Start Your Travel Fund With The Change In Your Pocket (But Good Luck Finding A Bank To Count Your Coins)

by Dave Seminara on

Six gallon-size jugs of coins once bought me a one-way ticket to Cairo. It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I’ve long had a curious little ritual before leaving the country that I’m very fond of. I’m a coin accumulator. You know those people who take several minutes to scrounge around for pennies while you are waiting impatiently behind them in line? That’s not me. If my bill comes to $1.01, I give the cashier $2, even if I have the penny in my pocket.

Why? Almost twenty years ago, I read about this change accumulation tactic and decided it would be an effortless way to start a travel fund. It’s hard to save money but it’s easy to accumulate coins. At the time I started my first coin collection, I was stuck in an office job in Chicago that I loathed. It felt good to accumulate coins and then dump them in big jugs in my room when I got home.

It made me feel a bit like a prisoner trying to gradually chip his way out of Alcatraz through some loose molding. I was plotting my escape and the growing coin collection was a measure of my progress.

After about two years of saving, I was ready to quit my job and take off for a four-month overland trip from Cairo to Shanghai. I had about $8,000 in savings in the six aforementioned jugs of coins. When I lugged all the coins to a local bank their coin counting machine made these loud, gurgling noises that were music to my ears. I was astonished when the clerk told me I was due $436. It was thirty bucks more than I needed to book a one-way ticket to Cairo.

Since that epic trip, I’ve continued to accumulate coins, though at a much slower rate of late because I like to use my credit cards to accumulate frequent flyer miles. Still, I relish going out to trade in my coins right before an international trip. I bring the cash I get back with me and it feels like extra money that I can blow on whatever I want.

But over the years, it’s become harder and harder to find coin counting machines that don’t charge a commission. And the tellers greet you and your coins about as warmly as Mullah Omar might be received at a Ground Zero commemoration event.You can use the machine at your grocery store, but you’ll lose 9 percent — not a very good way to start a trip. Five years ago, prior to a trip to Newfoundland, I spent more than an hour lugging two huge, heavy jars of coins around downtown Washington, D.C., looking for a bank that would count my coins.

At least half dozen banks insisted that I roll the coins into paper sleeves — a task that would have taken hours — until I finally found a place that had a no-commission machine. But the most embarrassing part was walking through a park that was filled with homeless people begging. What do you say to a guy who asks for spare change when you’re carrying about $200 worth of it? Ummm, sorry, you see, I’m going to Newfoundland, and….

I gave away a bit but still felt cheap. But not as cheap as I felt today, as I was bounced around nearly every bank in my town and found none that would count my coins without a commission. I’m about to leave for Europe on Tuesday and I had a modest coin collection that I needed to dissolve — but how?

There are seven banks I pass on the way from my children’s preschool to my home. Burke & Herbert, BB & T, Sun Trust and Wells Fargo all had no machine.

“You should roll your coins,” said one annoying teller.

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll take that suggestion under consideration” (perhaps when I’m retired or incapacitated).

Then I went into a second, larger BB & T branch and thought I’d hit pay dirt when I saw a coin machine in the corner. But alas, they have a 6% commission unless you open an account. I considered paying the commission but remembered that there were still two more banks I’d pass on my way home.

I struck out at Bank of America, where the teller looked at me and my bag of coins as though we were contagious, but then I saw something promising outside a bank I’d never heard of before across from a bakery with the preposterous name “Panaderia de Paris.”

T.D. Bank’s sign said, “America’s Most Convenient Bank.”

Surely the most convenient bank in the land of the free and the home of the brave would offer a commission-free coin counting machine, right?

“It’s 6% commission unless you open an account,” said the over-officious teller.

A sympathetic man in dreadlocks shook his head and chimed in.

“Man, that ain’t right!” he said. “Why does it cost money to count money?”

I was delighted to have found a like-minded soul and I immediately wanted to invite him to Europe. But instead I inquired about opening an account with an initial deposit of $1.

