Matador Network's Blog, page 2150

How to act like a local in a Spanish

Photo: Maureen Barlin

1. Get pissed if you don’t get free food with your drink

This free tapa could range from some chips or olives to an authentic dish of callos, but you have a right to it. After getting your drink, if the waiter doesn’t come back with something to eat, not even after staring at him for a few minutes, you have two options: ask for some chips or decide to never come back. Remember: You’re in a country with more bars per person than anywhere else. Chances are you’ll find another bar on the same street where you’ll be served your free snack or tapa.

2. Don’t worry about the tip

No, it doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t leave a tip. Tips are nice; waiters will love you. But they are not compulsory, and if you just had a coffee you’re not really expected to leave anything — especially if you’re a regular costumer. And in case you do want to leave a tip, forget all those complicated calculations to find the perfect quantity. You’ll get your change back in a small plate. Take some coins and leave the rest.

3. Read the newspaper

Not the newspaper you brought with you. Bars in Spain always have several newspapers for their customers to flip through while sipping coffee. You’ll have plenty to choose from: national newspapers like El País or El Mundo, and regional and local newspapers as well. You can leave the bar knowing what’s going on all around you.

4. Don’t ask why the TV is on with the sound off

Weird, right? Why the hell is there a TV on with no sound? Why this combination of image from one source (TV) and sound from a different one (usually some music)? Try to act as if that was normal. It is in Spain. You could even be watching some music videos on the screen and hearing different songs coming from the speakers. Unless there’s a football match going on, then the sound returns.

5. Order coffee properly

A latte machiatto, you said? No wonder the waiter is looking at you as if you came from another planet! Coffees in Spain have their own vocabulary, and they don’t even match the types of coffee you know how to order in Italian. We have café solo (just coffee, like an espresso), café con leche (coffee with milk, and it’s exactly that, don’t expect any foam, but know that you can have it with hot, warm or cold milk), and then everything that comes in between: manchado (lots of milk, just a bit of coffee; you can also order it as corto de café), and cortado (lots of coffee, a bit of milk). Then you have descafeinado (decaf), which can be de sobre (instant decaf coffee), or de máquina (decaf espresso). And of course, carajillo: coffee with alcohol.

6. Go for breakfast, coffee break, aperitivo, lunch, merienda, dinner or at night

In some countries, bars are a place to drink alcohol, so depending on the hour and frequency you visit them, you could be seen as an alcoholic. Not in Spain. You can go for breakfast, for your coffee break, to have some drink and snack before lunch, to have lunch (some plato combinado, menú del día or bocadillo), to have coffee after lunch, to merendar (supper), and even for dinner. And then, of course, to drink at night. Some bars seem to be open 24 hours…because they are!

7. Take your children

Who would take a child to a bar? Remember: Spanish bars are not only to drink alcohol. It’s neither wrong nor weird to take kids (even a baby!) to a bar for breakfast or lunch. The most dangerous thing they’ll see is that eternal old man by the bar drinking a carajillo.

8. Throw toothpicks and napkins to the floor

Or maybe don’t. Bar owners are trying to end this centuries-old habit of filling the floor with garbage. And also remember that there are different kinds of bars in Spain, and that what would be okay in a taberna wouldn’t be appropriate in a cafetería. The best advice: look at the floor. Is it dirty and scattered with paper napkins and toothpicks? You can do it. Is it clean? Leave it that way.

9. Talk to the owner if you sit at the bar

Going to a Spanish bar, especially if it’s not crowded and you choose to stay by the bar, is like taking a taxi. Taxi drivers want conversation, and so do barkeeps. Topics range from the weather to politics to football. Have a look at the local newspaper cover to know what you should be talking about. Or have a glimpse at the soundless TV and comment on the images. If you’re successful, you might find more customers join the conversation!

Torres del Paine in photos

Macizo del Paine, the central massif of the park as seen from Lago Pehoé as we cross the waters.

Wording by Monica Racic. All images and captions by the author, Michael Marquand.
Day 1: Lago Pehoé to the Grey Glacier

The first leg of the trail is reached by crossing Lago Pehoé, a lake of such vibrant turquoise that people crowd the stern of the catamaran I stand on, paralysed by the awe its surreal hue weaves. Tiny particles of silt, formed from glacial erosion that become suspended in water runoff, cause the lake to appear cloudy and lends it a turquoise colour, which has come to be known as “glacial milk.” Once my meditative downward stare is broken, I finally look up: towering above Lago Pehoé is the Macizo del Paine, the central massif of the park. The massif was originally formed when volcanic magma cooled, turning into granite. As the millennia passed, layers of sediment compressed over the rock and, as immense geological pressure forced the formations upwards, glaciers retreated, carving away the softer sediments and forming the mammoth towers we see today. Although seemingly every geological phenomenon in the park can be explained by science, there is still the unshakable sense that what you are seeing could only possibly be borne out of magic.

Our Catamaran docked in the turquoise glacier waters right before taking us across Lago Pehoé, to the official entrance to the park.

After landing on the opposite shore, full of energy and optimism, we set out for the Grey Glacier. The first hour or so of this trail is fairly flat, but as the walk progresses, it fluctuates in elevation along a rocky ridge that contours Lago Grey. This leg should only take about four hours, and about halfway in — if it is not too windy — you can walk out onto a ledge at the Mirador Grey, where you’ll see the glacier looming at the north shore of the lake. The Grey Glacier is part of the Southern Patagonian Ice Field, which runs along the southern Andes, between Argentina and Chile. It’s the third largest ice sheet in the world, after Antarctica and Greenland, and during the last glacial period it covered all of southern Chile. While I am perched out on the mirador, marvelling at this thought, a belligerent thrust of wind knocks me down. The unrelenting winds in Patagonia are notoriously dangerous, known to top even 180 km/h. Sadly, according to a local guide, there were five deaths along the W circuit in 2012. If a strong wind picks up at the wrong moment, it can kick you off the mountain.

The somewhat fragile wooden suspension bridge sitting above the the Rio del Francés at the last leg of the days hike before Camp Italiano.

