Oh the Places You'll Go: Toronto (via Amsterdam)

Well there's no place like home for the holidays.



The FG had a truly fabulous journey from the snowy hills of EDI to Toronto, via everyone's favourite capital, Amsterdam. I have been particularly good this year, and Santa must have told the people at KLM, because when I checked in online 30 hours before the flight took off, I was inexplicably able to reserve an exit row on the short flight and a business class seat for the AMS-YYZ leg. Everyone was /very/ pleased with themselves. I read silly magazines on the first leg, and my current book, and quickly found myself in Sin City. Confined to the airport, of course, but still.

There are endless, and endlessly stocked, duty-free shops at Schiphol (where it was also snowing). Honestly, I found it all somewhat overwhelming, and was therefore quite well behaved. Still, it was fun to look around. For security reasons, we all had to go through security again immediately prior to boarding, which no one enjoys, but the machine that shoots rays at you to determine your level of terrorist intentions wasn't working, so at least it was just a normal x-ray machine. And it was in the second waiting area that I ran into a girl I haven't seen since high school graduation. She was in Amsterdam giving a speech about the work she'd done in post-war Bosnia (wow), and we were on the same flight home.

Business class is a good thing, especially on long flights - but you knew that. There was endless leg room, tons of space in the overhead compartments, the seats were wide and of the fully reclining variety - it was wonderful. There was sauvignon blanc and my meal (some airlines are still serving food, it turns out) was quite edible. I watched The September Issue (which I had unconscionably missed in NYC) and The Young Victoria (which was not particularly good). I started watching Che, but decided that sleep wouldn't be a terrible idea.

Am now ensconced at home for the maximum 10 day period, and am looking forward to frolicking with friends and spending quality time en famille. Happy Holidays!

Oh the Places You'll Go: London (again)

Apologies for not blogging the first trip, a few weeks ago, but I'll summarize it here: Caught a far too early flight, left bags at the station, brunched at Spitalfields, shopped, went to the Tate Modern, Trafalgar Square and the National Portrait Gallery, caught a rugby game at a pub, and caught the train to Essex for a fantastic cocktail birthday party.

This time, we and had more time in the city proper. So:

Caught a plane in the early evening, took the train in from Standstead, checked in to our hotel just around the corner from St. Paul's Cathedral, and grabbed a late dinner at Yo! Sushi - one of the places where the sushi goes round and round past the diners. I also ordered the Spicy Seafood Udon, which was fantastic. Hit the hay early in preparation for a busy Friday.



I got up early, for me, (which was a good thing, because Blackfriars Station is closed until 2012). Anyway, I made it to The Dress Shop in Belgravia and tried on The Dress (again). Then it was back across to The City to meet with a recruiter near the Lloyds of London building. Lunched at Mother Mash - how could I skip pie in London? - and then hopped back on the Tube to Mayfair, via Oxford Street. I was then right on time to meet Mme. Connected for tea at the Connaught Hotel. There was a live harpist in the tea room - it was /something/.

Back to the hotel to switch from my suit into something more comfortable, and off to a pub to meet the Finance Posse for a little more beer than was absolutely necessary, and then to a curry in Brick Lane at Nazrul. Not the best curry I've had in the UK - so far those have been at Indian Calvalry Club and The Raj (both in EDI), but I'm optimistic. Our fellow diners were more inebriated and raucous than we - I'm talking singing at the top of their lungs at 11:30 pm in a crowded restaurant - but we enjoyed ourselves all the same.

Saturday morning we hit Selfridges - we behaved ourselves quite well - and then walked down Bond Street - away from the mad, mad shoppers - for a family lunch. Then a quick trip to the V&A to see the fashion exhibit before we dashed back to the train station (missing the train we really needed to catch) and flew through security, fortunately catching our QueasyJet home.

In case you didn't get the memo

I'm flying off to my new life in Edinburgh tonight, never to return.

OK, not /never/ to return - yes, I can be a drama queen. I expect to be there 2-3 years, before returning to my homeland in the Great White North.

The luggage will at least get across the Atlantic - cross your fingers it gets from LHR to EDI, please!

I'll miss NYC, but I will be back, I promise. And there will be fabulous in Edinburgh, I'm just sure of it.

The Things I’ve Carried, Part 2 (and those I won’t)

One of the things about making a significant move to A New Flat* for the second time in three years is that it’s the perfect excuse to go through things and get rid of the ones you don’t really want (on the grounds that you won’t possibly have the space for them in the new place you haven’t seen yet, if nothing else). An added plus to the “toss” side of the scale this time is that there will another adult human sharing ANF (everyone is /quite/ happy about this) and so I won’t have the full run of, say, the closets**, for example.

