tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43811506314652483542024-03-05T20:17:28.054-08:00Trippin: A TravelogueMeg Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423390451781453672noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381150631465248354.post-86074776992502910662011-09-09T13:32:00.001-07:002011-09-09T13:32:03.924-07:00We Have Moved...trippin: a travelogue has moved to a new location at <a href="http://www.megtrippin.wordpress.com/">www.megtrippin.wordpress.com</a>. See you there!Meg Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423390451781453672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381150631465248354.post-68199811592500620222011-09-02T11:28:00.000-07:002011-09-02T11:28:56.776-07:00The South Has Risen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4uEnbFhkthoKROSEOc-yr-mM8-DurPSjGF4FvaIcYFkGQ5xCBTvGiP0Bu8vaIdUHy8prJZ3XXY51rS528CRmPfalanjV22LkPRhXdMN4pIr9JnqxbW3cJJfmu7JWuNfAT5Q2vPFfdSWM/s1600/crossroads.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4uEnbFhkthoKROSEOc-yr-mM8-DurPSjGF4FvaIcYFkGQ5xCBTvGiP0Bu8vaIdUHy8prJZ3XXY51rS528CRmPfalanjV22LkPRhXdMN4pIr9JnqxbW3cJJfmu7JWuNfAT5Q2vPFfdSWM/s200/crossroads.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I'm a Yankee. Born and bred. I love sushi, <b>New York City</b>, and about a hundred other things Northeastern and bourgeois. But, like most great country love songs go, the South has a very real peace of my heart.<br />
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I fell in love with what is often said will "rise again" a year ago in Memphis. Since then I made a trip down to <b>Birmingham</b>, and most recently I drove from my beloved <b>Memphis</b> to <b>New Orleans</b>, which only solidified the obsession. Personally, I don't see what about the South has fallen. For those of you who are not yet Southern converts, I must ask you: why the f**k not? What do you have against the Blues? Or Jazz? Or a pulled pork sandwich oozing with spicy barbecue sauce and mounted, almost pornographically, by a dripping, cold heap of fresh cole slaw? God…take me back where I belong!!<br />
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But I digress.<br />
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If you should find yourself on a similar soul searching journey to parts of our country below the Mason Dixon, I am a firm believer that you must do so in August. August, she says?! In the South? Madness. And yes, my friends, yes it was hot. But also…cheap. And when you are a writer on a road trip, cheap is always ideal. But August just happens to be the time of the <b>Sunflower River Blues and Gospel Festival</b> in <b>Clarksdale</b>, <b>Mississippi</b>. Clarkswhat? If you haven't heard of Clarksdale, it's that spot right at the crossroads of Highway 61 and 49, where famed Blues virtuoso <b>Robert Johnson</b> allegedly sold his soul to the Devil in exchange for his panty-dropping musical ability. Clarksdale is also the hometown of <b>Sam Cooke</b> (of Chain Gang fame). What better spot to enjoy some out-of-this-world Blues and Gospel music from a bill of no-names who sing better than anyone I have heard on the radio. <br />
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The Festival is free and runs for three days on a grassy field right next to the <b>Delta Blues Museum </b>(admission is $7 and completely worth it). Food stalls line the field selling everything from rib tips to chili cheese fries. And the beer is flowing. And the music will haunt you in the best way possible as local librarians or waitresses get up on stage and belt with all of their might the songs that they have heard for generations and generations, and no one will ever know their names. But their fans are local, and that's all that seems to matter.<br />
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Barbecue, Blues and Beer. The South holds its head high still.Meg Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423390451781453672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381150631465248354.post-63261702466207668482011-08-08T07:14:00.000-07:002011-08-08T07:14:18.551-07:00Manhattans in Shanghai<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEwQaLc3z7AUQv2fIFhGT0QxVE0ukG2-7b8290GTQ-ShMullFBokChxVRq1K1Yy2hHzI79lMEQqnSxsYo5MLYpnsr3CFUFrCc4sb_qoZF3K52bfQzagtw4ec5OyMoL6tl_wshNJwOCfpM/s1600/shanghai.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEwQaLc3z7AUQv2fIFhGT0QxVE0ukG2-7b8290GTQ-ShMullFBokChxVRq1K1Yy2hHzI79lMEQqnSxsYo5MLYpnsr3CFUFrCc4sb_qoZF3K52bfQzagtw4ec5OyMoL6tl_wshNJwOCfpM/s200/shanghai.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><i>This post is a little dated, but while I hunt for new material, you may enjoy this blast from the past. Last February I took my first trip to Asia when I visited the newly renovated Fairmont Peace Hotel in Shanghai. Enjoy!</i><br />
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I never drink liquor. But when you walk into the <b>Presidential Suite</b> of the <a href="http://www.fairmont.com/peacehotel"><b>Fairmont Peace Hotel</b></a>, the <b>Sassoon Suite</b>, which overlooks the Bund, and the general manager hands you a Dirty Martini, the least you can do is drink happily.<br />
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The Sassoon Suite is located on the 10th floor of the 11-story hotel. It was originally the private apartment of Victor Sassoon, the first owner of the Peace Hotel. It has a sizable living and dining area, two bathrooms, master bedroom and master bathroom with one of the largest marble tubs I have ever seen.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIdbK4l0xaE4WX9Dg2QVrvhVkBjYly9DFn76F4swAR3WsZJwyxbYnRWAmAgQ2wGkjtST30tCeoryjS92XL7pAxNX_5OfXnCRGYEINVzplp9C7wx1yJ2hbaUXREajk2rtG61Zt88jCmQJw/s1600/tub.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIdbK4l0xaE4WX9Dg2QVrvhVkBjYly9DFn76F4swAR3WsZJwyxbYnRWAmAgQ2wGkjtST30tCeoryjS92XL7pAxNX_5OfXnCRGYEINVzplp9C7wx1yJ2hbaUXREajk2rtG61Zt88jCmQJw/s200/tub.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>After sipping our swank cocktails, the GM, <b>Kamal Naamani</b> escorted our group to the Shanghai Room for a private dinner reception - a blend of east meets west. We dined on traditional drunken chicken (chicken soaked in rice wine), steamed dumplings, marinated vegetables and a deliciously unctuous fois gras. <br />
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As if we weren't treated enough like 1920s high society, dinner was followed by a trip to the world famous <b>Jazz Bar</b>, where we swilled chilled Manhattans and listened to the plunk of the bass and the snap of the snare. I felt like I should have been sporting a bob haircut and sipping gin from a flask hitched under my skirt: from zero to high society boozehound in just one night.<br />
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The evening was enough to put my weary, jet lagged bones straight to sleep in my giant king sized bed. I had to be well-rested for my grueling day of spa treatments....I know, you hate me.<br />
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After waking up with a bowl of hot won ton soup (not as good for a hangover as you may think) I was ready to lay back down on the spa table and allow the therapist to do whatever she wanted to do with my lush of a self. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiGmgY56uzs_n7dP35rnquZetrhamV6buYUy1lb7COuhxmOgXNOPnFt-rMua6GdcvmqtdjYIrMDdM7K7UrByKw-gisVRvnKpRRTRUxBWVP4FVLL1Llwy10fsTN0sY9ZLFRBIopfAGKq8U/s1600/spa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiGmgY56uzs_n7dP35rnquZetrhamV6buYUy1lb7COuhxmOgXNOPnFt-rMua6GdcvmqtdjYIrMDdM7K7UrByKw-gisVRvnKpRRTRUxBWVP4FVLL1Llwy10fsTN0sY9ZLFRBIopfAGKq8U/s1600/spa.jpg" /></a></div>I made my way to the brand-spanking-new <b>Willow Stream Spa</b>, which was added to the Peace Hotel as part of Fairmont's $64 million restoration. The spa has nine treatment rooms, two couples rooms, a fitness center, pool, sauna and steam room. <br />
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I was greeted by Spa Director <b>Lyndell Nelis</b> who guided me to the resting area and handed me a cup of hot ginger tea. <b>Linda</b>, my therapist, came to fetch me and brought me into one of the treatment rooms for a 90-minute Mystic Peace treatment. Dear lord. All I could think during the 90 minutes (or at least for the portion during which I was awake) was 'how much does this cost, because I'm scheduling another one for tomorrow."<br />
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The treatment involves a massage that traces a continues knot on the body. Linda worked her way up and down my spine located exactly where my problem areas were and then proceeded to loosen up tension with a blend of essential oils and firm pressure. She had to pry me up from the table after the 90 minutes were up.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlLHOmPo0e6S-vg4jjcCd_Pt3ZOMe2F1nlINAUtDBToglOWDVfj0PDMIwotg-eoUnE9wziJWcl_J6_8TsND-VC4zcoLezzVqlWZlMobeqdTnovCS0_98xjGqTNUhYnlA9tXZsyqXAS1VQ/s1600/dumpling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlLHOmPo0e6S-vg4jjcCd_Pt3ZOMe2F1nlINAUtDBToglOWDVfj0PDMIwotg-eoUnE9wziJWcl_J6_8TsND-VC4zcoLezzVqlWZlMobeqdTnovCS0_98xjGqTNUhYnlA9tXZsyqXAS1VQ/s1600/dumpling.jpg" /></a></div>Little did I know that this hour and a half of bliss was absolutely imperative to keeping my sanity when I ventured out into the Shanghai night to tackle <b>Yuyuan Garden</b>, one of the largest gardens in Shanghai. It was built in 1559 as a private garden during the Ming Dynasty. Today it serves as a shopper's paradise, built within the Imperial buildings and alleyways. Looking for your Louis Vuitton knockoff? It's there. Jade bracelets? Silk prints? Wood carvings? Check, check and check. Get ready to dust off your haggling skills. It's easy to talk vendors down at least 40 percent. And in some cases, say for instance, when you are taken to the back room on the top floor of a dirty department store and shown the back closet which is lined with designer bags, you are cornered while the vendors shout lower and lower prices at you until you finally agree to buy...but I'm speaking only hypothetically here...anyway....<br />
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Did I mention one of the most famous dumpling houses, <b>Nanxing Dumplings</b>, is also located in Yuyuan Gardens? <b>Anthony Bourdain</b> made a stop here in his Shanghai episode of <b>No Reservations</b>. That's enough for me. Twelve yuan (about $2) gets you 12 little soup dumplings. <br />
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Three days in China is not much at all, but it definitely gave me enough of a taste that I know I need to get back as soon as possible.Meg Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423390451781453672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381150631465248354.post-21725936592793512562011-08-05T06:52:00.000-07:002011-08-05T07:01:40.202-07:00My Cup Runneth Over<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikAU0TlkmysYjmnYmQtHLC0g4fXWkHRA-MSYxHBCF42uJxdRKAr502WjYx6_-JUDatJ5c9f_u0TlwUHkJC6sw86WS1vO-hy3YXy39LjzKNb-fDCXq1gX_nIFKx31K1o7EKt-RQN_H7Bow/s1600/beer22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikAU0TlkmysYjmnYmQtHLC0g4fXWkHRA-MSYxHBCF42uJxdRKAr502WjYx6_-JUDatJ5c9f_u0TlwUHkJC6sw86WS1vO-hy3YXy39LjzKNb-fDCXq1gX_nIFKx31K1o7EKt-RQN_H7Bow/s200/beer22.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>There has been a lot to fret over lately. The headline in today's <i>Daily News</i> mentioned something about 401(k)s taking a hit after the Dow plunged 512 points. What's happening with the debt crisis? What the hell is going on in Syria? But most importantly….what happened to Meg D?<br />
