Deep Dish, Denied

It always happened, like clockwork, every couple of months or so. We’d be sitting on our beach blankets or chatting with friends at a local eatery, and the Midwest would inevitably come up in conversation. Usually it started when a transplant living on the eastside got stuck in westbound traffic and felt it a requirement to let everyone at the table know that when he (or she) was living in New York the public transit was brilliant, hell, just accessible. Invariably, someone else would list another well designed city, until eventually we got to Chicago. In unison, everyone shook their head that it truly was a fine, commuter-friendly city. “Expect for those gawd awful winter,” someone would chime in. Again, the head bobbing would ensue.

I’d seen the photos, I’d heard the stories, I knew the Cubs sucked for a century, but I needed to see it for myself. But not before grabbing some nosh in the liberal oasis that is Madison, Wisconsin. Receiving a fine recommendation from a friend, we stopped into a place, ironically named, The Weary Traveler for some classic Midwestern done with a contemporary twist. Basically, beef and cheese cooked by granolas (the nuevo hippies). Getting to the grub was a treat. Within the confines of the city lay a charming brick-building part of town full of cute shops and smiling pedestrians, giving the area a nice heartbeat. The restaurant served up some amazing dishes, the atmosphere was comfortable and our server was exceptional friendly. I’d say four and a half out of five stars, if I had yelped it.

So far so good I thought to myself, as my car suddenly screeched to a halt an hour out of Chicago. To make a long, painful story of alternate routes and stop-and-go short, the traffic in and around ‘Chi Town’ is an absolute shit show. It’s no wonder the mass transit is quality, for had it not been, riots would have destroyed the city decades ago. Looking at it optimistically, it gave us plenty of time to see the ins and outs of a place I was still very unfamiliar with.

We pulled up to my friend Courtney’s apartment, an area called Lake View (two hours later than planned) and attempted to park. Again, I will jump past the debacle that was parking in town, and say that Courtney had a lovely, shared three bedroom flat complete with all the charm one would expect when living in a city built of brick. We ate a dinner of beer and protein and headed to bed eager to get an early start on our weekend of sightseeing.

Operation Windy City
We brought a visiting vengeance on the city that I most closely liken to a blitzkrieg approach to tourism. As if my ankle injury had been simply an old memory, we walked all over Chicago, and then walked it again. For all I kept hearing about the amazing rail system, the ‘L’, I wished I would have pulled my hiking shoes out of my suitcase sooner. My dearest design school friend, Courtney and her boyfriend, Dan (long-time Chicagoan), the troopers they were, valiantly guided us through their city. And when they were tending to their own lives, we lead ourselves. We checked out Wrigley Field, the Naval Pier, and the remnants of the Columbus Fair (as I had been reading Devil in the White City). We took an architectural boat ride down the Chicago River; saw old buildings, new buildings, Trump buildings and tower buildings. We strolled through Millennium Park, saw a metal jellybean and hobbled past the Chicago Theatre. We ventured to Lake Shore Drive, Haymarket, Michigan Avenue and host of other popular destinations. About the only thing we didn’t do was eat a deep dish pizza and that’s because it was silly expensive and I already knew I was not a huge fan. Sorry. If it was free, cheap, or visible from the road, we saw it. By this point in our trip we were getting a bit concerned with our spending and viewed Chicago with the eager, optimistic but rather monetarily challenged eyes of say, student travelers.

All-in-all, I really enjoyed the Windy City and recall on several occasions stating that if this city didn’t turn into a frozen tundra in the winter, I could live here. Alas, just like days past it was time to bid the city farewell and say hello to a new one. (Thanks a lot for the wonderful time Chicago, and hey, at least you’ve got the White Sox just down the road. I know this now because we saw the stadium driving out… and it didn’t cost a thing.)

Lovers quarrel or just Yasmine and
 Justin being themselves?

Dan, he's "acting".

One of the four wedding parties simultaneously
taking original photographs that day. 

Baby Chubb Foot
Art Direction: Courtney Hoover
Photography: Yasmine Molavi

Young Coco ft. Jazzy Jg.

Dead Fish in City
Artist: Anonymous
Photographer: Yasmine Molavi 

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.