It was rainy and gray most of Sunday, so I took the opportunity to give the bathroom a super-thorough cleaning (no, really, you could eat off those tiles), and to go through my closet. It needed to be done for the change in seasons anyway, but I’m also taking a look at the contents – what won’t work in EDI because it just won’t be that warm, for example – to see what pieces I brought here from the West Coast and haven’t worn. Starting with the dress I wore to my university formal.

I loved it at the time – long, red, sleeveless, with a mandarin collar, keyhole neckline, straight skirt and a slit up the side. I bought it on Queen Street West in Toronto over 10 years ago – I think the same weekend I wrote the GMAT. It still fits (almost) but I never wear it, so it’s going. Ditto the black jacket in the same crepe, this time in black, with over sized shoulder pads and small waist that falls to mid thigh. And the beautiful sheer white blouse with gorgeously pleated, un-cuffed sleeves I bought to wear to a formal at RSG in high school – I bought it three sizes too big for an unknown reasons, but haven’t worn it in over 5 years. And the Ted Baker silk top/dress – grey with a lovely pattern and a sash that ties in a beautiful bow behind, but is clearly designed for someone who embraces leggings. I wore it once for dinner and too many drinks in LA with grey tights and brown boots, and got away with it, and wore it again for drinks in NY over gray cords with flats, and didn’t really get away with it, and it just doesn’t work. At least for me. So it’s out.

*I’m trying to retrain my brain. Apartment = flat, first floor = ground floor, etc.

**Assuming there even are closets. The Laird is attempting to manage FG’s expectations re: ANF by setting a scene in which there are, in fact, no closets whatsoever, assuming ANF is more than 10 years old. Apparently I am moving to Armoireville. The FG is confident there will be some closets, but perhaps not as many as she requires. Remains cautiously optimistic that ANF will feature a healthy combination of closets and armoires. Stay tuned.).

Part 1

Extra! Extra! Read all about it!

Now that it's official, I'm letting you in on the latest. Your FG is moving to Scotland at the end of October!

Yes, I'll miss New York - the people, the food, the people, the overwhelming opportunities to do almost anything at any time of the day or night, the shopping, the people, the museums, the people. Did I mention the people?

Yes, it rains there all the time, but not as much as it could.* Yes, it is populated by Scots, a slightly more dour version of the English, but also, one suspects, warmer and heartier once you get through their reserve. Like Maritimers, yes? I adore the ones I've met here, and suspect the renowned Canadian sense of humour was somehow passed along genetically from our Scottish ancestors.

Yes, the television will be completely different - one suspects fewer award shows and more murder mysteries. Yes, I expect to do a lot of reading (which will no doubt be very good for me, based on recent propensity to sit on couch watching TV until the wee small hours of the morning). Yes, the fashion is going to be mad, and yes, I will keep you posted. Yes, I have a lot to do in the next six weeks. Yes, I will miss you, yes, I will be keeping the blog going. And yes, I will take lots and lots and lots of pictures.


No, not all the food there is deep fried, in fact, I had the best oysters on the half shell I've ever had there earlier this summer. They also have lovely cheeses, and have I mentioned my oatcake addiction?

No, I will not start wearing plaid all the time (more about that later), and am hoping not to pick up too much of an accent, whilst shedding the Americanisms that have crept into my normal speaking voice. No, I don't have a job yet; once I find an apartment and my stuff arrives (6-9 weeks), I'll be job hunting. No, I won't be there forever, the plan is 3-5 years and then back to the shores of my home and native land - although I'm aware that those sorts of long term plans sometimes find themselves derailed over time.


It's been almost exactly thirteen years since I moved to the States, and fourteen since I really left the GTA. The good news is that I've been lucky enough to keep my closest friends close, wherever they live, and wherever I live, and I plan to keep it up from the other side of the Atlantic. I miss home, even if I visit 2-3 times a year, but I'm thrilled at the chance to live in another country, an old, old country, for a change. I'm looking forward to living in a place that considers 1776 recent history, and which is so close to Europe, with all the treasures of its history, art, and culture. I hope I have always appreciated the idealism on which the States was built, its youth, and its tremendous potential. Even when I've been occasionally cranky.

So now you know, and can start planning your visit. I promise to keep you posted.

*I'm very pleased to say they average 10 inches less per year than Seattle, which I endured for four years, so I know it's survivable. Notice I didn't say it would be great for my hair.

