Three days till I step aboard a plane, then another plane, then another plane, and find myself in Lyon, France.
My boyfriend and I have been cramming useful French phrases into our tired brains, and hopefully that will be enough. I have been trying to be as prepared as possible, getting a pet sitter (Thanks Michelle!), getting my passport renewed, arranging things at work to be covered, but I have a new worry, and it's the classic ... money.
I could use my check card from my bank. They only charge 1% interest per withdrawal. But then there is the other bank's fee and a possible fee for exchanging.
I could get a traveler's check card from AAA, which I so judiciously joined just last week, but they charge $3 per transaction, plus the exchange fee and an overall fee of $3, which would add up, especially if you add in the foreign bank's fees.
Or I could go with American Express Traveler's Cheques, which are free to exchange, if you have an AmEx office nearby, otherwise I'm sure you must pay a fee to cash them. I can't tell because AmEx has nothing on their Web site about their fees and when I tried calling their customer service number, no one picked up.
Doesn't exactly build confidence that they'll be there when I need them.
So what should I do? I guess the wisest thing would be to bring some extra cash in Traveler's Cheques and just use my bank card.
Hopefully nobody will steal my bank card. When I called TD Bank up to ask what I should do if that happens, they said just call and cancel it. But they couldn't give me an answer to how I could access my account if I was stuck over there without one.
Not very helpful.
My second concern going overseas is that something will happen at my apartment while I'm away. There has been an increase in drug sales in the area, most in broad daylight and some right outside my apartment. I attribute the increase to the chronic store on the corner fronting as a grocery store.
I've been in there and the selection of goods is paltry and overpriced, and they are always mysteriously shoving things behind the checkout counter when I walk in.
It disgusts me that people who have no residence here and aren't interested in the quality of life think they can just muscle their way in and do whatever they like.
Yesterday I wanted to open the window and tell some of those fuckers to get lost, but my boyfriend was afraid they'd retaliate.
Maybe I'll just wait to deal with them when I get back.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Saturday, March 21, 2009
My Journey Begins ...
I had to show off this awesome mug my sister sent me for Christmas. She got it from Starbucks.
Preaching to the streets
I made my traditional weekly trip to the farmer's market, but instead of ZZ Top guy, standing outside was a group of well-dressed men. Interesting in this crummy, rundown town. But then I noticed one was standing by the street and talking. I thought maybe he was talking to someone in a car up ahead of me, but no. When I drove by I realized he was preaching ... to the street!
He was wearing a gray Members Only jacket and holding a small, black book, which I assume was the Bible but it could've been the Book of Mormon or something, and he was reading from it at the top of the lungs as cars passed by.
The gentlemen behind him were just standing around talking, but were all wearing suits, and at their feet were a couple of suitcases.
Maybe they were traveling preachers, don't know. Wasn't really interested in finding out.
Apparently they disrupted ZZ Top guy's day, but they also were scaring all the old people. I saw a white-haired couple walking from the parking lot suddenly doubletime it when they caught sight of the preachers. Didn't think folks that age could move that fast.
He was wearing a gray Members Only jacket and holding a small, black book, which I assume was the Bible but it could've been the Book of Mormon or something, and he was reading from it at the top of the lungs as cars passed by.
The gentlemen behind him were just standing around talking, but were all wearing suits, and at their feet were a couple of suitcases.
Maybe they were traveling preachers, don't know. Wasn't really interested in finding out.
Apparently they disrupted ZZ Top guy's day, but they also were scaring all the old people. I saw a white-haired couple walking from the parking lot suddenly doubletime it when they caught sight of the preachers. Didn't think folks that age could move that fast.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Attack of the Snuggie
Who knew that an ubiquitous backwards bathrobe would become a cultural icon for the routinely drunk.
The Snuggie, that denizen of late night infomercials that seems to have taken off and shown up, sometimes uninvited, into American living rooms has been embraced in ways that grandma couldn’t have imagined when she first made that purchase call.
Whoever came up with this ridiculous, yet useful, garment is probably cheering in their basement workshop after they saw last week’s sudden onslaught of articles about events across the nation encouraging bar patrons to sign up and wear the monk style robe to a weekend tour of local bars.
Certainly one never to turn down a chance at harmless fun, for some reason I draw the line at the Snuggie. Something about it smacks of an attempt to pretend you’re not too lazy to put on another sweater or wear the right clothes. While useful when you can’t afford to turn your heat up, as my boyfriend says something about it smacks of an attempt to pretend you haven’t just escaped from a mental hospital by turning your robe backwards.