“You can open an account,” the teller said suspiciously. “But if it falls below the minimum balance of $100, then you’ll be assessed fees.”

“That’s OK,” I said. “You can take them out of my $1 and when it gets to zero you can just dissolve the account.”

“But you’ll be sent to a collection agent,” she said.

That didn’t sound very convenient, so I grudgingly shuffled over to the machine and hit the start button on the touch screen.

An animated image of a cute freckled little girl in bib overalls and pigtails appeared on my screen.

“My name is Penny Arcade!” she chirped. “I’m here to count your coins, are you ready?”

I dumped my coins down Penny’s machine and then the charming lass popped back up on the screen again.

“Do you want to guess how much money you’ve inserted?” she asked. “If you guess within $1.99 of the correct amount you’ll win a prize!”

I asked the teller if there was a fee for guessing.

“Oh no, that’s free,” she said, reassuringly.

I mostly use credit cards these days, and my coin collection is only about a year old, so I guessed $46. A slot-machine-like image popped up on the screen showing six digits with the numbers scrolling very fast, giving one the impression that, who knows, maybe you might win a jackpot. Now this was entertainment clearly worth at least a few bucks.

My depressing total was a paltry $32.44. Less the commission it came to $30.50 — perhaps enough for a meal in an inexpensive trattoria or perhaps a seat on Ryan Air. In an age of plastic and frequent flyer miles, clearly my best coin accumulating days are behind me. How sad.

After handing me the receipt the teller had one last pitch.

“Are you sure you don’t want to open an account?” she asked.

[Photos via Mukumbura, Mapless in Seattle and Jason Rogers on Flickr.]

Tubohotel Takes Exotic Camping To The Next Level

by Jessica Festa on

Just when you thought you’d seen it all – tree hotels, salt palaces, undersea lodges and enormous boot-shaped bed and breakfasts — something new comes along that tests the limits of accommodation possibilities. Located in Tepoztlán, Mexico, is the Tubohotel (shown right), a unique experiential property that allows guests to sleep in massive tube pipes stacked like pyramids.

In line with ecotourism, the tubes are made of recycled tube pipe materials. While this may sound like you’ll be sleeping in a sewer, the company claims the experience is actually very comfortable. The rooms each come with a queen bed, fan, desk light, storage compartments under the bed, a towel rack with towels, a plush comforter and soft sheets. Furthermore, the tubes are apparently quite warm. Or, as Tubohotel says, the rooms maintain a “comfortable, almost tubo-licious temperature during the day and night.”

While you won’t be able to bathe in the room, the property boasts two clean, spacious bathrooms with hot water, private showers and toilets, although you will have to bring your own robes and slippers.

No matter how nice the rooms at Tubohotel are you’re not going to want to spend all day sitting in a pipe. Luckily, the hotel also has an onsite Infinity pool and can arrange for cultural cooking classes with celebrity chef Ana Garcia. Nature activities like mountain climbing, hiking and biking are also abound. Not to mention, a bar and restaurant are coming soon to the property.

Prices start at 300 pesos (about $24) per night, based on double occupancy. Click here to learn more or make a reservation.

Culinary Cab Confessions: The Search For Tacos And ‘Authenticity’ In Mexico

by David Farley on
The first taxi driver I met in Puerto Vallarta had other plans for me. “You want to go to peliculas?” he asked, looking at me through the rearview mirror. I didn’t particularly want to go to a movie. Especially not the kind he had in mind. “It’s a good movie,” he said in Spanish and then laughed in the way that would have required him to rub his hands together if they weren’t occupied with dodging pedestrians and dogs, as we tore through the streets of this seaside Mexican town.

“Okay,” he said. “Chica? You want a chica?”

“No,” I said. “I already told you. Quiero comer.” I want to eat.

And just then, he poked his head out the window at a short-skirt-wearing, twenty-something female standing on the sidewalk and said “Yo quiero un taco!” and laughed again. He jilted his head back at me and said, “Que una pussy!”

