Where and Back

The Truth About Elephant Trekking

2012-02-16T11:21:00.000-05:00

Few experiences can compare with meeting one of the world’s largest vegetarians. Up to ten feet tall at the shoulder, Elephas maximus, better known as the Asian elephant, is the very definition of a gentle giant, happy to accept a spiny pineapple or a bunch of ripe bananas from an awestruck two-legged visitor. According to biologists, perhaps as many as 100,000 members of this species occupied Southeast Asia in the early 1900s, but in the century since, these animals have seen their range steadily shrink as logging, slash and burn agriculture, and a growing human population encroach on the tropical and subtropical forests pachyderms depend on for survival. Poaching and habitat fragmentation further threaten the small numbers that exist in the wild in Thailand today, now largely limited to national parks such as Khao Yai and Khao Cha Mao, as well as isolated tracts of land along the Cambodian, Laotian, and Myanmar borders.

While their numbers in the wild have decreased, their popularity as a tourist attraction has only grown, due in part to the government ban on logging that effectively put many domesticated elephants out of work. At present, the Tourism Authority of Thailand (TAT) lists nearly four dozen tour operators that offer short rides or longer treks. Clearly elephants are big business. But what kind of business exactly? These highly social animals require lots of fresh water and about 330 pounds (150 kg) of food per day, not to mention quite a bit of space. So how are they trained and cared for? A phrase on the TAT website offers a telling if disappointing clue: “the treatment of Thai elephants varies from elephant camp to elephant camp, some using more humane methods to look after their elephants than others.”

According to Timothy Gorski, director of the documentary How I Became an Elephant, the boom in elephant tourism began in the 1980s and has risen with "the so-called ‘eco-tourism’ phenomenon. Elephant treks are being marketed as eco-friendly conservation tours.” Problematically though, the definition of eco-tourism often differs from company to company, and training methods—rarely witnessed but captured in Gorski’s documentary—are often cruel. The pajaan, a practice that involves caging a young elephant and depriving it of food, sleep, and even contact with its mother, is one such method. In addition, some say that health and safety regulations are minimal and inadequately enforced. As a result, Catherine Bodry, co-author of the last edition of Lonely Planet Thailand, maintains that the long-term well being of elephants in Thailand is largely up to tourists and the general public. But if the future of the Asian elephant depends on public awareness and action, education must be a part of any trek. Unfortunately, this isn’t something that every camp provides.

“The Anantara Elephant Camp at the Golden Triangle, as well as Elephant Nature Park in Chiang Mai and Patara Elephant Farm among others, put a high emphasis on education,” explains Daniel Fraser, the co-founder and director of Smiling Albino, an adventure travel operator with a logo that happens to feature a happy white elephant. “I don't know if typical mid-range or backpacker-oriented tour companies have an advocacy policy.” Gorski sees the situation in a dimmer light, and doesn’t hesitate to suggest that education and conservation are rarely a part of the typical trekking experience. “Zero percent in most trekking camps,” he says matter-of-factly.

Instead of seeing the educational opportunity their elephants offer, most tour operators seem content to view them in a purely economic context: just another option to attract more paying customers. And yet despite the lack of information tourists typically receive about the endangered species they’ve come to ride, the vast majority of people who decide to take a trek end up with positive things to say afterwards. Take Ken Goldman of Jersey City, New Jersey. He’s had an elephant-eye view of the world twice now. And although he conceded that there was no education or discussion of conservation on either trek, he had little else to criticize.

“We gathered in a waiting area for about 30 minutes before we were ready to go. During that time I observed the elephants relaxing in the river with their trainers. The elephants seemed very well cared for. The trainers also treated the elephants with respect and affection.” As memorable as his experience was though, Mr. Goldman returned home having learned little about his mount—its daily life, personality, personal history, or ecology. Nor did he receive any materials that encouraged him to deepen his understanding, volunteer his time, or donate money to conservation efforts in Thailand or elsewhere. If they are to survive as a species, Asian elephants need people to care.

Instead of paying to join a safari then, the best way to learn something about these compelling, complicated beasts is to spend time at a refuge or a wildlife sanctuary. Nationwide, the Thai Elephant Conservation Center in Lampang is probably the best known organization dedicated to the Asian elephant, although tourists can still participate in rides and overnight treks. For those who wish to do more to support foundations working to protect the species and their environment, Brody encourages travelers to explore all available options. “In my opinion, the best operations are not the ones that offer treks, but rather a chance to interact with the elephants. The Wildlife Friends of Thailand Rescue Centre runs an elephant refuge where volunteers will be trained how to work with elephants rescued from, say, the streets of Bangkok. In Chiang Mai, the Elephant Nature Park gets great reviews. Again, there is no riding—visitors wash or just observe the elephants. If you really want a trek,” she continues, “the award-winning Ban Kwan Chang Elephant Camp on Ko Chang offers rides and treats their animals well.”

Some progress has been made to better the condition of the domesticated population, but much remains to be done to ensure the future of the Asian elephant. Action from the government will certainly help, but it won’t be enough on its own. Protecting these wonderful animals will also require work from private citizens. Education and responsible tourism remain the two best hopes for Elephas maximus, even though they too, face challenges. In 2007, the Elephant Conservation Network conducted a study to determine how to develop a viable conservation tourism initiative that would benefit local communities and forests as well as the elephants of Kanchanaburi.

For all of the encouragement it offered, the study came to the conclusion that using tourism as a tool for development is easier than using it for conservation. Tourists themselves then, must demand more from tour operators. Make suggestions, reward responsible businesses, and most of all, ask questions. Because ultimately, the issue boils down to a very important one: What would Thailand be without its elephants?

*A version of this story originally appeared in Tropical Magazine.

The Winter Blues

2012-02-02T22:37:00.000-05:00

We're one month into the new year already and so far the Northeast hasn't felt particularly wintry. Lately I've even found myself half wishing to be somewhere colder, or at least a little snowier. I didn't have this problem two years ago when I went to Iceland to research a story for Wend magazine. It was appropriately frigid during my time in the capital city. But before returning to Keflavik International Airport on my last day there, I made a short detour to a much warmer place that's practically become an obligatory stop for every visitor to Reykjavik: The Blue Lagoon.

Although the word lagoon is usually used in a tropical context, I suppose this popular geothermal spa, being a relatively shallow pool of water, technically isn't misnamed. What struck me about this quintessentially Icelandic attraction though, as much as the heat and the sense of calm that pervaded the whole complex, was the color. Even on an overcast day in February, the water seemed to glow, appearing a bright cyan or aqua against the drab surrounding landscape. Walking around after a dip in the famously therapeutic geothermal seawater, I snapped a handful of photographs that take me back to that day every time I look at them. Here's the set on Flickr.

The Blue Lagoon's 30 Euro entrance fee (about $39.40) isn't exactly inexpensive—especially when you add on another €5 for towel rental—but cheap holidays to Iceland do exist. Plan to travel in February or March and you'll get better fares and packages on Icelandair as well as lower hotel rates in Reykjavik. Sure, it'll be cold and dark, but spend enough time at a neighborhood bar, or better yet, a burger joint, and you're bound to meet a friendly Icelander or two.

Border Hopping for Beer in Victoria, BC

2012-01-18T15:33:00.003-05:00

With all of the attention lavished on Portland and Seattle, it's easy to forget that the Pacific Northwest has a third craft beer capital: Victoria. Just across the Puget Sound on Vancouver Island in British Columbia, this scenic city has quietly yet steadily added craft breweries and brewpubs, businesses that have earned themselves a loyal local following and more than a few Canadian Brewing Awards along the way. In the winter issue of HARBORS Magazine, I cover four of the eight in a short feature entitled "Brewing Up Business."

Of course I couldn't do a story on Victoria's beer scene without mentioning Spinnakers and Swans, two brewpubs that made a mark in the 80s, well before some of their current peers had even considered brewing professionally. But while they might be a venerable duo in the industry, neither is content to rest on their laurels. Spinnakers, for example, recently released Das Razz, a strong Belgian-style ale with raspberries (8.2% ABV), while Swans sold out of their new Saison (a 6.3% ABV spiced winter ale) in about three weeks. Not to be outdone, Lighthouse Brewing Company debuted their Belgian Black this month, a 9% ABV strong ale available in 650 mL bottles. Any one of these beers would be worth seeking out on its own. Considering the fact that all three can be sampled in the same city, I'd say it's time to start counting frequent flyer miles.

Two Minute Interview: Ethan Holtzman

2012-01-10T14:24:00.001-05:00

Until recently, I'd never heard a mastadong. Actually, I didn't even know such a thing existed. Listening to the Los Angeles-based band Dengue Fever however, I was eventually able to pick it out from the swirl of sounds, a hybrid instrument created by combining an American electric guitar with a two-string Cambodian chapei dong veng. Strange though it may be, the mastadong is a fitting symbol for a group that categorizes its music as Asian Psychedelic. In my Two Minute Interview with co-founder and keyboard player Ethan Holtzman, he told me about performing at a cult compound, meeting Beck in Norway, and touring Southeast Asia as a cultural ambassador. Dengue Fever is currently on tour.

How has travel influenced your music or changed your songwriting? Travel has had an impact on our music. The initial idea to form Dengue Fever came after I'd traveled to Cambodia and discovered some of the recordings they made during the late ‘60’s early 70’s. Also playing festivals around the globe with bands like Seun Kuti and the Egypt 80, for example. You can hear an influence in the rhythm on the song "Only A Friend" off our new album Cannibal Courtship.
Describe something surprising, humorous, or disappointing that's happened in your collective travels. One time we were booked to play a show in Sedona, Arizona. When we arrived it turned out to be a cult where the leader claimed to be in contact with extraterrestrial beings from outer space. He named all of his followers whatever he wanted to, claiming that higher beings told him that was their name. The show went on and only one friend of Senon, our bassist, actually paid to get in. The rest were members of this cult. They all hippie danced to the side of the stage for the entire show. We had to spend the night in one of the houses that they lived in. Our band shared bunk beds. Under each pillow was a copy of a book of their beliefs.
When you were starting out with Dengue Fever, where did you dream of playing live? What about now? Cambodia was always a dream. To bring the music back to where it originated from was an important goal. We now have been to Cambodia, as a band, on three separate occasions. Our last trip was the best yet. We received a grant from the US Embassy to go to Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam as cultural ambassadors. Every day we did workshops with different organizations. It was my favorite tour as of yet. I dream of playing a show in Madagascar though. That would be amazing.
What are some of the most memorable places you've performed, and why? How were you received in Cambodia? Where would you go back to first? New Zealand, Moscow, and Norway. When we played in New Zealand we had an entire week staying at a hotel walking distance to the beach. The show was part of WOMAD in the middle of a thick lush rain forest. Moscow was a massive outdoor show and in the few days over there we drank the smoothest vodka ever. The food was incredible and we met some cool bands like Beirut and made new friends. In Norway, we played a festival on an island called Hove. We stayed in a beautiful cabin in the woods. The owner of the house had a boat and took us on a ride into town where we bumped into Beck and his family. We had drinks with Panic at the Disco backstage and other random bands that were also booked for the festival. Cambodia has been an excellent spot for the band. When we go there we're able to raise money for some charities that we work with like Cambodian Living Arts. They help keep traditional Khmer song and dance alive since it almost vanished during the Khmer Rouge regime.
As fans, do you have any enduring concert-going memories? Who did you see and where? Watching Seun Kuti and the Egypt 80 in New Zealand was a great show. You could look at anybody on stage and become mesmerized by what they were doing. Locally, I recently saw Omar Souleyman, at the Echo. That was a great show.
Do you look forward to touring, meeting other bands, and seeing cities through the eyes of working musicians, or would you rather be writing and recording from the comforts of home? In a perfect world there would be a balance of both. Touring in two week increments seems to be the best. Then a few days off at home and into the studio to record. That would be ideal.
Who or what do you find most exciting or inspiring about LA's music scene at the moment? Any venues you're fond of? How much do you keep track of pop music trends in Southeast Asia? The best part about living in Los Angeles is that sooner or later most of the bands or artists you're interested in will play here. I live in Echo Park and the closest venues to my house are the Echo and the Echoplex. There are so many good musicians in Echo Park but no bands at the moment really come to mind. As far as Southeast Asia, on our last trip to Cambodia we connected with some great young musicians in Battambang. We jammed with them and they had so much talent. For the first time we met musicians in Cambodia who relied more on their ear, rather than musicians from an orchestra who are more classically trained.

Reviewing Books for All About Beer

2012-01-04T23:13:00.003-05:00

By all accounts, 2011 was a big year for beer books. Very big. Oxford University Press released the massive, Garrett Oliver-edited Oxford Companion to Beer, Jeremy Cowan and James Sullivan told the story of Shmaltz Brewing Company in Craft Beer Bar Mitzvah, and Joshua M. Bernstein wrote a highly entertaining guide to the thriving craft beer industry called Brewed Awakening. Rounding out the bunch, Running Press also published The Great American Ale Trail by Christian DeBenedetti, a journalist and zymurgist based in Oregon.

In the January issue of All About Beer I reviewed DeBenedetti's book, a title that belongs on the shelf of any craft beer fan. It's fun to browse, and worth consulting when you need help tracking down a watering hole out of town. As I wrote in the magazine, "his voice is knowledgeable, entertaining and easygoing, almost as if a trusted friend rather than a seasoned expert is dispensing the advice within the publication's 352 pages." Here's hoping 2012 has another round of great beer books in the tap line.

A Year Afoot

2011-12-16T16:45:00.000-05:00

For me, 2011 was anything but typical. After spending Christmas on Ko Samet in the Gulf of Thailand, I watched January quietly arrive from a sixth floor balcony in Bangkok. By February I had made two short trips to Cambodia—one to Siem Reap and another to the capital. A month later I was hiking up an active volcano in the Philippines and then in May, I huffed and puffed along a winding jungle trail in Penang, Malaysia (pictured at right) to reach Muka Head and its impressive nineteenth century lighthouse. Meanwhile, in the United States, FalconGuides published Best Hikes Near New York City, my first book since going freelance two years ago.

At the start of summer I was back on the carriage roads and footpaths of New York and New Jersey, leading groups of nature-deprived urbanites for Outdoor Bound. A friend's June wedding in Kentucky was my chance to explore a fraction of the Red River Gorge Geologic Area, although I didn't make it to the state's well known natural bridge. Then in September I spent some time in Vietnam's central provinces trying to learn what I could about the pre-colonial history of the region. I was only back on the East Coast for three weeks before I dashed off to Denver for the 30th annual Great American Beer Festival, a trip that also included a day hike through the red rocks at Roxborough State Park. Finally, just before Thanksgiving, a brief magazine assignment took me to Idaho, where I got a crash course in trout fishing and stopped at the Riverport Brewing Company.

All told, I covered a lot of territory last year, and from this vantage point, 2012 doesn't look like it will involve much sitting still. I've already begun to make plans for a trip to Europe, and once the snow melts in the northeast, I'll get going on my next book, another outdoor recreation guide. In fact, as I peer into the future and consider the amount of travel I'm likely to do in the next 12 months, I have to wonder whether 2011 was really so atypical after all.

Beer Discoveries in the Pacific Northwest

2011-12-01T23:32:00.007-05:00

By the time Lewis and Clark and the Corps of Discovery reached present day Idaho in September of 1805, their cache of food was running on empty. Worse yet, the expedition finished the last of their whiskey on July 4th. Desperate and near starvation, they resorted to eating dog. And while I'm sure they were grateful for the salmon and camas root provided by friendly Nez Percé several days later, I bet a brewery at the confluence of the Snake and Clearwater Rivers would have been a welcome sight for a band of exhausted explorers.

The Riverport Brewing Company in Clarkston, Washington is just across the Snake from Lewiston, Idaho. It's only been open for three years, but head brewer Pete Broyles already plans to expand; after a somewhat slow start, draft sales are growing. At last, craft beer has been discovered along the Lewis and Clark Trail. "We get people in here from a lot of different places," Pete told me during a recent visit to his spacious taproom on Ninth Street. Scanning the room, the patrons looked to be mostly local, but even an hour before closing on a Monday, business was steady. Halfway through the six glass sample board ($5) I knew it was more than free popcorn keeping people coming back for more beer.

Starting with the seasonal specialty, a wet-hopped IPA called 9th Street Whip, I next tried the biscuity, gently bitter Cedar Rock Pale Ale, an American style red ale called B-Run, the dry, piney Seven Devils IPA, Old Man River Oatmeal Stout, and my favorite, Bedrock Bock. Malty, slightly creamy and reminiscent of fruitcake, this garnet-colored brew stood out from the pack, tempting me to spend a buck for another four ounce sample. Then again, it could have been the sign behind the bar egging me on: Last call is for sissies. Considering the trout fishing I would be doing later that week, I probably should have picked up a growler ($18.75 or $8 for refills). Because you never know when you'll run out of provisions.

Fishing Wild Rivers

2011-11-23T10:59:00.002-05:00

Standing on the boat ramp in the early light of dawn, I shimmied into a borrowed pair of long johns. According to my guide Brent, I couldn't rely on a wool sweater and a thermos of black coffee to keep me warm during a full day on the Salmon River. And so before we pushed off into the swift current, I slipped on another layer. Shivering through my first steelhead fishing excursion didn't seem like a particularly wise decision.

Two weeks ago I visited Idaho for the first time. Like many trips I've made over the years, this one ended too soon. Setting out from Lewiston near the Washington state line, I ended up more than 100 miles south in Riggins, a little town named after the area's first mailman. But I hadn't traveled to Idaho's whitewater capital to learn about western postal history. I was there to see the Salmon, the longest wild or free-flowing river in the lower 48.

Getting out on the water however, wasn't something I planned to attempt on my own. Especially considering the limited time and resources at my disposal. Fortunately, the night before I climbed into a drift boat with Brent, I had met with Amy Sinclair of Exodus Wilderness Adventures at the Back Eddy Grill. As I savored a bison burger and a bottle of rich Black Butte Porter, she talked me through the basics of obtaining a fishing license and dressing for Idaho's cool autumn temperatures, explaining that she'd have a bag of extra clothes waiting for me in the morning.

The next day, wind whipped through the narrow gorge and John Day Mountain cast its long shadow over the river for hours after sunrise, but I remained warm. This, I discovered, was an important part of enjoying any fall fishing trip. Sure, hooking four good-sized steelhead in the first two hours added to the fun, but comfort was key. In fact, I think I'll pack my thermal underwear the next time I go to Idaho.

