hot town, summer in the city

After another brief hiatus, I'm back, bitches. Well, "back" to the few of you who noticed my absence. Thanks for stroking my ego and warming the cockles of my heart. Or was that just the heat wave?

I've just returned from a long weekend in New York, which primarily revolved around sweating buckets and guzzling iced teas, but also featured several noteworthy guest appearances by friends accrued throughout various stages of my life.

Observations that are by no means revelatory in any way...

Sangria with this gal might not heal all wounds, but it doesn't hurt. Pret a Manger iced black tea with red fruits is probably one of the best remedies for surviving 100 degree weather. Realizing you've forgotten your book is a bummer-- until you pass the Strand kiosk on the SE corner of Central Park. 9 times out of 10, a dive bar with the right company will trump whatever's trendy-- especially if there's skee ball involved. Everything dies, baby that's a fact, but maybe it is better to bear the news of a deceased childhood pet in the presence of friends, Mexican food, and several midday Margaritas. Sometimes you need the friend who can break your stubbornness by saying trust me that it's too late for you to take the subway back alone, please get in a cab in a stern voice. Harry Potter exhibits are one of very few exceptions to the avoid-Times-Square-like-the-plague rule. The Lobby Bar at the Ace Hotel just might make a person want to spend an entire weekend afternoon studying. Being able to use walking as a means of transportation is a simple pleasure better appreciated after relying on a car for a long period of time-- though probably appreciated even more when the heat index isn't 110 degrees F.

Though I took no photographs, I can offer the following, taken by a friend in a Dingle diner (County Kerry, Ireland). Though I try to avoid behaving like a tourist while actually in the city, clearly I relish the opportunity to act like an NYC tourist in the Emerald Isle?

 

thanks, FregTK, for exposing me as the asshat I really am

Four years of July 4ths

Yesterday marked the first 4th of July that I have celebrated in America since 2007. Ergo, I thought I'd take a look back at where I've been during my last few fourths. (and try saying "few fourths" several times fast)

July 4, 2008 (Mt. Lykaion, Arcadia, Greece): Hey, at least there were sparklers. And a crop of Americans. And a balloon toss the following weekend. And nothing says Independence Day like a balloon toss! Same, same. Just a little different.

July 4, 2009 (Accra, Ghana): Two fellow Americans and I were treated to a nice lunch at a beachfront restaurant in the capital by our French NGO director (I'd unfortunately be gone before I could return the favor on Bastille Day). Obama was visiting in a few days, so there were unusually high numbers of American flags and pro-USA sentiments flying around the city. And lots of unnecessary road painting in the name of Barry O. So much unnecessary road painting. A bit less of an American 4th of July than the previous year.

July 4, 2010 (Kamakura and Tokyo, Japan): Though I had spent the previous few days with American friends, Independence Day itself marked my independence; I spent the day alone wandering the temples and shrines of Kamakura as a day trip from nearby Tokyo. On the return train, I was hit on by an American military man stationed in Tokyo, which was probably the most "American" part of my day. Definitely my least patriotic 4th of July to date.

July 4, 2011 (Washington, DC, USA): And then there was flag cake. Spending the holiday in the nation's capital, surrounded by friends and food, is definitely the best way to make up for lost time.

Photo Essay: Chesapeake Bay overnight excursion

As previously mentioned, not long after returning from Ireland, I was crewing a short sailing expedition on the Chesapeake Bay with an overnight in Annapolis and St. Michael's.

Here are a few shots from the trip:

(1&2 Annapolis City Dock at night; 3&4 a short spinnaker run down the Bay; 5&6 Hooper Straight Lighthouse and a restoration in progress at the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum in St. Michael's; 7 St. Michael's Marina; 8 leaving St. Michael's at sunrise)

New York bagels

If there is anything guaranteed to make you feel even more gross after a day of international travel, it is schlepping your luggage through the NYC subway in the summertime. Fact.

My gracious host for the night, guest blogger and frequent travel buddy, Julie, was kind enough to point out that I didn't exactly smell like roses after my 12 hours of travel that deposited me at Columbus Circle, fresh off the 1 train. Kinder still, she let me use her shower. What a friend.