Oh the Places You'll Go: Caracas

The FG has been thither and yon across this nation and her homeland to the north. She spent the month between final exams and graduation driving 'round Europe, and taught English in the Far East for a year. She even made it to East Africa years and years ago. But until last weekend, she'd never been to South America.

There was a wedding to attend in Caracas on a Saturday night, and we had the points to cover the tickets. I know, you've heard bad things about Caracas in general, and Hugo Chávez in particular, but the bride and groom were taking care of the details, and it meant a lot to them that we were making the trip. After a morning spent at Bliss and a casual afternoon of packing, we hopped on a Continental flight to Houston.

As you may be aware if you've ever looked at a map of the Americas, Houston is not exactly en route to Caracas from NYC. In fact, given that Caracas is east of NYC, it is well out of the way. But like I said, there were points involved. So we flew to Houston. It turns out that, while Continental serves "food" on its flights (which we guiltily consumed), you can't get dinner, or much of anything to eat, at the Houston airport after 10:00 pm. This is not helpful when one's plane lands at 9:45 pm. Fortunately, the executive lounge serves free alcohol until 11:15, and stocks ample supplies of fruit, cheese and crackers. So we nibbled, and flew again.

It's been a long time since I've flown overnight, and I've never enjoyed it. This time, at least we had three seats to the two of us, and I think I got a wink or two, but I'd kept my expectations appropriately low. One of our fellow passengers was channeling Jack Colton - open white shirt, obvious stubble, blonde streaked mane, convertible pants, Camelbak. It was sort of amazing. When we arrived at the airport, an enormous poster of President Chávez and the Venezuelan satellite greeted us. Immigration was easy, and our bags eventually showed up, intact. We went through a final round of security, emerging in the meet and greet area, where our driver would be waiting for us.

Except that he wasn't.

Ways I wanted to start my first experience in South America, with very limited Spanish, definitely included being met by my driver at the airport on arrival. Especially after a night on an airplane, landing at 5:15 am.

We stood about, fending off offers of rides, currency exchange, and who knows what else, waiting for the guy with the secret letters on the sign (not our names, I think for safety reasons). While I can't recommend it, the slightly tense waiting time definitely banished any remaining sleepiness. The driver eventually showed up, citing bad traffic, and we were off.

The traffic was bad, and we were stuck in a tunnel for a good 10 minutes, which didn't help our nerves. While the airport is on the Caribbean coast, Caracas itself is inland, over a mountain range, Cerro Ávila. As you cross over, impossibly balanced, brightly coloured houses begin to cover the hillsides. Called barrios, they pile one atop the other on steep slopes. Most seemed to have electricity, but we couldn't see real roads of any kind and one wonders how people get to and from the city (never mind what devastation would occur in the event of a mudslide). Apparently 50% of the population of Caracas lives in the barrios.

We arrived at the hotel safe and sound after about 45 minutes, and immediately crashed. The afternoon was spent by the pool, resting up for the wedding that night.

Oh the Places You'll Go: San Francisco

The challenge with this post is that one realizes that 'tis mid-March and one has yet to blog the prior trip to San Francisco that took place in December. Ahem.

The trip began with a work component at Stanford. There's nothing like sitting indoors for three straight days talking about violence during regime change in the global south, but it was worth it. Stanford also has gorgeous sculpture garden which I managed to experience peripherally.

Thursday evening found me at the World Affairs Council for a screening of Pray the Devil Back to Hell, a documentary about the role Liberian women played in the peace process, beginning in 2003 (review here). The women featured were among the most beautiful I have ever seen on screen, and their story was inspiring.

Then I met up with The Scottish Cowgirl, My Fellow Canadian, Cookie Monster and Busty Satan for dinner at Nopalit0. Yum! All kinds of things I didn't used to eat. Bad FG! The rest of the week sped by, and we were back in the city for cocktails at Bix, a gorgeous old-school supper club in the Financial District, and dinner at Kokkari.

Things almost went awry at Kokkari. We were seated by a group of giggling girls and an inflatable man doll. Can you say out of control bachelorette party? SCG immediately stood back up and walked us back to the front of the restaurant, where she firmly requested that we be re-seated. It took a few minutes, but was totally worth it. It's just not that kind of restaurant, and we were not in the mood.

Oh the Places You'll Go: Chicago (again)

What can I tell you? It can't always be somewhere new.

In brief, the hotel was cool, until the internets went down and the DVD player didn't work at the same time. I went to an all night Pakistani restaurant, on the recommendation of a cab driver. I bought the aforementioned lavender bag, /on sale/, and two new pairs of sunglasses - I broke a pair on the flight in, and there was a Nordstrom. I rode the L thither and yon, north and west. It was a good trip.