Craft Beer and Edible Communities

2011-11-02T16:05:00.001-04:00

In spite of the gains craft brewing has made in recent years, it's still a small piece of an enormous $101 billion pie. At first glance, it might even seem insignificant. Anchor Brewing Company, which distributes to all 50 states as well as several foreign countries, employs just 50 people. Anheuser-Busch InBev has 120,000 employees worldwide. But a closer look at the US beer industry reveals telling details that can't be neatly quantified or easily summarized with charts and tables.

Earlier this fall, I wrote several articles about the evolving story of craft beer in New York and New Jersey. The first, entitled "Heads Up, Big Boys," profiles a few of the newest brewers in the Garden State—businesses like the Cape May Brewing Company, Carton Brewing in Atlantic Highlands, and Kane Brewing of Ocean Township. Another piece, "Climbing Their Way Back," about the return of hop farming in New York, appears in Edible Hudson Valley. And finally, in a third article for Edible East End, I chronicle the proliferation of craft beer bars on Long Island.

13 Frighteningly Good Halloween Beers

2011-10-26T15:16:00.001-04:00

October can be a strange time for beer drinkers. Alongside any number of Oktoberfest lagers, you'll occasionally find a saison or a summer ale if the month starts off warmly, only to be replaced by a variety of pumpkin beers, redolent with pie spices and the flavors of fall. By the last week or two though, darker porters and stouts begin to creep into most draft lineups, signaling colder nights ahead. And of course October also brings Mischief Night and Halloween, two excellent opportunities for brewers to tap into their spooky side by giving their products creepy names and labels. With that spirit (pun intended) in mind, I've chosen to list some of my favorites:

Vampire Ale—City Steam Brewery Cafe, Hartford, CT
Dark o' the Moon—Elysian Brewing Company, Seattle, WA
Evil Twin—Heretic Brewing Company, Pittsburg, CA
Voo Doo American Stout—Left Coast Brewing Company, San Clemente, CA
Certified Evil—Lucky Bucket Brewing Company, La Vista, NA
Pendle Witches Brew—Moorhouse's Brewery, Burnley, UK
Rosemary's Baby—The Peekskill Brewery, Peekskill, NY
Three Skulls Poison—Pillager's Pub, Seattle, WA
Black Cat Stout—The Portsmouth Brewery, Portsmouth, NH
Zombie Dust—Three Floyds Brewing Company, Munster, IN
Redrum Imperial Red Ale—Trinity Brewhouse, Providence, RI
Hop Zombie—Uncle Billy's Brew & Que, Austin, TX
Hobgoblin—Wychwood Brewery, Witney, UK

Two Minute Interview: Andy Chase

2011-10-05T16:38:00.005-04:00

Many years ago I placed a short ad in the Village Voice. I'd recently moved to New York from a very small town in Ohio, and hoped to form a band with a drummer friend who had relocated to Manhattan at about the same time. We brought a batch of songs with us that I'd written in college, and planned to take the New York music scene by storm. As it turned out, fame and fortune proved elusive, but the ad worked, and a few weeks later we were collaborating with a talented guitarist/producer.

Apparently one of my favorite bands, the pop trio Ivy, also has the Voice to thank for introducing songwriters Adam Schlesinger and Andy Chase to one another. I mention this because together with Dominique Durand they've just released All Hours, their sixth full-length album of moody, hypnotic songs. In many ways, I think it improves on In the Clear, their last release for Nettwerk Records. Fresh off a short run of shows promoting the album, Chase made time to answer a few travel-related questions for my Two Minute Interview column.

How has travel influenced your music or changed your songwriting perspective? In Ivy we have a Parisian and two Americans who have always looked to England and Europe for cultural and musical inspiration, so we were somewhat more aware of the world around us than most bands when we started. But still, we were quite provincial in our songwriting in the early years. I mean, when we got signed and made our debut album we felt we had seen very little of the U.S. or Europe. If you look at the subject matter of those first few albums (Realistic and Apartment Life) the songs were all about either broken relationships or NYC urban life. By our third album Long Distance in 1999 we'd played in almost every state in the country, been to Japan and Europe three times—we had seen the world. We began writing about much more expansive and outward-looking themes. You can tell just by studying the titles of the songs: “Undertow” (which was written in Normandy) and “Edge Of The Ocean.” The traveling we've done and the sense of forward motion in our lives continues to be a recurring theme for us in more recent songs like “Nothing But The Sky,” “Keep Moving,” and “Ocean City Girl.”
Describe something surprising, humorous, or disappointing that's happened in your collective travels. We always wondered why bands traveled in vans or buses, but never RV's. Before a six week tour we called a national RV rental company and were told they categorically don't rent to bands. I took out my earrings and went to the dealership with a jacket on and said I was going on a trip with my parents. They eyed me suspiciously and reiterated that it was only for recreational use and asked again if I was a musician. I did my best Ferris Bueller, signed all the forms and drove out of there with a 42 ft. RV pulling a trailer on the hitch. About an hour into the 10,000 mile tour, Adam put his feet up on the kitchen table and the top came crashing down, breaking two bottles of ketchup in an explosion all over the carpet below. Sans a working kitchen table, everything seemed beautiful for a few days. We began thinking we were the smartest band in the country, having found the secret to touring in style. It was the middle of the summer and by the time we hit the Badlands it was about 106 degrees outside. That's when the generator for our air-conditioning broke. The nearest hub was about 150 miles from where we were, and they said we could have it fixed, but couldn't promise how quickly. Problem is, we were a band, and couldn't just waltz in there. So about a mile from the place we pulled over on a remote stretch of road and dropped the band and crew and all the gear on a slim strip of grass. Two of usdrove the RV to the dealership and waited seven hours while some guy worked on the broken generator. When it was fixed we raced back to pick up the stranded group who by then were suffering from heat stroke and sunburns and were all quite pissed. The next day our tour manager was backing up the RV and a low-hanging tree branch took off the top three inches of the roof in the rear. From inside you could see plenty of sky through the chewed up and torn fiberglass. We did our best to patch it with plastic bags and duct tape, but over the next month rain and grime made its way through and pretty much soaked and stained every inch of the living area. When the generator died again we just gave up and popped out the permanent windows so we could at least get some air flowing into the vehicle. Those windows came out pretty easily, but were virtually impossible to put back in. By the time we returned the RV to the dealership it was pretty much unrecognizable. We were charged $4,500 to repair the roof, another $3,000 to replace and repair the multitude of broken and stained items inside, and a massive $1,000 cleaning fee. It was all buses after that.
When you were starting out with Ivy, where did you dream of playing live? What about now? We started off only playing clubs around NYC. They held maybe 100 people. We dreamed about landing a tour and traveling around the country, playing “big” places. Our first tour was with They Might Be Giants, in huge auditoriums and halls, playing to over 1,000 people. We didn't distinguish between different cities or venues—they were all enormous and mind-blowing. Now I think we dream of playing in exotic places we haven't been to yet: South America, Indonesia…
What are some of the most memorable places you've performed, and why? In our early years we had a decent following in the major cities, but once we were off the grid we were virtually unknown. We found ourselves playing a show in a tiny dive bar in Toledo, Ohio. We waited for people to come but other than the bartender and our roadie there was no one else in the venue. We felt silly going on stage but suddenly four people walked in so we began to play. After the first song all four people and the bartender clapped enthusiastically. Dominique asked them to come to the front of the stage and sit on the the floor, which all five did. We walked to the edge of the stage, sat on the monitors and played a very relaxed, funny show for them, taking time between songs to let them make comments. It ended up being one of the more charming and spontaneous shows we've ever done.
As a fan, do you have any enduring concert-going memories? Who did you see and where? Best concert, hands down, was before we started Ivy. Dominique and I saw The Sundays open for House Of Love in NYC. Two amazing bands. There were lots of smoke machines and strobe lights. We just watched that show in awe. How could it not make you want to be up on stage doing that?
Do you look forward to touring, meeting other bands, and seeing cities through the eyes of a working musician, or would you rather be writing and recording from the comforts of home? Both. Those two worlds are so disconnected that, like two different parts of your brain, you need them both to function. There's nothing more exciting than the three of us holed up in our studio Stratosphere writing new songs. But the thrill and exhilaration of traveling to different cities, seeing different cultures, getting up on stage in front of people, seeing them smile and sing along to your songs, it can't be substituted. It's the Yin and Yang of life as a musician.
Who or what do you find most exciting or inspiring about New York's music scene at the moment? Any venues you're fond of? Well, the Brooklyn scene is really the thing to speak of at the moment, though it's been vibrant for quite a few years now. We thought we'd played all the good places around town… but we just played Gramercy Theater on East 23rd street for the first time and it might be one of our favorite venues for its size (600 people) in the country. Amazing space—huge floor in front of the stage but seats like a movie theater going up in the rear of the house. The ceilings must be 50 feet high. A phenomenal PA system, an insane amount of lights and a high, wide stage. We were blown away.

Crafting Beer in the Preseli Hills

2011-09-29T15:02:00.005-04:00

For several years now, brewpubs, microbreweries and nanobreweries have opened across the U.S. at an almost unprecedented rate. In fact, this year's sold out Great American Beer Festival (which starts today), is likely to include quite a few attendees who have transitioned from beer enthusiasts to full-fledged professionals. Next year, as many as 725 breweries are poised to join the craft beer movement. And while this growth is certainly remarkable, the excitement isn't limited to the 50 states. All over the globe, the tastes of drinkers are evolving, and brewers everywhere are working hard to keep up with demand.

Elsewhere in the Western Hemisphere, South America has joined the flavor revolution, and signs of change have begun to appear in Asia, too. Which isn't to say that the traditional brewing nations are standing idly by while the rest of the world races toward the future. In the U.K. for instance, where reports of shuttering pubs might be cause for concern among real ale campaigners, more than a few entrepreneurs have recently ventured into the business of beer.

I saw evidence of this phenomenon myself on a trip through Wales last September. Hand crafted cider had determined my driving route, but along the way I discovered determined Welsh brewers selling their small batch beers at farm shops, food festivals, and in some cases, right from the source. One of my favorites was the Gwaun Valley Brewery, a family operation in Pembrokeshire that opened in July 2009 near the town of Fishguard. I dropped by on my way to St Davids, and spent some time chatting with Sarah Davies while sampling the three beers brewed by her husband, Len. As a porter guy, I especially liked the mild Dark Ale (4.2% ABV) made with chocolate malt and local spring water.

Hop bines grow behind the converted granary, and visitors can also see the pigs that happily consume the brewery's spent grain. According to Sarah, "Sometimes they get some waste beer in their water trough and have been known to get tipsy! One of them in particular (the biggest) has developed a liking for this Real Ale and leaves his food to come sauntering over for a pint." Could beer bacon be destined for Welsh pub menus?

Gwaun Valley Brewery welcomes visitors seven days a week from 10am to 6pm. On the occasional Saturday night, Sarah—who painted the watercolors that appear on the labels—also organizes free acoustic music sessions.

Japanese Brewers Bounce Back

2011-09-16T13:24:00.001-04:00

When the massive Tōhoku earthquake hit Japan in March, the destruction was immense. In addition to the thousands of lives lost, the 9.0 quake and subsequent tsunami destroyed roadways, ports, homes, and nuclear power plants—along with several craft breweries. To quote the Japan Beer Times, "few individuals and businesses were unaffected negatively." The good news, as I report in the September/October issue of DRAFT magazine, is that for damaged breweries like Kiuchi in Naka city, recovery has been relatively swift. Not only did Kiuchi immediately help the surrounding community by providing free meals and clean drinking water, they went on to open their first gastropub, True Brew Beer Cafe & Shop, a mere ten weeks after the fifth most powerful earthquake in world history.

Beer for the Beach

2011-09-04T13:00:00.001-04:00

For years, Corona has shrewdly marketed itself as the beer to order at any beach, anywhere, claiming to possess "the unparalleled flavor of relaxation." Whatever that means. Personally, television ads featuring tropical shorelines and a soundtrack of crashing surf won't persuade me to buy a bottle of fizzy corn juice disguised as alcohol. Besides, I'd rather drink something brewed locally. Which is why I was happy to share some of my recent beach beer finds in the September issue of Travel + Leisure Southeast Asia.

No, Grupo Modelo's popular lager isn't particularly hard to come by in Thailand, Cambodia, or Vietnam, but given the choice, I'll take a fruity Red Ale or a citrus-tinged Passion Beer at Nha Trang's Louisiane Brewhouse any day of the week. Reserve an umbrella and a beach chair with views of the South China Sea for 35,000 Vietnamese đồng (about $1.68) and spend a leisurely afternoon choosing a favorite by working your way through their tasting tray ($4.80 for four 200 ml glasses). Or, if you find yourself island hopping in Cambodia and craving some refreshment with a shade of bitterness, ask for Clouded Leopard Pilsener (usually around $2), made by Kingdom Breweries in Phnom Penh. The mildly spicy Saaz and Hallertau hops used in this beer mean that even without a wedge of lime, you can count on plenty of taste.

Fountains of Wayne: The Troubadours of Travel

2011-08-28T20:20:00.004-04:00

"Radiation Vibe" was the first Fountains of Wayne song I can remember hearing. Their debut album appeared as I started my freshman year at Kenyon College, and I played it until I'd memorized every drum fill. To my ears, it's just as much of a near-perfect power pop song now as it was 15 years ago. Earlier this month the band released Sky Full of Holes, their fifth studio album, and listening to it this week I realized something about their lyrics. Over time, the theme of travel shows up with greater frequency.

It stands out more on their second album, Utopia Parkway, but even "Radiation Vibe" hints at a certain longing to move. Maybe it's just a commute, a summer escape from the city (lots of their songs are set in and around New York), or a three-minute chronicle of life on tour, but again and again songwriters Collingwood and Schlesinger return to the subject of travel for their clever compositions. Since these songs also happen to be some of my favorites, I decided to compile a short tracklist that makes my point. Here they are, in no particular order:

A Dip in the Ocean (Sample lyric: The waterfront is alight with citronella flame/Tourists flashing the night from the grottoes/And gathering now on the heel-worn planks/For a drunken promenade or a mambo)
Acela (Sample lyric: When they called All Aboard/You were nowhere to be found/Though you swore, you were sure/You'd come with me out of town)
Fire in the Canyon (Sample lyric: And I'm checking out the roadsigns/Highway hotels/And their air-conditioned cable-ready cold padded cells)
I-95 (Sample lyric: They've got most of the Barney DVDs/Coffee mugs and tees/That say Virginia is For Lovers but it's not/Round here it's just for truckers who forgot/To fill up on gasoline/Back up near Aberdeen)
New Routine (Sample lyric: Two men sit in the corner of a diner/One of them says I might take a trip to China/It's one of those things we should do before we're too old/Thanks but no thanks, bring me back an egg roll)
Trains and Boats and Planes (Sample lyric: Trains and boats and planes are passing by/They mean a trip to Paris or Rome/To someone else but not for me/The trains and boats and planes/Took you away, away from me)
No Better Place (Sample lyric: And it's running back and forth inside your mind/Just how that town defined you, dressed you up, painted your face/And now you're leaving New York/For no better place)
Bought for a Song (Sample lyric: Tried to take a shuttle to Spain/They kicked me off the plane/I guess I'll go to Japan/It all looks the same when you stump for the man)
Utopia Parkway (Sample lyric: I got it made, I got it down/ I am the king of this island town/ I'm on my own, I'm on my way/Down Utopia Parkway)
The Valley of Malls (Sample lyric: They drive in Winnebagos from the Everglades/Pulled over by the troopers in the mirror shades/ The Caravan is sorry/The driver has a twenty and change)

Road Tripping From Bangkok

2011-08-12T00:04:00.001-04:00

Every year millions of tourists flock to the Kingdom of Thailand, eager to see the Grand Palace, snorkel in the Andaman Sea, or maybe expand their culinary horizons. Well, whether or not they're aware of it, most of these people end up covering the same well-worn tourist trail: Bangkok, Chiang Mai, Phuket, Ko Samui, and Ko Phi Phi. Which isn't to say that these places aren't worth visiting, it's just that there's so much more to this country that you'll never really see from the window seat of a puddle jumper. I made more than a few overland journeys during the months I spent in Thailand, but one of my favorite trips was a drive south from the capital along the Gulf coast to Khao Sam Roi Yot National Park. Over the course of a long weekend, I learned a bit more about the region's history, tried a ton of incredible food at the Amphawa floating market (pla meuk yang anyone?), and documented my stops with a smattering of photographs.

Two Minute Interview: Bob Nanna

2011-07-27T09:23:00.001-04:00

I first heard Braid while I was a student at Kenyon College. Unfortunately, the band released what would be their final album during the second semester of my sophomore year. The following fall, songs like "Killing a Camera" found their way into my weekly radio broadcast from WKCO's basement studio. At age twenty, the urgency and immediacy of Braid's music was important to me, and listening to Frame and Canvas now, I can still understand its appeal. After a 13 year absence, Braid reunited last year to record the Closer to Closed EP, available now for pre-order from Polyvinyl Records. Guitarist and vocalist Bob Nanna made time to talk about drug-sniffing dogs, the loneliness of the road, and his future touring aspirations in my fourth installment of the Two Minute Interview.

As a band that's played 597 shows (and counting) in dozens of states and countries, how do you think travel has influenced your musical development? It definitely has but not in a direct musical way. So often when you're touring around the states or other countries even though the cultures can be drastically different, the music still is very similar, very familiar. If anything, all of the traveling makes us more rounded people in general, more rounded bandmates and songwriters, having new experiences all the time.
When you were abroad, were there specific things from the US that you missed more than others? When Braid was in Europe, we did almost three months over two trips in 1998. This was before the internet was ubiquitous. If you wanted to call home to talk to your girlfriend, family, spouse, etc, you had to wait in line at pay phones cause we ALL did. That was the worst thing. Just missing the people, especially during the tougher times. You couldn't just get on your cell phone or laptop and "Skype it out." You felt a lot more isolated. Things have changed!
Describe something surprising, humorous, or disappointing that happened in your travels. I used to keep really detailed journals of all of our tours and I still have them. I haven't looked back at them recently though. I do recall during our first European tour getting stopped at almost EVERY border crossing, having to unload the vans and let the dogs go sniffing. One particular crossing, I believe at the Czech Republic, we were searched and the guards found a grungy Ziploc bag of vitamins in Todd's bag. I remember him flexing his muscles at the guards and saying "Make you strong!"
Many groups compose songs while touring—during sound checks, in the van, etc. Is that also true for Braid? If so, which songs came to life that way? Yes, for sure. We haven't written songs on the road in awhile but we used to do it all of the time. If there was downtime at someone's house before a show, Chris and I would pull out the guitars and start working on something. "Never Will Come For Us" in particular was written primarily on the road. We would also do fun stuff like swap band members with touring partners to create different bands that would play a song at the evening's show.
As a fan, do you have any enduring concert-going memories? Who did you see and where? Of course! My favorite show ever was seeing Jawbreaker at McGregor's in Elmhurst, Illinois in 1992. I left that show completely moved and exhausted! Another memory I like was when Hey Mercedes all went to see The Notwist at the Metro in Chicago. We all paid full price for the tickets and stood together and just took it all in.
Do you look forward to touring, seeing new cities through the eyes of a working musician, or would you rather be writing and recording from the comforts of home? Have you been introduced to other great bands while on tour? I love traveling a little more than "touring" if that makes sense. If I could just tour around like a band and do everything a band does other than playing and selling merch, it'd be like heaven! So in that sense, yeah I look forward to getting out there, away from home for awhile, but I do find it easier to write in the comforts of home. Using the travels as inspiration of course. And we're always learning about new bands on tour. The aforementioned Notwist for example was introduced to us when we were in Germany in 1998. A friend gave us a cassette for the van and said "this is the best band in Germany right now." We listened to it constantly!
You returned to Canada, Europe, and Japan a few times as a band. What are some of the most memorable places you performed and why? Where would you go back first now? We were super fortunate to be able to travel to all of those places on numerous occasions so in terms of memories, I'd say the first time we were in each of them. I'm most proud of the outlying areas we were able to hit—Halifax, Croatia, Hawaii all come to mind. While I'd love to go back to those places, I'd be more interested in places Braid hasn't gone: Australia, Brazil, Alaska even!

