“Holy f*ck, it’s FREEZING.” – The Everywhereist

Last week, we were waiting in line at a huge, popular ice cream shop with a group of our friends. We all wore jackets. A few of us had scarves. We clustered together for warmth, joking that perhaps ice cream was not the best choice on such a chilly night.

This is August in San Francisco.

Rand and I have learned, thankfully without too much discomfort on our own parts, to check the weather report before leaving for any trip. In the case of San Francisco, we check it two or three times before our flight.

It was 95 degrees in Seattle on this same day.

Sometimes, it is out of incredulity.

When Rand and I saw the forecast for our last trip, we stared, blankly, at the screen.

“How,” I asked him, “How exactly can it be 50 degrees in August?”

But 50 degrees it was. At night, anyway. And with the strong wind coming off the bay, it felt even colder. Of course, it may simply have been the street we were on. In addition to shockingly cold summers (apparently October is when it really starts to get warm there, and I remember a few early springs that were quite toasty),  the city experiences a menagerie of microclimates: localized weather patterns that vary greatly from one another, despite being ridiculously close together.

The phenomenon isn’t unique to San Francisco, but seems to be a prime example of it.   The patchwork weather patterns are a result of the city’s rumpled landscape. Fog and cold winds from the bay beat against the hills, but never reach the valleys on the other side, which remain warm and sun-drenched (this is a huge over-simplification, but considering how terrible I am at geography, let’s call this a “win” for me, okay?).

Fog dissipates before our eyes in the Castro district.

-

The result? Dressing for San Francisco is an exercise in layering, a constant dance of removing sweaters and unzipping jackets. Sometimes, you wonder if it’s worth it, since the next block will bring something new all together. I’ve been known to freeze or roast through a few streets, because I can’t be bothered.

What’s worse is my resistance to believe that it’s actually going to be as cold as meteorologist and empirical evidence suggest. In the end, I find myself pulling together random layers. It is the logic behind this photo, which I initially posted yesterday:

Sigh. And I look so CONFIDENT, too, in my craziness.

-

When I realized that neither my fleece or my cropped jean jacket would be enough, I had to layer them. The result is … well, whatever. I was warm enough, thankfully, to go for a stroll with my husband through the city. And based on how many freezing tourists I see, wearing newly acquired San Francisco sweatshirts (purchased out of desperation, I’m sure), no one is going to judge.

So if you’re going to go, check the weather report. And bring layers. Many of them. Don’t be fooled by your preconceived notions of the city. The greatest trick San Francisco ever pulled was convincing the world it was part of California.

I hear you, babe.

-

A lovely people, indeed.

The French are also repsonsible for coining a term without which I would be seriously concerned for my mental well-being. But because the French have given something I experience on a near-daily basis a proper name I no longer feel alone in my crazy.

The term in question is jamais vu. It is French for ”never seen”, and refers to the phenomenom by which someone can go someplace very familiar, where they’ve been countless times, and see something entirely and wholey new, that they have never noticed before. (Fun Fact: deja vu is French for “already seen”. Go! Impress your friends with your vast knowledge.)

I cannot tell you how positively thrilled I was to learn that other people experience jamais vu. I was starting to worry that all the fun I had in college was catching up with me, because how else could I walk into my yoga studio, a place where I’ve been hundreds of times before, and not notice a DOOR RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FAR WALL.

I stared at it, blankly, trying to figure out if they had just installed it overnight (doubtful) or if I had just failed to notice it (infinitely more likely, but still … how did I miss it? I mean, it’s a friggin door.) In the end, I just passed it off as jamais vu, and felt instantly better (being French, even for a few moments, is glorious.)

And it was jamais vu that I experience in full-force when my friend Katie was in town a few weeks ago, and we wandered around Seattle Center. It’s a place I’ve been hundreds of times before, but in the company of friends seeing it for the first time, I, too, noticed things I had never seen before.

Like this ride at the Fun Forest, which had little kids shooting water to put out a fire. For some of the taller kids, the fire hoses were at waist-height, making for a hilarious scene:

It's funny, because it looks like they're PEEING.

-

Just as we passed by some of the rides, I was explaining to Katie and her friend Dalia that there were once carnival games that used to line one of the far walls of the Fun Forest when I was a kid. I just assumed, since I hadn’t seen them in a while, that they were gone. So, naturally, my jaw absolutely dropped when I saw them.

I swear, this permanent structure, apparently built circa 1980, was not there the last few times I visited.

-

I figured it was okay – I mean, how often do I go to the Fun Forest? It’s perfectly fine if I fail to notice something for a few decades, right? But the Space Needle and its surrouding areas? I knew them well. No surprises there.

Yeah. Like hell there weren’t.

In the shadow of the Space Needle, we encountered a ton of adorable statues and sculptures. Like, everywhere. I don’t know how I’ve missed them, since they are obviously not new. But without Katie, I’d have walked right by them for probably the hundredth time.

There was a little collection of animals with a lot of personality …

Pouty fish are pouty.

-

The flying piglet was so cute, we wanted to pick him up. Except that he was solid metal and bolted to the ground.

