi's veto.

So the first stop in our Gestapo death march is at Test Track, which is basically Autopia on steroids, crack, and speed... and I mean that in the most literal sense because we're taken on a 60mph joyride around banked curves and bumpy roads that has us screaming like three little girls. Fun. Next, we're being whisked to Soarin', a flight simulator over California like the one at Disneyland which we totally can't get enough of. That scene where we fly over the Sierras always gets me. Anyhoo, all that hurrying seems to have paid off since we're able to enjoy most of the popular rides all within the first two hours.

But perhaps the most memorable ride of all is Mission: Space... and let's just call it for what it really is: a puke inducer. G-forces, spinning, dizziness, all the wonders of space travel... no wonder why there was only a 5-minute wait. This is the only ride I've ever been on where they give you a barf bag. It just goes to show that we're not cut out to be astronauts. But it does give us a reprieve from the hammer of the EPCOT Nazi since she's about to lose her cookies too.

All of which gives us an opportunity to checkout the World Showcase, a bunch of pavilions representing a bunch of different countries like China, Norway, Mexico, France, etc. It's a little bit Vegas-y with half-scale replicas of famous monuments, but I figure where else can you get a meal from Morocco, dessert from a French patisserie, and a turkey leg from "America"...all the while wearing a fez, holding a Viking axe, and checking out the chick dressed like Mulan at the Temple of Heaven? Not even in Vegas, baby.

So as the day winds down, the sky is set ablaze with fireworks, the rain stops falling, and the EPCOT nazi begins her transformation back to being the wifey. Whew. You know, EPCOT stands for Experimental Prototype Community Of Tomorrow, but I think Every Person Comes Out Tired is more fitting... as demonstrated by Cindy being knocked-the-f*ck-out on our way out. EPCOT Nazi claims her first victim.

Random Stuff:

Cindy actually uses her phone charger at the park.
All the worker bees at the World Showcase are from their respective countries, and they all speak English with actual accents. Kinda neat, though I am a little offended by the Chinese accent. I can't understand a thing homeboy is saying.
The Downtown Disney here is huuuge.

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Picture of the Day
Feeling the Disney Magic

Video of the Day

Screaming Like A Little Girl

Miami (Day 5): Ice Ice Bruschi

2010-02-04T23:30:00.000-08:00

Rollin' in my 5.0
With my rag top down so my hair can blow

Ok. I've sunken to a new low. I'm quoting Vanilla Ice. But hey, how many times can you say...

I busted a left and I'm heading to the next block
That block was dead, Yo!
So I continued to... A1A -- Beachfront Avenue!

...and really mean it? As soon as I busted that left onto the A1A Highway, it was high school all over again! Dun-dun-dun dun-dun dun-dun. Ice ice baby too cold too cold. Hey, I really liked that song back in the day. And don't tell me you didn't want those stripes on the side of your head too. Yeah, you know what I'm talking about. I don't see any girls wearing less than bikinis, but the drive is nice and I do see a couple of Lamborghinis. Funny thing is, as we're on the A1A, this Miami radio station is playing Stevie B. Earlier today I heard Timmy T. All they need to do now is play Johnny O and the early 90's trifecta will be complete. Yeah, boyeee!

Anyhoo, today is our last day in The Magic City before heading off on our 3.5 hour drive to Orlando, so we decide to checkout the NFL Fan Zone along Ocean Drive in South Beach. Super Bowl festivities are in full effect with tents galore, free random t-shirt giveaways, unlimited Tide detergent samples, and a scheduled appearance by Tedy Bruschi. Ahh, Tedy Bruschi... the Wifey and I went to middle school with that guy. She remembers him trying to snap her bra strap back in the 7th grade... now he's got 3 Super Bowl rings, and I'd probably let him snap my bra strap if he wanted to. I wonder if he'd remember us. Hey, he signed my yearbook, which BTW, I'm thinking I could hock on eBay. But alas, there will be no Marina Middle School reunion since time's a-wastin and we gots to get on the road. Besides, some kid named Justin Beiber is giving a concert and we need to get the hell outta dodge before the crazy teeny-boppers invade. I don't get the appeal. C'mon, can the Beiber bust out lyrics like this:

To the extreme I rock a mic like a vandal
Light up a stage and wax a chump like a candle

I don't think so. Word to your mother.

Random Stuff:

Miami observations: No motorcycle helmet laws. Driving while on the phone is a-ok. People drive like maniacs. People are allergic to turn signals. Lots of big boats docked in front of big houses. Lots of open space here. Tolls for just driving on the highway.
Miami's a great town if you're into clubbing... or if you're about to croak. Unfortunately (or fortunately), we kinda land somewhere in between.
The drive up to Orlando isn't too bad, as we get to see much of the state. It costs us $9.40 in toll through Florida's Turnpike. $9.40 just to get on a freeway... sheesh! I guess that's why it's not called a "freeway" here.
Meeting up with Cindy in Orlando.

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Picture of the Day
Sunset on Florida's Turnpike

Miami (Day 4): Back to the Village

2010-02-03T21:30:00.000-08:00

Boy, this town is eerily devoid of my fellow Asian brethren... which kinda gets me a little worried. Are we gonna get lynched? I'm hoping not, since there are a whole lotta other "ethnics" in this city. But, I've yet to run into more than just a random smattering of my peoples here and there... not even the usual gaggle of Japanese tourists (or is it the Taiwanese doing the invading these days?). Anyhoo, where are all of my Fellow Yellows? We're kinda like ants, really. We're usually everywhere. You'd figure in a city this big, there'd at least be a Chinatown somewhere. Heck, there was even a C-town in Buenos Aires for crying out loud.

So imagine my relief when I hear that there's a Chinese Village located somewhere in Coral Gables, a swanky community near the outskirts of Miami. A Chinese village? You mean like the kind my parents grew up in? The kind with a well, a water buffalo, and maybe a couple of stray chickens running around? The kind where I can bust out my Toisan-ese and converse with the villagers in their native tongue?? Hmm... well... not quite. Turns out, this "Chinese Village" was built in the 1920's as part of a bigger scheme by a guy named George Merrick, who had grandiose architectural plans for a Disneyesque, internationally themed neighborhood. I guess Merrick wanted a community composed of a slew of "villages" with houses built in French, Italian, Mediterranean, Old Colonial, and Dutch styles. He even threw in a huge public Venetian pool just for kicks. It's all kinda neat to see, however only the Chinese Village really stands out... but more of in a white-guy-builds-Chinese-looking-hut kinda way. At first glance, the houses look like mini pagodas. But take a closer look at the "Asian-inspired" motifs and you'll feel like you're at a P.F. Chang's. Let's just say this Chinese village is more sweet and sour pork than steamed chicken feet, if you get my drift. I hope I get a fortune cookie on the way out.

Speaking of food and swanky areas, we're on our way to Enriqueta's Cafe, which according to our trusty friend Yelp, is ranked numero uno for cheap Cuban eats in Miami. Yelpers have yet to fail us and this time is no exception. This unassuming little joint serves up simply THE best Cuban sandwiches EVER! The ham, roasted pork, Swiss cheese, pickles, and mustard pressed between two slices of toasted Cuban bread practically melt in your mouth; the sweet plantains are roasted to perfection; and the Arroz Moros, a simple concoction of black beans and rice, is to die for. And I mean that in the most literal sense, since Yelp forgot to mention the seediness of the neighborhood... or should I say, da hood. Think: driving through Oakland to get to a truck stop just to buy a sandwich. Mmmm... so worth it.

Random Stuff:

Super Bowl hype is building especially along South Beach. ESPN is filming SportsCenter, but Steve Young is a no-show. Doh! Such a disappointment for us and the dudes waiting around for autographs talking too loudly about eBay.
South Beach at night is a sight to see. Besides the purty lights, there are purty people and purty cars. We cruised down Ocean Drive following a line of tricked out cars... it was kinda like this: Ferrari, Lamborghini, Maybach, and Chevy Cobalt. Yeah, baby. That's how we roll.
Wifey smashes her ganglion cyst with the hotel room Bible. Don't ask.

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Picture of the Day
Cruising South Beach

Miami (Day 3): SoBe It

2010-02-02T07:19:00.000-08:00

I was right. Last night, we were both craving more Cuban food... so at around 11pm, we hopped back over to Little Havana for some late night chow at this restaurant called Versailles. I'm not sure if it's related to the one in LA, but it's a little more "upscale" than Exquisito. Let's just say you probably wouldn't find Tony Montana eating here, but it might be a joint he'd come into and shoot up. Anyhoo, I'd gladly take a bullet for their Oxtail Stew cuz it's to die for... or at least be maimed for.

Speaking of getting gunned down... today, we're here at Miami's South Beach standing in front of Gianni Versace's mansion, where on these very steps, he was brutally shot and killed. Kinda morbid, I know. But like any good Asian tourist, I'm gonna bust out a peace sign and snap a picture in front of it. Smile! Hey, I think I see Donatella! Oh wait, that's a dude. And speaking of dudes (and as evidenced by the wifey's rubbernecking), there's like a ton of tanned, buff dudes just walking around all over the place showing off all their junk and crap. The worst was this Fabio-looking guy in his speedo rinsing off in the beach shower... like straight outta a Sex & The City movie. Friggin making me all self-conscious of my pale chicken legs, shooot. Damn hoochie.

Anyhoo, besides the pretty people, South Beach (or SoBe as none of the locals call it), is full of pretty buildings as well. Walking along Ocean Drive, we can't help but notice the crazy, ice cream-colored, 1930's Art Deco buildings that line the street. Stylized with tropical motifs, nautical features, neon, and chrome, these structures look more like cruise liners and UFO's than hotels and condos. It's hard to imagine that they were originally all white and were only painted these crazy colors in the 80's. Even the lifeguard huts on the beach look cool... like they were built by someone hopped up on speed. I guess they don't call it the Deco District for nothing. It's beautiful, unique, and quirky all at the same time... kinda like the wifey. Maybe that's why I like it so much.

Random Stuff:

There's lots of prep for the Superbowl, and a bunch of different outlets are setting up their stalls for the big parties. They're like animals jockeying for space. ESPN seems to have dominated most of the beach with a bunch of booths where they are already broadcasting live from. Tide also seems like a big sponsor with big boxes everywhere. The wifey spotted some samples they're probably going to be passing out, and decided to pilfer some. Hey, we need to do laundry.
There are no Asians here. It's weird. We've seen almost no other fellow yellows. Why is that? Do we not like the heat? The tanned bodies? The Superbowl? Who knows. I'm scared.

Lunch at Jerry's Famous Deli for Corned Beef Sandwich and Chocolate Pancakes. Yummy.

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Picture of the Day
Lifeguard Huts

Bikinis Just Like in Rio, but Bigger

Miami (Day 2): Miami Rice

2010-02-01T09:27:00.000-08:00

Miami. Land of sunshine, Gloria Estefan, pink flamingos, over-toasted elderly white people, and slicked-back-hair dudes who wear big medallions and shorts with dress shoes without socks. Or at least that's how I kinda pictured Miami to be... with a Jan Hammer theme song perpetually playing in the background, of course. Everything I know about this place I learned from watching Miami Vice.

So imagine my relief to discover a little bit of culture in Little Havana, Miami's Cuban neighborhood [or as my friend, Tony Montana would say, "coo-ban"]. The main drag is 8th Street, or Calle Ocho as the "natives" call it, and it's a bit reminiscent of a... say... Chinatown for Cubans, if you will. Instead of Chinese kitsch, there's Cuban kitsch. Instead of herbal shops, there's cigar shops. Instead of restaurants, there's... umm, restaurants... which is pretty much the main reason why we're here, despite the crazy rain. We're at a local joint called Exquisito Restaurant, where the Exquisito Especial Cuban Sandwich is aptly named, and the Stuffed Chicken Breast will leave me craving for more come dinnertime. Add a side of plantains [fried bananas], moros rice [rice stewed in black beans], and creamy smooth flan for dessert, and you can pretty much slap yo' momma silly. Yum. I think I've died and gone to Cuba!

So far, I've likened Miami to be a splash of Hawaii with a dash of New Orleans, a pinch of LA, a sprinkle of Tijuana, and a touch of Rio... and with the torrential downpour today, maybe even a hint of Seattle. Sunshine State, my ass. Though, there are a ton of palm trees all over the place. The worst part is trying to convince the wifey that I'm Crockett and she's Tubbs... not the other way around.

Random Stuff:

We found a Winn Dixie! We've always heard about this store on TV shows like Mama's Family, but never actually been to one. Pretty disappointing, really... it's just like a Safeway, or more like a Lucky. The wifey was hoping to run into Mama, but I guess she's probably busy shopping at the Piggly Wiggly. [Yes, we used to watch Mama's Family. Don't act like you didn't.]

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Picture of the Day
Watermelon Soda. No Comment.

Miami (Day 1): Super Tar-zhay

2010-01-31T17:37:00.000-08:00

What the hell's a Super Target? Back home, we've got a Target Greatland... but a Super Target? Umm... Must. Go. There. This place is so huge, I dunno how I could've missed it from the plane. We just landed in Fort Lauderdale for a little gander in the Sunshine State, and the first place we head for is... Tar-zhay. Go figure.

Anyhoo, this overbloated Target is connected to Sawgrass Mills, the world's biggest strip mall... seriously. It's eight acres of shopping bliss, so you can pretty much walk off that Orange Julius while trying to get from the Nike Factory Store to the Gap Outlet. But that's not to say there aren't great deals to be had here... like retro kicks for $19.99 and jeans for seven bucks. Score! Even the Bourbon chicken from the food court isn't half bad. What is a little disturbing is walking into the Banana Republic Outlet without seeing a single Asian there. I guess we're not in Kansas anymore... or are we?

Random Stuff:

The Pro Bowl is here. Today. Who knew?

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Picture of the Day
Sawgrass Mills Mall. Shopping Heaven... or Hell?

Buenos Aires (Day 18): Argentime

2009-10-17T22:56:00.000-07:00

Buenos Aires is only 4 hours ahead of Pacific Standard Time, but it seems as though Argentines here are on their own special schedule. 45 minutes late? No problem. Not showing up when you say you would? Ehh, whatever. Everyone from the landlord to the maid to the Argentine PG&E guy has either been extremely late or has stood us up for an appointment. Maybe it's a cultural thing... or maybe the wifey and I just smell funny... but it's a wonder how anything ever gets done around here. There's a term for this in Chinese called lau hay... which basically means you heeelllla unreliable. But I've coined a new term for this Argentine laissez faire attitude: Argentime.

