Springfield, MA

"Oh, you're from Boston?"
"No, no... the forgotten half of Massachusetts, the western half."

It's true, pot holes take longer to fix around these parts and public transportation is worse than L.A. for being the fourth largest city in New England. Though I've never lived in Springfield, I think I have a pretty good sense of the city because my friend and I didn't avoid it.

Way back in the day you'd have to dress up to visit Springfield, but like most manufacturing cities after WWII, it went into decline after deindustrialization:

• 1953: Closing of Indian Motorcycle (America's first motorcycle company)
• 1960's: Closing of Milton-Bradley factory (makers of Chutes & Ladders, Life, etc. board games)
• 1968: Closing of Springfield Armory (primary arsenal during Revolutionary War)

No jobs + rise of drugs in the 1970s = crime, a lot of crime. Springfield is like a U.N. Assembly of gangs, everyone is representin', and of course, why it's generally avoided. I think more so now than then, then as in before the internet blew up. My friend and I knew Springfield was sketchy, but every town or city has those parts, so let's just go? Let's! We went to house parties, shopping, dancing, and eventually, on my own for my first job, then college. Through the years I learned how much history this forgotten city has, and how little it brags about it. If I invented basketball (no lie), birthed Dr. Suess, the American motorcycle, and pulled George Washington (yeah, our country's first president) out of retirement after the American Revolution -- I'd be the loudest mouth in Boston. I would've yelled 'NO!' to the plan that would scar my waterfront with a freeway to reach Boston faster, 'NO!' to nonsensical redevelopment plans (e.g. a huge gym next to a three level Mexican restaurant -- I never got it), and 'NO!' to a casino...

Many in the community were hesitant to bring in more money when the city has a history of organized crime circling back to the local government. On the other hand though, something, anything, had to be done before things got any worse. And they have since back in my day. I just hope MGM doesn't demolish the things that make Springfield cool in my book -- signs of its rebellious, unorthodox, spirit.

Student Prince & Fort Restuarant 
(John Pynchon didn't follow norms and wanted to live in peace with the natives. Alas, he had to build a fort on this site b/c they rebelled... don't you hate it when good intentions royally fail :/ ) 

Princeton, NJ

"You have to get on the Dinky to get to the university." I almost laughed out loud. Had I misheard the station attendant? Nope, it was right there on the rail map, "Dinky". An Ivy League college town that makes no apologies for using Dinky in their vernacular -- we can be friends. And after walking around for fifteen minutes, our destinies were intertwined.

Fátima, Portugal

"Unlimited mimosas*!" This phrase, exclamation and all, implies much about our current state of affairs. How can a drink which includes champagne be poured in unlimited quantities? And why would you want to drink it all day Sunday when you and I probably have to work on Monday? I'm not religious, nor ever have been; still, it makes one question if we need collective restraint and reverence in our lives again. 

In certain parts of the world (hell, even south of the Mason-Dixon line here in the U.S.), Sundays are not an extension of Friday and Saturday night's debauchery, they're reserved for the big man upstairs. Or, if you live in Fátima, the woman who gave birth to his proclaimed son. 

Obidos, Portugal

The simplicity and effectiveness of a wall is pure genius. Whoever decided to stack rocks together to build this thing that separates -- wow*. People go on and on about fire and the wheel, "Man's greatest inventions!" Yeah, I get it. But shouldn't we pay equal respects to the man who said, "Me no like you. Me going to build so me no see you."

During a particularly hellish week at work, an address with an open "office" plan, how I pined for three walls of yes, a cubicle. (Cube farms have their merits, and socialist ones at that.) To me, it makes perfect sense why people are often besotted by crenellated towns. Like warmth and movement, our need to define personal space is primal. Plus, it's just a lot of fun walking on a wall...la dee la.

Koyasan, Japan

In the 10 plus years I've known my friend from college, we've moved a total of six or seven times. It's enough for us to know that it's pointless to jot down the other's address in some meaningful directory. I tried once, and failed. So over the years our own little tradition started to emerge: around birthdays or holidays, one of us will send a desperate text to the other, "Address please!" It's something so small, so insignificant, but both of us relish it. I immediately know she's at the post office (for once grateful for the snaking line) or wrapping a parcel. And I'm sure she envisions the same.