-

And there was a cluster of stone heads which we all got a kick out of …

-

-

-

Seeing all these things, seemingly for the very first time, after having passed by them at least a few dozen times, made me contemplative. It made me think of all the things I’ve missed, both at home and during my travels. I promised to keep my eyes open more, to be more observant and respectful of my surroundings. I vowed to appreciate the world around me and –

Um, yeah.

-

Err, scratch that. Maybe somethings are better left unseen.

Rob: Bob’s your uncle! Codswallup! Bangers and mash! BLAH BLAH BLAH HOGWARTS.

Me: I have no idea what you’re talking about. Speak American, please.

Rob: Ahem … Did you know that up until the 1950s or 60s, the U.K. had non-decimal money? So we’d have coins for seemingly random amounts.

Me: (open-handedly slapping Rob across the face) Don’t lie to me, boy.

I swear, it happened just like that. Except for the parts that didn’t. Anyway, the important part is that Rob claimed the U.K. had non-decimal currency. Meaning that the values of coins weren’t based on the pound being divided into 100 equal parts. Instead, he explained, the pound had been divided into 240 pence.

And honestly, I kind of dismissed it along with all the other crazy things Rob says about England.

I feel like I should apologize for this. I'm not going to, but I feel like I should.

“We drive on the other side of the road! Bell peppers are called capiscums! We have national healthcare, and the government hasn’t collapsed!”

Yeah, right.

So you can imagine my skepticism when I received this email from Rob…

I seemed to remember a little disbelief when I told you that the UK had non-decimal money up until the 1950s / ’60s.

I got clarification from my parents while they’re here:

The smallest unit – then as now – was a penny. (Though I’ll contradict this shortly.)

There were twelve pence in a shilling, and twenty shillings in a pound.

Therefore, a pound was 240 pence.

A shilling was often referred to as a ‘bob’, eg: people would refer to a ‘ten bob note’ (=10 shillings, half a pound, or 120 pence.)

We had a florin, which was two shillings, the coin looked like you American quarters (colloquially was called a two-bob-bit.)

We had a crown, which was a quarter of a pound, but what was much more popular was the half crown: this could be described as a an eighth of a pound, but was typically thought of as two shillings and sixpence.

We had a 6 pence coin (sixpence, though also called the tanner or half-shilling) and a 3 pence coin (threepence, but more often pronounced thrupence or threppeny-bit.)

The penny was also subdivided: we had a ha’penny coin (half a pence, we had this coin until 1984) and a farthing coin (quarter of a pence)

We also had the concept of a ‘guinea’ – which was 1 pound and one shilling (ie:21 shillings) it was used until relatively recently (still an important amount in horse racing), but we’ve not had a guinea coin for a while.

Finally, the nomenclature was to use the £ sign for pounds, s for shillings, and d for pence, so fifty bob, 3 and a half pence

would be written: £2.10s.3.1/2d

Here ends today’s lesson.

-
Naturally, upon reading this, I declared Rob full of crap and proceeded to slap a photo of him (as he was not nearby). But then I started doing a little research, and it would appear, as crazy as it sounds, that Rob might actually not be making this up. For years, the monetary system was outdated, and pounds were divided into 240 parts (before you start freaking out about how crazy that is, tell me how many feet are in a mile. Yeah, you have no idea, do you?) That changed on February 17, 1971, a.k.a. Decimal Day, when the monetary system switched from the old pence (worth 1/240th of a pound) to the new pence (worth 1/100th) of a pound. A few years prior, the first of the new coins made an appearance on the High Street, causing a lot of confusion, but fortunately very little rioting (The English are very polite. If this had happened in Texas, there would have been blood).

So, wow. Rob was right. He wasn’t just messing with us. I guess I can trust his postscript, too:

Did I mention that if you press the back of the 25p coin in the correct way, it plays a recorded message from the Queen of England?

Ah, the English. So like us humans, and yet, so different.

-

First off, a brief apology. I am sure that I have flipped off the vast majority of you in traffic. On more passive aggressive occasions, I may have intentionally picked my nose in the vicinity of your children, thereby affirming the belief that it’s not only okay and acceptable, but it’s fun! Enjoy trying to break them of that habit.

However, all of that is in the past (and by “past”, I mean, “foreseeable future”), because I’m here to give you a bit of HOLY-CATS-THAT’S-AWESOME advice. And it is as follows: Visit the Willamette Valley wineries in Oregon. Immediately.

Oh, hush: I do not CARE if you have other obligations to tend to in our fair city. The kids can drop themselves off at daycare for once (plus, you don’t want those little nose-pickers in your car anyway). And stop whining that you’re going to miss Great Uncle Lou’s last days: it’s called hospice for a reason. It’s because it’s hospitable. He’s not going to notice you’re gone: he thinks it’s 1943, anyway.

Besides: OREGON WINE COUNTRY IS AWESOME. Here are just a few reasons why.

1. It’s must closer to Seattle. I’m not going to lie: I suck at geography, and I don’t really know where Napa is. But I know that Oregon is, like, a MILLION times closer (no hyperbole).

Hee hee. It's on Uranus.

