San Francisco, CA (United States)

San Francisco's Chinatown is the oldest in North America and the largest Chinese community outside Asia. Even without the tiled roofs, watching the ladies doing tai-chi exercises and old men hunched over strange board games in the park makes you feel like you've stepped into another country. Lunch in the business district was tasty with a spicy conch salad, thin-sliced pickled beef, and perfectly steamed baby bok choi. After multiple shots of teas with names like Red Robe and Iron Goddess at a free tasting, we caved to an expensive purchase of a Lapsang Souchong - surprisingly delicate on the smoke - from what must have been the most jaded, yet knowledgeable, barista ever.
Me: “Which one's your favorite?”
Mr. Bore-ista: “This one here. It's not as astringent as the variety usually is.”
Long silence.
Me: “Er, can we try it?”
Long silence.
Mr. Bore-ista sighs.
Long silence.
Mr. Bore-ista: “I guess.”

Not content with your average Alcatraz trip, we opted to see the bay under sail. Eagerly boarding the 135-year-old scow schooner Alma, we learned the commands and helped raise the sails. This was not an easy task even with a dozen people hauling. There's something quite fantastic hearing some old salt roar, “Avast!” on the sea, and I learned “Heave!” and “Ho!” is a thoroughly valid call-and-response onboard. Rich even got to steer the big wheel for a while using that ancient combination of feeling the wind, keeping an eye to the sails, lining her up with coastal landmarks… and an app on a tablet tucked away on a shelf. Besides circumnavigating the prison from The Rock and other films, we also got to watch out for harbor porpoises playing in the bay. The rest of the San Francisco Maritime National Historic Park is well-worth a visit, too, as there are other restored ships to see. Like the Balclutha, which hauled cargo like timber to Australia, coal, and Alaskan salmon before her retirement, and on the day we visited, was being painstakingly re-caulked in traditional fashion: a guy on his hands and knees pouring hot tar from a metal pitcher. Sea lions were also resting on the docks with far fewer spectators than the famous ones that took over pier 39.

Further down is tourist central – Fisherman's Wharf. We lingered long enough to fill our bellies with 2 local favorites: sandwich rolls packed with dungeness crab and shrimp and clam chowder in Boudin's sourdough bread bowls. But the real winner for Rich was the Musée Mécanique, a penny arcade filled with antique games. It's clear they were originally intended as adult amusements since a variety of machines showed a gruesome fascination with reproducing different methods of executions with puppetry. The mechanic fortune tellers spit out mixed forecasts of my future, and my luck definitely took a turn for the worse as I lost to Rich at wind-up races for horses, cars, and even firemen going up ladders. Still, a handful of quarters is pretty cheap entertainment by California standards.

Other great deals were nights at the museum. The DeYoung Museum was completely free with an experimental band playing in the hall. The tower afforded lovely views of the San Francisco skyline, and Rich and I got our hands dirty learning to make felt for an interactive project by the artist-in-residence. The California Academy of Sciences Nightlife was a reduced priced ticket for adults only to explore the wonders of the Philippine coral reef exhibit – hey, we just saw those guys! -, wander up the spiral walkway in the glass-encased tropical rainforest, or take in a show at the Planetarium. With the bartenders – or are they all mixologists in San Francisco? - serving up cocktail specials and a rooftop garden, it's the coolest night spot in town. As a nod to the Outside Lands Festival dominating the rest of Golden Gate Park, there were concerts in the back garden and even a DJ inside playing Damon Albarn's funky beats!

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North America

Yosemite National Park, CA, Part II (United States)

The brochure on Yosemite they hand you at the entrance gives horrifying yet darkly humorous warnings about bears (“Keep food within arm's reach, in a food locker, a bear-resistant canister, or hard-sided hotel room.”) and mountain lions (“Pick up children so they look larger. Attacks are rare, but if you are attacked, fight back.”) But after a good night's sleep in one of the last remaining rooms in nearby Groveland, we discovered the real danger to us was forest fires. If we hadn't seen the line of fire trucks just outside of town, driven past scorched trees and through billowing smoke, a road-side Smokey Bear was holding up a sign with the hazard level marked “High” each day of our visit there.

Though the popular trails can be teeming, Rich was happy to find that taking a side trail, or indeed, any in the high country quickly thinned crowds to a mere handful. The hike to Sentinel Dome was one such and afforded 360-degree views including some of the park's biggest stars: El Capitán, Lower and Upper Yosemite Falls, Half Dome, and Clouds Rest. Man, this place is awesome! ...and I mean that in the truest sense of the word, or as Eddie Izzard puts it, “1000 hot dogs awesome.” Eavesdropping on a big family, the rock climbers in the bunch were regaling their audience with stories of how long it took to find a free climb route up The Nose of El Capitán – 14 years! Evidently, climbers tackling the 3000-ft granite monolith sleep in bivouac sacks anchored to the rock face and wake every couple of hours in the night to put balm on their fingers in an attempt to regrow the skin. Yikes!

Taft Point is an overlook that requires a measure of courage itself. What may look like narrow cracks in the wide expanse of granite are actually deep fissures you can actually see drop down to the valley floor 3500 ft below. You can walk right up to the edge – although crawling is a much, much safer option - to look over the side, at least until the vertigo gets the better of you. A family of Spaniards – I suppose we were visiting in August – were giving their mother panic attacks with their antics. ¡Hostia!

