Monday, December 11, 2017

Time for Tapas Part 1: Grandioso Granada

Daddy, we seem to have walked past the sleepy time beds? Don't know what to tell you son other than if you don't like the middle seat you'll have to secede like those Catalonians.


If you're going to go on a misguided debt binge and bankrupt your nation you might as well use the proceeds to put an expansive, fully-staffed playroom in your airport. Careful kid, I believe the IMF is coming to repossess that trolley.


Spain may be on the brink of tearing itself in two but you'd never guess it by their attitude to cockpit security. Want to sit in the captain's chair? Sure senior come on in, and here's a hat to wear too. If you want to take a turn when we're in flight just ring the flight attendant call button right around siesta time.



Airbnb was basically designed for Americans to role play Europeans for a couple of days. You know, giant bay windows overlooking a quaint square lined with tapas shops and cafes, the aroma of fresh baked bread wafting up from the bakery around the corner, the ridiculously hip decor. Even better you can role play the whole I don't have to go to work thing too.



In on the red eye? No worries it's Spain nothing opens till noon anyway.


So I'm losing my SALT deduction and yet my tax bill still won't get me a palm-shaded playground in the middle of a pedestrian-only eating street?



Dad, you said I could have the last acorn-fed jamon!


You know a city's top sight must be a good one when it's got its own beer, the Alhambra Especial. Still waiting for the Palmy Clock Tower IPA.



Seems these Moors were an enlightened lot, their city seems to be exceptionally stroller friendly. 



It's quite old Mei, it may even date from the pre-kid epoch.



Spoke too soon, the closer one gets to the rampart of the Alhambra the less useful a stroller. These Moors thought of every ruse, including the "But I've got a baby, can't you just lower the drawbridge or I'll give you a bad TripAdvisor."



Mommy are we going to a playdate? Will there be camels?


So kid, did you hear the one about the old man who insisted on writing a blog that doesn't immediately disappear upon opening the app? Yeah go figure right?



First sighting of the mighty Alhambra, one of the world's great architectural treasures. If you can get your stroller up there you deserve the Iron Throne.



Dad is this Whole Foods, can I grab some of those artisanal looking oranges?



Never doubt the energy contained in one smoothie. Or the fiber, judging by propulsion system at the other end.



You want likes on Instagram? Well step right up folks, I've got the whitewashed wall and the blue flower pots.



If you're going to have 50 percent youth unemployment it's good to have hipster cafes where they can send a few futile resumes between cat memes.



Fresh-squeezed orange juice seems to be the national drink. Every square and courtyard is lined with orange trees so you can pretty much just reach out your window.



Friday, October 27, 2017

Hickster City, MO

You're not in Kansas any more Dorothy. Well yes. First, because Kansas City (mostly) isn't in Kansas. And second, because Heartland cities like Kansas City have come a long way from their tractors and hillbillies days.


These days hicksters husk organic, hand-harvested corn and stock the old grain elevators with micro-batches of single-origin coffees beans.



When faced with a wide open road you need some American muscle to back you up. Too bad Ryan got his upper body strength from Dad.


I thought Detroit's revival was all about reclaiming American values? We're not going to Make America Great Again by importing models from the Shanghai Auto Show.


Great Grandpa is just the man to show Ryan the correct way to grease a John Deere.


Seems the hickster revolutionaries still have some work to do before claiming total victory, the towering bastions of suburbia aren't going down without a fight. This siege may take a while, they're holed up in there with unlimited bread sticks.


Sorry kids, I know the Marriott Overland Park doesn't come with the reclaimed mid-century modern furnishings, clandestine basement speakeasy, and afternoon cold brew tasting that you're used to, but can I offer you a Grande Pumpkin Spice Latte from the Starbucks in the lobby? It pairs nicely with the featureless freeway and office park out the front door.



Welcome home! The Kansan is the appropriate choice for someone who's been away from the corn fields way too long. Watch out Lawrence, your second most-clicked travel blogger is back in the hood. In fact your first most-clicked travel blogger is too, that's gotta make this the biggest homecoming since Dorothy realized the yellow brick road was all just a figment of a Trumped up infrastructure plan.


Daddy, daddy, can we go to KU? Yes kids, because picking your school based on the frothiness of their chocolate milk is as good as any of those other arbitrary rankings.



The Jayhawks pep squad is getting ready for a long afternoon: looks like Texas Tech is in town.


If this is the best O-line Hawks country can come up with you can kind of see how Texas Tech is already up three touchdowns.




Dad, how about we take some of that rock chalk and draw up some you know, like, winning plays?


At least from up here you can't see the numbers on the scoreboard. Got to hand it to Lawrence though, if you're going to get annihilated you might as well do it on a cracker of an autumn day.



Let's go find some swag, preferable from the basketball section not the football section.


The hicksters strike again, spreading fear deep into redneck territory by annexing a gas station, the  very lifeblood of the Olive Gardeners, and converting it into a craft beer garden and burger joint.



Back in Kansas City, even the nondescript strip malls aren't safe from maundering hipsters on the prowl for caffeine that doesn't come in faux-Italian sizes.



Let's raise a glass to the revitalization of America's heartland, one organic blueberry smoothie at a time.