Favorite towns: Woodstock, the place in upstate New York where the concert didn’t happen

by Jamie Rhein on

Even though the town of Woodstock in the Hudson Valley region of New York balked at letting the mega concert happen within its domain—and even though all of Ulster County didn’t want the concert there, Woodstock the town is a groovy, upscale (and a little downscale) arts haven that is definitely worth heading to for a day of wandering, particularly if you like to shop for lovely, interesting items. It is one of my favorite towns to head, particularly because the people who live here make sure it remains true to who they are and not what corporate giants would like them to be.

There are tree-lined streets and small historic buildings. The arts focus started here back in 1902 which helps make it eye candy for shopping. Plus, even though the concert didn’t happen here, hippies are welcome and mixed in with the upscale, there is an edgy grit.

I head here every summer to look for wedding, baby and birthday gifts, plus a new pair of shoes. The shoes are for me. Sometimes it’s a quick trip, mostly for the shoes, but once in awhile there’s that wonderful summer day where no where else really matters. Here is my Woodstock guide–mostly shopping. Everything I’ve listed, I have done.

Some shopping stops that are my favorites:

If you wander along Tinker Street where each of these are located, you’ll also come across shops selling all sorts of specialty items from kitchen supplies to books to clothing to greeting cards. Some shops are the up-scale variety and others center around tie dye and incense.

Clouds Gallery: Located on the right-hand side of Tinker Street if you are driving up through town. The specialty is hand blown contemporary glass, fine American crafts and jewelry. My daughter has a collection of blown glass hearts– one for each birthday, from this store. The hearts are gifts from my mother who is my companion on these jaunts. Tell Robert, the owner, I said hi.

Pegasus Footwear: This is where I always find an interesting pair of shoes. The types they sell are perfect for travelers’ feet. They also last.

Timbuktu: An eclectic mix of folk art, pottery, jewelry and fusion type fare from different countries. Whoever is the buyer knows his or her stuff. Presents I’ve bought here: salad servers with beaded work from Kenya, a hand painted clock with a sun’s face on it, and ceramics to name a few.

Tinker Street Toys of Woodstock: Right next door to Clouds. This is a child’s dream store (and adults). I’ve played in here many a time and pick up stocking stuffers for the real kids in my life–and my husband.

For other shopping suggestions, click here.

Where to eat

Our favorite place is The Little Bear, an upscale Chinese restaurant two miles out of town. Eat in the sun room type addition. It overlooks a stream and you may even see deer. I’ve been here with kids and the staff has always been amenable–even when my son was only a year and a half.

Anywhere I’ve wandered in for a bite, I’ve found the food good, but you can’t go wrong at The Little Bear.

What to do at night:

The Tinker Street Cinema movie theater, housed in a former church–, the old wooden, white kind, is a one-screen kind of place. Popcorn always tastes better in movie theaters like this one. The last movie I saw here was 21 Grams.

There are other things to do at night, but since I’m mostly visiting family and friends in Kingston, I’m not here much after dinner. Folks, who have, please offer suggestions. I do know there are always concerts, talks and art events going on somewhere. This is a happening place.

Other places to head:

Where Woodstock, the concert happened. It takes a 43 mile drive.

Museum that honors the 1969 Woodstock concert to open

by Jamie Rhein on

On June 2, The Museum at Bethel Woods will open on the site where the 3-days long Woodstock Music and Art Fair happened 40 years ago. The museum will include concert memorabilia, stories, multi-media experiences, and cultural highlights of war protests, fashion and much about the 1960s.

This was the time of Flower Power, war protests, and people looking for ways to self-actualize. Of course, some folks just wanted to hear some mighty fine music. Consider the line up that included: Janis Joplin, Jefferson Airplane, The Who, The Grateful Dead, Santana, Blood Sweat and Tears, The Band, Joan Baez, Jimmy Hendrix, etc. etc. etc.

Although, the name of the concert was Woodstock, it wasn’t actually held in the town of that name, but 43 miles away in Bethel at the 600-acre pasture of Max Yasgur’s farm. The town of Woodstock came up with ordinances to prevent the concert from happening there, so the farm became the happening place. Despite the rain, 440,000 people gathered. For many, the concert symbolized their quest for freedom and hope.

For an in depth history of the concert, check out this Web site, “1969 Woodstock Festival and Concert.” It includes a Times Herald-Record article by Elliot Tiber that details how the event came to be with insider type tales.

