Category Everything is Terrible

Mellzah vs the city of New York, Also Known As My Badly Photoshopped Vacation

We took an Amtrak train from Albany to NYC: normally I’m pro renting a car on trips, but in this instance, I wanted nothing to do with driving in New York City proper. Or finding parking. Or paying for parking. Or any of it, really. So the train it was, and I discovered that train travel is actually really awesome. The seats are enormous, as is the gap between them. They recline enough so you can actually sleep and you don’t have to worry about cracking into someone’s knees when doing so. I loved it, and I’m definitely going to explore my options for future travel by train. But enough of my gushing: I was feeling a little off when we left Albany. By the time we pulled into Penn Station, it hurt to swallow and my head felt even larger than normal. Uh-oh. But maybe I wasn’t getting sick. Maybe all I needed was a rest in the hotel room and I’d be ready for a fresh start the following morning.

NOPE. By the next morning, a full blown war was raging in my body. Sore throat, stuffy head, cold sweats…the works. Oh, and I got my period, too. Fuck me, right? It wasn’t fair. I hadn’t licked a subway pole or eaten at Subway! But colds don’t give a damn about fair, and I was forced to cut down my NYC to-do list significantly. So without further ado, here’s the badly photoshopped vacation I should have had:

Brooklyn Museum Mini Statue of LibertyOriginal photo by Neil R

Holy shit, it’s the smaller Statue of Liberty in Brooklyn outside the Brooklyn Museum! Why is there snow on the ground in August? Quiet, you!  I would have been all over their Egyptian installations as well as their 19th century modern exhibit. Now I can only imagine how awesome it could have been.

cronutOriginal photo by Rachel Lovinger

Wow, a cronut from Dominique Ansel Bakery! So delicious! So trendy! I love trendy food! And eating! I would have gotten up at the asscrack of dawn and waited in line for an hour to eat this, at which point I probably would have pronounced it not worth getting up for, but the point of the thing is to try it, not enjoy it.

 

Giant Penny NYCOriginal photo by Danny Birchall

I found…a giant penny! Could this be the best day of my life? I actually went looking for this thing because y’all know I’ve got a thing for pennies but I think the address listed in Roadside America was a bit off, so it eluded me and I was too sick and crabby to keep looking.

MMuseummOriginal photo by Panda073

Mmuseumm, NYC’s smallest museum. Located in an alley, only open on the weekends, collections rotate but once included a selection of fake vomit, and the permanent collection includes the shoe thrown at George W Bush. I live for this shit.

Ninja RestaurantOriginal photo by Alan Teo

What do I love more than overpriced food in a kitschy setting where there’s an element of fake danger and possibly things are lit on fire for my amusement and the whole thing is attached to a gift shop? Fucking nothing. I would have eaten every goddamn tofu ninja star in the place, bought the t-shirt, and ninji-chopped things on the way back to the hotel.

NYC Museum of ScienceOriginal photo by Adnan Islam

The NY Museum of Science in Queens has a minigolf course that teaches you about science while you curse at a ball and artificially lower your score. I’m a scientist. I fucking love mini golf. I’ve been known to enjoy a museum in my time.

Obscura OdditiesOriginal photo by dishfunctional

I would have bought so much shit for our house at Obscura Antiques and Oddities. I want my house to look like a creepy-ass museum full of shit that people have no idea what to do with when I’m dead. Maybe we would have run into Amy Sedaris who supposedly lives down the street and shops there all the time. Maybe my life would have been complete.

Queens MuseumOriginal photo by Katie

The Queens Museum has a bunch of the remaining World’s Fair stuff (there’s another one coming soon, right? Before Friday?) and a sweet panorama of 1964 New York in perfect miniature scale. YES. Fuck yes. I would have totally gone if I didn’t have a sobbing breakdown in Grand Central Station about how tired and sick I was!