Like you'd think we were on some tropical island or something with how relaxed and indifferent everyone is. Sheesh. This is, after all, a major metropolitan city. But when you're on Argentime, the world moves just a little slower. No, let me rephrase that... the world moves just a little later. Dinner, for instance, starts around 9:30 in the evening and doesn't really get into full swing until about 10pm. Walk into a restaurant at 7pm and the waiters will look at you funny and ask if you're there for lunch. Who eats lunch at 7 o'clock at night? Apparently, the wifey and I do. But when you're on Argentime, you might as well be on PST, as it all kinda works to our advantage since the restaurants are completely empty when we're eating. I guess it's kinda as if we were back home and showed up for dinner at 4:30. I'd give us funny looks too.

When you're on Argentime, meals last for hours. I guess, here, eating is more of a social event rather than an act of survival, and the waiters won't shoo you away after you've finished your meal... even if there's a line waiting out the door. The only problem is, it takes forever to get our check since they expect people to mill around. I'm sure to them, we look like we're in such a big rush. I also hear they take 2 hour lunches and nap quite often. Hmmph... Argentime. Maybe they know something we don't.

Oh, and speaking of time, we really don't know what time it is over here. Apparently, Argentina usually observes daylight savings this weekend, but for some reason decided not to do it this year... but the problem is, someone forgot to tell the official world clock people on our iPod Touch. WTH? I don't wanna show up for lunch when it's really dinner time.

Random Stuff:

When we first arrived and were looking for a place to have dinner--around like 7pm--we were like, "Dang, this city is dead... there's like no one eating out." Little did we know that we were just hella friggin early.
Going back to the apartment for a mini seista.
Checking out the Biblioteca Nacional, their public library. It's a huge and stranging looking building with tight security and the gaurd wouldn't let us in. Umm, it's a library.
Admiring the photo exhibit at Centro Cultural Recoleta.
Strolling around Recoleta and Plaza Francia at night.
Fugazza Pizza (mozzerella and unions) at Morelia. Yum.
Today is the anniversary of the beginning of Peronism. Woo hoo.

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Picture of the Day
Centro Cultural Recoleta Artwork

Buenos Aires (Day 17): Argentine Snackies

2009-10-16T22:24:00.000-07:00

As if we're not eating enough here already. With all the beef and dulce de leche consumption between the two of us, I'm pretty sure we're single-handedly bringing stability to the Argentine Peso. But every time we visit a new foreign country, we try to immerse ourselves into the local culture as much as we can. Do what the locals do. Eat what the locals eat. So, in the name of cultural goodwill, we've sacrificed our blood pressure and cholesterol levels for the greater good... our tummies. Tummy, meet your new friends...

Alfajores. Ever wonder what would happen if an Oreo cookie had sex with a Hostess Ding Dong in a vat of dulce de leche? They'd have funny looking kids called alfajores. Well, they're not that funny looking, but they sure taste damn yummy. They basically consist of a slab of dulce de leche sandwiched in something that's not quite a cookie, not yet a cake... and completely covered in chocolate. The most popular ones are made by a company called Havanna, and there are even cafes all over the city that serve them. Although, we personally prefer the more ghetto brand sold in supermarkets called Jorgitos. I guess that's kinda like saying we prefer Chips Ahoy over Mrs. Field's.

Te Con Leche. Nothing goes better with an alfajor than te con leche... or tea with milk. In other words, milk tea! Milk tea, oh how I love thee! My addiction to this drug of choice has brought me to 5 continents... each with its own distinct goodness. Here, te con leche is similar to what you'd find in England... with one big difference: our old friend, dulce de leche. It adds a creamy richness that you don't find in the UK. Jolly good show!

Helados. With 25 million Argentines claiming some sort of Italian descent, it's hard not to have good ice cream. Helados is the Argentine answer to Italian gelato. Smooth and creamy, it's to die for... which just might be the case if you have too much. So far our favorite flavor is almendrato [almond] from a heladeria called Chungo.

Chocolate Churros. I'm not sure if this is an exclusively Argentine snackie, but they sell them everywhere here. It's soft enough to bite into, yet crispy enough to go crunch in your mouth. These guys give the Costco churros a run for their money [gasp!]. Filled with dulce de leche and covered with chocolate, it's suprisingly not as sweet as it sounds. We had some from a street vendor... and it was sooo worth the potential trip to the porto-potty.

New friends, get in mah belly.

And Now, A Word From the Wifey...

Um, Am I An Addict?
I found out that they sell the Salamandra Dulce de Leche at the grocery store. So, of course I bought it. Now I sit in the apartment eating it straight out of the jar. I think I'm like one of those alcoholics who first start their addiction by drinking socially. Then they buy a bottle and go home and drink alone.

I'm to that point.

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Picture of the Day
Limonada with Mint and Ginger

Buenos Aires (Day 16): Got Hairy Crabs at Cafe Tortoni

2009-10-15T15:41:00.000-07:00

Did you know that there's a huge Jewish population in Buenos Aires? I didn't either. But evidently, there is... since the word under the Golden Arches reads "Kosher." Hmm... neat. This is the only Kosher McDonald's in the world outside of Israel. And it's here. In Buenos Aires. In front of me. I feel like I found some Jewish holy grail, but too bad I'm not Jewish... nor am I 100% sure what "kosher" really means. Something about food being prepared under rabbi supervision or something. But looking at the posters they have of the Big Macs, quarter pounders, and hamburgers, I notice that there's one thing missing: the cheese. I guess kosher also means no diary. Perfect for the wifey, but since she's accepted her new-found-southern-hemisphere lactose tolerance, the point is rather moot. Personally, I like my cheeseburgers with cheese.

Speaking of lactose, this decadent hot chocolate we're drinking at Cafe Tortoni should be giving her the runs. Luckily for me (and everyone else in the restaurant), it's not... which gives us an opportunity to enjoy the elegant 19th century decor of this Buenos Aires institution. Cafe Tortoni has been around since 1858, and the wonderfully stained glass, polished woods, and yellowing marble floors make us feel like we've stepped into a time machine. From the autographed pictures and memorabilia hanging on the walls, it seems as though every famous Argentine politician, artist, and writer has frequented this place. Literary porteños greats like Jorge Luis Borges did their best work at these very tables. And, as I'm enjoying our chocolate con churro and writing notes for this blog entry, I'm thinking they might want to add my picture and autograph to their collection as well. Ok, maybe not. How about a happy face drawn on a post-it note with my name on it instead? Got Hairy Crabs in Cafe Tortoni... sounds catchy.

Random Stuff:

The Jewish neighborhood is called Once... pronounced On-say like Beyonce.
Hanging out at Abasto Shopping Center in Once and Falabella, a Chilean department store like H&M. Stuff isn't any cheaper than in the US, but lots of people are actually buying stuff, unlike the lookyloos in China.

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Picture of the Day
El Obelisco

Buenos Aires (Day 15): The Streets of BsAs

2009-10-14T10:56:00.000-07:00

Ok, we just jaywalked across the widest boulevard in the world. Leave it to a couple of Chinese people to make any street their personal Chinatown intersection. But hey, we did it for a great cause... to get a self-portrait shot of us and the beautiful French embassy. Leave it to us to risk life and limb for a picture. The building is a classic example of Belle Époque architecture, and it's hard to imagine that the whole street was once lined with these works of art before the government decided to raze them all in the name of Avenida 9 de Julio.

In fact, Buenos Aires (unfortunately abbreviated BsAs) is a remarkably beautiful city. Walking down Avenida de Mayo or Avenida Santa Fe with it's outdoor cafes really makes us feel like we're in Paris again. Or, strolling through the ritzy area of Recoleta takes us back to Manhattan's Upper East Side. Avenida Avlear's LV and Cartier stores remind us of Rodeo Drive. Palermo, like SF's Union Street.

But that's not to say the streets of BsAs aren't without it's own unique quirks... some good, some bad, some just plain gross. The buildings here are grand, with opulent facades, but some are in dire need of repair like the abandoned old church or the empty hospital in Recoleta. Practically every street in the city is lined with tall, lusciously green trees... absolutely beautiful, but you can't admire them too long since you'll need to pay attention to the obstacle course of dog poop and broken-up ass sidewalks, which btw, seem to be the responsibility of the home/shop owner since each plot in front of each building is paved differently... and sometimes not paved at all. There are no pedestrian lights on some streets, so you'll just have to look at the signal for oncoming traffic to make sure it's safe to go. Many intersections are blind, where the right of way is given to the car that doesn't feel like stopping. The cars get pretty close to you, but they'll honk before they run you over, unlike in China. Graffiti is rampant, but some look as though they should be hanging in museums. It's not uncommon to see dog walkers hanging on to like 20 dogs. Oh, and there's PDA all over the place... and I don't mean the Blackberry kind. These people need to get a room.

Anyhoo, the streets of Buenos Aires definitely have a lot to offer... and not just a sole-ful of crap.

Random Stuff:

There aren't too many fancy cars on the road, though there are a lot of 60's and 70's classics... and some 90's "classics" as well.
The Iglesia du Nuestra Senora Del Pilar is a nice, elaborate church next to the Recoleta cemetery. We paid $4 pesos to see the cloisters but it was worth it to see get a birds eye view of the mausoleums.
Shopping at Patio Bullrich, another high end mall.
For dinner, we had locro at Las Cabras, an Argentine stew of beans, vegetables, and beef. Pretty yummy.

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Picture of the Day
The Reason We Do The Palermo Hop

Buenos Aires (Day 14): Don't Cry For Me, Nacho Libre

2009-10-13T16:23:00.000-07:00

Buenos Aires is full of good looking people. The dudes are generally well groomed, and a lot of the chicas are tall and statuesque like movie stars. In fact, we've been running into an unprecedented amount of celebrity look-alikes... or maybe the wifey and I are just trying to keep ourselves entertained. Whatever it is, I can't exactly sneak a picture of these unintentional impersonators, so you'll just have to take my word that: the baker guy at the empanada shop is a dead ringer for Robert DeNiro; the manager at Morelia looks just like Stephen Baldwin; and the waiter at Miranda might as well be Jack Black's twin brother. We've dubbed him Nacho Libre (not to his face, of course). Ehh, for all I know, everytime we walk into these places they're probably saying, "Hey, there's Jackie Chan and Connie Chung again!"

I'll show you two celebs that don't look a thing alike: Madonna and Eva Peron. Apparently, Argentines were up in arms when the Material Girl was cast as their beloved Evita. They got even more pissed when the president at the time allowed her to film on the balcony of the Casa Rosada, where Evita famously made her speeches. I'm sure they busted a vein when they found out how much the movie sucked.

Anyhoo, as we're discovering at the Museo Evita [Evita Museum], Eva Peron was an accomplished woman. She was a budding actress-turned glamorous first lady and political activist who championed women's rights, the working class, children, and the elderly. She's like Jackie O, Eleanor Roosevelt, Grace Kelly, and a little bit of Ceasar Chavez all combined into one! Now that's an ugly baby. And to think all I knew of her was that she sang that Don't Cry For Me Argentina song. Oh wait... or was that Madonna?

Random Stuff:

Evita died at age 33 of cancer, yet she accomplished so much. People here love her, but quite a lot hate her just as much (apparently, the rich and wealthy class).
The wifey is obsessed with finding this eco-friendly supermarket bag she saw in some Argentine magazine. The bag reads Mi Bolsa Eco Amiga and it's sold at a supermarket called Disco. I kinda equate it to some foreigner coming to the states and saying, "Dang, I gotta have that canvas Safeway bag!"

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Picture of the Day
Plaza de Mayo at Night

Buenos Aires (Day 13): Dulce de Leche

2009-10-12T20:22:00.000-07:00

The other day, we were having lunch at Oui Oui, a cute little French-style cafe located near our posh Palermo apartment. It was pretty bustling, but the bright orange patio chairs and tables, along with the plethora of mouth watering baked goods laying on the counter, took my attention away from the crowd. It was 2 in the afternoon, but candles were lit ever-so-much adding to the already quaint ambiance of the place. The wifey and I were sharing a plate of homemade waffles, but instead of maple syrup, there laid a dollop of dulce de leche on the side... and it was hella good. That's when we realized what the Argentines have known for years: dulce de leche on anything is hella good.

Here, dulce de leche is practically it's own food group. It's that creamy goodness made of boiled milk and sugar that you might know better as caramel. They put it on everything here. It's used as a syrup, a sauce, in ice cream, on pancakes... I wouldn't be suprised if they bathed in it. There's even a whole section devoted to it at the supermercado [supermarket]. It's a national obsession... and for good reason, as I noticed the wifey licking the plate clean. It actually tastes a little different than the caramel we get at home... creamier, less rich, and more flavorful, a testament to the purity of ingredients here. Among various pastries and sweets, we've also encountered this heavenly stuff filled in crepes, flavored in helados [Argentine gelato], sandwiched in a Ding Dong-like snack called alfajores, mixed into tea, and even spit out from a soft serve machine at Burger King. Mmm... it's dulce de-lish-che.

And Now, A Word From the Wifey...

Because we were cash poor, we stumbled into this little cafe which takes credit cards called "La Salamandra". They serve 2 things: buffalo mozzarella and dulce de leche. Um, why didn't they just call this place "Sandy, Eat Here" because I LOVE both.

Dulce de Leche has always been my favorite Haagen Dazs flavor, but I had no idea what the real thing was. Oh my...it's good. We ordered a crossiant (also very good) and a serving of dulce de leche. It's pure heaven. I don't know if I'll be able to go back to that stuff they call "caramel" in the States.

Random Stuff:

No real plans today, so we just go where ever the wind takes us... and it takes us on a stroll down Avenida Santa Fe, a main thoroughfare with interesting shops and architecture.
On that street is El Ateneo, a huge bookstore in an old converted theater. It's as if a Borders moved into a grand opera house. What was once the stage is now a cafe, the opera box seats are now reading areas, and the upper story curved walls are lined floor to ceiling with books. This place is amazing.
While crossing Avenida 9 de Julio, a huge motorcade of soccer fans/players zoom by with packed buses, kids hanging off the sides, and armed police and helicopter escorts. They take their Fútbol seriously here.
Thin crust caprese pizza at Morelia for dinner. Mmm, mmm good.

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Picture of the Day
El Ateneo Bookstore

Buenos Aires (Day 12): Tango and Cash

2009-10-11T19:58:00.000-07:00

I know what you're thinking. Tango and Cash... isn't that a movie? Yes, it is. And kudos to you if you can tell me who starred in it. That is, if you're not too embarrassed to admit that you know. No hints, but I'll tell you this much... it's got nothing to do with the Argentine form of dance or the art of getting money from a Spanish-speaking ATM.