Already there is the Bethel Woods Center for the Performing Arts on the property so the museum will be a companion to that. It is hoped that the museum will bring much needed dollars to Sullivan County. Although, I’ve been to Woodstock–the town that is in Ulster County several times, I haven’t been to this version. Now that there’s the museum, I’ll make the trip.

The museum looks like it will be fantastic. For some, perhaps it will be a trip down memory lane. For others a history lesson. Anyone who loves the mix of social issues, politics and music should think about heading here. Pair the trip with a stop in Woodstock, the actual town. The two are companion pieces in a way, and the Mid-Hudson Valley region of New York is absolutely splendid–even if all you do is drive around on the narrow, windy Ulster County or Sullivan County roads.

Here’s a tip, when on a windy county road in upstate New York, slow down on curves when it’s raining, Otherwise, you can sail off into a ditch with the undercarriage of the car scraping on pavement. I know; it happened.

The world’s top twelve hottie hang-outs

by Aaron Hotfelder on

A couple years ago, as I was sitting in a mall food court in Krakow with an American friend of mine, we played an immature but instructive game involving female passersby: Would we or wouldn’t we (let’s say) date them? Of the first ten girls that passed by, nine were a resounding “yes,” and the tenth was “yes, in a pinch.” Such responses were not merely the product of our usual low, take-what-you-can-get standards. Every girl in this mall, and seemingly every girl in Poland, was an absolute knock-out.

Over at Bootsnall, Roger Wade takes a look at twelve more places to check out the world’s most beautiful people. The usual suspects like LA, Miami, and Sydney make the list, but there are also some unexpected entries. The inclusion of Rabat, Morocco, might surprise some people, though, having been there, I couldn’t agree more. Also making the cut are Tel Aviv, Montreal, Copenhagen, Tokyo, and the home of one of Gadling’s own beautiful people, Prague.

Whole thing here.

Funny and sort of related video from Flight of the Conchords: “The Most Beautiful Girl in the Room.”

Connecticut Journal: Inside Yale’s secret societies

by Jerry Guo on

New Haven, Connecticut has a bad rep. To most, it’s at best a town you travel through on your way between Boston and New York. But as I’ve written recently in my travel series on New Haven, the town has experienced a tremendous renaissance in the last decade. And there’s one phenomenon here that you won’t find anywhere else. Read on:

There’s a dirty little secret tucked into a corner of my basement, one that I share with the few dozen students who live in the Elizabethan manor of Rosenfeld Hall. It’s the residential annex of Timothy Dwight, one of twelve residential colleges here at Yale. Though most of them go about their day, reading in the mahogany piano room to the right of the foyer or perhaps chuckling in “CSTD 340: Writing Comedy for Film and TV,” which meets Thursdays in a small auditorium to the left, clueless that a secret society rests right beneath their feet.

There’s Ryan, who politely listened as I gestured wildly (and at one point baited her with a mention of dead bodies and a sacrificial goat here and there), but after a minute promptly went back to her art history textbook. There’s Caio, a roommate who was more interested in the etymology of Saint Elmo, the society behind the crypt, than fancying the possibility that pagan rituals and plots to rig the 2008 presidential election may be unfolding as we spoke. And then there’s Karen, the Timothy Dwight master’s assistant, who was a bit confused by the whole thing. “Really, we have a basement in RH? No kidding?”

A generic placard, the kind found on most doorways at Yale, guards the entrance: “Stair to Sub-Basement,” newspeak undoubtedly for the lair of fantastic riches stowed away by wealthy alums of Saint Elmo, including former Attorney General John Ashcroft. I’m thankful he’s not around at the moment, as I’m on all fours jimmying a hook fashioned from a wire clothes hanger through the bottom crack of the door, in an awkward dance to pull the handle down on the other side. To the left is a card scanner, which seems out of place for the tomb of the undead. Then, a click as the hook catches, and I’m in.

I was pleasantly surprised to find the place flooded in the monochromatic light of body-length florescent lamps, then annoyed these tomb-dwellers were not doing their share in meeting the building’s 20% energy reduction quota. Metal steps circled down and around to a hallway somewhat narrower than a sidewalk (same concrete floors) but a much higher ceiling than what you would expect to get for a “sub-basement.” The extra breathing room was being put to good use, with a stack of headboards jumbled on top of each other, climbing to the ceiling in a deadly game of Jenga.

In another precarious pile, boxes of adjustable window shutters. Beyond were the round coffee tables, chipped with the wood starting to warp. The air ducts, water pipes, and sewage conduits had to fight for space next to the tall armoires and spare pieces of moldy wall paneling. Surely the society was just wrapping up its fall cleaning, as I approached the open door at the end of the hall beckoning me forth.