Smorgasburg BrooklynOriginal photo by Howard Walfish

Smorgasburg Brooklyn, an addition to the Brooklyn flea with 150 bomb-ass food stations and a killer view? I would have eaten myself poor or to death, whichever came first.

 

Rockefeller CenterOriginal photo by Flodigrip’s World

Wow, we’re on top of the world! Look at all of those sights we could have seen!

NY Transit Museum Subway CarOriginal photo by Kevin Case

Public transit in NYC is awesome. Maybe not 100% of the time if you’re commuting or what have you, but it’s generally easy to get where you want to go and transparent to visitors which makes it a million times better than the system in Seattle, which I have to assume was set up and is administered by people who actively hate people who take public transit. At the Transit Museum,  I was going to learn their secrets and bring them back home, like a hero.

Greenwood CemeteryOriginal photo by Jason Eppink

Inside the Greenwood Cemetery is a statue that originally stood at City Hall, was moved to Queens, and was eventually banished to the cemetery for being too ugly and offensive. A statue with a mostly nude man stomping on mermaids called The Triumph of Civic Virtue. A statue that Anthony “Dick Pic” Weiner wanted to try and sell on Craigslist. That’s right, that guy was offended by this statue. I wanted to bear witness to it in person.

OMG Amy PoehlerOriginal photo by Hard Seat Sleeper

Oh wow, we got tickets to Asssscat 3000 and Amy Poehler was there! She’s so funny and awesome! I’m so glad I was able to go instead of spending the night shivering and sweating in a hotel room!

Ghostbusters BuildingOriginal photo by Charlie Phillips

Oh wow, it’s the Ghostbusters building! And it’s still haunted by Slimer! Good thing we’re there and kitted out in ghost-fighting Viking gear!

MurricaOriginal photo by Josullivan.59

Amurrica! Statue of Liberty! I feel so patriotic in its presence, like I could haul around a ton of guns in public because that’s what patriots do! I definitely didn’t just take a peek at it in the distance before boarding the Staten Island Ferry and decide to turn around and go back to the hotel because “eh, I’ve seen it”. No way, it was totally inspiriring. Bonus: what it would have looked like if we went up into the crown if tickets hadn’t sold out months before I even thought to check!

Ghostbusters Statue of Liberty Head

 

 

 

All photos used under a creative commons remix  license, some non-commercial, some share-alike, with the exception of the last photo which is a screencap of Ghostbusters II and used entirely without permission. Amy Poehler also appears without her knowledge or permission.

In Defense of Traveling Like A Tourist

tourists

“Tourists don’t know where they’ve been, travellers don’t know where they’re going.” Paul Theroux

“Please be a traveler, not a tourist. Try new things, meet new people, and look beyond what’s right in front of you.” – Andrew Zimmern

“The traveler sees what he sees, the tourist sees what he has come to see.” – G.K. Chesterton

“The traveler was active; he went strenuously in search of people, of adventure, of experience. The tourist is passive; he expects interesting things to happen to him. He goes “sight-seeing.”” – Daniel J. Boorstin

“If it’s tourist season, why can’t we shoot them?” -Anonymous

 

Picture  a tourist in your head. Mostly likely, you envisioned someone with a camera strapped around their neck, wearing ill-fitting shorts, some manner of shirt with a tropical print or beer logo on it, fanny pack clamped to their waist, and a stripe of sunblock down their nose. Maybe they were even wearing socks with sandals. You may have additionally determined that this person is ignorant of the local customs, of the language, and is looking for the most mundane, prepackaged  experience and wondering how they can find the closest Applebees. Don’t get too caught up in your elitist fantasy: that person is you.

Now, you may not necessarily look for a place where it’s “always Friday” and you may have studied the language or read up on the culture. You may dress impeccably. But if you’re visiting an area in which you do not live for the purposes of pleasure or experiencing culture, you’re a tourist. Tourist shouldn’t be shorthand for ignorant, but it’s been this way for years: people mutter about the “damn tourists” in their town, and fancy themselves “travelers” instead, romanticizing a synonym, waxing rhapsodically about their style of travel,  and drawing imaginary contrasts between  the two words so that they can justify looking down their collective noses.

