To Do lists

It’s true, we tried all but one of the restaurants on our “Places to Eat” list — and then some. We hit up the vegan Swan Dive the last weekend it was open, and its replacement, Hammerheads, is one of our favorite spots to take visitors. We first visited Hillbilly Tea around this time last year, and after a long brunch followed by a walk around downtown, went back for late-afternoon tea (there were drinks at the Galt House and beers at the Main Street BBC in between the two visits. It was a decadent day). Sadly, the closing of the Sherman-Minton bridge has added another obstacle to reaching New Albany, so it’s been a while since we’ve been back to Bank Street Brewhouse (the biggest obstacle in reaching New Albany is laziness. Crossing a river, regardless of bridge conditions, somehow makes a drive more arduous). Since our last visit, I’ve developed a taste for Bloody Marys, so I’m ready to go back to brunch and the Build-Your-Own-Bloody Mary bar. And sometime last spring, I finally made it to Bodega, the tapas bar in the Highlands. The food is pretty tasty, but the bar is what keeps drawing us back.

There are places that never got added to the list, but became goals as they opened: Garage Bar, Harvest, and most recently, Rye. We’ve tried them all, and now we’re aiming for Maa Sha-Allah, a West African restaurant Gabe learned about through work. Louisville is a great city for eating — in fact, we’re currently second to Lafayette, Louisiana in Southern Living‘s “Tastiest Southern Towns” competition (you can vote here).

There is only one place on our restaurant list that we still haven’t hit: “the Filipino place,” or Sari-Sari. It’s still open. It’s right next to El Mundo on Frankfort Avenue. According to their website, it’s even been mentioned in Southern Living (this blog post is turning into a mini-advertisement for a magazine I don’t even read). And they have a buffet on Fridays.

As for the “Louisville to Do” list, it’s a little less complete, but most of the unchecked boxes are for sights outside of Louisville: Cumberland Falls, Mammoth Cave… ok, those are the only two, but add the Red River Gorge and Cave City to the list. Locally, I still haven’t been to the drag show at Connections or visited the Muhammad Ali Center. And this year, I’ve really got to get to the Derby, even if it rains.

I’m thinking with some good planning, I could knock out the local To Dos in a weekend. Dinner at Sari-Sari, followed by a drag show, and then a museum visit the next day. Who’s in?

I started again on January 1st this year, and so far, have successfully taken a photo each day. Since I work from home now and don’t actually have to go out each day (and when I do, it’s either mid-day and really bright, or after sunset and dark), I’m already finding myself reaching the end of the day, going, “Oh… I need to take a picture.” At this rate, I have a feeling there will again be many photographs of Gabe doing stuff around the apartment.

One of my favorites so far.

If you’re interested, you can follow along on Flickr. I’ll also go ahead a plug another photo-a-day project. Clare lives in California, and is taking a daily photo of the Pacific Ocean. I’m jealous.

Back in August, my friend Melissa introduced me to a Louisville landmark — or at least something I look forward to seeing when I take Frankfort Avenue to River Road. It’s the facade of a house. I biked out to it in September to get a closer look.

According to Wikipedia and Unusual Kentucky, the facade of the Heigold House is one of the few remains of the Point neighborhood, an area populated by wealthy ex-New Orleanians in the 19th century. The rerouting of Beargrass Creek and the 1937 Ohio River flood contributed to the eventual disappearance of the neighborhood. The facade was moved to its current location to make room for condos, although I can’t find out exactly when.

So now I know what that is. Next up? Finding the carved rabbit statue.

I originally printed these photos for an International Women’s Day event, where I also spoke on reproductive health justice in Togo. The images feature Togolese women and girls, who were my closest friends during my time in Togo. They welcomed me when I arrived, showed me how to carry water from the pump (a short-lived endeavor on my part), made sure I was appropriately dressed for the mosque on the important holy days, guided me through the village (it was a small village, but I still needed help finding the middle school), and saw me off each time I said “goodbye.” They let me advise them on how to care for their children’s health, even though I have no children of my own. At least one told me she wanted me with her when she delivered her fourth child.

I haven’t kept up with these women, but they are the ones I wanted to work for most when I was in Peace Corps. I was a health volunteer, but I wanted to be a Girls Education and Empowerment volunteer, and I did as much women-focused work as possible. In November 2007, I biked the length of Togo to raise funds for the Karren Waid girls’ scholarship program. Karren Waid was Peace Corps volunteer in Togo who died in a car accident in 1993. Her family set up this scholarship fund in her name, and since then, it had been managed by current and returned Peace Corps volunteers and Togolese nationals. Volunteers distributed funds to the scholarship girls, helped select recipients, and monitored their progress.

In 2008, the Karren Waid fund became Pathways Togo, a non-profit focused on providing scholarships and mentoring to Togolese girls. This year, they funded 44 scholarships. It costs about $20 a year to send a girl to middle school, and $50 for a year of high school. The photos on display at Heine Brothers are $50 each. I will be donating any proceeds from the show to Pathways Togo (minus Heine’s fee). If you are located in the world outside of Louisville and are interested in purchasing a print, send me an email or leave a comment. The photos showing can be viewed here.