Passionate, intense, and soulful, nothing quite sums up vibrant Buenos Aires as beautifully as the dance form that started here over 120 years ago - the Tango. We're in the barrio of San Telmo watching a couple of street performers gracefully gliding across their makeshift dancefloor. The wifey and I can't seem to take our eyes off the duo as they flawlessly nail every intricate step. The dude looks kinda like Antonio Banderas, with that, you know, Latin-lover kinda look, and his harsh movements complement the chica's gracefulness quite well. We actually don't know how good of dancers they are, but if we were judges on DWTS, we'd give them both a big "10." Needless to say, the whole thing is awesomely entertaining, with the dude telling a story and explaining each dance to the crowd in Spanish. We don't know what the heck he's saying, but the energy coming from all the activity in this old plaza sure makes it fun to watch.

San Telmo on Sundays is a spectacle in itself. With it's elegant old buildings, cobblestone roads, and a weekly antiques fair at Plaza Dorrego, the area is awash with a sea of people. Not quite as crazy as Nanjing Road in Shanghai or the Chinese New Year fair in Hong Kong, but pretty close. Along Calle Defensa, the main pedestrian drag, the street is lined with bands playing their music and artisans selling their crap... umm, I mean crafts... all the while, a crazy and loud drum troupe comes marching down the road waving a giant ass flag, with people just dancing and having fun all around them. It's just so Latin America... so Carnival. I love it.

And Now, A Word From the Wifey...

It seems that every trip, we somehow wind up with no cash. Well, this trip is no different. We exchanged $200US when we arrived, and we've burned through that. Yesterday, we stop by the ATM to withdraw some much needed pesos. All the instructions for the ATM are in Spanish, and no matter what we do, the machine refuses to spit out any pesos.

We resort to looking over some lady's shoulder to see what she is doing. (Yes, we've turned into those creepy people I try to avoid while withdrawing money.) She's pushing exactly the same buttons we tried, and somehow the machine spit out cash for her! WTH...are these ATMs racist?

The hubby calls the bank this morning and the lady tells us that we were trying to withdraw money from the wrong account. What?!?

Well, we've been going around with only about 50 pesos in our pockets (about $13US). So we've been super frugal the past couple of days. Like we wanted to leave a 5 peso tip this morning, but decided not to splurge and just left a 4 peso tip. I also wouldn't let the hubby have a Havanna alfajor for 3 pesos. Yes, we're talking about being cheap on like $0.50 items. Gosh!

Well, this morning, we find a HSBC, and the hubby tries a series of different buttons on the ATM, and the sweet sound of money being counted hums and money comes out. Yeah, we're in business!

We immediately go to Havanna and enjoy ourselves a te con leche and alfajor...Oh wait, they take credit cards! JAH!

Random Stuff:

Lunch at a place called Chungo. Toast, ham and cheese sandwich, freshly squeezed OJ, soda water, tarts, te con leche, and chocolate cake all for under $10!
Shopping at Alto Palermo, a modern high end mall.
A nice consequence of the torrential rains last night: it washed away all the dog poop from the sidewalks.

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Video of the Day

Tango!
Picture of the Day
San Telmo Sunset

Buenos Aires (Day 11): Hippie Food

2009-10-10T21:58:00.000-07:00

After a week of insanely delicious meat, the hubby decides that he needs a break from it all and suggests that we try the local organic vegetarian restaurant. The name of the place is Bio and it's pronounced B-O. Wait, isn't B.O. a bad thing? And why would I want to eat somewhere that's named B.O.? Well, I guess I really love my hippie hubby because I play along.

As we stroll there, there is a light rain which adds to the ambiance. The restaurant itself is very quaint and romantic. There are pretty flowers on the table as well as a nice soundtrack of Coldplay in the background. We order a couple of dishes and some jugo [juice] and a milkshake. Hey, maybe I was wrong about this place...it's actually really cool!

Just as things seem to be going well, the rain turns into a torrential downpour. The entire corner where the restaurant is located is turned into a miniature lake. A leak springs above us and water comes pouring in next to the hubby. We have to move tables just to avoid the drips. Just as this is happening, Coldplay finishes up and some freaky loud chanting music comes on. Then they bring out our dishes and if it were on the floor, I'd be doing the Palermo hop. And, to top off my dish, there are some flower petals...hey, aren't these the same flowers that are on the table as decoration? Well, we eat the organic vegetarian meal and the hubby complains that he's not full. I suggest he eat the flowers in the vase as well. Oh, did I mention my milkshake was sesame ginger? Um, not a good combo.

We get the check, and it costs about twice as much as our insane 10 pounds of meat Parrillada Completa meal.

Oh, and the fun doesn't stop there. The next morning, both of us have the emergencia numero dos that we've been trying so hard to avoid. Greeeeeeat.

Tomorrow night: meat for dinner.

And Now, a Word From the Hubby...

C'mon, the place wasn't that bad. Ok, maybe I coulda done without the tantric chanting during our meal... and the orange flower petals in the salad was kinda weird tasting... and perhaps the emergencia numero dos the next day wasn't too pleasant. Alright, fine, the place pretty much sucked donkeys. Psshht, organic my foot. The only thing organic was the crap coming out of my ass the next day. But think of it this way, it did clean out the pipes and it smelled kinda grassy. Must be all the fiber. TMI? Sorry. Blame it on the damn hippie food and damn hippie music.

Random Stuff:

The rest of the day was spent exploring our hip and trendy neighborhood of Palermo Soho. The area is filled with little boutiques selling designer stuff. There happened to be an arts & crafts street fair at Plaza Serrano today. Great, more hippies selling hippie crap.
No Subte today. The metro was busted for some reason, so we had to walk everywhere.
We're running out of cash and we can't figure out the ATM's cuz it's all in Spanish. Doh!
Buenos Aires graffiti. I wish the graffiti we had at home looked this good. Sure beats tagging.

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Pictures of the Day
Buenos Aires Graffiti

Palermo Nights

Buenos Aires (Day 10): Bife. It's What's For Dinner.

2009-10-09T20:44:00.000-07:00

Argentina is famous for it's beef, or bife as it's called here. You pretty much can't come to this country and not walk into some restaurant that serves up steak in one form or another. Back home, I've been avoiding red meat. Here, there's just no way in hell. The wifey and I have had tender, juicy steak just about every other day since we arrived here. Hey, I figure... why fight it?

So what's for dinner? Meat... and meat... and more meat. Oh, did I mention meat? The other day, we were at a restaurant called Las Cabras a block away from our apartment. It's a nice, romantic spot with an outdoor patio that's dimly lit with a bunch of flickering tea candles. It's considered a parrilla, or a place that grills meat, so naturally, we decided to go all out and ordered the most expensive thing on the menu called the Parrillada Completo. Just by the name alone, we shoulda figured out that us two lightweights wouldn't be able to finish this monstrosity of a dish. Anyhoo, out came like 10 pounds of sirloin, sausages, chicken, short ribs, blood sausages, kidneys, gizzards, and various cow entrails all on a hot grill... plus you get a big bowl of fries to wash it all down. All this yummy goodness for under $15... no extra charge for the coronary, though.

So what's for dinner tonight? Did I mention meat? We're here at Miranda, our new favorite restaurant in Buenos Aires, cutting into what may be the best ribeye steak [ojo con al bife] we've ever had. The meat is grilled to perfection with just the right amount of tenderness that I almost think I can cut into it with a spoon. Every juicy bite fills my palate with the aroma of pure, unbridled beef accompanied with that hint of slight burntness that's just discreet enough to keep you wanting more. If I could have a steak orgasm, this would be it. Throw in a dab of Chimichurri sauce, some lightly fried potato wedges and a giant grilled red pepper with an egg cooked right into it, and I'll be forced to cuddle afterwards.

This is actually our second time ordering the ribeye. It's just that good. We've also had the flank steak [vacio] and even ventured to dine on swine... matambrito con muzarela y tomates secas or in other words, a slab of pork covered in mozzerella cheese. Lipitor, here I come.

And Now, A Word From the Wifey...

I Can Eat Dairy!

Hmmm, I wonder if it's all in my mind, but I've been eating a ton of dairy, and you know, no emergencia numero dos! Whoa, I wonder if I'm lactose tolerant again or maybe I can eat dairy in the Southern Hemisphere cuz everything is turned upside down here.

Random Stuff:

Today, we visited the Palacio de la Aguas Corrientes. It's basically the water department, but the exterior is just beautiful.
If you see kids wearing white lab coats, it means they're students. It's also a sign of prestige. Interesting, huh?
There are always protestors here. We caught one in front of the Tribunales [the Supreme Court]. He ran up the stairs, was met by security, and ran back down. We dunno what he was protesting, but he wasn't wearing much. Maybe he's against clothing. Those crazy Argentines.

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Picture of the Day
Nekkid Protestor

Buenos Aires (Day 9): In Search of Fellow Yellows

2009-10-08T21:19:00.000-07:00

Since arriving, I can probably count on one hand the number of Asian people I've seen on the streets of Buenos Aires. Not including the gaggle of Taiwanese tourists we saw at the cemetery the other day, most of our rare Chinese spottings have been at laundromats or supermarkets. How typical, I know... but I swear, every mom & pop grocery store and launderette in our barrio is Chinese-run. Is there some natural universal law that says these are the only two things Chinese immigrants can do? WTF? But anyhoo, there definitely ARE Chinese people here...and ya know, we're like ants... if you see one, there's gotta be more. C'mon, we gotta congregate somewhere, right?

Apparently, there is a Chinatown in Buenos Aires... we just have to find the ant hill. So, we head out to this mysterious Barrio Chino in search of our elusive Fellow Yellows. As it turns out, el tong yun fau is only a few metro stops away in a nice barrio called Belgrano. This is just proof positive that our yellow brethren are everywhere... cuz I can pretty much guarantee that there's no Argentinetown in China.

The funny thing is, Chinatown is right across the train tracks, but crossing over to it is like crossing the border to an alternate universe. Kinda like going from San Diego to TJ, but weirder. You know how in cities like SF or NYC, the closer you get to Chinatown, the more Chinese people or stuff you'll see? Well, here it's total culture shock once you pass the tracks, like entering a bubble. All of a sudden, there are Chinese shops, Chinese restaurants, smelly Chinese markets, and an old Chinese dude flinging snot from his nose. Ok, maybe not the last part, but you get what I mean. It's as if the Argentines erected a force field where you can go in, but you'll get zapped as soon as you try to come back out.

We figure as long as we got through the chink-shield, we'll have a looksy around... but the whole place feels kinda surreal to us. It looks just like any other Chinatown, complete with your standard dragon gate and random people who look like they could be your fobby relatives. But everything's in Spanish... and Chinese. Great, here's two languages I can't read. Plus, they seem to speak some kinda weird dialect here. Maybe it's just Mandarin with a Spanish accent... or Spanish with a Mandarin accent. Either way, we can't understand any of it. We thought that by coming here we'd feel a little less alienated, that we'd find comfort in being with our own kind. Quite the contrary. I really don't know what to make of this place, other than we've entered into some Twilight Zone. Picture this: imagine being in the middle of Chinatown at home. Now imagine that the only language you can understand is French. What's that make you? The only French-only speaking chink in Chinatown. That's us, here. Friggin Twilight Zone. I'm just hoping we don't get zapped by the chink-shield on the way out.

Wait, lemme drink some herbal tea first.

And Now, A Word From the Wifey...

Numero 30 Stocktono
Everywhere we travel in the world, we find ourselves heading towards Chinatowns for a visit. I don't think it's a need to be with other Chinese people, but more of a curiosity of what other Chinese people around the world are like. Buenos Aires' Chinatown is pretty surreal. Everything is just like the rest of Buenos Aires in the barrio of Belgrano. Actually, it's a really nice residential area. But, once you cross a set of train tracks, BAM, there's ah moos shopping with little pink plastic bags. It's just like at home, but not. Things are all written in Chinese and Spanish (great, we can't read either). And shopowners speak Spanish with a Chinese accent. When people speak Chinese, we're not quite sure what they are speaking. It's not really Mandarin, and it's not Cantonese either. Maybe they have their own form of Chinese here.

They have a bunch of kitschy tourist shops with the same crap that the stores on Grant Avenue sell at home. Damn, do Chinese people push the same slippers, fake toys, and snap bombs things all over the world? Apparently, we do in Buenos Aires.

Random Stuff:

For lunch, we have a 3-course meal at Morelia near our apartment: a broccoli puree as an appetizer, chocolate mousse for dessert, and a pasta called sorrentino which looks like an overgrown tortellini stuffed with mozzerella and ham. All for around $10.
In Belgrano, there's a beautiful round church called Igelsia la Redunda, where we enjoy our ice cream on the patio. Yum.

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Picture of the Day
Salsa de Soja [Soy Sauce]

Buenos Aires (Day 8): Night at the Museum

2009-10-07T21:01:00.000-07:00

Being the cheap basterds that we are, we decide to visit the Museo de Arte Lation-americano de Buenos Aires (MALBA) on Wednesday when entry is 5 pesos ($1.60) instead of 15 pesos ($4). We go for a nice stroll to the museum passing through Buenos Aires's version of Central Park. When we arrive at the museum, we take in the beauty of the outside of the building. After a couple of photos, we enter the building and are awed by the entry foyer. It's airy and filled with natural light. But wait... something is "off". I can't quite put my finger on it, but then the hubby says, "I think they don't have electricity".

Ok, is it just me or do we seem to curse everyone in Buenos Aires? First, we totally screw the internet, electricity, and phone at the old apartment. Then we made our favorite waiter at our favorite restaurant drop a big plate of salad. And, now we managed to suck the electricity out of a whole museum? Wow, that's strong voodoo.

Well, we're all the way here... electricity or not, we're going in when it's 10 pesos less! This is the first time that we've ever gone through a museum in the dark. Some of the pieces like Antonio Berni's Manifestacion are haunting and devastatingly beautiful in the dark. Others, we just couldn't see. After we went through the museum once, the lights finally flicker back on. We go through the museum again with the lights on, and we find that they have a pretty nice collection. Wow, we went through the museum twice... that's like only paying 2.5 pesos for each trip. Whoo hoo, even better.

And Now, a Word From the Hubby...

I can't see shit in this museum. I'd ask for my money back but that'll just be kinda silly making a fuss over a buck sixty. Oh well, it's almost worth it just to see Frida Kahlo's Autoretrato [Self-portrait]... with mustache and unibrow and all. The building itself is a work of art... though I don't think some of the works of art in the building are. Maybe it's just cuz I can't see jack. But who am I to judge?

