Beer and Potatoes

My cross-country travel-blog continues from Bozeman, MT.

I started the day in Salt Lake City, where I downed a couple of fine beers before crashing early last night.  Yes, you can buy real beer in Salt Lake, and the microbreweries there are quite good.  I sampled a tasty porter from Wasatch and ales from Unita, Desert Edge and Hoppers.  Utah still has fairly strict alcohol laws.  In state-run wine stores, you can only buy "near-beer" (3.5% alcohol), but in taverns and restaurants, full-strength beer in all its glory is available.  I was happy to find a collection of microbreweries I had neither tried nor heard of.

I made a quick stop on the shores of the Great Salt Lake, the magnificent body of water you see above.  Then, I spud northward to Idaho.  I realize Idaho is known for its potatoes, but I didn't think it would look like them.  The hills around Pocatello resemble giant potatoes with chives sprinkled on them.  Take a look!  Otherwise, southeastern Idaho isn't much to write home about.  But as you get closer to Montana and Wyoming, the terrain changes in spectacular ways.

I won't make it to the Grand Tetons this trip, but you can see them off in the distance of this photo.  Even from far away, they look HUGE.  I stopped briefly in West Yellowstone, the gateway to the national park.  I chose not to stay there because it is swamped with tourists and insanely expensive for what you get.  Instead, I tacked on an hour or so and headed even further north to Bozeman, a rugged, outdoorsy place -- home to Montana State University and lots of rodeo.  I feel like I'm driving a toy car around here.  At every stoplight, I see a truck that is bigger than the biggest truck I've ever seen.  These aren't trucks.  They are TRUCKS.

I've been doing a lot of driving (1300+ miles in 3 days).  Seeing America like that gives it a different perspective than if you stay over in one place for a couple of days.  If you keep moving, you feel how distinctive each state is, and how they bleed together into one enormous country.  The reddish crags of Nevada and Arizona give way to the blue and green peaks of Utah, which roll into the yellow and brown potato hills of Idaho, which give way to the cedar and pine forests of Montana.  It's a visual rollercoaster -- albeit a really, really long and slow one.

I passed through a bit of Yellowstone, and I can already tell it's a special place.  The fly fisherman were wading into the quiet streams, while further north, bus loads of whitewater rafters were tackling the rapids.  The forests are breathtaking.  I can't wait to see more of it tomorrow.

Today's soundtrack included Johnny Cash, The Jayhawks, Jay Nash, Keith Wasserman, Kings of Leon and KT Tunstall among others. 

Yes, it was hot enough for me

I've started my journey across America, and it began with a new low point in my life -- the lowest point in North America, in fact.  I left LA yesterday and headed for Death Valley, one of the few major sites in California I hadn't seen.  I'm fascinated by extremes, and Death Valley has two of them -- heat and (a lack of) elevation.  As I descended into the valley, my car thermometer kept rising.  I drove down, down, down until I felt like I was going under the earth.  But I kept driving down, down, down until I reached Badwater Basin, 283 feet below sea level, where the temperature was 117 degrees.

In the South, people say the heat feels like an oven.  Here it's more like a blast furnace.  In Hell.  You actually have to pass through Hell's Gate to get into the national park. The photo on the left is the Devil's Golf Course, where if you played even 9 holes, you'd probably be dead.  Down here, it really feels like you're at the bottom of the world with the weight of the planet (and the sun) pressing down on you.  What a super fun national park!

I walked out on the salt flat which covers the basin, but I only stayed long enough to get a French tourist to snap a photo.  This isn't a park for dilly-dallying, unless you've always wanted to be a raisin.  I saw one woman who looked like she had rubbed her face with Crisco and laid down on the salt flat for an hour.  Scary!  I quickly bolted for the comfort of an air-conditioned car and made my way to Rhyolite, Nevada -- population zero.

Once upon a time, Rhyolite was a booming mining town.  Today, there isn't much, except rattlesnakes and ghosts.  I imagined what it must've been like back in the day as I strolled through the ruins of the bank, the general store and other buildings.  This part of Nevada is extremely desolate.  What am I saying?  The entire state of Nevada is extremely desolate except for Reno and Vegas.  The driving gets pretty painful when the only sights on the roadside are prisons.