But I ask you... how many things are better than waking up to a gorgeous morning in the Big Apple, feeling surprisingly not jet-lagged (though I have a feeling I may be speaking too soon), and walking a few blocks to get a fresh bagel with scallion cream cheese and lox? Definite points for America, my friends.

I'm back in action after over two weeks in Ireland that far exceeded my (already high) expectations. Over the next couple weeks I'll be detoxing (so much meat and Guinness!) and decompressing, revisiting the trip that took me through historically significant cities and breathtaking natural wonders, as a solo journey and in the company of old and new friends. This is also exciting for me, as it is my first time traveling internationally since starting Litterulae ab Mundano a few months ago. Like always, my appetite for travel has been whetted, but my wanderlust heart is left longing for more...

picture perfect: a relaxing long weekend at Lake George

We all know that the best laid plans can often go awry... and sometimes the plans that materialize in an act of spontaneity go off without a hitch. My Memorial Day weekend was an instance of the latter, with an invitation late Thursday sending me packing and hightailing it to Philadelphia the following morning to catch my ride to upstate New York for the holiday. My hostess was a friend and former roommate from university, Lauren, and her parents, who have a beautiful house on the northernmost tip of Lake George. Several of our friends had spent a wonderful weekend at the house last summer, which I regretfully missed due to a previous engagement (and by that I mean I was living in South Korea), and I was excited to finally get to see the place that my friends, and more importantly Lauren, always speak so fondly of. Maybe not equally important, but certainly pressing, was the need to unplug for a few days. I had spent far too much time in front of a computer screen during the previous few weeks (which might come as a surprise given the relative dearth of postings) and was eager to leave my laptop behind and turn off my cell phone. I read. I slept. I took in three wonderful days of fresh air. I went for a boat ride. I caught up with my friend and enjoyed the presence of her family in what certainly seems to be their collective happy place. I was spoiled by her mom's cooking. I powered down, slowed down, and caught up on the things I truly needed. And I thought I would be without plans for the Memorial Day weekend.

spring in Philly

Baltimore is currently plagued with dark skies and intermittent downpours, a perfect day to be confined indoors to catch up on work of both the scholarly and house variety. Last week, around this time, I was in the City of Brotherly love catching up with friends and enjoying the perfect weather at some of my favorite spots (UPenn campus, Philadelphia Zoo, Water Works/Art Museum area, Rittenhouse Square). This photograph was taken from the Spring Garden bridge over the Schuylkill River overlooking Boathouse Row (to the left) and the classical structures of the Fairmount Water Works (on the right). After crossing the bridge, I spent the next hour basking in the sun in the grass between the Water Works and the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Perfect, even with the unfortunate smudge of bird poop that my new dress sustained. With the deafening sound of raindrops now pounding on the roof, what I wouldn't give to be back in that moment!

happy Earth Day from some of the most beautiful places on the planet!

Chitwan National Park, Terai Region, Nepal

fields near Egeskov Castle, Funen, Denmark

Lake Champlain, Adirondacks, New York, USA

Arcadia, Greece

Manla Reservoir, Tibet

dawn near Great Smoky Mountains National Park, Tennessee, USA

sunrise over Sargamatha (Mt. Everest) and neighboring Himalayan peaks from Kala Pattar, Sargamatha National Park, Nepal

*please don't use my photos without asking/crediting me!

local spotlight: The Dogwood (Baltimore)

image via

Tonight, I once again had the pleasure of dining at The Dogwood in Baltimore's Hampden neighborhood.  The Dogwood's menu is in a state of constant evolution, as they utilize local, seasonal ingredients where possible, which is part of the excitement of dropping in about once a month or two-- you never know what you'll find on the menu (and thus far it seems like you cannot go wrong).  A few mouthwatering constants do remain, however, like bookends on your meal: fresh baked Irish soda bread with mango butter to commence dining (baked during the day, so not available for the lunchtime crowd- yes, we found that out the sad way) and the best carrot cake I've ever had, chock full of nuts and raisins and finished with a rich orange cream cheese icing, to wrap things up.  Formerly closed Mondays, The Dogwood has recently opened for business with a Monday (Funday?) prix fixe dinner option with or without wine pairings.  Though wine pairings are always tempting, it wasn't a dinner for lingering, and so I remained a Sober Sally.  I did, however, take advantage of the prix fixe, opting for a beet salad with Cherry Glen Farm's chevre, rainbow trout over a four grain pilaf with red grapes, cranberries, almonds, and sauteed mushrooms, and to top it all off-- you guessed it-- the to-die-for carrot cake.  BB went for salad and soup-- a sweet and spicy chana masala lentil-- and helped pick at my meal.  Guess who gets yummy trout and carrot cake leftovers tomorrow night?!  We should have probably known better than to inhale the bread and butter, but fresh after our 90 minute sweat sesh all reason had been abandoned.  It is too freakin' good to handle with any sort of restraint.

