All stories about "Andrew Evans"

Everyday on Gridskipper we give you a new map. Some are new, some are fetched from our archive, newly updated. Happy Gridskipping. Washington DC is a middle-class town filled with middle-class tastes. That explains the 45 minute wait at the Cheesecake Factory and why chicken fried steak is a daily special every day, everywhere. But what if you're making money in this town? And you wanna blow loads of cash? On food that means something? Where can you go? Wealthy Washingtonians usually skip town for the glamours of the Inn at Little Washington, which twice made it to Forbes' list of the Top Ten Most Expensive Restaurants in World. Otherwise, petit bourgeois get their inner peace at the following venues, where price matters as much as taste. Any restaurant that you can walk out of without dropping a hundred bucks doesn't make the cut. (photo)

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Blogs define the undefinable -- that's why they're blogs and not logs or frogs. Monsieur, you might ask, mais, qu'est-ce que c'est le gridskipping? Indeed, all these years and nobody's had the balls to just ask. Is it because Gridskipper is a loan word that only cool, edumacated people know and practice, or is it because just like the word zeitgeist, gridskipping is nothing more than a zeitgeist for a generation of jaded travelers? Someday, when Martian archeologists are dusting nuclear fallout dust from our petrified servers and piecing together the human spirit for a touching museum exhibit on Earth people, they just may come upon these motheaten annals of travel debauchery and wonder, as we sometimes do, just what this was all about. In their search for real answers, the future bubble-helmeted historians might sift through the Rosetta stone that is Wikipedia, or maybe even a real dictionary. But for the sake of them and future generations of Chinese people, let me lay it out for you in this handy-dandy time capsule format. Forgive me for just cutting and pasting stuff from off the net, but that's all that writers are good for these days.

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". . . the popular conception of the travel writer is a myth. We do not run around the world with limitless corporate credit cards getting free spa packages and business-class upgrades. How does it happen?" Gridskipper writer Andrew Evans explains how the sausage gets made, along with good tips on getting the best travel guide for your needs. (gorriti/flickr)

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Spring has sprung and along with the cherry blossoms and cute baby animals is a raging army of workaholics just dying to break out of the office and go totally wild. Not some bikini blitz or a round of jello shots -- we're talking into the wild, you know . . nature.

But is it possible, you ask, to experience real nature in the metropolitan madness that is Washington, D.C.? Sure it is. Whether you're looking for a coyote pack, a hooting owl, or just a quiet spot under a tree (sans dog poo), the Capital is like a big old national park, except with interns instead of moose (though we do have black squirrels). To guide us through our backyard jungle, we turn to our good friends at DCNature.com, a bunch of local shutterbugs who showcase their candid photography of local wildlife in and around the beltway. (photo)

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Yankee liberal John F. Kennedy referred to Washington as a city of Southern efficiency and Northern charm, but that ain't so funny if you know your history. The Union came mighty close to losing its capital to the Confederacy, and if it wasn't for Grant pulling his troops out of Richmond, Washingtonians would all be speaking Southern. But the War of Northern Aggression is finally, officially, actually over and time heals all wounds, right? Exceptin' the ones that don't heal -- that's what rememberin' is for! Not racism or bigotry folks, but a simple celebration of the South and the fine American tradition of insurrection. Seein' as half the tourists who visit the Union come from Dixieland and the rest of 'em is good ol' boys, Washington, D.C., demands its very own list of confederate highlights. Alas, none of the following venues take Confederate dollars, yet. (spike 55151/flickr)

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Mirror, mirror, on the wall, which bar's the queerest of them all? Well, do you mean "gay" or do you mean, like gay? Because Washington's gayer than sushi and scented candles on Sunday, but the district also boasts one of the highest concentrations of homos in America. If it's "gay" you're looking for then skip to the mall and all around the RNC. If you simply want gay, then you must go into a local bar that has men inside it. Sadly, some of the best bars closed down and other bars just suck.

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Ninety-six years ago, the Japanese first lady gave her American counterpart some pretty cherry trees, and the two countries have been trading flowers and bombs of friendship ever since. Washington now welcomes more than one million visitors in a beautiful but crazy two-week period. Tourists come from all over to enjoy the lovely cherry blossoms and celebrate the best of Japanese culture (like pixelated porn and whale in a can). This truly is the best time to visit the capital: spring is in the air, the city looks nice, and grumpy Washingtonians exude about as much cheer as they can muster. The problem is that visitors outnumber the cherry trees 267 to one, so any delicate Shintoist attempts to connect with nature quickly turns into an Osaka traffic jam. Crowds and commercialization suck bad, but don't lose hope. Here's a few inside tips to keep you in the know and above the fray, so that every Cherry Blossom Festival feels like your first. (photo: Brian Gratwicke)