It is, arguably though, a better view than at Glacier Point, which is where all of the coach buses and RVs seem to empty out. Good spot for people-watching. I saw a Japanese tourist taking dozens of photos with a giant lens, which I know a friend once paid $1000 just to rent, then whip out his iPhone for a selfie. Seriously?! We did get to speak to a retired ranger/fire crew boss about the forest fires, and he also shared his ax to grind about another agency – the U.S. Forest Service, which allows logging and mining on the land it manages.

The Mariposa Grove was closed for restoration so we stopped into the Tuolumne Grove to see the giant sequoias. Related to the coastal redwoods we saw in Muir Woods, these titans are even more impressive. Sequoiadendron giganteum, growing up to 85 m (~279 ft) in height and 8 m (~26 ft) in diameter, is the largest living thing in the world. There was one in the grove with an old picture of someone driving a coach and horses through the gap in the bottom! You can crawl through a tunnel created by the hollowed trunk of another felled giant sequoia. Rich took the opportunity to do a Bran Stark impression engulfed in its gnarled roots.

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North America

Central Valley and Yosemite National Park, CA (United States)

Hearing about the California drought in the news all the time, and people buying up land just for the water rights like a nightmare out of Dune, it was fascinating driving through the agricultural behemoth that is the Central Valley. Farmers here grow over 200 different crops, providing a third of all produce grown in the U.S. We drove past livestock grazing determinedly in yellowed pastures and reservoirs with depths of exposed rock showing shockingly low water from historic levels. The only breaks in the parched earth were patches of directed irrigation to each fruit tree or crop row... and some bastards' houses with suspiciously green lawns. In a landscape that hearkens back to the Dust Bowl, how is that even allowed?!

On a positive note though, we were headed to Yosemite! One of the first National Parks and a UNESCO World Heritage Site, people have been lobbying to protect it one way or another since the mid-1800s. Covering roughly 750,000 acres (~300,000 hectares), this huge tract of wilderness in the Sierra Nevada Mountains attracts nearly 4 million tourists each year. Inside there is a free shuttle bus system to the different trail heads and visitor centers, a brilliant idea to cut down the traffic in the park and chaos of finding parking. Following the ranger's suggestion – and what looked like everybody else's plans - we stretched our legs on the hike from Happy Isles to Vernal Fall and onward to Nevada Fall via the Mist Trail. Why they are officially called “Fall” and not “Falls,” I have no idea. The trail follows the Merced River, and even with the drought, the steep drops of the falls are impressive. A good workout, too, as it's about 600 steps in the granite. Random people passing us made references to the Denver Broncos, and it took us a while to solve the mystery. Rich's Durham Bulls cap looked remarkably similar to a Broncos one: Both are animals with steam coming out their nostrils jumping through a big orange D on a blue background. Weird!

After working up a sweat, the open stretches of Emerald Pool and Silver Apron Beach at the midpoint start to look mighty fine for a swim if slipping to your death weren't a real hazard. The scenery flattens out a bit at the top of Vernal Fall in pretty much the idealized version of mountain stream in the woods - an idyllic spot for a picnic and dip for tired feet.  Heading back down via the easier John Muir Trail gave us nice views back toward Mount Broderick and Liberty Cap. Much to our chagrin, the whole loop – only 5.4 miles (~8.7 km) - took us over 6 hours... but, hey, the gain in elevation was 2000 ft (~610 m)!  

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North America

Golden Gate Bridge and Muir Woods, CA (United States)

We figured the payment for a red-eye flight would come in physical discomfort rather than our wallets. What we didn't bargain for was the additional 1.5 hours in line in the middle of the night at the rental car office at the San Francisco. Why did we even bother making reservations if walk-ins were in the same queue? Their slogan should be “Thrifty - You Get What You Pay For.”

After a few hours of shut eye, we got back into the rental car and headed north. This route actually put us driving onto the Golden Gate Bridge. This icon of San Francisco, of California even, has spanned the 3-mile-long channel between the bay and Pacific Ocean since 1937. The bridge is popular with photographers (of course), pedestrians, bicyclists, and sadly, jumpers. This once longest suspension bridge in the world can also lay dubious claim to second most popular for suicides, since, if impacting the water at 75 mph didn't kill you, the hypothermia will finish the job.

On the other side of the bridge, we observed self-induced personal anguish. Road racers were pedaling up the punishing hills of Marin county. Sure, the scenery was ace with glimpses of the crashing waves on rocky coasts and evergreen forests. But you're still on scorching pavement, being passed none too gently by impatient SUVs and Route 1 convertibles, and going steadily - or more often, very wobbly - uphill. Just witnessing the Sisyphean struggle was akin to the pangs I feel watching those miserable sods who ski cross-country on TV, and those are Olympians!

Muir Woods National Monument - named after naturalist John Muir - was our opportunity to see the old-growth coastal redwoods. We weren't the only ones. The parking lots and subsequent shoulders of the road were packed, and we heard German, Japanese, Spanish, and French in the visitor's center. Amazingly though, most of the crowds heeded the signs for respectful quiet on the trails - even the Filipinos! Of course, there is always that one guy, and curiously enough, tonight's role was played by a Canadian sports fan loudly pontificating on his team's prospects for the season. Aside from this minor disturbance, peace and tranquility reigned in the Bohemian and Cathedral Groves. In the latter, there is even a plaque commemorating an earlier visit from international folks – delegates in town to draft and sign the United Nations Charter - to honor President Franklin Roosevelt, who died shortly before he was to open the conference.

