Matador Network's Blog, page 2279

How to piss off a Latvian

Photo: Dainis Matisons

AS A NATION CUT OFF from the planet until two decades ago, Latvians may seem even more baffling than the average species of foreigner. But if you’re moving to Riga, making local friends is harder than just not peeing on sacred monuments. No, to get on the good side of Latvians you need subtler foot (or other appendage) work. Here’s how to bungle it.

Neglect the language.

Latvians have no delusions about how far their language reaches. With around two million speakers of Latvian in the world, your chances of randomly meeting a fellow Lett in a bar in Mumbai are slim (when it happens, you dine out on the story). Having “Fluent in Latvian” on your CV will not deliver you the keys to the corporate bathroom. Folk abroad lead happy lives without telling Latvian and Lithuanian apart.

But if you’re going to live here, taking an interest in the local tongue will soften hearts, for small as it may be, Latvians are very proud of the richly poetic broth they speak. True, educated young Latvians are precocious learners of foreign languages, and thanks to their efforts you can live comfortably in Riga using English.

No, those six cases and that ‘ķ’ sound unique to Latvian are not easy to master. But plenty of foreigners have done it, and it has helped them transition from grazing in Irish pubs to feeling like they belong. Even many Russian-speaking Latvians, long resented for their monolingualism, now speak beautiful, intriguingly accented Latvian. Start with a few words.

Mention the war.

The following is a brief rundown of Latvia’s history over the last century or so:

A revolution in 1905
Three years of World War I on its soil, followed by a bitter independence struggle between nationalists, communists, maverick Germans, Estonians, and the Royal Navy
Chaotic but cheerful democracy followed by the father-knows-best authoritarianism of Kārlis Ulmanis, in turn snuffed out by Soviet occupiers who shipped much of the elite off to Siberia
Nazi invasion, the Holocaust, and bloody fighting across the country (World War II ended a day later in Latvia than in Germany.)
More Soviet misrule, extermination of the best farmers during collectivisation, partisan warfare, then decades of stagnation and Russification
A mostly peaceful Singing Revolution in the late 1980s, leading to two decades of democracy marred by corruption and bipolar economic gyrations (how many countries have gone from double-digit growth to the world’s worst slump overnight?)

Yet somehow Latvia has managed to join the EU, adopt the euro, and even win Eurovision. Given this turbulent record, it’s hardly surprising that interpretations of history can be controversial. The March 16 parade of Waffen SS veterans (which, depending on your viewpoint, either honours brave Latvian soldiers who defended their homeland in the only uniforms available, or glorifies Nazism) and May 9 (the day the USSR beat the fascists / the continuation of totalitarian oppression) bring tempers to the boil.

As an expat, unless you have really done your research (and let’s face it, not too many have history PhDs), nothing you say about this whole mess will be the least bit constructive. Offering cut-price analyses of stuff this murky and painful is bound to mortally offend at least one person within earshot. Besides, the delirium passes quickly — the most amazing thing is that Latvians get along okay on the other 363 days of the year.

Deny them their personal space.

When a Latvian tells you he bought ten more hectares next to his farm to “keep the neighbours further away,” he’s not some loony loner or a drug pusher brewing meth in his shed. No, he’s merely expressing his culture’s insatiable craving for personal space.

How many angels sit on a pin? Just one if the pin is Latvian. The five-yearly Song Festivals with thousands of singers on stage together are a big deal precisely because getting together is the exception not the rule. Surnames are rarely given during introductions, and you can spend years not knowing your neighbours’ names at all.

That doesn’t mean Latvians are unfriendly — it’s just that levels of intimacy are not formed in Mediterranean all-in love-fest-in-the-piazza style. A sure way for expats to shut themselves off from Latvians is by dismissing them as cold, distant, or uncommunicative. They’re not, even if it takes ages for them to share basic personal information. And don’t stand so close in the supermarket queue.

Stay urban.

Gleaning your first impressions from the capital, you may think Latvia is an urban concept. With a sushi joint here and a hipster cyclist there, Riga could be a lowrise Manhattan (well, kind of). Over one third of the Latvian population lives in Riga, and a fair chunk of the remainder work there.

But the truth is Riga isn’t just Latvia’s biggest city — it’s the only one. Sorry, second-placed Daugavpils. With your 100,000 souls you’d barely qualify as a town elsewhere. And many of Riga’s 700,000 denizens hold their mind’s eye on the countryside, where relatives still farm, summer holidays are spent, and berries and mushrooms are sourced in autumn.

If you’re invited for skinny dipping in virgin lakes, listening out for nightingales on long forest walks, or singing songs to the accompaniment of grilling meat, don’t turn it down. Bucolic trips like these are essential to getting who Latvians really are — even iPad-wielding Dace and Andris, perky in the office after a weekend gathering wildflowers.

Forget your chivalry.

If you’ve read this far, you probably don’t need to be told that behaving like a horny baboon sprayed with a scent of eau-de-Aldaris is unlikely to get you a conversation, let alone laid. But dispiriting numbers of foreign blokes apparently need reminding. Yes, local girls are beauties, and come summer they strive to absorb Vitamin D in the most interesting places. True, as a glance at any Jugendstil building or sauna reveals, this is a nation with few hangups about the natural human form. Indeed, you probably do have more money than the average Latvian lass.

But none of these facts alone or in combination make them easy targets, and acting like they do is a fast way to get yourself branded a stinking sex tourist. And that is a breed even more despised than statue urinators.

This post was originally published at Life In Riga and is reprinted here with permission.

The post How to piss off a Latvian appeared first on Matador Network.

30 vibrant images of coral reefs

One of my best travel moments ever was when I was 12 years old, and my family was visiting Hawaii. We didn’t have plans for the entire day — we were just going to sit out at the beach and then get a nice dinner at night. I quickly got tired of making sandcastles — I was 12, for Christ’s sake — and tormenting my little sister, so I took out the mask, snorkel, and flippers my dad had bought me and walked out into the ocean.

Any other time I’d done this, I’d found nothing but sand floors and a fish or two — overall not quite exciting enough for me to spend much time on. But about 30 yards offshore, I came upon a coral reef; I spent hours hovering over it, watching colorful fish, turtles, and other bizarre creatures which, to this day, I don’t know the names for. When I came back in my back was sunburnt to a crisp, but I’d discovered what I’d be doing for the rest of the trip.

Here are some pictures from these incredible ecosystems.

1


If you've ever had the pleasure of visiting a coral reef, either as a diver or snorkeler, you understand how important it is that we protect these fragile ecosystems.
(via)





2


The ocean absorbs up to a third of humankind’s carbon emissions. As a result, we have less carbon in the atmosphere, which is a good thing—but this also leads to the acidification of the ocean as the carbon turns into carbonic acid.
(via)





3


Coral reefs are very delicate environments, and the effects of increased water acidity on reefs still aren’t totally understood—but they’re almost certainly not good.