So, who would've guessed that there's a Japanese Tea Garden here in Buenos Aires? Certainly not me. Are there even Japanese people here?? If so, I'm cravin' some ramen, dammit. The Jardin Japones, as it's called here, is a nicely manicured garden with a tranquil pond, arched bridges, and even a rock garden... typical Japanese botanical fare, a serene little oasis to escape from the noise and pollution of the city. The only thing missing? Japanese people. Though... I guess the ticket agent at the entrance was Japanese, so in a way, he kinda legitimizes the place. But being the only people of Asian descent in the actual garden, the wifey and I most certainly give this place a sense of authenticity. I'm just wondering when someone will ask to take a picture with us. Jardin Japones con "Japones" people. So AUTH!

Random Stuff:

We stumble onto a Carrefour... it's like the Walmart of France. The last time we were in a Carrefour was in Shanghai. We love this place... almost as much as that other French place, Tar-jay.
Dinner at Las Cabras, a parilla [grill] where we order up a ton of meat and wash it all down with fries. There goes my cholestrol.

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Picture of the Day
Plaza San Martin

Buenos Aires (Day 7): A Day in Microcentro

2009-10-06T21:02:00.000-07:00

We just made our way over to Microcentro, Buenos Aires's financial district, and we're standing in the middle of the widest street in the world. Back in the 1930's, someone decided to cut a 460-ft wide swath right through the city in order to alleviate traffic. Thus was born Avenida 9 de Julio (July 9 is their July 4), a monster of a thoroughfare that holds 18 ridiculous lanes of traffic. To cross the street, you basically have to wait for three lights... or you can do it in 2 if you sprint really really fast, but then you run the risk of becoming Buenos Aires roadkill.

The wifey and I think better of it and stop at the median, where smack dab in the middle of the world's widest street is El Obelisco... a giant phallic symbol?? Nah, it's a twenty story monument built to commemorate the 400th anniversary of the founding of the city... but they did manage to wrap a giant pink condom around it to celebrate World AIDS day back in 2005. Funny. Hope they remembered to squeeze the tip. It's a pretty grand sight, actually, to see all the activity going on in the area. Kinda reminds me of Times Square... with a giant penis.

As we make our way up Calle Florida, a pedestrianized shopping street, we're bombarded on both sides with the hard sell coming from what look like used car salesman wannabes trying to get us into their stores. "Konichiwa! Want to buy some leather? We give you good price!" Ugh. I think it's best to walk in the middle of the road and not make eye contact, especially when the store's name is Maybe Leather and Fur. Kinda brings doubt to the whole sale, don'tcha think? The interesting thing is though, Calle Florida is just like any other pedestrian street we've encountered around the world... a bunch of people selling the same stuff. In this case, lots of leather goods, mate cups, and t-shirts. The chance to people watch is awesome, though.

We find refuge, however, in the the Gallerias Pacifico, a beautiful century old landmark building converted into a high-end shopping mall. I dunno what it is, but there's always something comforting about being in a mall. Perhaps it's being in a foreign country or not being able to speak the language that makes us long for something familiar. An group of Chinese tourists walk by us and we hear a tiny semblance of Cantonese. Ahh, sometimes it's just nice to hear a familiar sound.

Random Stuff:

The Argentines are still bitter about the Falkland Island War with the UK back in the 80's. So much so that they renamed everything British to something more Argentine. So as we're admiring the British Clocktower, we're wondering if we should be calling it the Clocktower Formerly Known as the British Clocktower.
Enjoying an alfajores at Plaza San Martin. Alfajores are cookie-like snackies filled with dulce de leche. Yum.
On Avenida 9 de Julio, there was a human billboard. This guy held up an advertising sign in front of the stopped cars during a red light. When the light turned green, he walked back to the corner. Talk about getting in your face.

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Pictures of the Day
Human Billboard

Argentine Flag

Buenos Aires (Day 6): Would You Like That Supersized?

2009-10-05T17:54:00.000-07:00

Today was the big showdown with our landlord. Damn, what happened to all those tenant rights we have in San Francisco? The concierge from the company we rented the apartment from, the apartment owner, and the two of us agreed to meet at the apartment at 4:30pm to discuss our moving out.

Before the meeting, Johnny and I decided "Ok, stand firm. We want out; we want our stolen $350 back; and we're not leaving without our money!" When the meeting started, everything was going well. The concierge was airing our grievences to the apartment owner, and there were a lot of grievences: no internet, no electricity, no phone, and the topper: $350 stolen.

The apartment owner then made us an offer we couldn't refuse. He said he'd move into our current apartment and we can move into his place 4 blocks away. But, the conditions are that all would be forgiven, including our stolen $350. The owner is an interior designer and he showed us pictures of his suped up apartment. Damn, of course we're going to take that.

We totally walked into the meeting expecting to get the hell out of Dodge, but in the end we wound up with a totally bad ass apartment at an additional cost of $350. Well, at least we finally have reliable internet access! That's worth $350 to me already.

And Now, A Word From the Hubby...

Yeah, I wasn't too thrilled about taking over dude's apartment. I mean, that's just kinda weird, right? I wasn't really cool with it... that is, until he showed us his pictures. The apartment is fabulously decorated, like only a gay Argentine man could. Umm... ok. Yes, please. I'll take it. Hey, he seemed okay with it... plus he said he just moved in three weeks ago so it's brand new. The place is like a model home showroom, a designer's (or Chandan's) wet dream. I'm almost expecting an sales agent to barge in with clients while I'm sitting here in my fluffy slippers and pajamas. Hey, you never know what might happen... the vacation's still young.

Anyhoo, we spent the afternoon trying to take our minds off the impending showdown by strolling down one of Buenos Aires's grandest boulevards. Avenida de Mayo was designed to rival Paris's Champ Elysées and runs 13 blocks from the Casa Rosado (the Pink House) to the Plaza Congresso, thereby symbolically linking the executive and legislative branches of government. Neat, huh? Sorry Agentina, it's nowhere near as awesome as the Champ Elysées, but it's still pretty cool with all the Belle Epoque, Art Neouveau, and Art Deco facades that line the street. For a second, you really do feel like you're in Paris. Muy magnifique!

Random Stuff:

We take our dirty clothes down to the laundry mat run by an old Chinese lady. I think she tried to speak Mandarin to us, but we just ended up speaking sign language and Spanish. For only 10 pesos (about $3), we got our laundry washed and folded. Now my undies smell fancy fresh!
Taking the old classic trains on the A-line. These trains have been in use for like 100 years.
More steak dinner at Miranda. This time, ribeye... omg, hella good.
In the new apartment, there's an automatic squirt air freshener. It goes ppsshtt every 5 minutes and kinda smells like a smelly Euro dude.
Feliz Cumpleaños, la Priscilla!

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Picture of the Day
Nacional Congreso

Buenos Aires (Day 5): Prime Eternal Real Estate

2009-10-04T00:35:00.000-07:00

In an effort to get our minds off of this whole robbery thing, we decide to spend the day at... a cemetery? Perhaps it's to remind ourselves that, "Hey, we only got robbed... at least we didn't get killed and hacked to a million pieces." Hmm, I guess that's rather morbid. Actually, we're making our way down to the weekend arts and crafts fair at Plaza Francia when we kinda stumble into the Cementerio de la Recoleta. Yeah, kinda like in the Thriller video, except without the zombies. Anyhoo, the fair is crowded and filled with a bunch of Argentine hippies selling Argentine hippie arts and crafts. Ehh, I've seen enough hippies in Berkeley, so... off to the graveyard!

This exclusive cemetery is the final resting place of many famous Argentines, including Eva Peron. To stroll through the cemetery's narrow pathways is to enter a labyrinth of a different world. Think: New Orleans cemeteries on steroids. The place is filled with crypts and vaults lined side-by-side like houses on a city street. In fact, some look just like houses with their elaborate front doors; some look like store fronts with clear windows so you can see the caskets; some look like mini churches; some like Greek temples; and one looks just like a Gucci store... at least that's what it looks like to me. All, though, are undeniably beautiful works of art.

While we're there, the wifey does make a keen observation... that there sure are a whole lot of people named "PAX."
"It's on a ton of tombstones!" she says.
"I think that means 'peace'" I reply. "That's like going to a cemetery back home and saying, dang, there's a lot of people named RIP."
She's not amused. I slightly am, though.

She also makes another observation... there sure are a whole lot of Asian tourists here. We haven't seen another fellow yellow in like a week, and now we see a whole gaggle of them. Is this where we hangout on the weekends? Apparently so.

Random Stuff:

There are living residents all over the cemetery -- cats!
We stop by the Floralis Generica, a giant metal work of art shaped like a flower that "blossoms" throughout the day. Purty.
In front of the zoo, there are dudes dressed up in Barney outfits selling balloons. Here, they're mobbed by kids. Back home, they might get their asses kicked.
The Argentine answer to Italian gelato is called helados. It's not as smooth as gelato, but the dulce de leche is like ice cream heaven.
We're kinda freaked out by the whole robbery thing, so we're sleeping with protection [that sounds dirty]. I've got a cleaver and she's got a poker. If we get attacked, I can scream, "Jom say nay!" and she can shout, "Dook say nay!"

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Pictures of the Day
Floralis Generica

What's Wrong With This Picture?

Buenos Aires (Day 4): Playing Clue

2009-10-03T20:51:00.000-07:00

When we arrived in Buenos Aires our host told us that there is a safe in the apartment for storing our documents and cash in. When he told us this, there were 3 additional people in the room: the maid, the guy who is renting us a cell phone, and the concierge from the company we rented the apartment from.

This morning, I went to check the "safe", and of the $595USD I placed in there Wednesday morning, there was only $245USD left. I was taken aback, and asked Johnny if he had removed any of the cash. But, of course he hadn't...I was the only one with the key. Plus, neither of us had a reason to use US dollars the past couple of days. Which leaves only one possibility: We's been robbed!!!

We've been dealing with this little gem all day, and to keep us sane and to make the most of a bad situation, we've decided to turn it into a little game of Clue.

Timeline: Between Wed, 09/20 11:00am to Sat, 10/3 12:00pm
Suspects:

The Americans: maybe we're just lying and there is no money missing
The Owner: he has a key to the place
The Maid: she also has a key to the place
The Cell Phone Guy: he was shady looking and shifted a lot
The Concierge: he had slicked back hair and a big tattoo
The Neighbor: A neighbor helped us get into an electric box, and he had a key he wasn't suppose to have
The Argentine PG&E Guy: he was here to fix our electric problem
The Ghost of the Spider: I always try to save spiders. Yesterday, we saw a spider and instead of killing it, we place it in a coke bottle so that we could set him free this morning. When I found him, he had drowned in Coke. Maybe the spider is mad at me.

If only I could open up that little envelope and find out who did it, where, and with what instrument.

And Now, A Word From the Hubby...
If I don't get my tree hundred and fitty bucks back soon, the cards in that envelop are gonna read... Pissed off Chinaman, with foot, up some Argentine's ass!

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Picture of the Day
Buenos Aires Hooters!

Buenos Aires (Day 3): Sipping the Maté

2009-10-02T20:49:00.000-07:00

Did you know that for the first half of the 20th century, Argentina was one of the wealthiest countries in the world? You'd never know it with the Peso being as weak as it is now. But taking a look around Plaza de Mayo, the city's main plaza, we can see evidence of such wealth in the old grand and opulent buildings that line the streets. There are neo-classical, Greek revival, and Spanish colonial style buildings all around us, and we're sitting right in the middle of it all... people-watching while enjoying our empasadas and trying our best to look like locals, or porteños as they call themselves here. Unlike in China though, we obviously have no hope of blending in as porteños. But that's not gonna stop us from trying.

There's nothing more porteño than riding the metro, or the Subte as they call it here. It gets pretty busy and we somehow manage to purchase a 10-ride ticket from the station agent without much ado. At $1.10 pesos a ride (about 29 cents), it's quite a bargain. Funny thing is, some lady comes up to us and asks for directions in Spanish. For some reason everywhere we go, people always seem to ask us for directions... maybe we just look like we know where we're going. But here? Really? C'mon lady, in a city of 18 million Argentines you ask the two chinks with no clue? Really? I think she figures out her mistake by the looks on our faces. Maybe we do look like porteños afterall.

Personally, I think a big part of the fun of coming to a foreign place is trying to figure out our bearings. The whole point is to be out of our comfort zone... and to someday say, "What the hell were we thinking??"

Case in point: drinking maté. Apparently, it's an Argentine pastime to be drinking this bitter tea from Uruguay. Go figure. They love it here and it's usually sipped from a gourd shaped cup with a metal straw and passed around the table... kinda like smoking and passing the crack pipe around your group of buddies. The friendly waiter was kind enough to show us the ropes and give us a crash course in maté 101. It's bitter as heck and kinda tastes like feet. Ok, I exaggerate, but it's definitely an acquired taste... but if you drench it with sugar, it's not too bad. Sitting in the patio of a 200-year-old historic building called the Cabildo sipping a cup of maté. How Argentine of us.

And Now, a Word From the Wifey...

The Pink House
If I ever became the President of a country (hey, it could happen), then I'd have a place like the Casa Rosada. Not only do they paint it pink...but at night, they light it up with bright neon pink lights. It's like the Barbie Dream House on steroids and with real working lights. I can't stop staring at it.

Oh yeah, and Eva Peron gave her famous speeches from the balcony.

Random Stuff:

The food here is cheap and hella good, especially during their version of "happy hour" which is from like 4pm to 8:30pm. The dinner crowd doesn't start coming in until 9pm at the earliest. Works for us.
We order a tasty pollo [chicken] dish at Cafe la Puerto Rico, restaurant with lots of charm and old friendly waiters. Té con leche [tea with milk] is excellent.
At La Catedral Metropolitana, we just happened to be there during the changing of the guard. The guards are stoic, just like in the UK... which makes for great pictures! (see below)

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Picture of the Day
Smile, Mr. Happy!

Buenos Aires (Day 2): Navigating the Palermo Minefields

2009-10-01T19:54:00.000-07:00

We're staying in the barrio [neighborhood] called Palermo, an up-and-coming area of Buenos Aires reminiscent of Union Street in SF or Soho in NYC. The neighborhood is filled with fancy and unique designer boutiques, trendy restaurants, and hipster hangouts. Anna and Damon or Chandan would feel right at home here. It's a cool place to see and be seen.

