Two lanes of paved road wind through the valleys near Monterey, agriculture and activity on every side, lettuces and vines. In late fall, harvest is still afoot, and laborers roam up and down the rows, picking and pruning, from early morning hours ’til late in the day. Sorting and processing whirs above the silence, and if you’re lucky, there’ll be an afternoon pour at lunch.
Travel bits, bites, and adventures.
Denver, that old Mile High City. Where it used to be an airport hub, or a stopover when traveling to Vail or Aspen, the Colorado capital has seen its interior corridor flourish over the last decade, with building renovations and art installations. The restaurant and bar scene continues to thrive as well, bringing kitchens from New York, LA, and Portland in recent years.
There’s never been a debate in our house on how to pronounce Louisville. When I was a kid, my stepfather made frequent business trips south, guiding his Kentucky sales team on the best practices for selling snowblowers before the Midwest winter began.
It was tough to sleep on the red-eye from Vancouver, British Columbia, to Toronto, Ontario. When I initially booked my tickets from Portland, Oregon, to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, the cheapest route put me through Canada, which I certainly didn’t mind. A short jump to Vancouver, a red-eye flight, and a day to play in Toronto before I boarded for Brazil.
Aside from your relationship with potatoes, you hadn’t really crossed my mind over the years, your state little more than a hostage to the French fry existence. As it turns out, there’s more to you, with over 180 agricultural products, a top producer of Austrian winter peas, trout, barley, sugarbeets – and yes, potatoes. You also have a serious relationship with wine. Who knew?
My knowledge of the Tri-Cities area had been somewhere between the Hanford Site and the Kennewick Man over the last fifteen years of my Northwest residence. It seemed a flat, uninteresting corridor in the lower middle of Washington state with nothing but space to offer, overshadowed by the evergreen of Seattle further west.
There wasn’t much English being tossed around on my flight from Canada to Brazil. Throughout the nearly-eleven-hour trip, I heard Portuguese, Spanish, French, German – but very few words I understood.
Piling into a crowded, frenzied amusement park is generally the last on my list of trips to take, but as a parent, it is inevitably a moment that arrives at some point, the pulling of ones heartstrings, t-shirt, and wallet until tickets are purchased, hotels are booked, and comfortable shoes are packed.