Some questions for generic business travel hotels

When you think of a business traveler, what do you think of? Are they all older than 45? Are their ties paisley, but not in an ironic postmodern way? Do they feel okay using their expense accounts to pay stadium prices for subpar beer at the hotel bar? Have you asked them if they like their pillows to be totally flat, and received an affirmative response?

Have you heard your air conditioners? Are you sure they are in good working order? Do you like to test them by setting the room temperature to 60 degrees for each guest?

Why are you asking me to tip housekeeping? Can you just charge me an extra dollar per night and pay them better?

Why are your European counterparts so much cheaper for nicer rooms in comparable cities? Could you maybe poach some of their management team to understand their cost structures and emulate that better? Or do you think your customers just won't appreciate it?

Speaking of Europe, how'd you assemble the menu for your continental breakfast? Do you know that the term comes from the sort of lighter European breakfast English travelers would encounter on the Continent? Did you enjoy using your under-ripe "fresh fruit" for games of jai-alai? Have you ever had a proper croissant, and did you think it lacked a certain je n'ais se quoi that only comes from a few days of staleness? Do you know that your breakfast resembles European breakfast the way I resemble George Clooney?

Who do you hire to design your bathrooms? Why does my room have two sinks, one in the bathroom proper and one four feet adjacent in the outer room? Is this meant to be "luxurious"? When the contractors put the shower in, did anybody notice that most of the water ends up on the floor? Why does your luxury soap leave a residue on my body that even the towel can't quite get off? Does the toilet have to sound like the wrath of God when I flush it, or did you pay extra for that feature?

Do you throw out unused toiletries at the end of a stay? How much cost is associated with that? Would it be cheaper to just go ahead and throw away all the shower caps and not even put them in the room?

When was the last time you shampooed the couch?

Is there a single factory in the middle of the country that manufactures all hotel curtains? Have they seen any fabric samples made after 1987? Why don't your blackout curtains close all the way? Do you know that this defeats the purpose?

Where do you get your room art? Is there a central market, like the Tsukiji Fish Market in Tokyo, where you can purchase calming photographs of architectural features? Do you get to match the frames to the wallpaper, or do you have to change the wallpaper when you buy new art?

Could I please get the late check-out? No?

Why I don't have social media accounts


This blog has a Twitter feed, but that's about it.


I was sitting in my hotel room in Vienna, with a view of the corner where the Kärntner Ring changes name to the Opernring, having finished up some wandering and with about thirty minutes to kill before my next scheduled Thing. I had four days in Vienna, and was midway into my trip. It was election season, and there had been a demonstration that had gobbled up the whole street for the last fifteen minutes.

To pass some time, I was browsing through Facebook, shaking my head at all the poorly expressed opinions, pointless memes, and videos of people's dogs being dogs. I thought to myself "don't these people have better things to do with their time".

Where are we going with this thing?

I started this blog because I enjoy traveling, I get to take a lot of neat trips, and people would ask me about them. But I've also got a lot more to offer, so I'm going to be making some updates to the blog in the coming weeks.

An actual email subscription list where I send out digests of the month, and any new updates, and maybe some special content just for subscribers. Subscribers will also get the occassional proper review of a hotel or flight, instead of my usual ramblings and digressions into 16th century European history.

A few ebooks are in the pipeline talking about things like how to get your travel on easily, how to use points & miles to pay for travel without wasting a lot of money and time chasing false leads, and a very special project that I'll be working up towards for next year.

Of course, all this costs money and while I'd love to keep doing this for free, my special project is potentially quite expensive. So some e-commerce will be coming this way as well. But don't worry, I refuse to fall into the affiliate link trap, and I will never accept advertising money.

So bear with me, and prepare for a few changes in the coming months.

The Unspeakable Decadence of Lufthansa's First Class Cabin

I hurried through the low ceilings and narrow walkways of LaGuardia Airport, a monument to poor design and the sort of spaghetti engineering that quick fixes to the poor design requires, to get to the taxi queue. As with most things at LaGuardia, there are signs everywhere but no clear indication of how far away it is, so you can figure out the "where" pretty well, but the "when" is more nebulous. I was in a hurry, though, and racing past passengers with my new rolley carry-on bag and small leather shoulder bag1. I was in a hurry because I had about four hours to make the transition from LaGuardia to the (much nicer) JFK for my JFK -> FRA flight, flying on Lufthansa's 747-8i, in the nose of the plane, in First Class.


"Champagne wishes and caviar dreams" is the evocative cliché Robin Leach created to talk to the Rest of Us at the conclusion of an episode of "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous". This show, and early ancestor of the modern reality TV/internet media obsession with how people who are nothing like most of us live. The show began airing in the mid-80s, at the height of America's love affair with its own capitalist Id, and ran for nearly a decade. The sentiment really nailed the selling point of the show: "wouldn't it be wonderful if you could live like this?"

This year, I decided that I would not cross an ocean in less than Business Class. This may seem like some seriously bougie shit, but when you're losing a week at a time to jet lag when you cross an ocean, and you do it four or five or six times a year, this becomes a matter of spending a few extra hundred (or a thousand...) dollars to buy back a week of your precious time.

When it was time to book the flights for a recent trip to Europe for a mixture of work and vacation, making it the first time I've enacted this rule on myself, I noticed a what I assume was an error fare that put me in Lufthansa's First Class cabin for around a hundred dollars more than Business Class for the trans-Atlantic leg of my trip, and did not hesitate. What follows is a description of "champagne wishes and caviar dreams" come literally, decadently true at 11,000 meters.


Being that I booked my flight through United, I had to arrive in New York LaGuardia Airport and transfer by taxi to JFK, since United (foolishly) gave up landing rights at JFK in favor of saving a few bucks and most of the international flights out of New York operate out of JFK. Traffic in all parts of New York is a reminder that all our advanced technology and engineering and evolution as a civilization has led to spending a long time waiting to get between two points while amusing ourselves2. I spent mine having my coworkers question my logic in booking a First Class ticket with my own money over chat on my phone as my cab driver navigated the western side of Long Island at 20 mph.

Sitting in a New York taxi stuck in traffic and in a hurry creates a funny-weird emotional state. There is literally nothing you can do to make the taxi go faster -- the driver is doing his thing, a wall of cars sit in front of you, apathetic to your plight, and there's really only one route to take. But, in the way the brain does when under mild stress, we get fidgety and want to do something.

So I spent most of the taxi ride on my phone, in a group chat with my co-workers, where they asked me snarky questions like "Did you choose to change airports just for a bigger chair?" or "Did you pay that much more just for nice pajamas?"3. I had, and was suffering some headaches because of an LGA ground stop due to fog tightening up my connection from five hours to four, with traffic cutting it down to three. Which is fine and I'm not going to miss my flight, but I really wanted to check out the Lufthansa First Class Lounge at JFK Terminal 1.


Luxurious air travel has accelerated in the last ten years, particularly with the Gulf State carriers entering the market. For the US domestic market, long haul flights used to be three-cabin affairs, with First, Business, and Coach4. Business got better faster than First, and the airlines started consolidating the two into fancy-sounding names like "BusinessFirst", naming things very literally in the way a small child does.

Meanwhile, the foreign carriers were going in the opposite direction. In the same way that every modern luxury feature on a car seems to have first appeared on a Mercedes S-class first, so did Singapore tend to lead the way with air travel luxury. At this point, the toppest of the top end foreign carriers -- typically Japan, Singapore, and the Middle East -- have first class cabins with fully enclosed suites where you can sit in total privacy, only to be bothered when your post-lunch cappuccino is ready.

SkyTrax, which gives out star ratings for airlines based on the many aspects of air travel from on-time arrivals to the quality of service in premium cabins, has never rated a US legacy carrier about 3-stars, a C grade. This year, there are 9 five-star airlines, and all of them are either East Asian or Middle Eastern carriers. A perennial contender, though, is Lufthansa, whose First Class and Economy cabins garner five star reviews, but is weighed down by having a merely above-average Business Class product.

The logic of why foreign carriers are head and shoulders above the US legacy airlines in the quality of premium cabins was made apparent when I was talking to a friend of mine who lives in the UK, and she said "For us, every flight is an international flight".

It's three hours on a flight, give or take, from Denver to New York. It's three hours by train from Paris to Geneva, and about half the as-the-crow-flies distance. But the train has almost no overhead to go with it; you just show up at the train station, drink a watery mass-manufactured German lager, and board the train. No security lines. No crowded concourses. No trying to quickly get three hundred people through one door and to their seats. In the end, the flight from Denver to New York can eat up five or six hours between entering one airport and leaving the other. So, in this sense, trains are much, much more time efficient than a comparable flight (never mind dealing with CDG...).

The role of the US legacy carriers, and their main business model, is to economically move as many people as possible across the vast distances that separate the major cities in the US. This is a sort of mass consumer grade consumption. The role of the foreign carriers, given that domestic trains are as fast and more convenient than domestic air travel, is to fly long-haul (say, 6+ hours at a stretch). So the big ones we see in the US have the big Business class cabins and the luxurious First Class cabins because they are catering to a more monied, more travel-savvy clientele. And that clientele is going to demand creature comforts that just don't get noticed on a three hour flight5.