The majestic Sequoia sempervirens can grow up to heights of 115 m, roughly 380 ft, and the trail along the ridgeline offered an interesting perspective. For most trees, it would have been high enough to down onto them, but since these are redwoods, it just meant the neck strain looking up wasn't quite so severe. The cool temperatures under the canopy were such a nice respite from the brutality of a North Carolina summer, and the forest floor was covered in a riot of ferns and clover with leaflets the size of quarters. Maybe it's the jet-lag speaking, but we felt like even the fresh air had a different quality to it, positively exhilarating with all of that photosynthesis pumping oxygen into the environment. The coastal redwoods can live 1200 - 1800 years. It's crazy to think that the entirety of our nation's history could be reduced to only a fraction of their tree rings. Not so crazy – and maybe this is the O2-mainlining talking – to imagine these giant inhabitants as ents from the Lord of the Rings.

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North America

Chicago, IL (United States)

Growing up in the Midwest, Chicago was the big city. There were regular trips as a child, though most of my memories seem to be of buying in bulk at the Asian grocery stores and bakeries of Chinatown. It's quite a ways from us now, but I still have a fondness for it ...and even better, a free place to stay with family.

Having enjoyed one of the Chicago Architecture Foundation's river cruises in the past (well-worth it but bring sunscreen), we were pleased to hear they also do walking tours. After living in a city popular with tourists for its own distinct architecture, Rich was a little embarrassed to be part of one of those groups with earphones and blocking up the sidewalks. But he got over it, since the opportunity to view skyscrapers in the city of their birth, with a knowledgeable docent explaining what's what, was too good to pass up. Plus, we were a drop in a bucket on the streets, compared to the 70,000 in town with tie-dye shirts and a lingering cloud of marijuana to celebrate the Grateful Dead's 50th anniversary 3-day festival.

On the tour, we learned a bit about the Chicago School style, which incorporates large windows for retail at the ground level, then offices in the mid-section with typical 3-part "Chicago windows," and finally, the highest levels capped with a cornice. In the early days, the architects occupied these spaces, and not because they were the luxurious penthouse. Because the public didn't trust that being so high up - say, 10 or 15 stories - was safe! It was surprising to walk around these very functional exteriors and then step into jaw-dropping lobbies of glamour and excess. With elaborate mosaics, Italian marbles, and shiny metal work, the object was to impress clients and investors. The docent pointed out the chandeliers that look like upside-down wedding cake, marble veneers cut so that the corners create diamond patterns, and the motifs so common in Art Deco: owls or eagles with big ol' beefy knees.

The Monadnock, at 17 stories high, was the tallest building with load-bearing masonry walls ever constructed, evidenced by the windows set deep into the 6-ft thick sides of the ground floor. I thought the funny name sounded familiar, only to realize later that my friends moved their offices to it (check'em out here if you are looking for a lawyer).

Our favorite by a landslide was Burnham and Root's Rookery, built in 1888. When we were headed in that direction, my relative said, "Hey, I think we're going to my eye doctor's!" Though there is an optician's, there are plenty of sights to make your eyes open wide. There are crows and pigeons and all manner of ornamentation in the exterior facade of terra cotta, marble, and brick. Frank Lloyd Wright did the redesign of the lobby in 1905, and the effects are breathtaking. Dominated by a courtyard of white marble and a Persian-style filigreed roof, it is filled with natural light. It came as no surprise that many people are interested in renting it out for weddings and special events.

For a walk only slightly less urban, we tried out the new 606 trail. An old train line was converted for walkers, runners, and bikers. Parts of the landscaping had been only recently installed, but the 606 was already becoming very busy. As an elevated path, it was interesting to be able to look at the different houses and peek into backyards. We weren't the only people taking snaps of the neat rows of celebrity chef and Mexican cuisine restaurateur Rick Bayless's beautiful kitchen garden.

My family really likes food. Our short trip to Chicago still afforded many occasions to engage in our collective eating-as-bonding experiences. Comedian Aziz Ansari's raves drove us into the long line at one of the city's 2 locations of Shake Shack, the burger chain New Yorkers go wild over. Boasting fresh ground Angus beef, it was a tasty burger, although the bun may not have quite stood up to the one we picked - topped with a kind of Yankee version of pimento cheese. The dog featured a Publican pork sausage, a local nod to the Second City. The real winner was the caramelized peach shake, which we grudgingly admitted beat out North Carolina's own Cook Out Creamery. Fancy dinner was at Girl & the Goat, reservations at which we had tried to get several times over the years. Top Chef winner Stephanie Izard makes an awesome kohlrabi and fennel salad, delightful stuffed squash blossoms, and a truly refined pan-roasted halibut. There were a few misses among the small plates, but the server was correct that the miso-butterscotch budino (butterscotch pudding, sponge cake, all creamy and crunchy and foamy light) was among the best desserts we've ever eaten. We finished up with that urban favorite: brunch. We got "Dutch babies" in the Gold Coast. The savory version of the German pfannkuchen derivative came filled with veggies and cheese like a quiche and the sweet with strawberries or apples embedded. Yum!