(via)






Intermission





“The only way to save our reefs is to freeze them.”





16 astonishing images of islands that could disappear in the next century





18 amazing glass floor experiences [pics]












4


In addition to acidity, reefs are killed by rising global temperatures. The rise in temperatures from the 1998 El Nino system alone is believed to have killed 16% of all the world’s coral reefs.
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5


The increase in temperatures (and a number of other environmental factors) can cause corals to 'bleach,' which is when they expel tiny single-cell organisms that not only protect them but give them their color. The result is the probable death of the coral, and also the removal of a lot of the color from the ecosystem.
Photo: Scott Sporleder





6


If you go diving in a reef, go by the rule "take only pictures, leave only bubbles.” Even touching the reef with your fin or kicking up sand at the bottom can cause damage to the reef.
Photo: Scott Sporleder





7


If you live near an aquarium, chances are they’re doing a lot to protect aquatic ecosystems. Try supporting your local aquarium, your local conservation groups, and efforts to create marine preserves.
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8


Reefs form in one of three ways: First, they can be directly attached to the shore, as a 'fringing' reef. Second, they can be separated from the shore by a channel as a 'barrier' reef—like the world’s most famous reef, Australia’s Great Barrier Reef. And, third, they can form totally separately from land in a circle known as an atoll, pictured above. These can become their own islands.
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9


The Great Barrier Reef off the coast of Queensland, Australia, is made up of 2,900 individual reefs and 900 islands and is the largest object made of living organisms on Earth.
(via)





Intermission





75 places so colorful it’s hard to believe they’re real [pics]





20 reasons to get wet this summer [pics]





45 eerily beautiful abandoned places [pics]












10


Reefs are dependent on warm temperatures and sunlight, so many of their structures go right up to the surface, making them a hazard for sailors.
(via), (via) & (via)





11


Coral reefs are mostly made up of tiny little invertebrates, called corals, which latch onto rocks or other hard surfaces and start to grow out. As they die, they skeletonize, and new corals grow on top of them, so that over time, they're actually forming their own separate structures.
(via)





12


Because they form protective structures that're good for hiding in, are close to sunlight, and are in warm water, reefs are incredibly diverse ecosystems. This is, in large part, why they're as beautiful as they are for visiting divers and snorkelers.
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13


Snorkeling and diving in reefs is incredibly popular because of the sights and the relatively shallow depth, making them generally easier and safer dives for beginners.
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14


Even though they can be dangerous to sailors, reefs are a huge boon to humans: First, there are many islands that wouldn’t exist if their reefs didn’t help to protect them from waves, and second, they're a huge source of fishing and tourism revenue—in total amounting to between $30 and $375 billion dollars a year for the world economy.
(via) & (via)





15


Many of the species in coral reefs have symbiotic relationships, probably most famously—thanks to Finding Nemo—clownfish and anemones. Anemones serve as protection for the clownfish, while clownfish clean the anemones of parasites.
(via) & (via)





Intermission





21 examples of you-fall-you-die photography with the world’s most insane skywalkers





Abandoned train and subway stations of the world [PICs]





Amazing libraries around the world [PICS]












16


Most of the hazards facing coral reefs weren’t totally understood until fairly recently, and as a result we still basically don’t know what will happen. Some forms of coral reefs have been found in darker and colder environments, so while they might not continue to exist in their current forms for long, they may well be around in a different form for a long time to come.
Photo: Scott Sporleder





17


Aside from problems with global warming, coral reefs also face threats from water pollution and agricultural fertilizer runoff, which encourages algae growth.
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18


When coral reefs die, the ecosystem around them dies with them. They're usually taken over by algae or seaweed.
(via) & (via)





19


Unfortunately, a lot of the problems facing coral reefs are irreversible, and they may be one of many ecosystems that are disproportionate victims of the current mass extinction. If you want to see them as they exist today, now’s better than later.
Photo: Scott Sporleder





20


Of course, coral reefs can also be damaged by tourism—either by boats or the actual people snorkeling or swimming in them.
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21


Then there are the problems of overfishing, as well as fishermen who use either cyanide or explosives to fish. Cyanide fishing is to stun and capture fish for aquariums, but it’s cyanide, so of course it poisons other animals. And explosives is just literally the dumping of explosives in the water to kill the fish. Which seems so transparently stupid that it’s hard to believe it’s real.
Photo: Scott Sporleder





22


If you live near a coastline with coral reefs, you can help a few ways: First, find out how to dive and snorkel sustainably, and only support local dive shops that make an effort at this. You can also join reef cleanups.
Photo: Scott Sporleder





23


Don’t use chemical fertilizers, and don’t litter. Finding Nemo was right: All drains lead to the ocean.
(via)





24


If you’re going out into a reef area yourself, be sure to not use your anchor. Anchors can damage the reef floor.
(via) & (via)





25


Another simple fix is to plant a tree. Trees help prevent water runoff, and they reduce carbon in the atmosphere.
Photo: Scott Sporleder





26


If you are a fish collector, make sure your fish are captured in an ecologically sound manner—NOT using cyanide.
Photo: Scott Sporleder





27


You should also never start a liverock aquarium. Gathering the rock—even if done legally—damages the reef.
(via) & (via)





28


Another super easy step is to just walk and bike more—most of the current problems facing reefs have to do with carbon emissions, so cutting down your carbon footprint is one of the best ways to save reefs (and, let’s be honest, a good chunk of the other ecosystems out there).
Photo: Scott Sporleder





29


Finally, the best way to fix the problem is to contact your local representative. Sadly, the problem of global warming and climate change is a systemic one, and even though you can help with your individual efforts, a more cooperative, wide-scale effort needs to be made if we truly want to save our oceans.
(via) & (via)





30


You can't look at these images and not agree our coral reefs are worth protecting.
(via), (via) & (via)

The post 30 incredibly vibrant images of coral reefs and the creatures that call them home appeared first on Matador Network.

Hollywood vs. women of color

Lupita Nyong’o at the Academy Awards. Image: AP

Hollywood is playing with fire. American films have a significant global cultural impact on how and what people think, yet Hollywood has repeatedly supported the telling of one story, and one story only: that of being white and being male.

In a new infographic, the Representation Project analyzed the top 500 films of all time based on worldwide box office numbers from Box Office Mojo, and found that just six starred a woman of color. That’s 1% of the top 500 films — a startling stat that poses serious implications regarding how people of color and women are valued in society.

*Protagonist defined here as the primary character in a film’s primary storyline.
Image: The Representation Project

On the heels of one of the most significant awards seasons yet for women and people of color — John Ridley became the second black man to win an Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay, Lupita Nyong’o the sixth black woman to win Best Supporting Actress (for her work in 12 Years a Slave), and Alfonso Cuarón the first Latino to win Best Director (for Gravity) — it might seem easy to dismiss these claims.