Lufthansa operates out of Terminal 1 at JFK, which is the smallest terminal at the airport. This is relevant because Terminal 1 does not have a TSA PreCheck lane, and you have to have a physical, printed ticket to take advantage of your PreCheck status, which amounts to not having to take your shoes off. This is next to worthless, and a potential problem for someone who's used to taking ten minutes to get through security (such as, say, me).

To my right in security was an older couple who were demanding, after I walked right up to the front, to know why they didn't have PreCheck listed on their Alitalia ticket. The security guy told them, at least twice, that they have to make sure to register that with each airline. Eventually the guard gave a characteristic New York eye roll and stopped answering their question with the same answer, and they continued mumbling about this all the way through the security line. Let this serve as your reminder that you have to register your Known Traveler number with every airline you book with.

That interaction highlights something that I keep coming back to, which is that air travel is one of the few times when people who do something professionally (vis-à-vis navigating an airport and getting on and off an airplane as quickly as possible) surrounded almost entirely by confused novices. Nobody lets a rec league softball pitcher throw in a Major League game, nobody has a first year law student present their arguments in front of a federal Circuit court, nobody has someone with their learners permit drive a taxi. Efficient travelers have ready access to almost everything, at the top of their bags, wearing shows that are easy to slip on and off, and all that stuff to participate in the post-modern off-Broadway theater performance that is airport security. Novices do none of these things. There are no studies I know off, but I suspect it takes a first-time traveler twenty times longer to navigate an airport than a pro.

The upshot of all this is that it took about forty minutes to get through security, when under normal conditions it should have taken ten. But waiting just on the other side, so close I didn't even bother putting my shoes back on, was the Lufthansa Senator's Lounge in JFK Terminal 1.


I don't cotton to crowds. I find them distracting and tiring and stressful, probably more than most other people. I also travel a lot, mostly for work. These dueling demands have taught me a new appreciation for the value of the airport lounge.

For the uninitiated, an airport lounge is a space above, besides, or otherwise separate from the terminal proper, run by typically an airline but could also be an independent company, which has some conditions for entry, usually related to some sort of airline loyalty status. The lounges operated by the US carriers tend to offer well drinks and mediocre wine and beer for free, with a food selection that ranges from "solid" to "depressing", depending on the airport, the company, and the traffic through the lounge.

The Asian and European carriers, on the other hand, tend to treat the lounges as actual loss leaders, and make them well worth your time. The food tends to be restaurant calibre, the alcohol selection tends to be good, and it's all free. The environment is quiet, and the seating is arranged so you don't have to spend any time looking blankly at strangers if you don't want to.

On a recent trip, I used my Priority Pass membership to spend half an hour in the Swiss Airlines Business Class lounge at the Geneva airport. I had a cappuccino and a croissant, sent a few quick emails, and had a half hour of mostly silence. When I walked back to the main terminal for my flight, it was all crying babies and people's conversations mixing into an incomprehensible multi-lingual din.

If you go through this whole airport-airplane-airport process once or twice a year, this may all seem excessive. But if you want to understand how this affects someone who travels with some frequency, imagine trying to work remotely from a busy mall food court for four hours every week. That particular combination of loudness, children, uncomfortable chairs, sometimes peculiar smells, and people coming and going across your field of vision is a close facsimile to an airport terminal. After a year of trying to operate under these conditions regularly, you will begin to appreciate the value of an airport lounge.


The First Class Lufthansa lounge at JFK is not a dedicated lounge, but a second floor balcony overlooking the Business Class lounge. The space itself is not large, but it is probably mostly empty most of the time. While I was up there, two Lufthansa staff took care of about a dozen people over two hours for the one Lufthansa flight of the day.

I got to talking to some of them, because I was the only one traveling alone and they weren't too busy, and I was reminded that some people shouldn't be allowed in public. Apparently, the worst guests are the ones who arrive with someone else who has the lounge access (you can bring up to two guests iirc). These are the people who act like entitled little shits, get excessively drunk-and-loud, and then get upset when they get kicked out of the lounge when their host leaves for his (probably, typically, the correct pronoun) flight that they are not even on. Then there was the comment that will stick with me a while, which was when one of the staffers responded to my "You must see some crazy stuff" with "We have a shower..."


To avoid belaboring the point, allow me to enumerate the foods and beverages I consumed over the course of my First Class experience:

1x glass of a nice Côtes du Rhône

2x fingers of a 23 year rum

2x fingers of a 25 year single malt scotch

3x glasses of champagne

2x glasses of riesling

1x glass chilled vodka

1x glass port

1x cappuccino

1x glass orange juice

1x plate of dry aged beef with mashed potatoes

1x plate of grilled vegetables

2x plates of caviar

1x monkfish dish

1x cheese plate

2x dishes warm nuts

1x bowl muesli w/ yoghurt

in ten hours of real human time. The cash value of all this, assuming restaurant prices, is probably around $400.

What's important, and what's lost in getting obsessed with cash value and some sort of value/dollar metric that a lot of travel hacking nuts love, is that this luxury is fun, and the level of service is absolutely top notch, and for a relatively brief flight5 it is quite comfortable and the time flies by, what with the meal service taking the better part of two hours.

And the meal service is top notch stuff. White linens, utensils that are room temperature instead of frozen6, the wine keeps flowing in a way that is impossible in an actual restaurant what with the cost, and the flight attendants are friendly and professional and when you think about how much training an experience goes into being a waiter at a really top notch restaurant, and then add in all the things about doing that while being a safety officer on a metal tube at 35,000 feet, and you start to realize that these people are Serious Professionals in a way most people who work in business aren't. They are the Ginger Rogers to a standard flight attendant or standard waiter's Fred Astaire, doing everything they do only backwards and in heels.


There are plenty of photographs of the First Class cabin of Lufthansa available, and if you're curious what it looks like, you should just throw it into Google. The wide seats and endless legroom. The large high-def screens. The red rose sitting alone under its own light. The large bathrooms (two) with the window (unfortunately nowhere near eye level, but still) and the rose.

As anyone who's tried to pull it off can tell you, minimalist design is very hard. We as a species have an impulse to add, and it takes discipline to stop yourself from putting one more feature, one more flare of color. But in a small space, like a small apartment or an airplane cabin, minimalism is key; a maximalist approach can make a small space feel smaller. The best minimalist designs make calm, relaxing spaces where you can choose to focus, or not.

Lufthansa pulls off the minimalist aesthetic. There's maybe three colors and some wood paneling along the windows, with a very soft color palette excepting in dark seat. All the surfaces cleanly mesh with each other, and the space feels much larger for it. Compare this with, say, Emirates, with its lights and gold and mirrors and bling.


The flight home was in Lufthansa's business class, which is by no means an industry leader but is a far sight better than being at the back (or, since I was on an A380, the bottom) of the plane. Walking into the cabin and into my seat at the front row, all I could think was "Did I just walk into a cow pen?" First Class totally fucks with your expectations. The level of personal attention (my flight had two flight attendants, who were clearly very experienced at this, for six people in the cabin), the white glove level of service, and the way you've bought an all-you-can-consume buffet of luxury with your ticket distorts reality, turning business class into an uncomfortable and coach into a Central American chicken bus.

But so when I was flying back, in the cow pen, after lunch service, the flight attendant, who addressed me by name, asked if I would like anything to drink. I asked if I could have a cappuccino, and he told me that cappuccinos were reserved for First Class, but that if nobody was using the machine he would get me one. He did. At the price of maybe $2, Lufthansa got themselves a loyal customer.

And this is the thing with First Class. It seems over the top and decadent and at times absurd, and it really is. But when people list the best business class, and the best coach cabins for international flights, they almost always correlate with the best First. Service like that is a culture, not some specialized instructions. That thing often attributed to Aristotle but actually written by Will Durant in The Story of Philosophy, that "We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence is not an act, but a habit."


  1. Some time in my early twenties, I either dislocated my elbow and had it pop back in, or otherwise hurt it pretty badly. The style of rolling luggage available to my graduate student budget had handles that were too short, and being taller than average I would end up kicking the suitcase, causing the handle to twist violently in my hand with a lot of weight behind it. This hurt my elbow. A lot. So as normal wear required, I replaced my rolling suitcases with so-called "weekenders", sometimes going a week or more out of these bags. The added benefit was that, unlike a wheeled thing on an uneven surface, if I had to run, I could really sprint.

  2. Many writers have written many words about how our post-modern Information Age culture is built around entertainment. Few of them seem to focus on how much of this is just a long distraction between moments where we actually have to engage with the outside world -- the upshot of mass transit and air travel and long taxi rides is that when we are faced with an eight hour flight we are desperate for at least five hours of pure, unadulterated distraction after we get on the plane but before we must re-engage with customs in a new country. Other symptoms of this are binge watching entire television series & the associated Golden Age of Television, the analog equivalent airport thriller, in-flight entertainment and now in-flight WiFi, &c. I've started trying to spend at least half an hour spread out over a flight focusing very intently on my thumb nail. Ever try to focus on your thumb nail until you can feel the blood pumping in it? It actually becomes emotionally uncomfortable. Buddhist monks spend hours at a time engaged in exercises like this, and I think they may be on to something, especially as a way to rebel against our infinite-stimulation Amusing Ourselves to Death world.