Dining for a cause:

In addition to their commitment to using a variety of local and seasonal ingredients, The Dogwood is commendable for their mission:

"The Dogwood’s social mission is to transform lives one plate at a time by providing training opportunity and paid employment to individuals who are transitioning from addiction, incarceration, homelessness, and/or underemployment.

Our restaurant is a social business that pursues the double bottom line: financial return on investment and social return through transformed lives. The Dogwood provides intensive, professional paid training to a small class of individuals who are working to better their lives. Their training is supported through business revenues. Our servers, food runners, and chefs are all learners and instructors, working to become exemplary professionals in the culinary and hospitality arts. They are eager to talk to you about our training program."

Good food, good cause-- that's something I can always get behind.

(check it out: http://www.dogwoodbaltimore.com/)

requisite biweekly shark post with a side of dog meat and ethical dilemmas

Kind of joking.  I never intended to post this frequently (now 3 times in 6 weeks?) about the cartilaged creatures, but here I am again (sort of... this post actually evolved to have almost nothing to do with sharks).

Galding posted an article yesterday using California's proposed ban on shark finning (a practice I previously mentioned here) as a launching point for a discussion of the global politics of culinary delicacies, which made me think a bit about my own experiences with food and culture abroad and at home.  The author raises the question of how to strike a balance between wildlife conservation/ethical food production and the preservation of culture.  While shark finning is a gruesome practice that for me is hard to justify with the argument that shark fin soup is integral to Chinese culture, there are other dishes that might not seem "ethical" to many "Westerners" that I have no problem with.  The author writes, "The Philippines has long been under fire for its mistreatment of dogs destined for the dinner table. I don't condone animal cruelty in any form (which is why I want to see gavage [sic]), yet we must also realize that pets are not a traditional part of that culture."  Just to clarify, the Philippines outlawed the eating of dog meat in 1998.  Though there is an underground market for it, most younger Filipinos did not grow up eating dog meat and think of dogs only as pets.  I'm really curious though as to what extent the doggie legislation came about through Western influences-- something that reminds me of a very similar issue in South Korea.

In Seoul, the capital city of South Korea, the sale of dog meat has been illegal since 1984, though the law is barely enforced and one doesn't have to look too hard to find dog meat in the city's traditional markets or in restaurants specializing in 개고기 (Gaegogi aka dog meat).  Hell, it took me less than a week of living in Korea to see my first frozen Fido.  Lindsey, my co-worker leaned in to warn me, you know some people here eat dog, right?  Moments later we passed a large dog in its entirety on ice-- and nowhere special, this was just the market closest to my home and workplace.  Many older Koreans continue to consume dog meat from time to time (especially men-- for stamina, of course!), but far fewer of the younger sect eat it with any regularity and many refuse to eat it at all on the same grounds as most Americans-- dogs are pets, not food.  But where did this shift in perception come from?  I'm willing to bet that most of the men that passed the law back in the mid-80's are part of the crowd that still visits their favorite gaegogi joint from time to time for "stamina soup."  If you remember correctly, Seoul played host to the Summer Olympic Games in 1988.  In talking to older Koreans (one of the distinct advantages of teaching English to adults), I learned a bit more about the historical state of dog meat affairs.  Apparently, in the years leading up to the Olympics, the government tried to phase out the selling of dog meat-- or at least run it underground-- in an attempt to appease the international (read: Western) community and shed the label of "backwards society that eats dogs."  At this point in time, South Korea was beginning to show significant signs of recovery from decades of poverty following the Korean War and was naturally eager to showcase its progress to the world during the upcoming Olympic Games.  They didn't need to be torn apart in the Western media for their culinary practices when their opportunity to become a bigger global player was on the line.  And so the visibility of dog meat quickly faded, and the practice has since steadily declined.

