Don't Stop Me Now

I read an article this evening that details things to avoid ("what not to do") in the following cities: Los Angeles, Paris, London, Las Vegas, and New York. As I have visited all five of these cities, I feel qualified to judge this article on its merit. Yes, that's all it takes.

Let's take it one city at a time, shall we?

Los Angeles, California:

The article suggests steering clear of beaches such as Venice and Santa Monica. Now, I've already sung my praises for the former, while I feel like the latter has justifiably earned its place amongst LA landmarks. I completely understand that the Bohemian/gaudy nature of Venice and the ever-prevalent crowds of Santa Monica might get tiresome after a while, but for a short visit, I think either (or both) are worth checking out. I don't think you can really go wrong with many of the So Cal beaches, though.

I'm not even going to touch on the article's advice on celebrity stalking, since that interests me about as much as physics does (which is to say, not at all).

Interestingly enough, there are extended versions of these lists at Concierge.com. These lists offer some legitimate points, such as flying into an airport other than LAX and checking out the Hollywood sign from a more distant (yet still enjoyable) vantage point.

London, England:

I agree with the article's mention that biking around the city is a far more interesting way of traveling than the standard double-decker bus, especially given the city's new cycle hire. However, biking can be tricky (or impossible, actually) depending on the size of your group and/or the ages of the people with whom you're traveling. I'd stick to the Underground and good old fashioned walking, unless you're traveling solo or with another, equally agile companion.

The article also suggests visiting the Museum of London instead of Madame Tussauds, and here, I think I'm inclined to agree. For one thing, the Museum is free, something that is always appreciated on a vacation (or ever, who am I kidding). Also, I don't really understand why a space full of wax statues is exciting, especially considering some of the people who are immortalized. Amy Winehouse? Zac Efron?

Paris, France:

Visiting the Louvre can indeed be a draining experience, as the article points out, but I do think it's worth the time. Those who aren't overly interested in art can visit the most popular exhibits and those that they find most compelling. The article suggests foregoing the Louvre in favor of smaller, cozier art galleries, but I think this might appeal only to tourists who are passionate about art. The average traveler would probably rather check out the Mona Lisa than study Monet's water lily murals. Just a guess.

Las Vegas, Nevada:

The article's suggestions for Las Vegas are practical and have nothing to do with sightseeing. If there's one thing I consistently appreciate, it's sensible advice, so I have no qualms with this section of the article. Visiting ATMs off the strip and arriving early for a flight home are two prudent recommendations. A little money and time management never hurt anybody.

New York, New York:

In all my years (24, to be exact) of traveling to New York, I can safely say that I've never taken a carriage ride in Central Park. I've never been overly tempted to do so, either. Walking is definitely a smarter and more entertaining method of seeing the Park, so I'm in complete agreement with this portion of the article. Leave the carriage rides to romantic comedies and get out and experience the city the real way.

I'm also in complete agreement with the article's advice to avoid eating in Times Square. This particular stretch of Manhattan is inundated with chain restaurants that most people have access to in their hometowns. The article suggests traveling to Hell's Kitchen, a portion of the city that's merely blocks away from Times Square but offers far more ethnic and unique dining options. I agree, but also think that nearly every portion of the city has fantastic offerings, so I'd suggest not limiting oneself to a neighborhood. Look at a Zagat Guide or check in at Yelp for some reviews and suggestions all over the isle.

I started out feeling a little antagonistic towards this article, but it grew in validity as it progressed. There are some tourist clichés that are best avoided, and this article does a nice job of pointing out a few.

Dear Sir or Madam, Will You Read My Book?

I'm moving to the Bay Area in about a month and a half. It's a change I've been contemplating for some time now, and I've finally planned out the steps necessary to make it happen. I'm impossibly nervous, but at the same time energized by the possibilities that lie ahead, in every aspect of my life.

The cosmos appears to be doing its part to quell any anxiety I might have, by offering me incentives as well as proof of the unique opportunities that exist out west.

Last week, The New York Times published "A Book Lover's San Francisco," in which Gregory Dicum discusses San Francisco's literary scene (and a vibrant one at that!).

Dicum first references Litquake, an annual literary festival, which hosts several readings and events, and which culminates in the "Lit Crawl"—it's nerdy and entertaining all in one!

He explains that many of the city's bookstores are are clustered on Valencia Street (home to 826Valencia, amongst other stores); these are "the most obvious part of the Mission literary scene."