However, there are dangers abound in this seemingly safe neighborhood. Minefields. Not the kind that explodes from the ground and blows you to pieces, but the kind that explodes from a dog's ass and often comes in pieces. Yeah, there's dog turd all over the place... not only are there whole logs, but there's hella stepped-on poop, smudged and spread out like chunks of peanut butter on toast... a product of an unfortunate causality of inattentive walking. One needs to carefully navigate these Palermo minefields, or as the wifey likes to call it, Do the Palermo Hop... cuz we're constantly hopping and dodging dog-logs like a couple of crazy ballerinas. Argentina is famous for the Tango. Tango? Pssht... try doing the Palermo Hop at night! The crappy thing is (no pun intended) that I'm probably gonna step on some before this day is up. Awesome factor: -3.

Snackie discovery! Like Christopher Columbus, we discovered a local snackie cake called an empasada. It's basically like a Hot Pocket but 10 times better, our favorite being the beef, eggs, and spices baked into a flaky crust. The guy at the local bakery was a nice fella who seemed rather amused at my pseudo-Spanish of "Dos of that one, por favor." Hey, for three pesos (less than a dollar), it's a steal... and I'm perfectly willing to humiliate myself all over again for another one.

Random Stuff:

So we're having dinner at this pizza joint called Chiara. BTW, the pizza here is hella good, rivaling that of Italy. The fugazetta is delicious. Anyhoo, there's a huge party there with a nun and and like 50 teenagers (I know, sounds like a bad joke... a nun and a bunch of kids walk into an Argentine pizza joint...). They all have their eyes locked on the restaurant's TV. They're watching some American Idol-like show and they're cheering loudly when it starts. Wow, hardcore fans, I'm thinking. Then suddenly, the nun that's sitting at the end of the table appears on TV and she's singing some song! Everyone's cheering in Spanish and the place goes wild. I guess they were all in the studio audience and had come here to watch the show. Hella random ass shit.
I love the radio station here. 103.2FM. Hella obscure 80's songs that I haven't heard since the 5th grade. I wish they had this at home.
Shopping at an Argentine supermarket called Coto for groceries and supplies. I love seeing all the different brands of stuff.

A Word From the Wifey:

Hola Amigos y Familia!
Whoa, me thinkas me speako Espanol, but me Espanol is as bueno as me Mandarino. The only Spanish I know I learned from the song Mentirosa by Mellow Man Ace. But unless I want to call someone a liar or a Skeeza, then it's not really much use.

We arrived in Buenos Aires yesterday, and the only thing that's put a hamper on our delirious happiness is the fact that we didn't have electricity in the apartment until about 8 hours after we arrived, we didn't get our phone working until a couple of hours ago, and we still don't have internet yet. The apartment owner had promised to fix all this stuff yesterday - what a mentirosa!!!

Buenos Aires is a big city with a lot of different neighborhoods called barrios. We are staying in the barrio of Palermo which has a lot of cute restaurants and shops. There are also a lot of dog lovers who live in this hood, but apparently none of them are dog-poop-picking-up lovers, so there's dog crap all over. The hubby and I have almost stepped onto dog poop so many times, only to avoid/jump over it at the last moment. We coined the term "Palermo Hop" to describe this little move.

Here are some of my observations of Buenos Aires so far:

No one uses Kleenex here, we were looking for a box at the supermarket and it was crazy expensive (probably because they only sell 2 boxes a year).
People don't clean up after their dogs.
There are very few Asians here, and they all own little grocery stores.
Portions are HUGE. The hubby and I shared a steak and they gave us 2 giant pieces that we couldn't finish.
People eat dinner really late here. We walked into an empty restaurant at 8:45pm, and it was full by 10:00pm.
The dulce de leche here is out of this world.
The pizza here is pretty darn good too - apparently there are a lot of Italian immigrants here.
The damn bugs here like to bite me as much as they do in Asia.
Argentines don't recycle.
People don't give a flying squirrel about fire hazards here. Our apartment door requires a key to open from the inside (great for security, terrible in case of fire.) We've been too nervous to start the fireplace because of this.
There are these awesome outdoor shutters that we put down at night. They are great for insulation and keeps the apartment so warm.
Very few people speak English here, but everyone listens to American music. So far, we've heard Curtis Blow, The Bee Gees, Culture Club, Duran Duran and Divinyls. As I'm writing this, James Taylor's Handy Man is playing on the radio.
There are traffic lights at some intersections, but no pedestrian lights. So, to see if it's ok to cross, we have to make sure the opposing traffic has a red light.
Both of us find that we almost say "arigato" to everyone instead of "gracias".
In China, we can kinda almost understand what people are saying in Mandarin because we speak Cantonese. In Argentina, we can kinda almost understand what is in writing because we can read English. We don't exactly know which is more useful.

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Picture of the Day
They're Muy Bueno!

Buenos Aires (Day 1): American Standards

2009-09-30T19:43:00.000-07:00

It's a long flight to Buenos Aires. Ten hours. But flying over the Isthmus of Panama, seeing tropical lightning storms from above the clouds, and waking up to a glorious sunrise over the Andes Mountains make it all worth while. Kinda makes me wanna have a chocolate mint. Argentina from above looks very green... I guess there's nothing but farmland out here. Maybe that's why Buenos Aires literally translates to mean "good air." The city is also known as the "New York of the South"... and if there's any truth to that, then I'm not sure how "good" the air is gonna be. Actually, I'm not really sure what to expect here. We didn't really do much research. And other than one semester of high school Spanish and asking our Mexican friend to teach us some Spanish cuss words, we definitely don't speak the language. All I know is we rented a fabulous apartment and a driver to get us there. Ehh, I guess we'll just wing it. [shrug]

Coming out of customs, we see a guy holding a sign with the wifey's name on it: Wifey of Leisure. JK. Yeah baby, there's our ride! So the guy leads us to the pick up area and makes a call on his walkie talkie. I'm expecting a posh limo to pull up and take us to our luxurious apartment. So we're waiting for like 10 minutes and out comes NOT a stretch limo and a chauffer, but some random looking kid in an unmarked, compact VW. Oookay... I guess this is our ride. We take a leap of faith and trust that he's not gonna kill us. The whole ride, the wifey and I whisper under our breaths about when he's gonna pull a knife on us in Chinese (which is kinda ridiculous now that I think about it since dude doesn't even understand English, much less Chinese). Anyway, how bad can he be? He's playing Culture Club on the radio. Maybe I should be scared.

An hour later, we arrive at our apartment alive and well. The landlord is there to greet us, but the place is kinda old and dumpy -- not at all like the pictures on the website. The paint is chipping, the furniture looks worn, and the bathroom is tiny. WTF? Where's my fab place?? I dunno if I can deal with this for a month. And just as we're starting to doubt whether or not this trip was such a good idea, it dawns on us that perhaps we're just spoiled by our unrealistic, uppity American standards. Could that possibly be it? That our driver had absolutely no intentions of stabbing us to death... or that our apartment would make any average Argentine drool? Spoiled are we? Probably.

So having changed our mindset, we're gonna give this place a chance... though some electricity, internet, or phone service would be nice. To make a longer story less long, 8 hours into our stay, nothing was turned on yet, the owner dude wasn't around, and I had to deal directly with an Argentine version of a PG&E guy who spoke only Spanish... at least his butt crack wasn't showing. Anyhoo, through the extreme kindness of a random neighbor, we get our power on because he totally goes out of his way to translate and help me out of my dilemma. Helping a random stranger. You don't get much of that in the states... nor do we expect it. Another trait of a spoiled American? Unfortunate, but probably. I think I just might like it here.

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Picture of the Day
Dulce de Leche Pancakes

Buenos Aires (Day 0): Airport Activities

2009-09-29T19:30:00.000-07:00

So we're checking in our baggage at SFO, and the agent behind the counter looks at our boarding pass and says to us, "Buenos noches!" The wifey and I are like, "huh?" Ok, I guess we are going to Argentina. I think that means good evening or something, in like, Mexican. Great, we don't even know the basics of the language. Maybe I shoulda listened to that Learn Spanish CD I had borrowed from the library... or at least bought a Spanish phrasebook. Oh well, this trip ought to be interesting. Heh.

Anyhoo, on our 21-hour journey to Buenos Aires, we have a 5-hour layover in Houston. Which leads me to wonder what the hell are we gonna do at the Houston airport for 5 hours? Well, we keep ourselves busy by checking out the cheesy Texas gift shops, reading magazines at Borders, admiring the airport NASA exhibit, and... oh, collecting abandoned luggage carts. You know, those luggage carts that you can rent for like 4 bucks so you can lug your luggage around? Yeah, they're just lying all over the place... plus the cart machine thingy spits out a quarter for every cart that's returned to it. Man, that's just free money. That's like getting your CRV back for 5 whole cans! I'm like the old Chinese lady of the Houston airport! Instead of picking up cans, I'm picking up carts. I just made 75 cents, baby!

Random stuff:

Houston's airport is called George Bush International Airport. Bush Senior I'm assuming. I forget we're in Texas.

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New York City (Day 12): It All Came Down to the Poop

2009-05-30T16:14:00.000-07:00

We just missed our flight. Ok, so maybe I shouldn't have said anything in the last blog entry. Maybe I jinxed us... if only we had gotten here 5 minutes earlier. It's 5:35pm and our flight takes off at 6pm, but they won't let us on the plane cuz we just missed the 30-minute cutoff. It all came down to a matter of minutes, and these Newark United agents are a bunch of asses. Don't they know we're Premier members?? Or does that only work for Cindy? Damn. Speaking of whom, we shoved on the crowded subway train this morning, thereby probably contaminating all of New York City with her sick germy germs. So Cin basically came to NYC, got sick, slept for 48 hours, then left. Her "free" ticket ended up costing her $500 and whole lotta grief. Poor girl. Ah, we still love her though. Germs and all. Kinda.

So anyhoo, it all came down to a matter of minutes. Five minutes. Maybe we shouldn't have gone out to Chinatown earlier today for those yummy spongecakes at Kam Hing. Or maybe we shouldn't have had such a long lunch of hella good wunton noodles at Noodle Village. Perhaps we should've skipped the cupcakes at Crumb. But these activities were all part of the plan... we made time for this. What we didn't plan for was my unexpected bathroom break, my sudden number 2. Hey, I couldn't help it. It just kinda snuck up on me. Oh like that's never happened to you! Pssht. Anyway, our trip to Newark International was hella convoluted... waiting for the E train, then transferring to the PATH train, then transferring to the NJ Transit, then getting on a slow ass elevator, and then hopping on the air train to the terminal. I'm sure there's an easier way of getting here. Five more minutes. That's all we needed. My poop did us in. It all came down to the poop.

Random Stuff:

So the next flight is at 6am. Luckily, one of my cousins lives in NJ and he sweeps us up from the airport and we spend the night at his place. Sucks that he has to drive us back here at 4am. Nice to hangout with him and his family though.
We heart NY.

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Picture of the Day
Fried Mon Tow with Condensed Milk

New York City (Day 11): The Exorcism of Cindy L.

2009-05-29T03:50:00.000-07:00

"Uggh... Gimme 10 hours and I'll call you back..."

Ten hours? WTF? People usually say something like I'll call you back in 10 minutes... but I guess our dear friend Cindy needs a little more time because, ugh, she still sick as a dawg. If I could, I'd hermetically seal her in her room and put up a sign that reads, "Do not open until doomsday." I mean, for the sake of humanity and all.

Fortunately (or unfortunately), it's not up to me. And apparently, doomsday arrives in 10 hours cuz we're gonna break that seal and risk life and lung to deliver the poor girl some sustenance. I guess it would be nice if we brought her some food. So, with Au Bon Pain soup, a big ass bottle of Gatorade, and a can of ginger ale in hand, we venture into the chamber of death... and I swear, it's like a scene out of a horror movie. She's laying there in the middle of the bed, head slouched over, mattress half off the box spring, her voice channeling her inner Beelzebub. All the while, I'm thinking... man, this ain't swine flu... it's demon possession! I'm just waiting for her head to spin around 360 degrees. For the love of god, I need to douse her with some holy water and exclaim, "Begone, demon! Begone, demon! Begone, demon!" Oh wait. This is Gatorade... oops.

Random Stuff:

Lunch at out favorite place for pancakes, Clinton Street Baking Company. Blueberry pancakes... mmmm.
Checking out the transit museum at Grand Central Station.
Tonight is the last night of Leno.
Today can pretty much be called the day of missing stuff. We woke up too late to watch the real Lionel Richie performing for free in Central Park. We missed Prince Harry at the WTC. And we end up missing free night at the MOMA. Damn. Maybe we'll miss our flight tomorrow... yeah, right.

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Picture of the Day
Dinner at Aquagrill

New York City (Day 10): Something Wicked This Way Comes

2009-05-28T13:30:00.000-07:00

Ever since becoming Man & Wifey of Leisure, we've been kinda dreading the weekends. I used to think, "Woo hoo, it's Friday!" Now I tend to sulk, "Shit. It's Friday." Things are crowded on the weekends... kids are out of school, people are off of work, and shops close early. It's kind of a downer, really. That's why instead of celebrating TGIF tomorrow, we're celebrating TGInF (Thank God It's not Friday) today!

It's empty here in the Sheep Meadow, a stark contrast to when we were here last Saturday when it was chock-full of weekend park dwellers. It's kind of amazing actually... we're sitting here in the middle of an urban oasis, a vast open space amidst a crowded city of more than 8 million people, enjoying our picnic of chocolate twists, cinnamon sticky buns, and rosemary bread loaves from Amy's Bread (another Andrew recommendation). Mmmm, carbs. This is why we love the weekdays... it's all about being able to have a quiet picnic in the park, taking a leisurely stroll along the Mall, exploring Belvedere Castle, and soaking up the scenery by the Jackie O Reservoir. How often can you have Central Park all to yourselves? Ahh, the life of leisure...

... or maybe this is just the calm before the storm. The "storm" being our dear friend Cindy, who at the last minute, decides to join us on the final leg of our little foray into the Big Apple because she somehow scored a free plane ticket. She arrives without a hitch, but 10 minutes after checking into her hotel room, she's feeling a bit under the weather. Ok, that's an understatement. She's hella sick. I mean like hella, hella sick. She's coughing up a lung, and things are coming out of her nose that really shouldn't be coming out of anyone's nose. Ugh. She claims to have caught a bug on the plane, but I'm thinking she was already sick before she left but couldn't pass up the free plane ticket. Right, Cin?

