More Travel!

THE OTHER TRAVEL POST

Prequel - Hampton Thanksgiving

Every year at Hampton house we do a thanksgiving for close friends of us all before the diaspora to the various homelands of each participant, such as New Jersey, California, and Mars, which is the origin of the Turkish Invasion. This year was just as good as the last, and I believe you have already see the invitation in a neutered form:

Now imagine it in 36" x 65" poster form immediately behind the dining table, and you will get a feel for the mood of the event. According to the spies that I had infiltrate each conversation cell, the event went swimmingly and people were entertained. Here, feast your eyes on this:

A decent representation of thanksgiving turkeys pre-slaughter

The accoutrement for the turkey

The main event. Look at that pro as hell turkey breast carving.

Everybody played a part in making the food, and the collaboration payed dividends. From Pirogi to sweet potatoes, we truly ate like kings. And drank like kings. And got Cruuuuunk like kings.

Part 2 - San Fransisco 11/24 - 11/29

This will be a shorter post than the first one simply because I don't have as many pictures and I'm lazy. The trip started out with a ride to the airport (props to Sarp) with my dear friends Baris and Nazli:

Sup.

As well as some random freeloader I met on craigslist:

Probably Canadian. Props on the hat, though. Rawr.

The flight was uncomfortable as always, and when we all arrived in SF together, we temporarily parted ways, with Adrienne and I going to my Dad's and Nazli and Baris going off with their friends. Thus began the chronicles of Dad's house.

Honestly, with all the craziness that has occured there and the fact that this blog is an open forum, I'm going to assume that some of you know what is going on and I don't need to further explain. Also, I'm sure you know how I feel about it. What does need to be said is that the situation wasn't as dire and I was expecting and I was still fully capable of enjoying myself. Thanksgiving day was awesome and the food was once again fantastic. I would have liked to have stayed over longer and with a few more cocktails, but alas, I think the rolling stones commented on this situation rather well.

The next few days were well spent with Adrienne and I exploring various stomping grounds and generally entertaining ourselves with the mere act of being on hallowed earth. There were some obvious things to be done: Go to union square and heckle the performers while waiting for the stupid tree to be lit for an hour, enduring the bitter cold and a bloody nose whilst befriending random asian fathers possessing biting senses of humor and iron-fisted control over their broods, concurrently fighting back the urge to go on a consumerism-induced killing spree using only raindeer entrails and weaponized sleigh bells to reign terror down on an unsuspecting populace (not even sparing the children). Also, bread bowls with clam chowder and wine and cheese at the ferry building.

Almost as good as murder.

We also did a Berkeley visit and met with Chirz and Sarah for ramen, which is still sorely lacking from the Atlanta food scene despite my fervent protests to the mayor and the president of ramen. Adrienne waxed poetic about how much she misses the band and then we got on with our lives and thus ended the dangers of nostalgia. That night we met up with our Turkish friends once more for a comedy show at one of our favorite venues, the Punchline in the Embarcadero. It was a pretty funny show in a I-was-permanently-amused-but-not-totally-gut-rolled way, and I definitely appreciated the last comic, Ron Shock. Check out his 900 foot tall Jesus story. It's super good.

On Sunday, I visited Sam and spent a few hours watching him make lattes for people and regretting picking my only visiting hours as his work hours. At least we found out whose fault it was that we hadn't finished our Carcassonne game for about a month. Suck it. Also, Sam's roommate John is a cool frood. I can't wait for the day when I can live amongst my best friends once more.

The trip concluded with a terrible terrible red eye flight back to Atlanta, made somewhat bearable by two tablets of some drug whose name I can't remember and the resulting hours of fever dreams.

Summary - Excellent trip.

And now, Leo.

-Dt

Song of the Day

Sometimes annoying daily emails reap benefits:

http://rcrdlbl.com/artists/Sun_Airway/track/Oh_Naoko_Houses_Remix?sms_ss=google&at_xt=4cf5505bde29a775,0

Travel!

First things first: Head on over to http://sheclearlyhasaproblem.blogspot.com/2010/11/everyone-else-is-doing-it.html to see some rad shots of my brother's wedding. Which reminds me that I haven't chronicled my trip to LA yet. Shit.