Oh the Places You'll Go: Phoenix II

The Clarendon was delightful. I'm a huge fan of great deals at boutique-style hotels - I spend enough time in chain hotels that when a place with personality has better prices, I'm there. As I was checking in, there was a woman freaking out on their front door - I gather her travel agent hadn't appropriately prepared her for the quirky nature of the place. I liked it. The wireless worked, the staff were friendly, it was perfectly clean, and instead of ignoring the history of the place, they celebrated it with photos and a bust of murdered journalist Don Bolles. I arrived in plenty of time to unpack (for some reason, I brought every piece of navy clothing I own) and get a little work done before my first meeting.

On the second day, I worked in the am, then drove two hours north to Prescott (rhymes with biscuit, not backlot). Drivers in AZ are a little slow, but the countryside was beautiful - cactus-spotted hills gave way to a plateau in bloom - yellow and green due to recent (and infrequent) rains. I was fortunate to visit a beautiful home with an unobstructed view of the sunrise from solstice to solstice, and 360 views of the buttes and valleys surrounding. It was a lovely afternoon and evening.



Saturday I drove to Tucson in the morning, and it was a trip to road runner country. I'm not kidding, I hit a tumbleweed with the Impala (no worries, they just explode). Sunday was a day of rest, and I spent it poolside, drinking margaritas, rotating in the sun, and celebrating Pride weekend with lovely Phoenicians who were having a fantastic time. The fountains danced, the 80's music blared, and the sun made its way across the pool deck. It was a beautiful day. Monday was a frantic series of meetings in Tempe, followed by a meal not worth blogging at Fez, and Tuesday I went home.

Oh the Places You'll Go: Phoenix

Of course, you have to get there first.

Yes, I was booked on American. The good news is that they took care of me, by changing my AA LGA-DFW-PHX trip at a reasonable hour to a United JFK-SFO-PHX trip leaving at 6 am. A 6 am flight means the car arrives at 4 am. Blek. And I hate flying backwards. Of course, the night before was an ANTM catch-up dinner party, and I wasn't packed. Ninety minutes of sleep does not make finding the fabulous very easy, at any hour.

When I arrived at JFK, mercifully in 35 minutes, and got to the check-in counter there was a long line. There were two flights departing at 6 am, and no one to check us in until 4:50 am, on a day when another major carrier had pulled 900 flights. When I got to the counter, it was discovered that while AA had made me a reservation, they hadn't issued me a ticket number, and we were in danger of missing the 30 minute mark, endangering my luggage. I got on the phone with AA and was able to straighten that out in time, but then, because of the nature of my ticket, I was pulled aside at the security checkpoint for additional screening. It was the first time ever, so it was about time, but to do it within 25 minutes of my flight's departure seemed a little much. It also meant boarding the plane without coffee, food or water. Grrr.

I did manage to sleep most of the way to SFO, where I finally got breakfast and water, and then flew back to PHX, in the window seat of the very last row of the airplane. I extricated myself from the long metal tube, suffered the overly cheerful shuttle bus driver, claimed my Impala, and headed off through the desert to The Clarendon, in the hopes of an hour poolside before my first meeting.

Screw California II

Or the wait-staff, at a minimum.

Let's be clear that the vast majority of those involved were more than pleasant and helpful. The hotel staff put up with us politely (although the expression on the face of the bar supervisor on the night we went out for unlimited margaritas in Santa Monica, followed by karaoke night back at the hotel made me want to slide up next to her and inquire, quietly, whether she'd like her face to freeze like that), and in a few instances (when my non-smoking hotel room was clearly in violation of the rules, for example) were stellar.

The night we went to Elevate for drinks before eating at Takami Sushi, I handed the bartender $15 for a $12 cocktail and he made no attempt to provide change. Ahem. I was definitely planning to tip, but I like to choose the amount, thank you very much. The good news is that the dinner that night was excellent (various sashimi and sushi dishes), and the restaurant staff dealt well with the mostly tipsy party of 16 (it was only a semi-voluntary party of 16, let's be clear).

But I digress - this was supposed to be the post about Osteria Mozza.

