Another stroll through some of (but by no means all of) my favorite places in New York City, this time spread out across Brooklyn, Manhattan, and The Bronx (we’ll get to you, Queens; as for Staten Island, I’ll see what I can do). Another of the many things I like about this city — and really, about most places — is that it’s basically one big, open-air museum. Between free exhibits and things that are just on the street there to be witnessed, you can take in a tremendous amount of history, both mainstream and obscure, simply by doing a little research and walking down the block.
I have a new Frolic Afield up at my usual corner on Alcohol Professor. In a rare moment of timeliness, The Bar that Launched Pride is a look at the history of the Stonewall Inn and how a scummy shithole of a bar that blackmailed its gay customers became the rallying point for and birthplace of the LGBT rights movement in America.
Where does our Frolic Afield take us to this week? To Bardstown, Kentucky, by way of Alcohol Professor. Bottled History is a look at my visit to the Oscar Getz Museum of Whiskey History. From bottles of old Coon Hollow to a still they claim belonged to George Washington, it’s a fascinating — and free — look at the history of my favorite tipple told by an amazing assortment of artifacts.
I walk a lot. Because I am cheap, and because New York is a city that rewards the walker. I walk a lot and take a lot of pictures, because this is also a city that changes with a breathless, frighteningly rapid pace. Sometimes for the best, sometimes for the worse, but either way what once was probably won’t be for long, so you can always stick around for the next iteration if you don’t like what you see today. So here’s thirty scenes, photographed with no particular skill on my part, in Manhattan and Brooklyn.
Over at my other home on Alcohol Professor, I’m spinning the tale of the rise and fall and rise of the American hotel bar and cocktail culture. Or rather, in Cocktail History: American Hotel Bars, I am writing about “Rediscovering the American Hotel Bar,” a Manhattan Cocktail Classic event in which Rene Hidalgo, head bartender at the Iroquois Hotel’s Lantern’s Keep, recounted the history of hotel bars to us while serving an awful lot of really good illustrative cocktails.
It’s time for a Kentucky Derby Frolic Afield. I’m back on Alcohol Professor, and in An Urban Bourbon Trail Through History I’m taking y’all on a tour of Louisville’s three most historic hotels: The Brown, The Galt House, and The Seelbach. Or, more accurately, I’m taking you on a tour of their bars. Special guest stars Abraham Lincoln, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and the hot brown.
The approach to the airport was through a maze of vertical green walls, mountains covered in foliage of the most brilliant green. The runway was short and ended at a river where people were busily tending to their laundry, as unconcerned over the approaching plane as was the air traffic controller, who was reclining on a bench outside the ramshackle terminal building. Dominica is not the Caribbean island you want to come to if you crave white sand beaches, clear turquoise waters, sprawling resort enclaves, or opulent amenities.
Our luck with volcanos had been disappointing. Mt. St. Helens, Mt. Hood, Mt. Rainier — they had all veiled themselves coyly behind a impenetrable curtain of mist and rain and gale force winds that rendered seeing them, let alone hiking them, a fool’s errand. Yet again and again we tried. AT Crater Lake we expected finally to be rewarded for our perseverance. It was sunny and 70 degrees when we began the winding ascent up to the lake itself. It was 25, snowy, and covered in fog when we reached the top. Turned away by closed roads and regretful park rangers, we descended the mountain, and found once again at the base it was a gorgeous day, the sky dappled with dramatic clouds and slants of warming orange sunlight.
We set out without any clear destination. Somewhere south of needing our passports, all precipitated by the simple desire to eat a hot dog. Roads were followed, state borders passed. From city to mountains to rolling hills, in observation of the living and the dead. Images from a drive through Connecticut, Rhode Island, Boston, the Sam Adams Brewery, Finger Lakes Distilling, and upstate New York, taking in everything from the grave of HP Lovecraft to Fort Ticonderoga to the House of Frankenstein Wax Museum, and plenty in between.
Across the bay from downtown Sydney you will find the not-so-sleepy town of Manly. It’s good for surfing, good for seafood, and has the best hike in the Sydney metro area — which may sound odd, but Australia is a wild place, and even in the middle of a city, you can find yourself in the middle of nowhere with no one else around. The best way to do this in Manly is to follow Manly’s network of trails, which will lead you from beach town to beaches, then up coastal cliffs to tangled woods, rolling grasslands, the ruins of World War II gunnery stations, and swamps full of thousands of thousands of frogs (actually probably hundreds, but they make enough noise for thousands).