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North America

Savannah and Tybee Island, GA (United States)

Earlier this year, we decided on a whim to drive the 5 hours south to Savannah for the weekend. We'd never been to this city, the oldest in Georgia and featuring prominently in the bestselling book and film Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. Southern charm oozes on the streets lined with live oaks, artistically draped with Spanish moss, and any one of the 22 squares in the historic district. These quiet greenspaces are pleasant to walk around, and we even stumbled into some kind of Polish remembrance parade, complete with traditional costumes and brass band around the Casimir Pulaski Monument in Monterey square. In the much larger expanse of Forsyth Park, volunteers were setting up or tearing down the starting line to a 5k race, couples were picnicking and playing frisbee with their dogs, and families were buying fresh vegetables and cheeses in the morning's farmer's market.

Rich found us a room in one of the historic houses functioning as a boutique hotel. Built in 1847 as a private home, the Eliza Thompson House hosts wine and cheese get-togethers for hotel guests in the formal parlour, followed later by desserts and coffee, and port or sherry left out in a crystal decanter for a nightcap. Such posh digs almost compel you to look around for the bell to ring Carson for tea!

You could likely spend a week prowling preserved homes and antique shops should antebellum architecture and history be your passion. We also visited the Owens-Thomas House, as part of our Telfair Museums ticket. Designed by English architect William Jay, the Regency-style neoclassical building functioned as a residence by a wealthy merchant family and then as elegant lodging house, boasting the Revolutionary War hero Marquis de Lafayette as one of its illustrious guests. We were surprised to see large cisterns and indoor plumbing in such an old house, and even more curious, a humpback bridge connecting the two sides of the top floor! The docent-led tour begins in the intact slave quarters, where remnants of blue paint are visible on the wooden boards. In the Gullah (coastal enslaved Africans) culture, this distinctive haint-blue color was thought to ward off evil spirits.

The other two entries on the Telfair Museums ticket were for the Telfair Academy and the Jepson Center. The former is also a historic home, mostly used to display a selection of nineteenth-century portraits, landscapes, and sculpture. The Jepson Center, on the other hand, is a bright, modern space with contemporary art. On our visit, Andy Warhol was dominant in a pop art exhibit, and another gallery was inspired by jazz and the Harlem Renaissance. The accompanying music was catchy, but I had difficulty convincing Rich to thrown down some lindy hop moves with me in the middle of an art museum. The city is also home to the acclaimed Savannah College of Art and Design (SCAD). Besides passing campus buildings, you can also take a piece home as the gift shop actually sells textiles and other items designed by SCAD students and faculty.

Most visitors to Savannah find themselves along the riverfront. The long stretch along the Savannah River is home to restaurants, pubs, and souvenir shops. A frequent sight among the pedestrians is what is known as “to-go cups.” You can walk up to any bar and order alcohol in a to-go cup and just take it away. No need to confine yourself to one establishment or wait for everyone in your party to finish the round. It was convenient, but as such a novelty to most people, Rich felt the result was far more displays of public drunkenness. At times, the atmosphere could give you flashbacks to college keggers on the lawn.

Amid the candy barrels and demos of how to cook pralines in the brick-and-mortar stores, the riverfront also happened to be the site for a festival of sweets the weekend of our visit. Booths popped up to ply their wares of fancy chocolates, taffy, ice cream, and different honeys. As one charity - leading a small pig in a dress - took the mic on the mainstage, only we seemed to notice the irony of trying to raise awareness for diabetes amidst such sugary sales.

On our way out of town, we stopped off at a couple of places. In Bonaventure Cemetery, ornate Southern Gothic tombstones, statues, and mausoleums are laid out in winding paths on a bluff of the Wilmington River. Famous inhabitants include poet Conrad Aiken, lyricist and Capitol Records founder Johnny Mercer, and - temporarily - naturalist John Muir, who apparently camped out on the graves for several days in his Thousand Mile Walk. Lunch was on Tybee Island, a popular getaway for Savannahians. Enjoying a low country boil of mussels, crawfish, crab legs, shrimps, sausage, corn, and potatoes was an excellent end to our little holiday. 

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North America

Deep Sea Fishing in the Outer Banks, NC (United States)

We returned to our old haunt in the Outer Banks to try our hand at deep sea fishing. There are several boats available for charter that dock in Silver Lake Harbor on Ocracoke Island. We opted for a half day charter on the boat Drum Stick, which included the licenses, crew, and tackle. To get in the spirit of things, we all got anchor tattoos on our arms... at least, temporary ones. Arrrh, me hearties!

The captain handled the steering and locating the fish, using sonar and radioing with other boats out for the day. The first mate showed us how to cast and baited the lines. The Outer Banks coastline is littered with old shipwrecks, and our first stop was over a wreck where a school of black sea bass had been spotted. Each rod had 2 hooks baited with large chunks of an oily fish that the fishermen deemed only good for bait. As soon as the sinker started dropping into the water, we could feel the fish starting to nibble. Reel in, cast out, reel in, cast out... The fish were biting so quick that Rich's stepdad pointed out there was hardly any sport in it. The limit is 5 black sea bass per person, and we easily caught 3 or 4 times that many if you count the small ones we had to let go. My first keeper (i.e. the sea bass must be at least 13 inches long) actually came as I kept the line dangling in the water, waiting for the first mate to unhook and release a piddly one. Suddenly, a big bass surfaced to gulp down the chunk on the other hook, and I hauled in my first real catch. It wasn't long before we caught our limit... though not before tiring out our arm and shoulder muscles.

