Author Archive for jess

Houston, We Have Liftoff. Thank God.

Published by jess on June 9, 2010 in Travel Journal. Closed

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So, all I want to do for my 30th birthday is get dressed up, drink a good, strong cocktail and stuff my face with black-bottom cupcakes and coffee ice cream. Maybe I’ll even get Double Rainbow espresso bean shipped in…

But Taylor’s 30th-birthday wish was a bit more, shall we say, adventurous. He wanted to see a shuttle launch. And that meant we had to do it now, before NASA shuts the program down later this year. Planning a vacation around something that could be canceled at any point up to the actual moment of it happening is not the wisest idea. But it’s Taylor’s 30th. So to Orlando we went.

A week out, all signs were looking good for launch. We arrived in Orlando late Thursday night; the launch was scheduled for 2:30pm Friday. We boarded the bus for the Kennedy Space Center at Cape Canaveral at 6:30am. SIX THIRTY AM. Let’s recall people that I work nights and when I see 6:30 am it’s usually from the other end and I’m on my way to bed.

Pretty much the entire time from 6:30am until 2:30pm was spent waiting: waiting for the bus to arrive; waiting for the bust to leave; waiting for the bus to park; waiting in line at the Kennedy Space Center to buy blue chairs that say Kennedy Space Center on the back; waiting in line to re-board the buses; waiting on the bus to leave Kennedy Space Center; and, finally, waiting in our blue chairs on the NASA Causeway for liftoff.

Even a few hours before launch, they were still only 70% Go. I spent much of the day trying not to imagine how soul crushing it would feel to get all the way out there and then have them scrub.

Thank the lord, the launch went off exactly on time. Were all those hours of waiting worth the 30 seconds of awesomeness? Eh. I’m glad to have seen it; we witnessed a part of history; etc etc etc. What really made it all worth it was this face (and yes that is a NASA hat he is wearing):

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A Tale of Two Cities (As Seen Through My Stomach)

Published by jess on March 10, 2010 in Olympics 2010 and Travel Journal. 0 Comments

In my first week in Vancouver, I constantly went back and forth between totally ravenous and utterly stuffed, without any in-between. This is why. My day would begin with a fruitless effort to make it to 6am yoga. Instead I’d hit snooze, and try to sleep for another hour. The emails from New York would already be lighting up my BlackBerry, though, so I’d feel the need to get up and get to the press center, or as it’s called here, the MPC. I’d rush in, grab a bagel, get settled, answer my emails, start getting hit up with projects and blog posts and whatnot, and then before I would know it, it’s 9 pm, all I’ve had to eat is aforesaid meager bagel and some of Phred’s McD’s french fries, and I’ve never been so hungry in my entire life. Or so it feels in the moment. A trip to Subway would then ensue, since I’m not sure where else to get food in downtown Vancouver at 10pm, and then around 11 when I’d finally make it back to the Rads, I’d stuff my face. This is not healthy, I know.

There are only a few food options inside the MPC (and mind you it takes 5 minutes just to get out of here). The very words Far Coast now make me nauseous. I’ve already had McDonald’s for a meal a few times. They don’t serve sundaes at the McDonald’s. So there’s really no excusing its existence. It taunts me.

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Meanwhile, outside of the Canada Place walls, Vancouver is brimming with good food. And as I’ve gotten more settled, and had a few calm days, I’ve actually been able to get out and experience some of that.

Our first night in Vancouver, Adam, Phred and I took a walk down Robson out to Guu With Garlic, which was featured in the NYT piece about Vancouver food and which Abby had recommended to me — and when it comes to sushi, Abby’s word is golden. There are no words for how much I love the food at Guu. That first night, we shared a bunch of small plates: a few kinds of ceviche, Ume-Shiso-Udon, grilled beef tongue. It was all delicious.