THE TRAVEL POST

Part 1 - Los Angeles 11/11 - 11/17

My first order of business in LA (other than eating at Dinah's with my mom. Winner winner, chicken dinner) was to see Nosaj Thing and Toro y Moi in concert at the El Ray. I hate to say it, but Nosaj is starting to lose me; he needs to be more prolific because every show is starting to sound the same. I have seen him a few times now, and there hasn't really been any sort of new creative direction at all. Don't get me wrong, Drift was a great album. But it was a great album in the ancient history of music that is a year ago. Get pumping sir, or I will blog negatively about you. That being said, it was still awesome because I got to go with Sara and Dylan, a single night with whom has yet to be dull.

The next night began the wedding festivities for Jamie and Michelle, the real reason I came out to the best coast. The rehearsal dinner was held at BJ's (you can try making a joke here, but I've already made them all so don't tell me) and consisted of seeing people I hadn't seen in years and eating tons of deep dish pizza. I know right? Awesome. Here is the lucky couple:

Sup.

Hoorj!

I don't have many pictures of the next day, because I was too damn drunk to remember to take them, but I do have one shot from early on in the night that is incontrovertible proof that The only way an asian jew can exist is from an alien race

The fake Michelle is beamed into place.

Sorry Jamie, your wife is a body-snatcher.

Really, the wedding was awesome. So many of the Strowbridges have been a mystery to me as of late because I never really get a chance to hang out at those huge family gatherings we once had. Hopefully I can be mature enough to keep up the re-established contact that I got to make. And Mike is still the funniest guy I know.

The following days I just spent hanging around LA with Mom and Sara and wondering what my life would have been like in high school if I had gotten out more and decided to see the downtown area. There is so much to do that I have only recently discovered in the last few years, and it makes me pine for a time portal so I could relive that whole period with this new perspective. If that isn't the single most wished for thing in all of history...

Anyways, that brings me to my time with Dave. For all of you (all five of my readers) that don't know, Dave is getting his masters in ceramics at UCLA. Because Dave was so gracious as to visit me in ATL on his road trip (see earlier post), I figured I would return the favor and wear down his hospitality in Culver City. Say hello, Dave:

Nice wood.

My stay with Dave was awesome. We checked out a few coffee shops and had delicious Orochan ramen, which is basically my favorite thing, second to Tito's tacos, which we also had. I was actually kinda worried that Tito's would be a thing that I loved as a kid that didn't really stack up, especially because I pumped it up to Dave so much. This did not happen. Tito's is still awesome. But back to adventures. First, I wanted to comment on Dave's work, which has an Escher's Drawing Hands feel to it:

Hands.

At least this piece feels that way. The rest of it is different, but also still in the works. I can't wait to see what he comes up with next. Dave's style is appealing to me... I'm an admirer of installation pieces and large studio art. We have often talked about a collaboration where I do some technical stuff, perhaps a moving piece, and I would like that very much. I like to think I have an artistic streak, if mecha turkeys count.

One of the first things I saw when I went to Dave's art space wasn't his art, however. It was a crazy building with an ugly facade, a scaffold where cacti grew while suspended in air, and this mountain with tons of steps:

A metaphor for self-realization.

It needed climbing. Badly. There is actually this pretty rad little exhibit at the top talking about the Baldwin hill conservation project and some such, but really it's just an elaborate place for bums to sleep. A really nicely designed place for bums to sleep. I forgot to get a picture (which is actually a common thread of this trip. Oops).

I have to say that my three favorite parts of the stay with Dave, however, had to be meeting with his Dad, The quest for Drambouie, and the Jameson event. Let us proceed.

Part 1(a) - Father's Office

Dave and I met up with John at this awesome bar called Father's Office, which is an expensive place to get beers and burgers and exotic tapas. The saving grace is that you get what you pay for. They had a truly impressive selection of beers on tap, including Russian River's Pliny the Elder and the infamous Lagunitas Gnarlywine. There was the looming threat of Vertical Epic, but we decided to have some from Dave's bombers of it at home instead. Rumor has it that this is the spot for the best burger in LA, and I have to say that it was pretty damn good. It was no Holman and Finch, but it really hit the spot and was worth all the money we payed for it. We also tried the bone marrow, which seems to be one of my new personal favorites, and it was truly top notch. Where some like to really make the marrow into something other than meat butter, Father's office kept it simple and the result was fucking incredible. I give Father's Office and A for sure and and A+ for the company.