But if you had asked me what I thought of traditions 10 years ago, I would've replied with something like, "Stupid. Change should be the only tradition." Ha! (Was I a highfalutin young fart or what?) Change is freakin' hard. Contrary to my multiple moves, I dread it. Every time I see it galloping towards me I curse my inflexibility to escape like this. I feel traditions ease transitions though because they reorientate the mind, hopefully making change easier to accept. Now this isn't implying that traditions themselves are easy. Some are, some aren't. For example shedding one's clothes and hair before beginning a journey towards enlightenment in this lifetime* -- not easy. Fortunately for the buzz-cut averse the altitude and serenity of Koyasan, the center of Shingon Buddhism, will have you feeling pretty darn close to nirvana.

Nikko, Japan

Not knowing how to begin my post on Nikko, I decided to research what others had to say about it. To my relief, there isn't much out there, and the little there is is repeated in different ways. So why did I waste my time reading tautologies? To use a new word I just learned of course! Now to add mine to the mix, the shrines at Nikko are sumptuous amongst a sumptuous landscape. 

Death Valley Junction, CA

Today I was offered a used iPhone for free. It's in mint condition, yet, I'm conflicted. Holding it in one hand and my dumbphone in the other, I began to compare and wonder about things far beyond its extra weight. If a majority of the population has a smartphone in the future, will we communicate more through images and less with language? Will language matter less and less in a foreign country when I can Google and point to an image of what I'm trying to eat or visit? I wonder how many more pictures the internet has since smartphones? Does the internet really need another travel blog with tons of pictures? Nope, I wasn't exaggerating when I wrote, "far beyond" :)

Seriously though, the internet is practically a Chuck Close painting. It doesn't need a "new" perspective when my perspective has mostly likely been captured and uploaded in the time it takes me to write a post because of my technological deficiency. Consequently, I'm only going to share one image per location. Thankfully you only need one picture to capture Death Valley Junction, its junction, and its main attraction, the Amargosa Hotel. Nope, still not exaggerating.

Salt Lake City, UT

There isn't much to look at from an airplane once the pilot has reached cruising altitude. Though sometimes the heavens have mercy on your Luddite soul (my dumbphone's days are numbered) and the clouds part revealing the heavens below. This has its pros and cons. On one hand you can check off the landmark from your bucket list (e.g. Grand Canyon), on the other hand you may add it. When we flew over Great Salt Lake, I added it.

I could not believe how expansive its salt flats were. On and on in every direction, soon we came to the lake, that too was just as massive. I swear it felt like we were crossing the ocean. I quickly dug out my inflight magazine and flipped to the maps section. Lake Superior looked to be ten or fifteen times the size of Great Salt Lake.  My mind did a barrel roll.

Forks, WA

"Welcome to Forks, and the REST of the Olympic Peninsula!" You can't blame the town for adding this to their website after Twilight. There's even a "Twilight" page directing you to all sorts of haunts (sorry, I couldn't resist), and a "'Guy's List' of fun things to do that aren't Twilight related". Yes, a bit sexist. But what really tickles my funny bone? Forks is a logging town.

Leavenworth, WA

Kitsch, you either love it or loathe it. To my dear two readers, I'm sorry to tell you that I love it and have loved it since I was a wee one. My grandfather introduced me to this fanciful world at an early age. Instead of confessing our sins on Sundays, we undoubtedly committed some by the "antiques" we purchased at the weekly flea market, much to my Mom's dismay. My favourite find was a picture of an African woman made out of butterfly wings. A tad morbid, but whenever I passed it in our hallway I would always pause and wonder. Where the wings from African butterflies? Did they kill the butterflies to make this picture? What's the connection between the African woman and butterflies? I could go on, but I think I've illustrated why I love kitsch. It's the lure of a story behind the absurdity. What then is the story behind the kitschy Bavarian village known as Leavenworth in central Washington?