Matador Network's Blog, page 2203

The moment this city became my home

Photo: 719jin

I ARRIVED IN CHICAGO IN OCTOBER 2003, completely heartbroken. My relationship of 10 years had just ended, which had a lot to do with my insatiable need to see more of the world than the small town we’d been living in. Sure, we hadn’t tied the knot, but it had that feeling of permanence — the one that makes your stomach sink. I left on a Wednesday. Once I finally stopped using my lunch breaks to weep uncontrollably in the park outside my office, I realized I couldn’t have been happier.

My first apartment in the city was a huge studio in Ravenswood on the North Side. Being far from downtown and in a quiet residential area of the city, I figured it would be a safe spot for a single girl and her dog. I was wrong. It was the only place in Chicago that I ever got broken into (and I would live and work in some pretty rough areas of town in the years to come). I had been hired by a big hotel corporation, so not only was I finally moving to the city I loved, I had my first high-profile design job.

I took the Brown Line downtown. Every morning on the El was a combination of thrill in the new, disgust in my fellow man, frustration in my choice of footwear, and plain excitement to finally have a Chicago address. My stop was Washington and Wells, smack dab in the hubbub of morning commuters. It was the stop right before mine, though, that always caught my attention.

Merchandise Mart was a scene of stylish creatives and design studio reps. Every day I would watch men and woman, clutching giant portfolios and leather notebooks, make their way off the train. The women had smartly cropped silver hair and horn-rimmed glasses. The men wore perfectly distressed jeans and shoes that cost more than my rent. I loved every second of it.

I immediately signed up for classes at an interior design school. Being just down the street from Merchandise Mart, I knew it’d take advantage of the incredible resources the Mart offered. Classes were after work and often left me downtown late and completely exhausted as I boarded the train. On occasion I’d need to walk over to Merchandise Mart for research, and catch the El there for home.

Downtown is deserted by 7pm, so on these occasions I found myself completely alone. One warm October night, waiting for the northbound train on the raised MM platform, my mind drifted…how did I get so far off my original path? Was I right to have left? And why did I choose to live so far north?

As I sat there, it hit me how long I’d been waiting. I wandered down the wooden walkway overlooking the river. The city was still and strangely quiet, glowing with the warmth of city lights. I was overcome with the peace of it all — peace at what was before me, peace at being there, peace in my choice to leave what wasn’t right.

As I stood in silence, I was surprised to see the slow rise of each of the river’s street bridges — something that doesn’t happen often, especially in October. It was the first time I’d ever seen them rise, and I leaned over the rusted railing to gaze further down the water. In a moment, the silence was broken by the chop of helicopter blades whizzing past me down the river. It was there, and then it was gone. I almost thought I’d imagined the whole thing, although later I heard they’d been filming a movie on the river that night.

It was again quiet. I laughed. The glow of the buildings across the water seemed to permeate my skin, and I became sure that Chicago was my home. That platform would forever be my favorite spot in the city — the spot that defined this new certainty. I’d find myself wandering in that direction after work, even though it was completely out of the way. I’d take the train there early in the morning on weekends, to have a bagel and watch the river when it was abandoned by the mass of commuters.

It was one of those mornings, at my favorite breakfast spot, that I snapped a photo.

The NYC tourists don't see

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NEW YORKERS NEVER HAVE ENOUGH TIME for anything, so I can’t imagine visitors really get the most out of even a week-long trip to Manhattan. There’s just too much to see and do, not to mention all of the general chaos that comes with being a part of NYC. This video by Menzkie might have annoying music (and a few sci-fy elements), but it shows 99 sides of New York most tourists don’t even know exist. It focuses on NYC’s incredible architecture, depth of diversity, and ever-changing urbanism, all of which make this city the crazy place it is.

10 things to do in New Orleans

Photo: “El Gabo” – Davide Gabino

1. Get up close to the area where the levees broke.

2005’s Hurricane Katrina wasn’t just a natural disaster, it was a manmade one. While the storm brought incredible amounts of rain and wind, it was a crack in the levees that flooded areas of the city such as the Lower Ninth Ward.

A bike ride through this area gives you an up-close perspective on the devastation, as well as the efforts to rebuild. You’ll see student volunteers making repairs and the Brad Pitt-sponsored Make It Right homes, and you’ll likely get to chat with the residents who loved their community enough to return. At the same time, a leisurely bike ride will also show you the damaged roads and abandoned homes that are a constant reminder of Katrina’s wrath. It’s both an inspiring and sobering experience.

