in paradise/at madiba

Wow... so much to update on. Where to even begin? I guess I'll start with my incredible adventure to the dirty Jerz yesterday. I'm visiting schools for the Robbie program up here, so each Friday I trek out to a few high schools to meet with some overachieving rockstars. But yesterday's trip was special because a) I don't have my car down here any more, so I took NJ Transit (a real live train that runs for the most part ABOVE ground) and b) New Jersey was totally nice! I mean, yes, I did know that the state is not all one huge sewage treatment facility, however, I wasn't expecting it to be SO picturesque and lovely. Maplewood, NJ was a lovely place to be on a fall day. :)

Some restaurant updates, because I ate out not once but TWICE yesterday (that's unheard of, in my book)-- before making my next high school stop at the NYC Lab School, I was in Chelsea and had lunch at this lovely little spot called Paradise Cafe. Sandwiches were great (read: when I bit into mine, a large chunk of avacado fell out, which for me means I automatically love it), the staff was friendly and it just had a really nice, relaxed vibe. The prices were slightly expensive-- what else is new-- but it had garage-door type opening in the front that was rolled up to allow the tables to spill out into the sunlight and the lunch-goers to do some serious people watching. I saw a tiny dog wearing four sneakers, for example. Typical.

But as special as the cafe was, my second eating out experience was extra-super special. Eric and I checked out Madiba, the only (as far as I know) South African restaurant in NYC, conveniently located in Fort Greene, Brooklyn.

Oh. My. God. It was so incredibly delicious.

Madiba was the first South African restaurant in the US and it's got a distinctly ZA vibe as soon as you walk in the door. The interior is decorated to resemble a shebeen, or township bar, and there are South African flags and photos everywhere. We sat outside on their sidewalk seating, which was great because the weather was so warm yesterday. The menu had tons of delicious options that brought back a flood of memories, from baby back ribs with monkey gland sauce (Eric's choice) to a delicious mince meat pie called bobotie (my favorite). Several members of the serving staff were South African Xhosa speakers, so I got to ask our waitress if I was pronouncing the word "umngqushu" on the menu correctly (and I did! it's "umn-gu(click)-shu"). Plus, the true test of a good ethnic restaurant is if people of that ethnicity actually eat there-- and we were surrounded by people clicking away in Xhosa all night. And, the icing on the cake is that part of their proceeds is sent back to South Africa into the Ubuntu Education Fund and the Ethembeni School of the Bli

My absentee ballot came from NC yesterday... so I'm gonna go vote. Woot!

movin' on up

Guess who just found a place to live in posh Prospect Heights? This guy.

After a grueling search (I visited two places), I have finally found the apartment of my dreams. Great location, great building, and (I think) great roommates. The room is tiny but includes a lofted bed, and the rest of the place is huge and nicely decorated with vintage furniture. I think I might paint my room--any color suggestions, my loyal readers?

In other news, I just got a couple story assignments from Duke Magazine, my alumni glossy. I'm profiling a jazz pianist and a male model, which gels nicely with my areas of expertise. 

why I have alice water's card in my bag

Maybe if you’re not a foodie you aren’t familiar with the name Alice Waters (but you should be, regardless). I don’t have the energy to list all of the incredible things she’s done here, but she’s a huge deal in the food world and I got to not only meet her today, but hear her speak for an entire hour as one of just three other people in the room. (!!!) She’s such an incredible visionary and listening to her opinions on everything from getting your kids to eat healthy foods (if they grow it and prepare it, they’ll like it!) to the upcoming election (she told us she talked to Michelle Obama about putting a vegetable garden on the front lawn of the White House) was so interesting. I left feeling really inspired—she has this teeny tiny little voice (and a matching teeny tiny body) but the things she says are so deep. It made me want to run out and buy her book, The Art of Simple Food. And now I’m daydreaming about dining at Chez Panisse (if I ever get out to the West Coast/become filthy rich).

did you just threaten the yaris?