-

2. There’s no sales tax in Oregon. None. For people in Washington state, that’s like a 10 percent discount on everything.* The only downside is that most things purchased in Oregon are made of hemp. (*Of course, this is only true if you cheat on your taxes, failing to retroactively pay sales tax on all tax-free Oregon purchases come April. And I would never endorse defrauding the U.S. government in any way.)

This entire building was made from hemp. If you licked the paint on the walls, you got high (though according to my buzzkill hubby, it was just "lead poisoning.")

-

3. Matt and Kim live in Oregon. I know, I know – you probably don’t know who Matt and Kim are. But they’re awesome, and if you drove down to Oregon, your chances of meeting them increase by, like, a thousand percent.

Matt kind of looks like a hobbit in this photo, but they're still awesome.

-

4. Everything will be far less expensive than its California counterpart. Accommodations, restaurants, wine tastings, and even the wine itself is going to be way cheaper in Oregon than California. A few wineries even have picnic tables and recreational areas, so you can bring your own awesome selection of food. This either qualifies you as a connoisseur, or a hobo.

What? Hoboes can be foodies.

-

5. There are fewer crowds. My husband gets upset when I use the phrase, “It’s so crowded – it’s like the Black Hole of Calcutta at happy hour.” He’s says it’s offensive. So I’m not going to use that term. I’m simply going to say that attending a wine tasting in Napa will leave you more squished than an elevator ride at a Dom DeLuise look-alike convention.

RIP, Sweet Prince.

-

6. It’s gives you way more (yuppie) street-cred. Now that Napa has become mainstream for the upper-middle class, you’ll need to do more to impress your foie-eating friends. One the “hot” list for young urban professionals: scented oxygen appetizers, straddle buses, and Oregon wines.Yay!

Also on the list: playing frisbee golf while channeling Don Draper.

7. You can hang out in Portland. Again, I have no idea about geography, but I assume that Napa is in the middle of nowhere, and consequently a no-man’s land overrun by cannibals and mutants. Instead of isolating yourself in the California countryside with your friends (which, HELLO? – so the makings of a horror movie), you can chill in Portland (a city that lacks any major structural landmarks, making it immune to alien attacks). Yay!

This would never happen in Portland.

-

8. The weather is awesome. No, seriously. The Willamette Valley is not, like the rest of the Pacific northwest, reminiscent of swamp that was accidentally left in the universe’s refrigerator (what? I suck at analogies, too). During the summer, the days are sun-drenched and warm, and because we’re further north, they’re longer, too.

This was taken at 10pm.

-

There. That’s it. Eight perfectly good reasons to (temporarily) abandon all your responsibilities and drive down to Oregon. Just be sure to properly say good-bye to Uncle Lou. I don’t want that on my conscience.

Being active on Twitter is a must for any travel blogger. Not only does it give you a great network with which to connect to other travel bloggers and promote your own articles and links, but it actually makes your travels better, too. Check out my reasons for how Twitter can help you in all your travels …

1. Connect with other travel bloggers. The travel sphere is a tough one – there’s loads of people striving for the same goal (I mean, don’t we all want to be a cooler version of Rick Steves? A less-naughty version of Anthony Bourdain?), they’re incredibly active in the online space, and they’re often scattered across the country (or the world!).  But Twitter helps give you an “in”, even with prominent writers and bloggers – you can connect, network, and keep up to date on industry trends.
2. Be your own PR company. Okay, fine – so no one likes a blogger who continuously toots their own horn, but if you are creating great content, Twitter is a great way to let people know about it. Tweet your articles, posts, and photos to your followers – some folks might even retweet you, creating greater visibility for you and your work. Don’t forget to return the favor – retweet articles and follow people who you find interesting – it will increase your network and your Twitter karma.
3. Record your travels. I don’t always have a pen and paper handy, but thanks to Twitter, I don’t need either to create an online record of the places I’ve visited in a city. When I want to write a blog about my past trip, I can simply look at my Twitter stream from that time (”Ah, first I tweeted from the Whitney, then from that awesome sandwich shop around the corner from it”). It also keeps my Twitter stream active – and hopefully interesting, too.
   

   Via Quadronno - best sandwiches ever, around the corner from the Whitney.

   -

4. Get travel advice in real time. Let’s face it – some of us don’t plan ahead (points finger at self), neglect to bring guidebooks (yup), and don’t do enough research before going on trips (guilty). Or sometimes plans change last minute, and you find yourself without a gameplan. Thanks to Twitter, this doesn’t mean the end of the world. If you need some advice (whether it’s a suggestion for where to eat or what attractions to see), simply tweet to your followers, asking for help. Odds are someone will have some great suggestions in no time.
   

   The magic that is Coop's Place in NOLA - we found out about this place after Tweeting our location and requesting suggestions.