Over the Hudson for Rails to Trails

2011-07-21T01:23:00.001-04:00

It was an overcast morning last autumn when I boarded the train to Poughkeepsie. Arriving at the Queen City of the Hudson, I walked uphill from the station to Parker Avenue, where I soon found the entrance to the world's longest pedestrian bridge, the Walkway Over the Hudson. I had made the journey north from New York before, but that day I was on assignment for Rails to Trails, researching my second piece for the magazine.

In the two years since the 1.3-mile long recreational trail opened to the public, it's won awards from the Society for Industrial Archeology, the Environmental Protection Agency, and the International Bridge Conference. And with a new connection to the Hudson Valley Rail Trail on the west side of the Walkway, the park is an ideal place to get some exercise or take the dog for a walk. Both ends of the bridge are also wheelchair accessible. But the dramatic views up and down the river make it worth visiting even if you're not inclined to take Metro North to Poughkeepsie for a workout. Read more about the Walkway—easily one of my favorite places in the Hudson Valley—in the fall issue of Rails to Trails.

Chicken and Beer in Bacolod City

2011-07-11T15:20:00.003-04:00

The place was called Chicken House. My host, Lyn Balboa, had taken me there to try chicken inasal, a dish many Negrense, or Filipinos from the island of Negros, consider a delicacy. This is because it's the best barbecued poultry you will ever taste. Succulent, immensely flavorful (thanks to a lengthy marinade), and served with vinegar, it's a must try for anyone traveling to Bacolod City, the capital of Negros. Unsurprisingly, chicken inasal also goes well with beer.

Most of the suds you're likely to drink in the Philippines are made by the same giant brewery: San Miguel. By their own estimate they control about 95 percent of the domestic beer market. What I didn't know before visiting the City of Smiles however, is that for the past three years, one entrepreneur has quietly been producing his own beers and distributing them locally. As luck would have it, Lyn knew the brewer and invited him to join us at the Chicken House.

"I had this dream ever since college," Felix Hagad told me as he sat down at our table, "it's been a slow process and I had to make my friends taste bad beer in the beginning. I couldn't get it to bubble enough."

Fortunately for his friends—and globetrotting beer travelers like me— those days are well behind him. I didn't try the Bogsbrew Classic (somewhat confusingly offered as an IPA, a Canadian blonde ale, a European lager, and a Mexican-style cerveza), but I liked his Primo all-grain beer, a cloudy, light bodied drink that weighs in at about 4.5 % ABV. I detected a trace of hops in the nose, and it ended with a sweet finish, probably owing to the wild bee honey and organic muscovado sugar that Felix adds to his wort. Overall, Primo is mellow and sessionable, although it could benefit from a bit more carbonation.

Nevertheless, the popularity of his craft brews has only increased since he realized his dream, even attracting the attention of a Canadian beer blogger. "Business is picking up," Felix wrote in a recent email. "I now have to brew an extra batch of Primo in between my normal cycle of brewing malt extract beer." With a furniture manufacturing company to run in addition to Bogs, it must be challenging to keep up with the growing demand for his Filipino beers. And yet something tells me I'm not the only inasal devotee who wants to see his labor of love succeed.

Jersey Jaunts with Junior

2011-06-29T01:46:00.000-04:00

School's out and summer's here. If you have children, this probably means that you're looking for ways to keep them busy and out of trouble. One relatively easy option is to get kids outdoors: take them to a park, teach them how to canoe or kayak, or show them how to pitch a tent. You'll be able to bond over the experience and they'll have fun learning something that doesn't involve homework and pop quizzes.

For parents in New York and New Jersey, my story in the July issue of New Jersey Family explains how to prepare for a camping trip with kids, and suggests seven places to go for under $65 a night. I also offer a short list of camping packing essentials and recommend several books that will take the guesswork out of planning a weekend in the woods. The Best in Tent Camping: New Jersey (part of a series published by Menasha Ridge Press) is a good bet for purists in search of scenic and serene campsites while Camp Out!: The Ultimate Kids' Guide is written for the younger reader who wants to help mom and dad plan for an overnight in the backwoods or the backyard.

A Layover for Beer Lovers

2011-06-18T23:45:00.002-04:00

My first visit to Berlin lasted all of 15 hours. Looking for flights from Bangkok to New York a few weeks earlier, I had found a decent fare on airberlin that involved a layover at Tegel Airport (TXL). Initially I was reluctant to purchase the one-way ticket, thinking a mere overnight stay in the German capital wouldn't necessarily be the best introduction to a city I hadn't been to before. But then an Internet search led me to Brauhaus in Spandau, a hotel and brewpub roughly 20 minutes from the airport by taxi.

And so, shortly before Memorial Day, I found myself climbing the stairs to a clean, comfortable room overlooking the brewery's shady beer garden. I could hardly have wished for nicer accommodations. Including a generous breakfast the next morning, my bill came to 73 Euros (roughly $104), a price I would happily pay again to avoid spending the night in a dreary airport hotel. The beer voucher and complimentary package of Gold-Bears on my nightstand were nice touches, too.

For dinner I ordered currywurst (as if skipping Berlin's culinary emblem was ever an option) and a Havelbräu, named for the river that flows nearby. Dirty blond with a bready aroma and a creamy mouthfeel, this kellerbier or unfiltered lager is relatively strong (5.2% ABV) but low in bitterness with a somewhat sweet finish. It went well with the platter of fries that accompanied my sausage and made for a refreshing drink on an early spring evening. Available year round, Havelbräu might not be reason enough to plan a Tegel layover before Berlin's new Brandenburg Airport opens next year, but it isn't a bad way to break up a long trip either.

South Mountain Reservation Guided Hike

2011-06-02T02:12:00.003-04:00

Join me at South Mountain Reservation on Saturday, June 4th for a guided hike in Millburn, New Jersey. Beginning on the Lenape Trail, this moderately difficult, scenic route offers sweeping views across Newark Bay to Staten Island and passes by Hemlock Falls before turning back to the Locust Grove parking lot. Get a little exercise, support a local park, and celebrate America's 200,000 miles of trails. Hikers should bring sturdy footwear and a reusable water bottle; granola bars will be provided. Please note that this event is rain or shine.

For additional day trip ideas in New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut, pick up a copy of my new guidebook, Best Hikes Near New York City.

Trailing the Wilderness Prophet

2011-05-29T10:51:00.020-04:00

In early June of 1869, a then 31-year old John Muir arrived in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains where he would spend the next few months with a flock of sheep, their shepherd Billy, and a friendly St. Bernard named Carlo. Enchanted by what he saw, Muir filled his notebook with notes and sketches, and in 1911 published them as My First Summer in the Sierra. Last month Houghton Mifflin Harcourt released a 100th Anniversary Illustrated Edition of the book, with lavish color photography by Scot Miller. It's an attractive volume, and one that will likely inspire fans of the Scottish-American naturalist to visit his beloved Yosemite National Park.

Muir left his mark on California and the West in many ways though, and it's possible to travel to some of the other places that were significant to him during his lifetime, too. I wrote about five of them for the San Francisco Chronicle, but many more certainly exist. Quite a few are worth seeing. Wherever you ultimately decide to go yourself, consider this sentence from My First Summer: "Nature as a poet, an enthusiastic workingman, becomes more and more visible the farther and higher we go; for the mountains are fountains—beginning places, however related to sources beyond mortal ken."

Photography courtesy of the John Muir National Historic Site

Best Hikes Near NYC Book Trailer

2011-05-20T07:05:00.000-04:00

Mostly because I'd never used iMovie before, making my first book trailer took longer than it should have. But in spite of the time I devoted to it, I doubt anyone is going to mistake me for an auteur anytime soon. That said, I do hope this short video will encourage locals as well as visitors to consider day hikes as another fun way to experience greater New York this summer. To purchase a copy of my new hiking guide, I recommend supporting local business by shopping at an independent bookstore near you.

Welsh Craft Cider

2011-05-18T12:41:00.002-04:00

Last September I spent a week in Wales. It wasn't my first trip to this mountainous country, but in a very real sense I was seeing Wales anew. Because while I did spend a night in Cardiff and even managed a short hike in Brecon Beacons National Park, I missed many of the things that people travel here for: castles, museums, rugby, or in a few rare cases, bog snorkeling. Instead, the purpose of my visit was to drink cider.

Beginning in Swansea, I drove through the rain to the westernmost end of Pembrokeshire, across the Cambrian Mountains into Powys, and then back south again into the Valleys. Over the course of seven days I met craft cider makers and drinkers, along with a number of friendly Welsh bartenders and innkeepers. Somewhat unexpectedly, I also became a bit of a cider connoisseur myself. If you're curious about the drink and its origins, read about my trip in the current issue of DRAFT magazine or consider attending the world's first International Craft Cider Festival at Llancaiach Fawr Manor in August.

The Daang Kastila Trail

2011-05-06T02:35:00.006-04:00

The boat knifed across the lake, sending a steady spray of water over the gunwales and drenching the two passengers huddled near the rear. Gradually, the hazy gray shape I'd seen in the distance became a landmass, and my girlfriend and I would soon reach its shore. Up ahead, at the water's edge, other small, colorful boats waited for the return of their captains like dogs leashed outside a bodega. Beyond the rickety docks, a large sign welcomed new arrivals to Taal Lake and drab single-storey buildings clustered together to form some semblance of a town. Before long, we hoped, we'd be staring down into the beating heart of this volcanic island.

What we didn't know at the time was that Taal is one of the most active volcanoes in the Philippines, and one of the most destructive. In 1911, one hundred years before our visit, a massive eruption killed more than a thousand people and caused extensive damage to surrounding areas in the province of Batangas. We had been drawn here by a geographic oddity: an island on a lake inside an island on a lake. Roughly five kilometers across, Volcano Island is essentially a collection of craters and cones created by over 30 eruptions since 1572, when Father Gaspar de San Augustin wrote "there is a volcano of fire which is wont to spit forth many and very large rocks, which are glowing and destroy the crops of the natives." The island has grown in size by 25% in the centuries since this first account, and to reach it, travelers must cross Taal Lake, a body of water that is itself a caldera, or massive crater.

For 1,500 pesos (about $35) we had been brought this far from the bus stop in Tagaytay. Upon landing, the third passenger on our boat—a native of the island's village—explained that we would need to pay several hundred pesos more to rent scrawny ponies to carry us up the side of the volcano. And that was in addition to the tourist's fee of 50 pesos per person. The young women staffing the welcome center reiterated the supposed terms of entrance to us again, but eventually gave up when we kept insisting on hiking to the top. Although my girlfriend and I knew little about the volcano's history, we were well aware that several paths led to the edge of the smaller of the two crater lakes.

Given that it was already late afternoon, we chose to follow the Daang Kastila Trail, the busiest and most direct route to the center of the island. Ticket stubs in hand, we walked back outside and proceeded up the dusty track to the summit. Moving past a small corral, we followed a train of ponies through the village where dogs, chickens, and children scrambled to get out of the way of oncoming traffic. No signs marked the trail, but it wasn't difficult to find—groups of mounted tourists trotted by regularly, busily texting friends or twisting in their saddles to snap a photo during their bumpy descent. We completed the climb in less than an hour, and fortunately managed to time our return trip with the sunset.

As eerie as it was to feel heat radiating from beneath my boots and to catch the occasional whiff of sulfur on the breeze, I'm glad to have hiked Daang Kastila, especially when I did. According to the Philippine Institute of Volcanology and Seismology, Taal has recently experienced a series of volcanic earthquakes and the crater lake has become more acidic, even as its temperature has risen by nearly four degrees Fahrenheit. As of last week, Volcano Island was off limits to tourists. Before making your own plans to undertake a volcano hike in the Philippines, be sure to consult the Department of Tourism's website for relevant travel advisories.

A Spring Cleaning

2011-04-27T04:57:00.002-04:00

Two weeks ago I found myself running for my life. The day before, my friends and I had turned up in Sangkhlaburi, a sleepy little town near the Burmese border at the northern end of the Khao Laem Reservoir. Only we were arriving during the one time that the entire country of Thailand happens to be wide awake: the Thai New Year. Better known as Songkran, this famously boisterous holiday can trace many of its traditions back to the fourteenth century and the kingdom of Ramathibodi in Ayutthaya.

Flash forward to the present however, and I'm sprinting from a pack of heavily armed, Hawaiian shirt-wearing assailants in a futile attempt to stay dry. Because while Thais do observe the holiday in a variety of ways, the celebration today is defined by a prolonged, nationwide water fight. And I hadn't brought anything to defend myself with. Far from menacing, the kids in town nonetheless knew how to use their squirt guns and water buckets, and took great pleasure in drenching a conspicuous group of farang. View more pictures from the Songkran Festival in my Kanchanaburi photo set.

Breakfast at Table Mountain

2011-04-21T09:44:00.001-04:00

For the first time in five days it had stopped raining. Above me, the Welsh sky was a vivid cerulean blue, set off against the evergreen slopes of the Black Mountains. The air meanwhile, smelled of spruce and sheep droppings. Not necessarily the most welcome aroma first thing in the morning, but I didn’t care. I was content to simply stretch my legs for an hour or two. Balancing on the steps of a stile that led over an old farm wall, I paused to consider the smartest thing I’d done all week: slow down.

Thus far, my impressions of the little country squeezed between England and the Irish Sea had been formed from the driver’s seat of a rented car. Morning after dreary morning I’d picked at plates of fried eggs, fried sausage, fried mushrooms, and yes, fried tomatoes, before setting off under cloudy skies on a peculiar mission. As a beer writer and aspiring brewer, I had designed a trip around a handful of cider makers in southern Wales. The problem was, my busy itinerary made no allowances for leisurely mornings or accidental discoveries. And so, for five straight days I wolfed down hearty if unhealthy meals in order to keep my appointments with apple growers.

Today however, was different. Encouraged by the muted yellow glow creeping under the curtain of my room at the Bear Inn in Crickhowell, I decided to forgo the complimentary breakfast and postpone my afternoon plans. Instead of loading up on calories, I would splurge on a change of scenery. This was my chance to see Wales before she put on her Wellies. Remembering a map of the area I’d picked up at Reception the night before, I took a look at the town plan and discovered that the Beacons Way, a one-hundred-mile hiking trail across Brecon Beacons National Park ran quite close to the hamlet. Estimating the distance from my hotel to the trailhead, I figured I could make it to the nearest mountain and back before checkout time. Crug Hywel. My tongue stumbled on the words as I sounded out its Celtic syllables. But a symbol on the map intrigued me; during the Iron Age a hill fort stood atop the 1,480-foot summit of Table Mountain. I wondered whether any part of the prehistoric fortification survived.

Not sure what I’d find but wanting to take advantage of a bright autumn morning, I set out with a bottle of water and a package of shortbread to quiet my stomach. While I climbed the small massif, the sun rose in the sky, its rays warming my skin under the black T-shirt I wore. Underfoot the thick carpet of moss and grass was wet from consecutive days of foul weather. Soon my socks were damp, too. Pushing through the garden of ferns growing on the mountain’s slopes, I decided to eat a few of the plump blackberries I had picked earlier on. Popping a piece of fruit into my mouth, I savored its sweet taste as I walked. Part of me dreaded returning to the car.

At the halfway point I stopped to listen. Unseen birds called to each other from either side of the footpath and somewhere a dog barked repeatedly, alerting anyone within earshot of a stranger’s presence. Soon I would rest, but I still had a short distance to go. Steadying myself with the aid of the stile’s wooden post, worn smooth by years of passers-by, I swung my leg over the stone barrier in front of me, and focused my gaze on the flat landform ahead: Table Mountain.

Half an hour later I reached a fork in the trail and followed the left branch as it curved behind the landmass, leading through another minefield of manure. In spite of the passage of time, Crug Hywel remained well defended. Carefully selecting my last few steps, I wished I had brought another pair of shoes. I couldn’t let footwear derail me this close to my destination though. I scrambled over the eroded rampart, eager to soak up the view and investigate any prehistoric ruins.

The top of the hill was already occupied. Everywhere I looked sheep milled about in small groups, rested in pairs, or leisurely grazed on the grassy summit. They scattered when I got too close, but otherwise seemed uninterested in bipedal company. I thought of the flock of tourists back at the Bear Inn, staring out at a tiny courtyard from a drab dining room. Sure, I was missing breakfast, but the chance to see the countryside more than made up for any lost calories. I drained the rest of my water bottle and bit into the first of my buttery shortbread cookies. Even though I wasn’t particularly hungry yet, the crumbly snack tasted good—as good as some of the more extravagant meals I’ve enjoyed in my travels. Breakfast on the road might be just as important as it is at home, but not necessarily because of the food we order. What counts, I decided then, is where we choose to eat it.

Suddenly I heard noisy breathing behind me. Something moist brushed against the hand that held my now empty water bottle. Turning around, I found myself nose to nose with a hungry ruminant. She took a step backward, hesitantly. Happy to spend some time with a local, I broke off a piece of shortbread and slowly offered it to my new friend. Breakfast at Table Mountain would be for two.