If I read your post correctly, Katie, you threatened that the Yaris had "better last long... OR ELSE." Or else what? You'll waterboard the poor beast? I, for one, think the Yaris deserves your love and affection, not threats.

Now that we've got that important matter cleared up, on to the debate. I agree that it was an underwhelming affair. Mostly because John McCain insists on sticking to his well-worn talking points (clamping down on spending, victory in Iraq, tax-raising liberal communists), rather than engaging Obama on the realities of the country's problems. Many commentators miss the McCain of 2000. Clearly he's a different politician in 2008, but what about the McCain of this year's Republican National Convention? The speech he gave that night was a serious admonition of his own party--have we heard that kind of "straight talk" since then? McCain had the opportunity to change the race by laying out the failures of the Bush administration and staking his claim on a new course for the country. He squandered it. Hard to make a strong case against Bush, I guess, when you're surrounded by former Bush operatives.

But let's get off politics for a second and turn to a more neutral, mixed-company sort of  topic: music. Last night, Katie and I paid a visit to Barbes--a low-lit watering hole in Park Slope--to see guitarists Charlie Hunter and Doug Wamble. In the interest of brevity, some talking points on the show:

• Charlie Hunter's records don't always impress me, but seeing his seven-string in a live setting is whole different animal. Those hands never stop moving.
• I like Doug Wamble--especially his old-timey singing--but he needs to lay off the clean electric. 
• The last time I saw drummer Bill Campbell, he was the focus of a very avant-garde quintet at the Tea Lounge, with lots of wild, dynamic ups and downs. In this setting, he was more subdued, but no less interesting.

And finally, today's Yiddish word of the day is schlep. It means: "to proceed or move especially slowly, tediously, awkwardly, or carelessly." And it's used in this hilarious--but 100 percent inappropriate--Sarah Silverman video.

wife swap

Is anyone else noticing how Cindy and Michelle flip flopped on their political dress colors tonight? I have to say, the sparkly red really becomes Michelle. Cindy in a blue dress suit... eh. I'm ambivalent. 

So Eric, what do you think of tonight's debate? Personally, I was kind of bored. Now, I'm not the most political person ever, and I already know who I'm voting for... so to be truthful, I'm not exactly taking in these debates with an open mind. However, I felt like the amount of voting record back-and-forth between Obama and McCain tonight got annoying. McCain even admitted that he knew that we, "his friends," didn't enjoy hearing the he said/he said tug-of-war (and then went on to do it once again).... I've just heard these voting record attacks one time too many. As an idealistic young person, I did love Obama's shout out to us and his call for individual sacrifice. Nice. 

And now, here's an unrelated shoutout in the form of an internet poem to my boo, Yaris the Caris, back in Rochester... love you baby! Momma misses you!!! 

"Oh little yaris, how I want you sooo bad!
But unlike the rich kids, I can't get you from my dad.*
So I'll work and I'll save and I'll get you some day,
And you better last long, for what I'll have to pay."

*I did, in fact, get my Yaris from my dad (and mom). However, I am not a rich kid. But Yaris, regardless, you'd better last long... OR ELSE. 

What’s up, doc?/The Aveda “Experience”

Unfortunately, I had to visit the doctor last week for a recurring foot problem. After placing a few phone calls to my home doctor/insurance company, I finally got approval to see a podiatrist—but where in this big, big city to go? I don’t really know anyone here who’s seen a podiatrist (because most of my friends aren’t old women/extreme athletes/major klutzes who drop their laptops on their toes), so I wasn’t sure where to start. I decided to hit up Google Maps to see if there were any doctors near my work and ended up finding Grand Central Podiatry. I have to admit, I was nervous about going to a doctor that I had read no reviews on and who was located in a mainly residential building with office hours after 5 p.m. (and who could get me in on the very day I called!). Sketch. But I’m happy to report that I had a really fantastic experience. I was seen by Dr. Roger Hans (his website is hansfeet.com) who was a total pro, even with a really nervous gal like me. And I think my feet problems are finally solved—at least until he finds something else wrong with ‘em and tries to convince me to put lifts in my shoes (I can barely fit my feet in my shoes all by themselves!). So if you’ve got foot issues, I totally recommend this place.

