The World is a Crazy Place

Lately, I've been thinking about the universe and all the things in it and hot dogs and German toast. Und I realized like every other tawdry poofter who takes the time to smell the hibiscus shrub just how crazy this place truly is. It made me happy and slightly crazy.

The first evidence of this madness popped up in a YouTube related search to something involving Turkish bath houses and vitriolic acids, subjects that I often find myself researching at work. From what I gather, a place in Uzbekistan near the small town of Darvaz is popularly known as "The Door to Hell," and it's easy to see where it gets its sinister name. The story attributed to this Hellish portal goes as such: While drilling for gas, geologists discovered a massive underground cavern filled with gas. To prevent the poisonous gas from escaping the hole, they...ignited it. Logic notwithstanding, the fire has been burning brightly ever since - for well over 30 years. I recall that I once wrote a post on the abandoned eternally burning town of Centralia, Pennsylvania, where people actually still live despite the dangers of the unstable ground. Creepy!

This next instance of world-poppycock is found in Russia. Large holes in the ground of Russian forests have been discovered, but leave no explanation to what they might be. Though I think this might be a hoax or an easy explainable phenomenon, one of the comments added to the story had this theory to offer:

Another interesting detail posted in the comments is that the holes seemed to have been dug from the bottom up, not downwards. Some commentors suggested that these holes could be tree holes, which are created when volcanic ash settles around a tree, hardens, and becomes the hole you see here. Others have suggested that the holes are chimney entrances tino caves.

I say they're chamberpots for the gods. Mysterious holes, indeed.



While I love what Mother Nature and divine beings have done with the place, humankind has really gone above and beyond as explorers and creative inventors. One in particular, photographer Arthur Mole, added another chapter to human achievement by arranging and photographing large masses of living bodies to create national and religious symbols, such as the side profile of Woodrow Wilson seen below.



It's a bit off from the general theme here, but still shows how random the world can be: Check out these Houses in Remote Places. I'm not sure how long I'd last living in any of these secluded places, but to simply visit would be a fantastic break from the chaos of the city.

There are so many more bizarre going-ons out there - from insanely beautiful subways (My commute would be so much better if New York's system followed example) to abandoned cities - but I leave off with a personal experience: On the final day of my trip to Boston, Scott and I arrived early at Bay Station for the bus back to New York City. While he was using the restroom, an older man with nose hairs so long I mistook them for his moustache, approached me and asked, "Are you an actor?" My ego immediately perked up and I blushed, but kindly told him I wasn't. "Are you from New York City?" Ah, my ego chimed in again, just like in movies and tv shows, where people from the big city are mistook for attractive actors and models. "Do you know Macauley Culkin?" Sensing the conversation was taking a turn for the worse, I shook my head - but this didn't effectively kill the conversation. He rambled on with two completely unrelated tangents, paused suddenly, and then said, "Oh, well, I thought I saw you walking around with him last year in the city." Speechless. "Okay, well, anyways, just wondering if you had some spare change for a coffee. Bye!"

As he lumbered off, Scott returned and we sat in silence for a little before I retold my bizarre experience that took place just seconds before. Such an insignificant event, yet that small interaction stuck with me. People are just fascinating and whether he was just trying to talk me up for some kleingeld or actually attempting to stimulate thoughtful conversation (that I was just not having at the time), I'll probably never see him again. I meet so many people in the world everyday and discover so many interesting stories simply sitting here in my office chair at home. The world is truly a crazy place!

Me and King Cole

Christmas is in full swing here at 2FinCool on Cooper Street, Brooklyn: Thanks to the work of the recent snowstorm, my neighborhood of Bushwick looks like something from a Christmas card, while the snow has effectively muted passing cars blasting Latin music on the street below. The blustering cold outside did not deter me from setting out this weekend, however, as Scott and I ventured out deep into Brooklyn to get our craft-on. After eating a hearty meal on the cheap at La Flor del Paraiso on Atlantic Avenue, we sloshed our way to the Brooklyn Lyceum Craft Market. I had figured the event would be much like the Degenerate Craft Fair we had stopped by a week earlier - a cramped space with overpriced hipster artwork and desperate vendors. (I still think the one guilt tripped Scott into buying a photocopied one-dollar bill.)

Upon entering the toasty brick warehouse, I was surprised to see so many tables of unique crafts and free tastings of homemade foods. I especially enjoyed the blackberry peach jam from anarchy in a jar and the bitter sweet chocolate from Fine & Raw. Though a bit overpriced, the adorable handmade plush stuffed animals from Zooguu seemed to be a popular table. (I wanted the fat purple penguin, personally.) I left the event empty-handed, while Scott left with soft smooth hands smelling of lavender, thanks to a particularly forward soap vendor who allowed samples "just to touch cute guys." So help me, soap lady, I will rub Dove into your eyes.




Before we even made it to the event, we stopped by the dig garden shop and met two very nice gentlemen, the younger of the pair who had originally went to school for dance, but since became interested in the field of botany. I asked about a particularly ominous-looking plant whose dangling appendages resembled giant lima beans with an opening at the top. The older man told me it was actually a carnivorous species - I don't recall the name - that created a certain aphrodisiacal secretion in its sack, inticing flies to enter and fall into the sticky goo.