I was hoping to do another installment of my Culinary Cab Confessions in which I test the theory that taxi drivers are a knowledge repository of the best (and cheapest) places to eat, the out-of-the-way gems that you just don’t stumble across. Except this rotund, randy cab driver I was currently with was a knowledge stockroom of other carnal pleasures. Just not the kind I was seeking. I grew up in southern California where Mexican cuisine has become something of a default comfort food. Having lived in good-Mexican-food-deprived New York City for the last nine years, I relish the moments when I’m in a place that has good Mexican food (like, say, Mexico, for example). I just had to find a cab driver who would show me the right place.

When I arrived in this city of 250,000 I immediately had jumped in a cab and pointed it toward the old town. The driver recommended I eat at El Moreno, a taco stand in the Zona Romantico, the cobblestone-street-and-tourist-laden part of town. I found El Moreno, and then I found another taco cart. And another. Two hours later, I had eaten octopus tacos, steamed marlin tacos, several variations on the theme of pork tacos, and unidentified fish tacos. I swore by the time I left I’d be encased in tortilla shell myself. Some of the tacos were good. Some were excellent. All included a requisite gringo or two eating with me.

There were several questions that were nagging at me: Where could I go in town with fewer gringos? Did it really matter? Would my experience be more “authentic” if I were the only non-local? I asked the concierge at my hotel (about where I could eat without encountering other tourists). “No,” she said, shaking her head at me. And then another question arose: was I just being a culinary traveling snob?

“These places don’t exist,” said the concierge when I repeated the question on where I could find good tacos in a gringo-less environment. “We go to the same places the gringos go.” Or, rather, gringos go the same places the locals go. Still, I persisted. There had to be a taqueria-crammed neighborhood that tourists don’t venture to. “No, no, no,” she said. I sighed and walked away.
And then I got in a cab. I explained to the driver what I wanted and he knew immediately where to take me. La Aurora, a neighborhood that was about 10 minutes away.
He let me off at Universo, a street-plaza that was lined with food carts. There were carnitas tacos, porklicious tortas and a guy making Frisbee-sized hamburgers. (I’m not exaggerating.) I settled in at Taqueria Don Roque and ordered the house specialty: the al pastor tacos, the meat of which was shaved off of a huge hunk, like at a shwarma joint. The spicy pork in the tacos was intermingled with chunks of pineapple, an additional taste stratum that I very much appreciated. I ordered two more.
There was a fat man lounging in front of a grill on the corner of the intersection across the street. I wandered over and realized my presence had just roused him out of a sleep. He said he was from Michoacan and was selling a typical snack of his home region: roasted chickpeas. I bought a bag and strolled around the plaza gawking at what to eat next. The chickpeas were still in their encasing, making eating them a tad difficult but worth every juicy chickpea stream that was running down my forearm. I still had no answers to my questions about travel and the “authentic” experience some of us seek. I did, though, have one answer: I’d found the place I was looking for.

Got Geoduck? An Epic Clam Dig On The Olympic Peninsula

by Laurel Miller on

It’s a drizzly late March morning at Hood Canal, a fjord-like arm of Washington State’s Puget Sound two hours west of Seattle. The air is briny and pungent. Douglas-fir trees and fog-shrouded inlets dot the shoreline. Bald eagles soar overhead while dozens of harbor seals bob in the water.

Armed with a shovel, a hand trowel and a five-gallon bucket, I’m attired in hip waders and neoprene. I slosh through the shallow water — stumbling over oyster shells, tufts of eel grass and starfish — searching for telltale, two-inch, oval holes in the sand from which the tip of a mollusk siphon may protrude (a visual cue known as a “show”).

The elusive creature I seek is Panopea generosa (a Latin name that will seem far more hilarious when you check out the gallery below), the geoduck clam. At first glance, the geoduck is unarguably, hideously, phallic — there’s no polite way…ahem….around it.

Possessed of a leathery neck, or siphon, that stretches up to three feet in length, the world’s largest burrowing clam tends to freak Americans out. In Asia, it’s revered as a delicacy and aphrodisiac, yet it’s native to the waters of the Pacific Northwestern U.S.