   -

5. Don’t skimp on the hash tags. Not only are hash tags great for archiving (if you remember to tag relevant tweets, you won’t need to go through your entire stream looking for them) but they’re also handy when doing research for future trips/current trips. Heading to Seattle? Check out #Seattle to see what’s going on locally. Off to do some hiking? Find out what other folks are saying about that specific trail.
6. Plan future trips. If you’re heading to a specific location, start following local Tweeps a few weeks before your trip (note: I love @LDN so much, I started following them before a UK trip, and never stopped). You’ll be able to get insider information, make plans, and might even find out about discounts and special events that would have been hard to uncover otherwise.
7. Get up-to-date news, straight from the source. Because Twitter can be updated instantly, it often has information you won’t find anywhere else. Once, my hubby and I wanted to take a day trip to Mt. Rainier, but we weren’t sure which (if any) of the visitors’ centers were open. Their website didn’t reveal any information, nor did the local newspapers. So Rand tweeted to the visitors’ center itself, and we promptly received a reply: it was open, and the weather was great. We headed straight over.
   

   Turns out the Visitor's Center was right - it was a beautiful day to head up. And I still follow @VisitMtRainier a year later.

   -

8. Be Spontaneous. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen Tweets capturing the emphera of a city: “Free ice cream at 5th and Pine! Hurry up and get here!” or “Flash mob meeting at Westlake in 5 minutes. Hurry!”. These are the sort of here-one-minute gone-the-next events that one usually only happens on by chance (like the time I was sitting in traffic, starving. A chef stepped out of a local pizzeria, and started handing slices to people sitting in their cars, including me. It was magic). Thanks to Twitter, though, we have a constant news ticker of awesomeness on which to pounce.
9. Get exclusive deals and discounts. More and more business are becoming aware of the power of Twitter – and many of them are seizing on the opportunity by offering exclusive deals and discounts. The Hotel Max in Seattle offers free wi-fi and a 15% discount to anyone following them on Twitter. Do a search for deals in your area (or wherever you’re headed) and you’ll be surprised by the number of legitimate, non-spammy deals out there.
10. Meet up with friends – in real life! As crazy as it sounds, this was one of the original intended purposes of Twitter: to easily tell people where we were, so that,  if they were in the same spot, we could possibly meet up. And while I rarely use Twitter in this matter, it does work amazing well. I recently thinking about skipping an event, but a quick glance at my Twitter stream revealed quite a few other people I knew were going to be there. I had to go (I couldn’t miss out on seeing so many cool people) – and I’m glad I did.

How do you use Twitter? What unique travel experiences do you owe to that indispensable site?

P.S. – Encourage travel awesomeness: Follow me on Twitter here!

My mother, true to her specific brand of crazy, freaked out. She went apeshit. And, long story short, the evening ended with my brother meeting some lovely friends for dinner, and then returning home to find several messages on his phone from the LAPD, who believed him to be dead or missing.

Sigh.

My brother turned out to be fine. My mother continues to be paranoid.

At the time, though, I think her crazy made a little more sense. It was 1994: the internet was new and scary. Now, meeting people from the online realm doesn’t seem to hold the same dangers it did (or at least, the dangers my mother thought it did). Recently, I hung out with Mike Perron of PerronBrothers.com. I am pleased to say that he was not at all creepy, and that no parties involved were skinned and turned into dresses, despite repeated jokes of that nature.

Also, it's weird that Mike's cousin and I are wearing the same outfit.

-

It was the first time I’ve met Mike in real life, though we’ve chatted via Twitter several times. Despite being from Oregon, he seemed pretty cool, as did his cousin. However, since he could have been an axe-wielding maniac (or, from his perspective, I could have been one), it’s always good to exercise a little caution. So, in a post that would sort of make my mother proud – though she’d still be convinced of my impeding murder – I’ve wrapped up my top 10 tips for having a safe and productive real-life meeting with your online friends.

1. Meet someplace public. Mike suggested a local restaurant, which was smart on lots of levels. Even if you “know” someone online, a stranger is still a stranger – you don’t want to go to their house and get into their car. Public places afford a level of safety and comfort for everyone.
2. Bring a friend. Mike brought his cousin, who was lovely, and reminded me of a young Larry Kubiac. I brought my husband (who Mike smartly invited, as a preemptive move against creepiness) and I was joined by two friends of mine from middle school. I figured we were pretty evenly matched, since Mike’s cousin looked about as strong as three women. The point is? Always bring a friend, because usually people don’t get murdered in pairs.
3. Don’t be creepy. As I said before, Mike invited Rand, which was obviously a cool move, and showed he was considerate enough to not even want to give the impression of creepiness. I also told Rand to not make swingers/abortion/gun control jokes. He almost didn’t.
4. Listen to your gut. If someone seems creepy online, and they’ve asked to meet you in person, you can say no. Don’t worry about offending someone – they don’t know you, and you don’t know them, so odds are they won’t take it personally. And if they do? Well, that’s kind of weird in and of itself.
5. Do some research. If you’re meeting someone for the first time, find out a little bit about them beforehand. Not only will this help you weed-out the weirdos (“Oh, look – he makes hair dolls. I won’t be emailing him back.”), it will also give you something to talk about (“So, I understand you make hair dolls! Me too!”). And knowing that someone cares enough to do a little bit of research (you don’t want to overdo it) is flattering and can make you feel important.
6. Be wary about what you talk about. This one applies more to business bloggers than personal ones, but it’s a great piece of advice. In the online world, we’re used to the idea that everyone will see what we’ve written – and we may be quoted, retweeted, and linked to. If we meet an online acquaintance in real life, odds are, they’re going to play by the same rules – i.e., they’ll feel free to quote you on whatever you say. Keep this in mind, and only talk about things that you’d be comfortable being repeated. This is why I can freely mention that Mike sang “Total Eclipse of the Heart” at karaoke the night before we met him … while channeling Elmer Fudd. (”Turn awound …“)
7. Bring up where you’ve mentioned them. Rand always likes to tell people when or where he’s linked to them or retweeted them. It shows that you actually care about what someone has to say, and it opens up the door for reciprocity – I love it when networking actually works.
   