 Side note: I am Olympic Fanatic.

Is it fair?  What surprised me most upon seeing a full dog on ice in the market was its size and build  This clearly was not someone's pet; it was an animal bred specifically for one purpose: human consumption.  In Korean, these dogs are known as 누렁이 (Nureongi) and 황구 (Hwangu), clearly distinguishing them from the type of "dogs" that are considered pets.  For many, that still doesn't make it right, but I don't think you can point the finger at Asian communities for centuries of domesticating dogs as livestock while innocently consuming beef or chicken that comes from American slaughterhouses.  Cows are sacred to the Hindu community, and it is illegal to kill a cow in Nepal and most Indian states, yet Americans consume an average of 67 lbs of beef per year.  If the 1.4 billion people of India and Nepal got together and decided to vilify Americans for their consumption of cows, what would the response be?  Many people would probably laugh at the audacity of the two South Asian countries for suggesting such a thing.  So why does the West get to decide what is globally acceptable at the dinner table? (and I ask that with regard to food production only and issues of conservation aside-- as I do think it is important that global measures are being taken to protect threatened and endangered species)

So what is my personal philosophy on food, culture, and ethics?

I absolutely draw the line at threatened or endangered species, especially when many of them are killed not for survival, but for sale as delicacies, often wasting most of the edible parts of the animal and leaving them to die a cruel death, the way sharks are definned and then thrown back in the ocean to perish.  As a somewhat recent fish consumer, I'm working to become more knowledgeable about sustainable fishing, as I would like to get the occasional super dose of omega-3's without contributing to the destruction of our fragile ocean ecosystems. 

After that, the lines are hazy.  I have been trying to become a more conscious consumer.  For both health and ethical reasons, I eat significantly less meat than I did in the past, and when possible make more responsible decisions when it comes to the source of my food.  My personal decision not to become vegetarian or vegan has a lot to do with culture as well as the belief that one doesn't have to go to extremes to be more responsible or make a statement.  

First off, culture.  Anyone who tries to convince me that food is not an integral part of culture will ultimately fail.  We experience the world through our perception of sensory details, and what, other than the experience of eating and drinking truly uses all of our senses?  If you think back upon your childhood, how many memories feature food to some degree?  If you've traveled, can you honestly say that the experience yielded no culinary memories?  Travel has become a huge part of who I am and I would be remiss to claim that food is of no importance to my appreciation of different cultures.  Whether this means enjoying a buttery fresh baked croissant early in the morning while ambling through the streets of Paris or eating raw octopus on the Yeongmeori coastline of Jeju-do straight from the haenyeo (traditional female free-diver) who caught it, I don't want to limit my experience through a narrow definition of what constitutes acceptable food.  But there is also another, more direct cultural experience that concerns me.  At many times over the past year, I have been a guest at the dinner table, experiences that I am overwhelmingly grateful for and that rank as some of my fondest memories of time spent abroad.  Aside from wanting to be polite and try everything offered, there have been times when the meal I have been served as a guest is considerably more expensive than what the host would normally cook-- how can I possibly eschew the relatively expensive chicken that I am being served on ethical grounds knowing that my gracious host will go back to a diet of rice and lentils for weeks to compensate?  I just can't.  When my host has her husband go miles out of the way to pick up special curd from another town for dessert, how do I refuse it and explain that I do not eat any products that have in any way derived from animals?  I don't.  I can't.  Not only does it not translate to the majority of humans around the globe, but getting on my ethical high horse in that sort of situation just doesn't seem right.  

 eating octopus by the sea, straight from the woman who caught it, right next to where it was caught- doesn't get much more local than that, right?