There are still several interesting bookstores to be found outside of the Mission District, though, and Dicum lists several at the article's end. In addition, he mentions several reading series, museums, and literary-themed places to stay, all of which are in San Francisco.

The bookstore that he mentions in most detail is the one that I have longing to visit for years—City Lights, a San Francisco landmark located in North Beach, the former home of the Beats. In fact, Lawrence Ferlinghetti is one of the original founders of this bookstore/publisher.

I'm literally itching with excitement at the prospect of exploring both this neighborhood and the bookstore (nerd alert!), and reading about Dicum's exploration of the area only augments this desire.

The article mentions a statistic of which I was previously unaware: In San Francisco, "the average per capita expenditure on books is perennially among the highest in the nation."

The article also delves into the manner in which San Francisco's literary scene continues to flourish, years after authors from Mark Twain to Jack Kerouac helped the city rise to literary prominence. Dicum identifies events that take place in the area, how to get involved in the social aspect of the city's literary scene, and the "distinctive flavor" of each of these gatherings.

Moreover, Dicum points out a few "work-friendly" establishments, places that are calm and (in his opinion) conducive to reading and writing.

So while I'm restless and scared of what lies ahead, events such as these are invigorating. I'm hoping that by the time I'm out there, I'll be more excited about exploring these opportunities than I am fearful of living in a brand new location. We'll see!

People All Over the World, Join Hands

This past weekend, I drove down to Washington DC to attend the Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear with a longtime friend.

Despite my having fairly firm beliefs on many subjects, I've never attended a rally of any kind, let alone a politically-themed one, nor have I ever been inclined to do so. But this one seemed like it would be fun, and...calmer than the image I have of a typical political rally. And I was correct.

My friend and I headed off towards the Mall around 10am, and joined in on the sardine-like squishing that took place on the Metro. Not fun.

But people were friendly and excited, which made the lack of personal space a little less oppressive.

The Mall was insanely crowded by the time we arrived, and it took us a long time to find a space where we weren't claustrophobic. We abandoned hope of seeing anything pretty early on, as we were too short to see the Jumbotrons, let alone the stage. Story of my life. I'm sure there were 12-year old children nearby who could see more than we could.

The rally got underway around 1pm, at which point the overall experience shifted from good to awesome. We were listening to The Roots perform, when I suddenly heard the soulful voice of John Legend join in, and I tried not to combust spontaneously in glee. I have wanted to hear/see that man perform live for far too long, and while I'd rather see him in a real concert, I'll take what I can get.

There were all sorts of fun performances and appearances that followed, including Sheryl Crow, Ozzy Osbourne, Yusuf Islam (formerly Cat Stevens), the O'Jays, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, R2-D2 (well, I suppose that one wasn't real), and of course, the hosts, Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert.

It was a varied bunch of people, much like the crowd that had assembled on the Mall. The attendees were racially diverse, and ranged from small children to the elderly, and many of them had traveled a fair distance to be there, too.

What I loved most about the event, though, was its overall tone. Everyone was affable, calm, and seemingly just genuinely excited to be hanging out on the Mall. Nothing was overly political (in fact, at no point all day did I even hear the word "vote" mentioned), so it really just seemed like a giant concert/comedy show of sorts.

At one (really awesome) point, the O'Jays took the stage, to break the back and forth between Ozzy Osbourne's "Crazy Train" and Yusuf's "Peace Train" and instead advocate for the "Love Train." It seemed like just about everyone joined in, and there was just one giant sing-along on the National Mall.

Of course, it wouldn't be a rally without signs, and most of the ones I liked best were a little lewd (I swear, I'm not as perverse as that makes me sound). But I'd like to share some of my favorite, nonpolitical, G-rated signs:

"Not Penny's Boat"

"Is this the line for Justin Bieber tickets?"

And of course..."There's always money in the banana stand"

The whole afternoon was just one big feel-good event; who doesn't enjoy one of those? I came back to my friend's place feeling happy and relaxed, and I think we could all use moments like that.

Hey Batter, Batter

It's World Series time!
This year's Fall Classic pits the San Francisco Giants against the Texas Rangers, and despite my usually being apathetic towards both teams, I'm pulling for the Giants to get the Series win. I grew increasingly antagonistic towards the Rangers during the ALCS, and not just because they beat (or rather, demolished) my beloved Yankees, but because they seem a little arrogant and...disjointed as a team, if that makes sense. I do love CJ Wilson, though.

