The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most

I just finished reading Michael Chabon's The Mysteries of Pittsburgh, which takes place in the titular city. For those who are unfamiliar with Chabon's work, the man is all kinds of talented, so what are you waiting for?

Unlike the settings of some novels, which are there just to provide a generic place for the story to occur, Pittsburgh is an active part of the character's surroundings. Over the course of the novel, Chabon mentions several specific locations, including Carnegie Mellon University, the Monongahela River, and Lake Erie, and speaks of numerous Pittsburgh neighborhoods. Chabon does more than just name-drop these locations, however; the characters frequent these places and engage with them, to the point where you really get a sense of Pittsburgh as these characters' hometown.

Chabon grew up in the city and attended the University of Pittsburgh, which is where he began writing this book; it explains his intimate knowledge of the city. And as I've mentioned before, I wouldn't be opposed to exploring the city now that I've seen it through his eyes.

In the interest of full disclosure, though, I think I should mention that I have a completely irrational dislike of Pittsburgh. Perhaps it's because the city's residents say things like "yinz" (is that shallow?), or perhaps it's because Pittsburgh is home to the Steelers and some really nauseating fans. This actually happened.

But I like Michael Chabon, and I like traveling, so I figured that in the interest of being nice, and fair, and all that jazz, I should list some of what I deem to be Pittsburgh's redeeming qualities. It's a brief list, but then...it's Pittsburgh, is it not?

1. My aunt and uncle got married there.

2. It's apparently embracing the trend of consuming foods that are local and fresh.

3. Mister Rogers' Neighborhood. Those "beautiful day[s]" take place in the Burgh.

4. It was home to both the first baseball stadium ever (it's now closed) as well as to the first World Series. The Pirates lost. Some things never change.

5. I have some very lovely friends who live there.

6. One word: KETCHUP. Heinz, to be specific. Where would I be without it?

Although some of this entry indicates otherwise, I don't think Pittsburgh is some dive. I just don't think it's amazing, either. But it's been years since I was last there, so perhaps all I need is another visit to change my mind. That and the elimination of the Steelers (and the Cowboys, while we're at it) from the NFL.

One Night in Bangkok

On Sunday night, my friend and I had dinner at Bangkok Cuisine in Palo Alto.

After subsisting on nothing but Cheerios, coffee, and popcorn all day, we were more than ready to eat, and luckily, we received the last available table in the restaurant's small dining room. Riots may have started if we'd had to wait at all.

Our empty bellies and extreme hunger led us to order a plate of chicken satay as an appetizer. For our main meal, my friend ordered the Pa-Nang Chicken Curry, while I ordered the Cashew Chicken.

The appetizer arrived relatively quickly, and consisted of five kebobs of chicken, accompanied by peanut sauce and a cucumber salad. The chicken was soft and tasty, but at that point, my outrageous hunger might have convinced me that apple cinnamon oatmeal topped with pickles and black olives was delicious. I decided to wait until the main meal arrived before casting any sort of judgement on the restaurant.

The Cashew Chicken was fantastic. The dish consisted of chicken sautéed in a very mild sauce, and mixed with cashews, bell peppers, and onions. Despite cashews being my favorite of the nuts, I rarely consume them, and opt for walnuts, pecans, or almonds on most occasions. I enjoyed eating them again, and in such an unconventional way. All of the flavors blended together seamlessly, while the spices used in the dish were perfect. I could have used a little kick of spice, but I can't complain about anything beyond that.

In typical form, I polished off my entire plate.

Our bill was accompanied by tamarind candy, which I found disgusting, but that my friend was adventurous enough to try. She promptly spit it out. Tamarind has its purpose for cooking certain meals, but there's no reason for it ever to be used to create candy. Ever.

I'd love to return to Bangkok Cuisine some time, though there are also an endless number of restaurants in the area that I'd like to try. But this place has expedient service, an extensive menu (as well as a separate vegetarian one), and good food—you can't go wrong.

