Tag: Travel

Catching Up: Random.

Those are the main things, of late. but let’s see: what else can I tell you? Well, after many years back in the workforce, and freelancing when I can — gradual school: kids, don’t do it — I’ve been able to extricate myself at last from the usual post-grad pit of penury and get back in black. Of course, retirement is only 25-30 years away now, so…

I’ve been getting into stocks. And quite frankly, 18 months in, I’ve been pretty lousy at it. Basically, my rules are thus: (1) I figure indexing and ETFs are the smart plays, and where the bulk of my savings should go. (2) I’m a buy-and-hold and a long — I want to invest, not trade. (3) I’d rather not profit from evil, so no oil/gas companies or investment banks or the like. And (4) I should try to invest at least some in individual companies for a greater return while I’m still decades out from retirement.

Sounds like a plan. But, so far, buying SunEdison (nee SUNE, now SUNEQ) was an out-and-out disaster — thankfully, I got out a few months before the final collapse. That hasn’t helped the solar ETF (TAN) either. And of the twenty or so stocks I’m currently holding, a good handful of them are just dogs: I’m looking at you, Twitter (TWTR), Fireeye (FEYE), and Teladoc (TDOC). (On the flip-side, my best picks so far are ATVI (Activision), Adidas (ADDYY), and Intuitive Surgical (ISRG).)

Anyway, I’m probably boring you with all this. (I also presume getting more into the markets is a general aging thing — just wait until this turns into a golf, tennis, and back-pain blog.) But, I thought I’d mention it, since, while this isn’t going to be Seeking Alpha anytime soon, I may be inclined to post more Wall street-type stuff here in the future.

But, just in case you’re thinking GitM has put away childish things…



I’ve started collecting Funkos. Or “Pop Vinyls,” as the case may be, since Funko puts out a number of different products. In any event, long-time readers may recall I was a toy collector of sorts before taking the graduate school vow of poverty. Now that I’ve emerged out the other side, I’m free to indulge anew. (Within reason, of course: I may be on the lookout for an in-the-wild Lando, Bossk, Rorschach, or Dark Phoenix, but you’re not going to see me buying the Jupiter Ascending, Tomorrowland, Napoleon Dynamite or Family Guy sets anytime soon. That would be crazy.)

One additional boon of Funko-buying, besides it scratching that old Star Wars figure itch: It really adds structure to your mall-crawls. For decades, I’ve been like, eh, these stores are all boring. Now, I’m all “hey, this mall has a Hot Topic, a Gamestop, and an FYE. To arms!

I’m upping my travel game. Conspicuous consumption can’t all be about plastic figurines — We don’t have enough shelves for that! And especially since Amy’s work has her on-the-road quite often, and she’s become a miles-and-hotel-points ninja along the way, we’ve been working to hit the road more often. (That’s me in Dublin and Dijon above, last November and June respectively.)

Next big trip: our honeymoon, which will include a week+ in Vietnam (probably doing Ho Chi Minh City and Da Nang/Hue/Hoi An, while leaving Hanoi and Halong Bay for a future trip) and a week+ in Japan (Tokyo, Mt. Fuji, Osaka/Kyoto, and possibly Hiroshima). If you have any travel suggestions, feel free to drop them in the comments.

Otherwise, life continues much as it has this past age, for which I’m very thankful.

I saw Weiner, The Lobster, and The Witch over the long weekend, all worth seeing for different reasons. I’ve been picking up new shows in Mr. Robot and Preacher, while keeping up with Game of Thrones, Better Call Saul, The Flash, and the like.

Since Arkham Knight and Fallout 4 are done, and my rogue is all kitted out and waiting for Legion, most of my gaming time these days involves Hearthstone (great for the walk home) and the recently-released Overwatch, a.k.a. Blizzard’s stab at Team Fortress 2. (I mostly play Reaper, even if my name — Jacklowry — isn’t all that Reaper-ish.)

Nope, life is good. Very good. The only real issues these days are the general dismal state of politics, rampant inequality and poverty, encroaching climate change, etc., but those are issues for the rest of the blog.

August Recess.