Yet despite these wins, Hollywood has proved itself to be ignorant — or simply uncaring — of the monumental influence American cinema has in promoting one-sided ideals of womanhood and racial identity across the world.

None of the six films starring a woman of color have cracked the top 200. Five of these films are animated (Pocahontas, Mulan, Spirited Away, Lilo & Stitch, and The Princess and the Frog), and Sister Act, the sole live action film on the list, was released in 1992! That means it’s been over 20 years since Hollywood really put its monetary muscle behind a film centered on a living, breathing woman of color.

Image: The Representation Project

Yes, I said Hollywood — not audiences. Consumer tastes are often considered to be the driving force behind which films get made, but film industry insiders are ultimately the ones who not only decide what stories get told onscreen, but also which ones get the support of powerful marketing dollars to push them into the consciousness of movie-going audiences.

Films made with Hollywood’s stamp of approval win big at the box office, despite their frequently egregious shortcomings. Consider this fantastic point made by Imran Siddiquee in his writeup of the Representation Project’s findings: “[Last] year’s The Lone Ranger…was largely panned by critics, called racist, and deemed a relative failure by almost everyone in the industry. But it still made $260 million worldwide, placing it at #386 on the all-time list. Why? The film had a budget of $215 million and was marketed by Disney, with the trailer premiering during the 2013 Super Bowl.”

Image: The Representation Project

Audiences vote with their wallets, and by all accounts, if the top 500 grossing films do not feature a significant representation of women of color, then it could be argued that people simply do not want to see those stories being told. But these audiences can’t pay to see films they don’t know exist in the first place.

The lack of money — really, faith — that Hollywood funnels into promoting these films results in people all over the world not being encouraged to watch, understand, and empathize with stories about women of color. And that is simply dangerous.

As author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie warns, the danger of telling a single story from a white, male perspective is that people outside of that experience begin to believe their stories are less valid. But the majority of the world’s population are people of color. Thirty-six percent of US moviegoers are, too. Thus Hollywood’s apparent refusal to support, fund, and advocate for films that reflect these narratives, especially those of women of color, creates a cultural vacuum that paints a less authentic picture of humanity.

When Nyong’o accepted her Oscar, she reminded kids around the world watching at home that their dreams are valid. And when Cate Blanchett won her Oscar for Best Actress, she reminded Hollywood that films with women at the center are not “niche experiences.” I can’t wait for the day when speeches like these don’t need to be made, but if this year’s Oscars proved anything, it’s that the voices of women and people of color matter, and their stories deserve to be told. It’s time Hollywood listened.

This post was originally published at PolicyMic and is reprinted here with permission.

The post Hollywood’s problem with women of color is even worse than you realize appeared first on Matador Network.

7 reasons prostitution is illegal

Photo: Thomas Hawk

1. Americans need something to complain about.

If the United States decriminalized prostitution, brothels would be regulated and protected safe havens for both workers and clients.

Workers would have access to healthcare, birth control, and disease screening.

Law enforcement would be working to protect workers and clients, instead of working to incriminate them.

Both parties would be safer, with a lesser risk of getting beaten up, raped, kidnapped, or even murdered.

Prostitution would begin to be an integrated part of American society, culture, and tourism.

But where would all of that leave the pearl-clutching, finger-pointing, silently head-shaking citizens of the world? What would they have left to bring up in their Twilight book club next week?

2. Because not in my backyard!

Even though brothels would be isolated places in order to protect confidentiality, and they’d most likely never be established near a school, church, or Talbots department store, I’m very concerned they’d interfere with my daily upper middle-class life.

There would most definitely be an influx in the amount of leather tube tops worn in my neighborhood. And that’s not acceptable.

3. America is super rich, and we don’t need any extra money.

Prostitution in the United States is an estimated $18 billion industry, with none of that money going toward taxes or reducing the federal deficit. If decriminalized, the government could gain money from services as well as licensing fees, boosting the American economy.

But that would be Satan’s money, so, no thank you.

4. Girl, please. That’s not your body.

Just because you walk around in it every day, take it to kickboxing occasionally, and dress it up in a very fashion-forward cocktail dress every Friday night does not mean you get to decide what it does for money.

America has a long history of slapping laws on the body parts of its ladies. It’s one of the things we do best.

5. Everything is our business.

As a proud American, I insist on knowing and passing judgment over all of your sexual needs and desires.

And I have to tell you. I’m very grossed out by that threesome dominatrix fantasy you’ve been thinking about.

6. Because it’s weird.

Who wants to have sex with a highly skilled, competent, and non-judgmental consenting stranger? Seriously, who?

7. Expensive sex puts free sex in jeopardy.

If America legalizes prostitution, then all of the American husbands and boyfriends will rush out and spend their entire life savings on a wild romp at the Motel 6.

Because men have no control and they’re the only ones who want prostitutes.

And wives and girlfriends don’t put out.

And married sex is boring.

And other related stereotypes.

The post 7 obvious reasons why prostitution in the US is still illegal appeared first on Matador Network.

Recap: #MatUTalks 4/3/14

ON APRIL 3, we hosted our very first #MatUTalks Twitter chat. The topic was Transforming Your Travel Writing, and the questions were as follows:

Q1: What’s the difference (if any) between travel blogging and travel writing?



Q2: What’s the most interesting travel story you’ve ever read, and why?

Q3: What type of travel story do you dislike the most?



Q4: Name a favorite character from a travel story. What made them so memorable?



Q5: What would you like to see more of in travel writing?



Q6: What verbal cliches (‘land of contrasts’/ ‘treasure-trove’/ ‘hidden gem’) most annoy you?



Q7: What’s the most useful writing prompt you’ve ever found?



We had a great time interacting with our friends and followers on Twitter, and #MatUTalks became a trending topic in the USA and Canada! Travelogx has compiled some awesome stats, a “group photo” of all those who participated, and a full transcript of the questions, answers, and conversation from the chat. Check out the recap of our first #MatUTalks here.

We are currently developing more chats for the future, so keep watching Matador for the latest news and announcements.

The post #MatUTalks Recap: Transforming your travel writing appeared first on Matador Network.

When your boyfriend proposes abroad

Photo: Tom Cappellino

I went to Oslo to work. I’d found a super cheap flight to Norway online, booked it, and then realized I was going to the most expensive country in the world. So I decided my time would be better spent working during the day instead of spending money. I rented an apartment in the Grünerløkka part of town, purchased some groceries so I could cook meals at home, and made a schedule of work-related goals to accomplish during the seven days I’d be there.

I think I ticked off maybe two things from that list. Because on my third day in Oslo, I heard a knock at the door.

At first, I was frightened. No one, apart from friends and family, knew where I was. I didn’t know anyone in Oslo, and the people I’d rented the apartment from were vacationing in the south of France. Why would anyone be knocking at my apartment door at 10:30am? And even if I answered it, would I be able to communicate with them? Oslo is known to be an incredibly safe city, but would I be the first murder the town had ever heard of?