Then the first mate baited the trawling lines with lures like shiny spoons, which wriggle and flicker in the water. We watched closely for the tip of the rod to start twitching violently, and then the game was on! One person would grab the rod out of the stand and start cranking the reel as quickly as possible. Sometimes the fish would be fighting so hard you had to jump into the chair to get better leverage and really put your back into it. We only had 2 trawling lines, but inevitably, they would both get a bite at the same time. Adrenaline was pumping all around as 2 people were hauling in the lines with all their might, and fish with razor sharp teeth were flopping around on the deck and spattering blood all over before we could get the hooks out. We caught bonita, king mackerel, Spanish mackerel, and albacore. The gorgeous amberjacks had to be released as the minimum take home was at least 27 inches long. Unfortunately, some of our biggest catches and toughest fighters the fishermen told us were only good for bait.

We landed our catch - 30 beauties laid out on the deck for the crowd on the dock to admire. Most of the fish were filleted for us to take home, but we also got a few just descaled and gutted. Whole black sea bass baked in a salt crust dome made for a superb dinner!

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North America

Qatar Airways (somewhere between the U.S. and the Philippines)

Flying to the Philippines from the States is no picnic. The flight paths for most U.S.-based carriers involve connecting flights to hubs in the Midwest or West Coast to a long layover in Japan and finally Manila, the capital. We hoped going the other direction on Qatar Airways would offer a modicum of comfort for the 30 hour journey, like say on Emirates to Australia. Sadly, this was not the case.

What we did get was an aging plane, an unnavigable menu, an unintelligible crew, and not one, but two crying babies (!) like some natal rendition of dueling banjos on repeat for the duration of the 16 hour leg. Relief - if you can call it that - came in the form of babies quieting to the dulcet tones of "Wheels on the Bus" blaring from an iPad.

In our exhausted states, we could only laugh at a still questionable exchange with the cabin crew.

Chinese (?) flight attendant: Something to eat? Sandwich cheese or cereal?
Rich: Cereal, please.
[Result: A granola bar.]
Flight attendant:  Sandwich cheese or cereal?
Arabic seatmate and me: Cheese sandwich.
Flight attendant: No cheese. Here is sandwich. Sandwich tuna. TU-NA.
Arabic guy and me: Ok.
[Me opening package, careful examination of sandwich.]
[Arabic guy opening and carefully examining sandwich.]
Arabic guy to me: This is not tuna.
Me: No, it's not. I think it's eggplant.
Arabic guy: Yes, I think so. Eggplant.
[Careful munching of eggplant - no cheese or tuna - sandwiches.]

Kaiseki and Japanese tea gathering in Durham, NC (United States)

For one reason or another, Japan had never quite made it to the top of our "To Visit List." A couple of wonderful, traditional experiences we had locally though just tipped the scales heavily on the side of Go, Go, Go.

Years ago we tried out a very nondescript Japanese restaurant in a strip mall near our then-apartment. The sushi was fine but mostly unremarkable with the usual Americanized fare. The only reason it stuck in the memory was my silent judging of the boisterous group at the next table over: chatty, middle-aged moms in schlumpy clothes who I imagined would balk at chicken with bones or a shrimp in its shell. Imagine my surprise when they enthusiastically ordered the most adventurous selections on the menu! The lesson from judging these books by their covers continues to ring in my head and still has power to humble the hater in me.

Fast forward to our return to North Carolina, and we see the same place -Yamazushi - has been accruing "Best of" awards left and right. Curious, a little digging revealed that a life-threatening illness convinced the owners to overhaul the entire operation and focus on the food they wanted to make: kaiseki. This ancient Japanese tradition is a multi-course meal, originating with Zen monks and, over time, formalized into haute cuisine fit for an emperor. A kaiseki meal can incorporate a dozen or more courses, often small and balanced for taste, texture, and appearance.

It was extraordinary. Autumn appeared as a persimmon and seaweed salad in a cup fashioned out of the fruit and an elegant soup with Japanese matsutake mushrooms - at an average of $90/kg, an ingredient I'd never imagined seeing outside of Iron Chef - served in a teapot. Each course gave us a new favorite. Scallop coated in crunchy rice crackers. A strange forest of carved vegetables with bluefin tuna belly that tasted weirdly like organ meat. A revelation of lightly charred Alaskan black cod that had marinated in white miso for days. And uni! Someone once prefaced our introduction to raw sea urchin as "like when a big wave smacks you down at the beach, and you come up with a mouthful of sand and water." About right at the time. At Yamazushi, however, the uni was a fleeting, creamy custard wonder that made us regret slurping it down.

The food wasn't the only marvel in the restaurant. The ambiance was more akin to a spa, quiet and soothing. During the 3 hour meal, the wait staff was courteous and attentive without being intrusive, even going so far as to ask if we would enjoy a break between courses. We did. Each dish and paired sake was personally described by the owner, and each course arrived on unique pottery thrown by the chef!

Loving attention to detail and appreciation of the seasons were also themes we saw in a traditional Japanese tea gathering (not a ceremony, as we learned is a bit of a mistranslation). Practitioners of the Chado, or way of tea, from the Urasenke family tradition host a monthly gathering at the Sarah P. Duke Gardens. It takes place in a Japanese tea house constructed a few years ago in the traditional 4.5 tatami mat style amid the already fine Asiatic Arboretum. We were guided to the waiting bench, where the host, enveloped in a brilliant orange kimono accenting the surrounding fall foliage, welcomed us. Walking down a tranquil, winding path encourages guests to leave behind worries and stresses. Our other host demonstrated the purifying of hands, and we all followed suit, scooping cool water and rinsing each hand, then the scoop and handle a little awkwardly.