Hello all. No, GitM’s not dead. As per several Augusts past, I’ve spent the past few weeks on August recess, confining my thoughts on the various nightmares unfolding in Ferguson, Gaza, Iraq, etc. to 140 characters on Twitter and Facebook.

In the meantime, my girlfriend Amy and I have been getting in lots of travel this month — first a long weekend in New Orleans where, among other things, I for the first time took in the French quarter, Frenchman St., and the future final resting place of thespian and scholar Nicolas Cage.

A fortnight later, we were off to Iberia for a stretch, with four and a half days in Barcelona and Lisbon each (with a brief, three-hour layover tour through Brussels — alas, we didn’t have time to visit my old stomping grounds of Waterloo.)

August is probably not the best time to visit Barcelona — it was as crowded as Times Square at times, on much narrower streets. Still, it’s an amazing World City, and Gaudi’s unfinished Sagrada Familia is like nothing you’ll see anywhere else in this system. Very highly recommended (although, again, perhaps not in August.)

By comparison, Lisbon and its dozens of ancient churches was more of a sleepy European capital. But it too had its charms, not the least Sintra and its ninth century Moorish castle, only an hour or so away by train.

In any event, if you want to peruse some photos from the trip (and aren’t already a Facebook friend), I’ve put three dozen or so up in the long-neglected Flickr feed. Suffice to say, a grand time was had!

Things I Learned in the BVI.

As two eagle-eyed sidebar surfers seem to have already discovered, I finally put up a smattering of pics from my recent sailing excursion in the British Virgin Islands. (That’s me above, jumping off the bow of our chartered boat, Searider, just off the coast of Jost Van Dyke.) In lieu of a day-by-day overview of our adventures, I’ll just make a few observations which may or may not be of interest to those heading out yonder way.

1. The actual sailing was good fun, but also a bit more rigorous at times than I anticipated. And if you don’t have someone on board who knows what they’re doing, there could be trouble. As the saying goes, “anyone can hold the helm when the sea is calm,” and that was basically true for the first half of our trip. But there were definitely a few days on the back end when the winds and the swells kicked up, and I was very glad we had two seasoned sailors (as well as a Coastie) on board to commandeer the ship. I mean, I can turn a winch or pull a rope as well as the next guy, but the actual boat handling during highly variable and/or gusty winds never really felt intuitive to me. Let’s just say, when it comes to captaining nautical vessels, I think I still prefer my boats oar-powered.

2. Admittedly, extended time on Kauai will turn you into a snorkel snob. Still, while we didn’t see much in the way of spectacular, blow-your-mind reefs, we had really great luck with the local fauna. Turtles abounded, including one barnacle-covered fellow who’d probably seen a few decades. Several rays were spotted at various times, as well as a dolphin (seen from the ship), a barracuda (he camped out under the boat for an afternoon), and, for those who dove, even some members of the shark persuasion. Above ground, a few of the islands were home to feral goats, and every bay we anchored in had more than a few pelicans feasting well. (And if you stop at Little Harbour, bring extra lunchmeats for the hungry dock-daschund.)

3. While clearly less populated than their US counterparts — you can tell that just from their respective nighttime glows — the British Virgin Islands are not particularly British. Although, that being said, they do have roundabouts in Roadtown, as well as the occasional English candy options here and there — Sadly, no Bassetts’ Wine Gums, tho’. (This may not seem important, but it is. Since my English kindergarten days, I’ve been a bit of a wine gum fiend.)

4. Speaking of midnight glow, I always tend to forget, after spending the last 17 years in the East Coast megalopolis of BosWash, how breathtaking the nighttime sky still is in the dark places of the world. One of my personal highlights of the whole experience. (In related news, I really need to brush up on my constellations.)

5. If you want to get the authentic Caribbean pirate experience in the BVI, then head to Norman Island and stop at Pirates’ Bight. Because, trust me, you will end up feeling totally robbed. In general, a lot of the hyped places in the guides were overpriced, underserviced tourist traps — Saba Rock near Virgin Gorda was another — which eventually prompted a lot of jokes among the crew about the “Comcast Virgin Islands.” But the Bight was far and away the worst — come for the sticker shock, stay for the microwave wings and world’s most ornery parrot. (That poor, miserable bastid was a living, breathing, screeching PETA commercial.)

