Minneapolis... Isn't that somewhere in Greece?

With Knight's Inn, in my rear-view and my foot to the pedal. I screeched out of Sioux Falls, and towards what would undoubtedly be a more refined experience than the queen city of the west... After five nights of camping and endless motel experiences I was dead set on:
1. Staying in a nice hotel, where my room was located somewhere above ground.
2. Eating some fine food, perhaps something I'd seen on TV, let's say on an episode of No Reservations.
3. Visiting some local recommendations, courtesy of our native tour guide via e-mail, Mike :)

Yup, I wanted to live the good life again and I hoped and prayed Justin would join me, which he gladly did.
With a large can of Pabst in hand, we checked in to the downtown Radisson (thank you Hotwire!) Settled into our room and prepared for a little nap on our sleep number California king sized mattress.

I didn't know much about Minneapolis, only that it was home to some of our favorite artists, in particular, our favorite letterpress studio, Studio on Fire. After a delicious lunch at Brasa, a highly recommended barbecue spot, we decided to try our luck, call them up and ask if we could just take a quick glimpse at where the magic happened. To our surprise Ben, the owner and operator was more than accommodating. Inviting us to come down in a half hour (little did he know we were already lurking out front) for a guided tour.

Content with the day's gallery visits and constant snacking, we decided to visit Piccolo, a restaurant featured on Bourdain's visit to Minneapolis earlier that year. Let's just say that he can sometimes be misleading. Hypnotizing you with his over use of adjectives and well photographed edibles. You are left to discover on your own, that what you drooled over watching on your TV screen, is nothing more than uninspired over layering of flavours in white dishes too large for the 2 x 4" table you're seated at. I guess the moral of this story is, the riches in life are not always the best it has to offer. But, a little bit of good PR will take you a long way.

Sayanora Minneapolis, I will always remember you for your perfectly set type, ginger cilantro mayo, and Pabst on ice...

Class in any state.



Justin's BBQ Chicken special at Brasa, Yum!




The facade of the warehouse spaces that housed
Minneapolis' finest galleries were just as inspiring as their contents.



Entrance to the sanctuary, I was too shy to ask to take pictures inside.

$50 reward for a very loved cat, seems a bit low.
 I would offer at least $65 were Moosh to go missing.
Don't get any ideas Justin!

Probably one of my favourite features of the city's mass transit system,
 the Nice Ride. An inexpensive public bike sharing progrma

Good Knight: Part 3 of 3

Our saga continues with our fateful couple racing the sun itself through the nation’s breaad basket. Just in the nick of time they arrive in Mitchell, South Dakota, home of the Corn Palace, and… that's probably about it. But when you have a delicious golden temple, what else does a town need. Little did gimpy leg McGee (that would be Justin) know he had brought his Persian princess to the palace on the same day that Renaissance man, Kenny Rogers was in town performing. Timing in life is everything. It was an absolute madhouse - the town actually built a fair around the event, overstocked with what else, corn products. Bellies full with America's staple crop; they left happy and humming Lucille.

Tired and road-worn our heroes rolled into Sioux Falls looking to recharge. With Justin driving, Yasmine had been on the phone attempting to lock down some super cheap accommodations. ""Found it," she exclaimed! First they passed the downtown area and headed for the airport. Then, past the airport into a more "rustic" part of town, they came to Russell Street and searched for their lodgings but they were nowhere to be seen. Something was wrong, had the Garmin failed them, yet again. Stopped at the destination flag clearly marked on the GPS there was no Super 8, no massive red and blue glowing signage, only a ramshackled building labeled Knights Inn. Gingerly and a bit reluctant, the two walked in. Well, actually only Justin did because they had found the lowest price by claiming that it was only one traveler in need of a room for the night. Oops, silly kids.

After the so called caretaker explained the name mix-up and their lack of a continental breakfast, due to “renovations", Justin walked out, key in-hand and headed to the back entrance to sneak his partner in crime into their classy basement suite. It wasn't gross as much as it was sketchy. The kind of place that Mahvash (Yasi's mama) would not approve of. As the guilty couple left the next morning, sneaking out the front, where the car was thankfully still parked, Yasmine remarked on the hotel's slogan, "Spend your days out and your Knights Inn".

They couldn’t have agreed more, as they peeled out of the parking lot with a course set for Minnesota. It appeared our nosey duo would live to see another state and maybe, just maybe, get the blog updated. But there was still much road to cover.