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Rest assured, friends. It has been a long (…okay VERY long…) hiatus, but I can say with confidence that I am back baby. Inspired by my good friend Lauren E., who has her own successful food blog (seriously, check it out <a href="http://www.laurenfoode.com/">www.laurenfoode.com</a>, it's pretty great), I thought I'd take some time to revisit with you fine people.<br />
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Next week I embark on a clash-of-cultures, all-you-can-eat-and-drink, groove-to-the-music road trip from <b>Memphis</b> through <b>Delta Blues</b> country and down into <b>New Orleans</b>. Can you smell the BBQ sauce and beer oozing out of my pores, yet? I sure as hell can. Anyway you may be interested to know that both the party-heavy <b>Beale Street</b> in Memphis and the streets of New Orleans are pretty lax on their open container laws. For the rest of you lushes out there, I've rounded up some other places in our great nation where you can do what our fore fathers set out to establish: drink freely, which, in effect lends itself to a good life and the pursuit of happiness. Forget the New York Stock Exchange and Representative John Boehner. America must be doing something right.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Where to Drink Freely</span><br />
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Butte, Montana<br />
Power & Light District of Kansas City, Missouri<br />
The Las Vegas Strip<br />
Beale Street, Memphis, Tennessee<br />
New Orleans, Louisiana<br />
Savannah Historic District, Savannah, Georgia<br />
Fredericksburg, Texas<br />
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Where to Drink Less Freely That Other Places, but More Freely Than Most Places</span> (aka, where open container laws are tolerated)<br />
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Duval Street, Key West, Florida<br />
Vanderbilt University, Nashville, TennesseeMeg Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423390451781453672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381150631465248354.post-158154039320635092010-12-17T08:23:00.000-08:002010-12-17T08:23:42.142-08:00Sinfully Good New Orleans<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQrhAS_4TLRsiRfsw7wQEBgaTOLuvWMqs2GfOErI5bbIZTSEJUU1Acm73Z89zwdknDDdNFX7bY2PFtAgzB-gK6C12kNU748Iu-j6gh3wEp3dClfyPjHcRDdp5T9SWB6PKNbEnoBMcoWdU/s1600/IMG_0119.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQrhAS_4TLRsiRfsw7wQEBgaTOLuvWMqs2GfOErI5bbIZTSEJUU1Acm73Z89zwdknDDdNFX7bY2PFtAgzB-gK6C12kNU748Iu-j6gh3wEp3dClfyPjHcRDdp5T9SWB6PKNbEnoBMcoWdU/s200/IMG_0119.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Image from meetandeatonline.com</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>There isn't much new I can tell you about <b>New Orleans</b>. In fact, I feel a little outdated that it took me so long to get there. I had friends who went to <b>Tulane</b> in college who would regale me with tales of topless women, Hurricanes (in both beverage and natural disaster form) and general debauchery (combined ever so gracefully with Creole history and a touch of Jazz). But I'm sure you knew all this already.<br />
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What I can tell you about that may be a bit different is an off-the-beaten-path restaurant. Yeah, yeah I know this is my second post in a row about food, but, hey…I really can't recall much about my first night on <b>Bourbon Street</b>, so I wouldn't be of much assistance.<br />
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I was in town for the <b>2010 United States Tour Operators Association Annual Conference & Marketplace</b> (it was about as exciting as it sounds). On my third night in the Big Easy, my buddy <b>Jose</b> and I took a trip outside of the trendy Downtown and French Quarter area to <b>Jeannette Street</b> where we dined at <a href="http://www.boucherie-nola.com/"><b>Boucherie</b></a>, an adorable French bistro-esque restaurant tucked on a residential street. <br />
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Now this is a restaurant worth visiting, if only for the fact that as soon as you walk in the door you are treated like family. In fact, Boucherie itself is family owned and operated. <br />
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Jose and I sat at the bar and ordered a glass of <b>Hondarrabi Beltza</b> wine from Spain (a Gorrondona, to be exact) before eyeing the 'Small Plates' section of the table with greedy, beady little eyes. I loved this restaurant because it took that New Orleans French flare and twisted it nicely with down home Southern comfort and cooking, while still retaining the elegance that even New York snobs like Jose and myself much appreciate.<br />
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Without hesitation we blurted out "Fresh Cut French Fries with Garlic Butter & Parmesan Reggiano." Can you blame us? These came heaped in a bowl with an avalanche of white, tangy cheese on top. Next we tucked into Steamed Mussels with Collard Greens & Crispy Grit Crackers. Tip: The fries taste absolutely orgasmic when dipped in the mussel sauce. Finally the waiter brought us a complimentary taste of the Crispy Duck Confit with Pumpkin Latke and Apple Cider Vinaigrette. If we weren't already in a food coma, this certainly set us over the edge. I was in a sleepy state of plump and bloated bliss. I can't speak for Jose, but the empty plate sitting in front of him certainly said enough.<br />
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So that, my friends, is just a taste (no pun) of New Orleans. I wish I had more to share, but that Bourbon Street is designed to make sure you don't recall any sin you committed the night before, for better or for worse. But luckily for you, Boucherie serves the type of sinfully delicious food that is worth remembering ever bite of.<br />
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Boucherie<br />
8115 Jeannette Street<br />
New Orleans, LA 70118<br />
504-862-5514<br />
Open Tues-SatMeg Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423390451781453672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381150631465248354.post-90709460062360149582010-11-30T10:36:00.000-08:002010-11-30T10:36:12.419-08:00Voracious in ViennaOkay, so maybe this is five months overdue. But I swear I've been productive. I've hit up <b>Mexico</b>, <b>Ireland</b> (twice!) and….<b>New Jersey</b> (trust me, a journey all its own). But the creative juices are flowing once again, my friends and I am back. Oh yes, I am back…<br />
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…most recently from <b>Vienna</b>, <b>Austria</b>, a city that can be summed up with classic, imperial and elegant. I was in town for a short three days attending the first <b>Austria Destination Summit</b>, a trade show for travel agents looking to learn more about the destination. I could bore you with tales from the private Vienna Philharmonic rehearsal, or the nighttime tour of <a href="http://www.schoenbrunn.at/en/home.html"><b>Shoenbrunn Palace</b></a> (which ended with a lavish banquet overlooking the city)…but I think I'd rather tantalize you with tales from the table. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl6Tj4-cUJto9cfphm4qAVroYZkjDizlIsmyBfpRhpDgQsgCnAUjS18y2ld8lvJn5lh5aXBUm_jGAKASP8jF46g0eoDATBwSFOUWU2xz5mXYa02FuW2WJ0pM7v5w1B_18xiT1bITZWl_c/s1600/75666_10100135347713899_822719_55120842_4986648_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl6Tj4-cUJto9cfphm4qAVroYZkjDizlIsmyBfpRhpDgQsgCnAUjS18y2ld8lvJn5lh5aXBUm_jGAKASP8jF46g0eoDATBwSFOUWU2xz5mXYa02FuW2WJ0pM7v5w1B_18xiT1bITZWl_c/s200/75666_10100135347713899_822719_55120842_4986648_n.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><b>Night one</b>: Champagne and hors d'oeuvres in Vienna's iconic <b>Ferris Wheel</b> (the oldest in the world). The Viennese absolutely love their smoked salmon, cheese or ham on bread. And as basic as it sounds, it does the trick. Creamy, salty smoked salmon with a dollop of creme fraiche on a soft slice of baguette. Sold. Then it was wienerschnitzel (lightly breaded and fried fillet of veal) with a squeeze of lemon and a side of scalloped potatoes, with a never-ending glass of crisp, white wine at <b>Wagon 31</b>, the restaurant adjacent to the Ferris Wheel. Did you know Vienna has a booming wine industry? Me neither…but I was not disappointed.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Dessert was loosely translated on our menus as a chocolate-filled dumpling with strawberry sauce. I'm not a girl with a sweet tooth, but man that sounded like a drug that I had to get my hands on. Diabetics: Avert your eyes. Picture a fluffy white cake ball filled with oozing, molten chocolate, crusted in shredded coconut and topped with gooey strawberry sauce. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZNHZMwb97oo9U7JUybT0a5HFNB77BUVCZX4GAUTjKeaEqjcpjWRXybznKYUGrtHqsoPctM73kexTFEfFMY4uXppYrp0GWMyxc85EMS0TGKv8_BpFTSKUK2BfQtRBfE_XTDRzxgdRoei0/s1600/154531_10100135349116089_822719_55120904_632905_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZNHZMwb97oo9U7JUybT0a5HFNB77BUVCZX4GAUTjKeaEqjcpjWRXybznKYUGrtHqsoPctM73kexTFEfFMY4uXppYrp0GWMyxc85EMS0TGKv8_BpFTSKUK2BfQtRBfE_XTDRzxgdRoei0/s200/154531_10100135349116089_822719_55120904_632905_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Night two: A private dinner in the wine cellar of <b>Klosterneuburg Monastery</b>, a Roman Catholic monastery just outside of Vienna on the <b>Danube</b> river. The working monastery is home to not only a cellar chock full of delicious Viennese wine, but it is home to the largest cask of wine in the world (56,000 liters!). Hey, heaven. The monastery capitalizes on this by offering guests the opportunity to literally slide down the barrel. Needless to say, I could not resist after I had sampled a few glasses of the onsite libation. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAms2zacYaSEBlUj7ioCtXm49wuNrktzYsbnpeFZbuzlz35mLLVGbYxjC6KQdo4NAVJcRH05X3SP_XHKoavHba3WYSy0q0yMVHv6mss6AJZEOxKRCFtmNBnqHfZNbgXSNox7USQG_SSrA/s1600/154472_10100135354006289_822719_55121025_2387912_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAms2zacYaSEBlUj7ioCtXm49wuNrktzYsbnpeFZbuzlz35mLLVGbYxjC6KQdo4NAVJcRH05X3SP_XHKoavHba3WYSy0q0yMVHv6mss6AJZEOxKRCFtmNBnqHfZNbgXSNox7USQG_SSrA/s200/154472_10100135354006289_822719_55121025_2387912_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Night three: A feast for the senses and a true taste of Vienna. Our hosts rented out <b>Cafe Gloriette</b>, part of Schoenbrunn Palace, the summer residence for the Habsburg family. It was built in 1775 as a 'temple of glory' for <b>Empress Maria Theresia</b>. In 1780 it was transformed into a breakfast room for the <b>Emperor Franz Josef I</b>. Today it is an elegant restaurant boasting breathtaking views over Vienna. Arriving at night was an experience all its own as the building was set aglow with dramatic lighting. We entered to a quartet playing delicate Mozart (which later erupted into some sort of hypnotic blend of house beats with electric Mozart - odd, but it grew on me. Or maybe that was the wine). In any event I tucked into a Viennese staple: beef broth with soft dumplings, similar to matzoh balls. Following this we were served flaky cod and saddle of veal, all culminating with my favorite: oh yes, those chocolate-filled dumplings. What a gloriously calorie-filled bookend to an already overindulgent trip. <br />
