It turns out German rest stops look a lot like American rest stops.

Okay, so you know how sometimes you get on a plane and you think, 'This plane will land in the location I chose and paid for!' and so even though the plane may be delayed two hours before taking off, that's okay! You're going where you want to go!

Except for now. The gig is up, people. It turns out airlines can take you ANYWHERE THEY WANT TO. Like say you board a flight and you think it's going to Munich. That's the ticket you bought, after all. It says it right there, on the ticket! Munich! And everybody else around you is ALSO going to Munich, so you are definitely not boarding the wrong plane.

So you're feeling pretty gosh darn confident you are on your way to the city of your choosing until about ten minutes into the flight, when an announcement is made. 'Hey! We're not going to Munich. We don't really feel like it. But look, since you bought tickets to Germany, we'll at least drop you off in Cologne! Cheers!' This is like getting dropped off in LA when you need to be in San Francisco. Or Memphis when you're aiming for Tulsa. 

This is exactly what happened last night. You can only imagine the uproar. But it's okay, they say! There are arrangements on the other side to get everyone to Munich! Sure, they aren't FLIGHT arrangements, but come on! You'll still get there! Plains, trains, or automobiles, you should get there anyTIME this week!  

I know. I KNOW. 

So we all get off the plane a short while later, bleary-eyed, disoriented, and not a little upset. We're shuffling around an empty deserted airport at one a.m. in the middle of nowhere and still not sure exactly how it happened. We are then gathered round the luggage conveyor belt and given our options: take a bus now and be at Munich in five or six hours, or take a train at 3:30 and arrive in Munich by 8. They strongly encourage the bus option for anybody who wants to get to Munich early. 

In hindsight, this was a trick. They just wanted us to leave as soon as possible and quit hassling them with our thousands of interjected questions. Tricksy Germans!

So we all shamble on to the bus, like so much brain-dead zombie cattle totally confused and just wanting to be moving in the right direction. Or any direction, really. 

We wake less than an hour later to the smell of burning. SMELLS LIKE BURNING! We aren't sure what it is--plastic? rubber? our bus's soul?--but it's rank and it's bad and it's clearly not going to survive the autobahn and we have to pull over and shut it off before it turns into a giant ball of fire. It will not be coming back to life.

OH YES. THE BUS HAS BROKEN DOWN. 

Our night has officially gone from bad to THIS HAS TO BE A JOKE WHERE ARE THE CAMERAS? Everyone is laughing with hysterical delirium. We are never getting to Munich. We are all becoming friends in our shared disaster. One girl is pretending we are on a desert island together and fighting for survival and every human moment becomes part of the montage in the future movie about us. 

The driver calls a second bus to come pick us up. It arrives nearly an hour later. But we aren't allowed to change buses yet. It seems the local police that have pulled over to watch the show want to make the second bus tow our bus off the highway due to some regulation that said passengers couldn't disembark on the autobahn.  Eventually they give this up as it is clear we are all thisclose to throwing ourselves into traffic, anyway, in a mad attempt to find some other route--any other route!--to Munich so they finally let us get on the second bus. It is now around 3:30 in the morning.

The second bus is more modern than our current bus--maybe 25 years old instead of 30--and significantly more compact. My knees are up around my chin to fit into the seat. But it will get us there. Albeit slowly. Our new driver is a grumpy old man who likes to take a lot of breaks. 30 minutes here, 20 there, 10 there. We see all of Germany in rest stops. Our driver also likes to yell a lot, but the direction of his ire isn't clear. His honking at other vehicles wakes me on a number of occasions but eventually it becomes a soothing background because at least it means we are not pulled over taking a break. 

We finally arrive in Munich at 10 this morning. Roughly twelve. hours. late. I nearly kissed the pavement.

On the bright side, the charming city of Munich appears to be pulling out all the stops as an apology for their airline and bus failings. Snow is falling from the heavens in great plump white swirls of plump swirly whiteness, the shops are all twinkling away, and every two feet is a stall selling sausages or sweets or gluwein or pretzels or dark baked bread. It's a lovely Christmas wonderland. 

And just in case you wondered what Santa is up to this week:

I must take a bit of a nap now--soon two friends are arriving and we'll be off to dinner and more market fun times! Word on the street (actually, word from one of my new German friends from the bus this morning) there's a tiny market in the courtyard of the old palace that's excellent, and a medieval market where they actually dress in costume and serve your drinks in goblets, and a romantic market that's all super duper twinkly at night, and also an art market, and a charity market, and a * on and on and on *!  I really can't wait. So much to do, so little time! And off to Salzburg for a day trip tomorrow! 