Moving gingerly, heart beating quickly, I opened the door. Behind it was my boyfriend, Tom. I didn’t recognize him at first, because he sort of looks like every Norwegian man I’d encountered — 6’2″, pointed features, impeccably dressed, cheeks stung bright pink from the harsh winds outside.

“Can I help — um, what the fuck?!” were the first words to come out of my mouth as I realized who it was.

I could see the fatigue in his eyes from traveling overnight in a cramped airline seat. He smiled, and slowly lowered himself down to one knee. And then, it happened —

He proposed to me.

This is the guy who said he wanted to propose to me on the Jumbotron at a New York Islander’s hockey game.

My initial reaction was confusion. “What?!” I kept repeating. “What are you doing here?! I don’t get it, how did you get here?! WHAT IS GOING ON?!”

He hugged me from the floor, laughing. Later on, I realized I had forgotten to accept his proposal after ushering him into my flat, claiming that he must be exhausted from his trip and needed to rest. But I didn’t really need to say it, because he already knew the answer.

Tom and I have been dating for three and a half years. We’ve been friends since high school (I was his senior prom date), and after years of dating other people, we realized it was time we actually got together. We’ve been living together since 2012.

Tom doesn’t really travel, per se. He likes traveling, and wishes he could do it more often. But he doesn’t have the same amount of vacation time as I do. He enjoys his job as a hospital system administrator, and his priority right now is saving money to help us start our life together. We have to plan our trips very carefully, to fit his schedule. He’s also very cautious, and doesn’t like to make spontaneous decisions without thoroughly thinking them over.

When I’d asked him if he wanted me to buy him a ticket to Oslo, at $450 round-trip, his initial reaction was hesitancy.

“I’m not sure I can take off the time,” he’d told me. That was in August. The trip would be for the following March.

One of the best things about Tom, however, is that he lets me travel wherever I want, without question. When other couples hear about my solo travel plans, they’re confused. “Don’t you want to travel with him?” or, “I’d never let me girlfriend go anywhere by herself,” are the most common reactions I get.

But that’s not what Tom is about. He knows that if he were to keep me from doing the thing I love most, he’d lose me.

Photo: Tom Cappellino

We trust each other, which also helps. He knows he can let me go to Oslo for a week and I won’t cheat on him. Likewise, I know he would never take some random bargirl home and screw her while I was away. That’s something a lot of couples don’t have, but it’s what’s kept our relationship so strong.

Tom’s never really been a planner — he’s left that part of our vacations to me. So when he showed up at my apartment in Oslo, bags in hand and ready to kiss me, I couldn’t believe it at first. This is the guy who said he wanted to propose to me on the Jumbotron at a New York Islander’s hockey game.

I’m super glad he didn’t.

Words still can’t explain the depth of emotion I feel for Tom right now. Never in a million years would I have expected him to pull off such a romantic, unique proposal. But now I know he is capable of anything, and that his love for me goes beyond his customary hesitations.

We spent the next five days together exploring Oslo. We called our families over Skype to announce the good news (Tom had already informed them of his plans, and I still can’t believe they kept the secret for so long). I took my photo next to Norwegian artist Edvard Munch’s “The Scream”, showing off my engagement ring, which belonged to my grandmother. Tom used the free ring to justify his travel expenses.

“I knew this would mean more to you than an actual store-bought ring,” he told me. “I could have bought five trips to Norway for the price of one ring. And the way you score deals to travel, I knew this would be a better return on my investment.”

He was incredibly right.

The post When your boyfriend travels abroad to propose to you appeared first on Matador Network.

12 sure signs you're from LA

Photo: Ian Broyles

1. You’re not from “Los Angeles.”

We’ve got a lot of pride in our city, but it’s second to a more localized loyalty. A team prefixed by Los Angeles wins a championship, sure, the whole town riots as one. But if somebody sits down in a bar next to a guy born and raised in LA and asks where he’s from, that guy isn’t going to say he’s from Los Angeles. That guy is from Santa Monica. Or Culver City, or West Hollywood, or any other individual city that makes up the megalopolis that is LA.

It’s not that we hate each other (although there’s a fair amount of snobbery that goes on). It’s just that Los Angeles as a city is so diverse that each neighborhood/city has turned into a niche, sheltering the inhabitants from the horrors of having to adapt to other people. It’s like the nation-states of Ancient Greece, with better hot dogs and worse drivers. America may be a melting pot, but Los Angeles is a box of chocolates, and the caramel doesn’t like being called the coconut.

Ignore this fact and you risk — shudder — being called a tourist. Or worse — a transplant.

2. Most conversations involve directions.

Everybody laughed when Saturday Night Live did “The Californians,” but people in Los Angeles sat confused for a moment, running the listed directions through their head and seeing if they made sense. It’s like an unconscious disease that’s wormed its way into our minds, where we constantly need to know the fastest way from point A to point B at any given time, because hey, you never know when Olympic will back up for a few miles when you’re trying to get home.

It gets worse in the car, where it’s nearly impossible to have a conversation about anything else. Picture this: a passenger consulting Waze, and two more debating with the driver whether going all the way to the 405 will save time. And that’s just on the way to the grocery store.

3. Traffic doesn’t really even bother you anymore.

On the other hand, sometimes you really can’t be bothered to take 40 turns just to get home after a long day of work. The 405 is packed, but there’s something Zen, something stereotypically Californian, about sitting in traffic with the window down listening to music without a care in the world.

Most people would get frustrated. Tourists gape at the prospect of taking two hours to drive 10 miles. Those tourists usually have a reliable public transportation system back home. Probably one that even takes them all the way to the airport, the spoiled bastards. Angelenos have had to deal their whole lives. Like a blind man whose other senses have had to work harder to compensate, Angelenos have learned to cope with the facts of life. Our sense of patience is working overtime.

Photo: noisemedia

4. But you’re still holding out hope for a subway to the sea.

We act like we’re not jealous of all those Londoners with Oyster cards and the Chube. We’ve adapted. But secretly, every time whispers go around about a subway extension (at least once a year), we turn into giddy little kids on career day dreaming about the day they become a fireman.

Oh, could you just imagine! Cheap and reliable service to LAX and Venice Beach! People have made dozens of imaginary maps of what it could look like, with so many lines and stops that construction wouldn’t be finished until the sun exploded. They’re the kind of drawings teenage girls do in their notebooks, only replace her future wedding dress with a way to get home from the bars that doesn’t include an angry taxi driver.

There are steps being taken nowadays. Legislation being passed, new stops being put in. But Los Angeles’ economy looks like Adam Smith and John Maynard Keynes straight up took a dump on it. There’s a 70-year backlog on potholes that need filling. Right now, that subway to the sea may be a fairy tale, something people born 10 years from now might one day enjoy. But there’s no shame in holding out hope.