Josh Lyman and I took a (relatively) long cab ride from downtown to the restaurant. (Oh, and I wore my new Ted Baker top with brown tights & boots.) We were early, so waited at the bar with a cocktail and tried not to be over-engaged in conversation with the gentleman at the bar who was clearly interested in keeping us around. We were seated at the end of a banquette row - amazing how much more room there is in non-NYC restaurants, I wasn't even close to sitting on the annoying women next to us. The waiter, Roman in appearance and hoity-toity in attidude, reviewed the menu with us thoroughly, and we chose the following: Grilled Octopus with potatoes, celery & lemon, Burricotti with braised artichokes, pine nuts, currants & mint pesto, Linguine with clams, pancetta & spicy Fresno chiles, and Guinea Hen Crostone with liver pancetta sauce.

The sommelier, who could have been 12 and was clearly wearing a well tailored Ted Baker suit, ignored Josh's Pietmontese heritage and recommended ... something else (am really going to have to start making tableside notes on the wines), white at any rate, that was fantastic. There was a duck dish on the menu that was served with a side of brussels sprouts (my other regular must have is octopus, as you may have noticed), and Josh asked if we could have the sprouts sans duck. The Roman checked with the kitchen and they agreed to side them for us.

This is where things got ugly.

The brussels sprouts were well cooked, al dente, if you will, but over-vinegared. I tried them several times, but really couldn't eat them. Let's be clear that the rest of the food was delicious. I'd had a recent vinegar-y experience at Smith's (so backlogged I've been there again in the intervening weeks, but soon to be blogged) that suggested serious restauranteurs and their staff sometimes appreciate honest feedback. So when the Roman asked how the food was, I told him that I thought the sprouts were overly piquant. He looked a little surprised (perhaps people in LA fake it with their food?), and said he'd go and check with the kitchen. He came back shortly and proceeded to inform us that the fault was ours.

You heard me. If we'd ordered them as paired by the restaurant, instead of as a side, he said, the sweetness of the duck would have ... counter balanced or mitigated or somehow overcome the vinegar, and everything would have been just fine. Followed with a slight sneer. I was appalled, as was Josh. Given that he'd ostensibly checked with the kitchen in the first place, this is surely a point that could have been made in advance. And he left them on the bill, after we'd complained and clearly not finished eating them. So we skipped dessert and docked his tip. Not a lot, but enough to be noticeable.

And then proceeded to meet a friend of Josh's at a bar called Lola's to wash the taste from our mouths with dirty martinis. Mmmmm.

Screw California

Fresh from the beaches of Hawaii, I had three days back in my apartment - of which I am increasingly fond, perhaps because I am so seldom there - before getting back on a plane and heading west to sunny Los Angeles.

Did I say sunny? How about storm of the century?

So far it doesn't seem that bad. Lots of rain last night, and more coming this afternoon, but I don't actually have to leave the hotel if I don't want to (which cuts both ways), except for coffee, and people are good about doing coffee runs en masse.

But I've jumped ahead of myself, because there's a dinner at Mario Batali's Osteria Mozza to review.

Rogue Wave

Oh the Places You'll Go: Oahu II

The rest of the trip was primarily spent on North Shore beaches - Waimea, Malaekahana and Pupukea. They were practically deserted, extraordinarily beautiful, and exactly what the doctor ordered. Yes that's a real photo to the left. Totally worth the drive from Waikiki.

When traveling, the FG thinks it's important to sample local food (pu pu platters excluded), preferably with a good story behind them. One such item is the malasada, and damn they're good. "Malasadas are made of egg-sized balls of yeast dough that are deep fried in oil and coated with granulated sugar. Traditional malasadas contain neither holes nor fillings, but some varieties of malasadas are filled with flavored cream or other fillings." The FG doesn't believe in tampering with an original, and stuck with Leonard's Bakery malasadas, cinnamon sugar coated. Also visited Hale'iwa Eats and had delish Thai food.

The Vintner recommended a visit to Alan Wong's, and it was worth it. The customer service was excellent - we were 20 minutes late and were happy to have a cocktail and wait at the bar a few moments for our table, but the entire staff apologized repeatedly for making /us/ wait - and continued through the evening. Choosing the five course tasting menu with wine pairings was a no-brainer. I didn't get the wine details, apologies:

APPETIZER DUO:
“Poki-Pines”
Crispy Won Ton Ahi Poke Balls on Avocado with Wasabi Sauce

Lobster Bisque (two tone, served in a martini glass in a yin-yang symbol), with a foie gras and pork mini grilled sandwich balanced atop a parmesan crisp, balanced atop the martini glass

BUTTER POACHED KONA COLD LOBSTER
Shrimp, Honda Tofu Cake, Jalapeño Tokyo Negi Sauce

MACADAMIA CRUSTED ONAGA
Organically Grown Hamakua Mushrooms and Corn, Miso Sesame Vinaigrette