Until next time friends…

A palace indeed.

Just some casual corn eating kids.

Apparently corn gets stoned?

Afraid that the camera would get stolen, we are photo less.

Good Knight: Part 2 of 3

With our duo well rested they headed for the Badlands, the Black Hills' neighboring national park. Once back on the 90 something happened. And then it happened again, and again and again - nonstop signage, seen every mile or so, with persuasive messaging mentioning famous donuts, local crafts and over-the-counter drugs. Contrary to Deadwood, and comparable to South of the Border (in South Carolina), Wall, South Dakota, home of Wall's Drugstore was very up front that it wanted drivers to stop, shop and buy. Naturally, Justin and Yasmine respected the bold sales pitch and popped in for lunch and a delicious donut. The couple grabbed three more pastries for the road, uttering that they were "simply trying to stimulate the local economy". How very heroic of our uncaped cross-country crusaders.

High on sugar and 30 miles past the western entrance of their destination, it was here that they decided it may be best to see the Badlands east to west, completely backward of their desired travel direction. Awestruck was the most common expression after entering the park, which got its name from the settlers that were forced to cross through its treacherous terrain with their rigid wooden-wheeled stage coaches. Barren yet stunningly beautiful, Yasmine likened it to a human size ant farm as she peered across the landscape. But, there was little time for hippy talk, Sioux Falls was still quite a distance and Justin had a nice surprise for his lovely lady, if they could get there before sunset.
Will our dynamic duo reach their destination before dusk? Does Deadwood still oppose a threat to our heroes? Can Justin be anymore cliché?

Find out next time on 2SchnauzAbroad.

Classy.

The plain and maple syrup icing were the best.

Wow, Justin reads?

A bit Magritteish with that hat on the horizon.

Good Knight: Part 1 of 3

When we last left our dynamic duo they had narrowly escaped the clutches of the evil Deadwood and its horrific tourist trap. In sticking with the western theme, they headed straight for the hills, the Black Hills. Before venturing into the natural contents of this national forest, they first desired to see the four stone men of Mt. Rushmore. In typical American fashion, Justin exposed his low U.S. history IQ by only naming three out of four of the dead presidents. (Can you? It's harder than one might think.)

As the sun set over G. Dubbya’s beautiful granite locks, the two headed back into central Keystone to find lodgings. They had passed a darling little log cabin park earlier in the day and after finding the rates quite reasonable, they settled in, laid out an extravagant spread comprised of Cup-A-Noodles with duece duece and dined in that fine evening. While out procuring their processed goodies, they were duped into spending hours thumbing through amazing type wells and a massive vintage book collection. This, after they learned cold beer was the only food-like item The General Store had within its wood plank walls. With stomachs growling, they graciously thanked the owner and headed back to their cozy cottage.

Our travelers awake the next morning eager to see the privately funded, Native American monument for Crazy Horse*. Unbeknownst to our bright-eyed couple, this sculpted granite monument, located only 17 minutes from the dead presidents, had been in-progress for over 50 years. The massive three-dimensional mountain carving, ten times larger than Mt. Rushmore was originally designed and headed by Korczak Ziolkowski, an ambitious sculpture who actually worked solo on the project for its first ten years. Justin and Yasmine were rather impressed, but like many visitors, wondered if the monument would ever be completed. Needing more time to ponder the two headed to a lovely little fresh water spring to eat lunch, swim and philosophize.
Will our duo find the lovely littel fresh water spring? Will ants eat there lunch before they do? Will Justin's car farts cause an accident?

Find out next time on 2SchnauzAbroad.

* The Crazy Horse monument is definitely worth a closer look if you are not familiar - the sculpture is mind-blowingly huge and the grounds are practically a compound.



Our founding Persian father.

Why Korczak , I never...

I think we were sold on this place before we even looked at the room.



Purdy.

An earth friendly and completly organic meal. Muah.

This is what 50 years gets you - even with his 10 kids helping out. 

Dead wood.

My father is quite the sci-fi geek, but like any red-blooded American he appreciates a good ole' western flick. Imagine my surprise when he told me that he strongly disliked HBO's original series, Deadwood. In my opinion it had all the makings of a good show - for one, it was on HBO, plus, the cast was solid, and it was based on historical events. I assumed the man would have pre-ordered the box set before the season was over. Why no love? I was told, quite matter-of-factly, "that the characters cussed way too much". This, coming from a man who has never been shy to drop an F-bomb (or three).