I eventually made it to Vegas, where I stayed at the Imperial Palace.  Back in the day, this place might've been dope, but now it's just for people who like to kick it truly old-school or unemployed people traveling across America who want to pay $28 a night.  It's kind of a dump, but it's also right across from Caesar's Palace.

Vegas is the only place I know where you need a GPS system to navigate indoors.  I mean, have you ever tried to get out of Caesar's Palace?  This is the 2nd time I've gotten lost in the bowels of that casino, despite my determination this time to avoid such a fate.  What else can I say about Vegas?  It's the best people-watching in the world.  The elevator doors opened to reveal three gentlemen speaking Danish, I believe.  The scrawniest one of them was wearing:  A straw cowboy hat, cowboy boots, shorts and a cut-off t-shirt that said MUSCLE BEACH.  Take a moment to imagine that.  When the doors closed, everyone giggled.  Poor guy.  He probably thought he was being a cool American.

I left Vegas this morning after playing a few spins of Russian Roulette. Hey, I like to live on the edge. I guess more accurately, I sat at a Roulette table where all the other players were people from Russia.  And come to think of it, there were guns involved.  The dealer kept bragging about his collection of Russian firearms and wanted to know the intricate details of weapons regulations in Russia.  The Russians just nodded and put their chips on black.

Today, I drove though Utah to Salt Lake City.  Utah is gorgeous.  The expansive sky and prairies and the ever-changing mountains create a state of melancholy exhilaration in which you can legally drive 80 mph.  When you come over the crest of highway 15 into Provo, the Rockies soar into view.  Awesome.  Three names I always enjoy -- Marvin, Thelma and Provo.

I'm sure somebody will get that movie reference.  I passed a lot of people with motorcycles.  I imagine they're heading up to Sturgis, South Dakota for the insane motorcycle rally they have every year.  It kind of put a crimp in my plans.  I was going to stay in Rapid City, SD, but thanks to Sturgis, the cheapest motels in Rapid City, SD are going for $300 a night!  I can stay four stars in Beverly Hill for less than that.  I'm sure thousands and thousands of Harleys would be a sight to behold, but I'm planning to skip that whole traffic nightmare.

Tomorrow, off to Bozeman, MT.  In case you're interested, the official soundtrack to my journey across American includes:  Hayes Carll, Son Volt, Wilco, Ryan Adams, Griffith House, Leonard Cohen and Bob Dylan.  Songs available on Itunes.

10 things I will (or won't) miss about LA

My time in Los Angeles grows short.  Next week, I shall bid the City of Angels farewell after six years.

When I was younger, I remember thinking I would never live in LA.  It just sounded like a place I would hate.  As if to prove a point about assumptions, life brought me here.

Los Angeles is like an itchy sweater.  The first time you put it on, it drives you crazy. But over time, you get used to it.  Wear it enough, and it might even become one of your favorite sweaters.

1.  California.  California is the most geographically diverse, awe-inspiring state in the country.  From the snowy peaks of the Sierra Nevadas to the only-god-could-create-these Redwood trees to wine country to Death Valley to Big Sur to Santa Barbara to Del Mar, California is home to many of the America's most exquisite places.  I will miss them all.

2.  Strange encounters of the celebrity kind.   I have:

Had Robin Williams buy me a drink (before rehab).

Peed next to Keanu Reeves.

Passed Scarlett Johansson on a hike.  Woah mama!

Shot the breeze with Woody Harrelson and Joaquin Phoenix.

Talked to Bobby Brown for half an hour and didn't know who he was (I mean, have you seen the guy lately?).

My buddy and I used to have weekly get-togethers with "Gunther" and his real Friends.

These things don't happen anywhere else, and while they don't make you a better person, they make a regular day a little more interesting.

My favorite run-ins were always with actors who played really small roles in one movie, and no one I knew could figure it out.  I have a weird tick that makes me remember stuff like that, so I'd usually be the only person in the bar who knew who they were.  I won several bets this way.  One of my favorite actors, Paul Schneider, lived a few doors down from me, and I didn't know it until I saw him moving out.  Damn it.