Part 1(b) - Rye Whiskey no es bueno

Later that same night we went in search of a new-ish bar that Dave was curious to try out. The inside was all wood decor and felt like a western version of the Tiki room at Disneyland. For the life of me I can't remember what it was called, but let's call it the Wood Bar. Haha, wood bar. They had a cocktail that had a silly name, was on special, and, having just finished off the required PBR, I figured it was worth a shot. Basically it was rye whiskey, some lemon zest, and a bit of magic. Too bad they used the shitty magic, because it tasted like fermented suck. Dave claimed it was good and further claimed that it tasted just like Drambuie, which I had never heard of. Neither had Dave's roommates Hank and other Dave, and we assumed Dave was just being drunk. That didn't stop us from going into every liquor store on the way home and belligerently insisting that not only did the drink exist, but they should have it. I'm pretty sure we almost got into a fight with the Romanian mafia, but we escaped with our lives. Lo and behold, it did exists, and we purchased some the next morning at Trader Joe's of all places. Dave was right, it was very similar (except they exchanged the shitty magic with good magic). We felt like the Hardy Boys after solving the case of the missing Drambuie.

case solved

Part 1(c) - Are those painted shirt boobs?

The final night I stayed with Dave we saw a giant inflatable bottle of Jameson at a bar as well as a huge crowd, so we marshaled the forces and checked it out. Sure enough, it was a corporate Jameson party for bartenders and we weren't on the list. After a few of us (you know who you are) lost motivation and retired for the night after a string of humiliating bar-entrance defeats, Dave and I managed to get our hands on some passes from exiting bartender patrons. Three things became apparent:

1. There were people walking around with painted jameson shirts on, which means they were walking around naked.

2. Free open bar jameson drinks.

3. Free tasting of top shelf jameson brands.

Now I'm not a big Jameson drinker, but for free I will drink anything they make with reckless abandon, and drink I did. The top shelf stuff was cool (and the lady who was serving us had a sweet irish accent), but the ginger and jameson did me the most good (bad?), and before I could begin to take pictures (again with the sucking at photographing) we were lights on, out of the bar, and back to Dave's place to solve all of the worlds problems through conversation on his roof top. Four hours of sleep and a hangover later, I was on a plane back to ATL.

That's it for the LA adventures, and I realize this is a huge post so I will talk about Thanksgiving in SF in part 2 coming later. But all good posts need a parting shot, and this one is the raddest of them all. If you can guess where this image came from, I'll mail you five dollars (some people are obviously excluded from this contest).

Don't be a nebbish.

Hahaha,

Dt.

Back once again with the renegade master

Looking back, my last post was August 20th, which is just about the time that I got serious studying for the PhD quals. Well, the good news is that I'm not dead, even though it seemed like it at times. The other good news is that I'll be updating regularly once more in the way that only a lazy ass with a camera can (photoblooooogs). The even better news is that this mother fucker passed his mother fucking quals.

Eat.

That.

Shit.

GT.

You can't haze me! I'm the king of this rap game (back to the ghetto mother fuckers, we gon' money it up, the king gon' turn it to smut). AHAHAHAHAHA.

Ok, I'm done.

I'm in LA right now and my brother Jamie just got married. Seems like I'm up next on the hit list, which is a thought that I refuse to have at this point in time. The wedding was exactly what weddings should be; it was a heartfelt celebration of two of the straight up best people I know promising to love each other forever. When you have such a pure core to the celebration, how can it not be fun? Hint: impossible.

I'll update with photographic evidence of this (science!) when I get all the pictures from the various living cameras at the festivities collected into one album. Needless to say, it's been a great weekend.

Oh, and Nosaj Thing is still rad live, but he needs a new album bad. SPEAKING OF NEW ALBUMS:

http://www.illegal-art.net/allday/

http://www.illegal-art.net/allday/

http://www.illegal-art.net/allday/

http://www.illegal-art.net/allday/

http://www.illegal-art.net/allday/

http://www.illegal-art.net/allday/

http://www.illegal-art.net/allday/

http://www.illegal-art.net/allday/

http://www.illegal-art.net/allday/

http://www.illegal-art.net/allday/

http://www.illegal-art.net/allday/

http://www.illegal-art.net/allday/

http://www.illegal-art.net/allday/

http://www.illegal-art.net/allday/

http://www.illegal-art.net/allday/

Get it.

One last thing, I plan to do a brief recap of all the crazy shit that happened during quals study blackout. It's just as much to reassure myself that I don't suck as anything else. When you sit around staring at books and tests all day, you lose perspective in a bad way. Time to reperspectivise.

Word.

Regarding the freedom of religion

This.

I expect Jon Stewart, but Mr. Heston, congratulations for being mistakenly tolerant.