Oddly, before I found out about this snuggled up booze fest, I had turned down, for the second time, an attempt by my boyfriend’s mom to offload her Snuggie on me. She keeps her heat very low and I sometimes wonder if this is not an effort to get us to don the ridiculous robe.
Then today I saw in AgencySpy the announcement of the Snuggie Pub Crawl. The supposedly unofficial event already has 4,361 signed up and claims to be giving money from the event to an orphanage in Tanzania. More than 4,000 crawling from pub to pub in New York? Sounds like a possible riot to me.
But the pub crawl apparently isn’t confined to greater Manhattan. Chicago will also hold one, and unlike the NYC version gives details before it demands you sign up. There are also in D.C., Seattle, San Fransico, Detroit, Denver, all but Philadelphia, though I’m sure the coverage this is likely to receive from a press desperate for young readers may change that.
Question is, is this truly and independent thing? AgencySpy claims it is. But I could think of nothing better for sales than a gimmick such as this.
But honestly, who wants to be drunkenly traipsing around in a Snuggie through the gross streets of gritty cities. I can’t imagine what the hem of these long blanket robes will pick up. Though I doubt the crowds of frat minded men wearing them really plan to keep them for those cold nights on the couch.
Whether the NYC event manages to keep its pub crawl date quiet or not, I guarantee not so great videos will show up on YouTube, but I very much doubt this will hurt the Snuggie’s reputation. It might actually make it the most popular garment to bring to college in the fall, creating at least one money maker in this dire economy.
I’m just wondering how it’s going to look as police beat back blue and red Snuggie wearing, drunken patrons of packed bars. And will it still be cold in April?
And what will happen if you show up for the crawl without a Snuggie? Already, the Chicago event was pushed back "to allow for additional
time for our guests to acquire their Snuggies™ and for the bars to
prepare for our volume."
The Snuggie, that denizen of late night infomercials that seems to have taken off and shown up, sometimes uninvited, into American living rooms has been embraced in ways that grandma couldn’t have imagined when she first made that purchase call.
Whoever came up with this ridiculous, yet useful, garment is probably cheering in their basement workshop after they saw last week’s sudden onslaught of articles about events across the nation encouraging bar patrons to sign up and wear the monk style robe to a weekend tour of local bars.
Certainly one never to turn down a chance at harmless fun, for some reason I draw the line at the Snuggie. Something about it smacks of an attempt to pretend you’re not too lazy to put on another sweater or wear the right clothes. While useful when you can’t afford to turn your heat up, as my boyfriend says something about it smacks of an attempt to pretend you haven’t just escaped from a mental hospital by turning your robe backwards.
Oddly, before I found out about this snuggled up booze fest, I had turned down, for the second time, an attempt by my boyfriend’s mom to offload her Snuggie on me. She keeps her heat very low and I sometimes wonder if this is not an effort to get us to don the ridiculous robe.
Then today I saw in AgencySpy the announcement of the Snuggie Pub Crawl. The supposedly unofficial event already has 4,361 signed up and claims to be giving money from the event to an orphanage in Tanzania. More than 4,000 crawling from pub to pub in New York? Sounds like a possible riot to me.
But the pub crawl apparently isn’t confined to greater Manhattan. Chicago will also hold one, and unlike the NYC version gives details before it demands you sign up. There are also in D.C., Seattle, San Fransico, Detroit, Denver, all but Philadelphia, though I’m sure the coverage this is likely to receive from a press desperate for young readers may change that.
Question is, is this truly and independent thing? AgencySpy claims it is. But I could think of nothing better for sales than a gimmick such as this.
But honestly, who wants to be drunkenly traipsing around in a Snuggie through the gross streets of gritty cities. I can’t imagine what the hem of these long blanket robes will pick up. Though I doubt the crowds of frat minded men wearing them really plan to keep them for those cold nights on the couch.
Whether the NYC event manages to keep its pub crawl date quiet or not, I guarantee not so great videos will show up on YouTube, but I very much doubt this will hurt the Snuggie’s reputation. It might actually make it the most popular garment to bring to college in the fall, creating at least one money maker in this dire economy.
I’m just wondering how it’s going to look as police beat back blue and red Snuggie wearing, drunken patrons of packed bars. And will it still be cold in April?
And what will happen if you show up for the crawl without a Snuggie? Already, the Chicago event was pushed back "to allow for additional
time for our guests to acquire their Snuggies™ and for the bars to
prepare for our volume."
