March 2014 – Page 2 – GO HERE. DO THIS. EAT THAT.

The Time I Met Ron Jeremy, Bill Plympton, and The Hulk at Comic Con.

March 13, 2014March 13, 2014 giselaLeave a comment

Sometimes my job sends me to really random places, and one of those places for four years in a row was Comic Con in San Diego.

When I was assigned the project, I was all this on the outside:

But on the inside, I was all:

Let’s be honest, it’s a total nerd fest, but I’m a total nerd so I felt right at home. I mean, I wasn’t playing “Magic the Gathering” in the corner or taking Klingon-as-a-second-language classes or anything, but I was as dazzled as anyone else entering the entirely overwhelming 615,700 sq. ft. of pure advertising. No longer a convention of comics, this convention had now become Hollywood’s launching pad. Premiere something at Comic Con and the message goes flying to the four corners of the earth as quickly as you can say something in 140 characters.

The first year I went I was pretty impressed with the costumes. I mean…these guys, amiright?

Or this curious looking group:

Or my new friend:

However, what I will never understand is this whole bizarre world of Anime. I’m not judging it, but seriously, I really don’t understand it. It this a cat? A person? A caperson? And does it have a super power?

So whenever I have a few minutes of downtime I roam around the exhibition floor and one time I just sort of stumbled upon the Bill Plympton booth–Bill is a cartoonist who I happened to think is pretty awesome. I chatted with him for a little while, he seemed to like me, and then he drew this for me! I think he captured me pretty well here, right?

As I was about to leave RON JEREMY!! just sort of sidles up and totally crashes my conversation with Bill! Not only did he crash the conversation, but he completely took control of the conversation. And quickly organized an impromptu photo session. He grabbed my phone right out of my hand and had his friend take a photo of he and I together (which I will not be posting because I look pretty horrible in it…and terrified). Then he gave me my phone back and posed with Bill and I snatched this photo.

And then we all chatted for a while like we’d known each other for years. There was talk of drinks and “where’s the party at” which I just kind of stayed out of. More because I couldn’t quite grasp what was happening than anything else. I mean, it was all seriously very bizarre. However, throughout that conversation I learned that Ron Jeremy is actually a pretty nice guy. Maybe he’s not very nice looking, but he’s a nice guy. And Bill Plympton, well, Bill is just all kinds of awesome.

So the moral of the story here is…everyone should go to Comic Con at least once. Because you might run into Ron Jeremy. Or Lou Ferrigno. Who is pretty much the coolest guy in the world. Hulk, indeed, although I think I can take him in an arm wrestling match pretty easy. Probably.

The Time I Became a Graffiti Artist in Berlin

March 11, 2014March 11, 2014 giselaLeave a comment

I’m a big fan of street art, and I always wished I had one single artistic bone in my body, but sadly, this is pretty much the extent of my art skills. Seriously, I like, just drew that. And I was TRYING.

Probably better to leave the whole art thing to the experts, but if those said experts ever want to employ me to help them spread their art, I’m all about it. And this is how I became a graffiti artist for almost two whole minutes.

My friend Alexis Ames is one of those super talented arty people…obviously, I mean look how adorably arty she is!

Before I headed out to Berlin, Lex told me about this really cool place called Kunsthaus Tacheles (Art House Tacheles), originally called: Friedrichsstadtpassagen.

No really: Friedrichsstadtpassagen

It was originally a department store in the Jewish quarter in Berlin, and then sadly it served as a Nazi prison. After World War II it was partially demolished and then after the Berlin Wall came down it was taken over by artists who called it Tacheles, which is Yiddish for “straight talking”. And Germans are nothing, if not straight talkers.

For instance, when we were driving around aimlessly looking for the Berlin Wall, we pulled up to this guy at a stop light and asked for directions to The Wall.

His response: “well, ya, you just have to go straight…back in time about 30 years.”

But I digress. Tacheles was at the top of our list of things to do in Berlin, and Lex gave me a FLYING BUNNY sticker to bring with me and put in as many places as I could. The Flying Bunny is part of Lex’s logo design (see right over there on the right).

The FLYING BUNNY was inspired by her beloved pet, the late Mr. Bun Buns:

So I took The Flying Bunny with me to Tacheles and I totally TAGGED a wall.

All for you Mr. Bun Buns…all for you.

Unfortunately, Tacheles was closed down on September 4, 2012 after fighting the good fight for alternative art for 22 years.

I feel pretty lucky to have seen it before it was gone, and of course I took about a million photos. Here is a little tour through the building…

Me with a gorilla outside in the courtyard:

Enter if you dare:

Jewelry for sale:

This painting both frightens and confuses me:

People posting photos of themselves in support of Tacheles:

My awesome nephew, Greg:

I was a little afraid to touch it.

And of course a super creepy hallway.