2. After your bike ride, have lunch at Café Dauphine.

There’s a lot of great food in New Orleans, but Café Dauphine is unique because it’s one of the few businesses thriving in the Lower Ninth Ward, which was completely devastated after Hurricane Katrina. The owners are dedicated to providing a dining option for the community, creating jobs, and fostering community pride. The menu features Southern comfort cuisine with some interesting twists. Try the deep-fried bell pepper, stuffed with crabmeat and shrimp.

3. Join a second line.

Second lines are traditional parades in which a brass band leads a group of participants down city streets. People dance or walk with a lot of attitude and rhythm, and it’s common to see colorful suits and twirling parasols. Second lines are typically Sunday affairs, and the neighborhood participates by standing on their porches and cheering, or joining in as the parade weaves its way around the community.

Local radio station WWOZ publishes a detailed list of upcoming second lines, and check out this etiquette list to make sure you participate respectfully. You can also practice first, at a second line dance class with local dance celebrity Dancing Man 504.

4. Do Sunday church in style.

Check out St. Augustine’s Church in the Treme. They have a jazz mass at 10am on Sundays, where you’ll see the neighborhood’s long-time African-American residents rubbing shoulders with hipster newcomers while you worship to some of the best church music around. The area the church is in, which was featured in the HBO show Treme, is the oldest African-American neighborhood in the United States, where free people of color first gained the right to own property.

5. Get to know the African-American side of Mardi Gras.

Historically, Mardi Gras parades excluded non-whites, so people in black neighborhoods such as the Treme held alternative celebrations. They developed a tradition of dressing up or “masking” as American Indians as a way of paying respect for their assistance in escaping slavery. Today, the Mardi Gras Indians make their own elaborate costumes, which are paraded starting on St. Joseph’s Day. Different tribes face off with each other to determine which chief is the “prettiest.”

At the Backstreet Cultural Museum in the Treme, you can see the 100-plus-pound costumes and hear stories about this unique aspect of African-American culture.

6. Hang out with the hipsters.

Hipsters come to New Orleans for the music, the historical homes, the entrepreneurial opportunities, and the relatively cheap standard of living. They’re revitalizing parts of the city with new bars, restaurants, art galleries, and cafes.

What exactly is a hipster, and is their influence positive or negative? Those are debates you could spend hours having with those born and raised in New Orleans. In any case, if you want to commune with the skinny jean, old-fashioned hat, vintage T-wearing crowd, head out to the Marigny and Bywater areas. Mimi’s, Euclid’s Records, Orange Couch Café, Frenchman Art Market, Piety Street Market — all are hipster approved.

7. Head out to the “Far East” for the best bread in town.

New Orleans East is home to a vibrant and growing Vietnamese-American community. Many of the first generation came as fishermen, working down in the bayous. The community is largely Catholic and you can find tons of Asian restaurants, grocery stores, and services around the Mary Queen of Vietnam church, which is their spiritual and practical hub. This area was heavily damaged after Hurricane Katrina, and the Vietnamese are known to have been among the first to return and rebuild.

Locals from all backgrounds swear that some of the best bread in the city is made by the Vietnamese. Buy yours right out of the oven at Dong Phuong Bakery. Or try a Vietnamese-style po-boy (otherwise known as bánh mì) made to order. Keep on going east to hit the bayou communities, and see how high the houses are being built in order to survive future floods.

8. Have a stuffed plantain in Little Honduras.

Kenner, which is just west of central New Orleans, has the highest population of Hondurans living outside of Honduras. The Hispanic population of this area, including other Central Americans, Mexicans, and Brazilians, has grown to 22%, a huge increase over the last decade. Drive down Williams Boulevard and you can visit Hispanic grocery stores, restaurants, doctors, tax preparers, and banks. Try Mi Pueblito’s on Florida Avenue for traditional stuffed plantains, pastelitos, and yucca.

9. Volunteer at an urban farm.

Hurricane Katrina left behind a lot of ruined homes that stayed abandoned and, over time, became blighted areas. Urban farms and community gardens are popping up in areas that were hit hardest and are economically challenged. They make use of areas that were once an eyesore, growing food for neighborhoods that might otherwise have limited access to fresh produce. Some provide herbs and vegetables to the biggest-name restaurants in town. These gardens are bringing a renewed sense of pride to communities that have struggled to rebound.