I made a solo return to Guu last night (and then two nights later, with Taylor) after we discovered that there is a location in the Aberdeen Mall, directly across the street from the Rads. If I lived across the street from this place, I would never eat anywhere else. I had grilled mackerel with garlic, a seaweed/jellyfish/tofu salad that rocked my world, fresh scallops in a tangy, oniony mayo sauce and, icing on the cake, black sesame ice cream. Yuuuuum! Guu is Guuuuuud. Ok I’m repeating what they put on their promotional materials but I don’t care. I’ll be making it back there before I head home, for sure. (Update: one of the chefs now knows my name. Also, had the most delicious fizzy cocktail involving lychee, grapefruit, wine and “ramune,” a Japanese soda water that comes in a really cool contraption involving a marble that gets pushed down into the bottle when you open it. I love you Guu. I love you.)

Last week I also hit up a hot pot place in the Aberdeen Mall (which is officially the best mall ever, if what you require in malls is lots of good Asian food, slightly trashy looking clothing stores, a place to buy high-tech toilets, and in general not a single white person in sight) with some work people. I’ve never had hot pot at a restaurant before, only at home made by Mom. One doesn’t really make hot pot, I suppose, but the soup, the dressings and the ingredients can make or break it. In our “mini” hot pot sampler, we had delicious fish, thinly sliced beef, tofu skin, these ridiculously good dumplings, ramen noodles and — my favorite — oysters the size of my fist, I swear to God.

This place is a paradise for taste testers and taste mixers (not for you Jim), because they let you mix together lots of different sauces in which to dip your hot-potted food.

Living in New York, I’ve become very spoiled when it comes to food. Nowhere else in the world can you get such a diverse array of delicious food, from all regions of the world, at all price points, in any kind of setting. It has turned me into a real food snob, I’ll admit. The food in Singapore was unbelievable; I still dream about the pain-au-chocolate I had in France as a college student; but Vancouver may be the one place I’ve been that challenges New York’s food supremacy in both quality and diversity.

Vancouver Olympics: Fireworks at the MPC

Published by jess on February 24, 2010 in Olympics 2010 and Travel Journal. 0 Comments

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My new home: the MPC.

So, no, I didn’t get to go the Opening Ceremony. But we did have a front-row view from the deck of the MPC (housed in a cruise-ship looking, tented building on the waterfront) of the fireworks. It was pretty spectacular:

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Scuba Adventuress Extraordinaire

Published by jess on January 7, 2010 in Travel Journal and Uncategorized. 0 Comments

Me, diving

I survived a bleeding scrape, saltwater-induced nausea, having to cart around tanks half my size and twice my weight, flippers that kept falling off my feet and several encounters with fire coral that left swollen, red stingy rashes on my leg and arm. And partially because I think it makes me sound really tough and brave (even though I’m clearly kind of a wimp), I am now totally into diving and can’t wait to do it again. Seriously, though, there is something really exhilarating about the entire process, and of course getting to see into the underwater world is a pretty cool thing.

Saba: My Paradise

Published by jess on December 30, 2009 in Travel Journal. 0 Comments

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I’ve traveled to a fair number of places in my life (not as many as Taylor, but still), and I’ve loved most of them in some way or another. I look back over my photos from Croatia or Vietnam and think how beautiful it was; I remember the food I ate in Singapore, and get instantly hungry; I imagine myself in a Vienna cafe and smile; I think about the rich brown-blue beauty of Mexico and yearn for another vacation. I’m sure most everyone has these kinds of memories of travel to share.

But every now and then, there are some places you go that are different. That take you beyond just a great vacation. Places that make you rethink why the heck you are living the way you live. For me, Saba was such a place. I swear even now, a few weeks after returning to the bitter cold of dark, drab New York, I am still thinking about it, still wanting to go back as soon as possible, and imagining myself living there one day. This is not the most reasonable of ideas; Saba is a tiny island of 1,800 population that does not have any of the stuff I love about my (city) life: newspapers, movie theaters, coffee houses, shopping, any kind of food you want and, of course, Bikram yoga. But Saba is the kind of place that really gets into your heart and stays there; that’s my point.