A hot little town
Bustling with green-clad students, the main street in Newark was alive Friday night as my boyfriend, his parents and I traveled to a hip restaurant named Homegrown. It was actually more hip than I thought his parents would like, with vibrantly colored walls and local artwork hanging for sale. Space-age style lighting hung down like fruit from the ceiling, small, globular and colorful.
I was prepared for eccentric, experimental cuisine that only certain palates might like, but was surprised by the seemingly main stream tastes that were accommodated. There on the drinks menu at the half-pear shaped bar surrounded by circular wood tables and chairs with X-shaped backs were the trendy pomegranate martini and Godiva chocolate shots.
I settled for a somewhat expensive Grasshopper martini, which was perfectly made to resemble the cookie, or for those of us with the memory Grasshopper pie. Though at $7 a glass (which had enough liqueur for two drinks), it was still cheaper than the coke and Jameson’s my boyfriend had been drinking the night before at a local St. Paddy’s day party in Bally, Pa.
After a few minutes we were led to our booth, which line the walls of this nicely sized establishment and were handed our menus on steel clipboards. Printed on antiqued paper, the offerings covered all price ranges and included the traditional salads and wraps, but with their own twists. A Green Apple wrap, for about $6.50, included chicken, green apples, cherries, walnuts, lettuce and tomato, and made note that all apples were organic and came from Lancaster County in Pa. Hmm, a taste of home in Maryland, or Delaware rather. Though tempted, I settled for the chicken bacon wrap, which had honey mustard dressing. My boyfriend ordered the lamb gyro, his father got the hanger steak and his mom the chicken mozzarella sandwhich.
We started off with some crap dip that was served with slices of French bread and green apple. I thought the apple might be an odd combination, but when I bit down on the tart slivers with a big swab of crap dip on them, the taste was fantastic. The tartness was enough to eliminate any fishiness the crap might have and accented the musky flavor of the meat. The sweet actually worked.
The wraps were fresh, fresher than I’d ever expect, which goes to show that quality ingredients can make something ordinary divine. The tomatoes were at the peak of freshness and the ingredients had been tossed in the dressing, versus the traditional deli style of glopping it on top like a glue.
My boyfriend said his gyro was great, though a bit garlicky, and his parents said they’d never been disappointed in their choices. The hanger steak came laid out in dial style on top of garlic potatoes. The mozzarella was piled thick on the chicken sandwhich.
Trendy this eatery certainly was with its mozzarella, which has become a craze in the U.S. after its explosion on the Italian scene with newly opened mozzarella bars, which only serve homemade versions of the cheese all on their own. For an appetizer we could have had a plate full of the homemade cheese balls. But eating it pure is definitely an acquired delight.
For desert we opted for the crème brule which was perfectly heated on top. (I’ve had it burnt before) and an apple flavored cheesecake, which my boyfriend’s parents sparred over. For those who didn’t like the options presented, there was a cupcake bar down the street. Though I don’t know how that craze will take off.
I’d heard about the rise of cupcake bars, which apparently offer gourmet versions of the grade school birthday treat, last year. This one, called Sas, announced its “spring collections” with what one of my colleagues described as “food porn” pictures in its windows. Apparently it caught on to eat cupcakes at a special café just like people choose to have their coffee, elevating something simple and cheap to a status object. This particular cupcake bar, which we did not frequent, had a plate glass window with a bar behind it that numerous female students had sidled up to. But inside there were not cases of cupcakes as I had expected. Instead it seemed to be making money of handmade purses, cupcake logo T-shirts and jewelry.
In the far corner was the small offering of cupcakes, which though pricey apparently don’t pay the rent.
It seemed a fixture in this college town that jewelry and other handmade goods were up for sale, despite the real purpose of the store or even restaurant. In the foyer of Homegrown there was a selection of unique, obviously locally made glittery things to wear, which struck me as odd to be the first thing that greeted us. Not a menu or pictures of food, but something you could buy real quick in case you didn’t feel made up enough. I wonder how they do with this.
But Newark is definitely a city worth visiting. Though if you don’t like the young crowd, it might make you a little uncomfortable. Luckily there weren’t drunken gangs carousing in the streets and puking everywhere. Though the night was still young when we headed out of town.
I would recommend knowing how to parallel park, though, if you drive in. Bring quarters for the meters, which are digital and can be paid for up to 3 hours. We managed to be seated and eat everything, including desert, before our two hours were up, and I credit the efficient wait staff for that.