[Photo credits: Langdon Cook]

%Gallery-151127%I, too, found geoduck disturbing, until I moved to Seattle, and found a small pile of it on my plate while dining at Spring Hill, award-winning chef Mark Fuller’s restaurant (recently rechristened Ma’ono). Dressed with a tart lemon peel relish, the meat was slightly sweet and briny, with a subtle, satisfying crunch. Fuller loves geoduck for its ease of preparation, and “mild, clean flavor and snappy texture.” He prefers to serve it raw, with some citrus, olive oil and a bit of coarse sea salt. The “king” clam is also used as sashimi, sautéed or hot-smoked.

Seattle forager, author (Fat of the Land: Adventures of a 21th Century Forager, Skipstone Press), food blogger, and back-to-the-land Renaissance man Langdon Cook prefers geoduck in an Asian-inspired ceviche, marinated with lime juice, a touch of fish sauce and brown sugar, and diced red onion, Serrano chile and shredded, green (unripe) papaya or mango.

Since I love tracing food to its source, I asked Lang to take me ‘duck hunting. After catching the ferry to Bainbridge Island, we drove to the eastern side of the Olympic Peninsula; Hood Canal has a number of state parks with wild geoduck. While not seasonal, March is when mandatory harvest licenses are issued; you can obtain them here through the Washington Department of Fish & Wildlife. Low tides in July and August are ideal for geoduck harvest, because it stays light late, and the weather is at its best.

At Dosewallips Tide Flat (part of a lovely state park), we discovered the water higher than anticipated, but fortunately, we had Taylor Shellfish Farms manager John Adams to provide his considerable expertise. Instead of digging in sand, we’d be shoveling against the clock in heavy, sticky substrate. Despite this setback and even in drizzling rain, the aesthetics were spellbinding.

When I finally spotted a show, after much difficulty and with the help of my geoduck-senseis, we laboriously dug a three-foot-deep pit adjacent to the clam in the gloppy, shell-laden substrate. Since it was my story, I had the glory of actually winnowing the recalcitrant little bastard out of its burrow.

Immersed to the shoulder, sodden and stinking of tidal effluence, I finally manage to extract the clam. I triumphantly fist-pumped my three-pound prize in the air, while its leathery siphon drooped to the side like a dehydrated tongue. We capped off the day by collecting a bucket of littleneck clams from the beach, and then Lang took me to his home in Seattle for a tutorial on removing the “gut ball” from a geoduck. Unsurprisingly, gut ball soup is also a delicacy in Asia, but I can safely say this particular food trend won’t be catching on in mainstream America. You can quote me on that.

I went home with my siphon (I generously left Lang with the shell and gut ball; he did, after all, do most of the digging), and made sashimi. You know what? It tasted damn good. So did the clam linguine that followed.

Puget Sound’s Taylor Shellfish, a fifth-generation, sustainable mariculture farm, is the world’s largest producer of farmed geoduck. They’re sold live at Taylor’s retail shop in Capitol Hill in Seattle or online, $24.95 per pound (minimum two pounds). To order, click here. The site also features a video on how to clean and prepare geoduck.

Relieve Your Tax Day Stress By Taking Advantage Of These Travel Deals And Events

by Jessica Festa on

Do you dread Tax Day? While you’ll still have to file your income tax returns, these leaders in hospitality are making April 17 more fun for travelers.

Loews Hotels

This April, Loews Hotels, which features properties across the United States, is collaborating with mixologists Tad Carducci and Paul Tanguay from Tippling Bros. to create a special menu for tax season. The hotel hopes to give guests a break during the stressful time by offering concoctions such as The Tax Audit, with American moonshine, simple syrup, club soda and fresh lemon juice, and The Tax Refund, which includes Woodford Reserve Bourbon, fresh lemon juice, honey syrup and shaken bitters strained over crushed ice with a cherry and orange garnish. The drinks will be available from April 2 to April 30.