We Watched the Plumes Paint the Sky Gray

I decided to take the Dumbarton Bridge for the first time this morning. Less than twenty seconds into my entrance onto the bridge, I saw this:

Underneath the billowing smoke, I could also see bright orange flames, ones that I was unable to capture on my phone while also navigating my car. It's not something that you ever want to see, but especially not when you're suspended over the San Francisco Bay.

My initial reaction was fear and panic; there was nowhere to turn around, and who knew if the fire would spread or be able to be contained?

The fear and panic slowly dissipated as the cars around me slowed to a crawl, and was replaced by confusion and curiosity. Several of the drivers around me seemed to be more fascinated than anything else. One gentleman next to me grinned and shrugged his shoulders before snapping away on his camera phone, while many others got out of their cars to arrive at better photographic vantage points.

On my end, it seemed as though Murphy's Law was in full effect. I thought the Dumbarton would be faster than the directions with which I was familiar; today, that was clearly incorrect. I also consumed a tall cup of coffee before hitting the road this morning, which left me dreaming that a Porta-Potty would manifest itself in the neighboring lane. It didn't. Furthermore, my cell phone battery was low, and I was briefly concerned that I'd be unable to contact anybody if conditions on the bridge worsened somehow.

But there was no need to worry! The police arrived first, and cleared the right-most lane for the remainder of emergency services to pass through. Minutes later, numerous fire trucks arrived; the smoke disappeared within minutes of their arrival, though I think the smaller flames took some time to extinguish.

I sat in my car for about an hour and a half, during which I listened to Avenue Q, read a few pages of The Kite Runner, texted my brother, explored some of my car's features, watched the news helicopters circling above, and lamented that I didn't own a car charger for my phone.

An interview with a policeman on the radio informed me that the accident had been caused by a car colliding into an oil rig, and that luckily, there were no fatalities. I got a good look at the fire's aftermath while driving over the bridge, and the car was a charred, broken mess.

As I exited the bridge, all I could think about was how wonderful emergency responders are. My interaction with policemen, firefighters, and paramedics has (thankfully) been extremely limited over the course of my life. But today, I got to see them in action. They responded quickly and they seemed expedient in their actions. The police eventually instructed all cars to merge into the left lane, which were to remain in until we reached the toll plaza at the bridge's end. When I passed the bulk of the police cars and fire engines, I could see how neatly they'd arranged everything; cones were set up, the policemen were scattered at proper locations, directing traffic, and in the brief interaction I had with them, they were calm and friendly.

But here's hoping my next journey over the Dumbarton is a little less eventful.

Forever Young

While in San Francisco this past Sunday, my friends and I stopped in at The Tipsy Pig to grab a late lunch.

The accommodations and decorations are a little more worn-in than the website's pictures might lead you to believe, but it's on par with what I'd expect of a place with such a lively bar atmosphere. Our hostess seated us in a large booth in the establishment's corner, giving us a nice vantage point to see about half the restaurant, as well as the entirety of the bar.

I was a little surprised to see the blatant youth of the clientele—not a single patron looked to be over the age of 35. While restaurant/bar combos tend to draw in a younger demographic, it's not uncommon to see at least a couple of people who are older, or at the very least, a few families. The Tipsy Pig had none of that. Instead, a large number of the patrons seemed to be those who are stuck permanently in college mode, despite being in their early 30s. It's interesting, though, since the restaurant itself was a lot classier than its inhabitants make it seem.

But I digress. We arrived at the restaurant merely minutes before the kitchen closed for brunch (it opens again about two hours later, for dinner), so our menu included several breakfast items as well.

I ordered the brick-pressed chicken sandwich, without nearly all of the toppings (bacon, avocado, and blue cheese dressing, though I kept the Roma tomatoes), and a side order of sweet potato fries. I swear, I'll go anywhere that offers them to me.

The sandwich was fantastic; the chicken was both tender and moist, and the ciabatta bread was soft—that hardly ever happens. And what can I say about sweet potato fries that hasn't already been said? I polished mine off, and enjoyed every minute of it.

Check it out, if you get a chance. The menu's inventive and the food is delicious.