8. Have an escape route. It’s always good to have something (real or fictional) planned for later, should you need to duck out early. If your online friends turn out to have an unhealthy fascination with Charles Manson, skin bunnies in their free time, or, worse still, think Titanic was a good movie, you will have a legitimate excuse for not being able to join them (“Sorry I can’t make it to the Celine Dion cover band show, guys. I’m having a hysterectomy tonight.”)
9. Don’t try to figure out how you know eachother. Seriously. Mike asked me this, and it seemed really creepy for me to respond, “I follow very few people, but I happen to find you hilarious, so I randomly started following you … now give me your fingernails.”
10. At a huge tweet-up? Bring a card. If you are going to a big networking event, bring business cards with you. Bonus if they have your photo on them, or if they resemble your blog in design, so people will be able to connect you with your online persona. Don’t do this if you are running from the law.

And for the record, I would totally hang out with Moon Vest in real life …

-

All of the content to follow is Mindy’s, all typos and formatting errors are mine.

—————

Dear Everywhereist Reader(s),

It’s my lucky day! Geraldine asked me back to talk about books again. But this time, we’ll gear the discussion toward the frequent flyer. You’re lucky, too! Nancy Pearl, the rock star of the library world, has already detailed her ideas of what makes for a great “carry-on book.” (Shut up. Do you have an action figure in your likeness? I didn’t think so.)

To sum: a good plane trip book has to be deep enough to draw you in and distract you for a good, long while. But it can’t be so freaking complex that you can’t set it down to let your neighbor use the loo. And it has to be compelling enough to hold you rapt, in the unlikely event you’re being harassed by fellow passengers and airline employees for your crazy leftist politics.  (Good job on the Swedish thriller, Geraldine. That’s the perfect airplane pick: plot-heavy, fascinating characters, crisp, clear prose.)

Sometimes I think there is nothing better than a good Law and Order marathon, I am still willing to admit that there is a time and a place for great works of literature (G.W.O.L.). The airplane, my friends, is not that time. Heading to Dublin? Struggle through Joyce in the privacy of your own home. Try Benjamin Black or Tana French for that atmospheric Irish in-flight entertainment instead.

Speaking of French, do not be tempted to peruse Proust on your way to Paris. May I be honest with you? It doesn’t make you look smart. It makes you look annoying and pretentious. And if you try reading Remembrances of Things Past next to Geraldine on a flight, she will be obligated to write a “Dick Move” about you. And we wouldn’t want that, would we?

Instead, may I suggest my favorite airplane read of the past year:  Hunting and Gathering by Anna Gavalda? Or perhaps the latest book club darling The Elegance of the Hedgehog?  Or mayhaps Irene Nemirovsky’s posthumously published World War II story Suite Française. Or…you get the picture.

At the wacky Centre Pompidou in Paris. (Bonus: there's a library in there!)

-

Among my greatest reading regrets: attempting The Things They Carried and Gilead at cruising altitude. These modern G.W.O.L. will be forever lost on me. (”Blah blah blah…war sucks…Blah blah blah…pithy end-of-life reflections…Blah blah blah.”) As soon as you’ve been frisked by the TSA, you need to set your literati pride aside and remember that you are not too good for Stephen King or Jodi Picoult.

Speaking of Jodi Picoult, you know you’ve picked an airplane winner when the flight attendant tells you it’s her favorite book, and asks you to let her know when you’re done so you can talk about it. Such was the case with My Sister’s Keeper. I was en route to a funeral in South Dakota, so I just blamed my tears on the dearly departed instead of the family drama unfolding at 30,000 feet. You can do the same thing!

(At the Bodleian Library in Oxford. I read Empire Falls on the plane. I would have finished it on the return flight if it weren’t for this damn movie.)

-

Genre fiction and a lot of non-fiction categories often work well for airplane travel. (A caveat: if you’re even slightly anxiety prone, avoid books about disasters, even those with happy ends. Say no to Captain Sully’s autobiography. Say yes to Captain Underpants.)

While you’re driving, graphic novels are a big no-no. Trust me! But they are another great choice for the plane.

Chicks dig comic books, guys!

-

They’re fun, they’re fast, engaging, and they have pretty pictures. And they’re not just for kids anymore. I have it on good word that Geraldine loves V for Vendetta. I’m more of a Persepolis gal myself.

Rand only had eyes for a certain blue-haired gal, much to the chagrin of a certain green-eyed girl.