The entrance to the actual tea house requires bending and crawling through a small door so that everyone must enter as equals... and cannot fit through with their swords, a point of significance in Japan's warring past. Everything from the sweets to the tea utensils to the poetry on the hanging scroll are thoughtfully selected by the host to highlight the season. The exquisite care taken is observable in the tea-making itself with how the napkin is gracefully folded, how the tea is offered and accepted, and how the bowls are held and turned. Most of the action takes place in silence. One would think the formality could be a strain. We found, on the contrary, that it was quite peaceful. How rare is it, in these modern times, for all of you, in such an intimate setting, to focus solely on watching one person perform their art? A truly lovely experience... only interrupted by the pins and needles building up in our legs. I guess we need to work on our own serenity!  

Lake Placid and the Adirondack Mountains, NY (United States)

The snarl of Montreal weekend traffic was tremendous with construction and poorly signed detours. The drive down south, surprising to me, gave way to stretches of farmland unbroken but for the occasional cluster of grain silos, not unlike the American Midwest. Re-entering the country, we didn't talk a specific game plan beforehand. The border agent was perplexed at our itinerary (yes, we live in the U.S.; no, we flew into Canada; yes, we are driving back in; etc), and nervous answers interrupting each other didn't really help. Despite all our travels, having both been on temporary visa status in foreign countries and subject to the whim of immigration officials always puts us on edge. We'd make terrible drug mules!

The wedding of Pepper's uncle brought us just in time to witness the final blaze of autumnal glory in the Adirondack Mountains. The mountains are unconnected to any other chain, and instead, rise in an eroded dome of 46 peaks in northeastern New York. The "High Peaks" are very popular with outdoorsmen/women with many eager to join the Forty Sixers club of those who've summitted the lot. We opted for the much visited Mount Jo. Even at 7:30 am, we were lucky to snag one of the last spots in the car park next to the lodge and trailhead. Latecomers were relegated to the overflow lot, adding another 1.5 miles to their hike along a narrow shoulder of not terribly scenic and very busy road. The route to the summit itself passes the nature museum and continues on the Indian Pass Trail, skirting the shore line of serene Heart Lake. We went for the short but steep trail on the way up, clambering over boulders and ascending 710 feet with a noticeable temperature change. The reward was the view from the top, offering a sweeping panorama of the High Peaks. Coming from North Carolina, where the fall foliage in our mountains is nothing to be sneezed at, I have to admit autumn color in the Adirondacks is something special. The rich reds and oranges of the temperate forest intermingle with the blue and grey greens of spruce and pine in what is the southernmost distribution of boreal forest in North America. Here and there the brilliant mosaic is set off by the white bark of paper birches with occasional gusts of wind disturbing the little, yellowing leaves in twinkling, gold shimmers.

Our base in the region was Lake Placid. It is most famous for hosting the 1980 Winter Olympics, where American underdogs beat the Soviet team in a Cold War victory and went on to win hockey gold in a story known as the "Miracle on Ice." The Olympic Training Center still caters to sledding and skating hopefuls, and with the zoom lens of our camera, we could just about pick out the ski jumpers on top of the 90 and 120 meter towers. Sans snow, apparently these competitors in the national championships have some sort of dry slope technology on which to land, but man, the rug burn if you catch an edge! Yikes!

The village is quite charming with the cafes, bars, and little souvenir shops typical of many ski towns. But oddly enough, the lake that most of the village wraps around is not Lake Placid itself, but smaller Mirror Lake. Despite the bracing temperatures, we hopped into a couple of kayaks to paddle around the tranquil waters. We did get a chance to see the actual Lake Placid, located on the northern edge of the village, for the lakeside wedding. The happy couple even had the eponymous adirondack chairs for guests to sign as a creative alternative for a guestbook!

Pilot Mountain State Park, NC (United States)

“Watch for falling bombs!” is what the sign should have read as we were pulling into the campground. While we were a tad early for fall foliage, giant acorns from chestnut oaks were dropping all around with resounding thunks. A helmet wouldn’t have gone amiss… especially when a direct hit to my thigh hurt like a paintball at point blank range, complete with a yellowing bruise.

We were in Pilot Mountain State Park, one of my favorites out of the forty-some lovely state parks of North Carolina.  The park is located on the western end of an ancient, isolated range called the Sauratown Mountains, which rise sharply above the surrounding terrain.  Pilot Mountain itself was a landmark for Native Americans and pioneers. Today the peak - a white hump of quartzite capped with greenery - makes for a spectacular view, even from the highway (US Route 52).

The Jomeokee trail, looping around the peak, is a very popular one with easy access from the picnic areas and parking lot. A sign informed day-trippers driving in that the waiting time for a parking spot up top was at least 30 minutes long! The trail is a little technical, but short at a scant 0.8 miles. It rounds the dramatic rock faces of Big Pinnacle, and turkey vultures circled effortlessly in the blue skies above. More strenuous is the Ledge Spring Trail following along the rocky cliff. A fine afternoon meant the trail was fair littered with climbers and their gear – everyone from Boy Scouts to a sorority reunion seemed to be trying their hands (and feet) at it.     