5. You’ve accused somebody of being a transplant as an insult.

When somebody from Los Angeles gets mad, the first reaction is to call the offender a transplant — somebody who just moved to the city. To be fair, there are a shit ton of transplants here. Naïve blonde chicks from Ohio who skipped college to try and make it as an actress, and hey, they’ve got a casting session in the valley with some dude they met in a bar!

More like this: How to piss off an Angeleno

But it’s not exactly something to be ashamed of, and locals still use it as their go-to method to be as offensive as possible. The driver that cuts them off? Transplant. The guy who doesn’t know how to merge? Transplant. The idiots crossing the road when you have a green light? Better believe that’s a fucking transplant.

Half the transplants come out when you’re behind the wheel. The other half come out when you believe somebody is misrepresenting Los Angeles, forgetting the fact that in a city of 3 million people, there’s bound to be some differing opinions. There will probably be a transplant comment in the comments of this very article. To hear an average Angeleno tell the tale, there would be only five “real” Angelenos in the entire goddamn city.

6. You avoid Hollywood like the plague.

The Hollywood sign is an international icon. So are the Chinese Theatre and the Walk of Fame. With such a rich culture, steeped in the tradition of film and glamor, surely Hollywood must be the place to be for spotting the hippest celebrities and getting just a glimpse of the movie star treatment. Right?

Here’s the flaw in that logic: Why the hell would anybody, celebrities included, go someplace filled with people specifically trying to ogle their every move? There are two types of people actually in Hollywood. Transplants and tourists who didn’t think things through, and homeless people dressed as Spider-Man ready to stab them for taking a picture without paying.

Hollywood, especially Hollywood and Sunset Boulevards, is a bona fide shithole. Mr. Rogers’ star on the Walk of Fame is in front of a sex shop. All the glamor of the Academy Awards is an annual marketing machine. People from Los Angeles are at least aware of that.

7. You get unnaturally attached to mediocre local food joints.

A little over a year ago, Henry’s Tacos closed its doors. La-di-da, right? Except Aaron Paul of Breaking Bad tweeted out an attempt to save the restaurant, and people piled out in droves. There were petitions and sit-ins. More celebrities gave their support to the little taco stand in North Hollywood. Of course, it ended up being for naught — the shop still closed down — but the support and outrage was huge.

Here’s the thing: Henry’s Tacos was pretty standard fare. In a town like Los Angeles, you could throw a burrito in the air and hit a better Mexican joint. What made it special was the fact that it had existed in the same spot for 50 years. Remember that neighborhood loyalty we talked about way back up in #1? People are fiercely protective of neighborhood institutions, and when you grow up getting the same taco every Wednesday, you get attached. Nostalgia is a tasty seasoning.

Every Angeleno has a local joint they go to, and while it may not be their favorite — they might not even go very often — they would be devastated to find out it was shutting its doors. Let’s see a McDonald’s pull that off.

Photo: Courtney “Coco” Mault

8. But you still take friends from out of town straight to the In-N-Out near the airport.

…But that’s not to say we hate chains. In-N-Out isn’t some small local fare by any means — they’re in Texas now for God’s sake — but there’s something about the mystique of the secret menu and its refusal to franchise that makes it feel distinctly Californian. And it started just outside of Los Angeles, so we can at least pretend it’s ours.

By now, everybody’s heard of In-N-Out and the secret menu’s out, so when friends come to visit, they always want to try out the Animal Style they’ve heard so much about. One of the most convenient locations is on Sepulveda, just near the exit to LAX, so the line is always packed with foreigners wondering why the menu is so sparse and locals trying to get one last Double Double before they go away for a while.

You’d think there would be some kind of hipster effect, where Angelenos start to hate it as it proliferates outwards, but the food is just too good. I can’t stay mad at you, 3×3 Animal Style with Animal Fries.

9. You cringe at the word “hella.”

Los Angeles and San Francisco have a bit of a one-sided rivalry. San Francisco hates LA. They hate our better weather, they hate our “vapid culture,” and most of all they hate the Dodgers. Meanwhile, Los Angeles doesn’t mind San Francisco. The rain and fog is a nice break from the 364 days of sunshine we get a year. The Giants may win their share of baseball games, but Dodger Dogs are a damn good consolation prize. Nobody from LA will talk shit on San Francisco in any serious manner.

Read it: Why San Francisco hates Los Angeles

But there’s one thing we can’t forgive: the word “hella.” It’s nails on a chalkboard. If you’ve never heard it before, think of it like a synonym for “very.” So, “Dude, I’m pretty hungry,” becomes, “Yo, I’m hella hungry.” It’s just…why? The worst part is that nobody can explain why we hate it so much. We Angelenos say words that probably sound just as stupid to other people. But hella, man. It’s so, really, very annoying.

10. You get anxious at the prospect of jaywalking or parking.

When I first started going abroad, people would cross the street wherever the hell they wanted. I didn’t get it. They would run into the street right in front of cars, even police cars, as if they were playing a real life game of Frogger, and nobody batted an eye. I had to fight to swallow my anxiety before I could follow.

It’s not that I was afraid of being hit by a car. It’s conditioning. In Los Angeles, the police won’t hesitate to pass out jaywalking tickets to anybody brave enough to step off a curb before the little green man beckons from across the road. You laugh at that scene in Harold & Kumar. We nod in humble sympathy. Of course, we have a ton of unsolved crimes, but somehow passing out jaywalking tickets takes precedence. Gotta get that city budget back up to snuff, I guess.

It’s the same with parking. Whenever you park, you feel a biological compulsion to read through every detail of the ticketing times. When you’re abroad, these roughly amount to “don’t park here at night.” In LA, you can park on one side of the street every other day for two hours in the morning except Tuesdays which is one hour and every other day you can park for six hours but only if you have a permit. At a certain point, you just say “fuck it” and park elsewhere. And you’ll still come back to find a ticket left a minute after the time expired.

11. You’re fanatical about at least one of Los Angeles’ sports teams.

Maybe you’ve heard: Los Angeles has sports teams. And they’re pretty damn good. So good, in fact, that some of their best rivalries don’t even leave the city. Bryant #24 jerseys are so popular that half the people wearing them couldn’t name another player, and the Clippers handed the Lakers their worst loss in team history this year. The Kings won the Stanley Cup recently and single-handedly turned a city into hockey fanatics (bandwagon or not, the city loves its hockey). Without a professional football team, we’ve turned USC and UCLA into one of the greatest rivalries in sports, where people who attended neither pick sides.

Sports practically run this town. The very health and stability of the city hinges on whether or not one of our teams is in the running for the National Championship, and there’s gonna be a riot no matter the outcome. A city so broke it gives out jaywalking tickets will foot the bill for a parade if there’s a win.

Of course, this isn’t localized to Los Angeles. Everybody either loves us, or loves to hate us. But there’s something about getting free tacos in the Staples Center after a Lakers win that tastes oh so good.