Well, Frank would've loved the real Deadwood, not even a sign with the word poop. I, on the other hand, thought the town was, well, shitty. I don't know what I expected but I'm sure I wanted, no, needed more. En route there, daydreaming in my recently “milestoned” Protege 5, I envisioned tattered wood facades, steeds tied to posts, and crusty men in slick hats spitting huge loogies. Oh, and mud, tons and tons of mud. Instead, I witnessed a town grasping for income and its faded glory. Crappy casinos spotted the otherwise souvenir ridden streets. I queried a local passerby for any interesting spots to check out in Deadwood other than the small museum (that did house some pretty cool turn-of-the-century artifacts). He paused for a moment and exclaimed, “ Have y'all been by our new YMCA pool, it's a real beaut. You and your lady friend should have yerself a swim”.

We did not swim. Rather, we marched directly to the car, threw it in drive and did not look back, remiss that we lost our opportunity to strike it rich at Calamity Jane's Gold Panning & Factory Outlet.

Sigh.

OMG, we're here!



Oh, wow, geez, I wonder if it was panned locally.



100,000 And Counting

In the summer of 2003 my parents purchased a Madza Protege 5 as my graduation gift. I know, I was spoiled. Now, seven years later and four trips across the country under my belt, I reached 100k. I have so many memories while driving in the car, but one that I'm most proud of is that I'm seen 46 out of 50 stars, including parts of Cananda and Mexico, most while in the Protege 5.

Can't wait to see the rest. Cheers! To check the video out click here.

My proof.

Yasmine Molavi vs.Yogi the Bear

Putting aside Yasi's extreme dislike for the lovable yet highly idiotic cartoon bear of Jellystone, the (actual) park is one of the true gems of North America.

Due to some poor timezone calculations and a car clock that doesn't change automatically we got into Yellowstone much later than excepted. Fortunately, we snagged some free Internet from Starbucks earlier that day and knew where we were sleeping that night. What we didn't know, was the ranger had assigned us one of the absolute worst campsites on the grounds. Strategicially placed right under a massive street light and sandwiched between the RV entrance road and the bathrooms, I wondered if I had said something to upset Vicky, the seemingly sweet bull dyke who checked us in that night.

We changed sites early the next morning. I'll tell you, I had no idea how aggro tree-huggers could get until we waited in the line up at the entrance of the Indian Creek Campgrounds. I likened it to the gold rush and something out of the Legends of the Fall, Brad Pitt played by me, of course. Apparently, a chair thrown in a site means it's taken and backing up on a one way road with kids playing is totally cool - lesson learned. In the end, we snagged a beaut, a corner lot towards the east end of the grounds that backed up to a beautiful ravine, our ravine. If only I had a stake to claim the land my own.

Our stay in Yellowstone was five days, and while I wouldn't call our daily pace aggressive, we saw about as much as one could within our time frame. First on the list, geysers. Geysers, geysers everywhere. Imperial Geyser, Orphan Geyser, White Dome and Pink Cone, Steady Geyser and of course, our favorite, the Schizer Geyser. Okay, that's not really a geyser but it damn well should be. You don't need an amazing imagination to picture what a bubbling Yellowstone paint pot looks like. Get a huge waft of sulfur to the face and you can practically taste it. Yummmy.

The animals of the park were surely a highlight too - eagles, hawks, wolves, foxes, bison, sheep, elk, deer and meese. That's right, according to our resident Canadian, Yasmine Molavi, the plural for moose is meese, you know, just like goose to geese. Thankfully I wasn't driving, for had I been we most assuredly would of ended up in a ravine, perhaps surrounded by some local meese.

Hmm, I wonder if Yogi eats meese or if he's restricted to just picnic baskets?




"Why hello, Vicky!"



Love this pic - no touchy.

But just in case the signs didn't work, they drew up this amazing illustration.

Crystal Pool was probably my favorite. It looked so inviting.
Thank goodness for those caution signs.

Gibbons Falls in Firehole Canyon.

Welcome to our humble abode.

These idiots didn't get the memo that there are three times
more bison incidents than bear attacks in Yellowstone.

Idaho, you-da-hoe.

The title of this post has absolutely nothing to do with its contents. In fact, it's not even that funny, and I know it. I mean, Fraticelli and all of my copywriters wouldn't even entertain the notion of this title.

Ahhh, how very pleasurable.

As we pulled away from Vancouver (windshield wipers on, of course) I was excited about embarking on our northwest American adventure - another first for me. Once we hit Interstate 90 the weather become storybook. Contrary to Yasi's recollection of the trip, I even did a bit of driving that day. Thank god for cruise control and a desolate highway.

Around late afternoon we figured we could get to Coeur d'Alene, just passed the Washington border in the northern panhandle of Idaho. Apparently, French Canadian fur traders gave the local Indian tribe the name, which directly translated means "heart of the awl". In layman’s terms, they were tough negotiators.

We decided to stop off in Spokane to grab some groceries and stumbled into this great natural grocery store, Mother's Cupboard. After borrowing a salt shaker and some pepper, as well as cutlery from the food court we picked up some very fresh salmon, greens, apricots and potatoes (naturally). All we needed was some firewood and we were good to go. Unfortunately, they didn’t sell any. Or that’s what Bob, the tiny, bearded man with thick black frames told me as he was shelving the new milk inventory. About 5 minutes later as we were about to check out Bob flagged us down. He said, “Ya know, this might sound a bit strange, but I live three blocks up from here and you're welcome to as much of the wood in my shed as you would like”. We looked at each other for a second, shrugged our shoulders and said, "why not." We jotted some directions down and sure enough when we got there the shed was unlocked, full of dry wood, and nobody named Billy Bob with a jack-o-lantern smile waiting for us. We wrote him a nice note about karma, left it in the shed and shoved off.

When we got to our campsite in Coeur d’Alene we set up camp right as night fell and started a fire. I am proud to say that not only was I able to start the fire with just one match, I burned an Ed Hardy ad in the process. I don’t know if it was that, the gifted wood or the feeling that the trip was in full swing but the fish tasted divine. I remember thinking to myself, I’m pretty sure this is what our adventure is all about.

Bearded Bob, in all his milk stocking glory.

Bob L. Wood's shed.

Dusk at our campsite in Coeur d'Alene

Burn Ed Hardy, burn!!!

{insert chest thumping here}

A Tuesday Wedding

After two days of driving detox, we headed from Vancouver to Anacortes, Washington for Melodie and Calvin’s wedding; the first of three weddings, on our summer circuit. Karin, Dave, Dan, and their facial hair (not Karin’s) picked us up early on Monday morning, to beat the border rush. Well, not really, that was the plan but who can hold Dan to a schedule; planning is for sissies and those lacking good facial hair.

Being forewarned by our fellow wedding goers, that the border line up was anywhere between 2-4 hours long. We decided to play the Duty free card. This basically entails buying a pack of gum at duty free and using their express lane, to whiz through the border. Turned out the express lane didn’t prove to be very express. So we resorted to Plan B: Boozing in the car, Jägermeister shots to be more specific. This plan proved to be much more efficient. And before we knew it we were at the Anacortes ferry terminal, where 15 or so other guests were also eager to partake in taking pulls of Jagger  or the “coffee” game as we called it.

We arrived in Doe Bay (on Orcas) in time to catch the tail end of the rehearsal dinner. This was our first visit to the San Juan Islands, a chain of three islands to the northwest of Washington State. The area prides itself on locally grown produce and an amazing variety of meats and seafood.

The next three days were a blur of great eats*, good friends, and highly rewarding games of kancho. Melo and Cal’s wedding was possibly the sweetest wedding I’ve ever been to. The groom had even made the bride’s dress! (I don’t think you can get any cuter than that).

*yes, that was Justin and I hovering around the oyster bar, like two vultures stalking prey.

The coffee addicts on the ferry, with our very own live band.

Karin trying to fit in the facial hair club.

Baked eggs with white cheddar, and the most delicious grits ever!

The picture says it all.

A display of the Japanese love for Kancho.

Wedding card, painted at the wedding.

Eat it, Vancouver!

Just as expected, after Yasi's guarantee of sunshine, Vancouver delivered about four solid days of rain. But it was fine, she was tired from all the driving and I was in need of a place to elevate my foot and take a load off, after an exhausting last week in LA.

I love going to Vancouver and seeing the Molavi clan, because as with my family they take eating very seriously. Sure we saw a couple of sights, visited a few friends and thumbed through the old family photo albums. But soon after we finished having a laugh at Yasi's little boy phase and progressive haircuts we got right back to business. Food. And I loved every minute of it.