I won’t go into the specifics of the travel stuff, since you can read my thoughts on all that in the piece I’ve written for WSJ and its accompanying slideshow. But here’s video of our dramatic landing and takeoff from the island (Saba has the shortest runway in the world):

Dubrovnik

Published by jess on December 11, 2009 in Travel Journal. 0 Comments

The bus ride down the coast to Dubrovnik was stunning — the rest stop where we took a break along the way had a beautiful lookout. Once in Dubrovnik old town, we rolled our suitcases along the the Stradum in search of our apartment. Just above a lovely plaza, our apartment was perfection: tidy, ideally located, and outfitted with antiquey furniture and decoration. We paused long enough to change into clothing appropriate for the (finally) warmer weather and set out to walk the old town walls. Though there were definitely more tourists in Dubrovnik than anywhere else we had been thus far, it was still quiet and on our tour of the city walls, we were virtually on our own. We were incredibly lucky in this; I can imagine the experience wouldn’t be nearly as sublime with hoards of people on either side of you.

Dubrovnik was definitely my favorite part of the trip, and though I felt that every day there, every meal, every activity, was a highlight, walking the old town walls would have to top that list. Even at a fairly speedy clip, it took some time to encircle the city — mostly because at every turn and stretch, there’s a stunning view to stop and behold. Part of the fun is imagining what the city looked like when these walls were first built; and how they were used over the years. Part of the fun is peering into the modern apartments housed partially in the walls. I was struck by the juxtaposition of ancient stone with hanging laundry and satellite dishes. As we turned one corner, I espied on the other side of the wall a man sitting on his balcony, working on a laptop. The banal sitting just next to the sublime; modern life layered upon the old city’s historical frame. Here’s how I saw it:

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Split

Published by jess on December 9, 2009 in Uncategorized. 0 Comments

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We had heard mixed reviews of Split. Some say its cosmopolitanism and nightlife make it yet another euro-trashy destination worthy of skipping. Some say its an architectural gem not to be missed. We stayed for 2 nights, and I found both to be true, to a certain degree. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss out on wandering through Diocletian’s Palace, shopping in the open-air markets and jewelry stores, and trolling along the waterfront with a gelato. Throughout Europe are cities where historical structures house modern life, but in Split this confluence is particularly apparent and especially enthralling. We didn’t spend much time learning about the history of Split or Diocletian’s Palace; mostly we were content to just meander and take it all in. This is, however, the kind of place where such knowledge may enhance one’s appreciation of the sights even more, so if I were to return, I might make more of an effort.

Peshteta

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While traveling, both Kai and I like to find new things to obsess over. In Croatia, we found Peshteta, a tuna fish pate eaten with bread and served as an appetizer at most restaurants. We had it first in Skradin, and I remember that peshteta being by far the best. We sampled many varieties, including one at a waterfront pizza place in Split (pictured above). I know it looks here just like blobs of tuna, but it’s so much tastier than that.

Hrvatska

Published by jess on December 9, 2009 in Travel Journal and Uncategorized. 0 Comments

This is a long overdue report on my travels to Croatia earlier this year.

It all began over drinks with Kai in San Francisco. She mentioned she was planning to travel to Croatia in the Spring. With who? I asked. Why, by myself, she replied. To which I naturally, and in my standard elegant mode of address, replied, I Wanna Go Too I Wanna go Too!

And so we did go. Since Kai is a busy doctor and all the time busy with doctoring things, she let me take on most of the planning for the trip. Which, naturally, suited me just fine. We had only 8 days in Croatia, with a few days in London on either end, but we wanted to experience as much of the country as possible. So we planned a whirlwind tour of the Southern coastal area, beginning in resort town Zadar, through Split and ending in Dubrovnik, with one venture inland to Skradin and the Krka Waterfalls.

Zadar

It rained the morning we were in Zadar, preventing us from exploring the city. Our one adventure here was taking the public bus to the bus station, which the guide book made sound quite simple, but was complicated by the rain, our bags, the crowds and the fact that the bus station was not labeled as such. We made it, though, and went onward to Sibenik, where we had yet another interesting bus travel experience in trying to decipher which bus was our bus.

Skradin and Krka National Park

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We were travelling just before Easter, which marks the beginning of the high season for tourism in Croatia. We arrived in Skradin to find it a ghost town — empty streets, shuttered restaurants and stores. In wandering around, we would see restaurants washing down their decks, dragging about tables and chairs, beginning preparations to open for the season. In our day and a half there, we had the place totally to ourselves, which was actually a bit disconcerting. It almost felt like we were interrupting the town’s last moments of solitude before they open their doors and welcome in the masses.