  3. I did, sorta, and the pajamas I bought with the ticket have replaced my old pajamas, and they are much more comfortable than any sleepwear I've ever owned before.

  4. I refuse to indulge the simpering marketing tactic of describing cramming a human being into a rectangle that is less than four square feet of footprint as "Economy". It is, and always will be, coach.

  5. This is not excusing how miserable domestic air travel has become in the last few years. Miles are difficult to come by, upgrades for customers with loyalty program status have become more rare, seats have gotten small, and you get hit with fees for everything. Even this is ignoring the recent (as of May 2017) trend of using law enforcement to deal with customer service issues, and the simultaneous bragging about record profits and walking around with a hand out begging for help against the big mean Gulf Carriers who are heavily subsidized by their sponsor countries, sorta like the Big Three remaining US legacy carriers. In short, someone in the Justice Department needed to be a little stricter in their interpretation of the Sherman Act when all these mergers were happening in the late-90s and early-00s.

  6. It is 7.5 hours from JFK to Frankfurt, assuming good weather and all that. On the scale of international flights, this is a short one. Denver to Frankfurt is 9.5 hours, trips from just about anywhere in the US that isn't a gateway airport (Atlanta, New York, Chicago, Boston, DC) will involve a layover at a gateway, and then anything over the Pacific will be at least 11 hours. SQ21 and the return SQ22, direct flights from Newark to Singapore, were the longest flights in the world by both distance (8,285 nautical miles EWR->SIN, and 9,000 nautical miles back, which itself illustrates how long the flight is, that a combination of the earth's rotation and the way great circle distance works adds a good 10% to the flight distance going against the rotation of the earth versus with) and time (about 18 hours), until it was discontinued in 2013, probably because it couldn't have been a profitable route for Singapore Airlines. Singapore will start these flights again when they take delivery of the new, more efficient Airbus A350-900ULR in 2018. Until then, the longest flight in the world belongs to Qatar Airways, which flies from Auckland to Doha in about 17.5 hours.

  7. I've noticed this a lot, that on most flights where I end up with metal cutlery, that said metal cutlery is actually quite cold. Like it had been stored in a freezer for the first hour or so of the flight. I do not understand this, and since one of the miracles of air travel is that airlines can provide a hot meal at all, it seems doubly odd that they'd undermine the hot meal by having utensils that totally throw the temperature off. It's a relatively minor quibble about airline comfort, but it's just so damned odd.

Finding the Island of California

I like old maps. There's a store near where I live that sells old maps and vintage posters. The maps themselves are fascinating. A friend came across a map from 1938 which had Manchukuo and referred to Korea as a Japanese colony. The store has a collection of maps from textbooks from what I assume to be 1940 with Native Americans and African-Americans and caucasians depicted in racial caricatures so far removed from what people actually look like that one wonders if it can even be considered "racist" in the usual sense.

But my favorite map is a Spanish map from the late 1600s that depicts California as an island. The Spanish persisted in insisting that California was an island into the 1700s. One can understand where this misconception would arise: the Gulf of California runs over a thousand miles deep. A novel from the late 1400s-early 1500s 1 novel, "Las sergas de Esplandián", described an island inhabited only by black women and ruled by Queen Calafia.

Naturally, when, in 1533, a Spanish mutineer by the name of Fortún Ximénez arrived at the southern tip of the Baja California peninsula 2 , it would be assumed that this was the Island of California of myth. This was reported to the governor of Mexico, and made its way into the maps. My knowledge of Spanish exploration of the region is pretty limited, but given the scale of the Sonora and Baja deserts, and the length of the peninsula, it is entirely possible that no Spaniard ever sailed up the gulf and made landfall on its northern shore. If this seems absurd, consider the persistent (possibly untrue) story that the French had no idea how much land they were selling to the United States in the Louisiana Purchase. Cartography was not terribly advanced by this time anyway; take a gander at the French map below from right around the American Revolution, and pay particular attention to the shape and size of Florida.


I happen to live in a state which was among the first to legalize recreational marijuana in the United States. On day one of legalization, there were already van tours that would pick you up on a long layover at the airport, drive you to dispensaries, where you could then imbibe in the back of the van (the rules are quite a bit like alcohol, and iirc in the same way that you can drink in the back of a limo, you can smoke up as well) and then be dropped off at the airport in time to make your connecting flight. These tours were booked solid four months in advance. The legalization has turned recreational marijuana into a multi-billion-dollar industry.

There was also the side effect of people chasing stories of streets paved with weed. A lot of (younger, white) people moved to Colorado to pursue their particular choice of vice free of police involvement, but failed to account for things like "a high cost of living". Many of these people arrived without a job or money and ended up homeless.

A year earlier, Boulder had tried to relax its laws against "erecting temporary housing" (living in a tent in a city park) trying to help out the homeless population. This influx and the inevitable ugliness that followed led to a crackdown, ruining what should have been a very helpful thing for the people who are actually homeless and not merely people chasing a myth without thought of implications.

Colorado did not encourage this myth; we just tried to save some money, and ended up raising quite a bit in excise tax, and the law of unintended consequences created a burden for the homeless in a city that prides itself on its efforts to help said homeless.

Some places encourage the myth. Perhaps none so aggressively as New York, New York.

I have complained about this before, and I will complain about it again, but there are entire blocks of Manhattan that are completely unnavigable due to to sea of tourists taking photos of famous places. I cannot name another place that is name dropped more in popular song 3 . And New York insists on its myth: the City that Never Sleeps, the Big Apple, Gotham, Empire City, the list goes on. People seek out the Myth of Manhattan in scales beyond human comprehension. An estimated 60 million people visited New York in 2016 alone. That's more than the population of the entire Iberian peninsula.

What did they come for? The Statue of Liberty, itself a collection of myths including that it was a gift from France (it was, partially, but was mostly paid for by quite affluent Americans paying for a very nice statue) and the poem inscribed on the base:

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

MOTHER OF EXILES. From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she

With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

on a statue welcoming immigrants to a country with a history of not really welcoming immigrants4. Broadway, once derided for its shallow entertainment, is now the Mecca of musical theater, with tickets so expensive that only tourists would pay for the shows. Time Square, where no native New Yorker would visit 5 , only pass through when no other choice is presented. Radio City Music Hall, the United Nations headquarters, Central Park, and many, many, many museums. One of my friends had his family visit, and his father insisted on finding a pastrami on rye -- that was New York to his father, a (usually pretty good) diner sandwich.

I lived new New York for five years. My dominant memories are Hell's Kitchen restaurants, Alphabet City bars, and the museums around Central Park. Many native New Yorkers consider leaving their neighborhood a distant trek to a far-away land. The fascinating thing about a World City 6 is that it can be literally anything anybody wants it to be. There's a scale to the city that allows it to accomodate the desires of all but the most demanding of city-dwellers. The myths of what New York "is" are such a small and curated subset of what New York actually is. But the myths also end to be the ones that most people will come up with when pressed for a description of a place.


What can makes these myths so interesting is how static they seem to be. Spanish maps depicted California as an island long after explorers had throughly wandered the American Southwest. Boulder, CO still has a reputation as a hippy stronghold after three waves of California software developers moved in and priced the hippies out of the market. New York is so, so much more than a bunch of famous landmarks connected by a double decker bus tour. And it's an interesting problem, because these myths drive tourism, and in the 21 st century this means there is quite a market for these myths.

In 1977, New York (the city) was a disaster. This was the year of Son of Sam. The least bloody month, February, saw 82 murders, and the murder rate was pushing 20 murders per hundred thousand residents. Today it's under 4. The New York State Department of Commerce recruited Milton Glaser for a little ad campaign, and, expecting it to run only a few months, Glaser agreed to do the work for free. In 2009, Barack Obama awarded Milton Glaser the National Medal of the Arts -- the first graphic designer to receive the honor -- for developing the "I Heart New York" logo and campaign. The State of New York owns the trademark on the logo, and by some reports the state earns around $2M/year in licensing fees. Most of the paraphernalia peddled to tourists is unlicensed and worn proudly by almost no residents of the city itself.

But this is New York for many people. The t-shirts and the miniature Statue of Liberty figurines and the little snow globes of landmarks that millions of people went to see in one year. (Very) Conservative estimate, a person might spend $1000 on a week in New York between hotels, so we are talking about a multi-billion-dollar industry for a single city. This is an astronomical amount of money, which creates a whole industry with a deep interest in preserving the images and stories and ideas -- in short, the myths -- that drive people to visit the Big Apple7.

What's peculiar about this, to me, is that so many of these places are more interesting than any of the "iconic" things about them.

Here's an example.

The go-to thing to do in the southern Baja California peninsula is to do body shots of tequila in Cabo. Many, many millions of people visit Cabo every year for white sand beaches in an expensive resort secluded from the rest of Mexico. This is the (well-earned) reputation of Cabo: a party central for people who want to leave their home country for a party without ever dealing with the actual hassles of leaving their home country8.

Also available in the southern Baja area is Espíritu Santo, a UNESCO world heritage site with one of the most beautiful beaches in the world, where you can snorkel with sea lions and whale sharks and eat some really solid food and all you have to do is take a bus from the Cabo airport about an hour north of the Tropic of Cancer and hey-presto you're in a town most tourists have never heard of, with quirky small hotels and a few top notch restaurants if you ask around a bit. When I was there I was almost talked into buying a microbrewery that had the lightest, most enjoyable-in-30-Celsius stout I've ever had.