TWICE COOKED SHORTRIB, SOY BRAISED AND GRILLED “KALBI” STYLE
Gingered Shrimp, Ko Choo Jang Sauce

DESSERT DUET:
Chocolate “Crunch Bars” and Coconut Tapioca

The wine pairings were excellent. I loved the soup appetizer, but the poki-pine was warm, as the poke was deep fried in the wonton, and it was a little like the tuna burgers I remember from summer camp days. Let's be clear that I like tuna burgers, but I also really like poke, and this wasn't that good. The lobster was delicious, and beautifully poached, but the tofu cake was too salty. The Onaga was good, and the shortrib was beautifully cooked, but had a strip mall teriyaki dose of sauce that took away from the amazingly tender texture and smokiness of the meat. The desserts were fine and the muscat that came with them outstanding.

As you might imagine, the trip home was a little less exciting, and landing at ORD with a two hour layover didn't help, but I survived. And yes, I tossed my leis into the sea before I left, so I'm bound to return.

Oh the Places You'll Go: Oahu

The thing about spending 10 hours on an airplane, both in terms of anticipation and in actual experience, is that it's tremendously less stressful than a shorter trip. Once you're on board, there is literally nothing you can do about it for the forseeable future, and even the most high-strung people tend to let go a little. A 777 has more headroom than my apartment (OK, a slight exaggeration), but there's ample time and space to get up and move about the cabin, there are plenty of restrooms, the flight attendants preface every announcement with "Aloha and mahalo" (I realize it sounds annoying, but it's actually soothing with time), and everyone is generally in a good mood. How could it be otherwise? You're going to Hawai'i, for crying out loud.

Plus, there were rumours that a snowstorm would hit The City the following day.

So you watch the movies, have your first "The Office" experience, sleep, drink water, walk around, read, sleep more, chat a little (I know! Even the FG wasn't quite herself on this trip.), and the time passes. You watch endless, endless, endless ocean waves until the islands finally come into view, and then it's freaking Fantasy Island, complete with leis, flowered shirts, and overwhelming friendliness. Not to mention Mai Tais and Blue Hawaiians poolside. I keep expecting to see Tom Selleck come around the corner.

But seriously. Am staying in Waikiki, which translates as tourist hell, for the most part, and trips up island are going to have to wait until the work is done. I did make it to Jimbo's for fresh made udon one night, and am resolved to remain pu pu platter-free. There's nothing like sipping gin & tonics on your balcony, watching the sun go down. There are plans afoot for at least one visit to the North Shore (where the beaches should be quieter and the waves much bigger), and a drive down the windward side to see the mountains. And, I have a reservation at Alan Wong's on Saturday night ...

And it's much cooler and cloudier than it's supposed to be at this time of year, btw. I'm not making that up.

Oh the Places You'll Go: Washington DC

I was off to DC for my last work trip of the year, a two day training on an incredibly useful but only semi-frequently used tool in the work toolbox. I'd been run through my paces on it, but the combination of lack of intense training, only occasional use, and the fact that it doesn't exactly suit my mental patterns left me at a loss. I arrived a day ahead, because the conference started early thursday am, and took advantage of the opportunity to have drinks with Josh Lyman and dinner with Desperately Seeking NY.

The trip in from the airport was lovely - a fresh snowfall coated the monuments and parts like royal icing, and things seemed just a little quieter and more majestic. Gentleman that he is, Josh took me to The Ritz for manhattans and dirty martinis. Although he asked for his on the rocks, it arrived straight up, and his balance was impeccable.

After drinks, I went back to meet DSNY in my hotel bar, which was serving a drink once popularized in SATC - unclear what it was doing in a DC hotel several years later, but it tasted good. DSNY and I met up with a friend of his from grad school at Meskerem, where ironically, I'd also been for dinner with a friend from the JET program many years before. The food and honey wine were just as good as I'd remembered. After dinner, we moved to a dive bar for beer and an unexpectedly heated conversation about affirmative action (the short story is that the friend subscribes to the Chief Justice's opinion on the matter). I really need to stop doing that.

The following day was a whirlwind of capital gains tax, flip unitrusts and life expectancy charts. Mercifully, I had dinner with Josh to look forward to. After barely coming to a decision on location, and fighting the lighting of the National Christmas Tree lack of taxis, followed by traffic woes, I made it. Josh had a prime location at the bar at Ten Penh, and got me an Emperor's Geisha (raspberry vodka, cassis, passion fruit puree and sour) post haste. We moved on to dinner - bbq glazed pork ribs, red thai curry shrimp, szechuan glazed eggplant (can't possibly recall what Josh had to eat) and Saigon cinnamon sugar dusted doughnuts with bittersweet chocolate pudding for dessert.