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Despite my waistline's better judgment, Vienna has not seen the last of me.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCrkVjL4lsNfmu2vNOKhqiBH1xoOFKSlF80bHSOHc3HQHRzko9rxxOurGF0BqyjfnFZjaNA7FIbRpc8d5swZOKMuhd0GObDRLHoewnsq2AzujNEBNCcIGxkyUy5lgMeBzBgbKmy7kDuBU/s1600/76920_10100135354355589_822719_55121040_7718329_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCrkVjL4lsNfmu2vNOKhqiBH1xoOFKSlF80bHSOHc3HQHRzko9rxxOurGF0BqyjfnFZjaNA7FIbRpc8d5swZOKMuhd0GObDRLHoewnsq2AzujNEBNCcIGxkyUy5lgMeBzBgbKmy7kDuBU/s320/76920_10100135354355589_822719_55121040_7718329_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Meg Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423390451781453672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381150631465248354.post-48287979637326596792010-07-27T07:12:00.000-07:002010-07-27T07:12:57.662-07:00Classy Business Aboard Lufthansa<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpoq8rg_lTIyzUqn_zZoC2TE2cyh6Id0tlTbzhDVL-4KQ2Npb66veODOyo4wz0gP_vV52TLw9OwDncFTri1jOJalEN4OFOMiVCrZlvnyJRT7rQQNg4cMa6VlarKKejAFU2oDfniC915-c/s1600/lufthansa.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpoq8rg_lTIyzUqn_zZoC2TE2cyh6Id0tlTbzhDVL-4KQ2Npb66veODOyo4wz0gP_vV52TLw9OwDncFTri1jOJalEN4OFOMiVCrZlvnyJRT7rQQNg4cMa6VlarKKejAFU2oDfniC915-c/s200/lufthansa.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>I am afraid to fly. There, I said it. Good thing I picked a profession that would keep me constantly on the ground. Whoops. If you are an aerophob like myself, allow me to let you in on a little secret. Two words: <b>Business Class</b>.<br />
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I arrived in Dusseldorf, Germany for this long-awaited press trip last Thursday, July 22, and, man, after a seven-hour flight in <a href="http://www.lufthansa.com/"><b>Lufthansa</b></a>’s business class, I could see anyone becoming an airplane junky. Even me.<br />
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After two glasses of <b>Coppola Shiraz</b> and a plate of charcuterie in the Business Class Lounge at <b>Newark Liberty International Airport</b>, the knots in my stomach seemed to loosen just a smidge. A seamless boarding followed by a very chilled glass of bubbly was enough to almost bring a smile to my panic-stricken face. Even as we sat on the runway for an hour and a half due to air traffic (oh the joys of flying, right?) the flight attendants were sure to come by with cold glasses of sparkling water and orange juice.<br />
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Now for the kicker. As the dinner hour rolled around someone came by and asked if she may set my table. She was kind enough not to laugh at my perplexed look and instead proceeded to place a white linen tablecloth over my tray table. As for menu options I opted for the Tanqueray cured salmon served with orange, pumpernickel and mustard-dill dressing to start. For a main course I tucked into some of the most tender beef short ribs I’ve had in a while. Seriously, this is airplane food? Flight attendants rolled beverage carts by what seemed like every few minutes to top off my glass of red wine.<br />
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Feeling sleepy from a full belly (and maybe from that Tylenol PM I popped) I was delighted to find that my chair reclined to an almost 180-degree angle. Pillows propped up just right and TV tilted so that glare would be minimal, I hunkered down to watch “<b>Date Night</b>,” – that <b>Steve Carell</b> and <b>Tina Fey</b> movie with a star-studded cast (think <b>Mark Wahlberg</b>, <b>James Franco</b>, <b>Ray Liotta</b>, <b>Mila Kunis</b>...). Turns out I probably didn’t need to take that Tylenol PM – that movie was a snore all on its own. Note: There are dozens of movie and television options to choose from. I also watched an episode of <b>Entourage</b> and <b>30 Rock</b> - to which I owe my sanity after suffering through Date Night.<br />
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When I awoke breakfast had long been over but I found a nice to-go bag by my seat with a sandwich, yogurt and some fresh fruit. Well rested, satiated and safe I was ready to take on Dusseldorf. Aerophobia cured…or at least until I’m back flying coach.Meg Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423390451781453672noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381150631465248354.post-68675513354875804012010-07-20T18:54:00.000-07:002010-07-20T18:54:12.483-07:00Dorf-Bound<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg6h_u2i7cgj7KIQmUWZNhLlgUsIIHree4gFXDfgnQ1pRxXJ_ZDleQG1MlHfMSbrRyKRhbp5wjmDSyqXgJoR_76LMTEaXNa7_3AgVFcnAsCwNQIAJ6JPqGkPO7Qm21_1sv29vpNU36-ec/s1600/dusseldorf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg6h_u2i7cgj7KIQmUWZNhLlgUsIIHree4gFXDfgnQ1pRxXJ_ZDleQG1MlHfMSbrRyKRhbp5wjmDSyqXgJoR_76LMTEaXNa7_3AgVFcnAsCwNQIAJ6JPqGkPO7Qm21_1sv29vpNU36-ec/s200/dusseldorf.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Any aspiring travel writer dreams of that first press trip. <b>Bali</b>, <b>Argentina</b>, <b>Australia</b>, perhaps. But I, always the pessimist, assumed that my first official press trip would be to the brilliantly lit conference centers of <b>Philadelphia</b>, or to the gorgeous coast of <b>Queens</b>, <b>New York</b>. Well, my friends, I'm on the eve of this very first press trip and I'm off to <b>Dusseldorf</b>....<b>Germany</b>, and I could not be more excited.<br />
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Don't ask me what's in Dusseldorf. I have no idea, but I suppose that is half the fun. Right now I'm more focused on the VIP service at the airport, or the business class flight on Lufthansa, or the five-star luxury hotel in prime downtown Dusseldorf (whatever that means). I hope you will join me on this little adventure over the next few days, but for now I am officially Dorf-bound. <br />
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Just to make this post the slightest bit educational, here are five fun facts on Dusseldorf:<br />
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1. Dusseldorf is home to the largest festival on the Rhine river, attracting over 4.5 million visitors each July. (And yes, yours truly will be attending. Can you say Oktober in July? Apparently the festival is a giant beer fest on the Rhine. I'm already hooked.)<br />
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2. Dusseldorf has the largest Japanese community in Germany. (Beer AND sushi?? This place is sounding more and more like my happy place.)<br />
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3. The local beer is called Altbier, which translates to "old style beer."<br />
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4. The traditional Dusseldorf meal is Rheinischer Sauerbraten, a roast beef marinated in vinegar and spices. (Mmm? Yeah, I'll give it a shot. When in Dusseldorf...)<br />
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5. The city's most popular band is called Kraftwerk, known for avant-garde electronic music. (I threw this one in because to be honest, nothing else looked really that interesting.)Meg Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423390451781453672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381150631465248354.post-30204672407021322082010-06-14T11:49:00.000-07:002010-06-14T18:08:09.452-07:00Undoing the Overplayed Honeymoon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGwv4JnH3Q9HuIr33lyT_cMUKGEtwF7pcTi-f1X0kA19iyL62Afkq0crpkoCHXujQJZrf3BG3trWA5S9mbRsK_qQyeEzuw9p_FTIkLaSf5QjoeddY3Pet1XBhaBVnpto0baJrs7jeJUgM/s1600/image002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGwv4JnH3Q9HuIr33lyT_cMUKGEtwF7pcTi-f1X0kA19iyL62Afkq0crpkoCHXujQJZrf3BG3trWA5S9mbRsK_qQyeEzuw9p_FTIkLaSf5QjoeddY3Pet1XBhaBVnpto0baJrs7jeJUgM/s200/image002.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>What's the first thing that pops into your head when you hear 'honeymoon?' I would make a hefty wager without hesitation that more often than not your image is something incredibly cliche. <br />
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Let me guess. A coconut beverage on a beach in <b>Aruba</b>, right? Or perhaps a nap in a hammock under the shade of a palm tree...on a beach in Aruba. Maybe a scandalous encounter in a hot tub....that overlooks a beach in Aruba. Are you getting my point? For as long as there have been honeymoons, newlyweds, still drunk off one another to the point where every little burp is still adorable, have flocked to places like the <b>Caribbean</b> or <b>Hawaii</b> to bask in the sun and deluded fantasies about how their lives meant nothing until they used each other's toothbrushes.<br />
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Well, my friends, times they are a-changing. Honeymooners are saying 'been there, done that' to overused destinations as their expectations rise. <b>Virtuoso</b>, a luxury travel network in the U.S., recently unveiled the <b>30 Top Honeymoons</b>, which were chosen by the industry's top honeymoon specialist. So what destinations featured prominently? <b>Vietnam</b> and <b>Cambodia</b>.<br />
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...what? The countries previously torn apart by genocide, war, Agent Orange and the Khmer Rouge? Sounds like a gorgeous brochure. This is like saying 40 years from now, "Hey baby I can't decide where we should go for our honeymoon. I mean, <b>Kabul</b> definitely has the nightlife, but <b>Mogadishu</b> has the beaches." But hey, anything is possible. Clearly. Now the region is home to UNESCO World Heritage sites, beaches, five-star accommodation...everything you could want from a honeymoon but in a fresh and exotic location.<br />
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If you are one of those who have just had a ring slapped on your finger and are considering a honeymoon destination, consider a new nine-night escape that includes stays at <b>The Nam Hai</b> in <b>Hoi An</b>, <b>Sofitel Legend Metropole Hanoi </b>and <b>Siem Reap</b>'s <b>Hotel de la Paix</b>, for $8,096 per couple. For more information visit<a href="http://offers.virtuoso.com/350065/honeymoons_nam.html"> http://offers.virtuoso.com/350065/honeymoons_nam.html</a>.Meg Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423390451781453672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381150631465248354.post-1516220150054058382010-05-31T15:32:00.000-07:002010-05-31T15:35:18.350-07:00The Other Side of Memphis<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvMN9bZF9UB4F3ssQfjck84kSNyoW3l4u8Onxe2e0fOmgDTgA6LCFQYAUscpvECqMNdAfJe9Z6xB62pwg98o9Jj4TxHuflnJEX3vee8d6Xh3toRcjXOAoei3iiKlyAkvlwQzX96pPjO30/s1600/IMG_2957.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvMN9bZF9UB4F3ssQfjck84kSNyoW3l4u8Onxe2e0fOmgDTgA6LCFQYAUscpvECqMNdAfJe9Z6xB62pwg98o9Jj4TxHuflnJEX3vee8d6Xh3toRcjXOAoei3iiKlyAkvlwQzX96pPjO30/s200/IMG_2957.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>Roaming <b>Memphis</b> in the bright of day is sobering. At least, that's how we felt on Monday as we readied to head back to <b>New York</b>. Our last stop on our list was the <a href="http://www.civilrightsmuseum.org/home.htm"><b>National Civil Rights Museum</b></a>, and I don't think there could have been a more appropriate way to spend our last few hours.<br />
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In the blur of Blues, ribs and beer it is almost easy to forget that Memphis was the city in which <b>Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr</b>. was shot and killed on April 4, 1968. He was killed on the balcony of The Lorraine Motel, which has been turned into the museum. It is eye-opening and, in my opinion, a must for anyone. <br />