Roads less taken included the Mountain and Grassy Ridge Trails, ascending and traversing the mountain. Yellow wingstems were in full flower along the sunnier patches of the upper Mountain Trail, and sprawling stands of pokeweed with their hot-pink stems and deep purple berries made for striking contrasts in the shadier parts. Grassy Ridge deserves its name. The same weeds we mow in our sad excuse for a lawn back home were growing in riotous green splendor on the forest floor, producing a rather restive feel under the canopy. Grassy Ridge is also a bridle trail, though most of the evidence we saw were riders at the junction heading down the longer corridor trail to the river.  This actually put us more at ease, as our dog has a tendency to bark at horses and, even more unsettling, a penchant for their poop!

Ocracoke and the Outer Banks, NC (United States)

Growing up in the landlocked Midwest, the idea that you could get to the ocean in anything less than the grueling 16+ hour trips of my childhood spent in the back of a 15-seater van was a revelation. Where we live in the Triangle means the beach is an easy weekend away or even a day trip... ok, it's a far cry from our 25-minute walk to Barceloneta in Europe, but for most Americans, this is a relatively short distance. Our first year we also discovered that tacking on a few more hours would get us to a really special place: the Outer Banks.

The Outer Banks are a 200-mile chain of narrow barrier islands that outline the coast of North Carolina. They are a popular destination on the east coast. Maybe you've even seen the bumper stickers "OBX"? Many families or friends book beach houses for annual reunions... even humorist David Sedaris has written about it! Nowadays we feel like a house can be quite reasonable when split between a bunch of people. But imagine our delight back when, as broke students, we discovered you could camp for $12 a night!

It seems like everyone who goes to the Outer Banks has a favorite island. We've been going to Ocracoke (pronounced "oh-kra" like the vegetable and "coke" like the cola) for over a decade. It is reachable only by ferry, either from the mainland across the Pamlico Sound or from Hatteras Island, just to the north. The pirate Blackbeard used to ply these waters and frequently anchored in Ocracoke inlet. The place was isolated for so long that you can still hear a touch of the "high tide" accent (pronounced "hoy toyed" in the native brogue) among locals. There is a small museum as well as a British cemetery, where sailors from a British vessel sunk by a German sub during World War II rest in foreign soil. To guide passing mariners, nearly every island on the Outer Banks boasts a lighthouse, usually painted in a distinctive black-and-white pattern, but Ocracoke's, in a simple, solid white, is the oldest in operation.

Apart from the village, the rest of the island is dominated by the Cape Hatteras National Seashore. Its campground is where you can pitch a tent with nothing but a sand dune between you and a glorious expanse of - what is for all practical purposes - a private beach. The sea oats wave golden against the bright blue sky... and they help stop erosion. Funny little sanderlings and sandpipers run along the edge of the surf, and small, roped sections of the beach show where loggerhead turtles have laid eggs. We usually bring our assortment of toys: books, frisbee, volleyball, a stunt kite from local shop Kitty Hawk Kites, and bodyboard (Cape Hatteras itself is popular with the surfers). On clear nights, the stargazing is incredible with the luminous Milky Way stretching across the sky, and on the ground, the highly entertaining ghost crabs scurry in and out of their burrows in the sand, much to our dog's delight. A few days of this life makes for a relaxing way to wrap up the summer!

Linville Gorge and the Blue Ridge Parkway, NC (United States)

North Carolina offers a multitude of options for connecting with the great outdoors, and many a weekend of our previous lives here saw us tramping, as the Kiwis call it, the length and breadth it. As we've been back in the States over a year now (!), it seems high time we revisit some of our favorite spots.

The old mountain chain that runs down along the east coast of the U.S. are the Appalachians (pronounced "a-puh-LATCH-uhns" for the yankees or foreigners out there), and the western part of North Carolina is in the section aptly named the Blue Ridge Mountains. People from around the country visit, making the 400+ mile stretch of scenic highway known as the Blue Ridge Parkway the most visited unit of the entire National Parks System annually. Highway is a bit of misnomer in the usual sense. The speed limit is often around 35 miles per hour and even that will slow to a crawl with traffic during the fall foliage season. The many overlooks do offer gorgeous misty blue views, and the winding road makes it very popular with motorcyclists as well. 

Just off the parkway, the Linville Gorge Wilderness Area lies inside the Pisgah National Forest. The Linville River winds through old growth forest before plunging as a series of waterfalls: an upper twin set flowing into a curving small gorge, then dropping again another 45 feet to the pool below. The trails around and overlooking the plunge basin are relatively easygoing, and recent heavy rains only further improved the whitewater effect. The river continues on with much more technical hikes along the upper ridge of the Linville Gorge proper and steeply descending the 1400 feet to the river below. Topographical maps and compass - and the ability to use them - are highly recommended as not much may be marked beyond the trailheads in this dense forest. There also be bears. Black bears, to be specific. We didn't see any, which was probably a good thing, as Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods has given me a few too many wayward thoughts along those lines... and we didn't have the recommended bells on. There was a colorful array of mushrooms in the undergrowth of this hardwood and pine forest. Unfortunately, the wet conditions that produce such fungi and the gushing falls had a downside. The low-lying rain clouds obscured views across the gorge and even sometimes a few feet in front of our faces. Hours of hiking on slick trails also made for a little unpleasantness, particularly when I succumbed to the inevitable belly flop in the mud in my typical bumbling style. The good news was we discovered our new rain jackets passed the downpour test!       