3.  The burgers.  Without a doubt, LA is the burger capital of the world.  The Bowery. Father's Office.  In-N-Out.  The Tommy Burger. The Oinkster.  Whether you're in the mood for a $14 gourmet slab on an English muffin or want to kick it animal-style at the In-N-Out, you'll find no shortage of fantastic cows on bread.  If I was on death row, my last meal would be a Bowery Burger.  If I have one more of them, I might be dead anyway.

4.  Dodger dogs.  I spent my entire childhood a Dodger fan, even though I'd never set foot in LA. My dad was a Brooklyn Dodgers fan, and by age six, I was a Dodger blue blood.  When I arrived in LA 30 years later, I made a beeline for Dodger Stadium and have spent many a glorious night there since.  Oh, Dodger dog, with your grilled perfectness and your mustard and your onions, how I will miss you.

5.  The people.  Angelinos have a reputation for being plastic -- their skin, their boobs, their personalities.  But that's only one clique in a county of 10 million people.  Most folks here are delightful, humble and genuine.  They're diverse, creative and intelligent.  Of course, most of them are from somewhere else, but I digress.  At various times (usually when I was living like a hermit on the overnight shift), I swore I hated this town, but the people I met always turned me around on that.

6.  The weather.  My first couple of years in LA, I whined like the East Coaster that I was:

I miss the seaaaasons.

Whatever.

Just about this entire month, it's been 70-something during the day.  It's JULY!  The nights are cool no matter what month it is, there's virtually no humidity, and it rains 17 minutes a year.  I do still miss the crisp of Fall and trees that don't have fronds on them (the seaaaasons), but I'm now spoiled by the fact that my plans never get ruined because of the weather.  They get ruined because of...

7.  The traffic.  You can't just call someone up and say -- hey, wanna grab a drink?  You have to plan that shit in advance.  A week is usually good.  Maybe you can leave on a Saturday and get there in time to meet them on Sunday. Once, I was four hours late to an appointment across town because of traffic.
It's true.  And you haven't experienced driver angst until you've had to cross six lanes within a quarter mile to get to the correct freeway, and the cars in the lane you're trying to get to are crossing six lanes to get to your lane.  Who designed this city?  Dyslexic sadomasochists?

8.  The movie theaters.  They're just badass. It's Hollywood, baby.  At the Arclight, the movie starts on time every time.  A "host" introduces the film.  And everything is always perfect, or they will fix it.  Mann's Chinese and the Vista make you feel like you're in a 1930's playhouse. The theaters are enormous and adorned with the most elaborate decoration.  These aren't your run-of-the-mill shopping center theaters with a shoe store next door.

9.  My 'hood.  Choosing the right neighborhood is crucial here.  You're basically stuck there unless you want to live in your car.  While the west side has all the glitz and glamour, I prefer the eastern edge of Hollywood.  It's grittier, but we can walk to just about anything, including the largest urban park in America.  It's the neighborhood where Swingers was shot.  You're like a big bear, man.  I will miss nights at The Dresden, hanging with Marty and Elayne.

10.  The Time Zone.  After living on the East Coast and waiting 'til 1:00 pm for the first football game to start or staying up 'til 1:00 am for Monday Night Football to mercifully end (always mercifully when the Bills were playing), I was not prepared for the absolute sports nirvana of the Pacific Time Zone.  Beer at 9:30?  4:00 hockey games?  Are you kidding me?  My football buddies, we tried to establish the no-beer-before-noon rule every Sunday.  And every Sunday, we failed miserably -- much to our delight.

Alas, I am leaving you, LA.  You introduced me to my wife (thanks, but I'm taking her with me).  You made me appreciate you in ways I never thought I would.  I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome.  You can be pretty exhausting.  There were days when the air would make me throw up.  You need to work on that.  There were days when I wanted to abandon my car on the freeway.  There were days when I simply could not listen to another story about someone trying to be an actor.

But overall, I will say good things about you back East, even if no one believes me.

My personal documentary festival

Sometimes, I just get in the mood to carpet-bomb my TV with documentaries from Netflix.  I've spent the past couple weeks screening a random assortment of them.  If you're a doc hound like me, perhaps you'll want to catch some of these:

Yellowstone: Battle for Life ***** This is, quite simply, the best nature documentary I've ever seen.  In this three-part series, the BBC follows the wildlife in Yellowstone National Park for an entire year.  The cinematography is breathtaking.  The writing is superb.  The production team gets so close to the wolves, bison, elk and other animals, their struggle for survival is fantastically vivid.  I can't recommend this one enough. 