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Before you enter the exhibit you watch a screening of the Oscar-nominated 'The Witness,' narrated by <b>Rev. Billy Kyles</b>, who was with Dr. King the night he died. If at the end you aren't holding back tears then you missed the whole point of the film. <br />
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Wind your way through the history of American civil rights. What makes this exhibit that much more meaningful is that it is located in the South. I don't think it would have hit me as hard were it located in New York.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifzWjSpowHQUod77wYrH-6VAG4fU73QE4iXoxQUqkVHQVgrz7RQKnHXVleuPPQcqf7Lhi3XQhoMq_EhZ49eataL8sM4Erk50eUbPRspa89pJf6VPtSQJYVQTryUx9UgaZIIFj4s0smB5Y/s1600/IMG_2959.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifzWjSpowHQUod77wYrH-6VAG4fU73QE4iXoxQUqkVHQVgrz7RQKnHXVleuPPQcqf7Lhi3XQhoMq_EhZ49eataL8sM4Erk50eUbPRspa89pJf6VPtSQJYVQTryUx9UgaZIIFj4s0smB5Y/s200/IMG_2959.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>The museum takes you up to room #306, Dr. King's room. Here you can look out a glass window onto the balcony where he was murdered. There really aren't any words to capture this experience - at least none that wouldn't sound forced and corny. Just go for yourself. Adult admission is $13 and I would carve out three hours to do it properly. You do not want to rush.<br />
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We meandered down to <b>Beale Street</b> and although a good handful of people roamed in and out of the blues clubs and restaurants, it looked more like a ghost town compared to the past two nights. We even made an attempt to get back to <b>Ground Zero</b> to find out the name of Johnny's band (I feel stupid that I can't remember), but seeing it empty and silent was eerie and another reminder that the journey really was over.<br />
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I'll be raving about this trip for a very long time. I cannot wait to get back and I will recommend Memphis to anyone.Meg Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423390451781453672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381150631465248354.post-22141370137929591762010-05-30T15:47:00.000-07:002010-05-30T15:56:31.912-07:00We Went to Graceland, Graceland, Memphis, Tennessee<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFrOYc14_GuH9XWDPmavdIf_H_04Chr8pCg__NxpcL-OWzFEXp1YqVDyWsgSPD-qy3Zku9rpyD1pOQj3_6o3Bj71AKTEkVT7Au6U-uq-ydpeIiIrX9w9BwMzTxr50u1U_zxhrTDfugk_Q/s1600/IMG_2933.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFrOYc14_GuH9XWDPmavdIf_H_04Chr8pCg__NxpcL-OWzFEXp1YqVDyWsgSPD-qy3Zku9rpyD1pOQj3_6o3Bj71AKTEkVT7Au6U-uq-ydpeIiIrX9w9BwMzTxr50u1U_zxhrTDfugk_Q/s200/IMG_2933.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>The whole drive here whenever we mentioned we were going to <b>Memphis</b> we got one of two responses: skeptical looks (which, after last night's insanity we are still confused about) and "You into <b>Elvis</b>, or something?"<br />
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Ok...yes, we went to <a href="http://www.elvis.com/"><b>Graceland</b></a>. I know I like to pride myself on not being a tourist but, come on. I think if an entire Paul Simon album bears its name it really is worth a visit. And also...it's Elvis.<br />
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I'll admit I didn't know much about the King or his palace before my visit, but I was told by my friend Becca (an avid Graceland visitor) to opt for the Platinum Tour Tickets, which cost $34 and include an audio-guided tour of the Mansion; access to his airplanes; access to the Automobile Museum; his Hollywood Exhibit; a pop culture exhibit; access to a wardrobe exhibit; and a self-guided tour of the '68 Special exhibit.<br />
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Elvis bought Graceland in 1957 for around 100 grand. He was 22. I'm 22 and I think I'm making it through the rest of this weekend on $61. It's good to be the King.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9IGj0K9vEc5IPwfbnVmUoyLV6eYpdLEGpMMVntRcRT82Vii16-y8U7sfX4gQqawynu3shU49GJ9PfGhty9bPpifT6jz2SKCG5X-RB99j8AxYX8ehknizZyt7eOYmGbJPevmGDRsSUwBw/s1600/IMG_2940.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9IGj0K9vEc5IPwfbnVmUoyLV6eYpdLEGpMMVntRcRT82Vii16-y8U7sfX4gQqawynu3shU49GJ9PfGhty9bPpifT6jz2SKCG5X-RB99j8AxYX8ehknizZyt7eOYmGbJPevmGDRsSUwBw/s200/IMG_2940.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><i>"There's a pretty little thing waiting for the King...down in the Jungle Room." - '<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4JzuZW-Lcns">Walking in Memphis' by Marc Cohen</a>.</i> <br />
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The tour of the mansion takes you through the lower floors. The upstairs, Elvis' private quarters, remain off limits out of respect. You get to see the living room, dining room, kitchen, basement and of course, the Jungle Room. Holy 1970s decor. Shag carpet on the ceiling? What were people thinking? The tour also includes the grounds of Graceland, including displays on his movie career and his many, many awards.<br />
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Getting there: If you don't have a car there is a free shuttle service that leaves from the <a href="http://www.memphisrocknsoul.org/"><b>Memphis Rock'n'Soul Museum</b></a> every hour on the half hour. I'd carve out a good three hours to do Graceland right.<br />
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Not into Elvis? There is still plenty to do. We also checked out the<a href="http://www.belzmuseum.org/"><b> Beltz Museum of Asian and Judaic Art</b></a> and tomorrow we plan on hitting the<a href="http://www.civilrightsmuseum.org/home.htm"><b> Civil Rights Museum</b></a>. Memphis is also a prime location for people watching. Grab a stool at one of the many bars with front windows and watch the local color pass by. Check out the giant decked out carriages that leave from <a href="http://www.peabodymemphis.com/"><b>The Peabody Hotel</b></a>. While you're there, see the <a href="http://www.peabodymemphis.com/peabody_ducks/index.cfm"><b>March of the Ducks</b></a>, which happens at 11 a.m. and 5 p.m. Get there an hour early to get a good seat. It's a little kitschy but the ducks are so damn cute.<br />
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<object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/SBmAPYkPeYU&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/SBmAPYkPeYU&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br />
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<object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/i9rDBohg1yc&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/i9rDBohg1yc&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Meg Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423390451781453672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381150631465248354.post-63335694410772658652010-05-30T15:06:00.000-07:002010-05-30T20:03:11.610-07:00Walking (the Line) in Memphis<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaKFQ-mLYzL3nd2vrscBlSe48W8870T_279eSjQWl3SMEzNJqR5H1Gp8G0WkZrKkQIdo_XxqDACqDKoUZj8LitCE_PKvZ5PLDbqKCg6Wz9mwbmoWQzOnmcfZDbTK0HL0qlNg6ieyJY278/s1600/IMG_2913.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaKFQ-mLYzL3nd2vrscBlSe48W8870T_279eSjQWl3SMEzNJqR5H1Gp8G0WkZrKkQIdo_XxqDACqDKoUZj8LitCE_PKvZ5PLDbqKCg6Wz9mwbmoWQzOnmcfZDbTK0HL0qlNg6ieyJY278/s200/IMG_2913.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>Smoky barbecue goodness wafting out of a small alley off <b>Union Ave.</b> between <b>Second</b> and <b>Third</b> streets can only mean one thing. It's time for a <a href="http://www.hogsfly.com/"><b>Rendezvous</b></a>, arguably the most famous (and best) barbecue joint in <b>Memphis</b>. Our night started with a full order of pork ribs, cole slaw, chicken nachos and Heinekens and it only got better from there. By the way, the wait at Rendezvous is very, very long. We waited about an hour, but it was very much worth it.<br />
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Feeling sleepy from full bellies we were about to call it a night. Yes, we were sleepy and were considering passing out in our very comfortable beds at <a href="http://www.starwoodhotels.com/westin/property/overview/index.html?propertyID=1563"><b>The Westin Memphis Beale Street</b></a>. (Guests should ask for <b>Joan</b>, the concierge, who is a fountain of Memphis knowledge.) But first we wanted to see what all the fuss was on <b>Beale Street</b>. Oh my. The cop-guarded street is closed to cars and revelers are stopped on their way in for a quick ID check. That's right. We got carded to walk on a street. Why? No open container laws on Beale Street. I knew we were in for an adventure.<br />
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We donned the Beale Street badge - a giant cup of Bud Lite (there are beer carts all along the street and most giant beers cost $5). From there we walked up the block as the soulful sound of Blues poured out from every venue. If you're thinking Beale Street is just for tourists, think again. Packed with locals. And everyone wants to hear who is performing. To play on Beale Street is really to have made it.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_yKZm0K4hyiQtqUwM_G3_Lbd4QZamPcRk3wZvqAiFWXcCGEKoTyTJXnPz8cF-8Tg3EK0HDE6vuaLsBb_1Pq5f4ib50ppWQz_Pbw-i3EnHv1SWCO4IQN98Mo2eeXZbnKrxIqm1xhGbPdA/s1600/IMG_2922.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_yKZm0K4hyiQtqUwM_G3_Lbd4QZamPcRk3wZvqAiFWXcCGEKoTyTJXnPz8cF-8Tg3EK0HDE6vuaLsBb_1Pq5f4ib50ppWQz_Pbw-i3EnHv1SWCO4IQN98Mo2eeXZbnKrxIqm1xhGbPdA/s200/IMG_2922.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>We were lured to a small stage in a small pavilion. After watching the guitarists and sax player jam for a while one of the two guitarists motioned to me...to come up on stage. Now, I am not into being in front of people, but I thought 'what the hell' and headed up the steps. The guitarist handed me his instrument and I held it flat out in front me as he proceeded to pick and play it while it was in my hands. Probably one of the coolest things I have ever seen. Saskia and I waited around after the show to say hello to him. Turns out his name is <b>Johnny Holiday</b> (not his real name, but I promised I would keep his real identity a secret). Why Holiday? "Because I'm always on vacation," he told us. He is the unofficial mayor of Beale Street. Everywhere we went with him folks were calling out 'Hey Johnny! How you doing?' We felt like Memphis royalty to be in his company.<br />
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Slipping past cover charges (I was introduced as his wife) we made our way into <a href="http://www.groundzerobluesclub.com/ground_zero_memphis/html/home.html"><b>Ground Zero</b></a>, a club on Beale Street owned by <b>Morgan Freeman</b>. This was to be our hangout for most of the night, as Johnny was to play there at midnight. A voluptuous woman belted out the Blues on stage as we knocked back beer after beer (and maybe a shot or two of Jim Beam, after Saskia opted for that over tequila). <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh40Q-je61JBt7gCY31etB-ajThob7dT5qwCDpOtAqpu7UqYPlniyIVixMocSw3VYxeHMZqVjM_CkACuNMaEIn5MgacHXFdtsikL6gnswgCE2VHM31jDzPq27Ue0TWu8T9nYp4cG4PGggY/s1600/IMG_2924.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh40Q-je61JBt7gCY31etB-ajThob7dT5qwCDpOtAqpu7UqYPlniyIVixMocSw3VYxeHMZqVjM_CkACuNMaEIn5MgacHXFdtsikL6gnswgCE2VHM31jDzPq27Ue0TWu8T9nYp4cG4PGggY/s200/IMG_2924.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>As the night got fuzzier and we all got friendlier it was revealed that Johnny actually held a role in the 2005 movie, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1737466/"><b>Walk the Line</b></a>. He plays Carl Perkins, if anyone is interested. <br />