10. See where the musicians live.

After Hurricane Katrina, New Orleans natives Harry Connick, Jr. and Branford Marsalis wanted to establish a community for displaced musicians, making sure they didn’t abandon the city due to economic hardship. Their vision was to provide a home for the artists and their music that has defined the city’s culture. In partnership with Habitat for Humanity, they started the Musician’s Village, which provides affordable housing near the recently-built Elis Marsalis Center for Music.

As you stroll through this area in the Upper Ninth Ward, you’ll see examples of vibrantly painted houses that reflect the traditional shotgun style. If you’re lucky, you may walk into an impromptu jam session on somebody’s front porch.

Drug culture in our national parks

Photo: Beau Rogers

BY MIDNIGHT, the desert moon began to come up and the drugs had started to come down. A desaturated Bifröst still swam across the sky above me, and my nerves still fired wildly at every tactile sensation, but whatever locus in my mind controlled my sanity was beginning to fight back. Things had continuity again — the Joshua trees flecking the silver expanse of sand, the giant boulders we had spent the daylight hours climbing. There were other shapes on them now, other people staying at the campsite next to ours. Through the still, dry air I could hear their every word.

“I’m fucked dude, how do we get down?”

“It’s just a little drop. Just jump it.”

“I can’t even tell how far away my hands are anymore. Everything’s moving around too much. I’m gonna die if I jump. Can you come up here?”

Heh. I grinned stupidly, reassured in my lifestyle, my choices. I hadn’t expected to find other people altering their consciousness way out here, hours from the nearest city light. But I couldn’t say I was surprised.

The shrooms were easy enough to come by in the city, but when it comes to tripping out, setting is important. And there’s no place more conducive than national parks like Joshua Tree. When the US Congress established Yellowstone National Park, in 1872, the Sheepeater and Shoshone tribes native to the area had already been using plants and mushrooms for psychedelic and spiritual guidance for thousands of years. Now, in a modern world that demonizes drug culture, national parks have given that culture a canvas on which it can thrive.

The exploration of the brain is an evolutionary right. Chimpanzees have been observed actively saving fruit until it ferments, and caribou seek out psychedelic amanita mushrooms before presumably hallucinating that they’re Santa’s flying reindeer. Even dolphins have figured out how to pass around a puffer fish, the toxins causing them to flip around more than usual. We follow in their tracks any way we can, creating new and more technologically advanced chemicals to bring us back to the Stone Age.

Yellowstone, and the idea of national parks in general, was created after several expeditions to the area convinced the US government that such rugged beauty needed to be preserved. And not just for beauty’s sake. It sends a message, segmenting and isolating the world like that. It says that within those borders is a sanctuary not only for the animals and plants already there, but for anybody still trying to maintain that most basic connection to their biological heritage in a time when it seems to mean less and less to the sober mind. As the bill to create Yellowstone called it, national parks are meant to be a “pleasuring ground for the benefit and enjoyment of the people.”

People got the message.

Today there are 401 “units” in America’s National Park System, covering 1,006,619 square miles — all federally protected land. Over 100 other countries have followed suit with thousands of parks of their own. The US National Park Service records 280 million visits each year (as of 2011). There are only 314 million people in the country.

That much land, that many people — it’s difficult to police. The federal government only employs 3,861 park rangers and 580 park police. Let’s plug that into some grade-school arithmetic, yeah? Under ideal circumstances, with zero overlap, each officer is responsible for the safety and security in an area greater than 226 square miles. Each. According to the Chief of Law Enforcement for the National Park Service, 2013 saw 11,120 arrests in total.

Of those, 2,184 arrests were for possession of drugs, and 5,058 possession violation notices were written. 7,241 police actions in total. For 280,000,000 visitors in a year.

And these figures aren’t an even spread — Yosemite, which sees 3 million visitors each year crammed into a 7-square-mile visitors area, saw on average 800 arrests per year, while our old friend Yellowstone only saw 166. The boys in blue have never busted a single person with ballooned pupils in Death Valley, and Joshua Tree, that legendary venue for trippin’ the life fantastic, a mere two hours outside Los Angeles, only had 89 drug charges over a three-year period1.

There are over 100 DUI arrests per day in Los Angeles County alone.

This is, of course, assuming a perfect, and therefore slightly tyrannical, enforcement of those laws. However, parks aren’t cities, and policing them is less about protecting the fabric of society and more about simply upholding their pristine nature.

One urban parks officer from Los Angeles, who preferred not to be named, noted, “After close to ten years in the field, I’d say it all depends on the drug. Pot or shrooms are a verbal warning to take it out of the public areas, but it varies from situation to situation. I see it the same as alcohol — now if we have guys who just flat out don’t care about what we say, then we take it up a notch. Confiscate, cite, detain, call up the PD to handle it if the situation warrants it.”