Early that evening, we reach Refugio Grey and set up our tent on the adjacent campgrounds. Without the burden of our packs, we trail-run 20 minutes north to inspect the glacier up close. This final sprint of endurance is contrasted by the immense stillness and grandeur of the Grey Glacier before us.

Day 2: The Grey Glacier to Lago Pehoé

Having marvelled at our good fortune for a temperate, calm first day, I awake the next morning to a rainstorm. The best advice for anyone trekking the W is to resign yourself to the fact that you will get wet. Even the best waterproof gear won’t save you. Be smart, but don’t stress. Take extra plastic bags to wrap any clothes or electronics inside your pack. We quickly disassemble our tent and wait underneath an enclosure until the rain dies down.

Small orange wooden sign giving direction to different campsites within the park.

After 20 minutes we forge ahead and, about an hour into our trek, the sun breaks through and alleviates the damp chill, giving us a fresh boost of energy. Hiking back the way we came, towards Lago Pehoé, I notice things I never saw the first time, including waterfalls pouring over cliffs in the distance. From one of the many tributary streams, we stop to refill our canteens. Unlike bottled water, the water in Patagonia is not “purified,” rather, it is pure. That taste of purity is not the absence of flavour, but — and I mean this in earnest — a taste of genuine freshness.

We descended upon the Asencio Valley along the W circuit only hours after leaving the 3,040 feet altitude of the snowy mountains. Literally going from winter to spring in a matter of hours partially due to the complex orography or the region.

As the sun bears down on us, we stop to strip layers of clothing, and I notice large swathes of dead trees, standing like charred skeletons, littered amongst the otherwise pristine landscape. If a spark is picked up by the horrendous Patagonian wind, thousands of trees burn within minutes. Thanks to huge fires in 1985, 2005, and 2011 — inadvertently caused by tourists — the park office has banned campfires. Cooking is allowed only by way of small camping stoves, which must be shielded from wind by an enclosure.

The Grey Glacier at the north Shore of the lake. As seen from Mirador Grey. The Grey Glacier is part of the Southern Patagonian Ice Field, which runs along the southern Andes, between Argentina and Chile.

Just as we make it back to the shores of Lago Pehoé, a dense fog swoops in, obscuring the Macizo del Paine, and it begins to rain once more. We are supposed to continue on to the next campsite, Campamento Italiano, but as it is in the basin of a valley, it will flood. We change plans, hunker down, and instead set up our tent on the shores of Lago Pehoé. It happens to be New Year’s Eve, and so we are joined by a serendipitous grouping of strangers, who have also gathered inside an enclosure at the refugio to escape the wind and the rain.

Day 3: Lago Pehoé to Valle Frances

On our third morning, we awake to more agreeable weather and spend the next few hours hiking to the Italiano campsite with the sun on our backs. While trekking through the park, many travellers may find a hidden treat: calafate berries. A local guide says it’s common lore that “anyone who eats a calafate berry is sure to return to Patagonia” and with a broad, knowing smile, he offers me a palm full of the sweet fruit. After hours of trekking, along a level trail, we near the Italiano campsite. But first, we need to cross the Rio del Francés, a cascading and treacherous river. Only two people can walk on the suspension bridge at a time, so we cross slowly, two-by-two. On the other side of the bridge, I see the campsite, nestled within a forest of massive lenga trees.

These are calafate berries. A local guide says it’s common lore that “anyone who eats a calafate berry is sure to return to Patagonia.”

Once we drop off our gear and set up camp, we start our ascent into the Valle del Francés, the middle leg of the W. Much of the terrain and flora found in this part of the trail is similar to that of the Pacific Northwest. Trekking poles prove to be pivotal in maintaining balance as we hop from rock to rock, crossing multiple rivers. While you may never quite have to rock scramble, this leg of the trail may be the closest you come to it. You will need to use your hands to hoist yourself over rocks or to maintain balance, while granny-stepping along ledges.

Men on horseback traveling across the Valle del Francés.

The trail curls along the edge of a massive waterfall which feeds the Rio del Francés, both of which are sourced by the snow-capped mountains lying in wait ahead. This leg of the trail requires the most attention. I am in my trekking groove now, focusing on every step I take. But my trance is interrupted when a fellow trekker exclaims, “Did you hear that?!” We pause and I can hear ice falling from the Paine Grande up ahead. Thankfully we are not in any danger. I sprint through a windy dirt path obstructed by branches and massive stones, until I reach a clearing where I am once again in awe of the beauty of this place. Surrounded by the Paine Grande (3,050m above sea level), with the Cuernos towers on the other side, and an aquamarine lake below, I am insignificant — just a tiny dot amidst a formidable terrain. Standing at this point in the Valle del Francés is like being at the centre of some magnificent cinematic panorama. You are enveloped by a symphony of sounds — the roaring waterfall, the heavy wind and the deep, guttural vibrations which echo around you and that signal an avalanche.

In Patagonia, you are constantly reminded that the earth is alive and, in some instances, it feels as though it might swallow you whole. “Look!” Someone points to an avalanche that I can just barely see. By the time the sound reaches me, it’s already happened. We continue up the mountain to another lookout point, meandering through (what feels like) an enchanted forest, full of mammoth trees with gnarled, twisted branches, and the wind grates against my face. Just then, when I doubt nature has any more wonders to reveal, it begins to snow.

Day 4: Campamento Italiano to Campamento Las Torres

It’s day four of our W trek, and today we cover the most ground in a single day — nearly 27km. Fortunately, it is the most beautiful day we have experienced yet: sunny and warm, with a gentle breeze. Later that evening at camp, I see a sign nailed to the ranger’s cabin: “DO NOT ASK ABOUT THE WEATHER TODAY. THIS IS PATAGONIA. WE DO NOT KNOW.” Along our entire trip we experience rain, snow, and a searing sun, certainly all within the same day, and occasionally within moments of each other. We come to welcome the challenge, even its arbitrariness, and we appreciate the blessing of good weather — however long it lasts.

One of our fellow hikers enjoying the view of the water with the ice field in the distance.