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The night ended in haze of dancing, singing and some killer solos by Johnny. Memphis, you may have climbed your way into my Top 5 Places in the U.S.<br />
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Check out the videos of Johnny at Ground Zero <br />
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<object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/W7yRihg6mlc&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/W7yRihg6mlc&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br />
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<object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/H3jQ9M5aS6Q&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/H3jQ9M5aS6Q&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Meg Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423390451781453672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381150631465248354.post-40003672874923753662010-05-30T14:46:00.000-07:002010-05-30T16:24:07.081-07:0018 Hours in Nashville<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1_oz8ZknMS5RPKoUPhNR9PmPQj9hIgG16ACfX6RvS6L8rgiXCwEFGp3386f_-5rNYN6aDsvpKhIN2WpA0q2_vfcdGk8mc_MFnGDaVIItE8cNMo0Xk3mNB3dOvePkIjuEvnM9ZM6unNP8/s1600/IMG_2883.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1_oz8ZknMS5RPKoUPhNR9PmPQj9hIgG16ACfX6RvS6L8rgiXCwEFGp3386f_-5rNYN6aDsvpKhIN2WpA0q2_vfcdGk8mc_MFnGDaVIItE8cNMo0Xk3mNB3dOvePkIjuEvnM9ZM6unNP8/s200/IMG_2883.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>After almost 900 miles on the road we were ready to blow off some steam. Newbies to <b>Nashville</b> on a short stay can't go wrong with Broadway between First and Fourth avenues. We had a few must-sees on our list recommended to us by a friend who grew up in Nashville, but first we decided to do a little exploring on our own. <br />
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These three blocks are a smörgåsbord for the senses - bright, flashing lights; the succulent smell of grease and fat dripping off of roasting meat; and that familiar twang of country music. We spotted a sign that said "70 Beers on Tap" and there was no question where the night was going to begin. <br />
<b><a href="http://www.broadwaybrewhouse.net/"> Broadway Brewhouse Downtown </a></b>(317 Broadway, there's another one at 1900 Broadway, as well) is a comfortable sports bar-meets-saloon with wide, open windows and very friendly hosts. Saskia and I tried the local Nashville brew, <a href="http://www.yazoobrew.com/"><b>Yazoo</b></a>. I had the Pale Ale and Saskia opted for the Amber. In all honesty, while good, they weren't very memorable so after one each we switched to old favorites - Red Hook and good ol' fashioned Bud Lite. Hey, at least we tried.<br />
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After knocking back a few of those it was time to eat and we heard there was no better place than <b><a href="http://www.jacksbarbque.com/">Jack's BBQ</a></b>, also on Broadway (so good, in fact, that when we told the bell hop we were going there he felt inclined to remove his hat and exclaim 'amaaaaazing!'). And he was right on the money. We had barbecue brisket sandwiches, mac and cheese, potato salad, cinnamon apples and two Yuenglings. That food didn't stand a chance lasting on our plates.<br />
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Next stop?<a href="http://robertswesternworld.com/"><b> Robert's Western World</b></a>, next door to Jack's. This is the one-stop-shop for country music. Even Saskia, a claimed non-fan of country (cut to her eye rolls as <b>Garth Brooks</b> played in the car) seemed to enjoy herself. We befriended a 78-year-old oil tycoon and his family. Their names escape me but I think that has more to do with Bud Lite than them not being memorable. He offered to teach me how to dance but I respectfully declined. I don't need to embarrass myself in front of an entire bar of two-steppers.<br />
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Lastly head over to <a href="http://thestageonbroadway.com/theStageOn/home.php"><b>The Stage</b></a> if the sound of country gets to be too much. This bar is great for rock and roll and yes, more dancing. Saskia and I enjoyed some Fat Tire beers before we called it a night.<br />
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And that, my friends, is how it is done in Nashville.<br />
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<i>Live music at Robert's Western World</i> <br />
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<object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/HWRfFlaqzV0&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/HWRfFlaqzV0&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Meg Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423390451781453672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381150631465248354.post-400224559638209372010-05-29T12:15:00.000-07:002010-05-30T06:58:43.520-07:00We're Not in Kinsport Anymore<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2jCsoozFQ7RWyC2PKAosjtlb994dMyhyphenhyphen_wp19DL5aBtSRbd65GxfNhF01M9VvJFcvsvdUWGeHai_EanJlcuqfsXT8PA5N-Nt48x5yKYWXBXNcrvYpu01ga39OEwIc6YmIaODJHYLwgJU/s1600/IMG_2889.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2jCsoozFQ7RWyC2PKAosjtlb994dMyhyphenhyphen_wp19DL5aBtSRbd65GxfNhF01M9VvJFcvsvdUWGeHai_EanJlcuqfsXT8PA5N-Nt48x5yKYWXBXNcrvYpu01ga39OEwIc6YmIaODJHYLwgJU/s200/IMG_2889.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>If last night I was happy you need a whole other word for how I feel tonight in <b>Nashville</b>. I'm staying at<a href="http://www.unionstationhotelnashville.com/"><b> Union Station Hotel, A Wyndham Historic Hotel</b></a> in a <b>Station Master's Suite</b>, #620. Holy hell. <br />
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The hotel is built in a restored 19th-century railroad station. Picture a huge arched, stained-glass ceiling in the lobby and two wooden, sweeping staircases. That was definitely a sight for two weary travelers.<br />
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The living room is the size of my entire apartment in <b>New York</b>. The bedroom is just as large. As I write this I'm on my full-sized couch watching one of two (yes, two) flat screen TVs. La Quinta who? Don't get me wrong. <b>La Quinta</b> is great for crashing. It's cheap, clean and breakfast is included. But this is how a hotel stay should be. It's so nice that <b>Saskia</b> and I were very, very close to saying "F*** it" to Nashville and ordering room service and a bottle of wine...but we probably would regret that in the morning....maybe.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfmChhtl9lnBP8ekaVT0Csogk2yqjWLNOBw-2mbYZjIQevNGb9j2KiEHjIS2j9XujVXS4GMtoWdxUShSKkKPFeFZ-dTzezuwAnF9AE2Xmu_tdTjWvUk6DRG63tQpYN8VzTO6p1FxGMHkM/s1600/IMG_2867.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfmChhtl9lnBP8ekaVT0Csogk2yqjWLNOBw-2mbYZjIQevNGb9j2KiEHjIS2j9XujVXS4GMtoWdxUShSKkKPFeFZ-dTzezuwAnF9AE2Xmu_tdTjWvUk6DRG63tQpYN8VzTO6p1FxGMHkM/s200/IMG_2867.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>We're heading out now to see what sort of trouble we can get into but the draw of the king-sized bed and over-sized pillows may have us tucked in and cozy before midnight.<br />
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<object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/tT0HeBNCl7s&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/tT0HeBNCl7s&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Meg Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423390451781453672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381150631465248354.post-27892011063472247962010-05-27T19:56:00.000-07:002010-05-30T16:23:45.310-07:00Frontier Foray Part IIt really doesn't matter to me where I travel, as long as it is someplace I have never been before. Right now? I'm in a <a href="http://www.lq.com/lq/index.jsp"><b>La Quinta</b></a> in <b>Kingsport</b>, <b>Tennessee</b> and man, I have never been happier.<br />
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Having said that, I've been on the road now for nearly 16 hours so maybe my delight is more having a shower and clean sheets rather than being in a brand new city. (From what I can tell, Kingsport is your run-of-the-mill strip of chain hotels and restaurants. Nowhere you'd send a postcard from.)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiRX_d3CjAkSb1xCOL7xkU-HXXWK0YAnBw8nD6aLr_HErFOaJNailIrwbyeuaa6RFybN8FW164j0xsQRJXJLV0KZF_ojdT62z0R344vX_34zaMVBKaPBhWFLdGCYfVDD7WDHeSWiRJTig/s1600/IMG_2818.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiRX_d3CjAkSb1xCOL7xkU-HXXWK0YAnBw8nD6aLr_HErFOaJNailIrwbyeuaa6RFybN8FW164j0xsQRJXJLV0KZF_ojdT62z0R344vX_34zaMVBKaPBhWFLdGCYfVDD7WDHeSWiRJTig/s200/IMG_2818.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><i>In front of <a href="http://www.monticello.org/">Monticello</a>, Thomas Jefferson's Virginia estate. Admission $22.</i> <br />
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The adventure started as I rolled into <b>Washington, D.C.</b> at around 2 a.m. this morning. Cut to five hours later when I was up and getting an egg and cheese sandwich at <a href="http://www.sidamocoffeeandtea.com/"><b>Sidamo Coffee and Tea</b></a> (417 H Street NE...and delicious!). <br />
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<b>Saskia</b> (my copilot) and I, bleary-eyed and unshowered (it's a road trip...), were on the road by 9:30 and we managed to clear the entire state of <b>Virginia</b> in one day. The highlights? Two things jump to mind: scenery and food.<br />
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If you're ever driving in this neck of the woods I highly recommend routes <b>29 South</b> and <b>I-81 South</b>. Both will take you through the lush Blue Ridge Mountains (and yes, they really do look blue as the sun sets behind them and the mist rises over. Beautiful.) <br />
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We stopped for lunch in <b>Shenandoah</b>, Virginia, at<a href="http://www.cousinboogysgrill.com/"><b> Cousin Boogy's</b></a>, a roadside barbecue joint. For $13 combined we got barbecue pork, cole slaw, spicy chicken and hand cut fries. The owners, <b>Tony</b> and <b>Michelle</b>, prepare everything by hand and serve it up in the dining room, which can only be described as part rec-room, part diner, part home kitchen. The floor is sticky with spilled soda and the walls plastered with photos of local patrons as the twang of southern radio plays in the background.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-2wDXvwJWXOMBf2YT7m-XFG0qtB5JA1pgNSoFoIISNFGjTXsaE_5WSch6B1-eDxK2Wdshe37DtSjBdy2OJHIFXEvdXlCsYY66IoSzIYugMc5hXRgYg2cJ2rZA76gLARkRKquqFmKJBrs/s1600/IMG_2812.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-2wDXvwJWXOMBf2YT7m-XFG0qtB5JA1pgNSoFoIISNFGjTXsaE_5WSch6B1-eDxK2Wdshe37DtSjBdy2OJHIFXEvdXlCsYY66IoSzIYugMc5hXRgYg2cJ2rZA76gLARkRKquqFmKJBrs/s200/IMG_2812.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>Cut to dinner. A Southern staple. <a href="http://www.crackerbarrel.com/"><b>Cracker Barrel</b></a>. What are we missing in the North? This place is pure gluttonous American glory, and I truly mean that in the best way possible. For $10 I was served up a sirloin steak, salad, baked potato and corn bread, while Saskia happily ate grilled catfish, corn and carrots for $7. The rest of the menu contains all the large-portioned favorites from chicken and dumplings to fried okra. And after you dine you must hit up the kitschy country store, which sells old time candies, candles, gardening tools and "I Love America" paraphernalia. I'll go back to being my portion-controlled, <b>New York</b>-snobby-self tomorrow. But for tonight I bask in all of Cracker Barrel glory.Meg Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423390451781453672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381150631465248354.post-83706437789801415252010-05-26T09:51:00.000-07:002010-05-26T09:52:05.211-07:00A Good Idea in TheoryToday, my friends, is a great day. A much-awaited road trip is on the horizon, and it will become, I hope, a long-standing tradition. I'm off to <b>Memphis</b> with my good friend, <b>Saskia</b>. We started our <b>Memorial Day</b> road trips last year when we took an inaugural journey from <b>San Diego</b> to <b>Seattle</b>. Unfortunately that gem came before this blog, but hopefully the details from this upcoming trip will make up for it.<br />