Taken by me, with the thumb left in for effect. I could say "Creative Commons" but who wants a photo of people taking photos of a statue, with a thumb in the middle?

Taken by me, with the thumb left in for effect. I could say "Creative Commons" but who wants a photo of people taking photos of a statue, with a thumb in the middle?

Across from Nyhavn and the Skuespillhuset in Copenhagen, next to the Viking hippy village of Christiania, Copenhagen Street Food has taken over an old shipping warehouse. Copenhagen Street Food is chock full of food and drink stalls, and one of them serves the best fried chicken I've ever had. About a mile away, after a walk across the modern, colorful pedestrian/bicycle Inderhavnsbroen bridge and past the Kastellet (the old fortress that overlooks the mouth of Copenhagen's old harbor), Amalienborg Castle, and the Danish Museum of Design, two hundred tourists crowd around a small statue of the Little Mermaid.


  1. It is a remarkable bit of archaeology to figure out when old books were published. In this particular example, the book in question is a part of a series, and the oldest known printed edition dates to 1510, but a later installment in the series has a published edition dated four months earlier. Hell, we've narrowed Hamlet to a three-year publication window, and it's Hamleta.

  2. And was killed in a fight with the locals, natch.

  3. It has its own Wikipedia article, and said article is a list as long as this essay. Everyone from Frank Sinatra to Steely Dan have name dropped a place in New York. The Wikipedia article itself catalogs 123 songs, 124 if you include Duke Ellington's "Harlemania", whose titles just begin with "Harlem". This does not even exhaust the list of songs with Harlem in the title somewhere.

  4. Consider, for example, Benjamin Franklin ranting about the German immigrants in colonial Pennsylvania: "Those who come hither are generally of the most ignorant Stupid Sort of their own Nation...and as few of the English understand the German Language, and so cannot address them either from the Press or Pulpit, ’tis almost impossible to remove any prejudices they once entertain...Not being used to Liberty, they know not how to make a modest use of it...I remember when they modestly declined intermeddling in our Elections, but now they come in droves, and carry all before them, except in one or two Counties...In short unless the stream of their importation could be turned from this to other colonies, as you very judiciously propose, they will soon so out number us, that all the advantages we have will not in My Opinion be able to preserve our language, and even our Government will become precarious." Of course, being the first true American, Franklin also started the first German language newspaper in the British colonies. It failed.

  5. And also containing the subject of perhaps the most-read New York Times restaurant review in history.

  6. I define a capital-'W'-capital-'C' "World City" as being a place where you can buy literally any good or service at a store that is open at 2 AM. This ranges from groceries to tailored suits to a car. An incomplete list, biased towards places I have visited, includes: New York, Chicago, San Francisco, Tokyo, London. If you live in a city and are wondering if it constitutes a "World City", ask yourself if you've ever complained that all the restaurants are closed. If the answer is yes, then you do not live in a "World City".

  7. Which, remarkably, has not been trademarked.

  8. I talk like leaving the country (here country = United States) is a relatively straightforward process. And in a lot of ways, it is. Anyone holding a United States passport can travel to 174 countries without a visa or by buying an inexpensive visa stamp on arrival -- this is third in the world. Air travel abroad is also relatively inexpensive. Flights to Mexico from most of the major gateway cities in the US (NY, Chicago, SF, Denver, Atlanta, Houston, LA, Seatle, ...) can be as low as $350 round trip, possibly less. But there is a lot of headache involved in international travel as well, especially if you aren't used to the sort of rolling-with-the-punches inhabiting a culture that is not your own requires. A couple of examples: tipping customs can vary within a region, so just because you learned the rules in Spain does not mean you're covered for Portugal; German hotels have very thin pillows and expect that everyone is a back-sleeper; outside of Tokyo the English prevalence in Japan is a bit limited, which can make you dependent on a translation app on your phone; English airports have slot machines in them; &c. ad infinatum ad nauseam. The point is, yeah, if you've never ever ever left your home country before, you should probably open up by going to a major world city in a country whose customs are similar but not identical to your own (think Canada or the UK) if you are going for anything remotely resembling the (non-existent) "local experience".

  9. Side note that I include only because it's interesting to think about: There's still debate as to the age of the protagonist of perhaps the most famous piece of literature in the Western canon. Most contemporary depictions are of the Kenneth Branagh mold, who was 35 or 36 when he depicted the Prince of Denmark. However, there are textual differences between the folios, and politically it makes no sense that a 36 year old would have to defer to his uncle to ascend to the throne. As such, there are some that argue that Hamlet was 17 or 18, a boy on the cusp of manhood. These are two wildly different interpretations of the character, that fundamentally changes the interpretations and themes of the play.

A (Possibly) Shameful Confession Re: NYC

Our brains seem wired to get a rush out of novelty. Whether it's entering a new relationship or buying a new gadget or visiting a new place, there's something about that feeling of initial trepidation followed by the stimulation of new experiences that leaves this glow around the New Thing. But, as time passes, that glow fades and we're left with all the little warts and smells and quirks of the actual realities of the thing.

I was reminded of this on a recent overnight stay in Manhattan.

We don't usually create this association with vacation-type trips, since we tend to choose exciting places and go once. I lived on Long Island for a few years, so I was already passing familiar with Manhattan on once-a-month visit terms. But this trip has forced me to reconcile myself with the fact that I just don't much care for visiting New York anymore.

As a first time visitor, it's easy to miss the warning signs. There are so many bright lights and museums and restaurants and famous locations that you're overwhelmed, put on the blinders, and stick to some preconceived super-efficient point-to-point itinerary. But if you freestyle your itinerary a little bit, and linger in the less-toured areas, you start to see some of the problems with New York vis-à-vis a nice place to be.

The most obvious problem is simply the muchness of it all. It's an enormous city with many, many people and things to do. The many things to do can become overwhelming, and, like a restaurant with a thirty page menu, you end up unable to make any decision at all. This is a relatively benign problem until you end up circling for half an hour unable to pick a place to eat. No big city is immune to this problem, but New York's density and size exacerbates the problem (is the Starbucks on this block or the one on the next block better [the answer is that the coffee is identical, but one of them smells like pee]).

Then comes the more distinctively New York aspects. This is a loud city, and the natural sound track is cars honking at nobody in particular. I have, on occassion, paid quite a bit to go into a museum and get off the street just so I can sit somewhere sorta quiet. The only real way to navigate the city is walking and subways, what with its atrocious street traffic.

But the walking spaces are a mess. The sidewalks are covered in both literal and figurative shit -- on my last visit I saw a woman let her dog take a giant dump next to a car on the sidewalk then just leave it there. I've become proficient, over many visits to Manhattan over the years, of getting excrement off my shoe using the various standing water puddles at the cross streets and the uneven concrete that makes up the sidewalks. Whole blocks of the city will smell like garbage or urine without warning or discernible origin. Older buildings are surrounded by the characteristic scaffolding that makes open sidewalks like a postmodern dungeon.

The mass transit is not much better. The subway cars range from reasonably comfortable to outdated with much screeching and rattling and no air conditioning (and those tunnels get warm in the summer months). If you see an empty car during rush hour, it is not because you are a perceptive genius, and it likely has more to do with some appalling thing or another -- the possibilities are legion.

And everywhere, everyone pays a premium for Being In New York.

New York's boosters would argue that these are problems facing all large cities. But not necessarily. I didn't find Paris to be particularly expensive, certainly not Manhattan expensive. Chicago doesn't have the atrocious scaffolding enveloping its buildings. The sidewalks in Tokyo are devoid of dust, let alone gum, waste, and garbage. The subway system in Munich has air conditioning and comfortable, quiet modern cars, and the inter-city trains in Europe give no impression of speed -- no noise, no rattling, no banging about -- despite sometimes touching 200 mph.

This seems like I hate New York. I don't. I frequently take long layovers in Manhattan on my way to Europe because New York is one of the rare places where you can do Literally Anything. On a recent trip I visited the Rubin Museum of Art near 17th and 7th and learned an awful lot about Himalayan art and the regional variations of religious symbolism on the Tibetan plateau for about $15. I still haven't visited the Whitney yet (and it is a sign of the fame of New York's museums that they get the article 'The' combined with a short name: The Whitney, The Met, The MoMA, The Guggenheim, The Frick, and these are just the super famous ones, with dozens of other very good museums well worth visiting), despite wandering up and down the High Line after it first opened. There is just so much to do there. If I start writing Idyll Travel Guides (and I'm thinking about it), NYC would be the first place to get the treatment.

It's classic it's-not-you-it's-me. I've been there so many times, lived nearby, visited after I moved, that the novelty of being completely overwhelmed for choices in museums, bars, high end dining, low end dining, haute couture, Juicy Couture, flash mobs, Persian Pride Parades, &c. has worn off and I'm left seeing nothing but the hairy wart in the middle of New York's forehead. If you've never gone, you should go, and stay away from Time Square, and see for yourself how much is there. For me, I may need a year or so. After New Year's Eve this year, which I've never done in Manhattan. And probably a layover on another trip to Europe.