-

Anyhoo, when in doubt, let the words on the book covers help guide your selection.

Keywords to look for:

Zombies

Adventure

Suspense

Thriller

Vampires

Fast-paced

Stephen King

Vampire Zombies

Couldn’t Put It Down

-

Keywords to avoid:

Lyrical

Elegiac

Proustian

Dry

Meandering

Soporific

Nobel Prize Winner

Outrageous plane disasters

Classic

-

There is only one book on this shelf I'd recommend to friends

-

Finally, I also recommend you always travel with one or two crowd-pleasing magazines on planes. Why? It’s nice to have some short, pretty pieces to flip through while waiting at the gate and during take-off and landing, when it’s harder to concentrate. I always find when I can’t silence the chatty Kathy next to me with my icy Seattle glare, People can usually do the trick.

When it comes to airplane reading, remember, the sky’s the limit!

-

Ever sincerely yours,

Mindy

-

Mindy Van Wingen is a librarian, avid reader, and of above average height, for a girl.

]]> http://www.everywhereist.com/because-the-tsa-wont-ban-reading-until-someone-makes-a-book-bomb/feed/ 6 http://www.everywhereist.com/the-12-items-of-clothing-i-always-pack/ http://www.everywhereist.com/the-12-items-of-clothing-i-always-pack/#comments Thu, 13 May 2010 21:49:58 +0000 Everywhereist http://www.everywhereist.com/?p=1699 Someone recently asked me for some tips on fun, travel-worthy outfits to wear on planes. That incredibly elusive combination of stylish and comfortable. And I won’t lie: that is a very, very difficult balance to achieve, but I’d like to think that maybe, just maybe, I’m on my way there.

I’ll tell you now – I’m absolutely no good at coming up with outfits that would work for everyone, especially since so many of you gals out there insist on wearing skinny jeans. I can not wear those. My hips were designed by some miserable higher power with one thing, and one thing only in mind: to ensure that I will never be able to wear skinny jeans (I bet you thought I was going to say childbirth, huh? Don’t be stupid). BUT, I am great at coming up with lists, and picking out some great pieces that will help you put together stellar outfits. They’re perfect to wear on a plane, and are great must-haves for any trip you take. In fact, I can’t remember when I left home without most of these items securely packed into my suitcase.

So I sincerely hope this list helps all of you. Even those of you who can wear skinny jeans. Sigh. Like you need any help.

1. The little black dress. Yes, yes, it’s ubiquitous, but it is so for a reason – because it’s absolutely perfect for any occasion.  Pair it with sandals for a walk along on the beach. Add a pair of fun heels and wild jewelry for a night out. Or simply pair with a blazer for a professional event (I’m speculating here. I’m unemployed, remember?).
   -
   Where to buy: Anywhere. Really. You probably have six of these already in your closet.
   -
   

   These two lovely ladies were at my wedding (the one on the right is my doppleganger, I know).

   -

2. The pencil skirt. The most essential and completely underrated piece of clothing in any woman’s closet. Seriously, what other item of clothing is so damn versatile (you can dress it up or down, just based on your shoes and choice of a top), and makes you feel a little bit like Joan Holloway (nee Harris) when you wear it? American Apparel actually makes a version out of jersey material, and it’s brilliant: the fold-over waist transforms it from knee-length to just above, so you essentially have two skirts in one (provided you can afford to have two-layers of fabric covering your waist. Which I’ve just decided, I cannot). Be warned, though, AA’s sizes are completely heinous. I wear a size Large or Extra-Large in their clothing. And I’m a size 6 (on a bad day). WTF.
   -
   Where to buy: American Apparel. And that’s the only thing you should get there.
   -
   

   This is the LEAST whorish photo I could find. Thanks, American Apparel!

   -

3. The statement jacket. I recently had a revelation. A stupid, obvious, life-changing revelation. If I simply swapped my dingy old hoodie with a tailored little jacket, I looked instantly more dressed up. And I was essentially just as comfortable. Plus, the jacket proved more versatile over the course of my trip (I could wear it over dresses, with skirts, and over jeans without looking like a hobo or an over-aged college student). It has, sincerely, changed my entire life. Which may either be very inspiring, or very depressing. Either way, I look better.
   -
   Where to buy: Nordstrom, Anthropologie, or your local thrift store (seriously).
   -
   

   Want.

   -

4. The dark jean. My husband will frequently ask me where my pants have ended up. Because where as most people like to take off their shoes to get comfortable, I like to take off my pants. Fortunately, I have learned that this is not entirely acceptable behavior around guests, and manage to keep my trousers on until after they leave. Why am I bringing this up? Because jeans are more comfortable than pants. And if you get a dark wash with a slight bootcut, they will look nearly as professional and polished as trousers, with less of a chance that you’ll tear them off mid-flight.
   -
   Where to buy: Anywhere. Just go for dark, solid washes with no weird lightening.
   -
   

   If you are endowed with a wide fundament, like myself, I suggest Pine IVs. They make your ass look like a peach.