Crazy Love **1/2 A disturbing look at two disturbed people -- New York attorney Burt Pugach and his, uh, lover Linda Riss.  When Burt realizes he can't have Linda, he hires thugs to throw lye in her face, blinding her for life.  The story doesn't end there, of course.  For the sake of my faith in people, I wish it had.  This pair makes the guests on the Jerry Springer Show seem rational and functional.  The story evokes a morbid fascination, but I certainly wouldn't watch it twice.

Radio Bikini **** This Academy Award-nominated doc uses footage from 1946 to tell the story of an American nuclear bomb test in the central Pacific.  The government chooses the Bikini Atoll in the Marshall Islands as its test site and tells the residents that their evacuation is for the good of all mankind.  What happens after the two bombs are set off has to be seen to be believed, and the reveal at the end of the story is so devastating, I can't put it into words.  Any shred of trust you might have in our government will be obliterated.

A Program About Unusual Buildings and Other Roadside Stuff *** The title pretty much says it all -- a house shaped like a shoe, an upside-down building, a hot dog-shaped hot dog stand.  Only in America.  This PBS show is charming enough, although for the most part, I don't understand the obsession some people have for things like a giant ketchup bottle.  I now have a strong desire to visit the Corn Palace in South Dakota, though.  

Encounters at the End of the World **** I've always enjoyed Werner Herzog's documentaries because they're never predictable.  As he embarks on a trip to Antarctica, Herzog explains that this will not be another documentary about fluffy penguins.  And it certainly isn't.  Herzog takes us inside the lives of the quirky researchers who call the South Pole their home and inside tiny worlds filled with unimaginable creatures.  It's pretty astonishing stuff.  The film drags on a bit, and there's nothing warm and fuzzy about the conclusions Herzog reaches concerning the fate of humanity, but it's thought-provoking and fascinating for the most part.

Where Are All the UFOs? **** This History Channel doc traces the origin of UFO sightings back to a military pilot in the 1940's.  It's more a study of human nature than anything else, especially when it comes to alien abduction stories.  Our brains can really do a number on us.  If you believe the past 70 years have been filled with real sightings of alien spacecraft and people being abducted and returned without a trace, I have a great oceanfront property in Nebraska to sell you.

When You're Strange *** I didn't learn that much about the Doors that I didn't already know, but it's kind of cool to see old footage of the real Jim Morrison, instead of watching Val Kilmer.

Volcanoes of the Deep Sea *** This film could use a re-edit as it's sometimes confusing, but it's worth watching solely for the chance to see what the world looks like 12,000 feet below the ocean's surface.  It's another planet down there, with creatures that thrive in water that is 700 degrees Fahrenheit.  I had no idea volcanoes were constantly erupting that far under water, destroying life and creating it simultaneously.

The 50 Worst Movies Ever Made **** I wouldn't call this a definitive list, but it's quite hilarious and entertaining.  It's also disturbing that human beings can create "art" that is so horribly wretched.

Horses:  The Story of Equus ** I love horses, so I had to see this, but I was pretty disappointed by the whole thing.  This IMAX film tells the story of three horses born on the same day at a stud farm in Australia.  The three of them wind up living very different lives, and while it's beautiful to watch horses run in the wild and at the racetrack, the film feels contrived.  It has a reenactment quality that you'd expect from a show about cold murder cases.  I'd rather watch Seabiscuit again.

I'm always on the hunt for new documentaries, so if you have any recommendations, I'm all ears!

How to open wine with your shoe

If you've ever been stuck without a corkscrew, the French have come up with a failsafe way to open a wine bottle.  Take a look.  

I've gotta try that over the weekend.  I have to know whether it fails or is remotely safe.

The video comes from Wimp.com.  If you haven't seen perused it yet, check out these gems as well:

Amazing soccer girl.  Wow.  But can she shoot?

Ipad magic show.  Look, I know the Ipad has a lot of features, but good lord.

Putting a vuvuzela in a blender.  Wouldn't we all like to do that?

Playing the national anthem on a baseball bat.  Real or memorex?

Viva Espana!