On the other hand, the Giants seem to be a team of castoffs (only two of their starters were in the team's Opening Day lineup), which lends itself to a cohesiveness and chemistry that few teams possess. Their fans are so loyal and enthusiastic, too, which seems unsurprising, given the type of city that San Francisco is.

Sports can be such an enjoyable method of relishing a region's social culture. Watch the Journey sing-along at last night's game—that's passion and camaraderie:

Yes, you see things like this in other fields and ballparks, too, but I genuinely feel that some cities and fans connect on a better level than others. Fans in and of Tampa Bay, for example, are either nonexistent or can hardly be bothered to show up.

And I'm lame and I often delight in seeing fans coming together and expressing adoration and excitement over sports—unless it's at Fenway, in which case I growl and roll my eyes.

A slightly less enthusiastic (but only slightly) sing-along from the same game can be found here. It's worth watching, particularly after about the 48 second mark, which is where Steve Perry begins rocking out to his own classic tune. FANTASTIC.

Wouldn't It Be Nice?

I've previously mentioned my love of airports; they sit above rest areas on a list of "Things I Inexplicably Adore." As any traveler (experienced or otherwise) will tell you, the quality of airports can make a huge difference in the overall traveling experience. Traveling by way of LAX, for example, is sure to be stressful, while airports that provide better amenities (even on a basic level) are likely to enable smoother and calmer travel.

In a recent New York Times article, Susan Stellin discusses the ways in which airports can improve, in order to better overall passenger satisfaction.

Stellin mentions that Detroit Metropolitan Wayne County Airport is the "highest-ranking large airport in this year's... customer satisfaction survey," and that her own observations of the airport help her to understand why. My brother, too, has been singing the praises of Detroit's airport, ever since he began frequenting it late last year.

The article lists four ways in which airports could improve, as well as some of the airports that seemingly get it right. Moreover, the article offers specific suggestions for betterment; most of them are fantastic, but of course will likely be ignored in favor of little to no change at all.

I particularly like that the article links to several websites that offer a variety of services, such as lists of airports with free Wi-Fi, and tips on the best airports in which to sleep.

I also learned of some pretty interesting offerings at various airports. Vancouver International, for example, has a bar in the baggage claim area. It's perhaps a nice place to kill time if you're waiting to be picked up (though trekking that luggage around would be a huge drag), or even if you're the one doing the picking up—provided that you're safe about it, that is.

Indianapolis' airport offers free Wi-Fi, while the newest terminal in San Jose International has electrical outlets built in to every chair. Pretty fantastic; if only they could combine the two. For foodies like me, San Francisco International hosts branches of local establishments, which helps make the airport a part of the Bay Area community.

Many of the proposed ideas are practical, but I understand that implementation would take time and money, so it's not as easy as it sounds.

Still, it's curious that airports aren't more committed to a higher level of customer service. In particular, one would think that larger airports would be more invested in providing a better environment for travelers, given the high number of passengers that frequent their space.

In the meantime, as I continue to travel (minimally), I'll take note of the ones that I love, and the ones that I would love to makeover.

Chicago, That Toddling Town

If I were at all content with living in an extremely cold winter climate, I'd think seriously about moving to Chicago. The portions of the city that I've experienced firsthand are fun, unique, and interesting, and from what I've seen since, the city continues to place an emphasis on inventive architecture and art.

Today, the New York Times' website published "36 Hours in Chicago"; Fred Bernstein spends a day and a half visiting some of the venues the city has to offer.

Some sound fun, others sound uninteresting—to me, at least. But reading the article led me to reminisce about some of the enjoyable parts of Chicago that I've experienced in the past.

Back in 1993, my family and I stopped and spent a few days in Chicago, en route to California. My parents wanted to take us to places that would be suitable for a toddler (my brother was only two), and so took us to the Chicago Children's Museum.

It was, in a word, AMAZING.

I wish I remembered some of the particulars better, but I do remember that each exhibit was essentially an educational play station for kids. There was one that contained hula-hooping (I unsurprisingly failed at that one), one that allowed coloring, and one that held Legos (I loved that one).

This place was basically one giant playground, comprised of everything a kid could ever want to play with—at least in the early '90s. I'm slightly curious as to how it's changed over the years; from what I see on the website, there are probably things there that I'd still enjoy, as sad as that is.