   -

5. The cardigan. I don’t know why it took me forever to warm up to the idea of cardigans. Perhaps because I immediately associated them with sweater sets (which, let’s be fair, are totally unholy), I shunned them for years. But cardigans are brilliant – elegant, flattering, and they can be worn more than once – a  necessary quality for something taking up space in my suitcase. Layer one under a jacket for added warmth (because planes are freezing and weather reports LIE).
   -
   Where to Buy: Anywhere. Ann Taylor Loft and Old Navy have some great inexpensive options, if you’re stumped.
   -
   

   My gorgeous Auntie P. shows how great a cardigan can look.

   -

6. The dressy sneaker. It is hard for me let go of my Converse, and I suspect I’ll never truly say good-bye (somewhere is my closet is a pair I’ve had since the 7th grade. I intend to be buried in them). But alas, sometimes you need to dress things up – just a weensy bit. And frankly, Converse (and sneakers in general) can’t do double-duty – wear them with anything but jeans, and you’ll look like someone stole your luggage. Enter: the dressy sneaker. Comfortable enough to wear all day, and dressy enough that you can wear them with nice trousers and a jacket without looking like you suffered an ankle injury … or head trauma.
   -
   Where to Buy: Check out the selection of Clarks or Ecco at Zappos.com.
   -
   

   I am so cheating on my Converse with this pair.

   -

7. The cowboy boot. Am I insane for even suggesting something as trendy as this? Perhaps. A little bit. But hear me on this: cowboy boots are brilliant. I usually wear mine on flights, so they don’t crowd my suitcase (and they slide right off when I’m going through security). They can be paired with all manner of dresses (from summer to cocktail) and the heel is usually low enough that you can actually walk in them. Plus, they fit perfectly under boot-cut jeans (hence the name). Or, for you miserable lot who can wear them, cowboy boots can fit over your skinny jeans. There. Don’t say I never gave you nothing.
   -
   Where to Buy: I got mine from Nordstrom Rack (they’re made by Frye). Check discount stores that now summer is approaching – you might find some deals.
   -
   

   I found these at the Rack in a hideous color for 60% off. So I dyed them to something akin to the picture.

   -

8. The colorful flat. A co-worker once said that she started wearing flats after she saw me do it. Before then, she considered them too casual. This will forever be a point of pride for me – that I was able to change someone’s opinion about a whole style of shoe. And with good reason, because flats are awesome. They’re exceeding comfortable, which is important when you need to do a lot of walking in a new city. They slip right off, which is great in the security line. And they add a bit of life to any plain outfit – especially when you pick a pair with some color.
   -
   Where to Buy: I like Biviel, Gentle Souls, and Sofft. And like I noted above, I’m a Zappos loyalist.
   -
   

   Hello, lover.

   -
   

9. The holy-crap-that’s-awesome blouse. Let’s face it: historically, blouses have sucked. Even the word, “blouse,” is pretty lame. It rhymes with mouse.  And it brings to mind over-sized floral disasters that your friend’s mom wore in middle school (before she had that mid-life crisis and started dressing like a slut. Which was awesome for your friend, because after said crisis, she got to borrow mom’s clothes). But recently, I’ve noticed a new wave of blouses that are, frankly, awesome. Flattering styles (like empire-waists, ruched, or wrap-arounds that look great on everyone), bright colors (so they go with any basics you’ve got in your bag), and versatile enough to wear with shorts, pants, jeans, or skirts.
   -
   Where to Buy: Basically anywhere. But I’m a sucker for Anthropologie.
   -
   

   Pro: It's adorable. Con: It's expensive. Conclusion? My love-hate relationship with Anthropologie goes on.

   -

10. The who-cares-what-else-you’re-wearing jewelry. I am a magpie. If it’s shiny, I fluttered right over to it. I can’t help it. I love jewelry. Inexpensive, huge, colorful jewelry. It’s my $18 a month habit. I need help. But let’s face it: accessories make an otherwise boring outfit amazing. A plain t-shirt and jeans suddenly becomes a statement. And they take up virtually no room in your suitcase. So if you’re prone to overpacking, start with your jewelry roll.
    -
    Where to Buy: You don’t own any already?! Sigh. Forever 21 and H&M have loads to chose from, and it’s all stupid-cheap.
    -
    

    We ladies know how to accessorize.

    -

11. The wrap. Or the shawl. Or the pashmina. Whatever you want to call it, big, thin, wrap-them-three-times-around-your-neck scarves are awesome. They brighten up any outfit while actually serving a purpose – they keep you warm. Drape one over your shoulders with a summer dress. Place it over your eyes to block out light on a red-eye flight. Or toss one dramatically around your neck and make tasteless jokes about Isadora Duncan (I do this often. I am going to hell.) Rarely has something so inexpensive been so damn useful.
    -
    Where to Buy: Anywhere. Street vendors seem fond of carrying these, and with good reason. Oh, and now Old Navy has a pretty good selection, but I usually wait until their on sale. More than $6 for a scarf is too much.
    -
    

    My dear friend Lisa and I in our scarves.