This leg of the trail will leads us to the base of the Torres del Paine, but first we must walk along Lago Nordenskjöld, around the base of Mount Almirante Nieto, up into Valle Ascencio, and towards campamento Las Torres. This portion of the trek includes every type of terrain: rocky shores, arid land with dust and stones, forests of lenga trees, and vast golden prairies. As we reach the top of an incline, we turn a corner and see the immense Ascencio Valley below. In the distance I spot people, tiny as insects, hiking towards where I am now.

Our local guide looks at me expectantly. “Amazing, no?” He laughs. I stand there in shock. Not only do I see those tiny specs in the distance and think “I still have to get to there,” but I also think of those poor souls in the distance behind me, struggling to make their way to where I am now. We carry on, and two hours later arrive at camp. That evening (although you’d never know it was evening with Patagonia’s 18 hours of sunlight) multiple trekkers huddle together beneath a single enclosure. Physically exhausted, we toast each other with beer and wine, which we’ve carried in our packs for this very moment. We have nearly completed the W, and the last obstacle to conquer — the Torres del Paine — awaits us in the morning.

Day 5: The Torres del Paine

We awake at 4am and begin hiking for an hour in the dark, along a rocky incline. With a few minutes left before dawn breaks over the horizon, I need to make it to the top of this summit where, if I’m lucky, I’ll see one of the most evocative and legendary vistas on earth: the Torres del Paine, at the precise moment that the sun hits the peaks. I see faint hints of rose-gold wash upon the stones before me and I start to move faster. I am literally, racing the sun. Just a few moments after hoisting myself over a behemoth rock, and, as I catch my breath, the sun crosses the horizon sparking a fire of light on the mountain peaks. Sunlight flows down the side of the towers like lava.

Hiker crossing another suspension bridge on the final day of our journey.

This entire trip can be summarised in one word: grandeur, both external and internal. There is, of course, the immensity and majesty of the landscape, but also the shock of my own personal endurance when confronted by capricious weather and the limitations of my own body. In Patagonia, not only am I reminded that the earth is alive, but I too am exhilarated and feel alive.

We had to leave at 4am to hike an hour to catch the famous Mirador Torres at first light. Here a lone hiker watches the peaks while the sun rises.

As I am contemplating this maudlin thought, the sun becomes buried beneath a series of blueberry coloured clouds. A young man, who is sitting on a rock some distance away, approaches me and says something that, were it said by a stranger back home in New York City, might have felt uncomfortable, but here it feels heartening. “Isn’t that something beautiful we just experienced together?” he asks. As frightening as the world is at times, we are privileged to experience the beauty in it, however fleeting it may be.

Why vegetarians should go to Vietnam

Photo: BOMBTWINZ

1. You probably won’t get diarrhea.

Probably. Lettuce can get dirty, and reused straws washed in dirty dishwater isn’t exactly a gold-star promise of health, but by and large, eating veggie in Vietnam is pretty safe. It’s a cuisine the locals know how to do healthily and well, and they’ve been perfecting it for centuries. That burger, though? You may end up with a lot of time on your hands to contemplate why you just had to have a burger from a place named ‘OMG!’ while you shiver on your toilet, unmentionables coming out of both ends.

2. You will actually be able to communicate that you are vegetarian.

When Alexandre de Rhodes romanized the Vietnamese language in the 17th century, he must have had vegetarians in mind. The word for “vegetarian” in Vietnamese is the super simple “chay.” You just say it flat and evenly — no rising or falling intonation, no awkward glottal stops in the middle, no nothin’. Just say it like a robot might say it, point to yourself or your desired dish like the foreigner you are, and your job is done. If your waiter or waitress can’t understand that, then you’re complicating it.

(Side note: you could also say, “không thịt,” meaning no meat, but that’ll lead to two potential problems: saying “no meat” doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy things like fish sauce or chicken broth, and “không thịt” is way easier to butcher than “chay.”)

3. It’s so cheap you’ll think it’s a scam.

Whether you’re in Ho Chi Minh City or the 7-person village of Rang Rang, about every 100 yards you’ll find a short, middle-aged, sun-baked woman working hard at her food cart. She’ll be standing at a portable steel and plastic cart, where the counter is lined with frying pans and the plastic shelves lined with ingredients, all of which are baking in the sun as much as their keeper.

The front of this cart will more than likely say “Bánh Mi,” but don’t fall for it: this is not the banh mi you know, the one you pay $8 for at your favorite go-to fusion eatery. Tell her “bánh mi hai trứng,” (that’s a bánh mi with two eggs), and watch the pan to hear the egg sizzle and to make sure she doesn’t sneak in any ,pâté (in that case, tell her “không thịt,” or no meat).

If you’d like to feel your tongue burst into a salty, MSG-ridden high, add on “nhiều xì dầu” (lots of soy sauce) and if you’re feeling guilty, add on “nhiều rau.” That’ll get you strips of pickled carrots and cucumber, wedges of fresh tomato carved out of the fruit while you watch, and cilantro and scallions garnered by the bunch that morning from the nearest market. She’ll pile on the fixings into a fresh-baked, soft and airy baguette, wrap it in newspaper that soon gets hot and moist to the touch, and ask you for about 50 cents.

50 cents.

But the bánh mi isn’t the only example of vegetarian fare that would please a frugal, shoestring backpacker. A bowl of phở chay, a fresh watermelon, tofu spring rolls — none of these will cause you need to break out the $5 bill. For $1 or $2, you can sample the local vegetarian cuisine at its finest and freshest, and never have your palette grow weary.

3. Vegetarian food is everywhere in Vietnam.

If you haven’t graduated to talking to non-English speaking waiters about modifying dishes to meet your dietary restrictions, fear not: the word “chay” can be seen on signage all over the place. Vegetarian restaurants — from the aluminum pots of a hole-in-the-wall to the five-star-pinkies-up kind — are incredibly commonplace in Vietnam, mainly thanks to its large Buddhist population. You’ll see signs for chay restaurants, and traditional restaurants that have optional chay menus. Toto, you’re not in Texas anymore. This place is an animal-lover’s utopia.

The next time you stumble upon some blog by an angry vegetarian Westerner who had trouble meeting his or her culinary guidelines in Vietnam, just know that they were doing something wrong. Chay is everywhere.