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I went to<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/"><b> NYTimes.com</b></a> today to read the <b>Travel Section</b>, which I like to do when work is slow (or when I'm just too aroused with wanderlust to be bothered with meaningless 'work'). I came across this and thoroughly enjoyed it. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2sWuJXcF774tbTehs3mNJN-31tQl2O1YST9SZ4cKSFESoRimeDCJXTTldoZlu7svsdZXxiEM4PR8h66PmxA_t1MoP4jVpYwYLP8WIv3MKCIF5CloBvmk_XhvlME1hpLNB9eu_CSZ4tRc/s1600/26frugal-span-custom14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2sWuJXcF774tbTehs3mNJN-31tQl2O1YST9SZ4cKSFESoRimeDCJXTTldoZlu7svsdZXxiEM4PR8h66PmxA_t1MoP4jVpYwYLP8WIv3MKCIF5CloBvmk_XhvlME1hpLNB9eu_CSZ4tRc/s200/26frugal-span-custom14.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><i>Matt Gross, the Frugal Traveler </i><br />
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The topic, frugal travel, is definitely something I will strive for on this trip. But I know myself (one more beer? Sure. Steak or salad? Steak) and I can pretty much guarantee to you that despite its very useful tips, I will return to you with empty pockets turned inside out. Enjoy!<br />
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<a href="http://frugaltraveler.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/05/25/three-things-ive-learned-about-frugal-travel-and-the-things-i-didnt-do/?ref=travel">http://frugaltraveler.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/05/25/three-things-ive-learned-about-frugal-travel-and-the-things-i-didnt-do/?ref=travel</a>Meg Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423390451781453672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381150631465248354.post-35177398181408892892010-05-05T09:43:00.000-07:002010-05-05T09:48:21.555-07:00Waking Up with Daniel Boulud<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixSqJrBNSF5qzhXD1TKT9qzyiDJYvItr2jwLJKy9yY4ZMDkiPq5Zaie9jJJxXW2KbVo3u6aWKMXM9nDvtMrT-skp-A824Bt5RXFn84ijWH-sdxT8b4h0HHV0X1CwwjhrfJdFBTzOkyi_0/s1600/23_daniel_lg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixSqJrBNSF5qzhXD1TKT9qzyiDJYvItr2jwLJKy9yY4ZMDkiPq5Zaie9jJJxXW2KbVo3u6aWKMXM9nDvtMrT-skp-A824Bt5RXFn84ijWH-sdxT8b4h0HHV0X1CwwjhrfJdFBTzOkyi_0/s200/23_daniel_lg.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>A typical morning for me usually involves hauling my ass out of bed at the ungodly hour of 8 a.m., rushing through a less-than-satisfying breakfast of scrambled eggs (I throw a little hot sauce on there for excitement) and making my way to the office where I will hunker down in my cube for eight hours.<br />
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But yesterday was no typical morning. Instead I found myself sitting at <b>Daniel Boulud</b>'s <a href="http://www.danielnyc.com/dbbistro.html"><b>DB Bistro Moderne</b></a>, dining on congee soup with egg emulsion, french toast with bacon and coconut sauce and a yam cake with mushrooms and gorgonzola and listening to his Frenchness talk about his upcoming projects in <b>Singapore</b>.<br />
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Now yes, I am a morning person. I get more done before noon than most and I am officially useless after 3 p.m. But this was an experience to wake up any morning narcoleptic. The breakfast was hosted by the <b>Singapore Tourism Board</b>, who was informing the media about Singapore's brand new culinary campaign called <b>A Taste of Singapore</b>.<br />
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This breakfast was the final New York event in a series of tastings that kicked off April 29 at <b>New York</b>'s <b>Double Crown</b>. Over the next two years, Singapore will be rolling out a series of initiatives globally that will help position it as a culinary capital in <b>Asia</b>.<br />
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Where does Boulud fit in? For the past few years Singapore has been in the process of building a monstrous integrated resort, <b>Marina Bay Sands</b> (officially opening in June), which will forever change the skyline of Singapore. Boulud will be opening a Singapore location of DB Bistro Moderne in the resort complex. He will be joined by five other celebrity chefs who are also opening restaurants at the complex, including <b>Mario Batali</b>, <b>Wolfgang Puck</b>, <b>Santi Santamaria</b>, <b>Guy Savoy</b> and <b>Tetsuya Wakuda</b>.<br />
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For all you New Yorkers out there who can't take the trek to Singapore, I suggest you check out the <a href="http://www.luckyrice.com/festival"><b>LUCKYRICE Festival</b></a>, which is an 11-day celebration of Asian food and culture that kicks off this spring. You will definitely be seeing me there.Meg Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423390451781453672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381150631465248354.post-73922724869865905792010-05-02T08:15:00.000-07:002010-05-02T12:37:08.622-07:00The Good, The Bad and the Ugly American<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUkEBPYQvsBqNUHgJmZy0TDonVP32Nx2ZnBBw1TyGXv2Wgk_vj6SK9TAU0q7YzWK6ETRFwmWRc7U-0urIC3XTUM9dbpOIz7qQM_1Lbipu9TaV9ZXCzfGLu7TdaOpjcXEZA9bCZ4bIKIcY/s1600/IMG_2745.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUkEBPYQvsBqNUHgJmZy0TDonVP32Nx2ZnBBw1TyGXv2Wgk_vj6SK9TAU0q7YzWK6ETRFwmWRc7U-0urIC3XTUM9dbpOIz7qQM_1Lbipu9TaV9ZXCzfGLu7TdaOpjcXEZA9bCZ4bIKIcY/s200/IMG_2745.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>There comes a time in every tristate area-er's life when a certain rite of passage ought to be made - the journey to <b>Atlantic City</b>. I had such an opportunity this weekend.<br />
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A couple of months ago my good friend, <b>Michelle</b>, suggested we take the trip to Atlantic City (or "AC" as the pros call it) to see <b>Third Eye Blind</b> for her 23rd birthday. Having never been to AC and loving Third Eye Blind from the days of listening to <b>z100</b> on my way to middle school, immediately my answer was 'yes'. So we boarded the <b>Atlantic City Express Service </b>train at <b>Penn Station</b>, popped some champagne and waited.<br />
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Before I go any further let me just make it clear that I am the most unlikely candidate to travel to Atlantic City. Sure, I like my bars - but I can fit in at a bar anywhere. But I don't gamble, clubbing isn't my first or second choice for a fun night, my feet hurt when I wear heels for too long and I've never been to a strip club. (I'll admit I've been curious about that last part and almost went into one a couple years ago, but that was mostly to try and impress a guy I was with.) I was in good company though. Michelle and our other companion, <b>Stephanie</b>, are of a similar nature.<br />
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Okay, so let's go down the AC checklist, shall we? Did us three AC virgins manage to do it right?<br />
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1. Drink - yes. We most certainly got that part right. Cut to the next morning when an empty pizza box, mascara-caked eyes and a string of missed phone calls helped us piece together the end of the night.<br />
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2. Live large - sure. We spent more money than we had, ate a very fancy meal at the <b>Taj Mahal</b> (I wanted to live like a Don. I was getting steak and that was that.) and I'm pretty sure I'll be eating cereal for breakfast, lunch and dinner until payday.<br />
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3. Gamble - not really. But in our defense we definitely tried. In a drunken stupor we wandered into a casino (the name escapes me) and tried our luck at the safest form of gambling for newbies - the penny slots. But the machines kept spitting back our dollars. Each one we tried was not having it. It wasn't until our second attempt in the clarity of day that we realized that the machines won't accept bills lower than $5. Sneaky, sneaky Atlantic City.<br />
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So would I go back? Maybe. I won't rule it out. But I think I've had my fill. One too many mammoth-sized ladies on motor-scooters shoveling funnel cake into their already full mouths, and four-out-of-10 women with their ass cheeks hanging out of their shorts will kill that glitz-and-glam dream of Atlantic City. <br />
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Oh and in case you were curious about Third Eye Blind, the show was phenomenal. The middle school girl inside of me who didn't understand the meaning of the lyrics to<b> Semi-Charmed Life</b> was happy. Check out the videos below!<br />
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<object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/uqMRFnqCBRk&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/uqMRFnqCBRk&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br />
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<object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/l83-HTMLXo8&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/l83-HTMLXo8&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Meg Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423390451781453672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381150631465248354.post-6654340556104178302010-04-19T12:59:00.000-07:002010-04-19T12:59:49.816-07:00Struggle in Bangkok<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1DnjccGdNxpiN82lFvtOYmSatRg45deUurvdVpHOu0hGiQ83X1WZ4ori4PwmiLZzTMQi5DSLY39pE9j-KXbsIAupHT8Ic6iOKcE8QqC2xeaf8ElGhaBsbyaqJbNcDDCv0VfRddRRq_uU/s1600/bangkok.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1DnjccGdNxpiN82lFvtOYmSatRg45deUurvdVpHOu0hGiQ83X1WZ4ori4PwmiLZzTMQi5DSLY39pE9j-KXbsIAupHT8Ic6iOKcE8QqC2xeaf8ElGhaBsbyaqJbNcDDCv0VfRddRRq_uU/s200/bangkok.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>For those of you who aren't aware, on April 12 the <b>Royal Thai Government</b> declared a <b>State of Emergency</b> in <b>Bangkok</b> and the surrounding areas. I thought I'd take this opportunity to fill you in on what has been going on, seeing as <b>Asia</b> is the beat I was "assigned" at work. (I use assigned loosely because I don't actually get to travel anywhere. I'm thrown press releases from Asia's tourism boards and get to write them up under the guise of an Asia reporter. I'll take the bone I've been thrown, but I'm not bitter or anything.)<br />
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Anyway, back to a real problem. Thailand.<br />