In the Streets of San Francisco

I spent the bulk of Sunday exploring San Francisco with two of my close friends, one of whom had never been to the city. I've seen most of the city's tourist locations years before, on a family trip to the city. Yet nearly everything we did and saw on Sunday was brand new to me.

We started the morning off with a trip to Coit Tower; from the top of this building, you're able to get a 360 degree overhead view of the city. Take a look!

On the left, you can see Pier 39 and Fisherman's Wharf.

In the distance, you can also see Alcatraz.

The Bay Bridge. The weather was unsurprisingly foggy that morning.

A brief exploration of North Beach followed, with pit stops at City Lights, a boutique, and a café for a much-needed caffeine fix. In addition, we briefly wandered into a corner of Washington Square Park, in which an art gallery was set up.

We followed North Beach with a drive down Lombard Street, which was the only part of the day's events that I'd previously seen.

After a tasty lunch, we drove down to Crissy Field, which provided us with ocean-front views of Alcatraz and the Golden Gate Bridge. See?

If these pictures look gloomy, that's because it was overcast and cold. Really cold. My already-low threshold for cold temperatures has plummeted to embarrassing levels since moving west.

Next, we drove through Golden Gate Park, which seems beautiful, and which I think I would really enjoy if I ever lived in the city.

Our final stop was Twin Peaks, from where you can get even better views of the city than those we saw from Coit Tower. But as I mentioned, it was freezing (especially due to the altitude and the sun beginning to set), so we didn't stay long. It's a fantastic view, though, and I'd love to see what it looks like on a bright, clear day, or even during sunset, on a day when the temperatures are considerably warmer. Next time.

I would have liked a brighter, less foggy day for sightseeing, but the day was so enjoyable overall, that I really can't complain. And now that I've tackled nearly every tourist attraction in the city, I can spend my time exploring some of the city's other offerings.

Feed Me All Night Long

I had dinner with several of my close friends on Friday night, at B Street and Vine in San Mateo.

There are many things to like about this restaurant: the live music, the vibrant, funky ambiance (the light in the bathroom glowed a bright pink), and of course, the menu.

They carry some standard café fare, such as paninis and salads, but this place's forte is their bruschetta. For 12 dollars, you can select four different (or all the same, if you're feeling particularly bland) kinds of bruschetta. Each kind comes with four pieces each, and so that alone can serve as your entire meal. It's such a creative idea; I don't know why there aren't more restaurants who have thought of it.

I chose the fresh mozzarella with tomato and basil (the classic, and for good reason); feta, cucumbers, and tomato (it normally comes with olive tapenade, but I requested to leave it off); roasted red pepper roumalade with tomato and goat cheese; and, at my friends' insistence, gorgonzola and honey.

All four were absolutely fantastic, although the gorgonzola and honey was a little too sweet for my liking. And it's a perfect meal to eat in groups; we all enjoyed sampling and trading pieces.

I'm still appreciating the inventiveness of this restaurant's owners, to create such extravagance out of what is generally just a run-of-the-mill appetizer. I'm already looking forward to my return trip. My belly is, too.

Rocking and Rolling Over Lofty Incantations

Guess what I did today?!

I accomplished my long-time goal of wanting to visit City Lights Bookstore, located in San Francisco's North Beach.

My friends and I were in North Beach for a portion of the afternoon today, and they were kind enough to indulge me and visit the bookstore. We didn't stay for very long, but I just wanted the opportunity to see the store in its entirety. At first glance, the place looks like a quintessential independent bookstore, with shelves packed with everything from modern fiction, to obscure literature.

But a closer look reveals the history associated with the establishment, one that the store's website details. Many of the signs that adorn the walls are (Lawrence) Ferlinghetti's own work, and there's a certain rustic quality to much of the store, from the creaky staircases to the decrepit windows.

I fell in love with the Poetry Room, which takes up the entire second floor, although the room itself is rather tiny. This room houses the store's poetry collection, as well as the full collection of the Beats' work. There are a couple of antique chairs, as well as an old table, but other than that, the room is open and sparse.

Downstairs, you could feel a little bit of the whispered bustle that persists in bookstores, but in the Poetry Room, all perusing was quiet and calm. There's a hallowed nature to the room that I'm sure is felt only by those who spend their lives geeking out over literature.