12. You consider car chases a sport.

Speaking of being the national champions. Los Angeles is so good at car chases we have dedicated apps to let us know when they’re on TV. That’s when we crack a beer and cheer on our boys in blue as they zip through the streets in the ultimate contact sport. The news anchors are the announcers. The times the perp almost gets away are the touchdown plays. When the chase gets within a few blocks of your house, that’s a home game, and you better be craning your neck for a glimpse of the action.

Hell, OJ Simpson is our standing MVP in football and the chase.

It’s a morbid sport, sure. A lot of people aren’t into them. But like I said, people in LA are desensitized to traffic, and that includes the traffic hurtling 50 miles an hour down the wrong side of the road. In a town so driven by cars, you gotta insert a little levity into the equation. That’s the real mark of an Angeleno.

The post 12 sure signs you were born and raised in Los Angeles appeared first on Matador Network.

On summitting Makalu

A heavenly sunset from Makalu La. All photos by author.

I’m not a mountaineer, nor do I ever intend to be — there’s far too much drama and death involved. I joined this alpinist circus a few years back and have only recently begun to grasp the consequences. Nonetheless, I am irresistibly drawn back for one more try, one more mountain.

I first came to Nepal in 1991. We did a one-month trek up to Makalu base camp. I remember thinking at the time that it would be completely insane to go any higher.

Fast forward to last spring 2013 — buckled into a helicopter with five others, we barrel through the misty Arun Valley. Hemmed in on either side by sharp impossible cliffs, we descend into Yangri Kharka, a one-hut town with a few chickens and even fewer eggs. The cold air blasts you the second you disembark, a splitting headache hits a couple hours later. We huddle in a smoke-filled room, joking about the endless varieties of dal bhat that we can look forward to. We’re all here for different reasons bar one: Each of us wants to summit Makalu, 8,485 meters above sea level, fifth-highest mountain in the world. Aside from that I’m guessing most are looking to unlock something inside, to reach a higher playing field in life. I can’t explain exactly why, but I know that I have to get to the top.

Performing pujaa at Advanced Base Camp.

A few days after reaching advanced base camp (ABC), some of us walk solemnly around the desolate moonscape, contemplating memorials of fallen climbers. Plaques and tin barrel tops are engraved with dates and names of those who never returned. A mutilated helicopter blade, another symbol of disaster, lies dejectedly on the ground. People die up here, more than I care to think about. There should be a sign with two arrows, one pointing up labeled “DEATH” and the other pointing down labeled “LIFE.” Each one of us knows that there’s a chance we might not make it back. No one other than myself claims to have a headache…yeah, right. I guess no one is afraid of what we’re about to get into, either. Stories of death and misadventure creep into our dinner conversations like uninvited guests. You’d have to already be dead not to feel the fear.

At some point death silently crawls upon your shoulder and waits to reach out and wrap its cold tentacles around you like a deep-sea monster. You feel it every moment, biding its time. Don’t worry, death is patient. Death will wait — it has all the time in the world.

And it seems as if you do, too. Too much time alone with your thoughts that keep spinning round and round like a pinwheel in a gale. A distant cousin, doubt seeps into your mind, haunting ambition. You can’t hide and must confront both or else they will destroy your resolve.

Highest elevation book sale in the world by the author.

I’m used to a solitary lifestyle. The last 20 years of my life have been spent, off and on, at sea, working on everything from commercial fishing boats in Alaska to luxury sailing yachts in the Caribbean. I’m used to the continuous days by myself, the monotony of long voyages, the never-ending game of “hurry up” and “stand by.” Most of the time it’s only you and your thoughts, same as here.

Weather is just as important. Sailors spend as much if not more time scouring weather data as mountaineers, cross-referencing and double-checking as many sources as possible before making a final decision to head offshore. As soon as you drop the lines and sail away into the deep blue water, you’re at the mercy of the weather. The same holds true the moment you leave base camp and head for higher ground. If a storm hits, you’re in it, for better or worse. Sometimes it feels as if you’re caught in a raging sea storm, peaks and ice transformed into massive frozen waves about to crash over you.

The first summit attempt began to go pear-shaped the moment we left Camp One. Departing too late in deteriorating weather, many of us didn’t make it to Makalu La until well into the night in snow flurries and gusting winds. Beyond exhaustion, we arrived to find that the Sherpas had only brought three tents for the entire expedition. Six of us had to cram into each three-man tent. Sleeping on top of one another, I managed to squeeze a few hours’ sleep past the squirming bodies, phlegm hacking, and driving winds.

I sensed some of the Sherpas had no intention of going further. Stilted English phrases like “Too windy, no chance” and “Too early, not enough rope” floated between the tents like bad omens. Who could blame them when their meager salaries could barely cover family expenses back home? Even so, we strapped on our headlamps and marched off into the long evening rays. Almost everyone wore oxygen masks, immediately sealed off in another world as if scuba diving. This high it doesn’t matter how many Sherpas or how many bottles of oxygen you have them lug along — in the end you’re all alone. If you start thinking somebody is going to come to your rescue, chances are high there might be a plaque at ABC with your name on it next year.

Black ice on top of fresh snow, a deadly combination, forced us to turn back that night. The next morning some members decided to bail. I weighed the possibility, but after a few hours of semi-sleep reconsidered. It would be four climbers along with some Sherpas. We set off in sunny afternoon skies and low wind. The weather forecast was favorable for the moment. As the skies darkened we reached the first ice wall. We were the first group up the mountain for the season and had no idea how much rope was still intact from previous expeditions…a big gamble.

Mr. Liu came up behind me with a ski pole in each hand. “Where is your ice axe?” I asked. “Didn’t bring it — don’t need it.” I begged to differ, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Hours passed as the Sherpas tried to locate the route and fix the first ropes. I dug out a trench in the snow and waited…and waited. I was getting a bad feeling. There was too much money on the table with only a pair of Jokers to show for it. It was taking them hours to fix the first pitch and we had no idea what lay ahead. Finally, I began to follow the footprints back and left my cards on the table. Was that it? Would I have another chance to roll the dice?

Arriving at Camp III for a brief respite.

The next morning, beat up and busted from three days at 7,400 meters, I set off for ABC with my Sherpa. No energy left, I pinballed down the mountain, slipping and sliding as I descended. My Sherpa raced further and further ahead, beelining for the hot plate of dal bhat that awaited him in the kitchen tent. Completely tapped out at Camp One, sans Sherpa, I decided to spend the night there alone as dusk settled in. This would not have been a problem if I had a lighter. No lighter meant no food and, more importantly, no water. I salivated as I stared longingly at the last remaining chunks of ice in my water bottle, cursing my Sherpa and hoping tomorrow would be a better day. Small simple things become so vital at high altitude.

Thoroughly dehydrated, I staggered into a solemn ABC the next morning. Liu was dead. The two climbers and Sherpa who made it to the top returned late in the afternoon, but their grim faces belied triumph. Everyone ate in silence. Liu was dead, another life swallowed by Makalu, nothing more needed to be said. This was the cost that each of us knew might have to be paid. The decision was made that evening to pull the plug. Everyone would be leaving…except me. I had unfinished business with this mountain.