Lately, the buzz on blogs and magazines and even television is to travel “like a local”: do what locals do, eat what they eat, sleep where they sleep in order to have a more “authentic experience”. It’s a new way to draw a line in the sand between what they do and tourism, and it’s equally arbitrary, and equally rubbish.

Locals eschew the wonders in their own backyards

How many times have you talked to a friend who lives in another city/state/country and asked them about a famous landmark or activity, only to have them respond “Oh, I’ve never been there.” You think “What?! Why not? How is that possible, you’re right there, it would be the easiest thing in the world for you to go!” Turn that eye inward: what in your area have you been “meaning to visit” and “not gotten around to”? A museum? A famous building? A natural landscape? A highly-rated and/or expensive restaurant? How much do you know about local history? Would you say that someone who travels to the area should follow in your footsteps, that it would be the best way to experience the area?

“Like a local” fetishizes a certain type of local

“Travel like a local” is, at its best, disingenuous. The people filling their Pinterest boards with high contrast photos of exotic locales with twee quotes about travel written on them aren’t aching to actually travel like a local. They don’t want to get a shitty job, come home to an overpriced, poorly furnished craphole of an apartment, eat something from a can, and worry about bills. No, they want to travel like a local rich person: someone who doesn’t have to work,  eats 16 course tasting menus,  and whiles away their days on a lazy bike rides. It’s not that those are bad things, they’re just not the experience of the average local. You want to see new places, make new friends, try new things, and that’s grand. But you don’t want to travel like a local. Not really.

“Local” long term expats shouldn’t be your guide

So many travel guides recommend you locate expat hangouts because you’ll be able to get a wealth of information about the area from them and may be able to cultivate a “local” friendship while you’re in the area. That’s partially true. What you’ll mostly find among any group of expats: an unbelievable amount of complaining. The weather, the traffic, the people, their customs, the food, the health care, the cleanliness…if you sit among a group of expats, what you’ll learn is that everything is terrible, that they hate it all, and everything is so much better back home. This group commiseration is normal; they’re no longer in the honeymoon period, and they need to vent with a group of people who will understand their frustrations. But is that really the best  way to see a country: through the eyes of the disenchanted?

There are no secrets

We live in an age of boundless information. There’s plenty that an individual can learn, but there’s scant “discovery” left on Earth. We were born too late to explore Earth, and too soon to explore space. What’s left is tourism and individual enrichment. You can profess that you have “the heart of an explorer” but the reality is that there are no “best-kept secrets” anymore.  There are no restaurants that only locals know about in the age of Yelp and blogs. If people like something, they talk about it. Even the best restaurant in the world will go under if no one knows it’s there! Thus, the rub with the “travel like a local” crowd: Are you not going to visit the highest-rated places just because tourists know about them now, too? Which do you want more: the experience or the sense of elitism?

You’re not fooling anyone, anyway

You may have learned some French in high school, maybe brushed up before your visit with the Rosetta Stone. You may place orders in French and dress très chic, sitting at a cafe with your croissant and coffee with nary a fanny pack to be seen. Still, one wrong ‘vous’, an unusual accent,  will out you. And yet the world will not end. Locals may actually be more inclined to help you: to give directions, to be more patient when you’re fumbling with their currency or language. And there are some areas of the world in which you never could pass as local, no matter how long you spend in the area…and that’s ok, too.

Tourism makes the world go ’round

Well, not literally. Physics does that. But economically, tourism is vital, regardless of whether you’re eating at a street vendor or a chain restaurant. Tourism bridges gaps between disparate cultures and peoples and creates opportunities for employment for locals. To roll your eyes at those who visit Paris and beeline toward the Eiffel Tower or those whose primary goal when visiting Seattle is to go to the top of the Space Needle is to roll your eyes at tourism itself: the impetus felt to see a wonder in person, to touch history, and to better understand the world we live in. No, locals may not visit those places more than once, if ever, but sites that drive tourism are just as important as your favorite hole-in-the-wall bagel joint. Moreso, actually, as they bring money into the area that’s vital to growth and allows smaller spots to survive that otherwise wouldn’t.

You may only get to visit once

Ironically, there’s no one more dedicated to avoiding tourists than the elitist tourist. I once read an article about a woman who took a class on her trip, just so she could smugly ascertain that there were no other tourists present. …Congratulations? Unless you’re an heiress, you’ll never have as much travel time and money as you’d like. The average American earns one week per year, and of that week, uses four days of it…that is, if your employer offers paid vacation at all and doesn’t penalize you for actually taking the vacation time you’ve earned. Disneyworld may claim “it’s a small world after all,” but unless you make travel a priority in your life, you’ll likely never visit all of the places you’d like to go. So why would you spent your  travel time trying to live up to someone else’s standards for where you should go and what you should see or feel embarrassed about what you like?

If you want to visit every tourist trap on Earth, visit every tourist trap on Earth. If you want to rent a room through AirBNB and only eat at Michelin-starred restaurants, go nuts. If you want to hike across a country, do it. Don’t let any magazine or elitist hipster douchelord blog tell you that you’re doing it wrong, because “the best way to travel is ____”. When it comes down to it, no matter how you style your trips, you’re a tourist…and that’s ok. It doesn’t make you ignorant, or disrespectful, or anything other than someone seeing the world on their own terms.

Masticating with Mellzah: The Strawberry Shake Ya Booty

In June 2011, I went on a trip to Vegas where I made fast friends with some strangers there on a poker tour and I got hammered with them at the Treasure Island bar across from the pirate show, because that’s the sort of thing I do. Put me in a room with a bunch of strangers and eventually I’ll know their life stories and have made plans to vacation with them by the end of the night. While there, I had one (well, two) of the most delicious drinks I’ve ever had in my life: a strawberry lemon mojito. It was so perfectly summery and refreshing on a hot and sticky night that I hounded the bartender until he told me what was in it, which I wrote down, shoved in my pocket, and never saw again.

…until this week. I don’t know where it went, and I don’t know where it came from. One minute, I was sorting papers and the next minute it was in my hand. I was so excited about finding it again, not only to make for myself, but to share with you. How fortuitous that it’s strawberry season, I thought. I’ll make it and photograph the steps like a food blogger, I thought. This is going to be easy. This is going to be great.

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There was only an eensy problem in that the list wasn’t all that specific in terms of proportions or, well, anything. It reads:

  • Cruzan strawberry rum
  • mint
  • strawberry lemon juice
  • soda water
  • pinch sugar water
  • shake ya booty

I was going to have to improvise.

I don’t know whether shake ya booty was the name of the drink or my drunken way of saying that the drink needs to be shaken. The whole “voting liquor into the grocery stores” thing sounded like a great idea until it turns out that nobody stocks this specific strawberry rum on their limited shelf space. Did sugar water mean simple syrup? What kind of strawberry lemon juice? Would strawberry lemonade work? I could feel my confidence waning already. This was starting to sound like something on Pintester: one of those ones where she subs all of the ingredients and the preparation and wonders why it didn’t turn out. But I still had some hope that I could create something that bore some resemblance to the drink I’d enjoyed so much, and could tweak it from there, so I attempted to make it with standard mojito proportions, muddling some lemon, mint, and strawberry, adding white rum, simple syrup, and club soda, with a splash of strawberry lemonade.

…It did not look good. It did not look good at all. The taste was no better. It looked and tasted like nothing so much as what came up after the long night of drinking and room-spinning. That’s right. It looked, smelled, and tasted like liquid vomit. I’ll spare you the picture.

It looks like perhaps food blogging is not in my future.