4. The food is mind-blowingly good.

Walk up to the aluminum pots of hole-in-the-wall Thuyền Viên, and you’d never guess what your taste buds were in for. At first, it seems like a battle of might and perseverance: there’s a throng of clamoring locals at the open-air counter all vying to get attention, flies buzzing between impatient heads all vying for disregard, and the clanking of pots and dirty dishes is the land’s cacophonous, wartime battle cry.

Eventually you throw enough elbows to work your way up to those mysterious silver pots. You don’t know what’s in them, but it doesn’t matter: this crowd makes it seem like the elixir of life. When you’re finally up at bat, you point to 5 or 6 of the dishes, recognizing nothing, and get ushered to your throne: a small, red plastic stool that you swear was once part of your younger sister’s dining room play set.

Minutes later, you’re brought your feast: claypot mushrooms, butternut squash curry, and several varieties of tofu that are wondrously transformed, flavored, and covered in tangy, sweet but savory sauces, all different shades of vermillion. This is a magical section of the food pyramid the government has been hiding from you to keep you eating farm-raised grains and vegetables. This is an epiphany. With a bowl of rice and a fresh baguette to top it off, the battle was well worth the effort.

The only downside? There’s no going back. The Boca burgers in your freezer will just start their trek to the freezer burn castle in the sky, and the tofurkey, well, your neighbor’s dog might eat it if you coat it in chunky peanut butter. It isn’t just that Thuyền Viên is some sort of Southeast Asian Brigadoon, either: it’s everywhere. The fried tofu, the peppered mushrooms, the curried pineapple, the egg bánh mis, the bánh xèo, even the fruit smoothies make you feel like some middle schooler who wasn’t in on the world’s biggest secret. Ignorance may have been mental bliss, but it was a travesty to your taste buds.

5. The options are more diverse than Angie and Brad’s Christmas card.

You know that feeling you get when you walk into a restaurant, and three steps inside the door the scent of sizzling bacon and the portraits of stoic-looking cowboys lining the walls makes you let out an accidentally audible sigh? That’s the one. The menu confirms your worst fears: meat, meat, and more meat. Eating, instead of fulfilling your primal urges and firing off your dopamine receptors, is about to be relegated to a chore. There are two things to choose from on the menu and both make you ponder just munching on yesterday’s protein bar you left in your bag.

Would such a scene ever happen in ‘Nam? Nope. You do not have to stick to the chay restaurants, because you can get phở chay, bánh xèo chay, hủ tiếu chay, cà ri chay pretty much anywhere. There’s also side dishes of morning glory, mushrooms, and tofu that line any standard menu. There’s fresh fruit and made-to-order smoothies at corner markets and street-side vendors, and baguettes that’ll make you feel like Parisian royalty. French fries are a surprising staple, too, only they’re served with butter and sugar. We won’t tell if you indulge.

6. Being vegetarian is not a big deal in Vietnam.

Maybe you have that friend who always has to tout about saying, “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m vegetarian. Do you have any vegetarian modifications you can make to the menu?” Or maybe you are that vegetarian friend. Your friends have to make you special dishes when they throw a dinner party and you have to make sure to cover your own ass at potlucks. And restaurants? A crap shoot in some parts, unless you’re happy with a green salad and a piece of carrot cake. But in ‘Nam, the world is your faux tofu oyster.

You and your omnivorous friends can dine at the same places, không sao (no problem), and they may even find that they wind up craving a few of the veggie restaurants you introduce them to. Heck, maybe you’re the type of vegetarian that’s only really vegetarian on weekdays and when you’re sober, but in ‘Nam it just so happens 24/7. There are just as many options and just as many people who eat the same way you do. It’s not pretentious nor is it an inconvenience. It’s…normal.

The Facebook friends you really fear

Photo: Helga

1. Friends who constantly post about their relationship

The internet is not a place for happiness. Happiness belongs in the real world. The internet is the place where misery finds its company. If you’re constantly posting about how happy your relationship is, pretty much everyone knows that it’s not all that happy.

2. Friends who constantly post about their babies

Look: we all love kids. But by definition, a miracle is something that doesn’t happen frequently. It’s a rare an unexplainable event. UNICEF estimates that 353,000 kids are born every day, and birth is totally explainable by science. So your child is not a miracle, unless you want you set your standard for “miracle” so low that that socks and intestinal bacteria count as miracles as well. We’re happy you have a kid, but please: give your posts some variety.

3. Friends who complain about relationship and baby posts

“Oh my gawwwwd, will everyone stop getting engaged / having babies already?”

Other people are allowed to be happy. Stop it.

4. The single-issue friend

We all have our passions and issues that we favor over others. But there’s a certain type of person who hijacks every conversation and makes it about their issue. “NONE OF THIS would be a problem if we fixed education / healthcare / campaign finance reform.” Yeah, guy. The world’s that simple. You figured it out.

5. The friend who agrees with you politically, but is also a little bit racist

You’re having a political discussion with someone you disagree with, and then a friend of your chimes in to support your argument. You appreciate the support, but then they say something like, “Muslims are the most violent religion,” or “Look, I have a lot of black friends, but…”

And now the discussion is over and you need to re-evaluate literally everything you believe.

6. The yogi

The point of yoga is to become more in touch with your body and the world. You posting a picture of yourself twisted into a donut is not either of those things. It is you trying to show off. Or possibly trying to get laid.

7. The first-time-abroad traveler

We know your world just changed, and we’re happy for you. But literally everyone who has traveled before has felt what you’re feeling. This isn’t just something that you and your abroad friends understand.

8. The parent or grandparent

Yes, I occasionally drink and experiment with other chemicals. Yes, I’ve been in sexual relationships. Yes, I sometimes swear. No, I was not thinking you’d ever find out.

9. The not-your-parent

The parent-of-a-friend or your parent’s-friend-who-for-some-reason-friended-you are the most terrifying people on Facebook. Their politics are all over the board, they aren’t particularly good at sensing irony or sarcasm, and their attempts at internet speak are excruciating.

10. The multi-album traveler

Back in the early days of Facebook, you could fit about 60 pictures into a photo album. It was a good standard: most people, honestly, aren’t going to look at all 60, but that’s a good round number for your trip, and it required some cutting down. Now, Facebook albums can fit about 1000 pics, and people will still post multiple albums for each of the trips they’ve been on. And they’ll keep posting the pics for months. Please: if we wanted to see Honduras that badly, we’d go ourselves.

11. The Candy Crusher

Turn off those notifications, and stop inviting me to play. I know you don’t want to actually play with me: you just invited me because you need extra lives and are hopelessly addicted to the game.

12. The Dieter

Dieters who are changing their diet to become healthier people are fine. They’re probably not posting about their diet anyway. But dieters who are dieting for moral reasons are terrifying. Look, Paleo dieters: we understand that cavemen ate the way you eat and that this supposedly makes the food more “natural,” but do you know what else is unnatural? Electric foot massagers. Tempur-Pedic Mattresses. Air conditioning. Unnatural things are great. We don’t have the same problem with unnatural things that you do.

Dear America: If you love kids, let your schools show your affection

Photo: Pink Sherbet Photography

BAMBINA BELLISSIMA (“beautiful baby”)! Que bella (“How beautiful”)! Piccola (“Little one”)! Italians went gaga over my 7-month-old daughter during our weekend trip to Rome. Her cheeks and thighs might even be swollen from all the pinching she received from strangers. Out of all the countries I’ve ever visited—England, Estonia, Canada, Sweden, France, Greece and Russia, among others—no place showers affection on children like Italy. My wife Johanna and I were completely blown away.

But the strangest thing is that Italian schools are not so child-friendly, especially for young children. The warm affection on the streets doesn’t seem to match the policies in the schools. On Friday, I gave a presentation on life at a Finnish public school to a crowd of Italian teachers and school leaders, and I had the chance to learn just how different schools are in this Mediterranean country.

I told them about how Finnish first and second graders have about four hours of school every day, which is more like a half-day back in the United States. Not only that, but kids in Finland have a 15-minute break built into every hour of instruction (more on that later); this means that a 4-hour school day involves just three hours of classroom time for first and second graders! This is incredible news to American parents and teachers, but it’s even more amazing to Italians. I spoke with one parent who told me that her daughter, a student at a public elementary school in Bologna, does 8-hour school days (8:00 am to 4:00 pm) with barely any time for recess. Oh. My. And I used to think that a typical schedule at an American elementary school was too much for kids!

The Finnish approach of providing less academic instruction to young kids is sensible. As students in Finland grow older, they generally spend more hours at school. For example, my sixth graders are in school about six hours every day compared with the four they used to have as first and second graders. 7- and 8-year-olds thrive on shorter school days because they need lots of time for free play. Sixth graders, not as much.

When you are in school for eight hours (or even six), there is little time and energy to play afterwards. School this long can easily kill creativity, not necessarily by what happens during lessons, but by the space it takes up in the lives of young children. Research has shown that kids only start to enter a deeper level of play—where creativity and problem-solving skills develop—after 30 minutes of uninterrupted free time. If you’re a young American and Italian student, these long stretches of free play are non-existent in schools, so the only hope is that you’d have time after the school day. But that’s unlikely to happen when you’re flat-out exhausted, your homework is burning a hole in your backpack and your bedtime is just a couple of hours from when you return home.

Finns—who are typically reserved—may not be pinching and coddling babies on the street, but they’re making sure that their children are getting what they need at school. Sometimes this looks like keeping the school day short for young kids. Of course, my argument hinges on the assumption that 7- and 8-year-old Finns are spending their after-school hours engaged in free play, not structured tasks like private tutoring and organized sports (as is common practice in the United States).

In January of this year, I wanted to see how most of the first and second graders at my school were using their free time after school. I wanted to be sure that I wasn’t just thinking wishfully that Finnish kids were playing deeply after their last class. I wasn’t disappointed. For three hours, I attended their iltapäivä kerho (“afternoon club”)—a subsidized public program that enrolls 70% of the first and second graders at my school—that was exclusively play-oriented. The adult supervisors told me that they don’t even encourage the kids to complete their meager amounts of homework before they head home at 4:00 pm because they believe young children just need time to play with their friends. And that’s exactly what I saw these 7- and 8-year-olds doing: playing dress-up, building with legos, and drawing.

As I mentioned earlier, Finnish kids are entitled to take a 15-minute break for every 45 minutes of instruction. Finland takes this so seriously that it’s even guaranteed by law. While I was visiting Rome, I was told that typically Italian high school students get just 10-minutes of break every day (and they’re expected to eat during this time)! On top of this, they will spend most of the school day in just one classroom; teachers come to them. Meanwhile, kids in Finland—young and old—receive 15-minute unstructured breaks throughout the school day and they have the opportunity to slip outside for fresh air during these times, even when it’s freezing.

Obviously, these 15-minute breaks are not long enough to provide young students with time for deep play, but they’re just long enough to refocus children. So, first and second graders in Finland are putting in three hours of high-quality classroom work every morning—because they’re paced by frequent breaks—and in the afternoon, they’re playing deeply throughout the entire afternoon. That’s a pretty sweet deal for kids.

But the case of Italy still befuddles me. They clearly love children but their schools—with their long and nearly recess-less school days—do not show evidence of their affection. I feel the same way about many American public elementary schools. We say we love children (and I know, deep down, we do) and yet, we send our kids to kindergarten at the age of five and they receive full-day academic instruction. We give young children just 20 minutes or so of recess for an entire school day. We throw dozens of standardized tests at our kids, starting in third grade or even younger, narrowing their curriculum and stressing them out, along with their teachers. We require young American kids to attend school each day for nearly twice as long as young Finnish children, leaving them with little time and energy for play after school.

By providing things like frequent breaks, shorter school days, and less standardized tests, Finnish schools are not doing anything particularly innovative. This tiny Nordic country is simply making sensible decisions that support the wellbeing of all children. And when you stop to think about it, this is exactly what all school systems should be doing.

10 stunning images of Hawaii's ocean

Editor’s note: Anianikū (ani-ani-koo) Chong is a native Hawaiian living on the Big Island. He’s an explorer and a photographer, and one of his most central muses is the ocean. This piece explores the role the ocean plays in the lives of Hawaiians.




1

The Pacific

We watch the sun rise and set on it each day; it watches all our comings and goings. We drive to work alongside it, to our families, into the city, to the surf, and back again. It's around every corner; it's the view from each peak. It is a constant in the life of a Hawaiian, as constant as breathing. For those of us born here, we encounter the ocean often within our first year and it becomes a part of us; it's under our skin, it's in our blood. The ocean is practically part of our family, ever-present in our childhoods, our youths, each day of our lives.

2

The Consumption

Hawaiians literally allow the ocean to consume us. There is safety and comfort there, though we know there are dangers that are at hand. This comfort is due in part to the fact that our ancestors have lived off of the ocean for thousands of years in a hundred different ways. The ocean has sustained our people since we first left Tahiti and the Society Islands, and her wares have graced our dining tables for just as long, and still do. We fish, we spearfish, we trap, we net, we hunt — and then we eat. Fish and seafood has been our diet longer than history can record, from caught fish, to traditional poke, to fish tacos (whether you swear by Pat's, Pupukea, Sweet Home Waimanalo, or the dozens of others), she has fed us well. Thus, there is comfort in being surrounded by her, knowing all she has given, and still gives, to us.

3

The Underworld

There is another Hawaii — in fact, there are many faces of Hawaii — but one of our favorites exists under the surface. Consumed by the warm and clear Pacific, we can see life in a different light. We can see the rhythm of nature in the flurry of a thousand fish, or occasionally in the sombre silence of one single predator. We watch light dance, witness the movements of the waves from below, see the feet of surfers, listen to the dull roar of a passing boat. Life, from the other side.

Intermission


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15 signs you were born and raised in Monterrey
by Iliana Garcia



13
11 places to swim with whale sharks [PICS]
by Keph Senett




On surviving a shark attack and coming back stronger than ever
by Reid Levin













4

The Wild

There is much that we don't hunt but revere and respect. There is a recognition that we are not alone on in this place, but we are simply being allowed to share it, to borrow it. Koholā (humpback whale), manō (tiger shark), nai'a (dolphin), honu (green sea turtle) are among the life we find under the surface. Surfers, snorkelers, scuba divers, free divers, fishermen, and all of us who enter the ocean here do not confuse respect with fear, but rather keep distances, when necessary, fueled mostly a deep and humble appreciation for the ocean's power, and its inhabitants.

5

The Halfway

It's another place we love to be, we Hawaiians. Body in the ocean, floating, supported, warm and weightless, but face to the sky. To see and experience both sides at once. The roll of the waves, the deep green of the hills, the sheer and sharp drops of the cliffs, the deep blue below, the community together in the surf — it's the perfect place to be. It feels like home.

6

The Crest

As Inuit have many words for types of snow, Hawaiians have words for types of waves: nalu is an ocean wave; nalu haʻi is a breaking wave; nalu kua loloa is a long wave; nalu haʻi lala breaks diagonally, and so forth. We are content to simply watch the waves, but we are happiest in them. Even those that don't surf with boards but with bodies, or simply paddle along, the rhythm of the ocean rolling under us is something we long for.

7

The Ride

For those that do surf, the ride is almost unmatched by any other experience in life. Even those who don't surf feel a connection to it because surfing has been a part of our world since before we even arrived to these islands. From royalty to the common people, cave paintings to oral histories, we know that surfing has been part of our culture since we arrived here; we feel it in our veins. It's not just about ancestral bloodlines — nearly all of us are a mix and many are not ethically Hawaiian but are born and raised here; it's about toes in the sand, the wind and waves, that sense that roots are growing out from under your feet and into this place — and that its roots are growing into you. We feel that as we carve down the face of a nalu ha'i: we feel harmony with the ocean; we feel humbled by its raw power; we feel reverence for the animals and the world within it; we feel grateful. In the earliest days of Hawaii, there would be a sacrifice and a ceremony at the tree that was about to give us a board.

8

The Shore

Second to being in the water is watching the water. For most of us, the workday begins or ends with a trip to the shore. The ocean brings us a calmness and a peace, a true lift of the spirit. We rise early to greet the day (and catch waves before work), and we stay late. To begin or unwind a day, to receive and to let go. To fish, to watch the surf, to sit. To watch the sun rise and set again. To sink our feet into the sand and reconnect. To come home.

9

The Rage

While many picture the Hawaii of postcards — baby blue sky and white sand — we who live here see all sides of her. For many of us, it's not the picture perfect days that impress us, it's watching the ocean and sky rage against each other, set against the dramatic backdrop of our cliffs and valleys. It is humbling — it reminds us that we are small, and we are lucky to be here.

10

The Setting

The sun dips. The colors arrive. This is our escape and our arrival. Not only do we love to watch the sun set, but the ocean is literally a setting for our lives. We grow up here, our past and future are here, our days and weekends and mornings and evenings take place here, our friends and our roots are here. There is no other place we long to be.

Why bartenders are the greatest people to go out with

Photo: CEBImageryl

GOING OUT with a bartender has its upsides, for sure. Believe it or not, we don’t all fit the stigma of ‘players’ or ‘party girls’. Let’s clear up some negative misconceptions and discuss why us bartenders are the greatest people to go out with, shall we?

1. We know when and where the hottest parties and restaurants in the city are.

2. At these parties and restaurants we never wait in line or pay cover.

3. We are on the receiving end of a lot of empty lip service and drunken flirtations at work, therefore we appreciate relationships of substance at home.

4. Intoxicated patrons are not appealing, so we don’t find it difficult to stay loyal (believe it or not).

5. We can get you free drinks AND free cover.

6. We know all the best places for late night eats.

7. Bartending gives us enough time to go to school or work an entry level job and not have to stress about money.

8. Because we are always working when everyone else is partying, we stay out of trouble and save our money.

9. We have a flexible schedule. Tuesday matinee date? Done.

10. We have mastered small talk and know how to charm all types of people. Your parents will love us.

11. We have the best stories about celebrity encounters and crazy customers.

12. We know our liquor products, therefore we can recommend the best whiskeys or wines on the menu for you.

13. We always have cash on us.

14. We’ve seen it all and are able to keep our cool in the most ridiculous circumstances.

15. We are the hardest workers you know.

16. We are attracted to confident people who can handle us flirting with customers because they understand it’s part of our job. (Dating a bartender isn’t for the insecure.)