There were now other camps as well, members ranging from exorbitantly rich sons and daughters of Indian socialites sporting extra Sherpas and an endless supply of oxygen to rock star soloists to ancient esoteric Japanese schoolteachers. One camp was chock full of public speakers, or “motivators” — it said as much on each one’s flashy business card, just below “Everest Summiteer.” Funny how everyone gets into the motivation business once they summit Everest. I guess it helps cover their mountaineering bills.

Days turned into weeks as the jet stream hovered over the summit like a worried mother, refusing to let go. Quarrels broke out among camps as egos flared and time ticked away. Soon the monsoon would set in — once that happened, all bets were off. I climbed up and down to higher camps, shaving minutes, then hours off my original times as my body became more acclimatized. Boredom set in as stacks of books and conversations were exhausted. Nothing to do. Breakfast to lunch to dinner to sleep…do it again. Time…somehow…sometimes…stopped.

And then the day came. I was ready…or so I thought. I had traded in my original Sherpa for another who favored my well-being over a hot plate of dal bhat. Older, stoic Dawa resembled a weathered sailor who had seen many a storm. He was all business and only said 20 or so words a day, but each one counted. If things got messy you knew that somehow he would be there, that he would get you out. But who was I kidding? With or without him, I was alone when it came down to it.

As we went up Makalu La one last time, we passed the vanguard who’d attempted the summit a few days before. A few made it, most did not. Conflicting reports of poor coordination and failure to bring enough rope trickled down the mountain with each passing body. We were the last group to go, the last ones to have a shot at the title.

Trudging above the French Couloir.

Dawa and I pitched our tent 100 meters above the others. We would leave just after midnight. After slurping down one last cup of tea and some noodles, I dug into my thermal cocoon and tried to calm my nerves, popping an Ambien for good measure. This was it…the final push.

Hours later Dawa rustled against me, then fired up the stove. Nothing like a warm cup of butter tea and some tsampa before heading out into a -40 C night…yuck! It took everything I had not to vomit. Altitude diminishes your appetite and it becomes difficult to eat, causing nausea similar to seasickness. It took everything I had to force down food and drink that I considered unappealing even in the best conditions. Even so, Dawa claimed it would give me the boost I needed to make it to the top, and I was not about to call into question his three previous summits.

Lights flickered in the camp below. Dawa and I muscled on our boots, readied our gear. As we adjusted our crampons, lights drew closer. Only two headlamps…two were not coming. “One of them is sick. Let’s do this!” shouted Sebastiano in his thick Italian accent. Now was no time to dawdle. Navigating up the first ice wall, Sebastiano abruptly doubled over. His Sherpa fretted. “I think I’m out, too. Go ahead, we’ll try and catch up.” We trudged steadily ahead, turning back a few times to watch the headlamps fade into the black.

Now there were only two of us. Doubt seeped into my mind. No time for thinking now, just get up that mountain. As dawn broke I moved to one side to snap a few photos. Suddenly the ground dropped out from beneath me and I was chest deep in a crevasse. I hauled myself onto firm ground with the help of Dawa as he scolded me, vaguely realizing that my life could have ended moments before. That’s all it takes up here, one false move. I could feel death nearby smacking its lips. Don’t worry, it’ll wait.

While climbing you have to know how to turn off the pain and go somewhere else. I dove deep into memories and traveled back in time. Comical childhood stories kept looping through my head as I grinned and chuckled to myself. You also have to learn how to break things into a million little pieces. If you think of heading straight to the top you’ll become overwhelmed. Whittle things down into tiny steps. Clip onto the next rope, make it to the top of the next ridge, check the next ice anchor…baby steps. Sometimes you have to drop down further into micro-increments, like opening a candy bar or changing a camera battery…or breathing. Can’t forget that. Anything beyond this level can be daunting.

The wind increased steadily as Dawa and I edged up over the French Couloir. This is where most of the others turned back. It seemed we were getting close, but where the hell was the summit? As if reading my mind, Dawa pointed off to a white peak in the distance. A new wave of energy surged through me. I had a visual. Everything became mechanical. Baby steps…keep moving…stop thinking…keep moving.

Approaching the summit is worthy of all the hurdles faced before.

I crawled up the final pitch, ice axe in hand, to find Dawa huddled down against pummeling winds. “We have to leave — I’m snow blind!” he cried. “Hunchha, ek chin!” After a few quick snapshots we regrouped and retreated. That was it, months of training and planning culminated in a few minutes of glory. The countless hours of preparation, the incessant fear and pain, if only to touch heaven for a moment.

I look back at those pictures now and still can’t believe I reached the top. Two little specs of flotsam that made it through a violent, frozen ocean and back. Reading about all of mountaineering disasters that have happened since then have made me aware of just how fragile we are in these deadly places where we don’t belong, but I know I’ll be back. I can’t explain exactly why, but I’ll be back.

The post On summitting Makalu appeared first on Matador Network.

14 things to do in Utah post-skiing

IF YOU’VE BEEN FOLLOWING our series on skiing Utah and The Greatest Snow on Earth, you’ve met all 14 of the state’s resorts by the numbers, gotten breakdowns of the best ski runs and the sickest terrain parks, and seen some incredible photos that make you want to ski Utah right now.

But what happens at the end of your trip, once you’re skied out, your legs are aching, you’re rocking a full-on goggle tan? You could pack it up and head home, but you’d be missing out. Whether it’s tacking a few extra days onto an epic ski trip, going out on the town after last chair, or just coming to Utah during the spring shoulder season, when the snow’s still deep but it’s warm enough that you want to diversify and see what else is out there, here’s what you should be doing.

This post is brought to you by Utah, home of The Greatest Snow On Earth®. With 11 ski resorts less than an hour from Salt Lake City International Airport, there’s plenty of powder for the perfect ski vacation.

1

Singletrack slickrock.
Utah’s known for some of the most epic mountain biking on the planet. Just an hour and a half from the ski slopes, there’s tons of slickrock to ride—and not just the Slickrock Trail, which draws huge crowds in Moab. Gooseberry Mesa in Hurricane has 14 miles of technical slickrock and singletrack, with none of the crowds (yet). Plus, it has something else Moab doesn’t: mind-blowing views into Zion National Park.

Photo: Zach Dischner





2

Rock the stands at a Jazz game.
Once you’re done exerting yourself on the hill, go watch a bunch of other people do the same on the basketball court. Head to an evening Jazz game, where you can snag some nosebleed seats at EnergySolutions Arena for as little as $13. Yeah, so they haven’t been winning too many games lately, but pretzels, hot dogs, and showing a little support for the home team—that’s what sports are all about.