I was wearing an orange jersey yesterday (my ancestry is part Dutch), but I actually enjoyed Spain's well-deserved win in the World Cup final.  

Throughout the tournament, Spain played with class, and its immense talent finally prevailed -- after many disappointing efforts in previous Cups.  The Dutch players tried to intimidate the more style-minded Spanish players with rough, physical play.  It almost worked, but Holland did not finish its chances to score, and finally, the Dutch nastiness resulted in a red card that put Holland down a man.  There should've been at least one other red card on a Dutch player -- that karate kick on Spain's Xabi Alonso was horrific.

The final was almost painful to watch, with too little scoring and too much violence, but overall South Africa was a good host, and the tournament was filled with exciting moments.

What else did we learn from this Cup?

1.  American sports fans CAN go crazy for soccer, at least every four years.

2.  The US team still has a ways to go before it might topple the likes of Brazil, Spain, Germany, Holland or Italy.  The US program has made gigantic strides in the past two decades, but taking things to that next level will not be easy.  Landon Donovan is an excellent player, but he is no David Villa, Kaka or Diego Forlan.  The US needs a player of that calibre to seriously threaten.

3.  The World Cup needs goal-line technology to determine whether the ball crosses the line.  But video replay is not the answer for soccer.  The game was designed with no timeouts, and it should stay that way.  Video replays on offsides and fouls would open a box of problems that would ruin the game.  Yesterday's game would've been six hours long had they stopped to examine the validity or seriousness of fouls and offsides calls.

4.  Having said that, FIFA needs to reexamine its system for officiating.  I don't know what the solution is, but the number of missed calls and the horrible inconsistency with issuing yellow and red cards really stood out in a negative way.  

5.  That German Octupus is one smart cephalopod mollusk. 

After my trip to the 2006 World Cup in Germany, it took me several weeks to come down from that high.  The 2010 Cup seemed so far away.  But it came way too fast for my liking.  I plan to enjoy all the days from now until the 2014 Cup in Brazil because it will be here before I know it.

Paella vs Grolsche

Yummm.  For some reason, I'm craving a big old plate of seafood and an ice cold beer in a green bottle.

I guess it's because Spain and Holland are in the World Cup finals!  

It's hard to complain about that result.  It's a matchup of the two best teams to have never won a Cup and two teams with attacking flair.  It's a matchup of food vs beer. Cathedrals vs windmills.  Sandals vs wooden shoes.

Can't wait for Sunday!

I may have to go Dutch

In all my years of watching the World Cup (since 1982!), I've pulled for only 3 teams. One is the United States of course.  The other two are the Netherlands and Germany, simply because it's in my blood.  Both my grandfathers were German.  One of my grandmothers was Dutch.

So, I could have one helluva conundrum come Sunday.  If Germany beats Spain (as I predict), it'll be Germany vs Holland in the final game.  What a final that would be.  But who do I pull for?

The Dutch have never won the World Cup, so that's a point in their favor.  It's always nice to see a country win its first Cup.  But I picked Germany to win the World Cup before it started, and it's always nice to be right.  So that's a point in Germany's favor.

In 1994, I partied with Dutch World Cup fans in Orlando.  In 2006, I partied with German World Cup fans in Germany.  I own a jersey from former Dutch player Rudy De Boer, but I also own a German national jersey.  My great grandmother's name was Von Hennihem.  There's a street in Berlin called Jagow Strasse.

Man, this is hard.  In horse racing, if you bet two different horses to win the same race, it's called "Dutching."  How appropriate.  

Spain could spoil the whole thing and beat Germany.  That would make it easy on me. With apologies to my Spanish friend Miguel, I'd have to be Dutching it all the way.

Seeing Orange

What I wouldn't give to be in Amsterdam tonight!

The Dutch must be partying hard after knocking the best team on the planet out of the World Cup.  What a thrilling game.

In the first half, Brazil looked almost unbeatable, as they have most of this tournament.  But early in the 2nd half, the Dutch leveled the score at 1-1 on a gaff by the Brazilian defense.  A few minutes later, Netherlands took the lead on beautiful header by Wesley Sneijder, a small but powerful player who's making a case for being MVP of the tournament.