Hopped back into a cab and headed for home. Another day of complicated estate planning calculations, and it was back to NY.

Oh the Places You'll Go: Seattle, again

I know, I've already been to the Emerald City this year, but who could miss the event of the season?! I flew in on Hallowe'en, natch, moved into the Andra, and met up with The Flapper, The Fisherman, a former intern, and Our Lord & Saviour. I kid you not, he walked into Purple dressed as Jesus. As always, He made quite an impression. After a couple of appetizers and a glass or two of red wine, we headed up the hill to Chez Gaudy for more of the same, along with new friends in fun/witty costumes.

The next evening involved a working dinner at Brasa that was disappointing to say the least. Fortunately, I had Second Dinners to attend at Quinn's, the new gastro-pub from the people who brought us Zoe. And Quinn's is next to Caffé Vita, so I picked up some beans for myself and for a colleague who's never had real Seattle coffee (but has listened to me missing it for the past year). The friends were plentiful for Trivial Kate's b-day, the drinks promptly delivered and well made, and the waiter just the right combination of saucy and professional, if that makes any sense. The following night, we met at The Scot's house for pizza and Bollywood! Yes, you've been missing out, and no, Bride and Prejudice doesn't count. So good to see so many of those who remain in the Emerald City (for now).

The event was on Saturday night, and it was fantabulous, as predicted. I wore a new dress, which reminded me that it's OK not to be over-dressed, especially on the Left Coast. And, ladies, a reminder - there is never, ever an occasion not to wear black. And the best part was that after the dinner and the awards, a group of women under 35 gathered in the hotel bar to listen to Helen Thomas hold forth. She was gracious, intelligent and delightful. I spent the rest of the trip with the out-laws, which was lovely, as always.

Oh the Places You'll Go: Toronto

I returned from Texas on Wednesday, worked Thursday and went to Toronto Friday for the wedding of a dear friend I met at summer camp. It was a costume event, so I borrowed a sari, as previously mentioned, from The Blue Fairy, and off I went. The flight was short and sweet - so nice not to change time zones! - and I landed with plenty of time to get to the home of the BFF who'd offered to put me up for the weekend.

Unfortunately, in my haste or lack of research/memories, I confused Dovercourt with Davenport, and ended up about 6.2 km (almost 4 miles) from my destination. I managed to walk and subway my way there, but it took me most of the afternoon, and a fair amount of dragging my suitcase up and downstairs and on and off subways and along sidewalks. When I finally arrived, I'd managed to pick up a bottle of a fav. sauvignon blanc, so there was some downtime refreshment before I headed to the rehearsal dinner. It was a stand-up affair with champagne, lots of food, and many a familiar face.

Saturday involved not sleeping in quite as much as one might prefer, then hanging around and prepping for a birthday party - which mostly involved me reading a Jamie Oliver book while my BFF puttered. We ran errands in the slightly chilly weather. returning in time to apply make-up and apply sari. After an at-home mishap, we applied a binder clip to the front pleats (to great and lasting success), and I headed off to the King Edward. The evening was a smashing success, truly a testament to the fantastic family and friends surrounding the happy couple. And when I got back, the party was still in semi-full swing, so I stayed in my sari and we talked the night away.

Next morning's brunch came a wee bit early, but I got there gracefully and at a reasonable hour, and thank the gods, there were bloody marys. The debriefing could have lasted all day, but there was a plane to catch, amidst the fall-out of the Toronto Marathon, but somehow I made it to Pearson on time, and back to New York.

And now I have two and a half weeks in my own damn house. Heaven, I tell you.

Oh the Places You'll Go: Texas

From vacation in Los Angeles, I went straight to work in Austin, Texas. Blissfully, the flight was as advertised.

Austin was just as hot as Palm Springs, but with five times the humidity. It is the live music capitol of the US, an excellent town for BBQ (Texas does brisket, pork ribs & sausage), and the home of a state capitol building that is intentionally taller than the national capitol building. It is also a deep Blue pocket in an otherwise (currently) Red state.

The troops gathered for dinner at Fonda San Miguel. Much needed mmmargaritas, creamy corn soup, chile relleno de espinaca and tres leches for dessert. The following day was spent indoors in an all day meeting - and when I say all day, I mean 9-6. We opened a well deserved bottle of wine when it was over, and then headed to quick change and attend the Texas Freedom Foundation's Gala & Silent Auction. Jeans were everywhere (although apparently skinny jeans haven't made it that far south) and the thin band of sequins on my top was no match for the glitter already present. The food was less than fantastic, baguette sandwiches, crudites, but a good time was had by all.

