It’s the end of 2013. I hope it was a good year for you. I’m moving. Not leaving New York. Moving Lost in NYC. My goal is to make this my overall travel site and you can find me at TrevinTravels.com. Because I’m Trevin and I like to travel. Lost in NYC will still be a part, but I plan on incorporating new and old pictures from the past and moving into the future. So check it out now, because I put up a new post and bookmark it and come see me. I’ll be bringing in video footage to go with this too so check out Trevintravels.com and spread the word.
OK, I know if you were a faithful reader of my blog, you realized I slacked off over the last year. That’s right, my last post was in December 2012. It’s December 2013!
But the good news is, I’m coming back real soon. I swear. I have a newly dedicated domain name, and I’m in the process of setting it up. I will be moving my Lost in NYC archives over and begin building my travel blog. Don’t worry, I’m still in New York. But I’ll be visiting new places domestic and international, along with posting pictures and stories from past adventures.
Cinquenta! Wuh Shzz! Oh Ship! Funf Sein! Fitty! That’s 50 spelled poorly in five languages. It doesn’t seem like that much until looking back and realizing I’ve been doing this since February. If you think about it, I couldn’t have just come up with fifty posts overnight and made them this awesome.
It reminds me of a sociology class I had to take in college where we had to find a newspaper article each week and write a page summarizing how it related to the class. I neglected to do this until the night before the final and then realized I had absolutely no desire to go back through ten weeks of newspapers, find articles, and write about them. After consulting the course guide, I figured with the “A” I received on the midterm, if I got another “A” on the final, I would make up for the “0” on the project side and still be able to pass the class. When I received my grades, I was disappointed to find that I instead received a “D”, despite getting an “A” of a high enough percentage to work with my calculations. I only miscalculated the professor’s disgust in my slacker underachieverness that swung me from C- to D+. Is there really any such thing as a D+? It’s all D for dumbass.
Do I regret being a bad student? No, I was just purposeless. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. Not all my classes turned out that poorly, but that’s a good example of my feelings of busywork. I understand practice and preparation. And I have extreme confidence in my ability to perform. Game time. On stage. In case of Emergency. I feel the rush of a pressure situation and can keep a level head when everything around me is falling apart. It’s the slow times I apparently don’t deal with so well. But I’m dealing with the persistence of blogging and I’m proud that I made it this far.
Back in 2007 I made a three week trip to China on my own, able to speak maybe 50 words of Chinese. I intended to try and import products to start a business. Eventually I settled on buying about 100 guitars that I sold individually though ebay and other channels. The most fun part of the trip was chronicling my experiences in China as I sent group emails back to friends and family. Apparently, people were entertained by my misadventures and enjoyed the updates. One friend even told me I should be blogging. I had heard of blogging, but I didn’t really understand it. Actually, I’m not sure if I do now. But I got home and thought, yeah I’ll start blogging. And then I sat there with nothing to write about. Honestly, life in Portland was, well, boring. I had nothing to differentiate the days that I spent there. Nothing of significance. No crazy encounters with massive burn victim beggars, or Philipino tranny hookers like I had seen in China. Life was safe, vanilla, and rainy and I had nothing to write about. I would put myself more fully into the whirlwind of the past five years by heading off to Alaska, but that is a tale for another time.
My point is I have had the persistence to put up 50 posts. Definitely being in New York City has been much of the inspiration for what I have put down here. The good, the bad, the decadent, even if you only know a fraction. If anything, this blog has been a way for me to celebrate three great loves of my life. Travel, writing, and music. They have all been vehicles for inspiring and reinvigorating me. As I said earlier, I was slightly purposeless when I was younger, but it has slowly begun to come together. To steal a line from Tolkien or the back of some hippie’s VW bus, Not All Who Wander Are Lost. Not forever at least. I’ve been feeling a change in the air. Or maybe I was just listening to David Bowie.
I’m on my way out of Denver. I’m trying. There’s been some heavy hail and even tornadoes on the East Coast. I was supposed to fly out at 1 am, but 2:20 is the expected departure now. The last bar closed at midnight and kicked everyone out. I’ve started writing this multiple times, but an old laptop keyboard that is sensitive to my heavy handed typing style keeps erasing paragraphs at key moments. I’m reminded of so many great things that have happened to me traveling. Of course they couldn’t have happened without the not so great things. Getting stuck overnight in Narita airport in Tokyo on the way to China. Finding an internet cafe to write about my experiences and running out of minutes and watching a few thousand words disappear. Waltzing in late for my plane and completely skipping through security…in the days before September 11th. Oversleeping for my flight to Hawaii because I partied too much the night before, and forgetting to pack essentials like board shorts and underwear. Getting paged at the San Francisco Airport while sitting in a bar watching football, just because I was the last passenger not on the plane, but it was still ten minutes from takeoff. Getting deported. Yeah it happened, but you’re not getting that story for free.