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The state of emergency was declared following demonstrations by protestors from the <b>United Front for Democracy against Dictatorship</b> (or the "red-shirts"). On Saturday, April 10, the red-shirts and the Royal Thai Government met head to head in the <b>Phanfa Bridge</b> area, which resulted in 21 deaths and over 800 wounded victims. And the demonstrations continue. <br />
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If you really want to look for a silver lining, it is important to note that the violence has been contained to the Bangkok region. Travel outside of Bangkok seems to be safe. <br />
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But tourism officials, while trying to remain upbeat, are concerned about what this means for Thailand for the rest of 2010.<br />
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"Our concerns are two-fold," says <b>Mark Siegel</b>, <b>CEO of Golfasian Co. Ltd.</b>, a Bangkok-based golf tour operator. "While 99 percent of the country's hotels and golf courses and restaurants are operating as normal, the more important concern is that we continue to have dozens of clients in country. We have to look out for their welfare and assure them that their safety isn't an issue because, in my view, it isn't."<br />
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Still, <b>Russia</b>, <b>South Korea</b> and <b>China</b> have warned their citizens to postpone their trips to Bangkok. It is predicted that tourism numbers could drop 20 percent this year and some analysts are even predicting that up to $500 million could be lost from the economy. <br />
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But economy and tourism aside, the number one concern is citizens, visitors and tourists. Siegel says, "It's disrespectful and simply untrue to assert that things are going forward as normal, and will go forward as normal. This is the worst political violence in 20 years." <br />
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Thailand is the #2 place in the world that I want to visit (a very, very close second behind <b>Bali</b>). My thoughts go out to the people in Bangkok. I hope I can get there some day.Meg Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423390451781453672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381150631465248354.post-59598495895002268972010-04-07T11:57:00.000-07:002010-04-07T11:58:51.617-07:00Hidden New YorkA few years ago "hidden" <b>New York City</b> watering holes became trendy. The return of the speak-easy, if you will. I'll admit that at first I was skeptical. I mean, is it really that much cooler to go to a bar whose door is hidden underneath the second trash can, five paces from the entrance of the <b>Whole Foods</b>, where you have to ring a door bell and climb down a ladder two rungs at a time? No thanks. I'll just walk into any bar where I can get what I came for - a beer.<br />
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Or at least that is how I first approached the subject. But it turns out after visiting a few of these secret spots (which are becoming increasingly more well-known), that they are actually pretty cool and can be impressive places to take your out-of-town friends.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO3zDHK6ZZM2zXaEnej_AhjoIosnajBC1H0rFIkwWs8OH00FZPtwh_mhyefSVfWtpPetSlAVQ-QjiESIy0nIpwx75m3WV8uA9yYYBY7VCBQQnVHzLYNvdkb3svlWSbHAXQtQHdCpoNJog/s1600/pdt1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO3zDHK6ZZM2zXaEnej_AhjoIosnajBC1H0rFIkwWs8OH00FZPtwh_mhyefSVfWtpPetSlAVQ-QjiESIy0nIpwx75m3WV8uA9yYYBY7VCBQQnVHzLYNvdkb3svlWSbHAXQtQHdCpoNJog/s200/pdt1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>1. <a href="http://www.pdtnyc.com/"><b>PDT</b></a>. Okay, for all you New Yorkers-in-the-know, you could sense this one was coming. By far the most popular of hidden New York spots, PDT (short for Please Don't Tell) is located behind the popular hot dog joint, <b>Crif Dogs</b> at 113 Saint Marks Place. <br />
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How to get in: Walk down the four steps into Crif Dogs and look for the wooden phone booth. Enter the booth, pick up the phone and press a button. Obey the rules of etiquette posted nearby. I'm telling you. They mean business. This speakeasy is at the bottom of my list. Why? I didn't get in. Probably because I didn't obey the rules. But hey, maybe you'll have better luck.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ultotqAmAjfwU9gLMC0nRi7ekAfAv2mcyHBNRPP3zmvQa8S2XpNm7_Vgu_pPOP1L4R_oD8HZN-VJ1mcqOuAUuWvXTJTpTeuUt8PDB1L3ilBKXlJ5BmPy_wYdxjdiU6u30qfJK_YzlWo/s1600/20090210_dutchkills_560x375.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9ultotqAmAjfwU9gLMC0nRi7ekAfAv2mcyHBNRPP3zmvQa8S2XpNm7_Vgu_pPOP1L4R_oD8HZN-VJ1mcqOuAUuWvXTJTpTeuUt8PDB1L3ilBKXlJ5BmPy_wYdxjdiU6u30qfJK_YzlWo/s200/20090210_dutchkills_560x375.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>2. <a href="http://www.dutchkillsbar.com/"><b>Dutch Kills</b></a>. I rarely venture off of <b>Manhattan</b>. If I do it's probably because I'm visiting some friends who have made the move to <b>Astoria</b> in Queens. On one particular visit they led me to Dutch Kills in <b>Long Island City</b>, Queens. On an industrial street with practically no signage, this bar stands unassuming at 27-24 Jackson Avenue. Pay no attention to the surroundings. Knock on the door and be prepared to take a time warp back to the 1920s. Waiters dressed in full flapper garb (spats included!) prepare specialty cocktails while a scratchy jazz plays on what sounds like a phonograph. I love this bar.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFvhqgqxxnpqhQkycmONzT-JKWgFnyyM8lPOGqrbUaiTztyHfqU_kGE7d0MqnmmNt2xTJkCgpXTKBQaFtUSlhW11axA7tQdZ3TX8tAHeCLRYdxL1nIzJEMYkG-aCoMzQu-55Q89Wn9VY0/s1600/6a00d8341cabab53ef01156f564e7c970b-320wi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFvhqgqxxnpqhQkycmONzT-JKWgFnyyM8lPOGqrbUaiTztyHfqU_kGE7d0MqnmmNt2xTJkCgpXTKBQaFtUSlhW11axA7tQdZ3TX8tAHeCLRYdxL1nIzJEMYkG-aCoMzQu-55Q89Wn9VY0/s200/6a00d8341cabab53ef01156f564e7c970b-320wi.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>3. <b>Cabin Down Below</b>. Besides beer one of my other great loves in life is pizza. So when I heard that there was an underground lounge <i>under</i> a pizza joint, I had to check it out. Head to 110 Avenue A. Here you will find <b>The Pizza Shop</b>. Wednesday nights through Saturday nights from 10 p.m. on, the men behind the counter will let you through a dingy door. Head down some stairs and emerge in an ultra-swanky underground lounge. Keep in mind that drinks are kind of pricey, but I think it's worth it. This little gem is really off the radar, so it pains me a little to share its location, but I think you'll get a kick out of it.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWIjA5mhbmHmyt7oqZitWHUssENP9nySeBm60WzfCfDjItuDiOZ9OyUWOoda_Cw53MpJEKVdyFLdme2ny0p5fTZf-M1rc3pMKWn3r_4NwHWuMzVnpLNYKpYN6XDZDQG0FJMBt8P01fIGc/s1600/sakagura_inside.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWIjA5mhbmHmyt7oqZitWHUssENP9nySeBm60WzfCfDjItuDiOZ9OyUWOoda_Cw53MpJEKVdyFLdme2ny0p5fTZf-M1rc3pMKWn3r_4NwHWuMzVnpLNYKpYN6XDZDQG0FJMBt8P01fIGc/s200/sakagura_inside.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>4. <a href="http://www.sakagura.com/"><b>Sakagura</b></a>. Okay, let's throw a restaurant in for good measure. That's right. A secret restaurant. If you're in Midtown and in dire need of some Japanese food, I wouldn't point you any further than Sakagura, located on the basement level of an office building at 211 E 43rd Street. Head down the service stairs and open the door. It opens up into a Japanese garden, decked out in wood and bamboo. This is some of the most authentic Japanese food I have ever had (and their sake list goes on forever).Meg Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423390451781453672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381150631465248354.post-63789030266670679282010-04-01T08:56:00.000-07:002010-04-01T08:56:43.118-07:00Heading Home: A True Texas Experience<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDKUlSRURND7nbkNKxR6T2AaMLxkNwRnHhxQt3txzGHGos3EZ4wu4SWQLOoF4MwxtOk2lFBAxfRWmZap817U95tZ5XmqWf9FwQ4w2VmxYB8cr8bfKd3B-E_ugCoZaen7Yi29YFRbZ3qYY/s1600/IMG_2715.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDKUlSRURND7nbkNKxR6T2AaMLxkNwRnHhxQt3txzGHGos3EZ4wu4SWQLOoF4MwxtOk2lFBAxfRWmZap817U95tZ5XmqWf9FwQ4w2VmxYB8cr8bfKd3B-E_ugCoZaen7Yi29YFRbZ3qYY/s200/IMG_2715.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>Ok, so I did the <b>Texas</b> thing. Cattle? Check. Horses? Check. Tex-Mex? Check. Barbecue?....oh man, I knew I forgot something!<br />
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It was the 11th hour and I was en route to the airport when I realized that I had come to Texas and missed out on one of the grandest traditions, good ol' Texas Bbq. I had to make a pit stop in <b>San Antonio</b> before I got to <b>Austin</b>, my departure city, and luckily for me there was no shortage of barbecue joints along the highway.<br />
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We pulled into <a href="http://rudys.com/"><b>Rudy's</b></a> off of route <b>35 North</b> (Rudy's happens to be a chain so if you aren't traveling on this particular route, just check their other locations).<br />
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This was exactly what I was looking for. No frills barbecue. Just a piece of wax paper, a pile of meat, some extra fattening sides and an icy cold beer.<br />
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I recommend getting the baby back ribs, which run for about $13 per pound. I added to it some of the sloppiest potato salad I have ever seen and pickles. The whole mess comes with a stack of white Wonder Bread. Take your tray outside to sit at wooden picnic tables with picturesque views of the gas station and highway. Napkins are rendered essentially useless because every bite leaves a giant smear of smokey sauce across your cheek. And don't forget the beer. My beverage of choice? Shiner Bock, a local brew made in Shiner, Texas.<br />
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Alright, so <i>now</i> I did the Texas thing. Time to head home, y'all.Meg Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423390451781453672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381150631465248354.post-2363962550693296132010-03-29T13:21:00.000-07:002010-03-29T13:46:53.129-07:00Dispatches from Hill Country, Part II<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH1TmoaYuZj3qvDMjPshSLcR59sWqnUEX7xSCx6nuMKTTaoR7fvL1EauCroENcOSONCJMCAnxhuiI0DkJvMagu48Z2pvw064-cBJYnvpGfvrhGwb7NnYHfgGigihpgWe-h0konuN6FsvQ/s1600/IMG_2654.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH1TmoaYuZj3qvDMjPshSLcR59sWqnUEX7xSCx6nuMKTTaoR7fvL1EauCroENcOSONCJMCAnxhuiI0DkJvMagu48Z2pvw064-cBJYnvpGfvrhGwb7NnYHfgGigihpgWe-h0konuN6FsvQ/s200/IMG_2654.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>Day two on the ranch. Horseback riding. <br />
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You can't get much more Texas than horseback riding past longhorn cattle and sheep. Now, let me preface that I haven't been on a horse since I was 12...and this was more of a lumbering waddle than a graceful gallop full-speed through the Texas hills. Think more along the lines of <b>City Slickers</b>, before <b>Billy Crystal</b> helps birth a calf and suddenly becomes a cowboy.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5m6xe2WA_0L-ANaaAaPdUU6_TNqcUa2nN_kqdlZF_PI_wbx38JojIy3Vxc7vtjXbeuDEMXkFyefUP5Woio8yJQg8yHlLSx50Z7Oncj8preLQ_A2K85vLozmErfyC1WRETKi12SNMBEj4/s1600/IMG_2670.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5m6xe2WA_0L-ANaaAaPdUU6_TNqcUa2nN_kqdlZF_PI_wbx38JojIy3Vxc7vtjXbeuDEMXkFyefUP5Woio8yJQg8yHlLSx50Z7Oncj8preLQ_A2K85vLozmErfyC1WRETKi12SNMBEj4/s200/IMG_2670.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>Even so, still pretty cool. I loped along atop my horse, Spirit, who didn't seem to realize that there was someone on top of him and liked to cut it close trotting under low-hanging branches. But this didn't take away from the starkly beautiful views. Rocky hills with serengeti-like trees, dried up river beds and of course, the random livestock sightings. <br />