A Detailed Review of the Nonexistent Hôtel Danceaux


Wherein I describe couch surfing at my friend's home for a week as if I had stayed at a hotel.


I arrived at Hôtel Danceaux late, around 9 PM. Checkin was acceptably fast, and I was in my hotel room minutes after arrival. The bed was thin but comfortable, and the sheets, though clearly older, were clean and comfortable. The room was decorated to resemble a French country home, and while it was nice to share the room with a rack full of vintage Belgian beer bottles (a novel take on the mini-bar, albeit entirely too expensive for anyone to take advantage of), the room had a tile floor that was cold at night.

One peculiarity of this hotel is that room service staff will try to let themselves into your room. One, dressed all in black, knocked repeatedly on the door, requesting to get in. When I finally opened the door, he immediately went under the bed to check for who-knows-what. I suspect there was catnip. This was persistent with two staff members in particular, and although they were quite friendly they nevertheless seemed interested mostly in looking into my suitcase and hiding under the bed. This may have to do with their being cats.

The shower was down the hall, and the shower head was a little low for my standards (6'2"), but the water was always hot and nobody ever bothered me in the bathroom. The hotel was mostly empty, so I did not have to share the bathroom with other guests.

The hotel managers were very friendly, and offered me complimentary drinks. This was fine, but encouraged me to a bit of excess at times. Being a little intoxicated when I went to bed at Hôtel Danceaux would be fine normally, but unfortunately my hotel room faced sort of east and caught the morning sun full force -- it was impossible to sleep past 8 AM any night during my stay.

In terms of location, Hôtel Danceaux is solid, situated just far enough away from downtown that traffic is not an issue, but a short drive to a variety of restaurants, bars, and entertainment. This alone would make Hôtel Danceaux an ideal launching off point for a tourist.

Overall, the experience was enjoyable, the hotel provided good value, the staff was friendly (albeit some perhaps a little strange), and I was able to get a good night's sleep.

4/5 Stars.

The Troubles With Travel Porn

Arrive before the big lines of tourists, around 9:30 or 10:00 AM, you'll have enough time to linger by one of the enormous bronze doors at La Sagrada Família. The doors are covered with bronze ivy, and in that bronze ivy are bronze beetles and other bronze insects, and if you look very closely you will see that each of the leaves and each of the bugs are unique. Some extremely skilled person, a member of a dying profession, spent months or years casting these little details that you can only see if you stop for a minute and look at a door.

Antoni Gaudí had this level of detail in mind when he started designing La Sagrada Família in 1883, the building remains under construction to this day, and the current estimates (pending funding, and you can donate to the construction here) for completion being somewhere in the mid-2020s. You can read all about its construction, the difficulties of the Spanish Civil War and the Franco regime, Gaudí's connection with the Modernisme movement in the arts that centered around Barcelona, while still being quite apart from the movement itself. But you cannot actually experience the movement itself without walking the streets of Barcelona, turning a corner, and finding yourself looking at the Casa Batlló (which is an apartment building with an architectural rendition of the story of St. George and the Dragon on the roof).


There is a genre of journalism that I will refer to as "travel porn". If you own a television, you have probably seen examples of it. In a travel porn video, a host or hosts will show up at an exotic location under some overarching pretense for the series (frequently food, but sometimes in search of housing or just seeing something pretty) and begin talking to a local while walking around the city with a camera crew in tow. The host will visit some famous locations, or make a point of avoiding the touristy parts of the city, and talk about them in passing, and within 22-45 minutes of show time give you the Cliff's Notes of a trip to Trieste or Tokyo or Phuket.

In a typical episode, the hosts and editors and camera crews and random locals they "meet" along the way (I am still unclear about this. How do they find these people? Are they aware of the show's format before they volunteer? Are they compensated for showing off their city? Do rando tourists try to track them down like just another sight on the checklist of "things to do in this place" the show cannot help but create?) will give a good flavor for the city itself. In most, though, you're left with the impression of visiting some far-off land without ever leaving your couch. On a marathon binge-watching, you could be left with the impression of visiting the far corners of the world in an afternoon.

And what is wrong with a little bit of travel porn every now and again? To be fair to the genre, it did inspire me to visit Vietnam, which was a phenomenal place and one of the countries I would drop everything to visit again given the opportunity. Plenty of other people have similar stories. But travel porn has the same problem as human porn -- it gives a false impression of reality, and creates the illusion of experience without all the nitty gritty details that give real reality its texture.


There is a street in Barcelona called La Rambla. It runs from roughly the Plaça de Catalunya to the Mirador de Colón and the sea. La Rambla was originally a drainage ditch, but by the mid-13th century it was a city on the edge of the old medieval walled in part of the city. In the 18th century the city started planting trees along the road, and it eventually became a huge open-air market.

The whole thing is now shops and stores and restaurants, and little of it is actually Catalan (I did not go into the McDonald's or the adjoining KFC, but I feel confident in saying that their menus were not adapted too much to honor Catalan regional cuisine). This street is inhabited almost exclusively by tourists, and people looking to part the tourists from their money. This includes pickpockets (my Barcelona friend who was showing me around was quite adamant we be careful here) as well as people selling Real Madrid jerseys (???) and sombreros (!!!) to from what were mostly British or American tourists.

La Rambla cuts through the middle of Barcelona's Old City; the side streets are a maze designed to confuse invaders; somewhere in this tangle is what is believed to be one of the oldest synagogues in Europe (according to the tour guide, Barcelona had a very good relationship with its Jewish community during the Middle Ages, right up until the marriage {with a Papal dispensation for consanguinity, I learned researching this} of Ferdinand of Aragon and Isabella of Castile and the expulsion of all non-Christians and the Spanish Inquisition). Spitting distance from all this history is a vendor selling a specifically Mexican hat to Anglophone tourists in a part of Spain that didn't want to be Spanish.

You will never see these sombreros in travel porn, because it would force the host to pause and address the stupidity of it all. I find this troubling because tourists and tourism can redefine a location's identity. Some places are fighting back (Barcelona's new mayor, Ada Colau, campaigned against tourists and won, and when I was there you would see signs that basically demanded the tourists please go away so Barceloní can enjoy locations like Park Güell without it being completely overrun), and I hope more follow, because this is the ugly side of tourism and it's something travel porn never shows you.

Travel porn cuts out the ugly bits of a location to give the impression of a relaxing vacation, or at least if the problems are addressed they are done in passing right before a commercial break, for the sake of indulging the viewer's fantasy. It's easy to fantasize about a vacation to a city when you don't see what tourism does to it, and it's easy to convince yourself you've seen a place after watching a show with a charming host showing you what looks like local life. But you need to see this stuff, the labyrinth of roads and a medieval church with a book fare and some mob of idiots wearing sombreros with "BARCELONA" stitched in the brim, really see it in person, to get a feel for a city, tourism's (the inevitable result of travel, and the point of this blog) relationship with it, and how you really feel about it. The hiccups and weirdness and absurdities are a feature of travel, not a bug.


I'm writing all of this because one of the things I'm worried about is this blog becoming a sort of travel porn. I will write about flying in Lufthansa's First Class in an upcoming trip; it will likely warrant being written about. I will write about being in Paris. I will write about around the world trips and eating fish on the fiftieth floor of a Japanese high-rise and any other experiences that strike me as being worth writing about. My goal in all this is not to make people jealous, or to even suggest a new place for them to take a vacation. What I don't want is for people to see a few photos and read a few paragraphs and think they've been to Berlin. What I want to do is pique people's interest about all the places there are in the world, and convince them to travel with a sense of curiosity about the place they're going to, and to highlight things like the Catalan Sombrero Shops and the bugs on the doors of the most obsessively detailed minor basilica in the world (La Sagrada Família is huge -- the spires make it one of the tallest buildings in Barcelona -- and it isn't even a cathedral, for Barcelona that's be the Catedral de la Santa Creu i Santa Eulália). My goal is to write about my perspective on the world in such a way that you, the reader, feel interested in seeing it for yourself, the messy bits and the wondrous bits and the stupid bits and all.


On my second-to-last scheduled day in Barcelona (my first effort to depart involved an airplane with a broken fuel gauge, and the pilot decided that no, we won't by flying over the North Atlantic with only a vague feeling for the fuel situation), I was walking near the Avinguda Diagonal when I turned a corner and a man in a blue polo shirt and shorts got in my face and began pointing at me and saying something very specific to me in what I assume was Catalan (a language I do not speak) and if not Spanish (a language I have in the past had survival-level familiarity with but not enough to understand angry-pointing-speak). I stood there, about six inches away from him, looking at him from behind my sunglasses, as a few people slowed down to see what the hell was about to happen. After ten seconds of this, the guy stomped off and I continued looking for a place to sit down and have a coffee.