So, I would totally say GO HERE, except that there is no longer a HERE to GO…

For Eats: RedFarm

March 10, 2014March 11, 2014 gisela2 Comments

Customer service is truly a lost art in America. Or, at least in Manhattan. And if you’ve ever had the misfortune of having to go to a Duane Reade, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

Everyone that works at Duane Reade is all…

and you’re like…

and they’re like…

So you’re like…

To which they’re like…

Until you finally leave with your overpriced toothpaste and your hair spray feeling all…

That’s why when you stumble upon a place that actually DOES care about their customers, you treasure it and hope that no one discovers it so they can’t take it away from you, except that it’s so great that you also want to tell everyone you know.

Back in late January, my friend and I decided that it was not too late in life to take ballet classes. Adult beginner ballet classes. Because, you know, it’s never too late to become a Prima ballerina. And also, up to this point, I really believed that despite my love of eating, my short legs, and my lack of flexibility, I was always really destined to be a dancer.

Well, friends, that dream is never going to be realized because I looked a lot less like this:

And a lot more like this.

After accepting the cold, hard reality that we will never be cast in swan lake, we decided we deserved a great brunch after the utter humiliation of sadly flailing about in ballet shoes. It was about 10 degrees outside and neither of us wanted to have to go very far, so we settled on a new place that opened up on the upper west side only a few blocks down: the magical RedFarm.

We stumbled in out of the 2nd or 3rd polar vortex (I don’t know, I lost count), and were immediately greeted by the host. It was packed, and we had no reservations, yet somehow they were able to find a spot for us at the communal table pretty quickly. I should note here that we were both in gym cloths, had no make-up on, and looked pretty unfit to be eating at a nice restaurant. Yet…they still welcomed us with open arms.

As I mentioned before, it was bitterly cold and because RedFarm just opened, they hadn’t gotten their “winter door” yet which helps block a lot of the icy air from coming in every time someone enters. So my friend and I were just a little bit cold, but we were okay with it because, well, because wine.

However, the host or owner (not sure which?) noticed us looking a little rough around the edges (and also cold) and DESPITE the fact that the place was totally packed he said, “Girls, I just can’t watch you shivering over here, I’m going to move you to a warmer table.”

I mean?

I wanted to be all like…

And it didn’t stop there! The entire staff, from the hostess to the waiters to the bartender were just…awesome. Points for knowing the menu, points for knowing the wine list and points for making great recommendations–and bonus points for everyone wearing really cool t-shirts. It felt like a cozy neighborhood joint that had been there forever.

Yet, that wasn’t even the best part. The best part was the food. They take Chinese Cuisine to a whole other-worldly level.

I mean, just look at these adorable Pacman inspired dumplings!

And clearly, anything that reminds me of the 80’s is aces in my book.

Also: the mussels with eggplant & okra. ORDER IT.

Also also: this bizarre chicken stuffed with shrimp thing–I cannot figure out how they made it, but AH MAH GAWD.

When you combine excellent service with an inspired menu, it’s well worth the price of admission.

So the next time you poo-poo the Upper West Side for not being as “foodie” as other parts of Manhattan, give RedFarm a try. And then I want you to write me a note thanking me. Because you will. You will totally thank me.

The Time We Coined The Term “Franc-en-shafted”

March 8, 2014March 8, 2014 giselaLeave a comment

Last month, I decided to go on a European road trip with my brother, two of my nephews and my cousin. We like to think of ourselves as “the dream team”…but probably resemble something more along the lines of this.

We landed in the Milano airport and immediately got busy.

Coffee? Check.

Patron XO Cafe? At 8:30am? After an overnight sleepless flight? Sure why not.

Our very loose plan was to land in Milan, drive up to Zurich, then over to Liechtenstein (more on that in another post), then onto to Venice, Florence, Bologna, Rome and then up to Parma through the Tuscan countryside, ending our trip back in Milan.

IN 5 DAYS.

I do not normally like to travel like this—I prefer a nice leisurely pace with time to really absorb my surroundings (preferably a nice lukewarm Caribbean ocean with a fancy drink in hand). But sometimes you have just have to go for it. You have to be the America cliché because you are, for the most part, American.

So we landed in Milan, had some coffee and were on our way. One small glitch: our GPS was set in Russian.

Russian. An alphabet that is, like, totally impossible to work with when you’re desperately trying to search “how do I change the damn language on the GPS when it’s set to Russian” with my limited data roaming plan. (Verizon, you’re the worse.)

GPS OUT, iPhone IN. Our first mission was to leave Milan and head to Zurich. Something I absolutely DID NOT want to do. Why why why would we leave beautiful, wonderful, WARM Italy for the mountains, and cold, and dark, and dreary? WHY WOULD WE DO THAT? I tried my best to convince the dream team to skip the Alps, but I was outnumbered. So I gave in and focused on the photo ops instead.

At the border of Italy and Switzerland you are charged 35 Euros to enter Switzerland. That’s a red flag if I ever did see one. But we resumed blissfully unaware that the Franc-en-shaft had begun.

Around noonish we arrived in Zurich and started looking for places to eat lunch. I looked up some places on yelp and picked the highest rated/cheapest option. Except in Zurich “cheap” means something completely different than what it means for the rest of the entire world.