Towards the end of my senior year of high school (2004), I returned to Chicago, although this time with a large group of my peers. The trip took us all over the city, including a brief jaunt to The Magnificent Mile and a night at the theater to see The Blue Man Group perform. They are hilarious and fantastic, by the way, so if you ever have the chance to see them...do it. We also visited and went up to the top of the then-Sears Tower (now known as the Willis Tower) and spent an evening hanging out at the Navy Pier, which is pretty when it's all lit up at night.

So get out there if you get the chance, though perhaps you might want to visit between March and November, so as to avoid the seemingly five hours of daylight and the bone-chillingly cold temperatures. It's a little less exciting to see all the beautiful architecture when it's dark out and you've lost the feeling in your body.

I'd love to revisit this place, if only so I could take photograph after photograph with a digital camera, rather than the film camera I toted around six years ago. But I'll bet re-exploring the city would be pretty great, too.

Carolina in My Mind

I've been daydreaming a lot about other places I want to visit in the United States, so I've created a follow-up to my previous list.

Technically, these should probably be numbered 6 & 7, but if looking at all seven, I'd want to rearrange their order and expound on my previous five entries. So I will stick with 1 & 2.

1. Wilmington, North Carolina

As I've mentioned before, I've loved North Carolina since I was young. It's a southern state without being too far south, parts of it are charming and beautiful, and it's got great weather, without being too extreme in either direction. The aggressive humidity could take a hike, though.

Wilmington is located in the southeastern portion of the state, about an hour from the coast. It's a fairly small city, but is absolutely gorgeous.

It's been a relatively long time since I was last in North Carolina, but one of the things I remember about the state is the gorgeous greenery everywhere—Wilmington is no exception; look at that Spanish moss!

Wilmington seems like a wonderful place to live—it's not overwhelmingly large, it's beautiful, and if the line about southern hospitality is to be believed, the people are polite and kind. I like small cities and the cost of renting in Wilmington has got to be dirt cheap. It's near the ocean as well as a river (and I think the Riverfront is so charming and picturesque).

Of course, my rationality always rears its head, and I tell myself that I could never realistically live here, as I don't think the job market in this particular area is all that great.

I think it'd be relatively easier to find a job in the Raleigh-Durham area (the latter being one of the cities on my first list). So maybe one day I'll live in North Carolina and spend long weekends visiting Wilmington and the surrounding areas. That would be glorious.

2. Charleston, South Carolina

Don't be fooled; I am not in love with the South, though this list seems to indicate otherwise. I balk at a lot of Southern traditions, and the general conservatism that tends to inundate the area isn't something with which I can easily identify. I doubt I could ever live any further south than North Carolina. But living and visiting are two very different things.

I always imagine Charleston as comparable to Savannah, both in look and feel, although I have nothing to back this up beyond Google Images searches and the occasional internet article.

Whenever I picture either city, I imagine antebellum buildings and homes, a style that I always perceive as the visual embodiment of the South. And it's a nice image to have: the wide porches, long columns, and stark white color are beautiful, and are so reminiscent of the Greek and Roman structures that influenced this particular style.

But Charleston's culture and architecture is diverse, so while there's overall a sort of pristine look to the city (made stronger by the large number of churches), Charleston is more than rows and rows of similar-looking buildings. That would probably be a little boring, visually speaking.

Charleston is also said to have some of the strongest historic preservation in the country; many of the historic buildings date back to the Civil War. From what I read, the city's residents also exemplify the charm, friendliness, and courtesy associated with much of the South, too.

I'm sure there are some interesting places to visit in Charleston, but honestly, all I want to do is walk around, take a bunch of pictures, and soak in the uniqueness of the city, aesthetic and otherwise.

Also, the New York Times published "36 Hours in Charleston" on their website yesterday. Check it out.

Hopefully one day I'll be able to cross at least one (if not both!) of these places off my list. For now, I'll just have to settle for fawning over pictures of these cities. I got a little heady just looking at pictures of Wilmington and Charleston. Seriously. Give it a try—they're insanely gorgeous.

On the Streets of Philadelphia

Despite having grown up within an hour of Philadelphia, my visits to the city have been few and far between over the course of my life. I think I've been into the city more times since my high school graduation than I did in the seventeen years prior. So every trip I take into Philly tends to be a new and unique experience.

I had dinner in Philadelphia this past weekend and La Fontana Della Citta, a quaint Italian restaurant located on Spruce Street (which means close to nothing to me, as I know and understand very little about the setup of the city).