If you’d rather just make a donation to Pathways, this link will take you where you need to go.

Perhaps one day Waco’s “Known For” will change from “Cult and FBI standoff in the 90s” to “Home of Dr. Pepper” (there’s a museum). Maybe it will become better known for the Texas Sports Hall of Fame, or the Texas Ranger Hall of Fame and Museum. By then, I doubt I’ll have a reason to visit, as I expect my brother will have moved.

For now, Waco does have one attraction that I wanted to see.

A zoo. With three month-old tiger cubs.

Happy Thanksgiving birthday to me.

“No. That’s her real accent.”

This was my second time in Minnesota, but I was told that now, away from the Twin Cities, I was seeing the “real” Minnesota. I’m not sure what that means, apart from the accents and lots of farmland. But I liked it.

I went to Rochester for four days to visit a Peace Corps friend who was home from her current teaching job in China. I spent the first two days working from her uncle’s house, which is about 16 miles west of Rochester (which, for the record, is 60 miles from Minneapolis, and not a suburb like I thought). There’s not a lot out there, but there is wifi, which is all I need to work. On Friday, we left the country home to do the grand tour of Rochester.

Downtown Rochester

The day started with breakfast at Dunn Brothers Coffee. Apparently, this is a chain, but it was new to me. They offer full breakfast, and after our egg sandwiches, we had breakfast dessert (pumpkin bread and a cinnamon roll).

To work off the breakfast dessert, we did a significant amount of walking, first at Silver Lake, which is more of a very large pond. A power plant nearby keeps the water warm enough so that geese stick around Rochester year-round, which means an abundance of goose poop — so much that a local artist made goose poop art that was displayed at the Mayo clinic. After visiting the geese, we headed downtown (which is about five minutes from the lake) for more walking.

A sad specimen of the Minnesota state bird.

I’ve heard that St. Paul and Minneapolis have sky-walks connecting buildings so that Minnesotans can minimize their exposure to the bitter winters. Rochester has a similar system of sky-walks and tunnels connecting parking garages, a shopping mall, and the hospitals (on Thursday night, we got from the parking garage to right around the corner from our dinner destination without having to go outside). Since it was a fabulous fall day, we didn’t take full advantage of the tunnels and sky-walks. But it’s good to know they’re there, right?

A sky-walk connecting a parking garage to the courthouse.

Our downtown exploration started at the mall (the Shops at University Square), where we visited Amanda’s favorite Barnes and Noble. It’s in an old theater, and it’s even better than the old Houston Bookstop (for one, this one is still open). The building is on the National Register of Historic Places, the old ticket window showcases books, there’s a castle on the second floor, and the ceiling is royal blue with little pin-prick stars. I want to be a cat and live in that place.

From the best Barnes and Noble ever, we walked across the Peace Plaza to the Mayo Clinic, where I tweeted my location. I now realize “At the Mayo Clinic” is a concerning tweet to get without any context. It was just part of the tour, since the hospital plays such a major role in the town. A new building, the Gonda Building was added about 10 years ago, and it’s full of granite and marble and art. The main foyer has a Chihuly, and several Warhols hang in the hall next to the cafeteria between Gonda and the old building. Rather than going to an art museum, school field trips go to certain floors at the Mayo Clinic to see specific art work. Unfortunately, we didn’t see the goose poop paintings. But we did take in some interesting sculptures around the clinic:

Weeeeeeee!

Before lunch, we continued our walking at Quarry Hill, a nature center with trails, paved paths and caves. We found the quarry. It looks like a desert at this time of year.

In the afternoon, we picked up another Peace Corps friend who’s in his first year of med school at Mayo. He needed some apples, so we went to Sekkap’s, an orchard and pumpkin patch. We bought apples (I got honey), then went through the tiniest corn maze ever. It really wasn’t a maze at all, but it also wasn’t meant for adults.

From there, back home to the middle of nowhere (between Mantorville and Kasson!) for a fabulous dinner of cheesy potatoes. I’m a little disappointed I didn’t get to have the famed Minnesotan “hot dish”… in fact, I still don’t know what it is, besides some kind of casserole. I also didn’t eat cheese curds. But, the morning I left, we visited Amanda’s dad in his renovated barn-home, where I sampled elderberry jelly, corn cob jelly, and and honey butter. All very tasty, you betcha (for the record, I didn’t hear anyone say that, ever).

When my family lived outside of Dallas, my brother and I frequently tramped around a creek behind our house. We’d put on boots, walk through the electric-tower-lined field behind the houses to a trail that lead down to this creek. We waded through the water and scrambled up and down the banks when the creek got too deep. We saw tadpoles, crawfish, a snake (that was once, with some friends, and we ran all the way home), a mysterious footbridge, and once, terrifyingly, what I can only describe as a biker gang.