Two Minute Interview: Marcellus Hall

2011-04-11T06:03:00.002-04:00

Sure, a brassy horn part can reliably put a smile on my face, but when it comes to my favorite songs, I'm partial to those with clever lyrics. Few other things stick with me as long as a creative phrase set to music. Shortly after moving to New York, I started listening to White Hassle, and often found myself walking around Manhattan with one of their wordier songs stuck in my head. It's been several years since the band has toured, and even longer since their last recording, but in February Glacial Pace released The First Line, the debut album from former White Hassle vocalist/guitarist Marcellus Hall. In this, the third Two Minute Interview, he spoke to me about Beavis and Butt-Head, stardom in Holland, and home-cooked meals in Italy.

What are some of the most memorable places you've performed, and why? Where would you go back first? Railroad Jerk enjoyed brief inexplicable stardom in Holland for a time. That was fun. White Hassle performed at the Queen Mary in Long Beach, California for All Tomorrow's Parties. I remember the weather was perfect. Japan welcomed Railroad Jerk with sincere enthusiasm. I would love to return there some time. Some places in Italy were memorable. An Italian promoter's mother once cooked us a delicious lunch before we hit the road for the next town. A friend tells me that if I were to learn a lot of Eagles songs, Thailand would welcome me with open arms.
Describe something surprising, humorous, or disappointing that's happened in your travels. I recall poking fun at the European stereotype of Americans by playing that stereotype in a conversation with some Italians not long after September 11th, 2001. They were remarking on how it was the first time, besides Pearl Harbor, that the United States was attacked on its own soil. I assumed an earnest expression and said, "Oh no, that's not true. When America first started we were attacked repeatedly by the Indians!" The Italians' expressions of outrage, and uncertainty about whether I was serious or not, were priceless. Another funny experience was when Railroad Jerk and Chavez were touring Europe. Dave Varenka, Railroad Jerk's drummer, and I were traveling in a separate vehicle (there was a van and a car that we all took turns riding in). The show that night was in Ljubljana, the capital. When we got to the Slovenian border, Dave and I and our German driver were welcomed. The van, however, with Chavez and the other Railroad Jerk members, happened to go to the wrong entry point and was not allowed into the country. Without cell phones at the time, Dave and I and the anxious Slovenian promoter waited at the club unaware of what happened to the others. When the rock-hungry Slovenian fans began entering the club, the promoter turned to us and asked if we could somehow perform. It just so happened that Dave and I had just finished recording our debut album as a duo under the name White Hassle. We borrowed a guitar, an amp, some drums, and random pieces of metal and put on one of our best shows. The audience loved it and we were treated like kings. Chavez and the other members of Railroad Jerk, of course, were pissed. They had spent the night at some dreary hotel, while Dave and I rocked Ljubljana.
When you were starting out with Railroad Jerk, or even with White Hassle, where did you dream of playing live? Our dreams were modest. Each step in the lives of both bands was a nice surprise. Just getting a record deal was unexpected. Railroad Jerk was featured on Beavis and Butt-Head and White Hassle got to record for the John Peel show in England. Those were exciting breaks. To play in front of a large audience was a dream that eventually came true. Opening up for some better known bands and playing festivals allowed that.
As a fan, do you have any enduring concert-going memories? Who did you see? When I was in college (and just after that) I went to see a lot of bands that influenced me (for better or worse). Among them were Big Black, The Pixies, Pussy Galore, Killdozer, The Jesus Lizard, Galaxie 500, The Replacements, The Ramones, Sonic Youth, Black Flag, Jonathan Richman, Richard Thompson, Sugar Blue, The Beastie Boys, Dinosaur Jr., The Throwing Muses, Dave Thomas, Half Japanese, The Cramps, The Gun Club, Leonard Cohen, Nick Cave, Peter Tosh, Jimmy Cliff, Bunny Wailer, The Swans, Live Skull, Mudhoney, Soundgarden, White Zombie, and Firehose.
Many groups compose songs on the road (during sound checks, in the van, etc.) and tracks like "One Drop of Rain" and "Don't Go" seem to be about distance, meetings, and partings. Did anything on The First Line come to life that way? Very few of the songs on The First Line came about on the road. On the other hand, the two tracks you mention are indeed about distance, meetings, and partings. The former is actually a true story.
Do you look forward to touring, seeing cities through the eyes of a working musician, or would you rather be writing and recording from the comforts of home? I admit to having soured over the years on the rigors of touring. That being said, it's been a while since I was last on the road and I'm raring to give it another go. There is a certain giddiness and romance one feels in rolling into a town and then high-tailing it out the next morning (or even, in some cases, that very night). Like the Beatles though, I do enjoy recording.
As a musician (or even as a visual artist) what do you find most exciting or inspiring about New York at the moment? The things I find exciting about New York now are the same things I have always found exciting about New York: the diversity, the history, and the energy of the people.

A Dispatch for DestinAsian

2011-04-05T07:04:00.001-04:00

Thailand has roughly 450 kilometers of expressways. Occasionally, it can feel like every other person in the country is using them to get somewhere at the same time. For that reason, driving here is not always a pleasant experience. As for the rules of the road, the Rough Guide to Thailand helpfully remarks that "there are few rules that are generally followed—you'll need to keep your concentration up and expect the unexpected." Fodor's meanwhile, sums up the situation much more bluntly: "Driving in Thailand is not for the faint of heart."

Traffic and safety concerns aside, a road trip through this complicated nation does yield rewards, as I discovered while on assignment for DestinAsian magazine. In a piece entitled "Thailand Uncorked," I traveled to Khao Yai, where several members of the Thai Wine Association are working together to promote a wine trail. Driving between the three vineyards featured in my story, I got a glimpse of Thailand that you'll never see by sticking to bus routes and train lines. In fact, if it weren't for my road trip to wine country, I might never have discovered Palio Khao Yai.

Southeast Asia's Little Italy

2011-03-31T01:08:00.003-04:00

Last Sunday was a strange day. Following an afternoon spent puttering around the oldest national park in Thailand, I ended up eating dinner at one of the country's newest attractions: Palio Khao Yai, a "walking street shopping center in Italian-style village mall." Got that? A personal recommendation had led my friends and I to hunt for a burger joint south of the town of Pak Chong, and after mistakenly driving past a vaguely European complex, we found ourselves paying 20 baht each to enter this warren of terracotta-colored buildings. Call it the Little Italy of Southeast Asia.

As out of place as it seemed architecturally, what struck me about Palio was its obvious allure to amateur Thai photographers. While we were there, dozens of people streamed through the gate, usually in couples, and always with cameras. I smirked as they posed in front of the fountain in the piazza, and shook my head in disbelief as they led tiny dogs in sweaters down faux-cobblestone streets. Apparently the ability to shoot portraits against a "Tuscan" backdrop trumped the appeal of creatively-named cafes like Fries Me To The Moon.

It seemed silly to me at the time, but when I thought about it later, I realized that I'd misjudged things. After all, whether or not it's international, a big part of travel is making memories, and for most of us, taking pictures is part of that process. Did I really think that my images of waterfalls and wildlife somehow showed a more authentic side of Thailand? True, I'm the kind of person who prefers hiking to shopping, but a park is a tourist attraction too, and in the end, they're all competing for visitors. In that sense, maybe Palio Khao Yai isn't such a strange place to spend a Sunday.

Beer-Themed Travel Guides

2011-03-22T05:25:00.001-04:00

Above all, I travel to taste. In every country I've visited, from Canada to Panama, Scotland to Thailand, my goal is almost always to find a beguiling beer that captures something about the essence of a particular place. Because even though the internet has made it possible to see parts of the world that we could once only imagine, we still have to travel farther than our well-provisioned kitchens to truly experience foreign flavors. If you ask me though, the pursuit of good food and beer are two of the best reasons to leave home in the first place.

Earlier this month, I published two stories about beer-themed travel. The first, entitled "Rooms with a Brew," was inspired by a trip to Texas that included a stop at the Fredericksburg Brewing Company in Hill Country. Roughly a year later, I found myself spending two nights at Maltsters, a pub in Llandaff on the northern edge of Cardiff, Wales. Built in 1310, it's probably the oldest licensed pub in the city, but you'd never know it from the look of their rooms or the taste of their breakfast menu. In the second story, I list "Eight of the Best German-Style Beer Halls Outside of Germany." Of course I could have included more than eight locations, but I figured one rule of beer drinking should probably also apply to list-making: Know your limits.

Hiking the Big Apple

2011-03-04T01:05:00.003-05:00

Almost exactly a year ago today, I was approached by a publisher to author a book. As a former nonfiction editor, I spent close to a decade helping dozens of writers develop their titles, and occasionally I wondered about my own aptitude for writing something more than a few thousand words in length. Of course, none of the projects I envisioned ended up becoming my first book. Instead, my career as an author will begin on April 1st (no, I'm not kidding) with Best Hikes Near New York City.

In the end, it took the better part of six months to research, map, photograph, and transcribe the notes I scribbled on the trail. My blog certainly suffered for a while, and I saw less of my friends. It turns out a ten-mile walk in the woods at the height of summer isn't everyone's idea of a good time. Looking back though, I'm still glad I took the job and I hope I've produced a guide that's useful and unique. If you're going to be in the New York area later this year, watch this space for news about guided trips* to a few of my favorite parks.

*Please note that any and all hikes I lead will absolutely end at a bar serving pints of local craft beer.

Thailand's Ice Cream Innovation

2011-02-22T08:49:00.000-05:00

With less than a week remaining in February, the temperatures have begun to creep up in Bangkok. This is of course, a sure sign of one thing and one thing only—the approach of the Hot Season. Gone are the tolerable eighty-degree days when a welcome breeze might stir the bougainvillea on a quiet soi in Ari. Slowly but unquestionably they're being replaced by oppressive humidity and baking heat. Needless to say, this isn't good news for anyone, least of all those of us who break a sweat just thinking about the long walk to the SkyTrain.

Fortunately, like the people themselves, Thai street food has adapted to the climatic extremes of Southeast Asia. And so, where a lemonade or a granita might do in another city, there's only one warm weather treat that can offer adequate relief for Bangkok's steamy afternoons: Coconut Ice Cream. Served in a cake cone or (preferably) on a hot dog roll, this inexpensive, frozen confection is typically cold enough to make your teeth ache with their first frigid bite. For the full experience, order it with roasted peanuts, sticky rice, sweetened gelatin, candied sweet potato, and to top it all off, a generous pour of condensed milk.

The Morning After: Manhattan

2011-02-11T19:54:00.001-05:00

Sweet or savory, affordable or extravagant, I'm a big fan of brunch. For that reason, I was more than happy to accept another assignment from DRAFT magazine. Writing for their Morning After department, I set out to find a handful of restaurants in Manhattan with excellent brunch offerings. Choosing them was far from easy, but in the end I narrowed it down to three places.

One of them, Resto on East 29th Street, also happens to have an impressive list of beers that includes (among many other things) pale ales, dubbels, and saisons from Luxembourg, Belgium, and Cooperstown, New York. If you're a beer drinker and plan to be in the city for more than 24 hours, do yourself a favor and pay them a visit. You'll want to take your time with their menu. To find out what my other picks were, track down a copy of the magazine, or sign up for a free preview of the digital edition.

The 5 Best-Kept Secrets About Ko Phi Phi

2011-02-03T11:53:00.002-05:00

One of the most popular destinations in Thailand, Ko Phi Phi Don might also be one of world’s best-known islands. Every day ferries deposit scores of sun-worshippers and partygoers on the shores of this limestone landmass in the Andaman Sea. I made my own trip there with some friends a few years ago, and plan to go back before 2011 is over. It really deserves the hype. And although you don't have to stay long to appreciate its appeal, Phi Phi also has a few secrets to reveal to those who come looking.

The Soundtrack. Forget the beach—well, not entirely—and acquaint yourself with the marine life inhabiting the lagoons of Ko Phi Phi Leh, Phi Phi Don’s little brother next door. While tour groups crowd the strip of sugary white sand seen in The Beach, grab fins and a snorkel to hear one of the most remarkable sounds beneath the waves: hundreds of blue parrotfish munching and crunching on coral.
The View. Sure, cocktails and camaraderie are great for a while, but don’t fall into the trap of spending all your time in Ton Sai Village. Swap out your flip flops for sturdier footwear and head uphill for stunning views above Ao Loh Dalum and Ao Ton Sai. The walk to the top is no more than 25 minutes and adventurous visitors can descend the east side of the island to reach a trio of secluded beaches.
The Scenery. Sunbathing and swimming definitely have their merits, and Phi Phi doesn’t lack for nightlife. Yet with its tranquil coves, busy docks, plentiful sea birds, and favorable lighting, it’s also a photographer’s dream. Do some scouting when you arrive, and then wake up early the next morning for an hour or two of shooting.
Peace and Quiet. Given the crowds, Phi Phi might not seem like a place to get away from it all. But many day-trippers and overnighters stick to the sandbar connecting the cliffs of Ko Nok with those of Ko Nai. For a more relaxed environment, hire a longboat to Laem Tong at the north end of the island, where the accommodations offer a refreshing alternative to the busy bungalows in the south.
Its History. Not far from Laem Tong a community of chao ley, or sea gypsies, have established a small village just beyond the hotels. For several hundred years these nomadic people have made a living fishing, collecting shells, and bird-nesting in the waters of the Andaman. The chao ley retain a distinct language and culture in spite of efforts by the Thai government to promote assimilation.

The Cheapest Beer in the World

2011-01-27T12:59:00.002-05:00

Maybe so. But I haven't checked that fact just yet. What I am sure of however, is that at 4,000 Vietnamese Dong (about $0.20) apiece, I could afford to have two. And so, on a chilly January night in Hanoi, I exchanged a pair of crumpled bills for my first taste of bia hơi.

It was after 10 p.m. when I found a vendor on Luong Ngoc Quyen, a short distance from the intersection known internationally as bia hoi corner. Curbside seating consisted of about a dozen knee-high, blue plastic stools, so I grabbed one and sat down to take my first swig of Hanoi lager. Light-bodied, low in alcohol, and extremely drinkable, I could see the appeal of whiling away a warmer afternoon at one of the many "gas beer" outlets around the city. In the winter though, fewer people seemed eager to sit outside sipping oat soda until last call.

My beer didn't offer much in the way of aroma, but it was pleasantly carbonated, and produced a thick white head of foam. Complexity of flavor, on the other hand, is not something bia hơi aspires to. With a straw-like character and the faintest suggestion of hops in the finish, my glass of beer certainly wouldn't impress fans of the more inspired American craft brewers. It might be able to hold its own alongside some of the lighter Latin American lagers though. Personally, I had nothing to complain about—my stomach was full of the bánh mỳ I'd eaten for dinner, a comfortable hotel room awaited me nearby, and when it came to Vietnamese currency, I was still a millionaire.

An Icelandic Feast

2011-01-18T09:24:00.000-05:00

Last February I spent six days in Iceland. Unlike most visitors to Europe's westernmost country, I had chosen to travel to Reykjavik during the low season. In other words, the coldest, darkest month of the year. My seemingly strange timing wasn't an accident though—I had no illusions of galloping across a winter landscape to soak in a series of hot springs.

Instead, I would spend my Icelandic days and nights indoors. Eating. Here and there I had opportunities to taste-test one of my favorite foods. But the real reason for making the trip was to try putrefied shark, an infamous delicacy that has turned the stomach of Mr. No Reservations himself. Kaestur hákarl, as the dish is known locally, didn't exactly win me over either, but it taught me something about the mid-winter feast of Thorrablót. For more on my culinary saga, pick up the current issue of Wend magazine or read it online.

Two Minute Interview: Jessica Sligter

2011-01-10T23:44:00.001-05:00

I fell for Nordic music long before setting foot in Scandinavia. Visits to Norway helped me keep up with new artists for a while, but my most recent find wasn't mine at all. Friends happened to hear an album while hanging out at Oslo's Sound of Mu and, thinking of me, tracked down a copy before heading back to the States. I was flattered and impressed. In my second Two Minute Interview for Where and Back, I asked Jessica Sligter, the young singer and songwriter who performs under the pseudonym Jæ, about the journeys music has taken her on.

As someone who spends her time in Oslo, Amsterdam, and (occasionally) New York, how has travel influenced your music? There is a magic to things that are new to you. I'm addicted to that magic. The past four years I've been dividing my time between Oslo and Amsterdam, and then I've been a month here, a month there in Reykjavik or the US. Otherwise there was of course also touring in Western Europe and Scandinavia. When you travel you are on a constant high that influences what you do and how you do it. All my life I have been fascinated with the different worlds that people live in. The little cells that can differ so very much from each other. Each have their own character, their rules, their patterns. I like to move around in that landscape, and learn about people, learn about the diversity and the possibilities that life holds. So when I travel, I am in a constant state of receptiveness. On the other hand, that state can exhaust you, and you start to miss what you know well and feels safe: your house, your city, a language you understand without effort, your friends. Sometimes you get lonely and vulnerable.
Have you experienced something marvelous, funny, or tragic in your travels? Oh, many things! For me it's mostly the people and their characters. And local foods. I continue to be amazed by the wonders of food.
What are some of the most memorable places you've performed, and why? Badgerhaus in Raleigh, North Carolina. The house of a drone-musician—I forget his name—that looked like Halloween; there were huge spiders and skeletons everywhere, an audience of underground music nerds and computer programmer nerds. A trip I made with The Story of Modern Farming in Florida, where my friend Ross Brand took us under his wing. We played weird experimental improv to 50 ecstatic youngsters in a Tibetan diner in Tallahassee. We drove around a strange area and stayed at the beach house of Ross's step dad, a right-wing rich guy who liked guns. The whole area just fascinated me, it was very strange and ominous. I took a lot of inspiration from it writing for the Sacred Harp (a band I'm in, we're releasing an album in February). Many more, actually, but that's what came to mind right now.
As a fan, what's your favorite concert-going memory? That's a difficult one. The last years I couldn't really afford to go to concerts. The ones that I did see, I really enjoyed, but the ones that stick out in my mind right now are a noise+video+art performance by Brian McKenna and a concert by Serena Maneesh, the Norwegian shoegazing band, that blew me away with their amazing sound and light show; the whole package just excited me massively. You know, my memory is not that good. So I am very sure that I'm forgetting stuff here.
Who or what about the current music scene in Scandinavia excites you? In Norway there is a large scene for free improvisation, and amongst musicians a very contemporary mindset that goes beyond genre. I notice it more when I am spending time in other countries again, that it is really something special. It made me feel like I could breathe again, like I was unbound, free. This is a piece of Norway that I cherish and carry with me always.
Many groups compose songs on the road—during sound checks, in the van, etc. Did anything on Balls and Kittens come to life that way? In fact, the EP I self-released in 2009 was very much influenced by how I made it. I wrote and recorded in bedrooms, practice spaces, and coffeehouses in Amsterdam, Oslo, and Reykjavik. There are sounds on it of a music student fastening a bicycle-chain outside the Conservatory (currently I live right across the street), Tram number 12, the daughter of one of the members of Kaffi Hljomalind, a co-op coffeehouse in Reykjavik, and more. Now, thinking over the songs on that EP, I remember the intense feeling of those experiences, each with their own kind of beauty. The record, Balls and Kittens, Draught and Strangling Rain, also bears traces of travel. I guess it's inevitable. I've been touring and traveling quite a bit the last years. "Jim's Place" and "Adam's Place" were written in New York, when I was staying with each of them. And the latter tells about cultural confusion. "Shots Being Fired" is about when I came home from that trip, tired, and fell from one unpleasant situation into the next: "I came home from a burning fire, but here there's also shots being fired," and the loneliness of being away from your family and friends. "I Still Owe the Morning" tells about Amsterdam in the summer and a vacation I went on with my aunt, in Normandy.
Have you discovered anything remarkable on your various trips in Europe? Europe is so dense. The cultural differences relative to distance are much bigger than say, in the USA.