The peculiar uproar in the blogosphere re: Hyatt's new "World of Hyatt" loyalty program

My travel schedule picked up quite a bit about two years ago, and I've been sorting out my preferred brands. The airline seemed a given, living near Denver, and for hotels I just sorta stayed at random places. Then I realized I had a bunch of orphaned points spread across programs where the top tier were catastrophically expensive (looking at you, Marriott) or where I could get a bunch of nights in hotels I didn't much care for (hello there, Hilton). Because I was already tied in with Chase's Ultimate Rewards program, and because they were 1:1 transfer partners, I took a look at Hyatt. The chain is geographically pretty limited, especially outside the US, but the Hyatt Place chain has exploded of late and god bless 'em every room I've stayed in at a Hyatt Place has been identical (this is really nice on business travel). Their Cash & Points is valuable, their top tier hotels can be got for 25-30k points a night (compare to 90k for Hilton which, yes, Hilton gives their points out like candy so the actual value I get out of a Hilton stay is comparable to a Hyatt stay on a per-dollar basis, but if I need to top it up I'm doing 1:1 transfers at about one third of the value), even their mid-tier hotels like the Grand Hyatt Berlin are pretty nice, etc. etc. on and on I decided that in 2017 I'd be trying out Hyatt's loyalty program.

Shortly after I made this decision, back in late October, Hyatt decided to make a drastic change to their loyalty program. Out with Gold Passport, in with World of Hyatt.

Looks like one of my half-assed high school science posters.

Looks like one of my half-assed high school science posters.

The blog-o-world of travel writers and the sentient snark-factories of Reddit immediately latched on to the fact that this looks like the CEO of Hyatt sat down with Word and hammered this logo out in thirty minutes. Then they found out the names of the new tiers: Platinum and Diamond were gone, and in came Discoverist, Explorist, and Globalist. Never mind that the first two aren't even words, and that the three names make the hierarchy damn near impossible to remember, this was a huge overhaul of the Hyatt loyalty program, and a lot of the aforementioned travel bloggers were pissed, and here's why. In the previous Gold Passport program, you could qualify for Diamond status purely with 25 total stays in Hyatt hotels. For that, you got what was probably the best top tier loyalty benefits in the industry: a bunch of suite stays, automatic room upgrades, and a bunch of point bonuses. In World of Hyatt, the top tier Globalist (honestly, I would rather they call the tiers '1' '2' and '3') can only be got with sixty nights in Hyatt hotels. This hurt a lot of the aforementioned bloggers because a lot of these guys's travel patterns are two nights in one city then on to the next. Now we're talking about 12 solid work-weeks in Hyatts over the course of a year to get to the top tier Globalist. Even though the perks are much, much better, it was still better to have the old Gold Passport Diamond than the crummy new World of Hyatt Explorist. Ditching the stays for pure nights was the hotel loyalty equivalent of the US carriers switching to a revenue-based miles system.

But see this is where I differ from those guys, because I'm guessing the best revenue-generating travelers are not doing 25 or 30 individual stays for two nights or so, but are traveling for three, four, five nights maybe once a month. And these travelers (myself as one of them) had no reason to stay with Hyatt because there was just no way we'd hit the 55 nights required to hit Diamond, and Platinum doesn't buy you much (and can be got with the co-branded credit card, making staying at Hyatt a nice option but by no means a loyalty requirement). Hyatt had abandoned these travelers to the other brands, most notably Starwood, who have solid mid-tier loyalty status (Gold status for Marriott, Gold w/ Starwood although it's their first tier it was harder to get than Hyatt Platinum and is worth more, Gold w/ Hilton, IHG has Platinum, see Hyatt, what's with 'Explorist'?).

So now Hyatt went from two tiers -- one you can get from a credit card and one that only very frequent travelers can get -- to three, which brings me to my actual point: Hyatt's Explorist is probably the best mid-tier hotel loyalty status out there. Hit 30 qualifying nights for Explorist and you get a free night in a Category 1-4 hotel, upgrades to the best non-club non-suite room (so think high floors or whatnot), and 4 club lounge passes, among other various unremarkable perks. Starwood, the gold standard of business travelers, offers for 25 nights an upgraded room which one time got me into the club level but that was a happy accident. There are some damn nice Category 4 Hyatt hotels including the Andaz Savannah (before you laugh, Savannah is a really neat town, I had to go there for a conference two years ago and I was sorta rolling my eyes at it but the riverfront area has some killer restaurants and bars and it's a cool atmosphere and I'd totally spend a weekend there wandering around), a few Park Hyatt locations in Asia (including Siem Reap and Saigon, which are both cities high on my 'To Visit' list), and about six Grand Hyatt locations in Europe. That perk alone is probably worth $200-$300, and you can chain it with the free night from the Hyatt credit card you probably have for a weekend stay.

Park Hyatt Saigon, from the ol' Park Hyatt Saigon website

Park Hyatt Saigon, from the ol' Park Hyatt Saigon website

So to me, as a semi-frequent traveler, Explorist is a pretty nice intermediate tier. Assuming I get the status every year and keep the credit card I can get a free weekend every year at a four to five star hotel in a pretty cool location (again, Park Hyatt Saigon), plus upgrades for those rooms to club level. I see the problem the change poses to the super-frequent travelers, but for the intermediate travelers this is a pretty big win.

La Habana

Since 1962, the United States has maintained a trade embargo with Cuba. US banks cannot operate in Cuba, US companies cannot sell their goods there, US citizens cannot travel there except (until recently, which is the subject of this post) under very particular circumstances. It is very easy, living in the United States, to forget that during that time Cuba has been a tropical vacation destination for most of the rest of the world. With the recent relaxation of those rules, as of writing (5 or so Jan., 2017), it is possible to visit Cuba for an expanded number of reasons.

One of those reasons happens to be attending an international scientific research conference. For this reason, combined with the intrigues of various people above my pay grade, and a casual friendship between an Italian physicist and an attache at the Cuban embassy in Rome, I was able to visit Havana for a conference in March 2016. At the time, only charter flights were operating from Los Angeles, Miami, and a few other US cities on to Havana. Furthermore, it was unlawful to book an arrival without booking a departure, and that combined with the conference straddling two months and the charters being scheduled only a month in advance, all of my travel was booked very much at the last minute. The result was an exorbitant airfare, and a restless night in a Miami Holiday Inn Express just across the street from the airport proper but still requiring twenty minutes by hotel shuttle to get to the airport in time for an 8 AM departure, with the caveat from the travel company that one should arrive at least four (!!!) hours in advance for these flights (again, as of March 2016, for charter flights).

On top of the difficulty in arrival, there is the issue of money. United States banks are not allowed to operate in Cuba, and though you can exchange US dollars for the Cuban Convertible Peso (CUC) that is the currency intended for tourists (as compared to the Cuban Peso, or CUP, meant for Cuban citizens, and you pay with one or the other but not both, which leads to all manner of confusion for tourists and Cubans alike). You will pay a 3% currency conversion fee, and a 10% penalty for exchanging USD to CUC, but not for other foreign currencies, so a wise and informed traveler (not me) would have pulled out the necessary amount of currency in Euros in the US to then exchange to CUC for a much better conversion rate. Travel has a way of exposing you to the many quirks of many places in the world.

This currency issue creates another problem, because you cannot go to an ATM and get more money if you run out of cash. If you have no more cash left, and require cash to leave the country, it is not clear what will happen. I mention this because the hotel we stayed at, the Hotel Nacional de Cuba, cost over $200/night, for five nights, plus a 13% loss in exchange, meant I had to bring about $1500 in cash to Cuba just to cover lodgings. In an email we received from the local organizer, Fidel Antonio Castro Smirnov (awkward laughter, assuming the name had to be fairly common in Cuba. But no, Fidel Castro's grandson is a nuclear physicist with a focus on medical applications. He also drives a late-1980s Lada, about the only half-decent car the Soviet Union ever produced, and you find these late-80s Lada sedans all over Cuba), we were told that there would be a way to pay with a credit card, that an email with a fabled "Link" would be sent around, you would follow that Link, and be able to pay with a US credit card. If this all sounds vague and shady, dear reader, I assure you it is much scarier when you are actually in Cuba doing this. Having not received this Link prior to leaving the US, I decided to bring more than enough cash for the trip. So I arrived in Cuba with a handful of documents that looked nowhere near as official as I'd have liked explaining to US Customs the reason for my visit, my old pre-chip passport, and about $2500 in large bills in my wallet.

(This Link, by the way, arrived on Thursday, and it was a link to a German version of PayPal. So I paid for the Cuban hotel using a US credit card in Euros. The fact that it was a German company was reassuring that this kinda shady-feeling transaction was on the level.)

There are a handful of things Americans closely associate with Cuba -- classic cars still used daily, Communism, booze and cigars, and food. Allow me to address these individually.

There are three kinds of cars in Cuba: the aforementioned late-80s Soviet econo-boxes, the 1950s American classic cars, and modern small Hyundais, with the classic cars and the Hyundais being used as taxis. There is a reason most modern cars look, feel, and drive the same. We have perfected the car about as far as the car can be perfected, to the point that the high end luxury cars available on the market today are as much a day spa as they are a vehicle for transportation, with the actual ride quality barely noticeably better than one of their economy counterparts. Brand new 1950s era American cars were large, rumbly, and unreliable out of the factory. Sixty years of shoestring maintenance with after market parts and improvised whatever does not improve the comfort of the ride. During the day, in Cuba, riding in a car with poor heat insulation from the floor (which has had whatever lining existing removed to expose the frame underneath) built before anyone had heard of air conditioning is a guaranteed way to exacerbate dehydration. You want to ride in one of the Hyundais, with their air conditioning and insulation and soft comfort. But at night, on the Malecón, a 1950s American convertible is the most perfect car you could possibly imagine. I typically avoid things I would label as "touristy" -- I lived in Long Island for five years and never once visited the Statue of Liberty or the Empire State Building -- but that ride in those cars is so, so, so very much cooler feeling than I could have imagined.