Anyway, we head down to the nearest Duane Reade for some much needed meds. Hmm... this feels just like Shanghai all over again. At least they speak English here. So she pumps herself up with drugs and is pretty much knocked-the-f*ck-out the whole night. Meanwhile, as we leave her for dead, the wifey and I grab red velvet cupcakes at Crumb, do some evening shopping at UNIQLO, and pick up dinner from the Halal cart at 53rd & 6th. All in all, it's a pretty good night. What? Oh come now... of course we check in on our dear friend to make sure she's still alive. Here's how it goes...

Wifey calls her room.
Ring, ring.
Cin: ...Heelllloooo?...
Wifey: You asleep?
Cin: ...Yeeeesss...
Wifey: Want food?
Cin: ...Nooooooo...

So she's obviously still knocked-the-f*ck-out... but alive. Poor girl travels 3000 miles to NYC just to get sick. Well, as long as she's still breathing, we can enjoy our dinner while watching a double feature of Grease and Grease 2 in our room. I dunno what's worse, Cindy's swine flu or sitting through Grease 2. Just kill me now.

Random Stuff:

Stopping at the Guggenheim to take random artsy pics.
On the subway ride back to the hotel, there were 2 black guys singing Do Run Run on the train. They made us smile.

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Picture of the Day
Zero G on the E

New York City (Day 9): CA$H Cab!

2009-05-27T00:41:00.000-07:00

As we're taking an early evening stroll down 57th Street, after a long day of... well,...eating, the wifey spies out of the corner of her eye, a yellow minivan cab parked on the side of the street. The trunk door is wide open and the trunk itself is filled with what looks like expensive audio equipment... kinda like what you might find in the back of some FOB's lowered, suped-up Honda. The only difference is that instead of stickers that say "Mugen Power," this ride's got stickers that read "NYC Taxi." At least they got the color right.

Now, the only thing that comes to the wifey's mind is, "How they gonna fit anything in that trunk? Like luggage and stuff..." as though to suggest that some punk-kid cab driver is cruising around the city picking up unsuspecting passengers, making them hold their baggage on their laps, all the while pumping up the boomin' bass in the backseat. Hmm. Not quite. We don't realize the magnitude of our find until we hear some girl frantically screaming, "OMG, it's Cash Cab!" At which point, I turn around and scream, "OMG, it's Cash Cab!" like some frantic little girl.

For those of you unfamiliar with CA$H CAB, it's a show on the Discovery Channel. And, in the words of host Ben Bailey... "It's a TV gameshow that takes place right here in my cab. Here's how it works... I'm gonna drive you to your destination. I'm gonna ask you general knowledge questions along the way and you can win money until we get to your destination. But, here's the catch... if you get 3 wrong, that's 3 strikes, you're out. I'm gonna pull over and kick you out right on the spot and you lose everything. So what do you say? Do you wanna play??" Yes! I do wanna play, Ben. I do! Oh... umm... ahem. I'm a fan of the show, in case you couldn't tell.

Well, we don't get to play, but the friendly producer guy is nice enough to let us sit in it. No sign of Ben, but it's cool just to be in the cab. Besides, she's the star of the show anyway. The guy even turns on the blinky ceiling lights for us. Oooh, blinky lights. Awesome factor: 9.5.

Random Stuff:

We spend the afternoon across the river over in Brooklyn Heights. It's a quaint little area, but we're here for pizza and ice cream. Grimaldi's Pizzeria, with it's red checkerboard tablecloths and pictures of Frank Sinatra hanging all over their walls reminds me of something out of the Sopranos. The pizza is yummy. It's all about the cheese. The wifey and I scarf down a whole pie.
The Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory... ice cream with a view. Down the block from Grimaldi's along the promenade, this unassuming place is famous in NYC. The vanilla with chocolate chunks is hella good; the view of Manhattan and the Brooklyn Bridge makes it hella gooder. Gooder? [shrug]
The Brooklyn Bridge is old and rickety, and we can totally feel the vibrations of the cars zooming by below. A nice walk, nonetheless.
Crumb Bake Shop. Even though it's a chain, they have the best red velvet cupcakes. Yes, better than Magnolia's.
A healthy dinner of burgers and shakes at Shake Shack in Madison Square Park. The Shack Burger is tasty and the salty caramel frozen custard tastes exactly like it sounds... damn good. And the long lines at 10pm is proof of that. The place is kinda nice at night with Xmas lights strung from the trees... alfresco dining in the park with the Empire State Building as a backdrop. How romantic.

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Picture of the Day
Jumper on the Brooklyn Bridge!

I Guess I Won't be Idling

New York City (Day 8): A Day in Harlem

2009-05-26T00:07:00.000-07:00

As we're walking up 125th Street, the wifey asks, "Hey, if someone were to get mugged here, who would it be?"

"Ummm... us?" I warily reply.

Hmm... maybe that's not a good sign. We come to this realization as we're passing the Apollo Theater, which by the way, from the outside looks very plain and unassuming... unlike the ghetto glitz that you see on TV. Amateur Night is tomorrow, and dammit, we're a day early. Oh well. I guess we'll live... or not. It's with a sense of trepid caution that we venture up to this part of town, even as I'm skipping to the "it's showtime... at the Apollo!" tune that's buzzing in my head. Maybe I should stop. Or at least put away the camera.

Needless to say, the wifey and I kinda stand out a tiny bit, and it's not because of our strikingly good looks. I can honestly say I haven't seen a single Asian person since we got on the A-train in Midtown. Cuz you know, Asians are like locusts... we're everywhere. Except here. Which raises concerns cuz there's not a single blip on my chink-dar. But seriously though, how bad can it be? There's an Old Navy down the block and Bill Clinton's office is somewhere on this street. There's even a busload of white people here, albeit they're in the safety of an open-air tour bus and snapping pictures like they're on some kinda wild animal safari. Which begs me to ask, "Why aren't we on that bus?" Which then leads me to wonder, "Are we like those poor antelopes you see on Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom that always get run down and eaten by the lions?" Hmm.

Perhaps it's just a false sense of insecurity that's making us feel this way. The area reminds me much of the Mission District in SF... a little unwelcoming to the newbie, but definitely filled with character. The streets are lined with neat African stores, unique restaurants, and neighborhood barbershops, all with pictures of Barack Obama out front. To put it in layman's terms, it's like a Chinatown for Black people. I don't know how else to explain it, but I guess if I put it that way, it's somehow not as scary... or is it? Anyway, it's not like I'm gonna go up to someone and say, "Hey homie, help a yellow brutha out and take a picture of me and my woman on Malcolm X Street, will ya?" Right? C'mon, it ain't all that bad here.

So anyhoo, what brings us down to this part of town? What makes us risk life and limb, you might wonder? Chicken and waffles. Home style southern cuisine. Soul food. Amy Ruth's on West 116th Street is famous for it, and although it's not as hole-in-the-wally as some of the hole-in-the-wall places we just walked by, it's about as hole-in-the-wally as we're willing to get here. The last time we risked our lives for soul food was for Roscoe's in LA, where we were deterred by the sounds of gunfire. No rounds shot this time... only the sweet taste of smothered chicken, to-die-for waffles, cheesy grits and sweet potatoes. Yum. Someone please roll us home.

Random Stuff:

As we're walking out of Amy Ruth's, we see a German tourist holding a tour book and map looking lost. If someone were to get mugged here, who would it be? Probably him. Funny how you feel less vulnerable when you see someone more vulnerable than you. Ha. Sucker.
Just a couple of blocks over and up the hill is the ritzy Morningside Heights area and Columbia University... seems like a world away from Harlem, though it's just down the block.
We walk into the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, the 4th largest Christian church in the world spanning two football fields long with 12-story tall ceilings. Construction started in 1892 and it's still going on. It's actually pretty grand... very Euro-worthy.
Riddle me this: who's buried in Grant's Tomb? Ulysses S. Grant. Wrong! Not only is the dude on the fitty dolla bill buried there, but so is his wife, Julia. It's a nice monument/mausoleum kinda out in the middle of nowhere. Nice nonetheless.
Dinner at Redeye Grill near Carnegie Hall with my cousins. Good conversation, good company, good times.

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Picture of the Day
Malcolm X Street

New York City (Day 7): Tipping Lionel Richie

2009-05-25T01:11:00.000-07:00

Ahhh... there's nothing quite like the smell of urine in the morning. That unmistakable, effervescent aroma feels like daggers on my nasal passages as we're descending the steps down to the subway station. Though, it does kinda clear my sinuses... but not really in a good way. To enter a New York City subway station is to be attacked upon all your senses. Besides the yummy smells, there's also the sight of the throngs of people trying to get to work, the distinct sounds of rumbling train cars grinding over the tracks, and a heightened awareness of the position of your wallet... as in, whether or not it's still in your pocket.

Luckily, our pockets haven't been picked [yet], but the subway is definitely full of characters... some begging, some singing, some good, some bad, some rude, some mad, and some just plain weird. All, however, are undeniably entertaining. There's the Asian dude singing Hoobastank songs at the Port Authority station; the Goth chick belting out opera verses at the 86th Street station; the big black lady at 42nd Street doing her best Aretha... and nailing it; the old dude playing Spanish guitar on the C train; and the quirky white chick who sounds eerily like the lead singer of the Bangles singing 80's tunes from a karaoke box at 53rd and Lex. But by far, the best of the bunch was the guy at the Times Square station busting out his rendition of Lionel Richie's Still. There's just always something so jive-turkey-smooth about an old Lionel Richie song. Besides, the guy was so good that we thought he was lip-syncing to a recording... definitely deserving of the big 1-dollar bill the wifey tipped him. That's how we roll, baby.

Today's Good Eats:

Speaking of tips, we just got another two awesome ones from Andrew, our hedgefund/boiler-room-working nephew. Not for stocks, but for ice cream and mussels. Yum. No, not together... that would look like vomit. I'm talkin' il Laboratorio del Gelato, a hole in the wall on the Lower East Side scooping up some damn good gelato. Smooth as silk and with flavors like honey chestnut, amaretto, lavender, and earl grey, the place stirs up some fond memories of Florence, Italy. For dinner, Flex Mussels on the Upper East Side serves up steamed mussels by the bucket. The sauces are excellent, and the flavors reminded us of the mussels we had in Paris. Don't forget the fries. The wifey and I sat at the bar and munched on those tasty mollusks til closing. You know these places are good when you start comparing them to places in Europe. That sneaky little Andrew calls it right again.

Random Stuff:

We would've tipped Bangles chick, but she kinda copped an attitude about people not tipping her enough... so no big 1-dollar bill for her!
There's two breeds of subway "characters"... ones that do their thang at the station, and ones that kinda hijack the train. Once the doors close, they make their schpeel to the whole car, and like it or not, everyone is subjected to their singing, begging, or... I guess... marketing. Our favorite were the three "entrepreneurial" black kids making a killing selling candy for a buck on the E train. Kinda reminded me of that kid from Role Models.
We're laying out on a lawn chair on Broadway in the middle of Times Square. How cool is that?

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Video of the Day

Laying Out in Times Square

Picture of the Day
A Night at the Met

New York City (Day 6): Flushing Chinatown

2009-05-24T13:59:00.000-07:00

I'm afraid Cantonese could be a dying language. We're here in Flushing, Queens hanging around in the middle of Chinatown, but we'd might as well be somewhere in China. I mean the place feels like any other Chinatown... crowded, bustling, the smell of fish, and the sound of someone hacking up a loogie. Pretty normal. What's peculiar to me is that everyone's speaking Mandarin. Shi-shee-sher-shi-sher. How do you say "WTF?" in Guo Yu [Mandarin]? It's a bit alienating actually. Not being able to communicate here is a foreign concept to me, as if we're in China and not China-town. Maybe there are a lot of Taiwanese here, or maybe it's the FOBs from the mainland. Whatever it is, we need to put the village back in Chinatown. Where the hell is Cindy when you need her?

Anyhoo, other than the psuedo language barrier, the tong yun fau [Chinatown] here is pretty big. Bigger than in most cities... and Flushing is just kinda like a suburb really. I guess in the past 20 years or so, there's been an influx of Chinese people moving into the area... kinda like moving from SF Chinatown to the Richmond and Clement Street. You can still see remnants of the old neighborhood before Chinatown took over, like an old church next to the boba shop and an antiquated Macy's that now seems oddly out of place. I bet the white people were asking the same question... how do you say "WTF?" in Guo Yu?

So, my cousin is terrible with giving directions. We're on our way to his house for dinner and we just got on the #65 bus from Chinatown. We're carrying a bunch of groceries from the HK Supermarket and it's heavy. He tells us to look for the Walgreens on 73rd... we can't miss it and that's where we should get off. Ok. The bus zooms by 70th. We're on 71st... 72nd... no Walgreens in sight. 73nd... Hmm, not a good sign. Luckily, we see his wife hailing down the bus and we come screeching to a halt. What a lifesaver. Being lost in Queens isn't quite our idea of a good time. Though, seeing my 90-year old uncle and having a nice dinner and great conversation with my cousins most definitely is. The steak isn't bad either.

Random Stuff:

Au Bon Pain... we love this place. It's a chain, but it's not on the West Coast, so it might as well be a gourmet restaurant for us. It's kinda like Briazz in SF, serving up quick eats of freshly made salads, sandwiches, soups, and hella yummy baked goods. Unfortunately (or fortunately), they've been labeling everything with the number of calories next to it. Our favorites, the sweet cheese danish and the creme de fleur contain 380 and 490 calories, respectively. Not exactly health food, but so worth it.
Staying at the Midtown Courtyard is nice.

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Picture of the Day
My Cousin and His "GF"

New York City (Day 5): The Gentrification of 217 Mott Street

2009-05-23T15:17:00.000-07:00

We're near the outskirts of Chinatown by the boundaries of Little Italy and SoHo, and I'm standing at the front door of 217 Mott Street. Twenty-nine years ago, my parents brought me back, through these very doors, from the New York Infirmary and home for the very first time. Well, ok, maybe it was more like 36 years ago, but who's counting? Anyhoo, I spent the first three years of my childhood here and from what I can vaguely remember, the place was pretty much a dump. The whole thing is kinda a blur... but I do sorta remember a slanted hallway floor, a bathtub in the middle of the kitchen, my dad swatting a big ass flying cockroach, and my brother leaving an unflushed turd in the toilet. Ah, such fond memories... good times, good times.

Walking through these streets, I can just imagine a young immigrant Chinese family trying to make a better life for themselves. I can picture my mom dragging three kids through the snowy weather to mai sung [grocery shopping] in Chinatown, or my dad slaving away as a dim sum chef in some stuffy restaurant kitchen to make ends meet. Oh, the sacrifices my parents made for us. If only they could've hung out here for a few more decades or so, we could've been living just 3 blocks away from Christy Turlington. Damn them!