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Cut to the evening. Supper's on. <br />
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Escaping the ranch's oasis-type feel, we headed into Kerrville for a little local Texas culture: <a href="http://www.mamacitas.com/"><b>Mamacita's,</b></a> a Disney-esque restaurant with a giant Alamo replica in the dining room, complete with Mexican storefronts and a twinkling starry sky. Kitschy? Maybe. Delicious? Definitely. Our group wolfed down blackened snapper, shrimp fajitas, carnitas, chimichangas and goblet-sized servings of margaritas. And for dessert? the restaurant has its own ice cream parlor in one of the faux storefronts. <br />
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So maybe it wasn't the roadside taco hut I was anticipating, but after a few Negro Modelos and a hearty portion of chips and salsa, I was ready to recommend it to anyone who was hungry.Meg Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423390451781453672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381150631465248354.post-74473085320792080592010-03-28T15:19:00.000-07:002010-03-28T15:25:00.712-07:00Dispatches from Hill CountryWhat do you get when you mix nine New York Jews with <b>Texas</b> Hill Country? Well, I am about to find out.<br />
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I just arrived in <b>Kerrville</b>, Texas yesterday afternoon, a small town around two hours west of <b>Austin</b>. So far? I have to say I'm impressed. To be honest before I arrived I had no idea what I was in for. As a "Yankee," when you hear Texas you think super-sized, T-bones and Republicans. But let me tell you something. Texas is big. Very big. And Hill Country? From what I can tell is not your stereotypical Texas.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBAnOPsCtxhLgJIuZ2stCQVVDpuGTMUeMa86FG5kbuNlE-T7LlB-N7pvZZ1nYf3jMQ_6QZPXqGqnL8_qqO64SZW3zFrQAMcw1vfN5vrb4-RYc1h7DrwPheCQiFFirAtJsPzjgHO8M2YSg/s1600/IMG_2640.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBAnOPsCtxhLgJIuZ2stCQVVDpuGTMUeMa86FG5kbuNlE-T7LlB-N7pvZZ1nYf3jMQ_6QZPXqGqnL8_qqO64SZW3zFrQAMcw1vfN5vrb4-RYc1h7DrwPheCQiFFirAtJsPzjgHO8M2YSg/s200/IMG_2640.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><i>Dakota, my aunt's horse.</i> <br />
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Around two years ago my aunt and her husband, both born and raised in <b>Brooklyn</b>, moved from <b>Rockaway</b>, <b>Queens</b> to <b>Tierra Linda Ranch</b> in Kerrville. I was one among many skeptics that they could make Texas their new home. But when I got off the plane and my uncle (a connoisseur of pastrami, seltzer and bagels) couldn't stop raving about the horses, antelope and sheep, I knew that this was not a place I could so easily write off.<br />
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If the gorgeous scenery of rolling, rocky hills and multitude of animals aren't enough to rope you in (a little cowboy humor for you), maybe the absolutely selfless attitude of people will. Everyone I have come into contact with has been nothing but willing to help, no questions asked and no favors in return needed. Take this for example. I spent last night in the guest house of my aunt's neighbor. (There are nine of us here for Passover. As close as we are, nine Jews under one roof is recipe for disaster.) The neighbors were more than willing to help. Several just offered up their own guest houses to strangers. Just like that.<br />
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My guest house, belonging to the lovely Ron and Cheryl, is decked out in a wild safari theme. I'm talking leopard sheets, zebra statues and wild peacock feathers in the bathroom. Ron and Cheryl stocked the mini fridge with sodas and beer and are installing a brand new TV for me this afternoon. Talk about hospitality.<br />
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I'm excited to see what other adventures the Ranch has in store for me. Stay tuned...Meg Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423390451781453672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381150631465248354.post-1078455669829347212010-03-22T15:19:00.000-07:002010-03-22T15:21:49.010-07:00Sweet Escapes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I love my city but believe it or not, one can tire of the 3 a.m. nights, constant noise and and endless interaction. I am a firm believer that getting out of the city at least once a month is necessary to maintaining sanity. My go-to city? A nice visit to my family in <b>Woodstock</b>, <b>New York</b>. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP_aOkidzeLW6Cbp0h5vnXs5OpD16ZS3xOVv_zqPDwmm4D8kaMRXbiYw6rMMLxR_IpJ2POIp9PEUTyzItqw1Ffx6QfAV4HeZ4VQzZTCMuFWaaUvJl8WLVBoPIH1Wz9G0OQNQ2LNL5wxHk/s1600-h/IMG_1996.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP_aOkidzeLW6Cbp0h5vnXs5OpD16ZS3xOVv_zqPDwmm4D8kaMRXbiYw6rMMLxR_IpJ2POIp9PEUTyzItqw1Ffx6QfAV4HeZ4VQzZTCMuFWaaUvJl8WLVBoPIH1Wz9G0OQNQ2LNL5wxHk/s200/IMG_1996.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><i>A little hike up to Dancing Rock in Shokan, New York.</i> <br />
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Okay, we are all thinking the same thing. Woodstock is only good for relaxing because of one "herbal" remedy, and I'm not going to lie to you. The air is ripe with it. But hippie jokes aside, this is actually a pretty cool town. Of course, you can't walk more than three blocks without seeing a grizzled man in a tie-dye headband and flannel, tapping his feet to some Dead song, but that's part of the charm. (Note: The Woodstock festival in 1969 took place around two hours from the actual town of Woodstock, in <b>Bethel</b>, New York. A little insider's tip for you.)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivbdMvRrw_BsoBQ7rr8xO095tKCtXfaPgo66QklOZBmhZASMux6gVrTLhwdPhVfBpWjGQpWqaplKNNba-88C4dWvsjni8l8hhkKlKANPG6NKzmNMOphx9YtnMtqje_ss2auM0eY5zhzCY/s1600-h/IMG_1705.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivbdMvRrw_BsoBQ7rr8xO095tKCtXfaPgo66QklOZBmhZASMux6gVrTLhwdPhVfBpWjGQpWqaplKNNba-88C4dWvsjni8l8hhkKlKANPG6NKzmNMOphx9YtnMtqje_ss2auM0eY5zhzCY/s200/IMG_1705.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>I just got back from my monthly hiatus. A nice weekend of hiking, barbecuing and sitting outside, where the only sound is crickets. Now, my family lives a stone's throw from Woodstock in less-touristy <b>Shokan</b>, but Woodstock and the surrounding area is a great place to go for a day-trip or an entire weekend. <br />
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Getting there: If you have a car, Woodstock is exit 19 off the <b>New York State Thruway</b>. If not, and you are coming from NYC, head to <b>Port Authority</b> and take <a href="http://www.trailwaysny.com/"><b>Adirondack Trailways</b></a> bus service. The bus ride is around two and a half hours and a round-trip ticket costs $50.<br />
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My top picks:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><b>Sweet Sue's Restaurant</b> - If you stay on the bus for a few more stops you'll wind up in the hunting town of <b>Phoenicia</b>. The main drag (aptly named Main Street) is just a couple blocks but you'll find some of the best eats. My top breakfast spot is Sweet Sue's restaurant (try the breakfast burrito - a mammoth-sized roll-up of eggs, bacon, cheese and avocado served with a side of salsa). I'm not a pancake person, but if you are this is your stop. Sue serves up a selection of around 20 different styles of pancakes.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjhJ6jtk8VBwmTDneVHe_UKV3M76yHQLVYDMpwxtAfWCf478ME0kETptol3TgbdCsHlKrwtuFy6IAlfcKIkB87tbys2zL1R6qpqFF4ePzq4k6tweOjZ4fEVczrQF1AP53CuDYLJyQCF_4/s1600-h/04pancakesundae.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjhJ6jtk8VBwmTDneVHe_UKV3M76yHQLVYDMpwxtAfWCf478ME0kETptol3TgbdCsHlKrwtuFy6IAlfcKIkB87tbys2zL1R6qpqFF4ePzq4k6tweOjZ4fEVczrQF1AP53CuDYLJyQCF_4/s200/04pancakesundae.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><i>I wasn't kidding about the pancakes.</i><br />
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<b>Brio's</b>, also in Phoenicia, is great for pizza, and this is coming from a New Yorker. This thin-crust beauty tastes good with just about any topping. My favorite? Goat cheese and onions.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOGvlwTPmoxHqoKwOrDU53bKo6afZlcTV9Ax1D-IryeqKqAQ8Lx4agLdD2vW-Q29yM9jwXwLq_uAw7CbDx_x0_-o_OXBGiq9jGBeFKmLZm-apCh-h9DhNUUwctFrkiJX-IPr_ZnrX3j4A/s1600-h/2935695981_27509ac7e5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOGvlwTPmoxHqoKwOrDU53bKo6afZlcTV9Ax1D-IryeqKqAQ8Lx4agLdD2vW-Q29yM9jwXwLq_uAw7CbDx_x0_-o_OXBGiq9jGBeFKmLZm-apCh-h9DhNUUwctFrkiJX-IPr_ZnrX3j4A/s200/2935695981_27509ac7e5.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Saturdays head to Woodstock for the flea market. Peruse old records, toys, clothes and jewelry while some kid tries his luck singing <b>Bob Dylan</b> tunes in the background. I found<b> Led Zeppelin I</b> and <b>Paul Simon</b>'s <b>Graceland</b> on vinyl for $3 each. Great bargain. <br />
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And of course, you can't beat the hiking. For some of the top-rated trails, click <a href="http://www.trails.com/city-trails.aspx?keyword=Woodstock&state=NY">here</a>.<br />
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I guarantee you'll come back to the city feeling relaxed and refreshed. And if you happen to dip into the town's favorite crop, I won't tell.Meg Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423390451781453672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381150631465248354.post-3594497027626985082010-03-14T08:27:00.001-07:002010-03-14T08:27:31.453-07:00In the Spirit of St. PaddySo we're coming up on <b>St. Patrick's Day</b> in a few days and in the spirit I thought I'd share some videos my good friend <b>Becca</b> recorded when we were in <b>Ireland</b> in 2006. Enjoy the craic! (That's Irish for "fun".)<br />
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This video was taken at the <b>Pikeman Bar</b> at the <a href="http://www.grandhoteltralee.com/"><b>Grand Hotel Tralee</b></a> in <b>Tralee</b>, <b>County Kerry</b>. Traditional music is very important to the Irish culture. Common instruments include fiddles, accordions, guitars and flutes (and/or tin whistles).<br />
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Now, I can't stand group tours, but the <a href="http://www.discoverdublin.ie/"><b>Musical Pub Crawl</b></a> in <b>Dublin</b> is surprisingly fun and not cheesy. Professional musicians guide you to several of Dublin's bars and entertain you with popular Irish tunes. Here we have our musicians playing "A Pair of Brown Eyes" by <b>The Pogues</b>. It's suggested that you have a drink at every bar, and this was our last stop. Thank goodness I have this video otherwise I'm not sure how much of this great performance I would remember.Meg Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423390451781453672noreply@blogger.com0