Serving Up Change, Peacefully

2010-12-31T23:24:00.003-05:00

Of course I found my favorite place in Siem Reap during my last few hours there. After three full days of touring Angkor Wat, clambering over ancient piles of brick and sandstone, my friends and I needed to refuel before making the eight hour land journey back to Bangkok. So, avoiding the Old Market's tourist-clogged streets and alleys, we crossed over to the eastern side of the Siem Reap River and followed Wat Bo Road to Peace Cafe.

Seconds after stepping into the shaded garden we knew we'd made the right choice. The vegetarian menu was excellent (I ordered an extra thick peanut butter shake and a panini with roasted red pepper and hummus) as well as affordable. Nothing was more than $4 and most dishes were in the $2 range. And while I decided against alcohol with lunch, I couldn't help noticing that they served beer, too. What impressed us most of all though, was their dedication to education and sustainable social enterprise.

Besides preparing healthy food, Peace Cafe runs Khmer cooking courses using fresh herbs grown in their garden. Khmer language lessons and yoga are offered five days a week and Pilates classes are held on Tuesdays and Fridays. Monk Chats on Wednesday and Saturday evenings serve as an informal (and free) introduction to Buddhism. Plus, anyone looking to leave with a Cambodian souvenir—edible or otherwise—will be happy to know about Peace Cafe's bakery and Fair Trade Shop. I would've stayed longer, but we had to catch a taxi to the Thai border. I do plan to make it back however. For more vegetarian dining suggestions in Siem Reap and elsewhere, visit HappyCow.

Fire Island Flavors

2010-12-21T21:46:00.004-05:00

Growing up near the U.S. Naval Academy and the Chesapeake Bay, it's almost a given that you'll develop an attraction to water. Which is part of the reason why I was happy to hop aboard a powerboat for my latest assignment from Edible East End. After crossing Great South Bay with Jeff, Greg, and Bert of the Fire Island Beer Company, I spent an autumn afternoon with them, grilling burgers, drinking beers, and tweaking the recipe for what would become Frozen Tail Ale. It was a lot of fun but I'm disappointed that I won't be able to try their winter warmer this year.

Incidentally, a subscription to the magazine that celebrates the harvest of the Hamptons and the North Fork also makes an excellent last-minute gift for the foodie on your Christmas shopping list. Then again, so does a six pack of craft beer.

Cambodia's Temple City

2010-12-17T02:25:00.003-05:00

Last weekend I made my first trip to Cambodia. Like countless other travelers, my primary reason for visiting was to see Angkor Archaeological Park, an enormous complex containing more than 300 Hindu and Buddhist monuments built between the 9th and 13th centuries. What struck me about the site though, other than the scale of the architecture itself, were the thousands of Khmer people eking out a living in the shadow of a ruined city; a former capital considered to have been one of the largest and most prosperous in Southeast Asia. Follow this link to view my photos from Angkor Wat.

Pairing Beer with the Great Outdoors

2010-12-08T11:20:00.001-05:00

On a steamy afternoon in mid-July, waiting out a thundershower at the Peekskill Brewery, I had an idea. Nothing earth-shattering mind you, but I jotted it down in the notebook I was carrying with me at the time. Which means that when the rain finally stopped it didn't drift off with the storm clouds. Perhaps it's the heat in Bangkok, or maybe I'm just pining for a pint of Peekskill's dry, sessionable Hop Common, but I was reminded of that same idea again today.

What if craft brewers positioned themselves to be the drink of choice for certain outdoor activities the way Coors, Miller, and Budweiser jockey to be the "official beer" of popular sports like baseball and football? Sure, the customer pool of NFL fans is considerably larger than the potential market for say, windsurfers, but then again, this audience will probably be more receptive to a product that isn't necessarily mainstream. Although last year, Anheuser-Busch made an attempt to court outdoor enthusiasts by choosing professional kayaker Eric Jackson as the face of their new American Ale.

Which got me thinking again—what would the beer sponsorship landscape look like if regional brewers got in on the action? How would they attract new drinkers if they were trying to partner with the Hawaii Surfing Association, or the American Hiking Society? Personally, I could see a scenario along these lines:

Long Trail Ale, an easy drinking altbier made for long distance hikers.
Russian River's Damnation—meant for the kayaker who charges into rapids at full speed.
The malty Hibernation Ale from Great Divide, a warming winter beer for the serious snowboarder.
For the dedicated cyclist, New Belgium's amber ale, Fat Tire.
Kona's Longboard Island Lager, a drink to grab after a day in the surf.
The dry-hopped Hazed and Confused, brewed for bold rock climbers by Boulder Beer Company.
Fresh Powder Milk Stout, Lake Placid's ode to skiing the Adirondacks.
Lake Erie Monster, a hoppy windsurfing lover's IPA from Great Lakes Brewing Company.

So, what do you think? Is there a craft beer out there for your outdoor activity of choice?

Live From Bangkok

2010-12-01T03:24:00.003-05:00

It was quite possibly the darkest, heaviest version of "Every Breath You Take" I've ever heard. Almost as if Joy Division and Metallica had decided to collaborate on a song that Sting himself admits to being his most sinister. But the rock band playing the Grammy Award-winning single wasn't British or even American for that matter, and probably count few fans outside of their native country.

In fact, Ynot7 is a talented group of Thai musicians that recently emerged from a lengthy hiatus in an attempt to recapture some of the success they enjoyed with their previous albums. On Sunday night, I caught the first concert in their weekly residency at Parking Toys, an eclectic venue in Bangkok's Lat Phrao neighborhood. In addition to a bunch of originals I didn't recognize, they covered "Enter Sandman," "Smoke on the Water," and "Another Day in Paradise." Recordings of these songs aren't available online, but you can watch the official video for "On the Wall," their newest single, on YouTube.

Village Voice Winter Guide

2010-11-24T22:44:00.002-05:00

While ice carving isn't exactly something I expect to think about (or frankly, see) in the next few months, I do know of a place where curious New Yorkers can go to watch sculptors at work: Walton Fairgrounds in the Catskills. And that's not all. If you happen to be in the mood for a winter seal walk, a dram of locally-distilled whiskey, or even a few hours of curling, I've got suggestions.

This is because I recently complied a travel guide to area winter getaways for the Village Voice. Of course, the cold, bleak days and weeks that fall between Thanksgiving and St. Patrick's Day are also a great time to catch up on your Netflix queue, or you could always stay warm by perfecting your Chocolate Smoked Porter Cake recipe. But if a little adventure starts to sound good after being cooped up indoors with your sunlight-deprived roommates, check out my weekend trip ideas, hop in a car, and head upstate. Oh, and unless you want Mom to worry, don't forget to wear a hat.

Bangkok's Belgian Oasis

2010-11-18T07:08:00.002-05:00

In a way, the Jean-Claude Van Damme movie was strangely appropriate. But it was pure coincidence that HBO happened to be showing Street Fighter when I sat down at the newest branch of Bangkok's House of Beers and ordered a Leffe Brown. Deciding I wanted something other than noodles for lunch, I had wandered down to Aree Garden in search of pub grub and a malty ale. Little did I know that the Muscles from Brussels would be on the menu, too.

I also didn't anticipate the range of beers that I'd be able to choose from, with nary a domestic brand among them. Besides predictable draft standards like Hoegaarden and Stella Artois, HOBS carries more than two dozen Belgians in bottles, including Trappist ales from Rochefort, Orval, and Chimay. In fact, they claim to have the greatest Belgian beer selection in Thailand.

True or not, I expect to be back in the near future, probably on another quiet afternoon when splurging on a drink seems like a good excuse to leave the house. With tax and tip, my bill came to 601 Baht (about $20) for the Leffe and a croque madame accompanied by fries and a small salad. Not exactly a bargain, but definitely worth it if I can watch Timecop on my next visit.

Burger Excellence in Smoky Bay

2010-10-21T16:33:00.001-04:00

One year ago this month, McDonald's went out of business. Well, the franchise in Reykjavík did at least. Citing rising costs, the global restaurant giant pulled out of Iceland, leaving hungry residents without a place to go to satisfy their hamburger cravings. Or did they?

In fact, as I discovered during my visit to the capital earlier this year, several other burger joints still lie scattered around the city, offering filling, affordable creations to rival the sandwiches sold by one of the world's biggest brands. Over the course of five days in Reykjavík, I tried three different spots and have ranked them here in my preferred order, from third to first.

American Style

This place was recommended to me by a graduate student I met during my stay and it looked very much like an upscale fast food restaurant you might find in the States: dim lighting, real silverware, wood tables at the booths, and large framed photos of musicians such as Eminem, Jim Morrison, Alanis, and Justin Timberlake. Overall, I was struck by its similarity to the Hard Rock Cafe chain. Most of the other patrons appeared to be in their teens and twenties.

The hamburger I got was large and fairly juicy, but the flavor of the beef was lost under a heap of pickles, shredded lettuce, red pepper, raw onion, and a house sauce that tasted like a blend of ketchup and mayonnaise. Although I appreciated the sesame seed bun, the fries the accompanied my order were somewhat limp, lukewarm, and essentially unseasoned. In the end my bill came to 1,415 ISK—about $12.72 at the current exchange rate.

Hamborgarbúllan

I sought out Hamborgarbúllan soon after arriving in the capital, having learned of the waterside establishment from a piece in the Washington Post and another published by Serious Eats in 2009. Unable to resist the bacon burger, I added a coffee shake to my order and grabbed one of the three small tables placed around the restaurant. Natural light and several strings of Christmas bulbs lit the room, and rumbling truck engines and the occasional car horn interrupted the jazz playing over the ceiling-mounted speakers.

Compared to those I'm accustomed to eating in New York, my burger was on the thin side again, but it was char-grilled and enhanced with fatty strips of chewy bacon. A little lettuce, a slice of tomato, and a splash of tangy Heinz chili sauce made it a meal while the thick shake found the perfect balance between bitter coffee and creamy sweetness. The price I paid for a view of the harbor and a savory patty of meat? Roughly $14.11, or 1,570 Iceland Kronur.

Vitabar

My pick for the best burger in town. And at 1,500 ISK ($13.49) for thick-cut fries, an ample burger cooked medium-rare and topped with tomato, raw onion, blue cheese, and garlic sauce, along with what the bartender told me was "the only dark beer we have," it was probably the best deal, too. Messier than the other sandwiches, the Forget-Me-Not burger and the bar that serves it might just be the ideal remedy for the Arctic chill of Iceland's winter. Try it with a bottle of the molasses-thick Islenskur Urvals Stout (5.8% ABV).

Win a "Best of Travel" Blu-ray Plus Combo Pack

2010-10-07T16:43:00.000-04:00

Help me get to 200 Twitter followers (I know, I know, not exactly a staggering number) and you could win the Australia & New Zealand episode of "Best of Travel," hosted by Rudy Maxa, public radio's original Savvy Traveler. Sign up to receive tweets from @WhereandBack and if you're my 200th follower, I'll DM you for an address and drop the Combo Pack in the mail.

Salty Food and the Strangeness of Songwriting

2010-10-07T14:06:00.002-04:00

Although her second and newest LP has only been out in the U.S. for a few weeks now, I sat down with Ólöf Arnalds back in March to discuss her native country, the strangeness of songwriting, and the loneliness of touring. We met at Veselka in the East Village on a cold afternoon and talked for about an hour; she ordered a Brooklyn Lager, I went with coffee. The caffeine helped to keep me alert as I scribbled frantically, anxious to capture her answers to my long-winded questions.

Leaning in frequently and speaking candidly, she struck me as a thoughtful, opinionated, and ambitious musician—six months before the release of Innundir Skinni, she was already excitedly describing her ideas for a third album. eMusic has the full Q&A online now. This Saturday she begins a tour that will take her to Pittsburgh, Louisville, Dallas, and Denver.

Drinking Local

2010-08-24T11:53:00.003-04:00

As busy as I've been with my hiking guide, I somehow also managed to find time to contribute to the occasional magazine. It was still work, but most of those assignments actually turned out to be a lot of fun. One of them, a feature on Long Island's emerging beer scene, appears in the High Summer issue of Edible East End.

In it my friend (and ex-roommate) Luke and I borrow a Subaru Outback and drive out to the North Fork on a rainy Sunday in April. Eschewing the many wineries that cling to Route 25 like grapes on a vine, we opted instead to visit the Greenport Harbor Brewing Company, with a stop at the Southampton Publick House and another at the Black Forest Brew Haus on the way back just for good measure. Never has a road trip tasted so good.

Rails to Trails Cover Feature

2010-07-29T13:10:00.003-04:00

Back in the spring, I spent a couple of days on Cape Cod, talking to locals, sampling the seafood, and riding from Wellfleet to South Dennis on their 22-mile rail trail. I was on assignment for Rails to Trails magazine, exploring the area for their Fall 2010 issue.

Although I didn't make it all the way out to P-town, cyclists with more time than I had should also check out the Cape Cod National Seashore trail network. There are nearly ten miles of additional bike paths within the park's boundaries. And finally, as I have mentioned before, if you're planning a trip out to one of the towns on the Cape, consider booking a stay at the Fort Hill Bed and Breakfast in Eastham. The views, the hosts, and the three-course breakfasts (more energy for long rides) are truly exceptional.

David Farley's Irreverent Curiosity

2010-07-07T10:45:00.003-04:00

A couple of weeks ago I sat down with David Farley at Jack's Coffee in the West Village to talk about travel, writing, and Restless Legs, his ever-expanding support group for the wanderlust stricken. This week my Q&A with the author of An Irreverent Curiosity appears in Time Out New York. Here's an outtake from our conversation.

You’ve given advice on how to write a bad travel story. Which kinds of travel writing are you tired of reading? What makes you cringe?

Good question. One thing I really like about good travel writing is when the writer puts the place or the thing they’re writing about into a context. In travel writing, the best stories will entertain us and educate us at the same time. And when they’re just writing about what they did it’s neither entertaining nor educating at all. I want that nice balance of understanding the place and being able to see the place. I want the person to describe the landscape and interpret the landscape.

Pick up a copy of the magazine for my full interview with Farley or, if you're allergic to paper, read it online.

Of Blogs and Books

2010-06-24T11:51:00.001-04:00

If you happen to read this blog with any regularity, you may have noticed that my postings have tapered off of late. Well, I decided to explain myself this afternoon, lest I face accusations of laziness and/or abandonment. The actual reason I haven't kept up with my blogging is simple—I'm writing a book. More than that, I've even got a publisher for it.

My hiking guide won't be released until next year, but in the meantime I have a lot of research, writing, and mapping to do. So although I will continue to add links to my stories and interviews as they appear online, I won't have time to update this site as often as I have in the past. While you're waiting for me to get around to blogging again, why not spend some time outdoors yourself? Because whether you live near Seattle, WA or Washington, DC, there are dozens of trails a short car, bus, or train ride away. Go ahead, take a hike.

7 Reasons to Visit Coney Island this Summer

2010-06-09T03:44:00.007-04:00

Sometimes I wish I lived by the ocean. That way when I felt like taking a walk, my mind could wander off over the Atlantic instead of ricocheting between the city's concrete canyons. But I don't, and with a guidebook nagging me to write it this summer, I'm unlikely to spend time strolling along the seashore anyway. Yet for New Yorkers—even those who can't afford a vacation—there is one beach close enough to easily escape to: Coney Island.

An excited Bill Cunningham has already urged New York Times readers to skip the Hamptons in favor of Brooklyn's Riviera, so I thought I'd join the chorus. Here, in an unorganized list then, are my suggestions:

Rides. Some of them, like the wooden Cyclone roller coaster, never really went away, but this summer Coney Island welcomed Luna Park back to the stretch of amusements and attractions just off the boardwalk. The new park, which can be enjoyed by purchasing a wristband or a pay-as-you-go-card, includes 19 rides for families, children, and thrill-seekers.
Hot Dogs. You can't miss the gigantic green and yellow sign at the end of Stillwell Avenue. For nearly a century, Nathan's Famous has urged beach-goers to try one, two—or in the case of Joey Chestnut of San Jose, California—68 of its beef hot dogs. A few chances remain to qualify for this year's eating contest, but then again, it takes an iron stomach to watch, too.
Baseball. Sure, Citifield and the new Yankee Stadium are nice ballparks, but I'm still partial to Cyclones games on Surf Avenue. The fans are great, the seats are cheap, and there's no better place to watch a footrace between Ketchup, Mustard, and Relish. Opening day is Saturday, June 19th.
Tiny Beer. Schmaltz Brewing Company has opened "the world's smallest non-production brewery" on 12th Street next to the Freak Show. Their motto appears to be "One Gallon at a Time," but they're currently fermenting three different styles made by local homebrewers. Stop by for a taste this month.
Tomato Pie. As in, pizza. After a devastating fire forced its closure last spring, things looked bleak for Totonno's, the legendary restaurant that many place in the highest echelon of the city's famed pizzerias. Eleven months later, owners Lawrence and Louise “Cookie” Ciminieri finally reopened their establishment on Neptune Avenue.
Rock Bands. Ten years ago I turned up in New York with a Danelectro guitar and a belief in the power of pop. And although the Village Voice didn't chose my band as one of the regional acts to appear at their first annual summer music festival, I went anyway. On Saturday, July 17th, Siren celebrates its tenth birthday.
Mermaids. Billed as a celebration of "the sand, the sea, the salt air, and the beginning of summer," the Mermaid Parade is also about extremely creative costume designing. And Lou Reed. Attend the nation's largest art parade and see for yourself on June 19th. Plus, you can always stick around for the Cyclones.