We find a pub and it’s tiny and cute and the owner seemed like a pretty authentic, rough around the edges kind of guy. Thankfully, my brother speaks German which earned us just a touch more respect than perhaps other American tourists would have. He plopped down menus in front of us, and gave us all of 3 seconds to look it over and figure it out. All the while standing impatiently over us waiting for our order.

When we told him we weren’t ready he gruffly took our drink order. My order went something like this:

“Can I have a glass of the house red wine?”

“WINE. WHITE. OKAY.”

“Ohhh, no…red. Red wine.”

“OKAY. WHITE.”

My brother, laughing, ordered my red wine in German. The owner was not pleased. Did they have an abundance of white wine that he was trying to get rid of?

He came back two minutes later and pulled the menus out of our hands and waited for our orders. Let me repeat that, HE TOOK MY MENU AWAY BEFORE I COULD POINT TO WHAT I WANTED. Which of course left me to place my order in my ridiculous version of German.

“Geschnetzeltes, please.” Yeah. Exactly.

I ordered what is supposed to be the specialty in Zurich, and it looks like this.

It’s chicken (or pork or veal) smothered in a creamy mushroom sauce with what looks/tastes like a hash-brown on the side. And despite myself, and my growing dislike of this pub owner, it was pretty tasty. One side creamy, one side fried—win-win, right?

Our check came out, and was placed gently on the table. Ha, I’m kidding, gentle is not in the German/Swiss vocabulary.

You may or may not know this, but Switzerland is so rich that it never converted to the Euro. They’re all about the Swiss Franc. And because the country is so small, everyone is obviously a millionaire. Because our bill for the cheapest/highest rated pub in Zurich induced this reaction.

So we paid. Yet, still, we shrugged it off because we were ON VACATION! YEAH!

But then we went to get coffee at the Starbucks (Zurich is basically an outdoor mall full of American chain stores set in picturesque surroundings).

And we paid 8 Francs, or $9.20, for a coffee. This, this was the moment we coined the term: FRANC-EN-SHAFTED.

The entirety of our Swiss adventure felt like one big Franc-en-shaft after another.

Our most expensive, most delicious meal at a very expensive restaurant in Rome cost HALF of what a crappy “cheap” pub with terrible service costs in Zurich.

So do GO to Zurich for the photo ops:

But DO NOT eat/stay/drink there. Just turn yourself around and get yourself to Italy stat.

However, if you do decide that you must see the Swiss Alps, because they really are beautiful, you should perhaps brush up on your German:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-_xUIDRxdmc

The Time I Was All Normcore When I Met Henry Cavill

March 7, 2014March 10, 2014 gisela4 Comments

First, we must establish two things:

THIS is Henry Cavill.

And this…is normcore. (Gaaa. So stupid.)

NORMCORE

Since we were talking about Ireland, I thought this would be a good time to bring up the time I swooned like a drooling fool over Henry Cavill. When I was supposed to be interviewing him.

Before arriving on the set of The Tudors, I was told to wear boots because there was going to be a lot of mud.

I live in Manhattan, I don’t own boots that are good in the mud—we don’t have mud, just enormous lakes of melted snow/slush/garbage three feet deep around every sidewalk. But no mud. So I wore my snow boots. Which are utterly hideous. And look like elf shoes. And I wore blue corduroy pants (from the Gap!). And some scarf that I thought was cool, before I realized it had something to do with Palestinians or protests or whatever.

I mean…is this what someone should wear when they are about to meet the second most beautiful man in the world?!

Shhhh, Ryan, it’s okay, I will always love you most.

So this is what I looked like when I met Henry Cavill.

And this is what he looks like.

He walked into the room IN COSTUME, gave me a glorious smile and sat down in the chair in front of me, all ready for his interview. My entire body turned a nice beat red as I made a sad attempt at some small talk while he was getting mic’d up—something like “soooo, how has the day been going? Great great…so…how has the day been going?”

I had my very carefully prepared questions in front of me, which were totally useless. How is a girl expected to read a 12-point font on a white piece of paper when a man dressed like a knight at the round table is sitting in front of her. How, I ask you!

After a few horrendously awkward moments, I finally pulled it together and started asking my questions like a robot reading directly from my list. Then, there was this moment when I actually said something…funny. And he smiled. Nay, he laughed! And all I could think was, “HE THINKS I’M FUNNY! I AM SOOO FUNNY RIGHT NOW!!” And then, of course, I completely lost my place and bumbled around like a fool through the rest of the interview with one part of me desperately wanting it to be over, and the other wanting it to never end.

However, despite my ridiculous behavior I got a great interview from him and he gave me a sweet hug goodbye. (I KNOW!!! I. JUST. DIED.) And that was it. He was gone. And the color faded just ever so slightly from the world around me.

But this is a travel blog, not a homage to my love for Henry Cavill, so here is the travel stuff. A little outside of Dublin, The Tudors shot their outdoor scenes in the countryside, and if you’ve never seen the Irish countryside, you are truly missing out.

This is what it looks like with men on horses galloping around on it.

This is what it looks like when they are surveying the land.

And this is what it looks like when someone sets up a medieval war camp on it…

And of course here are some soldiers…just having a smoke. They had lighters back then, right?

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this: