My luck landed me in Africa in winter time. Not bad, but I wish I’d brought a sweater. My first question to the taxi driver was – “what month is it here?” “June,” said the driver sporting the best “you idiot” expression I had ever seen. June it was, and Cape Town was gloriously beautiful. But South Africa still wears years of conflict and bloody history on its sleeve – dumpy townships pile up on the outskirts of the city while mansions dot the magnificent ocean front. It was only fitting that I started reading “The Power of One” on the 12 hour flight over.
Bad weather that is. Baku has still not sprung into spring, which sucks because I was expecting sunshine, bird-singing and all glory. Alas, wind and rain is all I get. My first day here we visited a children’s prison where they are staging plays about saying no to drugs. Now I am convinced that I need to adopt an Azerbaijani delinquent child – they are so sweet and cute, I wonder what crimes they could possibly have committed. Also I have been fed to almost deadly fullness for the last three days and going along with the ancient Azerbaijani tradition postulating that guests never pay for anything.
The capital of Kyrgyzstan simply rules. Aside from having some of the nicest people and prettiest children in the world, it is also leading the post-Soviet space in production of delicious fresh-baked breads, really bad cognac, and foreign donor monopolies.
I wish everything in my life was as sweet as the blue PT Cruiser that I drove to DC from Brooklyn. Truly a lovely car that made me feel warm inside. Anyways, I am in New York for an undetermined period of time due to the lack of swiftness on the part of Hungarian authorities. Read more…
Our cheap deal to Saint Louis got us out of La Guardia at 6 am, and landed us in Memphis at 8:30 local time. During a quick pit stop at an airport barbeque place, starved D devoured a delicious country-ctyle sandwich filled with slaw and turkey. On we ran to our 8:59 flight which brought us to the glass doors of Gateway to the West at around 10:15. Aside from me having a vitamin B-induced allergy attack within the first hour of our visit, which brought minute terror over the house, a great time was had by all.
We managed to see Chihuly at the Botanical Garden, eat pasta at Cunetto on the Hill, go to a trendy Chocolate martini bar, visit the town’s world-famous child – Anheuser-Busch Brewery, and eat a Route 66-worthy Ted Drews concrete. We also saw Colin’s soccer team “the Dragons” take on errr some team with a snake name. Obviously Colin’s team won. And of course we got to cook, eat, drink, laugh, and spend lots of quality time with cute as a button Carter.
Last century’s city of working-class immigrants from Western Europe, Saint Louis still prides itself on having some of the country’s best old-world Italian restaurants. Cunetto on the Hill, Saint Louis’s oldest Italian-American neighborhood, doesn’t call itself a “house of pasta” out of sheer grandeur. The palace of pasta, more likely, the place serves simple and delicious Italian pasta favorites. My asparagus linguini in cream sauce was an absolute winner, and the portion lasted for another meal. The minestrone soup was also tasty and, reportedly, so was the restaurant’s attempt at a healthy meal – a dish of baked bass.
Address
5453 Magnolia Ave
St Louis, MO 63139
Map
D’s sister Lisa, one of my favorite Saint Louisians and definitely my most favorite mom, took us to this place in St Loui’s newly restored Lafayette Square. The city’s oldest historic district, with some houses and mansions dating back to the Civil War, Lafayette Square is a tour guide’s delight by day, and by night a hang out spot for herds of enlightened city dwellers. Read more…
As a self-claimed snooty beer lover, I have been snubbing Budweiser for years of living in the US. So the brewery tour to me was an event of pure investigative significance. Who knew that at the end of the tour two beer samples would be offered to us for free! Impatient, we listened the guide’s shrill remarks on the factory’s origins and magnificence.
Taken over from a small Saint Louis operation by a German immigrant Eberhard Anheuser around 1852, the plant roots the rise of Anheuser-Busch – now the world’s third largest beer brewer. Anheuser’s son in law, Adolphus Busch, soon joined the business and the two decided to christen their beer “Budweiser” because it was well-pronounced by Germans and native English speakers alike. Read more…