Country Roads: Almost Heaven, Not Virginia

2010-05-24T16:53:00.007-04:00

Arkansas is a mystery to me. I can count the number of days I've spent in Tennessee on one hand. And I've never been to the Carter Family Fold. But I do know a little bit about Denmark, a country the Man in Black visited in 1971. My fondness for Johnny Cash and his music wasn't what let me to Scandinavia however, and that's why the concert I stumbled upon there was such a surprise. Earlier today, BootsnAll published my story about this experience online. Here's a brief excerpt:

"Glancing above me, I didn’t see Dannebrog, the flag of Denmark, but rather semi-circular stars and stripes banners hanging from the ceiling at regular intervals. The beer on tap was Royal Classic, not Coors Lite. And yet the most disorienting thing was the lack of English I heard spoken around me. Then again, this was the Jutland Peninsula, not the Cumberland Plateau.

I had traveled to Aarhus with few expectations beyond enjoying a citywide party. Nevertheless, the musical dose of Americana was a complete surprise. It was as if somehow, here in northern Europe, I’d stumbled through a jackrabbit hole to the Grand Ole Opry."

12 Songs to Inspire Summer Travel

2010-05-16T12:55:00.009-04:00

As the weather in Brooklyn steadily improved this week, I began to notice a corresponding increase in my own eagerness to travel. Sunny skies and wanderlust just seem to go hand in hand. That and it's been months since I last left the Eastern Seaboard. So, without a trip to look forward to in the immediate future, I decided to troll through iTunes for songs to inspire a journey instead. Herewith, in no particular order, are my selections:

The Drums—Let's Go Surfing (Summertime!)
White Rabbits—Tourist Trap (Fort Nightly)
The New Pornographers—Go Places (Challengers)
Bishop Allen—The Chinatown Bus (The Broken String)
The Lucksmiths—The Year of Driving Languorously (Why That Doesn't Surprise Me)
Fountains of Wayne—New Routine (Traffic and Weather)
Camera Obscura—Honey in the Sun (My Maudlin Career)
The Walkmen—Louisiana (A Hundred Miles Off)
Ted Leo—La Costa Brava (Living with the Living)
The Shins—Australia (Wincing the Night Away)
Beirut—Nantes (The Flying Club Cup)
David Mead—New Mexico (Indiana)

Which songs or albums make you want to pack your bags and head out for points unknown?

Beer Town: Brooklyn

2010-05-08T19:54:00.009-04:00

I love New York. Really, I do. The thing is, over the years I've become much more of an outer borough kind of guy. Sure, I still have my favorite bars and restaurants in Manhattan, but these days I just don't spend much time there anymore. Thanks to a growing number of foodie entrepreneurs in Kings County though, I hardly even miss it.

Let's take beer, for example: Manhattan only has one true brewery (all of the Heartland beers are actually made across the East River in Fort Greene) while Brooklyn's got four. And that includes a business billing itself as the world's smallest non-commercial brewery. I could go on, but it's late, and you'd rather be watching something funny anyway.

So if you're curious about what's happening in Brooklyn, pick up a copy of the May/June 2010 issue of DRAFT magazine for my tips on the best places to eat, sleep, and drink in this newly-minted Beer Town. Or, if you're low on cash and like a good map, read the online version here.

Rooms With Views

2010-04-22T19:14:00.011-04:00

National Park Week—your chance to visit any of the 392 national parks in the United States for free—comes to an end in three short days. Of course, many of the best weeks for exploring America's natural heritage are still ahead. Park attendance around the country typically spikes during the summer months.

During a trip to Massachusetts earlier this month, I spent a couple of nights at the Fort Hill Bed and Breakfast, a historic farmhouse that innkeepers Gordon and Jean Avery have turned into an absurdly comfortable place to stay within the Cape Cod National Seashore. Besides offering unobstructed views of Nauset Marsh and the ocean beyond, Fort Hill is steps from the Red Maple Swamp Trail and a short distance from the Salt Pond Visitor Center. Hiking, biking, swimming, and surfing are just some of the activities available to visitors who stay at this unique B&B.

Beers, Blogs, and Birthdays

2010-04-09T18:28:00.008-04:00

This time last year I had just returned from Panama. Aging, out of work, and unsure of my next step, I chose to procrastinate in a place that's been described as "a shortcut with its own national anthem." Looking back, I think my decision to go actually made a certain amount of sense. All of the hiking, kayaking, and surfing I did kept me from dwelling on the disappointing reality of my joblessness, and the journey along the Pacific Coast reconnected me with two of my passions: writing and traveling. In fact, I started this blog not long after finally unpacking my luggage.

While in Panama City, I spent a very pleasant evening at the Istmo Brew Pub, a bar and restaurant that has been growing in popularity since opening in El Cangrejo in 2005. With 14 bottles (mostly imported lagers) and four of their own brews (Veraguas, Cócle, Colón, and Chiriquí) to pick from, Istmo definitely boasts the best selection in the capital, if not the country. Other than color however, their house styles differed little in flavor and body, and at $5 a pint, cost about four times as much as native brands like Atlas and Balboa.

That night the crowd was local, and yet the soundtrack consisted of hits from the US and the UK—"Under the Bridge," "D'yer Mak'er," "Love in an Elevator," and "Hurts so Good." The scene seemed a bit more Floridian than Latin American, but I liked the outdoor seating area, and was tempted to order one of their plantains smothered with toppings like cheese, guacamole, and pico de gallo. In the end I stuck with drinks though; I guess I'll have to go back if I really want to try the Isla Iguana or the Bocas del Toro. Who knows? It could make a nice birthday gift to myself in another 12 months.

Wrapped Up in Books

2010-03-31T10:12:00.011-04:00

Many people are wondering what the Apple iPad will do to the publishing landscape once it goes on sale this weekend. For all of the opportunities this product promises, there is also concern that it may hasten the obsolescence of so-called "old media," like books. Maybe so. I have no idea what kind of life expectancy printed information has any more, but until further notice, I intend to continue patronizing brick and mortar businesses, starting with New York's best specialty bookshops. Because book jackets do still matter to me.

Selected Works by the Travel Writer Laureate

2010-03-22T19:45:00.006-04:00

Even though I'm not always such a fan of list-making, I have to admit, sometimes they can be a lot of fun to compose. Today's list is inspired by National Poetry Month, which begins on Thursday, April 1, 2010.

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening for a Romantic Winter Getaway in Maine
To Autumn, the Perfect Season to Experience the Hudson Valley's Fall Foliage
Ode to the West Wind, and the Gorgeous White Sand Beaches of Florida's Keys
To Brooklyn Bridge, Voted America's Favorite Water Crossing for the 127th Time
I Heard A Fly Buzz on a Fishing Trip to Montana's Breathtaking Big Sky Country
The Ballad of the Oysterman, Your Cheerful Local Guide to Tidewater Maryland
After Apple-Picking, Spend the Weekend at a Cozy B&B in Lancaster County
The Red Wheelbarrow, Another Charming Example of Appalachian Folk Art
I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud Floating Over Utah's Stunning Rock Formations
Once I Pass'd Through A Populous City Called Nashville, the Athens of the South

Poutine Was Only The Beginning

2010-03-17T14:38:00.013-04:00

In my humble opinion, travel should be about educating your palate as well as your mind. Granted, my commitment to this philosophy has occasionally led me to eat things that many would consider entirely unappetizing. More often than not however, I seek out local dishes and the restaurants that serve them because of their excellence.

Early last year for instance, I spent several days sampling the ethnic food and Québécois cuisine in Montréal. Relying on a friend's advice as well as some of the dining suggestions offered in the extremely handy Knopf MapGuide I purchased in New York, I happily ate my way across the city. The dueling constraints of time and money prevented me from trying everything on my list, but I did my best.

Selectivity isn't easy when you're dealing with one of the gastronomic capitals of North America, but Transitions Abroad has my succinct recommendations on Eating Well in Montreal. Read it and eat.

Musical Dreams Under a Midnight Sun

2010-03-12T01:11:00.007-05:00

Seven years ago, she got my attention with a bass clarinet. Something about the low, ascending notes in triple time that introduce her Cast Anchor EP won me over, and I've been a fan of Hanne Hukkelberg ever since. A version of the following review originally appeared in the June 2009 issue of Nordic Reach, the Scandinavian lifestyle quarterly.

Not many bands find inspiration above the Arctic Circle. Fewer still pick up and move to northern latitudes in search of their muse. Yet that’s what Hanne did following the release of her sophomore album: she relocated to Norway’s attic to write new material on the rugged, forested island of Senja. Seven months later she returned to Oslo with songs that would become Blood From A Stone, roughly forty-five minutes of challenging, yet bizarrely polite rock music.

After two charmingly quirky albums assembled from found sounds, off kilter rhythms, and her mesmerizing vocals, the melodies here seem somewhat less playful and the tones she and producer Kåre Vesterheim coax from their instruments often come across as otherworldly—at times unsettling even. On “No Mascara Tears” for instance, cryptic lyrics accompanied by a log drum and an eerie saw could serve as an incantation, an ancient chant adapted for today’s urban youth, while the funereal “Salt Of The Earth” might be a dance club dirge, choreographing steps around an impending doom.

Once again vocals are at the heart of her third full-length, but gone are traces of the “dusty jazz” that characterized Little Things, and to a lesser degree, Rykestrasse 68. “Bandy Riddles” is one such example of this stylistic shift. Growing steadily louder as several guitars and then melancholy cello are added to the mix, the song barrels headlong towards its conclusion, propelled by the tempo of a Vaseline box, bicycle spokes, kitchen percussion, and tambourine. Repeated listens uncover a method beneath the sonic madness however. Beat by beat, chord by chord, the compositions slowly build on each other, as if Hukkelberg wants to lead her audience to a musical precipice.

Are we meant to see something from the zenith of the final track “Bygd Til By?” Is it the flying saucers, ghostly forest creatures, and strange, colorless terrain that appear in the artwork? Or perhaps the landscape of a remote island, alien and mysterious? Cooing over the measured strumming of an electric guitar, Hukkelberg hints at an answer with the album’s opening line: “You and me and everyone, walking in the midnight sun.”

Hanne plays a SXSW send-off show with Pirate Love and Megaphonic Thrift at Santos Party House on Monday.

Split Thy Brooklyn Skull

2010-03-07T21:35:00.017-05:00

Yesterday in Brooklyn it almost seemed like spring. For a couple of hours anyway. Here and there a stubborn pile of snow or two refused to melt, but sitting in the small patio behind Mugs Alehouse in Williamsburg, you could pretend that winter was finally over. Of course, the company of a few friends and an ample supply of strong ales always helps such imaginative leaps.

Temperatures fell as the afternoon wore on at the eleventh annual tasting event, but good craft beer was never in short supply. I didn't have the wallet or the stamina to sample even half of the 47 possibilities available, but that didn't keep me from picking favorites:

Brewdog Tokyo (18.2% ABV). Call it what you will, but Tokyo packs a punch, even in small servings. Classified as an imperial stout, this nearly black liquid resembles a barleywine in some ways and has a smell that reminded me of balsamic vinegar. This may be due to the addition of jasmine and cranberries.
Green Flash Palate Wrecker (9.4% ABV). Unless you can handle 100 IBUs, keep your distance. Pouring a bright yellow-orange with a thick, foamy white head, this creation from Green Flash is probably the hoppiest beer I've tried yet. With an intensely resiny aroma and a bold, oily flavor, I found it uniquely deserving of the title imperial IPA.
Weyerbacher Blasphemy 2007 (11.8% ABV). A quadruple aged in oak barrels, Blasphemy is certainly a complex drink that I'd describe as buttery and intoxicating. The amber color is alluring, and yet the aroma of bourbon signals that this isn't a beer to be trifled with. Outstanding in small quantities.
Southern Tier Imperial Mokah (10.9% ABV). Just about the closest anyone's come to Hershey's syrup in a 22-ounce bottle. If, like me, you're a drinker with a sweet tooth, then this exceptionally silky, malty stout is deserving of your hard-earned cash. Although the brewery only releases it seasonally, Mokah could easily be enjoyed year round.
Spring House Kerplunk (8.1% ABV). Named for the sound that chocolate makes when dropped into a brew kettle, Kerplunk has the ebony color you'd expect in an imperial stout but was less dense than some versions of this style. Caramel and bitter cocoa stood out right away, as did a hint of tobacco in the finish.
Voodoo Grand Met (10.0% ABV). Dry, deceptively strong, and the color of polished brass, Voodoo Grand Met is a nice example of a French biere de garde or maybe a Belgian spiced ale. Made in Pennsylvania with German pilsner malt, cane and beet sugar, it stood out in a field crowded with big beers.

City vs. Country: Norwegian Edition

2010-02-26T01:04:00.011-05:00

I made up my mind soon after arriving in Norway for the second time. The sparsely peopled, rugged nation simply couldn’t be understood—or fully appreciated for that matter—by exclusively observing life in its urban centers. I had to ditch the traffic, skip the shopping, and head for the hills.

Not wanting to go it alone, I began to mentally scroll through the names of people I might persuade to join me. Almost immediately my friend Cathrine came to mind. Which makes sense I guess, given that I was sitting at her kitchen table when the idea hit me. So, breaking the ice with an idle comment about the favorable weather, I then suggested a hiking trip as we took the last bites of our breakfast one morning. “Are you sure you don’t want to see anything else in the city?” she asked skeptically.

A lover of restaurants, nightlife, and motorized transportation, I could see why Cathrine might initially be reluctant to trade these things for the pleasure of shivering next to me in a nylon tent. I let it drop. But at the end of an evening in which her drinking companions regaled us with tales of hunting moose and scaling peaks, she agreed that a woodsy weekend could be a nice change of pace. Especially after several aimless afternoons wandering the streets of Oslo. I have since decided to float all future hair-brained ideas across the seductive tides of a whisky snifter. A coffee mug only brings folly into sharper focus.

Discussing our adventures-to-be on the way home from the bar, we finally settled on Jotunheimen, a national park about 165 miles north of the capital. Home to the two tallest mountains in Northern Europe, it promised forbidding glaciers, punishing climbs, and the outside chance of spotting a frost giant. Fortunately she knew an actor who spent lots of time in higher altitudes and could lend us equipment, a good map, and his skills as an outdoorsman. Things we didn’t have, but might want to bring along—at least in her friend Haakon's opinion anyway.

Piling into a borrowed station wagon on an overcast afternoon, we sped north and westward, intending to set up camp that night and get an early start the next day. It wasn’t long after we awoke, shouldered our cumbersome packs, and set out however, that Cathrine and I came to the realization that we were in way over our heads. As in several feet. The pained look of concern we both wore on our faces became easier to read by the hour.

The day had begun with bright sun, hot food, and a brisk pace, but after a long morning of laboring across a field of car-sized boulders, my fondness for Mother Nature was flagging faster than my stamina. Pausing to catch my breath for the umpteenth time, I listened to Cathrine’s boots crunch against the smaller stones behind me and wondered where all the other hikers were. We hadn’t seen so much as a trace of another person since we broke camp, let alone evidence that anything living had come this way in a long, long time.

Another hour or so passed without much conversation, eventually delivering us to the day’s first real obstacle. As we paused at the edge of a steep snowfield, Haakon nonchalantly announced that the next step would be ascending a twenty-foot rock face without the aid of climbing gear. It dawned on me then that to your average Norwegian actor, the verb “to hike” bears virtually no resemblance to the definition commonly used throughout the rest of the world; i.e. a long walk, especially in the country, for pleasure or exercise.

Where I come from, a typical summer weekend is more likely to involve feats of eating than a test of anyone’s physical fitness. Not so in Norway. Calmly talking us through the handholds, he called down from the relative safety of the ledge above with a very matter-of-fact warning: “If you slip here, you’ll die.” Stupidly, I glanced down. While I stood there contemplating the likelihood of surviving a fall, I could feel the sweat pooling in the crevices of my waterproof clothing. The altitude amplified my exhaustion, and at that instant, my mind understood but one thing about Norway: the view from 7,000 feet can turn you into a city person very quickly.

My Voyage to Smoky Bay

2010-02-17T18:49:00.009-05:00

I'm no Punxsutawney Phil, but it sure felt like winter when I arrived in Iceland on Groundhog Day this year. No snow on the ground, but plenty of frozen surfaces.

Lured to the city of Reykjavík by a smörgåsbord of smoked, pickled, and fermented foods to try, I nonetheless ventured into the cold to document my visit. The lack of daylight made shooting outdoors more challenging, but at least the weather decided to cooperate. Travel with me in this set of photographs.

To come: my thoughts on putrefied shark.

Two Minute Interview: Sergio Rotman

2010-02-15T21:14:00.011-05:00

Once upon a time I played guitar in a ska band. This was back in the nineties when the genre was in vogue and a group from Argentina could find fans in the United States by putting a Latin twist on ska. Nearly fifteen years later, following the release of their newest album, El Arte De La Elegancia, I caught up with one of the founding members of Los Fabulosos Cadillacs. Here, in my first Two Minute Interview for Where and Back, I ask saxophonist Sergio Rotman about tour highlights, the influence of travel, and the best new band in Buenos Aires.

How has travel influenced the focus of your music? Traveling has changed our perception of the world radically. Our first US/Mexico tour was in October 1990 and the life of Los Fabulosos Cadillacs was never the same.
What are some of the most memorable places LFC has visited, and why? I remember our first show in the Sonoran Desert (in Mexico), playing while it was more than 120 degrees in Hermosillo. It was with Café Tacuba, Negu Gorriak, and Paralamas, and it was kind of a breakthrough show in the history of Latin rock. I also remember our tour through Europe in 1995/96, when we participated in the first Sex Pistols' comeback tour. The bill? Cypress Hill, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Fabulosos Cadillacs and... the Sex Pistols! What else could you ask for in life?
Many groups compose songs while touring—during sound checks, on the bus, etc. Is that also true for LFC? If so, which songs came to life that way? It's not like that for Los Fabulosos Cadillacs. While it's true that we've been together for 25 years, it's rare to find songs composed collectively, as a group. Composition for LFC is something very personal where Vicentico, Flavio, and eventually myself build the band's repertoire.
What about the current music scene in Buenos Aires makes it so exciting? Well, just three words: Boom Boom Kid! Check them out!
Where in your travels together has the band experienced something spectacular, or maybe just funny? When you travel the world, you are influenced by everything and it's exciting. We have all kinds of anecdotes, but we keep them to ourselves! Life is full of surprises!
How has the Internet changed the way you connect with your audience or collaborate on various musical projects? Not as much as the way it changed the way music is marketed. We are a classic band. For us it's still: Album, Stage, Tours, and Music. Everything else is skin, just superficial!

Beer My Valentine

2010-02-11T23:07:00.004-05:00

Nobody's ever given me flowers. Ditto fancy European chocolates. Heart-shaped jewelry isn't really my thing, but then they say it's the thought that counts, right? Well, with the most romantic day of the year nearly here again, I thought I'd offer a bit of sensible, wallet-friendly shopping advice for anyone who wants to sweep a guy off his feet this weekend.