Anyway, what a difference 36 years makes. What was once a crowded, red brickwork tenement building on a gritty street in Little Italy is now a fancy city loft on a quaint, tree-lined block near SoHo. The dingy bar that used to occupy the ground floor is now a swanky clothing boutique. Instead of loud and dirty motorcyles, there are Beemers and Smart Cars parked outside. Instead of drunkards wandering the streets, waif-like models now wander the shops. Instead of an immigrant Chinese family living on the 2nd floor, there's now an... immigrant Chinese family living on the 2nd floor. Hmm... it seems the same people that moved in after us have been living here since we left. Sometimes it's nice to know that some things never change.

Random Stuff:

Today is the day of street fairs. We run into one on 3rd Avenue where vendors are selling pretty much the same stuff... 5 "I love NY" t-shirts for $10. What a steal. There's also a farmer's market at Union Square selling a bunch of green stuff. Another street fair on Mulberry Street in Little Italy is a bit more festive, complete with stands selling fried Oreos, carnival games, and a clown sitting in a dunk tank called "Soak the Bloke." Nice.
Admiring the Flatiron Building. The historic skyscraper is shaped like... you guessed it... a giant penis? No, a flatiron. Did you know that the building is only 6ft wide at it's narrowest point? Now you do. You're welcome.
Midtown Comics. A huge comic book store in midtown. 'Nuff said. I'm in heaven.

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Picture of the Day
4 Stories of Parked Cars

New York City (Day 4): Orgasmic Pizza

2009-05-22T09:00:00.000-07:00

As we're sitting in front of the New York Stock Exchange, I'm admiring the giant American flag draped over the columns of this neoclassical building. It's a powerful symbol of American capitalism. Yet, I can't help but notice the emptiness of the streets in front of it. I remember [pre-9/11] taking a tour of the exchange floor and the orderly chaos of all the suits coming in and out of the building. Now, Wall St. is closed to thru traffic and no one is allowed to pass the barricades posted outside the entrances. There's an old subway exit that used to let people out right in front of the exchange, a relic of days long gone. Perhaps one day they'll reopen the NYSE to the public. Until then, we'll just have to admire the armed guards from the outside.

Speaking of stocks, I'll always think of my nephew, Andrew, as that 11-year-old pipsqueak who came to visit us in SF years ago. Now, he's a 25-year-old pipsqueak who works for some hedge fund. Personally, the wifey and I think it's more like some boiler room, but he denies it. One thing we know for sure, though, the kid knows where to eat, and on our past 3 trips here, he's recommended what have become some of our favorite spots to dine in the city. Tonight is no exception.

We're smack dab in the middle of Greenwich Village at a place called Numero 28 enjoying some of the best pizza we've had since Italy. Seriously, this is some really good stuff... 18 inches of rectangular shaped heaven. A crispy, thin crust topped with mushrooms sauteed in truffle oil rosemary on one side and classic Margherita on the other. Mmm...mmm.. if my momma was here, I'd slap her silly. Yeah, it's that good. This place is run by two guys from Naples and it sorta has that run down, rustic look like you'd find on a side street in Rome. Throw in a friendly waitress with a thick Italian accent and you really do feel like you are in Italy. This one's a gem. 28 Carmine Street in the Village. Go there.

Anyhoo, it's a nice, warm Friday night and the Village is hoppin' with life. I can't think of a better way to soak it all in than by grabbing a bench at nearby Demo Square and enjoying a cup of ice cold gelato while people-watching the night away. It's just so... New York. I could do this all night.

Random Stuff:

Shopping at Filene's Basement and Century 21. These are two of our favorite discount stores in NYC. Filene's is like a Ross but much nicer and with better stuff. Century 21 is like Filene's but with even better stuff. It's like a shopper's wet dream. The wifey comes here for Gucci or Prada. I come here for... Kelly Hu. This is where I saw her last year. Maybe I'll bump into her again. Maybe.
Lunch at Good Enough to Eat for pancakes and corn beef hash.
We take a stroll along Amsterdam Street in the Upper West Side. Nice area... we'd totally live here.

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Picture of the Day
NYSE

Connecticut (Day 3): The 19th State

2009-05-21T07:45:00.000-07:00

Connecticut, the 19th state. Well... it's not THE 19th state, but it's MY 19th. In my quest to set foot on every state of this great nation, Connecticut has landed on the 19th slot. Unfortunately, there's not much to do or see here... or maybe I'm just not looking in the right place. We're somewhere near the capital city of Hartford in a suburban town called Manchester. We're tagging along with my cousins, Eddie and Ellen, and my nephew, Andrew, on this 2.5 hour road trip to... a strip mall? When they had asked us to join them up in Connecticut, we kinda pictured a day in a quaint New England town or some bad ass Woodbury Commons-like outlet mall. We got neither [other than an Omaha Steaks store, which is kinda interesting]. What we did get was quality time with my cousins... which is what we wanted anyway, so it's all good.

You know how they say the journey is half the fun? Well, driving up here with my 25 year-old, new-license-having, texting-while-driving nephew at the wheel is definitely an adventure, especially when we almost slam into the guy in front of us. No better way to get your heart rate going in the morning, I tell ya. So as I recover from near cardiac arrest, I begin to notice that the road to Connecticut is very green and the towns we pass are quite New Englandy... maybe cuz we're in New England.

I dunno if I'll ever get to all 50 states. I can't see myself willingly going to someplace like, say, Arkansas. But who knows? Nineteen down, thirty-one more to go.

Random Stuff:

We have dinner at this restaurant in Chinatown in Flushing, where they seem to serve everything with roasted garlic. The wifey loves garlic.
Two words: Duane Reade. It's like the New York version of a Walgreens. They're all over the place.

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Picture of the Day
Crispy Chicken With Roasted Garlic

New York City (Day 2): Pick Up The Pace

2009-05-20T22:49:00.000-07:00

"This stuff's made in... New York City!"
"New York City!!??"
"Get a rope."

Remember that commercial? You know, a bunch of cowboys torture some poor guy cuz the sauce he had was made in NYC? What's wrong with that? I think things are better made here. Well, maybe cuz I was made in New York City... and damn proud of it! It's nice to be back in the hometown [though SF will always be my home]. We're here for 12 days, and we have no plans whatsoever. Shop, eat, repeat. Shop, eat, repeat. Yep, that's about it. This is our third trip here in the past year, so we know the routine well.

It's kinda refreshing, actually. We need our dose of NYC every now and then. But, I do think I need to pick up the pace... and I'm not talking about some picante sauce either. The City has a certain pace to it and every time I come here, I need to re-adjust. I suppose it's not any different from the hustle and bustle of Shanghai or Tokyo, but here, people will verbally abuse you for moving too slow. In a city where the streetlight doesn't dictate whether or not you cross the street, where honking your horn will earn you a $350 ticket, and where flicking someone off is the norm, I need to walk a little faster, talk a little cruder, and act a little ruder. Here's how I look at it... it's not that New Yorkers are bad people... they're just in a perpetual rush. They don't have time for pleasantries, and they need to get to the point. What they're rushing to... I have no clue.

Anyhoo, we're crossing Canal Street on a red light and a car almost mows us over. "F*ck you, you f*ckin' f*ck!"

Ahh... I love New York.

Today's Good Eats:

Yakitori Taisho. 5 St. Marks Place. East Village.
I mentioned this place the last time we were in NYC, but I'll say it again. The joint is a total hole in the wall, but serves up the best yakitori this side of Japan. The chefs fry up pretty much anything on a stick, so try to get a seat by the bar, where the meat skewers go directly from grill to mouth. Yum. Get the chicken balls and the scallions. For some reason though, the food wasn't up to par with our last visit. Have we really been so spoiled by the food in Japan? I hope not. Maybe it's just an off-day.

The Dessert Truck. Corner of St. Marks Place and 3rd Ave. East Village.
This is literally a truck that dispenses yummy treats perfect for that after dinner sweet tooth. It's about a block from Yakatori Taisho, and there are only a few items on the menu and they run about $5 or $6 a piece. Today, we tried the Molten Dark Chocolate Cake and the Goat Cheese Cake, which was good but not as good this stupid overreacting lady led us to believe. Go for the Warm Chocolate Bread Pudding. That's the best thing on the menu... err... truck.

Random Stuff:

A sure sign of a tourist: standing at a red light when there are no cars coming.
Shopping at Soho... the wifey and I pick up some things at our favorite Japanese stores, Muji and UniQLO, which are both having a pretty good sale now! We also stop by TopShop (London clothing store), Pylonnes (cute Euro trinkets), and The Pearl River Mart (like a China Bazaar). Shop shop shop.

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Picture of the Day
Chinese Water Thermoses

New York City (Day 1): Iron Chef!

2009-05-19T21:33:00.000-07:00

In the words of the great Chairman Kaga...

"I summon the Iron Chefs! Masaharu Morimoto, Iron Chef Japanese will show us the culinary way. This time, we have chosen a rare ingredient for this heavyweight battle. [cue epic music] We unveil the ingredient! [cue more epic music] Bento Box!"

Look! It's Morimoto!

Ok, so it's not quite an epic culinary battle in Kitchen Stadium, but it's as close as we're gonna get. In fact, Iron Chef America is filmed right upstairs from Morimoto's, where we're having lunch. We're meeting Ed and a few of his friends here to test the culinary prowess of Mr. Iron Chef Japanese himself, Masaharu Morimoto. In a way, I guess we're like those celebrity Japanese judges on the show... except we're not Japanese nor are we celebrities, but we can sure as hell be totally judgemental... or just mental.

So for starters, we have the Tuna Pizza, which is basically tuna sashimi on a thin bread crust. Yum. We all order the Kobe beef bento box, which comes with sashimi, sushi, miso soup, tempura, a salad, and of course Kobe beef. I dunno... if I was a judge on American Idol, I'd have to do a Randy Jackson and say, "Yo dawg, it's just allright to me." But, today I'm more like a Japanese judge on Iron Chef, so I'll just have to say [in my best Japanese girly voice], "the dish tastes crunchy, yet feminine. heehee." I don't even know what that means, but it seems like what all the judges say.

It's kinda cool to see Morimoto just walking around the restaurant. He looks exactly like he does on TV... with the ponytail and all. And, the design and decor of the restaurant itself is totally modern and ultra chic. Other than that, the food wasn't as good as I expected, but maybe we've been spoiled by all the food we had in Japan. So... the final verdict? Who's cuisine reigns supreme?? I dunno... bring on that chubby Batali dude.

Ok, so we didn't get much sleep on the red eye flight over here. After lunch, we're full, sleepy, and about to pass the f*ck out. We can't make the trek back to our hotel, plus it's a gorgeous day... so, like a couple of drunk Chinese hobos that drank too much Vitasoy, the wifey and I stumble on over to the Sheep Meadow in Central Park, find a nice shady spot, and fall asleep right on the grass. Man, it's good to be unemployed and homeless and sleeping in the park.

Random Stuff:

Chelsea is a cute area. Lots of shops, restaurants, and just a good vibe. Chelsea Market with it's bakeries is cool.
Shopping at Filene's Basement for designer bargains and DSW for shoes by Union Square.
Bethesda Fountain in Central Park is nice. Hanging out by the Boat Pond to watch the model boats float by is even nicer.
There's a creepy lady taking pics of people laying out on the Sheep Meadow. She probably got one of us. Eww.
Dinner at the Halal cart on 53rd and 6th. This place is ALWAYS good!

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Picture of the Day
Rockefeller Center

Sydney (Day 9): Borat and the Blacks of Australia

2009-04-27T20:13:00.000-07:00

Harry's Cafe de Wheels is a Sydney institution, serving up some pretty grubbin' meat pies. The joint has been around since 1945 and is basically a glorified food cart, hence the name Cafe de Wheels. Pictures of celebrities who have eaten here line the outside walls, and as we're standing by the counter chowing down on our pie, we're staring at the likes of Pam Andersen, Simon Cowell, and some Aussie stars we've never heard of. In fact, there happens to be a celebrity here right now... some well-kept blond dude with a reporter and photographer who's snapping a thousand pics of him. Kinda makes me want to snap a shot too. Too bad I have no clue who he is [and neither does the cashier, for that matter]. I overhear something about him being a comedian. The wifey thinks he's too pretty to be straight. But anyhoo, we're pigging out on something called a "tiger"... a beef pie topped with smashed peas and mashed potatoes smothered in gravy. Ooh, definitely grubbin'.

So, in our nine days here in Sydney, I can't help but notice one thing. Where are all the black people? Take a look around and all you'll see is a sea of white and yellow... like a banana, or an egg, or a Twinkie. It takes some getting used to, but it's mostly white and Asian here [kinda feels like Lowell High School all over again]. There are about as many Asians in proportion to whites here as there are blacks to whites back home... which naturally leads me to ask, "Are we the blacks of Australia?" Hmm, interesting question. I haven't really gotten any racist vibe here, and in fact, the whities are generally pretty nice. Perhaps there was some in the past [c'mon, there has to have been], but maybe it's just not as prevalent anymore. I guess it's hard to be racist to the people holding all the money.

Well, today is our last day down under, and I'd have to say that Sydney is one beautiful city. That statement is only reinforced as I'm sitting here with the wifey at MacQuarie's Point watching the spectacular sun setting behind the Sydney Opera House and Harbour Bridge. The scene is amazing. The company is even better.

What better way to bid farewell to Australia than by taking a 6-hour nap on the 13-hour plane ride home? After we land in LAX, a heavily accented man comes on the intercom and says something about "making sexy time". No, it's not the pilot. It's Borat... or rather, Sascha Baron Cohen. Yep, he's on the plane sporting a new look for his new movie, Bruno. He plays a pretty, blond gay dude... hmmm... kinda like that dude we saw at Cafe de Wheels! Could it have been him? Could we have been 2 feet away from the guy and had no clue of it? I guess we'll never know. I'm just glad he didn't run down the aisle in his man-kini.

Random Stuff:

There's a monorail that loops around the Central Business District. Kinda like in Disneyland... but in a actual city.
The Art Gallery of New South Wales is worth a visit. It's got lots of paintings and a nice collection overall. Better than expected... plus, it's free!
You have to flag down the buses here or they won't stop.
Ah-Bon disappears. I hope she gets home safe.

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Picture of the Day
Purty!