Let’s contrast that to my other appointment last week… my haircut. First of all, I’m a total cheapo when it comes to my hair. No dye, no fancy cuts… I’m a pretty low key hair girl. When I used to live in North Carolina, I’d get my hair cut at the Aveda training institute. I did have friends that had bad experiences there (after all, you are getting your hair cut by students), but I’d always had really good experiences. So I thought, well, if I had good haircuts in a small town in NC, I’m sure the hairdressers at the Aveda school in NYC must be really, really good… right? Uh, no. Let me just give you some highlights… it was my hairdresser’s very first time cutting a paying customer’s hair… she looked through a giant pile of study flashcards before picking up the scissors… and her hands shook the entire time she snipped. I felt totally sorry for her and I really tried to be nice about it (after all, someone had to be her first customer, I guess!), but it wasn’t the best experience ever. I’m thinking next time it might be worth the extra dough to go to a real salon… if you know of any cheap but good places in NYC to get your hair did, let me know!

post (eric's) post

me:

haha. you sound like a huge loser.*

you have no job and you curse strangers out in subway stations

jesus.

who are you?

Eric:
i didn't sign up for this to be belittled!

you're a mean blogger

*Eric isn't really a huge loser. I personally have never witnessed him cursing out anybody, especially strangers (and the reason he "erupted" that one time was completely called for). Plus, he's hot on the trail of a several great jobs. I kiiid, I kiiiid!

A New Yorker? Me?

Hello everyone out there in Internetland. My name is Eric Bishop, and I am a New Yorker.

After four months of living in Brooklyn, it still feels odd to say that. For the majority of my life I've been a Chicagoan, and for the most recent five years--an undergraduate degree and change at Duke--I've been a faux-Southerner. But a New Yorker? Aren't New Yorkers supposed to have dark-rimmed glasses and vaguely ethnic faces and important-sounding jobs? I have none of those things. (Hopefully a job soon, more on that later.) But yes, in June I moved my things up here and started an internship at Esquire. I was living the dream. I'm not sure I was really a New Yorker, though, until late August, when I cursed out a complete stranger in a subway station. Everyone's got their New York Moment--mine just happened to erupt fiercely and publicly, in front of several confused onlookers. 

So here I am, along with my girlfriend Katie. Together, I'd say we make a fine couple of bloggers, inadvertant gentrifiers, still-potent musicians, semi-journalists, absentee voters (NC for Obama, baby) and unlikely New Yorkers. We like it here. I think we'll take our shoes off and stay awhile. 

the next stop is...

Moving to New York City wasn't exactly on my short list of things to do. Having grown up in Rochester, I felt like I'd already done the "New York thing"-- sure, I couldn't see the State of Liberty from my bedroom window growing up, but I felt like I'd checked the Empire State off my list.

But despite my passion for planning, things didn't exactly turn out the way I thought they would. After graduating in May, I moved to Washington while Eric (my co-blogger and partner-in-crime) decided to pursue his journalistic dreams in the Big Apple.

Well. That threw a wrench in the works.

And while I really enjoyed living in DC (more stories to come about that later), I surprised myself by not hating NYC when I'd come to visit. In fact, I completely fell in love with the previously unseen, unexplored and untamed* borough of Brooklyn, where Eric lived. So in August, I sold my things, rented a minivan (with fold-down seats... god I love minivans!) and settled into my new home straddling that fine, delicate line between Crown and Prospect Heights. For the first month, it was kind of hard. But now (I was just telling Eric the other day and he's going to be happy to see that I've actually put it in writing!) I'm starting to come around to it again. Brooklyn's pretty cool. So we're going to write about it.

Now here's my interesting Yiddish fact of the day (after all, we do live in Crown Heights...) did you know that it's actually spelled "farklempt" and not "verklempt"? As in, "Just the thought of my dear old dog Sammy is making me all farklempt." Oi! I had no idea!

*by me