Buy him a beer. He might not be the picky type, but don't just grab any bottle, go with something special. In other words, spring for a chocolate stout. Not every example of this style is made with real chocolate (relying instead on dark malts to produce a similar flavor), so read the label closely before snatching up your perfect Valentine's Day gift.

Ommegang brews a rich, intensely dark Belgian style chocolate stout that pours like velvet and leaves a wake of bitter cocoa behind. To call it indulgent is not an exaggeration. For my money however, Rogue's award-winning chocolate stout—silky, sweet, and full-bodied—has a slight edge. Like your favorite candy bar, it's irresistible. A couple of glasses of this kind of liquid happiness and neither you nor your sweetheart will care how many blizzards hit the East Coast this winter.

Don't Look A Gift Sheep in the Mouth

2010-02-08T20:38:00.005-05:00

I enjoy eating meat. Many of my favorite and most memorable meals have centered around a substantial helping of animal protein. But something about sawing into the face of another mammal with a dull knife takes a tiny bit of the pleasure out of being a carnivore for me. Knowing that the preparation of the entrée in front of me involved singeing, boiling in salty water, and then sitting, cold, for an undetermined number of hours removes much of what remains.

And while I hate to complain about what was, quite literally, a free lunch, these were the thoughts that crossed my mind as I tried my first bite of Svið. Apparently, if you're an Icelander, a grayish sheep head, skin intact, lips parted just slightly to reveal long, narrow incisors, isn't grotesque, it's gourmet. To quote the author of a cookbook I picked up at the National Museum of Iceland last week, "singeing gives [the meat] a pleasing, mellow tinge which reaches through the skin and lingers caressingly on the palate." To my taste buds, this lingering caress more closely resembled the flavor of liver.

Served with a salty yellow bean soup, a scoop of pale orange turnip and another scoop of mashed potatoes, my meal seemed like it would be filling, even if I wasn't likely to go back for seconds. As expected, the soup, which also contained a large, fatty shoulder of lamb, was an ideal dish for a cold February afternoon. The Svið however, left something to be desired—namely, meat. Even a fleshy sheep face wouldn't satiate a big appetite and luckily I was only feeling somewhat hungry the day I visited Fljótt og Gott. Nevertheless, I munched on crunchy pieces of neck, ate the chewy tongue, and managed to swallow a few tougher lumps of meat from around the eye socket. In the end though, I couldn't help but wish I'd ordered a big green salad instead.

The Banjo Strikes Again

2010-02-02T13:05:00.006-05:00

Last April I blogged about the documentary featuring Béla Fleck entitled Throw Down Your Heart. I'm not a film critic, so I won't comment on its cinematic merits, but I did find the soundtrack to be a moving tribute to the banjo, an instrument Mr. Fleck has devoted his music career to. Apparently, the Grammy judges also liked the album. He walked away with two awards last weekend: Best Contemporary World Music Album and Best Pop Instrumental Performance.

The recording that resulted from his trip to Africa doesn't sound like pop to my ears, but it does include examples of tremendous ability performed by people who in all likelihood, have never before released their music in physical or digital form. Track down a copy of it and listen for yourself. I'm sure you'll discover a song or an instrumental phrase, captured live, thousands of miles from your speakers, that you'll want to hear again. And again.

For me "Jesus Is the Only Answer" packs a wallop the way few songs do. When the singers' voices rise in unison during the refrain, their joy lifts me up; it sounds supremely hopeful. But my happiness is fleeting. There's a sadness hiding behind the lyrics, and when the music stops, I feel like my heart could too.

Five Reasons I'm Tired of Lists

2010-01-28T14:46:00.000-05:00

Late last year, as I was negotiating the details of a story assignment with an editor over email, he lamented to me about the difficulty of reconciling meaningful content with the tendency of web audiences to scan. While I don't deny that the proliferation of news and entertainment online has changed (and is changing) our reading habits, I will say that I recognize the utility of ordered information.

Lists can be a quick, handy way to gain some understanding of an unfamiliar subject, and occasionally lead to serendipitous discoveries. For writers, they can encourage careful thinking and considered selectivity. And although they aren't a form of expression I particularly enjoy, I am guilty of list-making myself. But lately it seems like every other article is trying to tout the Top Five Ways to Brush Your Teeth or the World's Best Places for Cold Cereal.

I find this trend somewhat disappointing, especially when it comes to travel writing. So, in the hopes of attracting people with a surfeit of time and yet lack anything resembling an attention span, I decided to outline my thoughts in a easy-to-skim format.

Travel Writing Should Inspire Curiosity. Some of my favorite—and arguably the best—examples of this genre are long, thoughtful ruminations that don't include a single recommendation. The writer transports you to a place and then pulls back the curtain on a peculiar aspect of it that they alone have investigated. You think to yourself: I wonder what I would say to a magical penis thief if I met one?
Every Experience Doesn't Need a Ranking. If you're going to bother leaving your routines at home, go ahead and forget about what you think you're supposed to do when you reach your destination too. Do something for the hell of it. Try something you might not like. Believe it or not, misadventures often make for fond memories.
Lists Value Templates Over Talent. As another writer I admire once said at a reading series I enjoy attending: Ideas are easy. Stories are hard. Call me old-fashioned, but I think there's something to be said for accepting a challenge every now and then.
Experts Are a Dime a Dozen. Let's say you spent a long weekend in Baltimore. You caught an Orioles game, checked out the National Aquarium, feasted on crabs at Phillips, and wandered over to Little Italy for cannoli after dinner. Wonderful. Tell your friends and family about the great time you had in Charm City, but please don't call yourself an insider.
Itemization Begets Impatient Readers. I'll be slightly impressed if you make it this far into my post.

Lunching on Lundi

2010-01-22T13:39:00.006-05:00

According to Andrew Zimmern, co-creator and host of the Travel Channel's Bizarre Foods, the taste of lundi most resembles a "delicately mild, finely grained piece of elk (or ostrich even) that had been waved over a pot of clam juice." Sound appetizing? Well, I suppose that all depends on your willingness to eat lundi, or puffin, as well as your opinion of clam juice.

I'll have the chance to come to my own conclusions about puffin meat—along with quite a few other smoked, salted, and pickled "delicacies"—when I make my first trip to Iceland in February. The main purpose of this short visit is to collect some firsthand information on traditional Icelandic foods and to interview a few people about Viking customs, but I also hope to see some of the country's famously alien landscapes while I'm there. Of course, I wouldn't mind learning more about the music from the moon either.

Photo by the Icelandic Tourist Board

Fun With Fermentation

2010-01-15T19:30:00.003-05:00

With several writing projects to keep me busy during the remaining months of winter, I'm not likely to have much time for anything else. Although I may be able to tackle a project that involves lots of waiting. Something like brewing a beer, for instance.

As luck would have it, a box containing a malted barley blend, Fuggle hops, yeast, and a bunch of home brewing equipment arrived at my door yesterday. Theoretically, if I follow the enclosed instructions carefully, I'll end up with a quaffable Chocolate Maple Porter in about three weeks. It's an exciting prospect, and one that I'll be posting about again very soon.

Back to the Future

2010-01-11T13:37:00.005-05:00

Looking back over my playlist for 2009, I can't help but notice that quite a few inspired recordings found their way to my ears during the past twelve months. One of my favorites was an understated album performed and produced by a pair of soft-spoken Norwegians.

Writing for Nordic Reach, I described their newest release as "part introspection and part frivolous fun," and listening to it again today, I think that first impression holds true. But at a time when nearly everyone seems to be giving their work the remix treatment, what appeals to me most about the Kings of Convenience is their simplicity.

The songs they compose are short, straightforward, uncluttered, and all the more indelible as a result. For instance, tracks like "Mrs. Cold" and "Me In You" serve as a reminder that capable musicians can still write taut, danceable grooves with memorable hooks using little more than a pair of acoustic guitars.

Of course, the other end of the spectrum also has its rewards. Laptop pop makes for enjoyable listening, too. Case in point: Don't Stop, the second album from another Norwegian songwriter with the easy-to-remember name Annie. In the January 11th issue of The New Yorker, Sasha Frere-Jones uses the Scandinavian singer to investigate throwback trends, America's aversion to Euro-pop, and the future of music creation and consumption.

In a way he seems to be saying that she's been exploiting one trick—relieving some of the heaviness of house with sweet yet cool vocals sung against bright, synthesized sounds that recall the eighties—just long enough to seem retro and brand new at the same time. Comparing Anniemal, her previous full-length, against this batch of new songs, I'm inclined to agree. "All I know is who I am and I'll never be afraid to show it" she coos on the title track, and as the icy synthesizer melody pulses toward its eventual fade out, the only thing you want to do more than move, is believe.

Photograph of Kings of Convenience by Åse Holte

Why Travel Never Gets Old

2010-01-02T16:25:00.011-05:00

"When you cross the country, you are always crossing a new country, a moving destination." I read a good chunk of Robert Sullivan's Cross Country while staying with my parents in Maryland last week, and this particular sentence stopped me in my proverbial tracks. As I paused to reflect on the journeys I've repeated thus far in my life, I also considered how this idea summarized one of my favorite things about travel: its inconstancy.

Sure, there are places that have been designed to essentially deliver the same experience to people no matter how many visits they make, but I suspect that even in those cases, the destination has, in one slight way or another, moved. The restaurant you always visited on vacation may look the same, but perhaps a new chef has changed the menu since you were there last. Or could it be that the landmark you relied on to remind you where to turn is gone?

At home we often miss the smallest changes to the landscape, prone as we are to routine. But when we retrace routes we've taken before, unfamiliar sights and sounds contrast with the topography captured by our imperfect memories, causing us to view the scenery anew. This happened to me nearly every time I drove back and forth from college in Ohio and again during a return trip to Norway several years ago.

On my first visit I'd spent most of my time with a close friend who showed me around Oslo, introducing me to some of the places that made the city dear to her. One such spot was Cafe Amsterdam, an unassuming brown bar just around the corner from the National Gallery. Fondly remembering a long evening of conversation over dark beers, I tried to find it again one afternoon while wandering the city on my own. When I turned up at the address however, I was met with an unpleasant surprise—Cafe Amsterdam no longer existed. While my first instinct was to mourn the bar's disappearance, I stopped to reconsider. This wasn't a loss, but rather an opportunity to continue exploring Oslo. A chance to begin looking for a new destination.

Remaining Focused

2009-12-24T17:15:00.004-05:00

It's Christmas Eve and evidence of "The Blizzard of '09" still blankets suburban Maryland as I post some disappointing news. Back in September, I applied for a comic book self-publishing grant in the hopes of offsetting some of the expense of producing and distributing Captain Cartography. Unfortunately, I learned late last week that my proposal was not selected by the review committee and I won't be receiving any financial support from the Xeric Foundation.

While this is a setback, it doesn't spell the end for our spatially-gifted hero. In the time that has elapsed since I submitted my proposal, I've given more thought to the idea and continue to seek out and read comics that inspire me to keep writing. Plus, the advice and encouragement I've begun to receive from educators will help me relate my storyline to teaching standards as I move forward with the project in 2010. It may take me longer to develop than it would have with some funding, but I'm not giving up. Not yet. After all, I'm in this for the maps, not the money.

The Iron Santa Challenge

2009-12-15T16:38:00.005-05:00

Even after finishing the first beer, it still seemed like a good idea. By Wednesday morning however, I began to doubt the sanity of attempting (and completing) Pacific Standard's Iron Santa Challenge on a weeknight. I suppose the free T-shirt made it all worthwhile. Well, either that or seeing Colson Whitehead at the end of the bar reading a trade paperback of I Am Legend. Herewith, the drinks of my undoing, in the order I consumed them:

Rogue Mogul Madness (7.0% ABV). A dark winter ale with a sweetish caramel aroma, citrus hops, and notes of berries and mocha.
Flying Dog Gonzo Imperial Porter (9.5% ABV). This beer was on cask and tasted somewhat off to me. A strong, full-bodied ale, it ordinarily has a complex character with flavors of coffee beans and smoky molasses.
Young's Double Chocolate Stout (5.2% ABV). The hops remain subtle in this silky brew which tastes like a melted candy bar. Indulgence in a glass.
Mendocino Black Hawk Stout (5.0% ABV). Brewed with Black Patent malt and hops from North America, this is a very drinkable, rich beer with a dry finish.
Two Brothers Red Eye (9.3% ABV). With strong flavors of bittersweet cocoa and roasted coffee, this deep brown ale was my favorite of the night. Or so I recall.
Chelsea Frosty's Winter Wheat Wine (9.5% ABV). Described on the tap menu as a deceptively easy drink, I found this beer difficult to describe. Which I might have expected after downing five pints in relatively quick succession. It allegedly balances a hint of sour fruitiness with toasted wheat malt and just enough hops to keep things interesting.

Odds are good that I will be back to Pacific Standard before long, but next time I'm going to seriously consider ordering from the other extreme.

One Drop of Rain

2009-12-08T15:39:00.007-05:00

When is someone going to re-popularize the waltz? It's such a listenable time signature, and yet based on the concerts I've seen lately, most drummers seem unable to play anything that doesn't involve a pounding 4/4 kick drum beat.

Last Friday night Marcellus Hall (of Railroad Jerk and White Hassle fame) took the tiny stage at Union Hall with a trio of Hostages. As the headlining act they didn't need to hurry to setup, and the small crowd was quite receptive, but when they began performing a short set of earnest songs it was as if their lives depended on it. I appreciated the subdued drumming for sure, but honestly, they had me at The First Line.

In my humble opinion, the most memorable song of the evening may have been a waltz entitled "One Drop of Rain," a somber melody that cleverly mimics the refrain with an instrumental passage in all but the first and last iterations. Mr. Hall's plaintive lyrics are matched by the timbre of his voice, and his band treads lightly as the story unfolds with each verse. The structure itself is simple and could be mistaken for something A.P. Carter might have composed if the grandfather of country had written about death and electronic communication instead of death and salvation. Whether or not you agree with the comparison, "One Drop of Rain" works as a piece of music. Fans of timeless songwriting, harmonica solos, and yes, slower tempos take note: his will be an album to watch for next year.

Another Year, Another Beer

2009-11-26T12:55:00.012-05:00

I look forward to coming home for Thanksgiving every year, although with gray skies in Baltimore, a part of me wishes my family could spend the holiday in San Antonio. The sun makes this Texan city particularly appealing when temperatures on the East Coast dip into the 40s, and on top of that, I discovered that it also has a youthful, yet accomplished beer scene.

Trying all of the craft breweries in the area wasn't an option during my abbreviated visit this summer, but I'm glad I didn't skip Freetail, which celebrated its first anniversary this weekend. Located in a small shopping plaza off a beltway that's easy to drive by if—like me—you don't know San Antonio well, Freetail serves pizza and large, freshly-made sandwiches in addition to a rotating selection of beers.

An inexpensive sampler seemed like a great way to get a better sense of their full range so I asked for a small pour of Interloper Stout, Torper Porter, Tadarida IPA, and Verano Sin Fin Saison along with a half pint of their year-round Freetail Ale. While I did enjoy all five styles, if I found myself in the vicinity again soon, I'd probably go for the malty, medium-bodied porter with its notes of coffee and caramel over the slightly less successful saison. A stronger beer at 6.4% ABV (vs. the porter's 5.6%), the Verano Sin Fin poured a cloudy yellow and had the fruity aroma I would expect from a saison, but lacked in spiciness and struck me as overly bitter in the finish. Finally, while it wasn't exactly the ideal drink for a hot summer afternoon, with a deep, roasty aroma, smooth mouthfeel, and smoky-sweet finish, the 6.2% Interloper is definitely a stout worth trying. Happy brewing, Freetail—here's to another year of beer.

Historical Maps and What They Teach Us

2009-11-16T23:35:00.009-05:00

Because I don't enjoy shopping, I rarely buy souvenirs on my trips abroad. Yet two years ago, while browsing the stacks of a used bookstore in St. Andrews, Scotland, I happened across a small volume with a faded red cover that I couldn't bear to leave behind. Plus, £4.50 hardly seemed extravagant given that I'd paid £3.80 for a pint of beer and a mug of black coffee the night before.

Published in 1928 by Methuen & Co. Ltd. of London, The Fjords and Folk of Norway is a unique combination of travel guide, social history, and encyclopedia. It was peppered with 43 images photographed and captioned by the author Samuel J. Beckett, and to my delight, included a two-color, fold-out map of a country the preface confidently described as "a land in every way ideal for holiday travel." Given the theme for this year's Geography Awareness Week, I thought it deserved a mention here.

As readers of this blog already know, I can get a bit nerdy when it comes to maps. Even so, I'd argue that The Edinburgh Geographical Institute's precise cartography is interesting for a couple of different reasons. First of all, the scale shows distances in British Statue Miles, Kilometres, and Norwegian Miles—a unit of measure I wasn't familiar with. Secondly, the large scale inset of the great fjord region offers an informative lesson in how physical geography and population density determine transportation infrastructure. By studying the railway, road, and steamboat routes, it's possible to accurately infer that the landscape is rugged and sparsely peopled. In fact, about two-thirds of Norway is mountainous and in 1925, the population was only 2,772,414. Today this Scandinavian nation has about 4.6 million citizens, many of whom still rely on boats as a swift means of North-South travel.

Finally, I found it somewhat curious that the mapmakers also included an inset of historic Bergen, gateway to the fjord region. Lacking enough detail to be useful for visitors, it's informative nonetheless, with elevations for a few of the surrounding mountains and an attempt to indicate the growth of the city beyond its commercial center.

In Praise of Global Knowledge

2009-11-09T10:27:00.015-05:00

Have you hugged a map lately? If not, consider doing something to show your appreciation for maps and atlases between the 15th and the 21st of November. Why, you ask? Because the third week of the month is Geography Awareness Week, an annual event observed by a growing number of students, teachers, parents, and professionals. GAW was created in 1987 to inspire kids to learn more about the distribution of and spatial relationships between people, places, and environments on Earth, but anyone can take part in this celebration of geography—it's not exclusionary.

If this all comes as news to you and you haven't the slightest clue about where to begin, stop wringing your hands and head on over to National Geographic's My Wonderful World Blog. They've already posted a "quasi-definitive list" of fun ideas for gamers, cooks, armchair travelers, and yes, bloggers too. Problem solved.

I'll undoubtedly be writing about maps myself, but I'm also planning to introduce Captain Cartography (pictured) to a few educators here in Brooklyn. With some luck, my comic book will be available in time for Geography Awareness Week 2010.