As I stood in front of a jam-packed shelf, flipping through collections of Pablo Neruda's poems, I was so hyper-aware of my presence in such a eminent location (nerd alert!). The site served as a launching pad for so much of the Beats' writings, texts that I spent years parsing and discussing in college. I'll never forget the first all-nighter I ever pulled, my first semester of freshman year, to write a paper on William Burroughs' Junky.

I think I could spend all day in this bookstore, particularly the Poetry Room.

And with any luck, one of these days, I will.

C is for Cookie

I was in Target this afternoon, perusing some crackers, when a package of Mother's Cookies caught my eye! The delicious, glorious, Vanilla Creme Sandwich Cookies, to be specific.

Now, I'm not really a fan of sweets, and it's been years since I willingly purchased cookies, candy, or dessert of any kind. As a child, however, my palate accepted a greater quantity of sugar than it does now, with Mother's Cookies being among the preferred varieties.

Since stores don't carry them back east, I assume that my attachment to these cookies began on one of my many trips out to Southern California. I used to inhale these things in a way that can't possibly have been healthy.

I don't particularly remember what it was about the taste of these cookies that set them apart from the infinite number of creme sandwich cookies that inundate grocery aisles, but whatever it was, I loved it.

And despite my lack of desire for sweets, I stood in the aisle at Target, drooling over a combination of yearning and nostalgia.

One of the difficulties in moving to a new location can be the absence of things and places that you enjoy. For instance, I desperately miss Dunkin' Donuts. Try as it might, Starbucks' coffee just isn't the same, although their establishment has the benefit of free Wireless. I also occasionally crave bagels from my hometown's bagel shop and the prevalence of diners.

It should go without saying that I also miss the luxury of having someone pump my gas for me.

But seeing the cookies this afternoon reminded me that every location has their own joys to offer, with California's ranging from Soup Plantation, to an abundance of hiking trails. Oh, and the weather.

And I can't wait to discover more.

* The name of this post can be attributed to this song, which is a blast from the past of its own. I am only moderately ashamed to admit that I still remember all the words.

Sugar, Sugar

Yesterday evening, after a delicious home-cooked meal, my friends and I decided to get some frozen yogurt in Mountain View.

We decided upon Yoogl, which is pronounced just like "Google," and whose logo bears an uncanny resemblance to the online corporation. I feel like this can't be legal.

The frozen yogurt is self-serve; a customer selects a cup and then walks over to the machine and fills it to his/her heart's content. There are eight flavors available, though the flavors themselves seem to vary on any given day. Once the cup is full, there is a toppings bar available, which boasts most of your general toppings, such as Oreo crumbles and mini M&Ms, as well as an array of fresh fruit.

I am, of course, the most boring person alive when it comes to dessert selection, so I filled my cup mostly with chocolate yogurt. There was an oatmeal cookie flavor, which intrigued me greatly, since I adore oatmeal in any form. So I pumped a little bit of it into my cup, too.

Not one for any serious additions when it comes to my minimal ice cream/frozen yogurt/cake consumption, I opted for rainbow sprinkles on top. Chocolate with rainbow sprinkles is my staple combination, and it's extremely rare that I ever stray from this in any way.

The yogurt itself wasn't anything to write home about; it was perfectly average. All of my friends agreed, although one did point out that the granola was good. I did like the idea of the oatmeal cookie, and I actually liked the flavor, too, although it was too sweet for me overall.

Also, while the idea of self-serve frozen yogurt is a new and novel idea for some, there's a place near my hometown that's been offering just that for over a year and a half now, so I find it a little less innovative than some.

Yoogl's decor is modern, and very stark—it radiated a little bit of coldness, as a result. There is a table of random board games that sits across from the cash register, so we decided to play a game of UNO. The version of the game they have is close to archaic; we didn't recognize the pictures on several of the cards, despite our familiarity with the game. I suppose the games they have might all be donations, rather than purchases.

I doubt I'll be returning, though if I do, it'll be because it's there, not because I crave what they're offering.