Sydney (Day 8): Two Crazy Ladies

2009-04-26T20:10:00.000-07:00

We're at the Sydney Museum of Contemporary Art and there are two crazy ladies here. One is Yayoi Kusama, whose work is on exhibit. The other is the wifey, whose ability to do a mean impersonation of Yayoi Kusama is also on exhibit. One is artsy, the other is fartsy. I'll let you take a wild guess which one is who. But let's just say the wifey can't draw worth a lick. As Tina and I know, the farts run strong in our spouses' family. Their father has it. The brother has it. The sister... has it. That's a Star Wars reference, for all you non-Star Wars fools. That's not to imply that my father-in-law is Darth Vader, but the wifey is definitely my Princess Leia. [Awwww.] Albeit, a gaseous Princess Leia, but a princess nonetheless. Anyhoo, I digress. Kusama's work is bold, unique, and borderline schizo, with her interesting usage of mirrors and whole rooms devoted to a single work of art. Also on display are some drawings that look like something I'd doodle on my notes during a boring meeting. I'm trying to admire her work, but can't help but think, "Yeah, that bitch was crazy." It also doesn't help when every time I turn around, I see the wifey making that funny face. Yeah, that bitch is crazy.

Speaking of crazy ladies, we bid adieu to Cindy, who's heading home today... but not before stopping by the old Customs House to admire the architecture, having a yummy breakfast at Baker's Oven Cafe, and going back to the fish market for more fish and chips. No Cindy means no more obsessing about giraffes, no more making Ah-Bon do her bidding, and no more uncontrolled shopping sprees... which is probably for the best since we're running out of Australian dollars. Plus, Ah-Bon will soon be a free woman! Hallelujah! Masta set huh free!! Too bad Ah-Bon still has to carry her sister's 50 lbs of luggage back for her tomorrow. Poor Ah-Bon. I can almost hear her singing... Days never finished... Masta got me workin'... Someday Masta set me free...

Random Fact About Ah-Bon I Bet You Didn't Know #5: She collects napkins at restaurants. Ah-Bon carries on the long-standing, old-Chinese lady tradition of hoarding unused napkins, folding them up, and stuffing it in her purse. She and our moms are the reason why McDonald's doesn't leave napkins out anymore. Sheesh.

Oh, and I finally get to try some vegemite. Bleeech! The stuff is a brownish, buttery spread that looks like Nutella, but tastes more like someone's nuts*. It's a bit salty and smells kinda yeasty, like a bottle of vitamins... or a dude with a vaginal yeast infection. Yuck.

*Disclaimer: Not that I would know what someone's nuts would taste like, but that's what I would imagine it would taste like**.

**Disclaimer: Not that I spend time imagining what nuts taste like, but for the sake of being descriptive... oh nevermind. Ass.

Random Stuff:

Everyday at sunset, the whole colony of bats flies from the botanical gardens to feed on unsuspecting... fruit. Yep, they're vegetarians and they all fly over the park at sunset. Same Bat-Time, same Bat-Channel. We camp out at St. Mary's Cathedral to watch. Kinda feels like an old creepy movie with the bats flying past the church.
Cindy wants to go to Borders. I can't believe we travelled 7,000 miles to go to Borders. There's one down the block from her house.
All restuarants seem to charge extra for sauce.

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Picture of the Day
Aboriginal Dude Blowing a Big Ass Pipe at a Snake

Sydney (Day 7): One Big Penal Colony

2009-04-25T19:48:00.000-07:00

Did you know that Australia used to be one big penal colony? The Brits used to send all their undesirables here to rot. Out of sight out of mind, right? Kinda neat to think that almost everyone here is probably a descendant of some hardened criminal. Plus, I just thought it would be fun to say "penal" ... heh.

So what do you really know about Australia? I mean other than kangaroos and koalas and it being the country that produced the talented adult contemporary duo, Air Supply [You know, the short, dark-haired dude and the tall blond guy that's not Hall & Oats]... what do you really know about it? Hmm? Ok smarty pants, who's the King of Australia? Ha. That's a trick question. There is no king, though it is still part of the British Commonwealth, so I guess there's technically a queen.

But seriously, though, what's the capital of Australia? Who's the Prime Minister? Hint: the capital isn't Sydney and the PM isn't Paul Hogan. Unless you're Kevin or Thomas, I bet you don't know the answers. Most Americans probably don't. It's ok, neither did we. We're two Berkeley-educated kids... we can't be that dumb. I just find it interesting that the Aussies could probably tell you all about Americans, but we couldn't tell them something as simple as who their leader is. Maybe we just don't care. Maybe it's our American self-centerism that drives us to be oblivious about other countries. Nah, we're not that egotistical, are we? Pssht, we're Americans. We don't need to give a rat's ass. Ha.

Oh, and BTW, the capital is Canberra and the Prime Minister is Kevin Rudd. Duuh!

Random Australian Facts:

Popular Australian souvenirs: boomerangs, opals, Uggs, and kangaroo testicles.
Popular Australian soda: Lift Soda... it's carbonated lemonade. Why don't we have this at home? So good.
Australian street sign: Crosswalk or Moonwalk? This sign indicates a crosswalk, but I think it looks more like Michael Jackson doing the moonwalk.
Popular Australian snack: Meat pies
"Oz" is Australian slang for Australia. Aussies referred to themselves as "Ozzies". There's even an Emerald City, which is Sydney's nickname.

Random Stuff:

In the spirit of Americanism, the Kwong sisters are buying up a storm here at Paddy's Market, a huge indoor flea market filled with stalls that sell all kinds of clothes, food, electronics, souvenirs, and faker purses. They manage to buy $240 Australian Dollars worth of Uggs. One Ugg for every toe.
In the evening, we go up to the Sydney Tower observation deck, 1000 feet in the air. Nice views.
Dinner at Tum Tum's Thai... a hole in the wall in the Darlinghurst district. Good Thai though.

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Picture of the Day
Paddy's Market

Sydney (Day 6): Go Climb a Bridge

2009-04-24T02:50:00.000-07:00

We're here at the Sydney Fish Market having quite possibly the best fish and chips ever. The batter is perfectly light and crisp, and the fish is melt-in-your-mouth tender. Mmm, mmm... it's so good, it makes you just wanna slap yo' mamma! Besides the fish and chips, we're also pigging out on juicy tiger prawns, scrumptious Australian lobster, and salmon, tuna, and kingfish sashimi that's as smooth as butta. Wash it all down with a huge slice of watermelon and you can pretty much roll us back home. In fact, we're all so full that the four of us have to Aww Ma and Chon Chon Doe [rock, paper, scissors] to see who gets to NOT eat the remaining food. Cindy and I Aww Ma out, and it comes down to a best of three death match of Chon Chon Doe between the wifey and Ah-Bon. Ah-Bon wins the first match, but the wifey prevails winning the next two. Too bad, Ah-Bon. You should've gone for the sudden death Chon Chon Doe instead of the best of three death match. Wifey wins. Wifey doesn't have to eat.

Random Fact About Ah-Bon I Bet You Didn't Know #4: She can't eat sweet before savory. There's a delicate balance that is Ah-Bon's stomach, and it cannot be disrupted... otherwise, I'm guessing, she'll turn into the Incredible Hulk.

Did you know Cindy is an addict? She's addicted to her Crackberry... I mean her Blackberry. Her life's work is on that thing. It's her baby, her precious. So you can imagine the panic when she realizes she's lost it. She's like a mother that just lost her kid... or like a druggy without her next hit... or like a creepy hobbit without her ring. If we don't find it soon, I think she might freak out, Lord of the Rings style. Luckily, I rush back to the market only to find the thing right where she had dropped it... underneath the table where we were eating. I'm hailed as a hero, a lifesaver. But as I'm handing her crack back to her, I can almost hear her uttering, "My preciousssss..." as she's cradling her baby. The Lordess of the Ringtone is happy with her treasure, but I can't help feeling like I'm Frodo and I just handed over the ring to that crazy Gollum dude. Next time, we're gonna make her wear it around her neck like one of those kids from special ed. Sheesh.

So today's main event is the Sydney BrideClimb, where we dress up in snazzy jumpsuits and hike our way up to the top of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Sounds fun... or suicidal, depending on your definition of fun. After being subjected to a breathalizer [I guess they don't want any drunkards up there], we put on our futuristic getup, which by the way, we are nekkid underneath. TMI, I know, but I'm fixated on hoping they disinfected these things. Anyhoo, we strap on a whole bunch of gear to our belts, including a cable that tethers us to a rail that will supposedly keep us from plunging into Sydney Harbour and to a gruesome death. Nice. I feel so secure... that is, until we walk out underneath the bridge onto the rickety wooden planks precariously suspended 150 feet in the air. The bridge, built in 1932, is noisy and shakey, and the cars roaring above us not only rattles the railings, but my nerves as well. Yeesh.

As we're walking and squeezing through the narrow passages of the bridge's inner workings, I'm trying not to look down [but of course I do], and the sight of the thin metal grating between my feet and the harbour directly below is giving me queezy knees. I feel like Ah-Bon on a boat. We continue to go up steep stairwells and climb up tall ladders, eventually emerging from the floor of the road past zooming cars and roaring trains. Just ignore the feeling that something might run your ass over and concentrate on climbing that ladder and not falling to your doom. Easy peasy, huh?

At 275 feet up, we stop at the first pylon to catch our breaths. However, what breath we have left is taken away by the fantastic views of the Opera House, the harbour, and the Sydney skyline. The view only gets better as we hike our way up along the arch of the bridge. Going from one side of the arch to the other, we cross the 7-lane highway 400 feet below us. Scary and cool at the same time. Finally reaching the top, we stop and take in the exhilarating views. It's truly amazing up here. Worst part is, we have to go back down.

Random Stuff:

You can't take a camera with you on the BridgeClimb, but they snap pics of you along the way. Then they sell you a pic of yourself for AU$30. What a cash cow.
We went to the Chinese Friendship Garden this morning and enjoyed the nicely manicured lakes, waterfalls, rocks, and pagodas. It's like the Japanese Tea Garden... but Chinese.
They say you can smell the Sydney Fish Market before you can see it. Right now all I can smell is the aroma that's coming from the giant seafood platter we just ordered. It does smell kinda fishy here, but I'll take a wild guess and say that it's coming from all the dead fish. There's quite a variety too, including a bunch of different oysters, crazy looking shellfish, and colorful fishies that look too pretty to eat... all nicely presented on a bed of ice. Oh, and lest we forget the crowds. It's crowded and bustling, but the food is so worth it.
We really wanted to get the 8-person platter, but since the cashier looked at us like we were crazy, we thought better of it and got the "smaller" one instead.
Sixteen people died building the bridge, but only 2 actually fell even though there were no ropes or safety harnesses. Sheesh.

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Picture of the Day
Mmmm, Shrimp!

Sydney (Day 5): Creepy Aussie Critters

2009-04-23T14:13:00.000-07:00

I'm not talking about the Wiggles... though they do kinda fit the description of creepy Aussie critters. I'm referring to the strange and unique native wildlife that inhabit this island-nation-continent. Just take a walk through Hyde Park and you'll see raccoon/squirrel-like creatures climbing up a tree, creepy bats hovering overhead, and exotic stork-like birds walking along the grass. We've all heard of kangaroos and koalas, but what about a wombat? A wombat?? What the heck is that? Sounds like something Luke Skywalker would shoot with his laser gun.

Today, we're at Sydney Wildlife World, a zoo at Darling Harbour that brings some of Australia's unique animals, birds and other creatures right to the doorstep of the city's central district. Here and among other places, we come face to face with a cassowary, a wallaby, an echidna, an ibis, a dingo, a dugong, a lorikeet, a goanna, and a slew of other critters with names that sound more like diseases than animals. So here's a quick Australian zoology lesson...

A cassowary looks like a creepy cross between a rooster, a turkey, an ostrich, and Big Bird. Dubbed the most dangerous bird in the world, it can inflict fatal injuries to dogs and children. Yikes.

A wallaby is like a wannabe kangaroo. They look pretty much the same, but smaller. Wallaby = wannabe. Easy to remember, right?

An echidna isn't the sound a German makes when sneezing [gesundheit!], but a little critter that kinda looks like what would happen if a porcupine, a sea urchin, and a quail got drunk and had a funky threesome. I dunno what to make of it, but apparently the Aussies love it so much they put it on their nickel, and it was the official mascot of the 2000 Sydney Olympic Games.

Ibis sounds like what my nephew used to call ice cream when he was two years old. An ibis is a stork-like bird with a white body, black head, and long beak that you'd find scavenging for food in the garbage. They're like our seagulls. Uggh.

A dingo stole my baby. A dingo ate my homework. My, what a big dingo you have. Ok, scratch that last one, but you get the picture. A dingo is pretty much a dog with kinda squinty eyes... a little shifty, like they'd knife you if they knew they could get away with it. Maybe they won't eat your homework, but they will eat your baby. They're mean.

A dugong sounds like something derogatory... like something you'd yell when someone cuts you off on the freeway. You friggin dugong! They're basically manatees, or seacows... cuz they have a head of a cow with the body of a fish. They should've called it a mercow. Surf 'n turf, baby. Yum. For some reason, the wifey is fascinated by it and wants to take one home. I don't think it'll fit in the overhead compartment.

And finally, I get to see what a wombat really looks like. The best way I can describe it is that it either resembles a giant pig-like gopher or a mini furry hippopotamus. Either way, I kinda want one.

Oh and before I forget... Random Fact About Ah-Bon I Bet You Didn't Know #3: She wants a koala. Did you know that koalas sleep 20 hours a day? Kinda like someone I know... Ah-Bon?

Random Stuff:

We all want our dream pets: I want a wombat; the wifey wants a dugong; Ah-Bon wants a koala; and Cindy of course wants a giraffe. Pssht... what are you gonna do with a giraffe??
More animals: a goanna isn't a rallying cheer for Anna. It's a big lizard. A lorikeet is a multi-colored bird that you'd see flying all around the city. They're purty.
Cafe Lumiere for ricotta pancakes. Yummy.
Shopping at the Queen Victoria Building, an elegant 19th century structure converted into a shopping center. Pierre Cardin calls it the world's most beautiful mall. He's right... it is quite pretty. But he didn't say anything about the old fashioned elevators or the antiquated urinals in the men's room.
Cindy has us all waiting an hour for her while she puts out fires at work. We make her buy us dinner at Wagamama Noodle Bar.
Quote of the day: "Why go on a night cruise of Sydney Harbour when you can go to Woolworth on a bus?"
On our way to David Jones Dept. Store, we see puke on the floor. Ah-Bon gives it 2 Bleech!'s. I guess the sight of barf makes her feel barfy too.
The Sydney Opera House is pretty at night.

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Pictures of the Day
Ghost at the Sydney Opera House

Queen Victoria Building

Waiting For Cindy