Call 1-800-23-LOEWS or click here to book. Laguna Vista Lodge

Located in Eagle Nest, New Mexico, Laguna Vista Lodge immerses visitors in a beautiful mountain setting and allows them to relax in nature. To help relieve some of the stress associated with Tax Day, the hotel is offering a “Tax Day Special,” which allows guests to stay at the lodge for three nights, with April 15 costing only $10.40 plus tax.

Call 1-800-821-2093 or click here to book.

Inn at Riverbend

Inn at Riverbend is a charming bed and breakfast in Pearisburg, Virginia, located near the Appalachian Trail, the New River and Virginia Tech. This Tax Day, the property is offering a “Tax Day Refund” package. Guests who book a room for April 15 and then stay on Sunday and Monday will receive a $75 refund on the spot.

Enter promo code TAX DAY REFUND when making a reservation. Click here to book.

Travaasa Hãna

Located in the town of Hãna on Maui, Hawaii, the Travaasa Hãna is a luxury experiential property set right on Kaihalulu Bay. To help guests relax during the tax month, the hotel is offering special classes, programs and pricing. First, there is their Tax Relief Menu, which includes an array of $15 offerings like a 30-minute personal training session, a one-on-one yoga and nutrition workshop, an extension from a 50-minute massage to an 80-minute massage or a select bottle of wine. Moreover, Travaasa Hãna is featuring a 15-course tasting menu with wine pairing for $150 per person.

Call 855-868-7283 or click here to book.

Travaasa Austin

Travaasa Austin in Austin, Texas, is set near the beautiful Balcones Canyonlands Preserve and tries to get guests active in nature. Just like their sister property above, in honor of Tax Day they will be featuring a $15 experience menu and 15-course tasting menu and wine pairing for $150 per person.

Call 855-868-7283 or click here to book.

Americano Restaurant at Hotel Vitale

Hotel Vitale in San Francisco, California, is a luxury property set right on the water. In honor of Tax Day, their onsite Americano Restaurant will be offering a “Tax Relief Special.” From now until April 15, guests will be able to purchase bottles of wine for half price from Monday through Friday, 11:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. and 5:30 p.m. to 10:00 p.m. The restaurant is famous for its delicious Italian cuisine, created using locally-sourced ingredients, which can be perfectly paired with their vino offerings.

Call 415-278-3777 or click here to make a reservation.

Grant Grill Lounge at the U.S. Grant Hotel

Located in downtown San Diego, California, the U.S. Grant Hotel has been a luxury property and city icon since 1910. This April 17, their onsite Zagat-winning restaurant, Grant Grill Lounge, is offering a specialty cocktail for only $4.17. To receive the discount, patrons must say the password, “DEDUCTION.” While sipping your libation, nibble on exquisite locally-sourced dishes like Jumbo Diver Scallops, California Sea Bass or Niman Ranch Pork Cheeks.

Call 619-744-2077 or click here to book.

New York Water Taxi

New York Water Taxi provides “entertaining, stimulating, and enlightening ways to see New York City’s dazzling skyline, celebrated bridges and lush waterfront parks while maintaining a community-conscious fleet that honors [New York’s] cherished waterways.” For those who can show proof of filing their taxes on April 15 and 16, they will receive a buy one, get one free ticket for the Statue of Liberty Express. This features a one-hour guided tour to see Lady Liberty as well as all day access to their Hop On Hop Off service.

Tickets can be purchased at either South Street Seaport, Pier 17, or West 44th Street, Pier 84.

Flat Creek Estate

Flat Creek Estate, located in Marble Falls, Texas, is an expansive vineyard and winery that regularly hosts festivals and events. To help people get their mind off Tax Day, the estate is hosting a Tax Day Festival on April 15, from 11:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. Guests will get to relax in the country, stroll through beautiful wildflowers and take a complimentary vineyard tour. Furthermore, discounted food and wine will be available, including a glass of wine and flatbread pizza from their wood-fired oven for $15. There will also be $5 glasses of wine and $10 bottles.

Flat Creek Estate is located at 24912 Singleton Bend East. Call 512-267-6310 for more information.