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Not long after the bed was invented, people discovered eating in bed. The custom of bed AND breakfasts (not sold separately) goes back to fair England, where B and B's still offer an affordable alternative to pretentious, overpriced, impersonal hotels. Like so many British things (e.g. the Spice Girls), Americans have turned one more working-class tradition into something deluxe and Victorian. Today, Washington, D.C, is dotted with charming B and Bs that look like a ladies' sewing circle threw up (did you want frills with that?). Better leave such haunts to the bridge clubs that inspired them -- the rest of us want to sleep and eat like the gods, escaping into a refined world of top-notch design and glossy magazine values. Here's where to find just that--if you're in the capital on business and can't stand another night at the Mariott, if you're the Governor of New York but want to stay anonymous, or if you've got cousins coming to town and there just ain't no way you can squeeze them into your studio. Rates range from $160 to $300 a night. (photo: DC Guesthouse)

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You know your neighborhood is phony when it's perpetually followed by a definition: NoMa is a toponym that has yet to be printed or spoken without its paranthetical epithet (North of Massachusetts Avenue), nor without a false explanation that it's just like any of New York's groovy acronym'd 'hoods, e.g. SoHo, TriBeCa, and DUMBO. Actually, NoMa is Washington's latest and greatest gentrification un-success story, the unfinished fairy tale of one eager band of pocket-protected urban planners. The neighborhood was drawn up as everything north of Mass Avenue, east of 2nd Street, NW, west of 2nd Street NE, and south of New York Avenue. That's about 35 fill-in-the-blank city blocks which after more than a decade have yet to be referred to as "NoMa" by anyone who lives there. Sorry guys, but two mentions in the Washington Post does not a neighborhood make. We're still not buyin' it. (photo: Andrew Evans)

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Washingtonians do love us some french fries, which is why our collective waistline matches the national debt. So whose fries are actually worth the calories? After all that nonsense about freedom fries, Washington's best french fries are still found most often in (surprise!) French or Belgian restaurants. Given the variables of potato, cut, oil type and temperature, and saltiness, the ultimate fry factor in question is how dependable a plate of fries is at any particular establishment. Do repeat visits ensure french fried pleasure that is equal or greater to previous tastings? Does one relish a restaurant for its fries above all else? Only after much mouthwatering research do I dare reveal my picks, and let me assure you that there was no fry left behind. (photo)

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Eritrea? Where's that? For the geographicallly challenged, here's a map and a recap: Red Sea coast turned unsuccessful Italian colony turned UN protectorate then ceded to Ethiopia followed by a 30 year civil war, nominal independence, undemarcated borders and a corrupt one-party government. It's your typical horn of Africa fairy tale. Fast-forward to Washington, DC, where we now have the highest concentration of Eritreans outside Eritrea (and maybe LA), a demographic that accounts for our groovy ethnic food and chillin' coffee shops. Eritreans are also pretty cool, seeing as they're always getting called Ethiopians but just shrugging it off. It's not unlike mistaking a New Zealander for an Aussie, or saying Canadians are just like Americans, or that a Belgian person is French, or that a Scottish person is English . . . whatever. Sensitive types know that Eritrea does not equal Ethiopia, and here's why:

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The world forgot about Belarus after the March 2006 presidential election when the winners beat up the losers, literally. Now it seems the whole country is in a deep freeze until President-for-life Lukashenko next goes rollerblading and just maybe falls on his head. Russian rumors report that the leader is somewhat offended by his nation's axis-of-evil status and is taking strides to make Belarus more tourist-friendly. Politics aside, Minsk is admittedly a lovely little city of about 2 million Minskians (minions?). Within it lies the purest collective of Stalinist architecture on earth, and you can't help but feel impressed by the size and style of such imposing urban vistas. And so let us away to the Pyongyang of Europe! Come taste the current vibe in a city where Lee Harvey Oswald completed his junior year abroad.

Photo: Andrew Evans

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Anno Domini 2008 is well upon us and all over the world people are inflicting their cause upon our empty calendars. Leap year just isn't enough to get excited about anymore--we must oblige grand political pronouncements and lend an ear to the trendspotting headlines. The United Nations is a common culprit, what with their love of acroynyms and officious oversight, but it seems this year, everyone's doing it.:If something is dying off or doesn't feel important enough, just say that this year is the year of that thing and then it fixes everything. So far in 2008, we are celebrating, saving, promoting, and increasing awareness of: frogs, languages, toilets, rats, books, potatoes, ice, boy scouts, coral reefs, and more. Don't laugh, Hallmark actually makes cards for about half of these.

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Tourists are often shocked to discover that their nation's capitol is chock full of homeless people-- about 15,000 of them in fact, a rising number that puts Washington well ahead of the rest of the country. Economists point to the lack of affordable housing as the leading cause of homelessness, followed by insufficient wages--basically, the money you earn working at Dunkin' Donuts can't buy you a roof in the District. In that regard, most of us are just a paycheck or two away from being homeless ourselves. If you didn't get paid next month, where would you go? Could you survive on the streets? Do you know which park is the safest, which shelter has the fluffiest pillows, and which church dishes out the biggest portions? I didn't think so. Read on.