17. We treat others in the service industry with respect and will always tip well.

18. We often have dreams beyond bartending. Just look at former bartenders Mark Cuban, Sandra Bullock, and Bruce Willis who all poured drinks as they pursued their careers. Many other bartenders open their own establishments. Even if bartending isn’t our dream job, it’s an honest living.

19. There’s no shortage of having nights to yourself or with your pals because we are stuck working.

20. It’s not weird for you to swing by our work. Just don’t get too drunk.

21. We are so used to taking care of guests that we are very appreciative when someone wants to buy us a drink – other than at our bar.

What NOT to do in Prague

Photo: Jirka Matousek

Here are 6 steps to avoiding tourist traps, shady drug dealers, and overpriced bagels in Prague:

1. STOP going to Lucerna Music Bar.

Most of the Czechs I know try to avoid Lucerna’s overpriced bar and tourist-infested dance floor. Expats.cz said it was convenient to Wenceslas Square, but it took me almost four months to find the front door.

Instead, go to Futurum.

“We’re going to go dancing at Futurum tonight!” my friend Lenka told me one day after class. Based on her enthusiasm, I concluded that Futurum is where locals go for a crazy night out.

While singing along to Aqua’s “Barbie Girl” (“I’m impressed you know all the words!” said Lenka), I witnessed some dude groping a woman under her shirt. She didn’t seem to mind the PDA. They just kept dancing. Because that’s the kind of place Futurum is.

2. STOP going to Cross Club.

You know that spot in your town “everybody” goes to that seems cool at first, but really isn’t that cool, and after a while you realize that the kind of people who go there are people you don’t really like? Cross Club is that place.

Tourists flock here, hoping to buy drugs from the shady dealers hanging around the bathrooms, and while the live music is a nice touch, moshing with NYU students all night gets old.

Instead, go to Radost FX.

I’ve eaten vegetarian food, sipped on cappuccinos, rifled through used CDs, and partied my ass off in an underground club — all within the same building at Radost FX. I discovered this cafe / vegetarian restaurant / second-hand record shop / discotheque while getting lost in my neighborhood, Vinohrady.

I don’t even mind when tourists show up, because Radost’s multiple venues make it easy to avoid them.

3. STOP shopping on Wenceslas Square.

Václavské náměstí is an important Czech historic site, but none of the retail shop brands lining the boulevard are Czech. I thought I would, at least, score some deals due to the country’s low exchange rate, but in doing the math, a pair of sneakers found at my local mall cost almost twice as much in Prague.

Instead, shop off the beaten path.

Prague’s Old Town Square. Photo: Florin Draghici

One-of-a-kind pieces from some of Prague’s own designers cost me pennies — all found while strolling down alleyways and taking side streets off the main tourist areas.

Le Boheme is my favorite find, a funky little shop near Old Town Square where, after being fitted for a custom blazer, I watched owner Renáta Vokáčová construct new designs in the back of her shop. Even one of the city’s most famous designers, Helena Fejková, offers couture fashion for considerably less than any other designer I’ve ever met.

4. STOP going to Bohemia Bagel.

I thought bagels were an Eastern European thing, and that I’d be swimming in them in Prague, but that hasn’t been the case. Stopping by this expat joint one day, I wasn’t impressed by the nearly $2 poppy seed bagel with cream cheese. I didn’t come to Prague to eat Caesar salads, Philly cheese steaks, and brownies anyway.

Instead, go to Cafe Savoy.

Photo: Estefanía Trisotti

Located near my favorite bridge, Most Legií, Cafe Savoy’s interior has been restored to its turn-of-the-century architectural glory. I’ve traded Bohemia Bagel’s free wifi and takeaway coffee cups for Savoy’s decadent plates of food, pâtisseries, and creamy café au lait.

5. STOP going to Starbucks.

Seriously. Stop it. The flagship location replaced Café Radetzky, a 135-year-old teahouse Franz Kafka used to frequent, so a little bit of Czech history died with your latte.

Instead, go to Krásný Ztráty.

Krásný’s cafe drinks and snacks are satisfying after a day spent studying next to Václav Havel. No joke, I was writing a paper in Krásný’s quiet back room, the former president and playwright sitting adjacent to me with a cup of coffee and a newspaper.

It’s pretty easy to meet famous Czech people if you go to the places Czechs like to hang out. Perhaps you’ll get lucky and spot the current President of the Czech Republic, Miloš Zeman, with a milkshake and a comic book.

6. STOP going to Charles Bridge during the day.

Charles Bridge isn’t that long of a bridge, but it takes over an hour to cross during the day because of the crowds. I made the mistake of using it on one of my first days in Prague, and felt like a calf in a herd of tourists.

Instead, go in the early morning or late evening.

Photo: Roman Boed

The crowds thin out between 11PM and 7AM. Crossing the bridge off-hours makes it easy to stop and rub all the good-luck statues. The brick walkway is particularly nice for a stroll after a night of drinking.

This article was originally published on July 3rd, 2012.

Top 10 surf spots for in Hawaii

Photo by Scott Schiller

HAWAII IS THE MOST geographically isolated landmass on the planet, and for some that means only one thing: groundswell.

Everywhere, in every direction, the currents of the Pacific are churning up the winds, storms, and fetch that ultimately source these islands with their world class waves. Below is a list of the best places to get wet if you have never been to Hawaii.

To be sure, there are far better waves than those listed below, but they are unlistable for various reasons. Take Kauai, for instance; there is nothing more to hide – the world already knows what waves exist, just look at a map, but why then is any photo of Kauai’s best wave still flipped, and never named, when it’s printed in any surf mag?

Because respect is a crucial element of the Hawaiian surfing experience; and with reason – the island juice is no myth; ocean conditions here are worlds away from your local beach break.

But still, come surf, it’s Hawaii, the Duke would have wanted you to. For the full rundown of breaks, grab “Frank’s Map” at any surf shop. In no particular order….