I hope you're all having a good week and staying away from all major airlines! 

Big hugs and lots of love, 

Essss

Now to find my mittens.

It's a big day! Notably, my last day at my computer for some time. Right now I should be packing for a night-time flight to Munich-town. This doesn't seem urgent, though. I mean, what do I need? Jeans, boots, coat? I can WEAR all that.

I'm really hoping the Christmas markets will be like that awesome one in Chicago that I went to years ago on my road trip (I still have my mug in the shape of a boot!) or the fantastic one I went to here in London a couple weeks ago, Winter Wonderland (motto: 'We look just like a German Christmas market, if you don't look too closely'). 

These are GERMAN crepes. Don't be so uptight.

They even had curry sausages. Also of German origin.

This is Anna. She is awesome. She is not German, but she totally could be with her rockin' Bavarian style.

Bratwurst. By far the best part of Winter Wonderland, other than Anna's hat.  My love, my heart, get in my belly.  

I can't wait for the shopping. I clearly need a wooden Santa that smokes when you light incense inside him and maybe an elf to sit on my shelf but one that doesn't report to Santa because he's gone rogue and also I think I'd like to try and find a snowflake ornament that's tucked inside a snow globe ornament inside a reindeer ornament all dangling from a sprig of holly in a wreath around the neck of a bigger reindeer ornament. That would be perfect.

I look forward to seeing you soon! I hope you have a very merry Christmas!

Love and hugs,
Esssss

That's right. Another post about hot dogs.

"Stay hungry. Stay foolish." - Steve Jobs

I like to think that I follow Steve Jobs's advice every time I travel. The first thing I plan whenever I'm travelling to any given city is where I need to eat. If I'm lucky, my travelling companion will be interested in museums, boat cruises, and walks in famous parks, and our two lists will come together like magic. If that's not the case...well, I can't be held responsible. Now open up!

In Chicago, this food-centric tour took the form of donuts, hot dogs, and other such healthy, hip-loving delights. The Doughnut Vault being no exception. Everyone warned about the lines that stretch around the block and also how they close as soon as they sell out, but I got lucky--arriving at eleven, I was able to walk straight up to that tiny, tiny counter in that tiny, tiny hallway and load up. I can only assume there was nobody waiting because they all thought the Vault would be sold out and closed by that time. But there were four whole donuts left! A chocolate AND a gingerbread stack, all of which I bought and promptly devoured. That's right. I closed the place DOWN.

(This is what bliss looks like.)

This is also what bliss looks like: pig face at The Girl and the Goat. Imagine a maple breakfast sausage covered in shoestring fries and a perfectly fried egg: basically, all you could ever want in a meal. Also, GOAT CARPACCIO. I know! There was SOMUCHDELICIOUSGOAT on that menu. And not ONE was a curry, thank you very much. It was like I died and went to bleating heaven. 

 

The next day I took my classy, ever-expanding self across town to wait in line for what was to become the best hot dog experience of my life: Hot Doug's. And I actually MET Hot Doug because he WORKS there and I made him take a PICTURE with me. And waiting 45 minutes was ABSOLUTELY WORTH IT. We went on Duck-Fat-Fries Saturday and while they were fantastic, the real star of the show was The Dog--I ordered the Bacon Cheeseburger Dog with Coca Cola BBQ sauce and maple-smoked cheddar cheese and I kid you not, IT REALLY TASTED LIKE A BACON CHEESEBURGER. IN A DOG. There was bacon and cheese INSIDE the sausage. INSIDE THE SAUSAGE! With every bite, cheese gooed out. SERIOUSLY. And if that doesn't make you realize you haven't lived, nothing will. It was, hands-down, the best hot dog I've ever had in my life. That is, until I tried my friend's Chicago Dog. Then THAT became the best hot dog I've ever had in my life. Which makes me think they're ALL the best hot dog I've ever had in my life. EVER.

I actually want to try every single item on this menu. Don't judge me.

And lest you think all I did was eat (uh), check out this architectural boat cruise! It went through the rivers/canals/allthosewaterways and a lovely old lady told us who designed all those gorgeous buildings and I learned a LOT.* 

Like did you know one of the Batman movies was filmed here? I know! I remember all the good stuff. It is SO Gotham City. Look at that fog over the top of the tower. I didn't even photoshop that in.