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Yes of course, it's crème brûlée, but how many diacritics do you need in a title. None, says your editor. Anyway: Burnt cream, yum! Why do Washingtonians love it so? Because it's the dessert you make with a blowtorch, that's why. Also, because it has a hardtack coating that cracks under pressure to reveal a delicious mushy underside of goodness (nope, not a metaphor). As a gourmet classic, crème brûlée poses a serious Catch 22 to chefs. If it's missing from the menu, your restaurant is neither French nor sophisticated; but make it wrong, and you'll be mocked forever. When it comes to crème brûlée, the folks in this town get picky. True connoisseurs know there's one right way to do it and a million ways to screw it up. Frankly, I like mine plain and vanilla, unhindered by fancy infusions or presented as some odd dessert hybrid. Just burn me some cream, man. The following list represents the most painful research of my career: to discern the diamonds from the cubic zirconia of this beloved French dessert.

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Once spread out over nine city blocks, Washington DC's Chinatown now comprises a minuscule area that laugh-it-up hipsters refer to as "Chinablock." Even though the community dates back to the 1850s, the most recent census only counted 700 Chinese residents in the neighborhood, making DC the smallest Chinatown in all America. Gentrification happens, right? In 2006, the city of Washington DC spent $200 million to make Chinatown safe and nice for tourists and Virginians. Subsequent side effects included Chinatown becoming much more expensive, really cheesy, and a lot less Chinese. Now it's that place by the metro to grab lunch before the game at the Verizon Center or a way to break up a day of shopping. It's also the place to buy a condo if you happen to be a millionaire who wants a room without a view. It's all quite tragic really, but even more worrisome is the thought that DC Chinatown is the proverbial sparrow in the mineshaft. Will our want of safety and shopping erase the ethnic hoods we love? Let's discuss!

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Whether or not they admit it, everybody in Washington shops at Safeway. No other grocery store manages to squeeze such a suburban practice into such a convenient urban package and with such variety. While focus groups might dictate what's on the shelf in any given locale, it's the experience of the shopper that crowns the store with its colloquial title. Somehow the names stick, despite Washington's super-transient populace and shifting neighborhoods. Safeway, Inc. rejects these nicknames -- though if they had any business sense they'd embrace them wholeheartedly and erect a hammer and sickle on 17th Street. Instead, they keep insisting how they're so down with the new millennium 'cuz they play (cough) Coldplay on the speakers. Meanwhile the internet's all aflutter with arguments about which store is called what. As someone who's lived in Washington far too long and shopped at every single Safeway in the district, let me to tell you how it goes.

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Monica Lewinsky, Chandra Levy, the Washingtonienne ... all girls who got screwed in the big capital. What of their lives and their legacy? Hollywood may have its celebrity tours and London might have its ghost walks, but in Washington DC, it's the down and out whose personal geography is fraught with real touristic meaning. Given that I'm neither down, out, (nor a girl), I enlisted the experience of my anonymous friend who I refer to simply as "Megan." Intelligent and perfectly charming (and with gobs of leisure time), Megan was more than happy to walk me through her life of local diversions and generic metaphysical refuge. And so I asked the same thing somebody once asked Hilary: "Megan darling, how do you cope?"

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What has your president done for your sybaritic globetrotting lifestyle? On the upside, Libya's open for package tours, Puerto Rico has a PR campaign based entirely on not needing a passport, and the airlines sell a lot of one-way tickets to Iraq. On the downside -- well, I have a word limit -- but it starts with being hated in every country and ends with empowered Eurotrash clogging Times Square. As the ultimate anti-traveler, George W is why Americans wear targets around our necks while Canadians get to skip hither and thither with their meek little maple leaf flags. But let us look forward, not back. When it comes to enabling travel, which US presidential candidate is best? Do any of them actually like to travel, and how will their policies affect your own wanderings? Let's consult the only rational authority: the Magic 8 Ball™!

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Sex and food have been joined at the hip ever since France was invented. Forget all the nonsense about good customer service or whether or not they can speak English; just tell us if the servers are hot or not. It's like your teacher used to say: Never judge a book by it's cover, but always judge the person serving you and the establishment s/he works for. Hence this roundup of restaurants, which doesn't review the food or the chef, but homes in on what really matters -- looks. We're talking eateries here, no bars, so the hairless manboys at Cobalt (see illustration) don't count. Also, hotness is used here in a non-gender-specific format, which means girls and boys. Establishments must have a proven hotness record, so no one-offs or rare sightings (i.e. Georgetown). Obviously, this review is all very objective and based on quantitative analysis done by a team of highly-trained hotness consultants, however, if you insist on spoiling the research with your subjective invective, please do so in the comments or tips.

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