Photo by Romain Guy

Ehukai Beach Park (North Shore, Oahu)

Straight out from the parking lot of the same name, are several shifting peaks that work on everything from a west to a windswell wrap from the east. Sandy bottom is scattered with random fingers of rock. Generally a good place to come if you are beyond a beginner, but still getting used to things.

Great place to get the feel of Oahu’s North Shore. Pipeline is immediately to the left, and when it’s big enough, it essentially swallows all the peaks of the beach park. Come here to watch Pipe or sight Tom Curren; across from Sunset Beach Elementary.

Laniakea (North Shore, Oahu)

On a big north, Lani’s is a freight train right that can connect for an extremely long, fast ride, with four or five makeable sections. Deep water wave, but still barrels with the right conditions. Very consistent with any swell that has a bit of north in it; doesn’t work at all on pure west swells.

Good place if you’re looking to blend in – the “town” crowd from Honolulu loves this wave, and thus there are always different faces in the water. There is a shorter, hollow left as well, that can be very fun. Seen in the big opening along Kam Hwy as you head east from Hale’iwa. Caution: parking lot thieves run amuck.

Photo by Kanaka Menehune

Backyards (North Shore, Oahu)

The first time I surfed ‘Yards it went from a playful head high to a widow-making triple-overhead in 40 minutes, and I had to paddle out and around the entire point in a heap of anxiety to get in, so take note.

Very fast, advanced wave with a steep wall, thick lip, and shallow reef below. Good barrels. Swell magnet from all directions, but works best on a NW swell. Can get very, very big, and often has less of a crowd than other spots. Further out on the point from Sunset. Access from the shallows at the tip of the point.

Caution: reef, clean up sets.

Sunset (North Shore, Oahu)

Sunset is one of the most fabled right hand points there is, and thus attracts many a soul the world over. In that sense, you can surf it without worry (crowd-wise) if you let your hyper-paddling habits subside. Surely not a wave to be taken lightly though, even at a playful three feet Hawaiian. The wave turns very fast and hollow as it emerges and walls up quick from deep water; famous inside bowl throws way out for a good, heavy barrel.

You need some length and paddling strength in your board here; very thick wave and can be difficult to get into. Prepare yourself to get washed and bashed around on the reef when you see that rogue set swing wide from the west; you’ll certainly be caught inside.

Caution: shallow reef, heavy lip, clean-up sets.

Photo by Kanaka Menehune

Hookipa (Paia, Maui)

Between Haiku and Paia is Maui’s most consistent wave, or waves, and it happens to double as one of the best windsurfing spots in the world. All the various peaks can be seen from the bluff along the Hana Hwy heading east from Paia. The most hierarchical spot is Pavillions, the right that comes off the far east point; otherwise, there is much range of skill found in the lineups of the other peaks; still, keep respect.

Catches everything from the big WNW’s to the easterly windswells. Very exposed to the wind, so get up early before the wind does, and then hit it again late in the afternoon; with Kona winds, you score! Park in the parking lot below the bluff, and follow someone else into the water (and out).

Honolua (North Shore, Maui)

Honolua is one of the magical waves of the world, a flawless right point that seems to peel into infinity – when you happen to catch one. The crowd here is dense, but the joy of one ride makes it all worth it, especially that crisp barrel through the cave section.

Somewhat sheltered from the islands to the north, the swell window here is smaller than most other spots, and thus it works much less often; best on a big NNW swell. The trades that plague most of the rest of Maui, work fine here, to make a consistent side-offshore breeze. Again, when you connect one, the wave is simply magical.

Park on the bluff above, follow someone out.

Photo by Daniel Ramirez

Velzyland (North Shore, Oahu)

Everything considered, VLand is probably the most risky inclusion on this list. Shallow, extra sharp reef, a heavily localized pack, and a barrel that seems to suck dry, make for a serious North Shore experience. Respect here (for everything) is vital.

This marks the end of the “seven mile miracle,” the opposite end being Haleiwa’s Ali’i Beach Park. Park along Kam Hwy, and walk through the gate at Sunset Beach Colony. Paddle out from directly in front of the peak. The wide open barrel is unreal, but caution: sharp reef, shallow, crowd factor, locals.

Hanalei (North Shore, Kauai)

This is maybe the only wave on Kauai that you are allowed to mention in a public arena. Lucky for us, it’s a great wave, a peeling right point that works on most winter swell directions. Good fun when it’s smaller to grab a longboard and go make friends in the lineup – then you might find out about those other waves around the way. The bay here is pristine, and so is the town by the same name. On the far north east side of the point, towards the Princeville. Can get very big, and very good.

Canoes (South Shore, Oahu)

This is the jumping off point for the Waikiki surf adventure, and the rest of the south shore as well. Every surfer must come at least once, and there are few waves as friendly to teach your new ladyfriend. While generally a friendly wave, this whole shore turns on several times a summer, firing off exceptional waves. Those roadbumps beneath your board are not coral heads – they’re either the innocently ignorant Japanese tourists, or the equally benign, pasty-white Oklahomans.

On the south shore you can surf fifteen different spots in a single session, so paddle around and explore – that’s what the Duke did. Straight out, fittingly, from the Duke Kahanamoku statue in Waikiki. For more juice on this side of the island, seek Bowls, Kaisers, or the wave in between the two, aptly named Inbetweens. Looking out towards Diamond Head, imagine the Hawaiian legend of the wave the Duke caught way out on the point and connected all the way to the sand, right where you get your favorite mai-tai – the restaurant by the name of Duke’s.

This article was originally published on November 20, 2007.

How to impress your girlfriend while traveling

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DESPITE being thousands of miles away, MatadorU student, Tom Boyden, was determined to show his affection for his girlfriend during his seven week trip through Africa and Europe.

“I had never done the long distance thing and I’m not the biggest fan of Skype, so I decided to communicate with Natalie in as many ways as I could fit into my crazy trip through 6 countries. I was traveling solo and filmed all of it on a tripod. Sometimes the footage didn’t always work out as planned…When she saw it on her birthday she had no idea I had been making it. She was pretty ecstatic when I talked to her on the phone.”

“I loved the responses I got from folks after I’d tell them the idea of it. Apparently, I’m a romantic.”