In August, I was walking in Cherokee Park, when I decided to take a dirt path instead of one of the paved trails. I saw this tree over Beargrass Creek and edged my way down the steep bank to get a better photo. Being by the water got me all nostalgic for my creek-exploration days, but it also reminded me that there are all kinds of lovely things to be found just moments from my doorstep… and everywhere, really.

About a month later, I listened to Terry Gross’s “Fresh Air” interview with Maurice Sendak. It made me cry like crazy, but this quote stuck with me:

“It is a blessing to find the time to do the things, to read the books, to listen to the music.”

Sendak was speaking about aging (just before, he says, “It is a blessing to get old.”), and that theme was what got me all teary-eyed. I’m sure it’s true, but why wait until we get old? I can’t do it all, but I think it’s important to find time to read the books, listen to the music, meet up with friends (or just call them), see your surroundings, and explore.

Now.

Omer

Paulette

Omer and Paulette are strangers 32 and 33, both photographed at the Art Car Parade a few weeks ago.

Omer plays flute with the March Madness Marching Band. Paulette drove her art car (which is also her regular car) in the parade and was sketching the band’s performance, because her camera’s memory card was full of video. You can visit her at mermaidsdontcook.com. This is her car:

Here are some of my favorite photos, but you can see the full set on Flickr.

The Heaven and Hell Car

Heaven and Hell Car detail

March Madness Marching Band’s hoop dancers

I love a good marching band.

Cousin Jason

I extended my stay by a few days so I could visit with my cousin, who’s an event planner at an Alameda winery on a former naval base. He’d invited me to a “Wine Rodeo” as soon as I told him the dates of my visit. Since I love free stuff, wine (in an entirely uneducated way, as in, “I love drinking wine”) and my cousin, I said yes, and invited a friend who lives in the city.

On Wednesday, my cousin asked if my friend has a car. I’d looked at a map and knew we had to cross a bridge to get to this winery, but our carless state didn’t seem like a big deal. Cousin takes a ferry, so I figured I could do that, too.

On Saturday morning, I was slow in leaving my training accommodations (not the best pictures here, but it was fantastic) and moving to my cousin’s. Around 2, I finally felt able to thinking about getting to the winery (the event started at 4). I called my friend, who was not up for a trek across the Bay and was not encouraging about public transportation.

…I was slow in leaving my accommodations on Saturday morning

“Yeah, but then you have to take MUNI downtown, and then take BART and then another train…” So I decided, “Whatever. I’ll go alone.” I did some Googling, found out it would take me about two hours to get there, but still: “Whatever. I’m going anyway.”

People. I do pretty good research before I go places, but since I thought I was going with a local, I was not prepared. Without a car, going to Alameda from the Richmond neighborhood is a trek. The bus to Fisherman’s Wharf, where I was catching a ferry, took me nearly an hour (I managed to catch a slow bus). But as this was almost the only exploring I got to do alone, and because there was a ferry involved, it was an adventure. Really, I think I just wanted to ride a boat.

Fisherman’s Wharf is a big tourist trap, which I would have known had I read this article  before my trip. But hey, sometimes, a tourist trap can be fun. Not so much on a sunny Saturday when you’re hungover, but this is where my rushed Googling showed me I could catch a ferry. I went to a touristy sourdough place for lunch, had an overpriced grilled cheese on sourdough bread (I don’t even like sourdough bread, but yes. Hungry and tired), then waited for the ferry.

A few notes on the ferry ride:
1. I’m so glad I went.
2. It was cold on the deck, but worth it.
3. Those ferry boats go fast.

Once the ferry dropped me off at Alameda, I had to walk about a mile and a half to the winery, first on a road with no sidewalk, then through the old naval base past abandoned, overgrown buildings. I arrived at the event at 7:40, 20 minutes before the scheduled end. Apart from wanting to ride a ferry, I really wanted to support the cousin and see this winery. The event took place in an old hangar, with giant doors that swing, rather than slide, open. Cousin got me some wine, I bought Gabe a bottle, and I took photos on the airstrip. Looking back at the city, I congratulated myself on sucking it up and hauling myself across the Bay.

Wine party in the hangar

At 8:10, I had to turn around and power walk back to the dock to catch the return ferry (the one after didn’t leave until 10:15 or something). The ferry workers asked if I was getting off at the Ferry Building, and to change it up a bit, I said yes. Trying not to look too much like a starry-eyed tourist, I wandered around until I found the trolley I needed, then wandered some more, pausing to photograph sewing machines in a window and walk up and down stairs at Union Square Park. High off my little victory (because, really, all I did was ride a ferry and manage to find a winery), I loved everything that night. But I know when to stop (sometimes) and eventually gave up trying to arrange any meet-ups and went home.

So that was it. The next day, I went to a beach, the Castro and the Haight, most of which just reinforced my California dream (I do not care for the hippies). Am I searching for plane tickets back right now? Yes.