Sleeping in was the order of the following day, but we headed out of town for the best BBQ in town at The Salt Lick. It's byob and picnic tables, live music and fresh lemonade. Go go go. And so I went went went to Houston that afternoon to the Magnolia Hotel, in the historic district. Much more my style than the Courtyard Marriott, bless their hearts (yes, I have accent creep). I went to Sambuca for dinner, just down the way. Live music - a traditional jazz band that evening - and absurdly dark lighting - darkening, if you will. The gorgonzola and pecan salad was delish, although served in a bowl that kept tipping over. The dual tuna appetizer that was my main was less successful - the seared tuna was well prepared, but the spices too saucy, and the tartare was like tuna salad - all mayo. Lunch the next day was at Onion Creek Coffee House (Houston trying to be Austin, I was told) in the Heights. And then I went back to Austin, stopping for pecans at Tobias on the way.

Back in Austin, I had planned to visit Stubb's, but they're closed Mondays, so I ended up at Kenichi, which wasn't bad - am considering seeing if I can consume sushi in every state I visit like my co-worker drinks wine from every state. On Tuesday, I managed to visit the Eastside Cafe for lunch, buy boots, and get to Stubb's for not so great bbq (in my inexperienced opinion, under-salted and burnt-tasting) and great live music.

And on Wednesday I came home, bless my heart, after a short and completely inexplicable delay in Raleigh.

In case you were wondering: the weather

There was one cloud in Palm Springs.

Oh the Places You'll Go: Palm Springs & LA

While the FG runs around a lot for work, this time it was for fun. (OK, it was fun on the way to work, but you get the idea.) It's not called tailgating, exactly, but I road the coattails of of a friend attending a convention and headed to Palm Springs, via LAX. The trip from the airport to The Viceroy was longer than anticipated due to the legendary Southern California traffic, but we filled the time.

I've been asked by several people, why Palm Springs? Are you a closet golfer, FG? (As with many such activities, I can golf, but that was not the purpose of the trip.) Are you actually a senior citizen? (Of course not, not that there's anything wrong with that.) It was a chance to get away to a hot place to lie in the sun and do little, if anything.

And indeed, little was done. While we attempted to transport our own luggage to the room twice, we were prevented on the third attempt by Dave, who functions as the concierge. He removed my hand from my suitcase handle. The room was beautifully decorated, and we got the complete rundown on opportunities for spa treatments, exercise (ha!), bicycle rentals, restaurants, room service, etc.

We headed out to find food, and ended up at a cheap little Mexican place with over-sized and delish margaritas. The next morning featured banana and nutella stuffed french toast and a berry smoothie for breakfast on the balcony followed by a trip to the on-site Estrella Spa to book a massage. While there, we opted for a spray-on application of suntan lotion. Perhaps the spray machine was broken, perhaps the word /spray/ has a different meaning in Palm Springs, but what happened was that two women appeared and applied sunscreen to the parts of us not covered by bathing suits. It was a little awkward. I didn't burn, but awkward.

The rest of the day was spent by the pool, adjusting the sun-brella to keep the sun off my face, and slipping in and out of the pool. Dan the pool waiter stopped by around 11:30 and the procession of cocktails featuring fresh pineapple juice and stirred with grapefruit popsicles began, punctuated by a light lunch. The massage was much needed, although a little scent in the lotion would have been nice. We'd wanted to visit the Belgian restaurant for dinner that night (Pomme Frite!) but they were closed, so we ended up at Matchbox for wood oven fired pizza.

The following day we had breakfast and lunch pool-side, and just sat in the sun, reading, swimming, talking and rotating. It was blissful. We went to Pomme Frite for dinner, and went to bed early so as to be up to spend the morning at the pool before the return to LA. We took the long way back, driving south west around Lake Elsinore and above it, through the Cleveland National Forest and Laguna Niguel to the ocean. We stopped at El Adobe in San Juan Capistrano for a late lunch and to check out the photos of former President Nixon and his lovely wife Pat (apparently they dined there often). It was a long but beautiful drive.


We checked into the Chamberlain Hotel in West Hollywood and headed out for dinner, stopping by the Sunset Marquis for cocktails served by a lovely and lithe waitress. She recommended we go to the Bar Marmont for dinner - apparently her sister is the only bartender there with a tattoo on her arm - but we weren't up for the cab ride, so we walked on to The Standard.

The next day took us to LAX to catch flights home and to Austin, Texas, respectively. Stay tuned.