But even then, the demographic of those escalations aren’t aligned with the teenage kid who just wants to look at the stars. “Heavier stuff like meth, coke, hell, steroids are worst in my experience. We have to be super careful to handle things and it jumps up on our priority / response list. I’ve had guys on a roid rage trip that almost got me seriously screwed up. Heavy stuff is never fun. Especially alone and encountering it at night.”

The astronomically small odds of getting caught have definitely turned parks into the choice destination for getting messed up. But it’s more than a need to stay out of prison, it’s the sanctuary of seeking guidance from the mind opened to nature, the same thing aboriginal inhabitants used them for ages ago.

Joshua Tree is the most visible example, the desolate beauty of the desert elevated to a mythic recognition. The warm moonlight of the desert creates winds that whip through the trees, carrying wash sands and coyote screams to the lonely. It’s an image that can — and does — capture anybody that bears witness. U2’s album took the name of the park after Bono had an epiphany on the desert of the modern human spirit. Entourage took the less subtle approach, having its characters use the distraction-less desert to choose the future of their careers, and thus screaming through a megaphone the unspoken truth that never needed to be said.

And then, of course, there was Gram Parsons.

Back in 1973, country musician Gram Parsons swirled the drain of heroin addiction before finally plunging unceremoniously down the hole via overdose. In those final years, Parsons spent his free time in Joshua Tree National Park, the majesty of the desert having tapped into something primordially intact deep within his gently cracking psyche, allowing him some measure of peace. And though his family wanted him buried in his native Louisiana, those close to him knew where he should really be laid to rest. Unencumbered by sobriety, they managed to steal his body from LAX and hightail it to Joshua Tree, where they cremated him in a giant fireball before making their escape. His final days would be tied to the park forever.

The black smoke of Parson’s pyre floats through time in both directions, staining rock walls and virgin forests as a constant reminder of the inexorable bond between those of altered mind and the great outdoors. His fascination with nature, even as his brain took on new and grotesque thoughts, was only one romantic instance. It wasn’t the first. It wasn’t — there will never be — the last.

I thought about Gram Parsons a lot as I lay in my sleeping bag in the sand. About Entourage. About U2. About the guy squatting on a boulder in front of me, five feet off the ground, trying so desperately to decipher the physics that would allow him to come down. The air was warmer now and all the stars were out, lighting up the world like a million tiny holes in the fabric of the universe. I threw off my blanket and climbed to my feet again.

It was time to go exploring.

________

1All statistics courtesy of Ms. Charis Wilson, National Park Service FOIA Officer

Jared Scharff’s Tokyo food tour

I FIRST ENCOUNTERED TOKYO during a 10-hour layover at Narita in 2011, when I tacked on an extra four hours (round trip) of travel time and took the Shinkansen bullet train into the heart of the city. Those few hours in Tokyo may have been the most exhilarating of my life. I was enamored, and decided to go back a week later to properly experience it while on a two-week hiatus from Saturday Night Live.

These first two trips started my love affair with the city and its culinary landscape. This is where I learned about ramen. I ate the noodles as often as I could, and my life has never been the same since.

Years have passed, bowls have been slurped from, and my affinity for Japan has only grown. I needed to get back, but I wanted to go deeper. The next level. So this time around I met up with some seriously amazing locals to help tap into the real Tokyo. The non-touristy Tokyo. The insider’s guide. Armed with famous Tokyo ramen bloggers, fixers, local musicians, and friends, I found it. Here are some of my favorite experiences.

Fuunji

Fuunji

Recommended by Brian, one of the ramen blogger masters in Tokyo, Fuunji is known for its tsukeman (dipping noodles). It’s a personal favorite of mine for the overall ramen experience. There’s one super huge ramen bar where every seat gets filled during service, a vending-machine ordering system, a superstar ramen master, businessmen rolling in by the dozen every minute and slamming their bowls down within five minutes. In the time it took me to finish my one bowl, three men had come and gone in the seat next to mine. Fuunji is the real deal.

Shimokitazawa

Shimokitazawa

Tons of shopping, specialty stores, incredible restaurants, and a 20-to-30-something hipster culture. The vibe is way more mellow than Shibuya / Shinjuku but still very vibrant. It’s the Williamsburg of Tokyo. Spend a few hours roaming the streets during the day, and at night settle down at one of the city’s most interesting bars, like “Mother Shimokitazawa / Mother Ruins,” “Flowerbar Gardena,” or Izakaya “Shirubei.” Shimokitazawa is also a popular spot for yakiniku (barbecue) dining.