Photo: Bryce Edwards





3

Shoot the Wave.
Hiking to The Wave in Coyote Buttes North is one of the most mythical journeys in the United States. Limited to just 20 visitors per day, this is going to take a good amount of advance planning. For the best chance, enter the lottery for permits four months ahead of time online—they’ll let you know if you’re one of the lucky winners.

Otherwise, you can try for a walk-in permit. Show up at the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument Visitor Center in Kanab, before 9am the day before you want to go, to be considered for one of 10 permits. If chosen, you’ll be rewarded with a six-mike hike on an unmarked trail and the chance to be surrounded by flowing orange, red, pink, and yellow sandstone. It’s one of the most photographed landmarks in the United States, so if you don’t make it through the lottery, you’ll at least be able to live vicariously through those who do.

Photo: Raniel Diaz




Learn more: 20 things you didn’t know about Salt Lake City




4

See how your skis were made.
Utah is home to several big names in the ski industry, including Rossignol and Black Diamond, but also a handful of smaller, independent manufacturers. DPS and Bluehouse are both making their innovative lines in Utah. Bluehouse, which launched in 2007 in Salt Lake City, even opens its doors to visitors curious to see how skis are made in their factory. Just give them a call or send an email to arrange a time—you’ll probably never look at your skis the same way again.

Photo: Alison and Fil





5

Go nature-watching at Antelope Island State Park.
Where else can you drive six miles into the middle of a gigantic lake and see herds of free-range bison? Antelope Island is 27,000 acres of the exact opposite of what you were looking at before you got on the island: no buildings, no cars, no suburbs. Just nature—a billion kinds of birds, mountains reflecting in the lake, bighorn sheep, mule deer, 360-degree views, and pronghorn antelope (obviously). March and April provide the best opportunities to catch a glimpse of bald eagles and bison babies.

Photo: JC Essentials ;)





6

Soak your muscles.
You can’t take a ski or snowboard trip without your body eventually screaming for an evening in the hot tub. (Bonus points if you have one that fits the whole crew, as above.)

For something a little more natural, seek out one of Utah’s many hot springs. Spring is a great time to hit up Fifth Water. Once the snow thaws on the road up to Diamond Fork Canyon, the 7-mile snowshoe hike in turns into a more reasonable 2.5-mile walk. The super-hot water here can get up to 108 degrees, but the pools sit alongside a running-water stream that helps to cool you down if the pots get too steamy.

Photo: Dan Olson





7

Catch a show.
What you may not know about Utah is that it’s literally the only big stop in the Intermountain West. This means epic bands from all over have to stop here on their way across the country. Not only that, but there’s a huge pool of regional talent out of Salt Lake City and the surrounding area, which means on any given night of the week, at any time of year, there’s a show you’re going to want to see. Most resorts host live music regularly, especially in the spring. Try the Owl Bar at Sundance for live local and national acts on the weekends. If that’s not your jam, there are a number of legendary live music venues in SLC, like The State Room, Kilby Court, Bar Deluxe, or Urban Lounge.

Photo: waves & leaves





8

Hit the skatepark.
Not ready to stop riding a board? Forget it! Utah’s surprisingly skate-friendly, with over 60 different parks spread across the state. For the perfect apres skate sesh, try the South Jordan park (aka Sojo) on S. Redwood Road, where the park stays lit for skaters until 10pm.

Photo: Ahmad Hammoud





9

Explore one of America’s premier national parks.
The national parks located in Utah all show off some of the most spectacular, ‘alien’-like landscapes on the planet. Combining a trip to one of Utah’s 5 national parks (Bryce Canyon, above, hosts free full-moon, naturalist-guided hoodoo hikes) with your spring break ski trip means you’re getting access to these incredible places minus the crowds (and the heat).

Photo: Paxson Woelber





Intermission





20 things you didn’t know about Salt Lake City





Why you should explore Breck in the off-season





The 5 sickest terrain parks in Utah












10

Take advantage of Utah’s craft beer revolution.
Utah loves craft beer. Epic Brewing in SLC gives tours of their brewery, followed by samples. Uinta Brewing also gives tours by (appointment only), and they have a brewpub where you can sample beers on tap before purchasing a few bombers to go. And, my personal favorite, Wasatch gives a Beer Tasting 101 course at their brewpub. That’s some post-ski education I can get behind.

Photo: Don LaVange





11

Get in some epic rounds of disc golf.
Base Camp in Moab is disc golf heaven. There very well may not be another place like it in the world—Martian scenery, rock towers, and one hole (13B, "The Chasm") traversing a huge drop. Base Campe is about an hour from downtown Moab, and you'll need 4WD to get here, especially in the winter. Camp out overnight for only $5/person.

Photo: Srikanth Jandhyala





12

Followed by some epic rounds of 'regular' golf.
Head down to St. George for year-round and/or post-ski golf. Thanks to longer daylight hours in the springtime, you’re able to stretch your day with a twilight round of golf at one of the country’s craziest golf courses. Check out Sand Hollow—the red rock cliffs surrounding the course make it feel a little like you’re golfing on a different planet.

Photo: Bureau of Land Management





13

See petroglyphs and dinosaur fossils at Dinosaur National Monument.
Northern Utah’s been around much longer than we humans, and Dinosaur National Monument is proof. The Carnegie Quarry once held the fossils of 11 different species, including superstars from your childhood like the Stegosaurus and Apatosaurus (aka, the Brontosaurus). There are also many places throughout the park where visitors can view petroglyphs and petrography drawn into the surrounding rocks by the Fremont people at least a thousand years ago.

Photo: Helena Price





14

Or, just ski some more.
At the end of the day, when most resorts are calling last chair and skiers are falling over into hot tubs or spilling into apres bars, Park City, Brighton, Brian Head, Sundance, Powder Mountain, and Wolf Mountain are just getting revved up. Take advantage of empty slopes, stadium lights, and the mild spring evenings and just keep on shredding long after the sun has gone down.

Photo: dennis crowley

The post 14 things to do in Utah after you’re done skiing appeared first on Matador Network.

10 facts about Game of Thrones [vid]

GAME OF THRONES is set to once again dominate our television screens this year. I was lucky enough to hike on a glacier in Iceland where many parts of the show are filmed, but this video revealed to me many more unknown facts about where the show is shot, the animals used to play the direwolves, and of course, the show’s use of nudity, and soft core porn.

Culturally, Game of Thrones has changed the way we think about science fiction, and fantasy. I think it’s the first show I’ve ever seen that I don’t “trust” (meaning, it’s hard to invest myself in any single character, because they could die in the next episode).

It hass created new words, new memes, and a whole new way of traveling to places that seem so foreign, and yet, are the setting for where where King Joffrey got bitch slapped by his badass uncle, Tyrian Lannister. I’m not sure where season four will take me, but if there is more of that, yes please.

The post 10 cool facts about Game of Thrones to get you PUMPED for the Season 4 premier (Video) appeared first on Matador Network.