Of Blood and Mountains

I believe that there is a subtle magnetism in Nature, which, if we unconsciously yield to it, will direct us aright.

-Henry David Thoreau

If ever I doubted Mr. Thoreau, well, I still doubt him but I agree with his quotation. Aside from the fact that a subtle magnetism literally runs through nature and tends to be the backpacker's main source of guidance, it is truly easy to find peace when all that surrounds you is vegetation, endurance trials, and that impossible mixture of animal smells, sweat, and dead bugs stuck to your skin. To many people nature means a cleansing atmosphere, a return to the origins of humanity and a simpler state of mind. This state of mind is not so dissimilar to me as the subconscious state that I slip into when I'm driving (ironically). The mind stops focusing on specific things, the hard details of the world that form the engineer's milieu and mire us everyday. Instead we regress into a perceptive state based entirely on shape, rate, and intuition. We react based on an inherent understanding of the world around us that is filtered by this mindset, a lens which distorts the analytical facts into the abstract framework of how we believe the world should work. This mindset fascinates me, and I find it easier to slip into at any time when the important thing is the action, not the consequence. When backpacking, it's important to move, to experience, not to get from A to B. You can be anywhere, live anywhere. Your location ceases to matter so much as that you are fulfilled when you get there.

But there is also something else. Nature is a way to communicate with yourself in a way that no therapist or cathartic entertainment can reproduce. By pushing your limits and supporting yourself completely, by striving for self-sufficiency, you can create an environment in which you are the only variable, and all your cognitive states are the result of internal, not external, stimuli. This is what people mean when they say that they are "finding themselves" and this is what is at the heart of Thoreau's sentiment.

Enough waxing philosophical. On with the photo-documentation.

The Trip

Adrienne and I went up to the Cohutta Wilderness on Saturday, arriving at noon with hop in our step and smiles on our mugs at the Jacks River Falls trailhead

http://www.trimbleoutdoors.com/ViewTrip/59975

Told you so.

The highlight of this trip is the incredible number of river crossings. The procedure basically is as follows:

(1) Hike from a decent elevation down to Jack's River

(2) Zig-zag across the river, making your way downstream

(3) Camp

(4) Find incredible waterfall

(5) ???

(6) Profit

Step 1:

The hike down was easy, and spotted with interesting fungi and plant life. Life seems awesome on the way down, and you begin to really get into the mood. How can it get better?

Like this.

Step 2:

Then you hit the river crossings. All 40+ of them. So many river crossings that Adrienne wore her Five-fingers the whole time and I bought new water shoes (thus breaking the cardinal rule: never wear new shoes on a hike). We did this:

And experienced this:

Life is good.

Step 3:

We hiked slowly the first day, making about 8 miles in the 6.5 to 7 hours of hiking. It's not that it was hard, it's just that we didn't want to rush, and as a result, we somehow managed to stumble into the best camping spot possible. Ten feet from a river, the closest you could get to the falls without overshooting, and full of sweet camping gear (that we now completely own. Renting is for suckers).

Also, major props to Adrienne for suggesting we fry our bananas for desert. Who knew that applying heat and denaturing proteins could taste so good?

Step 4:

Day 2 - Finally, paydirt. The approach to the waterfall was spectacular, but completely overshadowed by the power and the majesty of the falls themselves. It's remarkable how profoundly running water can change your feeble mind. It's a place where thousands of years have created and destroyed, where the most powerful of the earth's features are leveled and shaped

where the most common of substances cascades with terrifying force

And where nature is born, and nature dies.

This is what causes people to make religions.

Step 5:

And then there were the little moments. The attempted humorous picture completely miscommunicated and framed

the hunting of Adrienne by a ravenous pack of beasts

and the ultimate satisfaction of cleansing one's self on holy ground

I think it's safe to say that I found what I was looking for.

Step 6:

And finally, then end. Instead of continuing to the western trail head as per the normal route, we hiked back the way we came, which meant 11 miles or so in one day. This would not normally be so bad except for two things:

(1) Adrienne was wearing five-fingers and already had a busted pinky toe.

(2) I was wearing new shoes which, without my knowledge, were built with razor blades in the heels.

The hike back was one of the most trying experiences of my life. Half Dome is nothing compared to hiking with blisters and cuts all over your feet, or in Adrienne's case, a possibly broken toe and herculean muscle pains. By the time we got back to my truck, we looked and felt like walking dead.

Like all good religious people, we had to suffer for our god.