I'll release you all from my Chicago tour now--two posts on it far surpasses how I usually cover a city. But I couldn't resist storing my food memories somewhere, and here is a much safer place than my head.*

Until we meet again,

Big hugs and lots of love,

Essss

*Mostly that I have zero capacity for remembering names. Which you may have already suspected if you've ever met me at a party.

On Highgate Wood, a new friend, the pleasures of fall, and the difficulties of self-pimping

Remember back when I used to blog post all the time? Yeah. That was awesome. I was amazing.  Don't spend too much time on that link; I think I used to be mildly illiterate if those posts are anything to go by.

In other tidings, I've made a new friend! She is GREAT. We met for the first time after corresponding through our blogs and it was like a blind date and I was all nervous that she wouldn't like me but then she was so much fun all my nervousness went away and now I want to hang out with her all the time but I'm totally playing cool so she doesn't think I'm stalking her. We spent an afternoon in Highgate Wood and it was such a beautiful fall day, all blue blue skies and red and yellow leaves and the light was so golden like an apple that I thought maybe I was in a different place like Vermont or Maine, and I was going to go home to my farm and my chickens and my jug of maple syrup and my barrels filled with something organic from my local market and then I would turn on some Philip Glass while I made dinner. That's how nice it was.

I think fall is London's best and my new favorite season. Normally spring or summer would be neck-and-neck and fall would be somewhere down in 'yeah, when I'm moody' territory, but this year spring didn't actually lead to summer, so I'm still a bit mad at both of them. And if I know London, winter is definitely coming. So right now fall is in the lead, if for no other reason than promises delivered. Go fall!

And honestly. Look at this: 

 I know!

My new bff! If she lived in America, she would totally listen to NPR. You can tell.

And then a ram appeared in the thicket.

Did I mention I have to create a personal brochure? I do. It's difficult for many reasons, not the least of which is that I'm not actually sure what I'm selling here.  It's certainly not my ability to design furniture. And apparently the capacity to spot a designer chair from a mile away isn't something marketable. I'm also having trouble making 'retentively organized' sound artistic and sexy. I'm clearly going to have to start making things up...What would Jasper Morrison say...

I hope you're doing well! I miss you.

Big hugs and lots of love,

Esss

On Chicago, old friends, veal brains, and zoo porn

Chicago. I love it. IloveitIloveitIloveit.

Me and Chicago, we go way back. Most of my past visits are a bit blurry thanks to my dementia and the fact that I didn't have a blog in those days to record things in, but I still have snapshots in my head that tell me I've been there so I'm going with it. Once in college, I went with my roommate (a native) and we snuck into the Signature Lounge in the John Hancock Tower because we were 19 and looked about twelve and wanted to see the view. I remember going another time with a volunteer group and tutoring inner city kids and seeing Cabrini Green pre-demolishment (we weren't allowed out of the van) and all the little girls I worked with wanting to know 'Why I ain't got no baby?' And then, years later, I road-tripped through. 

But this time it was different--I wasn't staying with friends and I couldn't afford to be a lazy planner. I had to pay attention. Chicago became a whole new city to me because of this, and I absolutely fell in love. Not a little credit is due to a wonderful reunion with old friends at a 30th birthday party, around which this entire weekend was centered. (I never miss 30th birthday parties. Especially when the birthday girl is an award-winning black belt.) 

(That's her. Behind the waffle.) 

We had a blast together: we went to the Lincoln Park Zoo, had lunch at Hot Doug's (more on that in the next post because omg! hot dogs!), followed by dinner at the Publican (holy veal brains, batman! So...creamy...), and capped off the whole day with the Blue Man Group. 

(Not pictured: Blue Man Group.)

Have you been to the Lincoln Park Zoo? If not, you should. It's free. I think that's the best part. I'm not really a fan of zoos in general (not because of anything noble, I just think animals are dull when all they do is pace and sleep), but I'll take a free zoo any day. Especially a free zoo featuring zebras molesting one another, which this one did. It was pretty much the greatest thing I've ever seen in my life. I couldn't get my camera out fast enough to capture the wholly one-sided amorous encounter, but I did get a snapshot of the aftermath: 

This is what shame looks like. 

It was fantastic.

I've got to go now--classes began this week and they are NOT messing around. Among other things, I have to research workstations* for a design project and make a giant poster on materials and processes. I know you're all going to clamour for a copy of that poster when I'm done, but I'm sorry to say it's not for sale. You're just going to have to figure out how to cast non-ferrous metals on your own.

I miss you tons. 

Big hugs and lots of love,

Essss

*Does anybody happen to know a designer or architect in London that I can talk to about their workspace? Anybody?