I know it is not every day that I'm in a situation that demands those decisions of me, but I am not really keen on undertaking a lifestyle of extremes such as veganism knowing full well that time and again I will make exceptions in the pursuit of understanding and respecting other cultures.  Nor do I think that eating healthy and ethically has to come in the form of extremes, as it only serves to further alienate the majority of the population who cannot afford such a lifestyle.  Millions of Americans struggle to get enough fruits and vegetables in their diets-- not because they are ignorant or lazy, but often because the things that are heavily subsidized by the government (corn, meat, processed dairy) are more affordable and more filling, despite how nutritionally poor and lowbrow on the foodie scale they may be.  Healthy and responsible eating should not have to be expensive, divisive, or elitist.  But if the poor keep eating poorly based on the few affordable choices they have (and looking at the factors for beef consumption in America, geography, income, and race have a significant impact on who relies most on meat in their diets) and the rich who can afford to make food choices that reflect how "socially conscious" they are continue to buy into their exclusive diet and lifestyle clubs, what will change?  What incentive (other than it being the responsible thing to do) does the government have to correct the subsidies that encourage these unhealthy behaviors?  What incentive do companies have to target health foods at a wider population and offer them at more affordable prices when they already have a faithful elite that keep them in business by paying top dollar for organic-local-vegan-status-symbol products?  There really isn't much.  In this way, I think the small changes have the potential to be most effective.  If enough people start to be a little more discriminating about what they put into their bodies, I believe it can have a much stronger impact than if a teeny tiny fraction of the the population decides to cut out entire groups all together.

I've rambled a bit, from shark finning and dog meat to culture and American diets.  Things got out of hand.  Food is fascinating, isn't it?

I'd like to just end with something that I read awhile ago on my friend Andy's blog, which really seems to sum up the conundrum I face balancing health and social responsibility with respect and appreciation of culture when it comes to food:

Eating nutritious and local food is important to me, but I don’t want to turn my back on culture to do it.  Truly experiencing food is what I’m after, and if that calls for settling for imperfection here and there, bring it on. In a perfect world, we’d all grow turnips in our backyards and eat them like candy.  In a perfect world, our farmers would tell us what to eat, not our televisions.  In a perfect world we’d all be eating well.

Truthfully, I’m happy with eating goodly.*

*Eating Goodly is the name of Andy's blog- as a future Master of Management in Hospitality student at Cornell, I assure you he can get away with making up words to make a point.  For some thought provoking posts on food (from ethics and culture to darn good french toast and beer), I encourage you to check it out!

paint by stereotype: USA

My American life could pretty much be summed up as "cheese steak + historical landmarks."  I don't hate it.

 

by Haley Nahman

Things could be worse.  At least I'm not a republican or a serial killer.

modern architecture in San Diego

Photo credit: http://www.fiatdulcislux.com/

Driving into work this morning, due East, blinded by the sunrise piercing the open sky between imposing hospital buildings, my dad described the opposite effect that occurs every evening at the Salk Institute in La Jolla, when, facing due West, one basks in the glow of a perfect Pacific sunset through the modern buildings that disguise a world class reserach facility that five Nobel Prize winning scientists have once called home.

Being unfamiliar with the architecture of the Salk Institute, I, naturally, called upon my good friend, Google, to enlighten me: 

Jonas Salk had a distinctive vision for the creation of the Institute. In the early 1960s, he directed the world-renowned architect Louis Kahn to provide spacious, unobstructed laboratory spaces that could be adapted to the ever-changing needs of science. The building materials had to be simple, strong, durable, and as maintenance-free as possible. Salk summarized his aesthetic objectives by telling the architect to "create a facility worthy of a visit by Picasso." Kahn, who was a devoted artist before he became an architect, responded to this challenge. (via)

When it comes to architecture, I am not always a fan of the more modern (I realize that "modern" is a very, very broad term that encompasses quite a range of styles over the past century, but I'm not really qualified enough to launch into a discussion of particulars here), but I like the way that the light plays with the buildings, lending some character to the seemingly monolithic. 

Another really interesting structure nearby is the UCSD Geisel library-- and if it seems like something out of a Dr. Suess book, well, it was financed by Theodore Suess Geisel (aka Dr. Suess) and his wife. 

Photo Credit: Matt Soave via

So, it appears that my lusting for San Diego continues.  In addition to sun, friends, Pandas, and missions, there are also some funky buildings to check out.  I guess the views over the Pacific are a draw, too?

Photo Credit: AMagill via

Yup, they totally are.

To Catch a Dollar

For tonight only at 7:30, you can go see To Catch a Dollar, a new documentary by Gayle Ferraro about about the efforts of Muhammad Yunus and Grameen Bank and the potential for microfinance to be successful in America.  A list of participating theatres can be found here.