Goodbeer Faucets

Reminiscent of a sports bar, except they have dozens of craft beers from around the world. Start your night off trying some Japanese microbrews.

Ganko

Ganko Shio Ramen

Located in Takadanobaba, this was the most unique ramen experience I had while in Tokyo. The outside of the shop is covered in a black tarp with a large Fred Flintstone-style animal bone hanging in front of it. There’s one ramen master in a tiny 3-4 seat room, and he doesn’t speak much English. Apparently, he closes his store for the day if the broth isn’t perfect. He offers up green chiles to add to his soups, as well as a shrimp oil option. I went with the standard shio (salt). Eating here is definitely an adventure.

Bunny Ramen

Best gyoza in Shibuya. English menu available. Tourist friendly but still a bit off the beaten path, tucked away in an area where the love hotels are.

Nonbei Yokocho

Nombei Yokocho

Literally meaning “Drunken Alley,” Nonbei Yokocho is where you escape the tourist traps of Shibuya and Shinjuku to get your drink on. Having a local guide is ideal, but even without one you’ll stumble into some amazing tiny bars and restaurants.

O’Shima

O’Shima serves arguably the most expensive steak in the world (around $150 US) — this is a splurge destination. I was taken there by the man known as “Tokyo Fixer,” who swore this was the place to head. I still dream about this steak. The cows they use must live the ultimate posh life and be the happiest cows on Earth.

The basement of any department store

One of my favorite things to do in Japan is head down to any department store basement and purchase all kinds of goodies. The staff make and sell nearly every type of Japanese cuisine. Don’t neglect the produce section, if only just to witness the selling of a $300 mango and an $8 dollar strawberry. If you’re taking any bullet trains or long trips, stop at one of these department stores and grab some food for the road. Isetan Department Store is possibly the best place to head.

Sushi Yasuda

Among all the the ritzy Michelin-star sushi joints, you might not hear about Sushi Yasuda. However, those in the know say it’s the “best bang for your buck.” Yasuda left his famous NYC Midtown restaurant to open this eight-seater sushi joint in Tokyo a few years ago. He goes to the fish market every day, does all his own prep, cooking, and sushi-making by himself. It’s just him and his wife who run the restaurant. He loves to talk about every piece of fish you put in your mouth, where it’s from, and the differences between US and Japanese fish. You’re witnessing a true sushi master finally get to live his dream.

Standing Sushi Bar (Shibuya)

On the other side of the coin, this “blink and you’ll miss it” sushi bar serves up good-quality fish at an incredibly budget-friendly price. Equally awesome are the hot water faucets at each station, complete with green tea powder so you can make your own. Tourist friendly…mostly (point to the fish in front of you, and you shall receive).

Welcome to the Coral Triangle

JAMES MORGAN is a multi-award-winning photographer and filmmaker who has worked in more than 70 countries across the globe. But he has a deep and abiding passion for the Coral Triangle, a place he keeps coming back to. His coverage of the region reflects the wonders he consistently discovers, but also the looming threats that face the area’s ecosystems and the people who rely on them.

This beautiful and poignant multimedia video reminds us what we all stand to lose if we fail to change our ways.

This post originally appeared at The Coral Triangle and is republished here with permission.

To see more of James’ work, find him on Facebook, Twitter, and his website.

Summer in Salt Lake City [vid]

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With ridiculously easy access to both the mountains and the water, not to mention all the cultural and culinary stuff going on in the Salt Lake Valley and beyond, the Greater Salt Lake City area is an incredibly awesome place to be in the summer. Matador filmmaker and director of productions Scott Sporleder shot the video above to drive this point home.
Video highlights

Keep your eyes peeled for the following:

0:01 – Hiking the Alexander Basin Trail in the Wasatch Mountains, just east of the city
0:19 – Mountain biking the trails at Snowbird
0:38 – Water skiing at Deer Creek Reservoir, a short drive northeast of Orem
0:43 – Paddleboarding on the Jordanelle Reservoir, just east of Park City
0:57 – Tubing the Provo River
1:18 – Night falling on Salt Lake City
1:24 – The adventures of an evening out in downtown SLC, complete with beer bikes, pedicabs, and fine dining

This post was proudly produced in partnership with Utah, home of The Mighty 5®.

