When Marissa and I first started dating, I always wanted to go out for exotic meals. Marissa liked her Rodeo Bar burgers or Cinema Restaurant salads. She was not the most adventurous eater. I liked Marissa, so I was worried. A girl’s interest in food had been a deal-breaker before. I had once gone on a date with a vegetarian to my favorite restaurant and after realizing that I couldn’t order my go-to dishes, there was no second date. I couldn’t allow Marissa’s diet of burgers and salad to stand in our way. So I devised a game. Read more
One of my more popular posts on this site is about the Tiger Kingdom in Thailand. Guests to the Kingdom pay good money to stand in a cage with these incredible beasts. But controversy surrounds the experience. Some argue that the tigers are drugged; others believe the claims of the Tiger Kingdom, which states that drugs are never used on these animals. (You can read that post’s comment section to get a sense of the conflict.) After swimming with dolphins in the Bahamas, I realized that the comment section of this post might fill up with similar feedback from those who dream of swimming with these majestic creatures to those who consider the experience exploitive of mammals that belong in the wild. (If you do have an opinion, I implore you to leave your comments.) Read more
“Oh, we must see the restaurant where Gwinny uncoupled,” said the writer who covers celebrities. He was one of my travel companions on my recent trip to the Bahamas. “I must eat exactly what she had and I want to take pictures of the table.” He was quite excited about this Gwinny and this restaurant and this meal and this uncoupling, which was a term I had never heard applied to the kitchen.
Was Gwinny just another celebrity chef? I wondered. Had she discovered a new technique for the uncoupling of oyster shells, perhaps, assuaging the stress on the little body inside, keeping the meat even more delicious? But, no, he had said that Gwinny ordered a meal. I was confused and tired of trying to figure this out. Read more
Whenever I visit Toronto, the shit always hits the fan. Whether Mayor Ford is sampling crack or a G-20 summit leads to riots on the street, I still always manage to have a great time. I want you to have the best time, too. While the New York Times will give you 36 hours in one place, we at Somewhere Or Bust give you 37. Without further ado, for the best things to do in Toronto over a weekend here’s how to spend those 37 hours. (Since the New York Times’ 36 Hours never adds up to a day and a half, neither will this, if you’re keeping score at home.) Read more
A few years ago, my wife, Marissa, surprised me with tickets to Puerto Rico for Valentine’s Day and dubbed it a “romantic weekend getaway.” As a surfer, I was conflicted: I questioned if I should bring my board. I had surfed Puerto Rico before. Did I really need to bring my board down on our “romantic weekend getaway”? Would it be the equivalent of a cad making February 14th dinner reservations for himself, his wife, and his mistress?