I just love travel, the excitement of going to new places, familiar places that you haven’t seen for a while. Watching the other people and figuring out the tourists, the locals, the businessmen, the con artists. It’s all entertainment, and usually the worst incidents make the best stories, you just have to make sure you survive them. So I’ll wait a few hours more if that means we won’t be dodging golf balls of ice at 10,000 feet.
I’ll sit here and try and figure out the free airport wi fi that tells my computer it’s in Osaka, Japan and it’s really 4:30 in the afternoon, while people sleep on the floor in a mostly empty airport and a subsonic alarm goes off but everyone seems to be ignoring it. Am I the only one with dog hearing? Don’t you hear that annoying sound? Make it stop! The things I will endure to be crowded into a big metal can with 100 other people. Are we there yet?
Back to food, because I think about food alot, and there’s a little issue I have with regional variations. This becomes why I need something to give me some reassurance that I will generally think things are okay, such as Swedes in IKEA. Now I don’t want to go all Yelp on everybody and start personally dissing individual restaurants, because Yelpers generally tend to be spiteful and when one wrong thing happens, they give a place a horrible review. That being said, I went to a local place in Williamsburg that specializes in, oh, I don’t know what you call it, maybe, Redneck food? It’s fried – chicken, catfish, french fries. The place is always packed with hipsters, which probably is why I want to hate it, but even more so, it was really expensive considering it was just fried redneck food.
So here I am, I finally got a job, and I’ve been working my ass off. Literally. I’ve hardly had time to eat and I’ve been having food dreams and been waking up delirious in a drool pool craving pounds upon pounds of french fries. Now I’ve hardly eaten fries in the last few months because A: They’re terrible for you, and B: If I’m gonna indulge, they better be really fucking good. I was a fry cook many years ago, and I hand sliced ginormous Idaho potatoes with a press that left them about a half inch square and deep fried them golden brown, then put some Paul Prudhomme Cajun seasoning on them. Now those were good fries. This place I tried Friday night for takeout, their fries were scrawny and soggy. It came with two small pieces of catfish, mediocre cornbread, and coleslaw that came in a little cup usually reserved for ketchup, which by the way, they didn’t give me for my fries, nor did they provide me with utensils. This was all for the low, low price of fifteen dollars. I will not be directly naming the place here, but PAT, I’m not giving you a thumbs down, I’m giving you the finger.
Back to those regional differences, there’s certain things that are just the best in some places. For instance, the New York Bagel. It is Epic! Massive, fluffy, chewy, and delicious. Now I understand why they traditionally don’t toast them, they’re just so good fresh. I’ve loved bagels for years, but I always had to toast them. I’ve been staying up the street from a place where they’re so good, I just buy one for a dollar and eat it while I walk down the street.
On the other hand, California Mexican food is way superior. Yes there are Mexican people in New York. But the Puerto Ricans, Hondurans, Dominicans, and Cubans have disrupted the mix to a point where some places are kind of a general latin type food place. I’ve had some decent tacos around, but I still haven’t found a classic place like the Golden Donut in Torrance. It was a bakery open at 6am that served 75 cent tacos after 11. Awesome.
What’s really been bugging me however is my coffee. Specifically how everyone wants to force me to put milk, or cream in my coffee. They never fill the thing to the top because it’s that “room for cream”. Guess what? I don’t want that cream. That’s why I drink good coffee. I don’t need to mask the taste with something else. That’s like going into a bar and ordering a Hennessy and coke. What’s the point? You’re ordering cognac and covering it up with a kid’s drink. That’s a rookie maneuver. If you order the good stuff, drink it straight. Otherwise, save some money and get brandy, or well whiskey. Don’t ever try and be a big shot and order nice liquor and then put it in with a hundred fruity flavors or some sugary cover up, it’s a waste.
So back to my coffee. My coworker goes on a coffee run and I order an Americano. That’s a shot or two of espresso and hot water. Made fresh, great coffee flavor. He comes back, I take I sip, and I nearly go ballistic. I’ve been working on two hours sleep. I want to enjoy some caffeine. And this tastes like some 3 day old truck stop coffee loaded with milk. We’re in the middle of a meeting so I try and stay cool, but I am going nuts thinking what part of “Americano, NO cream.” did he not understand. Is this some kind of New York thing? Later a guy told me he was selling pre-made coffee to stores, a terrible idea I think. But he says it’s for people on the go. Milk and sugar already included. I asked what about without? He said “You’re in the minority, cuz you’re outta luck, bub.”
Am I people? Am I the lone person on this planet who enjoys black coffee? Or is it an American thing? All that cream and sugar is why we’re becoming so fat. I can’t stand the thought of it. It’s like putting ketchup on your hot dog or mayo on your hamburger. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Two great tastes that don’t go great together. Hell, they aren’t even two great tastes.