6. Now, that being said, one island haunt that *did* live up to the hype was the much-touted Foxy’s in Great Harbour, Jost van Dyke. After getting burned a few times in the early going (see above), we went to this night spot with rather low expectations. But Foxy’s actually delivered on the local flavor, Caribbean rhythms, and Cocktail-ish beach bar ambience it promised. (The co-ed, drunken gaggle of 40 or so French sailors having their Spring Regatta farewell party may have helped. Good lookin’ people, the French.)

7. If #5 didn’t make the point above, I strongly advise trying to find mooring or anchoring spots off the beaten path. In fact, one of our generally-agreed-upon favorite stops on the trip was just around the corner from the aforementioned Bight. I’d tell you exactly, but then I’d be making the mistake in The Beach. (Granted, some folks may be wired differently than me on this front. One of the more bustling places we stopped at to resupply was The Bitter End, a luxury resort on Virgin Gorda. Well, ok, but I don’t know why you venture all the way out to BVI just to approximate the experience of Hilton Head. But don’t mind me — I’ve been getting more Mosquito Coast-y in recent years.)

8. If you’re enjoying a nighttime campfire on a small island covered with dry wood, brush and other highly flammable material, and the notion strikes you to go all Survivor or Lord of the Flies and make yourself a torch, do NOT use one of your cheap athletic socks in said torch’s construction. Because, for whatever reason, athletic socks apparently explode more than they burn, and watching dozens of tiny embers of flaming nylon or polyester or whatever float away and scatter all over a very arid paradise in the middle of the night is not a happy moment. Just sayin’.

9. Similarly, if you’re a right-wing billionaire who, when not giving millions to the Republican Party or funding Creationist “research”, up and decide to buy yourself a private island, and on that private island, overlooking the, uh, White Bay, you call your exclusive private resort the, um, “Eagle’s Nest“…well, let’s just say the optics aren’t too good. (Nice beach, tho’.)

10. As Herman Melville once wrote, “At sea a fellow comes out. Salt water is like wine, in that respect.” And fellowship was in no short supply aboard the Searider. I think it’s safe to say we all had a great time — yes, even at the Bight — and made some memories to last a lifetime. So if you do head out for your own sailing adventure, bring sunscreen, somebody with sailing experience, some extra turkey for the dock-daschund, and, most importantly some interesting folks and old, good friends along with you. You won’t regret it.

Yo Ho, Yo Ho, A Pirate’s Life for Me.

Well, friends, I’m afraid y’all are on your own for Clash of the Titans (altho’, FYI, I hear the 3D is a scam, and was added after the film was in the can.) ‘Cause, as of tomorrow morning, I and a group of good friends — all in need of a grand vacation — will be disappearing off the grid, Mosquito Coast-style, for the next ten days or so.

To wit, we’re chartering a 40-ft boat in the Caribbean and sailing ’round the British Virgin Islands for a spell. (Being of the landlubber persuasion, Berk will be holding down the fort in my absence.) So, assuming I don’t go native and learn to live without all these newfangled wired contraptions, see y’all in a fortnight or so — and apologies, me hearties, if those next few logs in the journal be all pirate-y and such…

Update: Well, I’m back, and, indeed, much fun was had — I’ll put up a separate post on the trip once I’ve gotten some pictures back. (My camera was a casualty of the seas, so my boatmates are providing the pics and scanning my salvaged memory card.)

On the Down Low.


This post should really go out next week, as the book drops next Tuesday, April 6th. But I won’t be around next week (more on that soon), and if I post it tomorrow, y’all might think I’m joking. In any case, Grounded, a tale of travel without planes and the first book by Slate writer (and good friend) Seth Stevenson, will soon be available in a store near you, and I’d suggest picking up a copy. Seth’s a fun, witty guy, and he’s grounded in all the best senses of the term. (And if you like the general tone here at GitM, my guess is you’ll probably cotton to his voice too.) Buy it here or here or even here.

Where Smart is Fun!