As to Communism, it is quite different from my experiences with China and Vietnam. Entering the Asian Communist countries required a page-sized visa in my passport, applied for more than a month in advance, and in the case of China a letter from a host taking responsibility for my personal conduct and moral behavior while in the country. Entering Cuba involved a stamp on the passport indicating my port of entry as José Martí Airport, and a single page justifying my visit for US Customs when I get back. The first thing that greets you exiting the airport are billboards of Che and Fidel and Raul. Billboards remind you that these revolutionary leaders give you, the Cuban citizen, everything you have today. That includes recent and lackluster internet, a Stasi-style national police, and a freely available health care system. The Cuban government is very focused on that health care system, as it is one of the few things it does well. There are half a dozen or more medical research institutes, mostly around Havana. Hospitals face the usual scarcity of a poor country in a command economy, and the facilities are typically outdated. But the service itself is free, and nobody complains of long lines waiting for treatment (in fact, one person at the conference fell ill and required antibiotics, and the bill was something like $20 for what was basically an emergency room visit).

The Cuban government also has a unique approach to censorship. You can be carted off to jail for any number of reasons, but the government-run national modern art gallery had a handful of pieces whose subversive nature was apparent to me as a casual observer with only limited familiarity with Cuban culture or the Spanish language (it also seems that mid-century Cuban artists had an obsession with vaginas run through an Expressionist filter). There was also an installation, in the lobby, recreating the prison cell where a number of dissidents were held by the Cuban police for their outspoken politics. The censorship, to a casual observer, therefore seems brutal and haphazard, and perhaps it is, since not knowing how to stick your head up without it getting taken off is a great way to keep everyone's head down.

Cuban cigars exist in the American zeitgeist as a symbol of wealth and power, a sort of lazy symbolic code for some East Coast Fat Cat of questionable moral character and substantial means. They also have a reputation for being the finest cigars in the world, so much so that the Cuban government has built an extremely high-tech anti-counterfeiting system whereby each box has a QR code that can be scanned and its authenticity verified. I cannot speak to the quality of Cuban cigars, as my smoking experience were limited to a handful of months towards the end of graduate school when I would have a coffee/beer and a cigarette I would bum off a Bangladeshi friend and I'm pretty sure they were not the best cigarettes in the world. I can, however, comment on the quality of brown liquors, and Cuban rum is a masterpiece of distilling. Rum in general has not received the attention it deserves, which is fine because it keeps even the best rums affordable (23 year rums will run you around $70-$100, comparable in price to very-good-but-not-great Scotch), and the Cuban stuff is regarded as the best for good reason.

The food in Cuba is much hit or miss. One of the best meals I had in the country was in an Italian restaurant, which two Italian guests approved of. The famed Cuban sandwich was a disappointment -- I've had better in Colorado and much better in Atlanta, although I've never had one in Miami -- while other meals ranged from enjoyable to functional. The trouble is that the government operates a number of restaurants, and these restaurants will simply never fail, so they are routinely empty and sub-standard. Recently the Cuban government has allowed privately run restaurants, called paladares, that have to compete in the free market against government restaurants that undercut their prices. As time goes on and competition expands, the quality of the food will likely improve, and with enough paladares it is conceivable that Havana could become a food destination. But right now substandard ingredients and a lack of incentive to provide quality food makes the Havana restaurant scene a mixed bag. Mexico remains king of food destinations in Latin America.

These are all general observations about Cuba, so what was my actual trip like?

Because of my late evening arrival to Miami and early morning departure, I think I slept three or four hours the night before my arrival, so I landed in José Martí Airport tired and unable to focus. The gentleman at customs asked if I wanted my passport stamped -- there is a classic mark of an illicit Cuba visit in many American passports with two arrival stamps for Mexico and a missing departure stamp -- and of course since my trip was legal I wanted to collect this stamp to add to my visas for China and Vietnam. Security entering the country involved a metal detector, and emptied immediately into the airport's baggage claim, which was two carousels and which took a remarkable amount of time considering my flight seemed to be the only flight at the airport.

Fidel Antonio Castro Smirnov (who was polite, helpful, an absolutely spectacular dancer, and very clearly aware that he was in charge) had sent an informational email telling me someone would be meeting all the conference guests at baggage claim and getting us on chartered buses to take us to the Hotel Nacional de Cuba, the finest hotel in all of Cuba or so the combination of price and location would indicate. This woman could not be found immediately, and I spent thirty minutes wandering around the terminal trying to find someone, anyone, to ask for help. This is a recurring theme of my trip to Cuba: I would be assured that someone would help me, that someone would be difficult to find creating a stressful situation, and then they would arrive and be very friendly and helpful and everything would work just fine and everything would finish right when it needed to be finished.

I arrived at the Hotel Nacional de Cuba several hours before the room was ready, around 10 AM. This gave me a chance to wander around the hotel and read the many signs informing you of its history. The HNC opened in 1930, built in the Art Deco style, and was the most luxurious hotel in a country used as a sort of Ibiza in the 1930s until the Revolution. Frank Sinatra, Winston Churchill, and Jesse Ventura have all stayed in the HNC at one point or another. The back of the hotel sits on a cliff overlooking the Malecón, and one of the first thing I saw walking out the back was the blue Caribbean and a large number of yachts and sailboats. Havana, I am informed, is a popular port of call with extremely affluent Europeans -- one person emphasized the Dutch, although I had no encounters of my own -- and these boats all belong to élites on an extended vacation. The hotel rooms themselves had the sort of dark blue carpet and had a persistent bleach-like smell that didn't seem to correlate with any recent cleaning. The mattresses were collapsed, and the room had two rocking chairs flanking a table with a 1930s-ish lamp and an ash tray, turned facing into the room. I quickly fixed this, to have the chairs facing out the window and at the view of the Malecón and the sea beyond. The orientation of the chairs became a daily battle between myself and room service, who seemed to believe I'd rather look at my darkly lit room than the ocean.

View of the Malecón from the HNC.

The HNC has that classic 'H' shape that hotels of a certain era seemed to adopt as a default footprint, with the lobby in the crossbar and restaurants on either side. The sea-view-side of the H offered shaded couches and waiters selling glasses of rum for the eyewatering-in-Cuba price of 4CUC/4USD (CUCs are pegged to the USD, which makes the 10% 'fuck your embargo' tax all the more irritating) for a double. The clientele in that area area consisted of European tourists, people attending this conference, a handful of Americans in Cuba for reasons that I will assume are legal, and a few peacocks.

The peacocks at HNC wandered around the sea-viewing side of the H as if they owned the place, and were unbothered by humans. At one point, I shared a couch with a peacock that had decided to join me. These couches were cushy and comfortable and always in the shade, and somehow never had any excrement from the peacocks that used them as perches to shriek at guests. I have never had close contact with peacocks, so I have no basis for expecting them to defecate everywhere, but extrapolating my bird-knowledge would lead me to believe that these couches should've been an absolute mess.

I wanted to sleep, and it was 10 AM, so I couldn't sleep, so I started drinking water and rum. I had arrived in Miami around 11 PM the previous night, so food was not an option, and so at this point I had not eaten since lunch, noon Mountain Time, the previous day, the counter being at twenty-two hours. My phone did not work, my internet did not work, and it was through blind luck that I happened upon some colleagues who were organizing a trip to the beach. The cab ride was a pleasure and the driver was happy to make suggestions for a better beach that the locals go to instead of the super-touristy-beach, meaning the beer would be cheaper and the water less crowded. This is a running theme in Cuba: the Cuban people are as warm and helpful as you will ever encounter (with the exception of one tour guide, who repeatedly informed us that if we were not at the meet-up point after each stop he would just leave us and it was a long walk back to the hotel) and love the Cuban nation even if their attitude towards the government is perhaps less supportive. One thing I kept noticing is that most of the taxis had two crossed flags, Cuban and American, and when asked about it I was told that they have relatives in America and have visited many times and love America but also love Cuba. Another thing worth noting is that my visit was the week after President Obama's trip to Cuba -- the first visit by a sitting president since Calvin Coolidge -- and there were posters of Obama and Raul Castro everywhere. The interesting part of these posters, clearly made by the local businesses, is that Obama was almost always in the foreground, and almost always bigger than Castro. This is another thing about Cuba that you pick up talking to people. Black and mixed-race Cubans make up about 35% of the population, but there are no such people at the upper echelons of the Cuban government. I later learned that African-descended Cubans love Obama because he's the first world leader like them, and although it would be a major faux pas to publicly voice this, Obama is more popular than the Castros among many-if-not-most Cubans. I have noticed, among Americans, a belief oft repeated that the countries that we have messed with in the past "hate us", which makes a number of mistakes (non-American countries do not represent monolithic opinions any more than the United States is a country operating on widespread consensus, that people living in certain foreign countries spend some allocated amount of time gnashing their teeth and cursing America when they're probably more worried about what they're going to eat for dinner) but in my own personal experience is simply not true and in fact in my experience if I were lost in a random city the countries where someone is most likely to really go out of their way to help me are exactly these countries that "hate us".