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We were the only occupants of our hotel and for the included breakfast, instead of opening up the dining room, they set us up our own little table in the lobby. It was comical, but in an endearing way.

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The town has a lovely pier, where the boat that takes visitors to the Krka National Park and its waterfalls docks.

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Though Krka is much smaller than the famous Plitvice Lakes, it was still a lovely way to spend the morning and was all we had time for anyway. We ended up having to hike there since the early morning boat never showed up to take us.

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Before leaving, we stopped for what was fast becoming a morning, noon and night ritual for us: cappus.

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Wien

Published by jess on April 19, 2008 in Travel Journal. Closed

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When planning this trip, I was told by a few people that they thought I’d love Vienna. I’ve heard many people say that, while cities like Paris and London are wonderfully cosmopolitan and chockablock with culture, and while the Spanish and Italian cities are amazing for their food or art or nightlife, Vienna is a city that you can see yourself living in.

Vienna is, of course, rich in history. One guidebook calls it a “head without a body” — it is the former capital of the uber powerful Hapsburg Empire, yet is the seat of a small country with little military might or global sway today. Its former glory is evident no matter where in the city you go, however; as is its past as the center of several revolutionary intellectual and artistic movements (see Mozart, Schubert, Brahms, Freud, etc. etc. etc.) There’s enormous palaces to be seen, the largest collections of Klimt and Schiele in the world far as I can tell (including The Kiss), beautiful, monumental statues celebrating Hapsburg greatness, a zillion monuments to various famous dead white bearded guys (see Mozart, Schubert, Brahms, Freud, etc. etc. etc.), and much like Prague every corner brings a new architectural gem. (The statue above is from the Belvedere Palace, a “summer home” built by Prince Eugene in the 1700s — if by “summer home” you mean two colossal mansions linked by sprawling Versailles-esque gardens. It’s now most famous as being home to Klimt’s The Kiss.)

But who cares about all that history stuff right? Some white guys plus Maria Theresa did some stuff, blah blah blah, built some stuff, blah blah blah.

Those people who told me I’d love Vienna? They were probably talking about the food. Scratch food. The coffee. And the cakes. Above all, Viennese seem to value the importance of plopping down in a beautifully appointed cafe, ordering a melange and a Sachertorte, unrolling today’s paper and then staying there for, oh, anywhere from an hour to a half-day. Why move? The waiters don’t rush you out, they’re happy to let you sit there all day. If you finish your Sachertorte, then you order an apfelstrudel.

THIS is what I’m talking about:

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Those are the cakes on offer at Oberlaa, a chocolatier and torte maker in the Naschmarkt.

Here is the Sachertorte I sampled at the Cafe Drechsler. It was very good, though a bit too sweet for me:

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This chocolate and sour cherry torte at the cafe Milo in Museumsquartier was Delicious. My favorte food on the trip so far:

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Ceska

Published by jess on April 15, 2008 in Travel Journal. 0 Comments

One of the things I love about traveling is being exposed to the look and sounds of different languages, especially languages you rarely hear in the States. While traveling in Vietnam, I tried my best to learn some of the basics of the language — I even downloaded podcast lessons beforehand. But other than a few easy to handle words (Gam un = thank you; Ca = fish), I found the language extremely difficult to get a hold of in even the most basic ways, and naturally unnecessary given that 95% of people spoke basic English.

Here in Prague, it’ s much the same. Most people speak English, and it’s not necessary to even try to speak in Czech. Still, it seems unfair that it’s so easy for us English speakers to travel everywhere without even having to learn hello and goodbye, so I’ve given it a shot. But pronouncing Czech words is definitely just as difficult as Vietnamese words were. I mean, this is what I’m dealing with:

Na Phkope
Pstrossova
Na Perstyne
Vysehradska
(all street names)

You get the gist. And that’s without all the crazy accents. Navigating our way through the city — yelling out absurd, totally illogical pronunciations of street names while gesturing at nothing in particular — has made for quite a scene.

The Czech language is beautiful, though. It has the same rich chunkiness as German but with the elegant lilt of French or Italian. And thankfully the most important word is easy for even the most linguistically challenged among us to pronounce:

Pivo
(beer)