Hey y’all. Sorry about the lack of updates this past week. Along with the MySql database acting more squirrelly (MySqlly?) than usual around here, I just recently returned from a weekend down in my old home state of South Carolina, where I and several other alumni of various ages were helping to mark the 20th anniversary of my (charter residential) high school, the South Carolina Governor’s School of Science and Math.

While still located in the tiny and remote hamlet of Hartsville — a friendly place, but the very definition of a one-horse town — SCGSSM seems to have done quite well for itself over the fifteen years since my class graduated, back when it was still a relatively unknown quantity in the state. Namely, the school has procured an impressive and gimongous new facility just off the Coker College campus where we once kicked around. (I’d begrudge the younger classes their state-of-the-art complex more, if I weren’t slightly relieved that the Class of ’93 never had to deal with all the security cameras now on premises — it’d have really cut down on all the shenanigans.) And GSSM — which is soon to expand from 150 to 300 students — has managed to retain many of the great PhDs on faculty there, including most of my favorite teachers back in the day. (It was particularly great to see Dr. Hendrick, the history professor who played no small part in encouraging me down my current path, science and math be damned, and who remains a beacon of progressivism in the otherwise right-leaning Pee Dee environs.)

At any rate, if I have any quibble with the direction SCGSSM has taken since my own time in “the Fishbowl,” it’s probably the goofy school marketing slogan they’ve chosen for themselves of late, which apparently now festoons billboards all over the Palmetto State: “Where Smart is Fun.” To my mind, not only does this sound needlessly defensive, like GSSM is some sort of “Professor Xavier’s School for Gifted Mutants“-type asylum, designed to protect Carolina’s meek and brainy from the reactionary hordes that despise them, but — at least in my own humble experience — Smart is Fun pretty much everywhere…or, at least, it’s more fun than the alternative.

Events and Anniversaries.

A hearty congrats and best wishes to grad school friends Ben and Vivian (he of The Oak) on their nuptials this past Saturday at the scenic Brazilian Room in Tilden Park, high above Berkeley, California. (I was in attendance, but otherwise didn’t have much of a chance to take in the Bay Area this trip. I’ll be back soon, tho’, as Hiram Johnson and I still have some unfinished business.) Also, a very happy birthday to my mother, who turned 60 on Saturday. (And, really, what says “I love you, Mom” more than an alarm clock that speaks in the dulcet tones of Stephen Fry?) Finally — not that it’s anyone’s business, but it’s important to me — today marks the one-year anniversary of a crushingly bad break-up, after which it’s safe to say life took on a decidedly negative turn. But, hey, the earth has gone around the sun once more, I’m still standing, with my health and lil’ Berk in tow, and GitM lingers on. So, onward and upward…Now back to your regular fanboy musings and progressive diatribes.

Go Baby Go.

A hearty congrats and best wishes to high-school friend Steve and his lovely new bride Alicia as they begin their journey down the road of marital bliss. I was privileged to attend their nuptials this past weekend in the Ken-tuck-ee province, city of Louisville — “home of the Kentucky Derby and Hunter S. Thompson,” according to my US Air pilot — and it was grand fun. (Our revelry, also a mini-high school reunion of sorts, was probably more in keeping with the spirit of the late Good Doctor…the phrase “alcohol-soaked” comes to mind. That being said, I did manage while there to visit world-famous Churchill Downs long enough to lose ten bucks on what I thought was an aptly-named horse…sigh, you let me down, obiwankenobi, even if the city of Louisville did not.)

Back on the Eastside.

After a really lousy Continental flight that involved screaming kids, spilled Cokes, and an unscheduled refueling detour to Pittsburgh, I’m back from Seattle and once again on NYC time (some pics of my trip can be found here.) With the aid of high-school, college, and grad-school friends, I was able to explore a good bit of the city — downtown, Belltown, Ballard, W. Seattle, Fremont, Snoqualmie, Capitol Hill — and all-in-all I was quite favorably impressed. Seattle seemed driving-intensive, but then again, where, outside of New York and a tiny handful of other cities, isn’t? At any rate, much fun was had, and hopefully I’ll make it back out to the Pacific Northwest sometime in due course.