Not wanting to end our evening there, we took the L to 14th Street to see the tents erected for the Union Square Holiday Market. Scott bought me a delicious Viking Burger and a tasty chocolate-dipped belgian waffle from wafels & dinges. By far my favorite find at the Market, the hand-carved figurines at Mure Design were not only eye-catching for their many shapes - peace cranes, alligators, owls, etc. - but also for the material from which they were made. Tagua, a dried nut that is cultivated mainly in Ecuador, has the texture and look of ivory, and is often even called "vegetable ivory." I especially like this idea as it provides an alternative to killing elephants for their tusks and destorying rainforests for farming purposes.

Time lapse!

A weekend of fun, cut short by a cruel Monday and a train ride back to Blairsville, Pennsylvania. Though I've just boarded the train at Penn Station, I miss New York already. Yet, I'm glad to know that I got the most out of Christmas in the city, from the Chinese-Italian-Jewish parade in Chinatown to simply decorating my apartment with some festive garland and multicolored lights, this holiday has already turned out better than most others. For now, I look forward to napkin origami, the 2008 Best Travel Essay series selected by Anthony Bourdain and a good Christmas Day with the whole family.

Word, Mot, Wort

December 15th marked the birthday of L.L. Zamenhof. creator of the international language known as Esperanto, and would've-been proud winner of the 1859 freestyle beard contest. I know this because Google told me so and because, recently, I came across a similarly linked, extraordinary find during my last StumbleUpon binge, which I'll explain in a Prisencolinensinainciusol minute.

Language is fascinating to me. I have no idea why - how people speak, how they interact with each other, and how powerful words can be in any language is just a wonder. In my Junior year of college, in what could have only been a NyQuil-soaked night as I battled my insomnia and prepared for my roommate to arrive at four in the morning to begin his ritual A.M. pot cleaning, I devised in my head a plan to create a universal language. Whether it was to foster peace, achieve fame or simply to appease the Biblical demons that were dancing on my desklamp at the time, I was going to be the first person to combine the Arabic, French, German, Japanese, and Russian languages. I decided, as the new benevolent dictator of dialect, to allow the Spanish to keep their silly dead language.

But damned be those born before me. I had not even two years to begin my project when I found that someone, a certain Adriano Celantano, managed to time travel to my sophomore year, steal my idea, and whisk it back to 1972, whereupon he created this acid-dipped masterpiece, called Prisencolinensinainciusol, a musical examination of how English sounds to Europeans. Not exactly my idea, but close enough to smack the bastard with a posthumous copyright infringement suit. Click that crazy word and prepare to have your mind obliterated. (I've learned most of the dance moves, because I am groovy.)

Speaking of speaking and December highlights, I was disappointed when I realized I didn't commemorate a certain event on the third of December, the date Madeline Kahn passed away in 1999. Unfortunately, what reminded me of this was the grim news of Brittany Murphy's death. While she might've not been as epic as the Kahn, I thought she was a fantastic actress and it's sad to think she was taken away at such a young age. On those same lines, I anticipate a very teary and excellent Dr. Parnassus, Heath Ledger's final movie, coming out this Christmas. Suck it, you Avatar-lovers.

Puttin' On The Ritz at the Hilton Hotel

A year ago, I would've never dreamed of moving to New York City, but here I am, several months in and already wrapping up my internship at Family Travel Forum. As tits as it has been, I'm ready to dive headfirst into the travel industry and I'm hoping for a snag or two on some lines I cast out to various PR contacts in the travel world. The fun has all but stopped, however, as I was recently invited to the New York Hilton's exclusive Vogue event, featuring two newly renovated spaces, the Grand Trianon and Mercury ballrooms. The entertainment itself was a highlight of the venue - a man dressed in a silver sequined suit slowly revolved cat-like in the center of the room, as handsome waiters performed acrobatic tricks on pogo-legs (I call them "Gazelle Legs") and a Geisha-faced wig-adorned waitress surrounded by a table waded slowly into the crowd offering hors d'ouerves. Four distinct food tables offered everything from excellent sushi to my personal favorite, pulled pork barbeque, while the former even displayed a large pagoda-shaped ice sculpture. Along with the massive chandeliers dangling overhead and the spectacular light show that danced every which way over the high walls and ceilings, I thought my visit to the Hilton couldn't get any better - until I saw my room.

From the 31st floor, I could peer out into the city streets far below, which were prettily decorated here and there with twinkling Christmas lights and trees. Just down the street, the neon Radio City Hall marquee cast off an electric pink glow, while buildings across the way were simply pretty just for their architectural elegance and accidental patchwork of office lights here and there. After enjoying the complimentary bottle of Champagne and exploring the massive business meeting spaces throughout the hotel's lower levels, I sank into the almost sinfully comfortable bed and fell asleep the minute my head hit the pillow. As for the noise? From my lofty penthouse (or at least that's what I pretended it was), the clamor from the streets below was faint and could barely be heard over the hotel's air system, making for a very peaceful sleep.

My stay at the Hilton was quite an affair to remember - On my scale of event quality, I gave this one the top rating of "ritzy."