Since I am a carb lover, I always enjoy bread baskets. Italian restaurants, in particular, generally create an olive oil and pepper/spices dipping plate for the bread, but this restaurant did not. Instead, we were forced to play around with the olive oil, pepper, and salt containers to create our own delicious (though atrociously messy) plates.

After fawning over the different menu options, I finally decided on the Gnocchi Sorrentina, which is a fancy name for gnocchi that is served in a "light pink sauce" (and which I found to be similar in taste to a vodka sauce). The dish was delectable, though I found myself wishing that it was made with regular pasta instead of gnocchi, if only because I'd have been able to ingest more of the meal without becoming so abysmally full.

Several of the other girls around me also ordered the gnocchi (and also loved it immensely), while others had dishes such as the fettuccine alfredo and risotto, and everyone's opinion of the food seemed to be favorable.

Other things of note:

The wait staff was both friendly and polite, particularly considering the fact that they were waiting on a fairly large-sized party.

The restaurant is BYOB, which tends to be helpful and cost-effective when dining with large parties (or ever, really).

While I'll certainly keep this restaurant in mind as a good place to eat, I doubt I'll ever actually return, if only because my trips to Philly are so few and far between, and usually so distinctive. But it's definitely worth checking out, if you're looking for a good Italian meal in the city.

Take a Look, It's in a Book

In light of the recession, families everywhere are opting to take "staycations," a vacation that takes place close to or in one's own home.

In a New York Times essay, Joe Queenan discusses his own nerdtastic, literary staycation—visits to a few towns in eastern Pennsylvania, all of which have some sort of literary relevance.

As he says, "The idea was to combine local color and cuisine with a visit to the old stomping grounds of...three very different American writers."

Pretty awesome, pretty geeky, and thus, pretty much something I adore.

So I got to thinking: If I could plan my own literary staycation, where would I choose to go?

Cities such as New York and San Francisco are obviously rich with literary history; in addition to hosting movements such as the Harlem Renaissance and the Beat Generation, so many authors set their stories in these particular regions. So how could you possibly begin to narrow your trip down to just a few places? (I would, however, really like to see some of the Beats' stomping grounds some time.)

My pure adoration for Pablo Neruda makes me want to go to Chile, but I'm pretty sure that trips to South America don't fall within the jurisdiction of a staycation.

I'd be interested in exploring Pittsburgh, too, as it relates to Michael Chabon. Chabon went to college at the University of Pittsburgh, and his first two novels (The Mysteries of Pittsburgh and Wonder Boys) are set in this city.

And one of the literary loves of my life, Jeffrey Eugenides, was born and raised in Detroit. It's also the setting for a large portion of his second novel, Middlesex, while his first, The Virgin Suicides, is set in Grosse Pointe, a Detroit suburb. I'd be interested in exploring the city with the knowledge that it's clearly a region that he finds both familiar and inspiring. Additionally, since the Michigan portions of the novels are set in the '60s and '70s, respectively, I think it'd be fascinating to see how much of the city has changed since then, and how it differs from the picture I painted in my head after reading his works.

I wouldn't mind visiting the old homes of writers, the ones that have been preserved and added to the NRHP. For example, Walt Whitman's house is in Camden, New Jersey (although I have no interest in roaming that city without several bodyguards) and e.e. cummings' is in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

As you can see, I can hardly plan a concrete trip around these places, as they are located all across America. While I'm sure I could find literary significance in many places, I think part of the trick is finding literary significance in which you're interested, or at the very least, with which you're familiar.

My inability to select a location comes as no surprise. I am notoriously indecisive when it comes to making very simple decisions, such as "what should I wear today?" or, more commonly, "what do I want to eat? Because everything looks delicious." Give me a more complex decision to make, however, and I'll tackle that in a methodical, time-effective way.

I'll just stick to visiting literary locations when I'm in the area, though it's probably something I should tackle either alone or with fellow nerds. I forced my family to comply with my request to visit the Folger Shakespeare Library on a trip to Washington D.C. about five years ago, and I think my brother fell asleep just listening to me talk about going there. It was fun, though, and I bet a lot of these literary locations would be, too.

Nerd Alert: The title of this post comes from the Reading Rainbow theme song. I watched this show ALL THE TIME as a child, so I suppose I've been cultivating my geeky side for a long time.

Hope Springs Eternal

Today marks five years since Hurricane Katrina ravaged the Gulf Coast and displaced thousands of families from their homes.

I could use this space to lament that recovery and rebuilding has been slow, or that the Gulf Coast has been stricken yet again with the BP oil disaster, or that figures such as the mortality rate could have been lower, had the government been more expedient in providing the aid the region so desperately needed.

I've done my fair share of lamenting over the years, and so have many others—as is evident by the discussions and interviews that took place on news shows and specials this weekend.

But despite all the problems that stemmed from Katrina, as well as the difficulties that still exist today, there are still some positives that can be taken away from the past five years:

* The stories of the people displaced by Katrina are so inspiring. I cannot fathom going through something of this magnitude, and it's uplifting to see how people managed to triumph after all their struggles. So many people were forced to flee their homes, and while some have returned, many have started new lives in new locations, having started completely from scratch.

Seeing the conditions that people endured, and reading the stories of the adversity that they faced really helps to put my own life in perspective, too. The things that I complain about pale in comparison to situations and plights that other families have faced, and continue to face on a daily basis.

I don't mean to diminish the magnitude of anything I've experienced (those events and feelings are important and consequential in their own way), but rather to remind myself that I could have it a lot worse.

* There is much to be admired and appreciated about the citizens of America. This thought makes me hark back to September 11, when I felt a very similar sentiment upon seeing the outpouring of support for the victims.

So much of the rebuilding in the Gulf Coast has come at the hands of the public. There have been umpteenth church groups, sports teams, clubs, and other organizations who have planned trips to the region to help rebuild.

As someone who has participated in one of these trips, I can vouch for how immensely rewarding it is, not just to help contribute to the area's recovery, but to witness firsthand the spirit and strength of the people there.

* The beautiful, vivacious, and distinct culture of New Orleans is stronger than ever. There's a unity amongst the people that continues to be fueled by events such as the Saints' Super Bowl win. Its citizens are devoted to restoring the area and have so much hope for the future of the Gulf Coast.

The region continues to thrive and expand, with Teach for America receiving thousands of applications for the New Orleans region, and the number of students applying to Tulane University growing annually.

And the things that make New Orleans so unique—the jazz music, the food, and the culture, to name a few—are once again establishing themselves as important components of the city, providing familiarity and comfort to its residents.

For those who have never had the privilege to travel to the region, try to take a trip when you can. You won't regret it.

Globes and Maps Are All Around Me Now

Over the past few years, there's been a growing dependency on GPS's. Most people, when driving to an unfamiliar destination, will plug in the GPS and go.

I find myself generally unable to operate in this manner. In fact, in the years of driving I've done with a GPS, I've only ever used it as either a backup to the directions I already had, or to bail me out when I made an error/was forced into a detour/got horrendously lost.

This past weekend, for example, I did a fair amount of driving (though a little less than I expected). Because there were so many different venues crammed into a weekend, I made a list of the excursions I would likely be making, and used Google Maps to provide me with directions. When I hit the road on Friday afternoon, I had about six different sets of directions printed out and crammed in my purse.

I know a GPS shouting directions at me is probably safer than frequent glances at a piece of paper, but I much prefer the latter method.

I don't like fidgeting with a GPS while driving—I'd argue that doing so is exponentially more dangerous than holding a piece of paper in one hand and the steering wheel in the other.

I hate the repetitiveness of a GPS, too, as it announces your upcoming turn/exit several times, sometimes even after you've taken it. Please shut up and let me listen to my music in peace.

But in getting directions online, I'm able to familiarize myself with the route I'll be taking, at least on a general level. I like being prepared whenever possible, and when driving, that means having a general awareness of the highways and roads on which I'll be traveling.

I've always been really good with directions, too—directions just make sense to me, and I have somewhat of a natural instinct in finding my way on the road. Plus, I process everything I pass, making return or reverse trips a relatively effortless endeavor.

So with a combination of my memory/inherent ease at navigation and the directional overview Google Maps has given me, I don't often even need directions to come home.

Unless, of course, I get lost.

Plus, Google Maps lets me play around with alternate routing in a way that is much easier than on a GPS. I get to see the different options I can take, the mileage for each one, and the additional travel time that's likely to occur in traffic. When driving down to Ocean City a few weeks back, for instance, I avoided the Garden State Parkway, which I knew would be extremely backed up on a Friday afternoon. Instead, I played around a bit and found a route that was only six minutes longer, two miles lengthier, and not at all difficult to navigate.

I will say, however, that a GPS would be incredibly useful if I were to move somewhere new, or even travel in an area that's unfamiliar to me.

Back when I was in Arizona, for example, much of our traveling was done via GPS, although during the time we were in town, I managed to familiarize myself with a map of downtown Scottsdale and provide a verbal navigation to whomever was driving.

But it's a nice thing to have if you don't have internet access or the time to sit down, fiddle around, and print out the sets of directions you might need. Plus, some people are crazy enough to be spontaneous, so I imagine a GPS helps immensely when making a sudden decision to travel to x location.

Like I said, I'm sure most people will disagree. But I'll stick to having the GPS serve as my safety blanket.

Meet Me Tonight in Atlantic City

While a majority of my weekend in Ocean City was low-key, my friends and I did take a break from all the relaxation to have a nice dinner in Atlantic City, which is about a half hour north of where we were.

This was my first time in Atlantic City; while I'd always seen potential in certain places (such as the Borgata, which often hosts some excellent entertainment), I wasn't dying to get out there and explore. It was my impression that the somewhat trashy nightlife and gambling scene far overshadows any unique things the city might offer.

Now that I've been, I can safely say that my opinion is unchanged. Watching people stumble around casinos in hemlines and heels best left on street corners is decidedly not fun.

We ate dinner in Caesar's, at a restaurant named Mia. The staff was incredibly jovial and our waiter, in particular, didn't at all make me feel uncomfortable when I asked several questions about some of the menu items.

I spent about five minutes vacillating between two types of pasta, before deciding on the mozzarella ravioli, without the mushroom garnish. It was delicious. Ravioli is primarily stuffed with ricotta (a great cheese, to be sure, but it's no mozzarella), so I loved the different approach.

One of the things I like about dining with people is the opportunity to sample other dishes. Two of my friends ordered the other pasta dish I'd wanted (cavatelli, minus the pancetta). Another friend ordered the chicken, an option I'd also briefly entertained. I sampled both and they were both delicious, so if I ever return here, ordering certainly won't be any easier.

The restaurant itself was elegantly furnished, complete with ambient lighting. I was a little surprised to see two flat screen televisions above the bar; they seemed a little out of place, given the décor and environment.

After dinner, we walked through Caesar's and took in the wide variety of people that surrounded us. We also paused to stare at (and photograph) the humungous statue of Julius Caesar that stands adjacent to Mia.

Mia proves that, as I expected, there are glimmers of greatness in Atlantic City. Great food aside, though, there's little reason for me to return.

I Dig My Toes into the Sand

I'm not particularly a beach person. I get restless doing nothing but sitting out in the sun all day, even when I have good music or a book to keep me company. I can do it every once in a while, but unlike most, I never desire a big day in the sun; I'm perfectly content with there being a couple of years in between my beach visits.

Also, I'm generally disgusted by most things that come out of the ocean, from crabs to jellyfish, so I'm in no rush to immerse myself in them.

That said, I like the environment of the beach. In the middle of an extremely hot summer (much like the one we're having now), the temperature is always cooler by the shore. And while I'm not very good at laying out and baking all day, I do love strolling along the beach—and I mean that in the least maudlin way possible. I love beach houses, too; their simplistic decor makes them all seem so clean and fresh and summery.

I think I'd love to own a house or apartment on the beach some day; I'd be able to enjoy the ocean at dawn and dusk (the best times, if you ask me), take long, non-romantic walks on the beach, and enjoy possessing and furnishing a beach residence. But I wouldn't have to deal with the crowds and full-fledged "beach experience" unless I wanted to. Sounds like a great deal to me.

But I digress.

I spent this past weekend in Ocean City, New Jersey, where I'd never been before—my experience with New Jersey beach towns hadn't extended beyond Long Beach Island (which I love).

While about four hours of Saturday morning and afternoon consisted of the typical beach sit, being in the company of four of my closest friends made it incredibly enjoyable. The weather was perfect, too.

I got some reading done, did a little people watching, and took a nice, lengthy walk along the shoreline (on which I almost stepped on a dead jellyfish).

I did get a sun headache, though, which served as a small reminder as to why I sometimes get annoyed at extended periods of beach time. It was a fantastic afternoon overall, though.

We spent a portion of the following day on the boardwalk, which is similar to just about every other boardwalk out there, but was fun nevertheless.

Ocean City's familial atmosphere is akin to that which is found on LBI, and is the kind of environment I prefer. Yes, sometimes kids can be annoying (we witnessed a particularly horrible mother-son combination outside of one of the Mack and Manco's), but I much prefer hordes of families to the trashy, dirty, and sleazy beaches (and people) that are also prevalent down the New Jersey coastline. Ocean City is also a dry town, which means you're less likely to encounter the partying types, who are probably more comfortable in places such as Seaside (or, incidentally, Ocean City, Maryland).

Ocean City, New Jersey, I like you.

Bienvenidos a Miami

With LeBron James greedily, embarrassingly, and hilariously hogging all the attention the media seems all-too-willing to give him, the city of Miami, Florida has been in the spotlight of late.

I have friends who've lived in Miami as well as friends who have visited, and everybody seems to speak glowingly about it.

But I'm not too impressed with everything I've seen and heard. From what I gather, Miami seems to win people over with its fantastic nightlife, a scene in which I could not have less interest.

There just doesn't seem to be much about Miami that's appealing—at least to me.

Warm weather and beaches can be found in a lot of places, so what's the big draw? I hate clubbing and the culture that accompanies a strong nightlife scene. I'm sure there are other things to do in Miami, but I don't know what of these things is appealing enough to warrant a vacation there.

I briefly entertained drawing up a list (since I love them so much) of popular places that I'm not dying to visit. But I quickly realized that Miami's pretty much the only city for which that statement holds true.

An honorable mention goes to Los Angeles, California, though. Yes, technically I've been there before, but I haven't spent much time in the city itself, much less to do touristy things. I've seen the Hollywood sign and I've been to Universal Studios, and that's about it. And I'm not losing sleep over not having done more. The city of Los Angeles itself doesn't have a whole lot to offer, other than atrocious rush hour traffic and an annoying airport. And the awesome Venice Beach. I guess there's the Walk of Fame and other things of that nature, but I'm not particularly interested.

It's the surrounding areas that host some of the more appealing attractions: Anaheim (Disneyland) and Santa Monica (the Pier), for example.

I will say, however, that I'd love to see a Lakers game at the Staples Center and that I really want to visit Griffith Observatory.

Miami can kindly remove itself from the list of places I want to visit, though.

Although I do concede that seeing the Super Bowl there in February would have been fun.

Also, yes, the title of this post is from the Will Smith song. I unashamedly adore the nineties.

Breakfast in America

My family and I had to go up to JFK early yesterday morning, and my dad suggested that we stop and have some brunch in New York City on the way back home. My brother and I agreed, provided that we were back home in time to watch the World Cup Final (which was unfortunately really underwhelming).

We met a close family friend of ours in the Upper East Side, and he guided us to Baker Street Pub, an Irish-influenced restaurant on the corner of 63rd and 1st. I glanced at the menu posted outside, but wasn't particularly impressed by anything they had to offer. I was in the mood for breakfast food (when am I not?) and while this place serves "Irish Breakfast" all day, I found the idea of Irish bacon to be wholly unappealing.

But I didn't want to be fussy (I can nearly always find something to eat, anywhere), so I nodded my agreement of the choice and walked in.

The pub was completely decked out in soccer paraphernalia, which I assumed to be present because of the Cup, but photographs on their website prove that the decorations are a mainstay of the establishment.

The lighting overall seemed to be consistent with that of a dive bar—annoyingly dim. There's ambience, and then there's near-dark.

Plus, the sun was happily shining in through the front windows and it just seemed wrong to be sitting in such a gloomy place on such a bright and gorgeous day.

Another look at the menu effectively smothered all the lovely visions of belgian waffles, eggs, and pancakes that had been dancing around in my head for the past few hours.

Then my eyes landed on a glorious sight—the sides on sandwiches and paninis included the option of sweet potato fries.

For that reason alone, I perused that portion of the menu. Once again, I found very few of these options appealing, but I finally settled on the chicken wrap, without the sundried tomato mayo, as I dislike most condiments/spreads.

But sweet potato fries! What did it matter how the rest of the meal tasted?

The wrap itself was merely satisfactory; the chicken was slightly dry and the caramelized onions were dripping vinegar everywhere, making for a messier dining experience than I would have liked.

But the sweet potato fries were just as amazing as I hoped they would be. Despite their being relatively easy to make, I haven't had them in over two years, back when I made them in Jamaica.

So overall: semi-decent meal, but incredible fries. I showered them in salt and pepper (as I do with just about everything) and went to town.

And picking the sweet potatoes was a smart choice, too, because the regular fries (which my dad and brother got) were not good.

I don't anticipate ever returning to this place (at least not of my own accord), but if I do: sweet potato fries might have to be my entire meal.