Anyway, the beach. Beer was sold out of a cooler for 1 CUC for a bottle of iirc Corona, and I'm now on twenty-eight hours with no food, and I left my sun block in the hotel and had to borrow from a friend while also helping to apply sun block to the backs of professional colleagues of my own age, which despite having known (and in some cases been absolutely ripped with) these people for several years, is nevertheless a peculiar experience that would be repeated throughout the week. The beach was beautiful, natural white sand, and there were almost no boats or jet skis in the ocean, which made the whole experience more enjoyable.

The opening of the conference was unique, in that I had never had a conference opened with a speech from a higher up in UNESCO, nor had I ever had the opening speeches include a musical number from opera singers, covering Queen no less. Otherwise the conference was a conference, albeit one right next to the beach, with activities planned every night. It was obvious the organizers wanted to show off Cuba, and they made a point of it with guided tours and a dance party (for physicists) and a conference banquet and a trip to an exclusive beach club that used to be for the wealthiest people under Batista until Castro took over then it was for the most influential people under Castro and, truth be told, it was a very pleasant place, although due to pretty bad sun burn from day one I had to sit this one out and read a book in the shade. Overall, the impression was that this conference was as much a scientific conference as a chance for Cuba to show off their best stuff.

One excursion, the most enjoyable one, was a walking tour of old Havana. There's a fair number of public sculptures sprinkled around the various squares and streets that make up the old city. A marble statue of Carlos Manuel de Céspedes, who declared Cuban independence and is regarded as the father of the Cuban nation. Colorful sculptures of rodent-like-animals lined up in a row. A peculiar bronze of a nude woman carrying a large fork and riding a larger rooster. All of this can be found amidst the dozen or so locations that claim a close tie to Ernest Hemingway.

An Internet search of "Woman riding cock Havana" yields useful information about this bronze sculpture by Roberto Fabelo, located in the Plaza Vieja.

Havana has a special kinship with Hemingway. Ernest first went to Cuba in 1939, and kept a winter residence in Havana and visiting the city repeatedly until 1960 when, after the failed Bay of Pigs Invasion, the Cuban government seized his home, "Finca Vigia", along with a library of somewhere north of four thousand books. During those visits, he drank an awful lot at La Bodeguita del Medio (mojito) and La Floridita (daiquiri) bars (which are still open, and if you can fight through the tourist crowd, you can enjoy a drink), convinced the pre-revolutionary Cuban government to refit his 38 foot fishing boat, the Pilar, to hunt German submarines, and wrote in part many of his most famous books. Finca Vigia is now the Ernest Hemingway Museum, and the boat and the books and a bunch of his other possessions can now be seen for 3 CUC.

Saturday morning, my last day in Cuba, and I have a 6 PM flight home. I'm Cuba'd out. I'm sitting in a restaurant in the HNC basement eating a thoroughly average club sandwich and chatting with a friend when some rando American sits down at the table next to us. He orders a Coke, because I'm pretty sure the Coca-Cola Corporation is fully aware of how to sell in Cuba without running afoul of the embargo. He then injects himself into our conversation, talking about his experiences in Cuba, how he's been coming to Cuba for two decades doing cultural exchange stuff as a track coach. He then begins talking about how the Cuban government does not like Cuban citizens getting comfortable with foreigners, and it is obvious he means conjugally. He won't outright say "Strangers! I come to Cuba to teach middle school kids how to run faster, and to partake in the illegal but quite thriving sex trade on this island", although he does also mention that he enjoys vacationing in Thailand, so there you go. He then asks my friend and I if we are married. Sanity is built on little white lies, so I inform him that yes, I am happily married, thereby avoiding a potential lifehack for how to hire a prostitute in Cuba. To this day I cannot decide what ratio of this was bragging (it's always confused me that someone who hires prostitutes will try to present themselves as a "lady's man", the mind reels) versus trying to be helpful to Cuba-visiting novices.

So what's the final verdict on Havana? Probably not a destination for anyone new to international travel, or anyone looking for things to go "smoothly". It is not a food destination, and although its beaches are phenomenal there are other nations in the Caribbean that are easier to get to without doing charitable work or lying about why you're visiting (n.b. the author does not endorse lying to US Customs. This is a bad idea, and could get you in very very serious trouble with people who can ruin your life and have no sense of humor.). The infrastructure is not ready for heavy volumes of tourists (one toilet, no seat). Cuba is not a place for luxury travel if you carry a US passport and use US banks and want things to go smoothly. So as a travel destination, Cuba doesn't make a lot of sense. But this feels unfair, as Havana is a city full of historical architecture, interesting art museums, friendly people, and pretty decent food. It's just that there are better options that are much more accessible.

Around the World with Points & Miles: A 2017 Idyll Trip

For the last three years I have sworn I'm going to travel less and spend more time at home meeting new people in my home town, getting new hobbies, and all that. Every year this has become less true, and 2017 will be the least true it's ever been. Already this year I have two planned trips to Europe and one to Japan. The first European excursion will be my first time in Paris and Milan, and the second will see me taking a train trip from Barcelona to Rome, with stops along the Mediterranean coast. These will be quite the experience, and a good chance to try some excellent food in spectacular settings.

But the trip I'm most excited about is Japan and, on the way, Singapore. That seems to be taking the long way around, given that a flight from San Francisco to Tokyo is many hours shorter than a flight from New York to Singapore. But this is the trip where I plan to cash in a bunch of my points and miles for something extra special.

When you read the stories of the million mile members that regularly fly in first class on international flights and wonder how you do that, the answer is actually quite simple: you have to fly. A lot. On the scale of one flight per week, frequently in paid business class. For those of us who are (un?)fortunate enough to travel less regularly, and flying on lower fares, we can only hope to take one grand trip a year if we plan and save right. This is my trip for this year, and from built up miles from last year. I plan to fly literally around the world, from New York to Singapore by way of Frankfurt, then onwards to Tokyo, and finally back to San Francisco. I will pay for all of this with my built up miles and points, so I'm only paying for one domestic flight and hotels with cash.

Around the world in eighty hours.

I will fly around the world in about eighty hours of flight time, flying first in Singapore Airline's Suite class, and then in ANA's first class cabins. This will be my first time flying international first class, and I'm looking forward to the full experience. I reserve the right to reverse the order, depending on what works best for me, and of course I will be reporting on the trip as I go along some time in November.

The total trip will cost around 250,000 total miles and points. That's an awful lot of domestic round trip flights for one big adventure. Why am I taking this trip, instead of popping around the United States?

We don't have this stuff in the United States (from wikimedia commons).

We don't have this stuff in the United States (from wikimedia commons).

The biggest reason is the food -- Tokyo may be the restaurant capital of the world, and Singapore has a mix of every food culture imaginable. The beautiful skylines, the clean cities, and the culture everywhere is another pretty good reason for taking the trip. Finally, I view points and miles as a way to take luxurious travel I wouldn't ordinarily take. Full fare on these flights in international first class would easily exceed $20,000. Yes, I could fly in economy overseas, but I've done that a dozen times already, and believe me it's exhausting. I've done the Central American chicken bus (and would definitely do it again) and I've flown the thirteen hours from San Francisco to Shanghai in coach with half the lavatories broken. It's high time to took the flight with a little bit of style. And Singapore Airlines and ANA offer quite a bit of style.

This will be one of those trips you never forget; the very embodiment of "idyll travel".

What is "idyll travel"?

I am what I like to call a "recreational planner". Some thought will pop into my head - "you should be an astronaut", say - and I will spend a few hours reading about what it would take to make this plan a reality. This can be fun, but it can also become a sort of pornography, voyeuristic pleasure about an experience that isn't mine.

One day, the thought popped into my head that I should spend my thirty-second birthday in Vienna. I'd never been to Vienna, but I'd heard great things about it. An imperial city, full of culture and history and food. The capital of Europe for centuries.

By coincidence, I was invited to a workshop in Munich. I'm a three hour train ride away from Vienna the week before my birthday, and now I have to go.

About three months before my birthday, I decided on the Vienna trip. I ended up staying in a five star hotel, seeing palaces and eating food and wandering through museums created by European nobility and drinking coffee in a café frequented by the likes of Sigmund Freud and Leon Trotsky. There was Wagnerian opera and crowns for long-dead empires and an entire museum floor of Egon Schiele's art.

Egon Schiele 080.jpg
Self-portrait by Egon Schiele - Distributed by DIRECTMEDIA Publishing GmbH., Public Domain, Wikimedia

I did this with minimal planning, existing savings, hotel points, and some strategy. This is idyll travel - the ability to take the trip you want to take without having to stress about every detail. This site is about setting up systems that automate your travel, so you can go on vacation without having to spend months or even a year planning all the details.

Travel in the twenty-first century is as accessible as it's ever been. A universal translator is now an app for your smart phone. The world is connected by airlines so completely that you can start in any country in the world and end up in any other country within two days. The so-called "millennial" generation has more access to the world than any previous generation. Idyll travel is about making the most of these opportunities.