    
    -

12. The over-sized handbag. On our last trip, a friend of mine stared blankly at my bag. “That,” she said, “cannot be your purse. What is that?” Clearly, my huge shoulder bag had her reeling. But when I travel, it’s a must. I can fit everything I need – water, snacks, a camera, my phone, and a dozen other things that I absolutely will not leave home without. Pick something rugged that sits well on your shoulder (and switch arms so that you don’t kill your back). A zippered top and a cross body strap (to deter theives) are musts for me. A slash-proof strap is a bonus.
    -
    Where to Buy: I love discount stores, because frankly, I don’t really see bags as “seasonal” anyway. Try T.J. Maxx or Ross for huge selection and good deals. If theft-proof is a must, check out Pacsafe’s line of bags (but unfortunately, I don’t find them that cute).
    -
    

    Me and Auntie P. show off our cross-body bags - these are small by my standards.

    -

So that’s it – the contents of my suitcase – and sartorial soul – laid bare. Ideas on what to wear on flights, what to pack in your bag, and what to buy.

Now, if you’ll please excuse me, I have to go shopping.

Last month, I took a few jabs at the expense of the city of Rye Brook, NY. I know, I know – shocking, right? That I would take the piss out of a town? Absolutely unbelievable.

But it indeed happen. I blame demonic possession. As a result, I might have mentioned that Rye Brook’s food scene is the culinary equivalent of a trying to find a date for prom: there’s no real viable options, and if you end up with anything, it’s just because you wanted to dress up and go out.

Reader Raf C took issue with my position, and maintained that there were some viable options in Rye Brook. He recommended a few spots, including Polla a la Brasa, a Peruvian restaurant in nearby Port Chester. Since it ended up being ridiculously close to the hotel, we decided to stop by.

We ordered according to the New York Times’ suggestion: their eponymous rotisserie chicken dish, lomo saltado (beef stir-fry over french fries), a slice of tres leches cake, and an alfajor cookie.

There are many words that I could use to describe the meal at hand, but the best one that comes to mind is this: ZOMG.

Yes, ZOMG, indeed.

I have to hand it to Raf – his recommendation was fantastic, and the place was so obscure that there was no way we’d have found it on our own (I highly doubt we’d have encountered the NYT article on our own. There’s absolutely no mention of the town of Rye Brook in the review, even though it’s just down the street, so a search would have rendered nothing).

Rand tries some chicken. I don't know why it looks like he's concentrating so hard, but I think it's cute.

-

This is the lomo saltado. Rand described it as “Peruvian poutine.” He now craves it fortnightly. This will be our undoing. And also, it will be the undoing of the top button of our pants.

Rand expressed a desire to learn how to make this. I quashed that idea as best I could, because I want to still fit into some of my clothes.

-

The incredibly cool and moist tres leches cake, which was not unlike a coffee-less tiramisu, and the alfajor cookie. The cookie was unreal: two light, crumbly shortbread cookies that were just perfect – not too sweet or dense – with a layer of caramelly dulce-the-leche in between, and dusted with powered sugar. We also ordered one for the road, which I think we ate before we got to the car.

-

I think the final bill came to about $20.

Of course, none of it would have been possible without a suggestion from reader. And the suggestion probably wouldn’t have been provided had I not trashed on his hometown in the first place. I’m sure you see where I’m going with this. Basically, whatever filter I once may have had, I’ve completely thrown it to the wind in hopes of being led to more dessert. I’m sure living with me from now on will be excruciating.

The point is, my blog actually served a rather amazing and pragmatic purpose, and I’m thrilled about it. So, please, please, please, keep sending in your suggestions and recommendations. I love hearing them even more than I like complaining about a place. And believe me, that’s a lot.

Now, excuse me while I do a somewhat desperate raid of my pantry in hopes of finding something akin to that last photo.

But first, a little bit of self-promotion. I recently wrote an article for cozi.com about digital photo archiving, and it’s worth a gander, especially if you take a lot of photos. Basically, I took apart Real Simple’s advice on storing images (they suggest taking them all off your hard-drive and -GASP- burning them onto a CD. Which is a recipe for disaster). Naturally, since I keep all of my photos in several locations – both on my hard-drive and on a Flickr account – I figured I was safe. I didn’t consider that there could be problems with the memory card inside of my camera that could be causing me problems. But low and behold, there were problems. Serious ones. When I went through my pictures from the last few trips, I found saw this:

Damn it.

-

See all those little white icons with the paintbrushes on them? Every single one of those is an unreadable file. At the point, I can’t quite figure out if they’re just old files that I’ve already uploaded (that weren’t quite deleted off the memory card) or if they actually are new photos that were corruptd. I suspect it’s the latter, as I can’t find a few pictures that I know I took. The whole thing is heart-breaking, and I’m trying to pretend that it didn’t really happen.

It looks like it’s a common occurrence, though. There’s plenty of online forums that address the issue, and a few sites let you download software that will hopefully help you read your corrupt files. Most of the answers I saw were that you need to reformat your card in your camera, which can be done easily from the Menu page of your camera’s settings. Of course, I did so, but it was too late.

So I’m passing on this info to all of you. It seems like an important thing to know: always reformat your memory camera in your camera.