Even though it's been several generations since my relatives lived in Italy we carry on the custom that food brings family together and the Persians (or the Iranians if you're reading this Soroush) are no different. It may be tea instead of coffee or ghormeh sabzi instead of lasagna but at the heart it's exactly the same. Take family and friends, throw in a smorgasbord of good eats and you have yourself quite a memorable time.


The Molavis and some white dude grubbing at Hi Nippon
 (more commmonly known as High Nipple).

  




Wednesday night reggae dancehall at Shine. Ba ba.

Boyzzzz just wanna have faa-un. They just wanna...

  

Are you from the Cricket family?

I'm actually jumping ahead a bit here, but frankly, I need to vent. I understand that I'm probably being an oversensitive narrow-minded traveller here but what's with the chirping. An example:
"So Yasi, did you enjoy your dim sum dish that you..."
CHIRP CHIRP!
"...that you seemed to..."
CHIRP CHIRP!
"Never mind!"

Basically, after meals (especially in Indonesia) it seems that it is customary to try and vacuum the remaining food particles lodged deep within your teeth. From what I can see, the method is to first pull your lips apart, press them firmly against the gums, direct your tongue to the piece of, we'll say, pork stuck between your, we'll say, canine and first premolar and suck. The outcome is a high frequency sound that I would equate to a high pressure sporadic faucet leak or the common cricket.

General table manners vastly differ from culture to culture - salad fork on the outer left, eat with your hands, slurp, don't slurp. I get that. The irony enters when you notice that there are toothpicks on every table, every hawker stall, food cart or structure even slightly resembling a place to consume sustenance. Some people even have cigarette cases just for tooth picks, so it behooves me what the necessity for the sucking is. And believe me, I've tried it. Unless my form is horribly off, it's pretty ineffective.

It gets better. It seems that this post-eating ritual has made the leap. Yes, apparently it likens itself to the quarterback who licks his fingers before he hikes the ball and consequently licks his finger before performing any task. Either that or it's a type of tick commonly associated with a form of southeast asian tourettes that I'm unfamiliar with. On several occasions our taxi drivers found the urge (or compulsion) to chirp every 30 to 45 second. Fan-tastic!



It's official, there is one thing I most assuredly do no like about this place. Oh, that, and the smell of sauteing chillies. Really, it's actually noxious.

It must be time for a ginger tea, I sound cranky.

Driving through Trees

After a night in Fort Bragg, a town full of ex-military men and the dirtiest hippies I have ever seen we headed to Portland via the PCH. We stepped out at 6am eager to make good time to be in Portland by dinner. Driving Highway 1 really tested my already poor driving skills. This trip has opened my eyes to who I am and enjoy being in life: A PASSENGER. 

A few hours into the day, the thick morning fog cleared, just in time for us to visit the Chandelier Tree (yes, we enjoyed some super touristy sites) in Leggett, California. This 315ft tall coast redwood tree, has a 6' wide x 6'9" high hole cut through it's base allowing you to drive, skip or cartwheel through it. Though my driving skills were tested again, I highly enjoyed this experience.

We arrived in Portland at 8pm, and were greeted by our host Gavin, who not only offered us his room, but  also took us to one of the best micro breweries (Deschutes Brewery), and 80s dance clubs I have ever been to. After a night of dancing (on a bum ankle) and drinking, we were comfortably tucked into Gavin's bed and ready for another day of more high energy activities: eating, drinking, and driving (not necessarily in that order).

We woke up early on Saturday, determined to try Tin Shed cafe for breakfast; a recommendation from our fellow foodies Ethan and Roxanne. After a hearty breakfast of poached eggs, biscuits, rosemary-mushroom gravy, and coconut milk jasmine rice porridge (my favorite) Justin and I were once again on the road, headed for what I had promised him to be a sunny summer Vancouver. A city completely different from what he had experienced the previous winter...



The morning fog.




Protege 5 going through the Chandelier Tree.



Vitamin B at Deschutes Brewery, Portland, Oregon.



Devoted Dragon boaters.




Girls just wanna have fun at Portland's Crystal Ballroom.



Blurry dancing monsters.

Tin Shed cafe, a love of hippies and hipsters alike.



If only all traffic was accompanied by airshows.