Art by Dezi Sienty

Painting Venice in China

2009-11-05T12:28:00.014-05:00

With Halloween preparations, an especially persistent head cold, and another large editorial project to occupy my time, I haven't had the chance to write much lately. Paychecks, however, occasionally take precedence over more creative pursuits. At least subway rides to and from Manhattan give me the chance to do a little reading for pleasure.

Earlier this week I finished a fascinating article by one of my favorite travel writers: Peter Hessler. Since reading River Town, his sensitive account of life in the small Chinese city of Fuling, I have avidly followed his reporting for National Geographic and The New Yorker. His most recent dispatch, entitled "Chinese Barbizon," appeared in the October 26th issue of the magazine and addressed globalization from the point of view of several resourceful, opportunistic laborers in Zhejiang Province. One ambitious young woman and her boyfriend earn about $1,000 a month as commissioned painters—not a bad wage in a rural area where artists live rent free for the first year.

The piece is full of pithy observations and sharp insight, but unfortunately, the online version is only available to subscribers. A brief audio slide show related to the story and narrated by Hessler delves into the business of selling cheap oil paintings to foreign buyers.

When in Bamberg

2009-10-26T12:18:00.007-04:00

In describing Franconia, Michael Jackson wrote in his Pocket Guide to Beer that "this more quietly quirky beer region is a pleasure almost hidden among the beechwood forest ridges that form its boundaries." As it happened, my first taste of what may be the quintessentially quirky German brew from this part of the country also occurred at a somewhat hidden location, namely a small wurst and bierhaus called Lederhosen in Manhattan's West Village.

As I'd already sampled most of the draft selection on prior visits, I decided to order from their more extensive list of bottled beers this time. Feeling adventurous, I chose the Original Schlenkerla Smokebeer. For six generations the Trum family of Bamberg has smoked barley malt over beechwood fires and recommend drinking their specialty "slowly with relish, but steadily and purposefully." In my opinion, you simply won't come across better advice for how to enjoy this full-bodied, dry märzen. It pours with a thick, tan head and immediately hits you with aromas of roasted malt and peppery woodsmoke. To be honest, it reminded me of a smoked Gouda... in a good way of course. As for the taste, the smokiness again dominated, but dark chocolate and a very slight sweetness can be detected as well. The finish is long and satisfying.

In short, there isn't another rauchbier I've had with as much character and complexity of flavor—it's unlike anything I've tried before. I savored every mouthful and seriously considered ordering a second bottle before settling on a Köstritzer black lager instead. Plus, now that I've sampled a Schlenkerla, I can say without hesitation that it practically demands a grilled, sauerkraut-topped kielbasa, or better yet, a visit to Upper Franconia.

Good Enough For Grandad

2009-10-15T10:29:00.013-04:00

It isn't easy to admit, but after some careful research I've come to the conclusion that I'm getting old. This only bothers me in so much as it may require changes to my lifestyle. Not many, I hope. I don't plan to stop going to see live music anytime soon, but the ability to drink craft beer twenty feet from the stage in a small venue seems better and better when the alternative is often overpriced domestic lager at a huge club where good views involve a degree of jockeying and jostling that I don't care to be bothered with anymore. In other words, I'm glad their current tour brought the Squirrel Nut Zippers to the Ram's Head in Annapolis on Monday evening.

Announcing early on that they would be doing some "Southern Gothic Ventriloquism," the octet kicked into high gear almost immediately and rarely paused for more than a few moments during their ninety minute set. With the exception of a cover of Stephen Foster's "Hard Times Come Again No More," they stuck to originals, the bulk of which appear on Hot and Perennial Favorites, their second and third full-length albums. Billing this cross-country trek as "The Antidote for the Latest, Greatest Depression," the band cheered the audience with a riotous blend of blues, jazz, boogaloo, calypso, and ragtime. Singers Jimbo Mathus and Katharine Whalen harmonized well and Chris Phillips played his trap kit with flare, but for my money, the horn section stole the show, especially on whimsical numbers like "Prince Nez" or "Suits Are Picking Up the Bill." Some people in attendance, in spite of the average age at the Ram's Head that night, found it difficult to sit still; by the end of the concert they were literally dancing in the aisles. After a show like that, I've changed my mind. Growing old could be fun after all.

Charmed, I'm Sure

2009-10-08T08:08:00.012-04:00

Of course it's only coincidence, but as a Maryland native preparing to visit my family at the end of the week, I took particular interest in the most recent "36 Hours" feature from The New York Times. Assuring skeptical readers that the majority of misfits in Baltimore are wacky artists, not drug dealers, the Gray Lady then recommended forays to neighborhoods like Hamden and Fell's Point.

I'm of a like mind when it comes to the charms of my home state's largest city—there's a lot to see beyond the Inner Harbor. But while I agreed with some of their suggestions (the house beers at The Brewer's Art for instance), I would steer first-time visitors to a few spots the newspaper of record didn't mention.

First off, if you're going to spend any time in Hamden, do yourself a favor and fuel up at Cafe Hon before setting off to explore the rest of 36th Street. The prices are reasonable, the dishes are filling and the decor is only tacky if you've got something against pink flamingos and leopard print. After that, if art appreciation was part of your plan for the day, consider The Walters Art Museum in addition to, or even instead of the BMA. The exhibitions are quirkier and span a greater period of time, and like the more popular collection uptown, admission is free. Finally, Fell's Point. Much has changed since I started coming here in college, but fortunately The Sound Garden has stuck around. Look no further for the best new and used music, video games, and movies, along with the chance to catch an in-store performance by a touring band.

I've never stayed in a local hotel, but if necessary, I'd turn to the listings in the new Moon Baltimore. Their advice is usually trustworthy and often brutally frank plus, in the case of this handbook, it's dispensed by a local writer.

July, August, and Winter

2009-09-28T22:43:00.011-04:00

According to the second episode of The National Parks: America's Best Idea, that's how the first U.S. soldiers charged with protecting Yellowstone described its seasons. Apparently patrolling two million acres of northwestern Wyoming during the coldest months of the year wasn't exactly a plum assignment. But chasing poachers through waist deep snow probably wouldn't delight many people, then or now.

Thanks to Ken Burns and the recession, the parks have seen their popularity grow dramatically in 2009. The AP recently reported that nationwide attendance is actually at a ten-year high and may well set a new record. While I did some camping and hiking in Zion and Bryce Canyon (pictured) last summer, I've only managed to visit a national recreation area and America's first national scenic trail so far this year. Fortunately, I still have three months to explore another corner of our country's remarkable natural landscape. I'm thinking it might be best to go somewhere before the weather gets too frosty however.

Adventures in Mapping

2009-09-21T16:09:00.009-04:00

A full month after blithely declaring that I'd soon have more news about my educational comic book, I actually have something to post. Working with an imaginative artist, experienced cartographers, and now a talented letterer, I am (I think) about a week away from wrapping up the first stage of this project. Previews are coming soon. I promise.

We've settled on a logo, four of the first five pages are inked and colored, the map I commissioned looks great, and after a bit of rewriting and lots of editing, I'm finally happy with my script. Watching Captain Cartography evolve from an idea into a full-fledged story has brought me a lot of joy already, and I consider myself lucky to have found such willing and enthusiastic collaborators. Unfortunately, the next step in the process is drafting a budget.

A Brew With Bite

2009-09-18T12:29:00.009-04:00

The Scots know their malts. Unfortunately, my first road trip across Scotland didn't allow enough time for a detour to Aberdeenshire. I say unfortunately because that very same year, a little less than two months before I arrived in fact, a couple of guys and a chocolate lab started a brewery in Fraserburgh on the coast of the North Sea.

So it wasn't until my neighborhood beer merchant began to carry their malty products that I finally got to try BrewDog. But instead of choosing Punk IPA, their most popular style, I opted for the more unusual and enigmatic Dogma, a heather honey infused ale.

At 7.8% alcohol by volume, Dogma packs a punch, especially if you finish a 660ml bottle by yourself, as I did last night while watching the season premiere of "The Office." It didn't acquire much head when I poured a glass, and to my nose, smelled strongly of overripe fruit and honey. The malts came through in the flavor and although my taste buds did identify notes of bitter honey, they haven't yet learned to distinguish a kola nut from a guarana seed. Poppy seed on the other hand, really stood out in the lingering finish.

I'd definitely recommend trying this complex beer, ideally at pub like The Halfway House, Edinburgh's smallest (and one-time Scottish pub of the year). I'm guessing it could go well with an order of stovies and oat cakes.

The Bard From Bergen

2009-09-10T10:52:00.014-04:00

I don't think I've ever seen someone use an echo pedal as a comedic prop before. And yet that's exactly what Sondre Lerche did on Tuesday night at the Bowery Ballroom. You rarely count on humor from musicians with such earnest lyrics.

Touring in support of his newly-released album Heartbeat Radio, he exuded confidence and excitement as he debuted songs such as the catchy title track and "I Guess It's Gonna Rain Today" alongside older favorites like "Two Way Monologue" and "Days That Are Over." As he switched back and forth between a Gretsch hollow body and an acoustic guitar, he played both instruments with verve and versatility, covering up occasional mistakes with quips and non-sequiturs: "Try to look cool and you'll end up with an out of tune guitar and a broken heart."

In faded jeans and a plaid shirt he did in fact look cool and seemed comfortable on stage, pausing at one point to casually run a hand through hair and inquire about what the audience had "been up to." Judging by the number of Norwegian bands passing through New York this month, I'm guessing that many Scandinavians spent their summer vacations honing their musical chops. I missed my chance to see Kings of Convenience tonight, but I do still plan to catch Hanne Hukkelberg, an artist I wrote about for a forthcoming issue of Nordic Reach.

She was bewitching when she stopped in Brooklyn on her first US tour last year, but I must admit, I appreciate performers that don't take themselves too seriously. And I'd put Sondre in that camp now. "I contemplated playing that 'She Wolf' song tonight," he admitted at one point in his set, "then I realized it was no good without the video."
Photo of Sondre Lerche by Isabell N. Wedin

Of Fall and Fjords

2009-08-31T17:20:00.016-04:00

Technically it's still summer for those of us living in the northern hemisphere. And yet, if I didn't happen to have a calendar sitting right next to me, I might guess that autumn had already arrived in New York.

The harshness of August's rays have softened and the temperature has happily hovered in the seventies for several days now. Walking down Houston Street on Monday morning, it felt positively Scandinavian outside. In fact, it made me nostalgic for past trips I've taken to Norway in September, most recently in 2007.

Besides the weather, a feature and slide show published in the New York Times a couple of weeks ago got me thinking about my last visit to Oslo. As the author observes in his opening sentence, the Norwegian capital is really expensive. Even so, it continues to be one of my favorite cities in Europe. If I had the money, I would go back immediately. But if I were only given 36 hours to reacquaint myself with Oslo's urban landscape, I'd probably deviate from many of The Gray Lady's sensible recommendations.

First of all, I adore Vigelandsparken and have often enjoyed a leisurely stroll along the waterfront. Actually, central Oslo is quite walkable, or if you prefer, bikable. But if, like me, you prefer history and nightlife to theater and art, I'd suggest one of the five museums on the Bygdøy Peninsula followed by a pint or two at the city's fine brewpub and later, maybe an indie band at Mono or some jazz at Blå on the Akerselva River. Then the next day, take your appetite to the end of Line 1 on the tram, shuffle down the path from the station, and prepare for a satisfying meal of reindeer fillet and apple cake, plus the single best view of the Oslo fjord.

As for the Royal Palace, my advice is to stop by at sunset, after the other tourists have deserted the plaza for one of the crowded bars on Karl Johans Gate. To me, it looks all the more majestic in the fading light of a fall evening.

Introducing Captain Cartography

2009-08-20T13:05:00.011-04:00

There was a time when I made my fondness for geography known on a regular basis. And although I don't deal with atlases every day anymore, I still have a soft spot for maps and cartography. So much so, I realized recently, that I needed to channel this interest into a summer project. Naturally, I decided to try writing a comic book.

Being a novice, I started off by reading lots and lots of comics. Of the books I discovered, Action Philosophers, a mini-series by Fred Van Lente and Ryan Dunlavey "that proves that philosophy is not just the province of boring tweed-enveloped college professors," just may be the best. My hope is to do something similar with geography.

So, with a tall stack of borrowed graphic novels, a copy of The DC Comics Guide to Writing Comics, a very rough plot outline, and a concept for a character with uncanny map-reading skills, I set out to write an adventure story that would both entertain and educate. Freelancing gigs, softball games, and a plethora of August birthdays slowed me down somewhat, but there's been some progress, and I plan to flesh out a script once I get thumbnail sketches from the artist who's been working with me. With luck I'll have more news on this front before Labor Day.
Illustration of Captain Cartography © Steve Wands 2007

Shine On

2009-08-04T12:22:00.008-04:00

I knew I wouldn't want for good food on my first trip to the Lone Star State. For starters, it simply isn't the kind of place that does small helpings of anything. I was not, however, expecting to find so many suitable beers to wash down my meals with. Dozens is a low estimate.

Of the numerous local styles to choose from, I soon learned that the one oat soda you simply can't miss is Shiner Bock, brewed and bottled in the "Cleanest Little City in Texas." It was for sale nearly everywhere, and somehow, complemented most of what I ate during my brief visit. Especially the barbecue. In fact, my advice for anyone within a tank of gas from Hill Country is to head immediately to Lockhart, order some brisket at either Smitty's or Kreuz Market, and reach for the ram.

Now that I'm back at my editing desk in Brooklyn, I could really use a smooth, medium-bodied, ice-cold Shiner. It would certainly make this eighteenth-century philosophy go down easier. Unfortunately, Spoetzl doesn't currently distribute their dark lager to thirsty Northeasterners.

Wordy Wandering

2009-07-29T14:39:00.009-04:00

With iTunes, YouTube, and Twitter to entertain us around the clock, I suppose a bundle of paper glued together and perfect bound can seem like a rather old-fashioned form of escapism. But I like my books anyway. Because even though a shrinking bank account has limited my wandering to the lower 48 this summer, my little library of travel literature still affords me plenty of opportunities for vicarious globe-trotting. A few titles that I've recently added to my collection really impressed me with their honest wit and wisdom so I thought I'd post about them today:

The last great book I finished was Jeffrey Tayler's Angry Wind, a riveting account of his journey across the Sahel from Chad to Senegal. The small sounds, smells, and sensations that he captures as he navigates the landscapes and customs of Muslim Black Africa greatly enhanced my understanding of the region.
For reasons that I'll explain in another post, I've been steadily working my way through a sizable stack of graphic novels. One my favorites is called Pride of Baghdad by Brian K. Vaughan and Niko Henrichon. Inspired by a true story, it imagines Iraq's chaotic liberation in 2003 through the eyes of a family of lions.
The next hardcover I'm eager to crack open is David Farley's An Irreverent Curiosity, a zany tale that could accurately be described as The Curious Case of the Missing Foreskin. His chapter entitled "The Semi-Retard's Guide to Learning Italian" got plenty of laughs at the last Restless Legs night on the Lower East Side.

And finally, for people who insist on doing their reading online, I have one more recommendation: my friend Nick Gill's new journal of Latin American food, drink, and travel. I can practically guarantee that his restaurant reviews, slideshows, and hotel suggestions will have you itching to book a flight to Chile, Ecuador, or Peru. Perhaps all three. So what's in your summer pile of reading materials? Which authors have transported you somewhere lately?

Time Traveling

2009-07-24T19:20:00.011-04:00

I'm kind of a nerd about history. And I blame my parents. Although I neglected to keep careful records at the time, I have a hunch that every family vacation we took from elementary school onwards, was designed to deliver us to the maximum number of museums in two weeks or less. It's almost as if they didn't really want my younger sister and I to stop learning during our fleeting summer holidays.

The twisted thing about their preferred manner of road tripping is that as an adult, I've partially adopted it myself. I mean, it's fairly easy for me to breeze through London's British Museum or even skip the Musée d'Orsay in Paris, but many of my most vivid travel memories are rooted in the past: wandering through rows of megalithic stones on a misty afternoon at Carnac, climbing the steep staircase of Chichen-Itza's Temple of Kukulkan, standing over the calm blue waters of Loch Tay on a reconstructed crannog.

But a fondness for ruins can go too far. Especially when that enthusiasm is expressed by millions of tourists. In fact, according to the Adventure Travel Trade Association, "increased visits [to archaeological sites] have led to damage at sites and often portions of sites have to be cordoned off from the public to prevent further deterioration." In the good news department, the ATTA partnered with the Archaeological Institute of America to create a "Guide to Best Practices for Archaeological Tourism." Read my interview with the two authors in the current issue of inTravel.

Not Just for Chugging Anymore

2009-07-09T15:49:00.015-04:00

My first visit to Italy was far too brief. I guess I should've known that four days wouldn't be nearly enough time to explore Lombardy, let alone the rest of the country. But without the luxury of European vacation benefits, I booked my flight to Milan's Malpensa airport anyway, resolving to cram as much sightseeing as I possibly could into a mere 96 hours abroad.

I stayed with my friend Alessandro in Como, and fortunately, he was more than happy to play tour guide for the weekend. He showed me the view over the lake from Brunate, introduced me to the dance scene at Tartaruga, and then, on my last night there, took me to an excellent brewpub, or birrificio.

Liking what I tasted there, I wanted to track down other Italian craft beers once I got back to New York. Although in 2003 I wasn't going to have much luck finding anything beyond Peroni and Birra Moretti. Things have changed in the years since. Earlier this summer I discovered that my favorite local purveyor of malty beverages stocks styles from several smaller producers. As you can imagine, this was a rather joyous occasion. Putting together a tasting of distinctive Italian brews can now be accomplished with a single trip to Bierkraft. Unfortunately, it will also leave a dent in your drinking budget—perhaps no more than a similar quantity of good wine would set you back however.

Of the beers that I've tried so far, Birra del Borgo's Re Ale Extra ($11.95 for a 12.7 oz. bottle) is one I'd describe as perfetto. Pouring a bright, coppery-orange, this super-saison smells sweet and fruity and leaves traces of its three hop varieties on your tongue. For the Italophile, resistance is futile. In fact, I can think of only one better way to revisit to a place that, six years ago, whetted my appetite so thoroughly: going back.

Lesser-Traveled Roads

2009-07-07T18:13:00.009-04:00

Besides plenty of surf and scrumpy, Cornwall happens to have an abundance of quiet, traffic-free cycle trails. Last fall I followed part of one called the First and Last from Penzance to Land's End and back. Along the way I snapped dozens of photos with my digital still camera; seven of them ended up in a slideshow for World Hum.

For those who haven't considered a visit to westernmost England, perhaps these images will persuade you to think again. If biking doesn't sound appealing though, take your pick of half a dozen Rail Ale Trails instead.