   

Washington, D.C. (United States)

We were in D.C. years ago, but I had adamantly vetoed the National Air and Space Museum since, at the time, it seemed like the only attraction I'd ever seen in my childhood trips to the nation's capital. My denial probably constituted cruel and unusual punishment for an astrophysicist and former Air Cadet. When work took Rich to Washington, it seemed like a good time to make amends.

The National Air and Space Museum is the country's most visited museum with roughly 8 or 9 million people annually oohing and aahing the world's largest collection of air and spacecraft. It's a madhouse inside, of course, but really, in these times of STEM funding under fire, who can begrudge kids of all ages getting excited about science?! The rockets and displays with gear from the Gemini and Apollo missions are always a big draw, and we really enjoyed the exhibit celebrating over 10 years on Mars. The high def images from the Spirit and Opportunity rovers are gorgeous, and the full-size replica gives you an appreciation for the engineering and design involved. 

Air & Space is only one of the 19 wonderful - and free! - museums that are part of the Smithsonian Institution. Luckily, our visit also coincided with the Smithsonian Folklife Festival. Each year, the institution highlights the cultural heritage of different countries by hosting performances, discussions, and demonstrations. This year China and Kenya were showcased in a massive camp set up on the National Mall. We watched a troupe from Fujian Province with marionette puppets, stepped inside a traditional pokomo hut, and tried Kenyan coastal and upland cuisine. In short, it is what all international festivals dream to be.

In what is rapidly becoming a bad habit for us in visiting big cities, we hit the art hard in D.C. Rich wandered into a private tour with a docent at the Phillips Collection, which he was still raving about the next day. The National Gallery of Art filled that impressionist hole in our hearts with a fine exhibit on Mary Cassatt and Edgar Degas. A video montage loop at the Hirshhorn Museum questioned whether any art is new, and the juxtaposition of Christopher Robin from "Winnie the Pooh" and Mowgli from "The Jungle Book" in eerily identical animation clips blew our minds.

Washington is also a fantastic place to see performing arts. For our indie buzz, the Source Festival was putting on 10-minute plays, chosen from over 500 nationwide submissions. The 6 plays in the series on mortality were alternately absurd and funny and moving with a cult, cancer, and the zombie apocalypse. "Dressing Bobby Strong," about a funeral director's assistant preparing the body of her unrequited first love, managed to be not at all creepy, deeply touching, and our favorite of the bunch. For a distinct contrast, we saw "Shear Madness" at the Kennedy Center. It's a murder mystery set in a hair salon. To explain more would ruin it, suffice to say it was hilarious, so much fun, and easy to understand why it's one of the longest running plays in the world.

As an added bonus, we saw an SUV double park and block traffic, thereby, pissing off the van behind him. The drivers got into a honking and shouting match, ending in the SUV driver trying to deck the other guy through the window. Unfortunately for him, the driver and passenger of the van were undercover cops, who hauled him off in cuffs in seconds!

Hopscotch Music Festival 2013 (Raleigh, NC, U.S.)

The Triangle (the Raleigh - Durham - Chapel Hill area in North Carolina, aka "home" for most of our adult lives) has always been a surprisingly fantastic place for music. There's a vibrant local music scene, and sitting roughly midway between D.C. to the north and Atlanta to the south(east), bands doing the whole East Coast tour thing often put in an appearance... in smaller venues and for much more reasonable prices than you'd catch them for in the big cities. Coming back to the Triangle, we were thrilled to find that, in our absence, the collective interest in live shows has amassed into an eclectic music festival called Hopscotch.

Over 3 days in September, venues all over downtown Raleigh host nearly 200 bands of all shapes and colors and styles. Nathan Bowles's banjo pickin' brought us back to the land of bluegrass, a fitting homecoming for our first stop. Checking in with longtime local rockers The Kingsbury Manx next door was soured by the poor acoustics and the distracting media. Photographers from various news outlets and websites (do 'zines even exist anymore?) flitted about the open pit obnoxiously, angling for up-the-nose close ups and then abruptly turning their backs on the band when they got the shot. Smaller outfits gave us the opportunity to peek into venues that have sprung up since we moved out of the capital city, er, *cough* 7 years ago. From the Bon Jovi tributes on the wall, it's doubtful we'll be back at Deep South Bar, but we were eager to visit the old indie hangout Kings Barcade, risen from the ashes (aka the city demolished it for a parking lot) and reborn in Martin Street Music Hall's old digs. Unfortunately, the wall-of-sound-or-is-it-just-noise? act Merzbow had us high-tailing it out of there. In contrast, Angel Olsen's strange vocal stylings (I thought war-time radio/Edith Piaf, Rich thought female Johnny Cash) were pure enjoyment, and Local Natives's exuberant and super-tight set was one of the festival's highlights.

The main stage in City Plaza also had some great moments. I was thrilled for my old neighbors in their new band Gross Ghost as the opening act (and hearing them promote the show on the NPR station earlier in the day). N.C.-boys-made-good Future Islands played a synthpop set that got everyone in the crowd to boooogie, even with the lead singer's weird crooner-turned-demonic voice. The dance party continued with Holy Ghost! and A-Trak, who Rich thought looked familiar from his Duck Sauce video Barbra Streisand. As a connoisseur of electronica, Rich had a few bones to pick with him, but I couldn't tell if he was just playing to the audience's slightly more mainstream expectations. At any rate, there will be plenty of time for that sort of critique if we end up at one of the other North Carolina festivals - Mountain Oasis Electronic Music Summit or Moogfest!