Romantic airport serenade

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MAD PROPS TO THE GUY who staged the most romantic airport pickup ever. I have to say however, as sweet as this gesture was, hot damn — if I was that chick I’d be super disappointed he didn’t get down on one knee. That buildup screams “Will you marry me?” It seems over the top, welcoming someone back to Texas with hired musicians, when this dude’s girlfriend was only in Costa Rica teaching English for a month. When I got home from living in Europe over a year, my parents made me pay for my damn taxi.

Seclusion in a tourist hotspot

All photos: Author

Last month, my boyfriend and I drove up the coast from Los Angeles to Big Sur in a Jucy campervan. We were excited to leave the city and have a relaxing weekend. However, as we got closer, it was looking anything but quiet. The PCH was crammed with cars, the popular parks were crawling with tourists, and all first-come, first-served camping sites were taken.

But instead of changing direction and going to a less-populated area, we decided to stay put and figure out how to find some alone time among the crowds. Here’s what we learned.

1. Be flexible.

“I’m not worried about it” quickly became our mantra. Everything’s sold out? There’s a gazillion people everywhere? We don’t have reservations? Cool. “I’m not worried about it.” We realized if we were going to find some quiet in a mobbed campground, we had to be willing to not have all the answers, to ask questions, take risks, and embrace the spirit of adventure.

2. Unplug.

Finding solitude on our trip was as much a psychological task of “unplugging” as it was a physical task. Instead of struggling to keep connected digitally, we made the decision to turn off our devices. It was the best choice ever.

3. Sleep in your vehicle.

It didn’t take long to realize the benefits of camping in an all-inclusive vehicle. We could just sleep in our ride, which had a stove, fridge, two full-size beds, a table, and various other comforts. If campgrounds were full, it didn’t take much effort to find somewhere to park and get some shuteye.

4. Ask around for tips.

“You have not because you ask not” is one of my favorite mottos. Locals and park rangers can apprise you of lesser-known spots to get lost in. Don’t be shy.

5. Get comfortable with few services, or none.

Dispersed camping is a term used for free camping anywhere on undeveloped BLM (Bureau of Land Management) land outside a designated campground. You’ll be without a restroom, nowhere near treated water, and fined for creating a fire. Luckily, Christian and I didn’t mind adhering to that last rule, especially while traveling in a Jucy.

When we realized all Big Sur parks were sold out, we tried our hand at dispersed camping along Nacimiento-Fergusson Road. If you’re looking for privacy on a sold-out weekend, dispersed camping is a great option.

6. Find the alternatives to the most popular areas.

Pfeiffer Beach is the first beach that comes to mind when people think of Big Sur. On a teeming weekend like the one we traveled on, the line into the park is miles long, and the coast is overflowing with people. Beautiful though it is, the limited privacy is a tradeoff.

Instead of visiting Pfeiffer, Christian and I decided to take a local’s advice and spend the afternoon at Andrew Molera State Park, where we found a nearly private coast, secluded hiking, and gorgeous views.

7. Change your time zone.

In addition to visiting less popular beaches, get creative with your scheduling. Tourists and families besiege the beaches during peak daytime hours. The evening hours are when you’ll find more peace. You won’t get a tan, and it might be a little chillier, but you’ll escape the crowds and make some pretty epic memories.

8. Avoid the busiest trails.

There are plenty of popular hikes in Big Sur. The only problem is, on a summer-vacation weekend you’ll spend more time dodging other people than enjoying the trail. If privacy is a goal while camping, pick up a good topographical map, get off the beaten path, and explore alternative hikes.

9. Cook your own meals.

On a sold-out camping weekend, the last place you should visit is a restaurant or grocery store. We planned our meals ahead of time for our Big Sur adventure. We purchased food beforehand, cooked it onsite on our Jucy stove, and enjoyed several meals without feeling rushed or removed from the seclusion of our surroundings.

Editor’s note: The campervan for Christi’s trip was provided by Jucy Rentals.

Hyperlapse footage of Portugal

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IT ALWAYS FEELS LIKE no matter how extensive my travel plans are, I never see enough of the cities I am in. I often get to know certain areas very well, but there are entire neighborhoods of Oslo I breezed past, and sections of Prague I never set foot in, despite having lived there. This is when hyperlapse technology comes in handy; filmmaker Kirill Neiezhmakov seamlessly edits together parts of Lisbon and Sesimbra to give viewers a thorough taste of what Portugal has to offer. I’m blown away by the technology Neiezhmakov uses to create his fast-forward tour, and can’t wait to see what other cities or regions he and other travel filmmakers hyperlapse next.