For those who can’t afford to drop $30 or more a person, there are plenty of pizza shops, including a branch of Peace a Pizza and a Subway. There is a traditional steel train car style diner in town, but it was undergoing renovations when we were there.
I was prepared for eccentric, experimental cuisine that only certain palates might like, but was surprised by the seemingly main stream tastes that were accommodated. There on the drinks menu at the half-pear shaped bar surrounded by circular wood tables and chairs with X-shaped backs were the trendy pomegranate martini and Godiva chocolate shots.
I settled for a somewhat expensive Grasshopper martini, which was perfectly made to resemble the cookie, or for those of us with the memory Grasshopper pie. Though at $7 a glass (which had enough liqueur for two drinks), it was still cheaper than the coke and Jameson’s my boyfriend had been drinking the night before at a local St. Paddy’s day party in Bally, Pa.
After a few minutes we were led to our booth, which line the walls of this nicely sized establishment and were handed our menus on steel clipboards. Printed on antiqued paper, the offerings covered all price ranges and included the traditional salads and wraps, but with their own twists. A Green Apple wrap, for about $6.50, included chicken, green apples, cherries, walnuts, lettuce and tomato, and made note that all apples were organic and came from Lancaster County in Pa. Hmm, a taste of home in Maryland, or Delaware rather. Though tempted, I settled for the chicken bacon wrap, which had honey mustard dressing. My boyfriend ordered the lamb gyro, his father got the hanger steak and his mom the chicken mozzarella sandwhich.
We started off with some crap dip that was served with slices of French bread and green apple. I thought the apple might be an odd combination, but when I bit down on the tart slivers with a big swab of crap dip on them, the taste was fantastic. The tartness was enough to eliminate any fishiness the crap might have and accented the musky flavor of the meat. The sweet actually worked.
The wraps were fresh, fresher than I’d ever expect, which goes to show that quality ingredients can make something ordinary divine. The tomatoes were at the peak of freshness and the ingredients had been tossed in the dressing, versus the traditional deli style of glopping it on top like a glue.
My boyfriend said his gyro was great, though a bit garlicky, and his parents said they’d never been disappointed in their choices. The hanger steak came laid out in dial style on top of garlic potatoes. The mozzarella was piled thick on the chicken sandwhich.
Trendy this eatery certainly was with its mozzarella, which has become a craze in the U.S. after its explosion on the Italian scene with newly opened mozzarella bars, which only serve homemade versions of the cheese all on their own. For an appetizer we could have had a plate full of the homemade cheese balls. But eating it pure is definitely an acquired delight.
For desert we opted for the crème brule which was perfectly heated on top. (I’ve had it burnt before) and an apple flavored cheesecake, which my boyfriend’s parents sparred over. For those who didn’t like the options presented, there was a cupcake bar down the street. Though I don’t know how that craze will take off.
I’d heard about the rise of cupcake bars, which apparently offer gourmet versions of the grade school birthday treat, last year. This one, called Sas, announced its “spring collections” with what one of my colleagues described as “food porn” pictures in its windows. Apparently it caught on to eat cupcakes at a special café just like people choose to have their coffee, elevating something simple and cheap to a status object. This particular cupcake bar, which we did not frequent, had a plate glass window with a bar behind it that numerous female students had sidled up to. But inside there were not cases of cupcakes as I had expected. Instead it seemed to be making money of handmade purses, cupcake logo T-shirts and jewelry.
In the far corner was the small offering of cupcakes, which though pricey apparently don’t pay the rent.
It seemed a fixture in this college town that jewelry and other handmade goods were up for sale, despite the real purpose of the store or even restaurant. In the foyer of Homegrown there was a selection of unique, obviously locally made glittery things to wear, which struck me as odd to be the first thing that greeted us. Not a menu or pictures of food, but something you could buy real quick in case you didn’t feel made up enough. I wonder how they do with this.
But Newark is definitely a city worth visiting. Though if you don’t like the young crowd, it might make you a little uncomfortable. Luckily there weren’t drunken gangs carousing in the streets and puking everywhere. Though the night was still young when we headed out of town.
I would recommend knowing how to parallel park, though, if you drive in. Bring quarters for the meters, which are digital and can be paid for up to 3 hours. We managed to be seated and eat everything, including desert, before our two hours were up, and I credit the efficient wait staff for that.
For those who can’t afford to drop $30 or more a person, there are plenty of pizza shops, including a branch of Peace a Pizza and a Subway. There is a traditional steel train car style diner in town, but it was undergoing renovations when we were there.
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