Then it all started to fall apart for Brazil.  Brazilian midfielder Felipe Melo deservedly got red-carded for shoving his cleat into Arjen Robben's thigh. I don't blame Melo for getting frustrated.  Robben was a pain in the ass the entire game, flopping to the ground every 2 minutes.  But when you play for Brazil, composure's supposed to course through your veins.  Melo and his teammates lost control of their emotions and the game, 2-1.

The Dutch, meanwhile, haven't lost or even tied at this World Cup.  They are very likely to make the finals.  Somewhere in my closet is a Netherlands t-shirt from the '94 World Cup in Orlando.  I may have to dig that out and root for the Orange!  

Meanwhile, the bad blood is heating up between Germany and Argentina.  In the last World Cup, Germany eliminated the Argentines on penalty kicks in a game that ended with a bench-clearing kick-and-punch fest between the two sides.  This week, German player Bastian Schweinsteiger complained about Argentina's dirty tactics on the field, their constant whining to the referees and even the Argentine fans for sitting in seats that don't belong to them.  

Argentine manager Diego Maradona -- the former superstar alcoholic cokehead tax evader -- responded with his usual color:  "What's the matter, Schweinsteiger?  Are you nervoushhh?"

Only at the World Cup.  I won't miss a second of that game.

Horses, hats and hangovers

I'm full of jealousy today. Friends sent me pictures from their recent trip to Royal Ascot, the oldest horse race meeting in the world. They've held the five-day Royal meeting at Ascot Racecourse near London every June since 1768. The Kentucky Derby didn't come along for another 107 years!

Since I've never been to Ascot, I must live vicariously through my friends, Eve and Rico Gagliano. They were kind enough to send photos Rico took.

As Rico puts it, Royal Ascot is the most British thing EVER. A dress code is strictly enforced in certain areas of the stands. Ladies must wear a day dress of a minimum length. They will toss you out if your dress is too short. For the gentlemen, grey or black "morning dress" is required. And of course, a top hat. The ladies can wear just about any hat they please, even one that resembles a barbed-wire fence.

The etiquette authorities are full of suggestions for enjoying Ascot racing in a graceful manner: "Eating in public requires all private habits be closeted. Pace yourself, so neither hoover like a wolf nor pick like a sparrow. Bring food to your mouth rather than drop your head."

"Hangovers are generally self-inflicted, so you should approach the day after an evening's over-indulgence with stoicism, and keep your misery to yourself."

"A man should stand up to greet a woman when she first arrives. There is no need, however, to jump up and down like a jack in the box every time she enters or leaves the room."

Sounds like it might make for a pretty stuffy experience, but Rico says in the general admission section, The Silver Ring, it's much more relaxed. You can bring a picnic and beer and wine if you like. And people definitely do. During the meeting, Ascot attendees drink 170,000 bottles of champagne and 160,000 pints of beer. They eat 4 tons of beef and 10,000 lobsters!

The Royal Ascot meeting would not be Royal without you-know-who. Every day at 2pm, the Queen and other royal family members parade up the stretch in horse-drawn carriage.

One drunk Brit told Rico: "God bless her, Liz is the only lady in the nation who can pull off an entire outfit all the same color."

Drunken fashion critiques aside, there is some fantastic racing at Royal Ascot. One third of Britain's Grade 1 races (the highest level) for the year take place during the meeting. The highlight for me was probably Goldikova winning the Queen Anne Stakes. Goldikova is like the Zenyatta of Europe. I love watching this mare run. The past two years, she's flown over from France to dominate the Breeders' Cup Mile at Santa Anita Park. In the Queen Anne, she was the only female and as usual, she made the boys look silly.

Rico got a nice shot of the Albany Stakes, a race for two-year-old fillies, won my Memory. You'll notice the horses are running clockwise around the track, the opposite of racing in the US. Brits and Americans have to do everything the opposite way, don't they? Royal Ascot's course is also triangular instead of oval, and at a mile and 3/4, it's longer than any track in the United States (Belmont Park being the longest at a mile and 1/2).

To me, horses racing on grass is just about the prettiest thing in the world. Soon enough, I shall don my top hat and tails and make my way to Royal Ascot.

I promise not to hoover like a wolf or jump up and down like a jack in the box.

Especially if I have a hangover, which I shall keep to myself.