I'd write more about how awesome microfinance is and how you should go see this movie (both true statements) but I've gotta run!  Gotta run some errands, get in a yoga class, and then catch this film at the only theatre in Maryland that is screening it!

how not to pack for a long weekend

Despite the fact that I have been in perpetual motion for the past couple years, I am still the worst packer ever.  I struggle to remember one trip in recent memory that didn't begin with a scramble to get everything packed at the last minute-- whether that be a weekend jaunt in nearby Philadelphia or a year-long move to the opposite side of the world.  Often this ends in gross over-packing, frequently in poor sartorial decisions, and time and again in random acts of packing stupidity, as I end up with several pairs of pants and only one shirt for the weekend or completely forget to toss in underwear (which can only somewhat work if you are headed to Mexico and plan on spending most of your time rotating through the bathing suits that you, thankfully, did not forget to pack).

This weekend was no exception, and Friday morning found me struggling to finish a final paper and throw together a weekend bag for New York with highs of 75 and best friends on the horizon.  75 is well and nice, but the excitement over basking in the glory of an early spring day can easily corrupt the reasonable part of the brain that tells you that highs of 50 the following two days really mean that it will get down close to freezing over the weekend-- don't hang up your winter jacket just yet.

Flash forward to Sunday night, as I'm waiting for the bus to take me home, away from the chaos of the city as well as far away from the people I love.  After a night of dancing in heels and retiring yet another sad pair of black opaque tights, I've been schlepping it around the city in a pair of yoga pants and gold Toms.  While I am vaguely embarrassed about my state of being, at least New Yorkers are wonderfully active, and traversing Central Park in workout attire (albeit of the perfectly matched Lululemon variety) is nothing out of the ordinary on a sunny Sunday.  Having just made it in time for my bus back down below the Maison-Dixon line, I'm high on the adrenaline of a close call and not really expecting a long wait out in the cold.  But the buses are backed up, and so nearly forty minutes later, I decide to pull a pair of jeans over top of my pants in hopes that I will stop shivering uncontrollably.  Never mind the awkwardness of shimmying into denim that was not meant to be layered and bending over to fish for the ends of my bunched up yoga pants while surrounded by hundreds of Megabus customers-- I'm certain I am borderline hypothermic at this point, and dammit, I am not going to go into shock just because I can't pack or predict the changing weather worth shit!

My bus ended up boarding a few minutes later, but the damage was done, and I shiver shiver shivered all the way home.  While this should be a lesson in how not to pack, experience tells me that I will continue to get this wrong time and again.  How does one pack for a short weekend with drastic temperature changes and drastically different social situations (a Saturday night out at a swanky lounge vs. lounging on a Sunday morning, for instance)?  Will I ever get it right?!

a self-portrait. the big apple is just sooo much better in the comfort of my yoga pants, yea?  I'm pretty jazzed about the situation, anyway, if you can't tell.

a night out in Baltimore: Mediterranean food & Pete Yorn

Nothing like some good ol' live music to pull you back into the moment, right?

A long, otherwise boring day that started with 7 am power yoga followed by nine hours in an office (with lots of intermittent daydreaming of far-off lands and friends) ended on an exceptional note-- a mouthwatering dinner and a night of musical revelry.

We started the evening in Fells Point-- at 6 pm and still light, I was beyond grateful for daylight saving's time despite still dragging even more than usual from spending one less vital hour in the arms of Morpheus over the weekend.  The vegan struck gold once again with her choice in restaurant--everything we ordered at Mezze, specializing in Mediterranean small plates, was delicious.


After dinner, our party split, and two of us headed towards the concert venue that was playing host to Ben Kweller and Pete Yorn for the night.  I can't afford to carry on with any sort of verbosity here, as I have a final paper that I should be prioritizing, but I'm not sure I even want to reduce what ultimately was just an enjoyable evening of energetic performances by both musicians to mere words.

Ben Kweller                                                                                                        Pete Yorn

Standing directly in front of the stage was close enough to observe that PY was sporting a wedding band.  It appears that some lucky lady has snatched up this beautiful and talented hunk of a man.

I'm not even upset with my heels or knees for screaming after four hours of standing in ballet flats or stressed about the need to write a final paper in the next two days that will largely determine my grade.

Bottom line: I need some more live music in my life.