Inside was the sacred heart of Yale’s underground culture I couldn’t wait to peek (or break) into. A large vaulted dome loomed victoriously over the crypt, with a smaller dome on each side, and occasionally interrupted by the ever-present fluorescent lamps. The walls were constructed from giant slabs of solemn stone and the floor from smooth marble. One end of the crypt was raised, with a threatening stone sarcophagus in the middle of the platform – the sacrificial goats must be right around the corner. Statues of skulls on angel wings completed the gothic décor. Yes, this is exactly how I would deck out my own society crib.

Then I began to notice the minor details. Like the puke green mattresses with unspeakable stains leaning against the back wall. More scattered boxes of castaway junk – broken sandblasters, twisted coils of wiring, cracked dining hall plates, administrative manuals. Even boxes of folded up boxes. A section of the wall was also peeling off; a rather deft trick for what I swore was Medieval granite, until I saw the exposed red bricks beneath a thick layer of stucco insulation painted gray. Several of the skull figureheads had broken wings or a chipped chin, looking like the sore losers of a fight outside Toad’s.

Frankly, the place now place smelled and looked like the stale offspring of Pottery Barn and Home Depot, not exactly the gold-encrusted chamber of privilege I had in mind. That hasn’t stopped students from using the place. Someone had stashed away a microwave in a corner. Another left a box of chemistry and physics textbooks. There were recently lit lavender candles, the kind that comes in packets of 50 at Walmart, on the sarcophagus and a now shriveled tulip. Not exactly my destination for a study break.

It turns out, from time to time, the crypt has been used as an “auxiliary storage space” for items like spare furniture pieces (or defiled mattresses). University records indicate the building was built in 1912, and known as Saint Elmo’s Hall. In its heyday, the society boasted members like J.P. Morgan and James Roosevelt, but fortune turned, and they were forced to sell the property to Yale in 1962. While other societies have climbed in the unspoken rankings – Scroll & Key has $7 million in assets, more than Skulls & Bones – Saint Elmo has fallen off the map, with less name recognition than DSG (Drunk Senior Girls) or Fork & Knife. With no tomb, the best the society could do was a virtual home. Their website, www.st-elmo-society.com, has 82 registered members, albeit zero postings on the forum.

More info

It’s the real life version of the Priory of Sion, the secret organization in Dan Brown’s bestseller Da Vinci Code. Skulls & Bones, Yale’s oldest and most prestigious secret society-reserved only for a select fifteen lucky members of the senior class-boasts such alums like both Bush presidents, William Buckley Jr., and John Kerry.

They are also the only society with their own private island (on the St. Lawrence River between New York and Ontario). Many believe that the society is a “feeder organization” for America’s Central Intelligence Agency (CIA). In fact, the term “spook,” nomenclature for a spy, originated on Yale’s campus as a nickname for the secret society taps.

Do-it-yourself

Each of Yale’s dozen or so societies has a tomb where the twice-weekly gatherings-and decadent parties-take place. These tombs are easy to miss, even though they are quite a sight. Most are several stories high, supported by Greek columns, and have absolutely no windows. The gardens and interior are obviously off-limits to visitors, but you’re free to walk around outside their gates. Skulls is at 64 High St. Scroll and Key (444 College St), Berzelius (78 Trumbull St), and Wolf’s Head (214 York St) are also worth a visit.

THE definitive New York City guide for airport transfers

by Grant Martin on

One of my pet peeves as a frequent traveler is making complex transfers in from airports into the city. The worst is when I just assume that the metro attaches to airport, I can just mosey down from my gate, into the subway, out and into my hostel or hotel — only to find out that you have to take minibus k22 from terminal 1 to the city’s suburban center, transfer to a rickshaw then take that 4km into the city.

When I was younger, I was shocked when I found out that America’s largest city didn’t have direct subway connections to their airports (I heard that this was because the city wanted the profits from the cab companies — anyone else hear that?). So I had to figure out how to get out from LaGuarda or Newark or JFK into Manhattan, a task not too difficult but daunting for a first time visitor. I still get mixed up at LGA between the Q45 and Q33 buses.

Luckily, we now have our good friends at Flyertalk who have put together an excellent guide on transfer in from the city’s three co-terminals. At the Flyerguide, users take a comprehensive look at options, prices and routes, all in a convenient wiki form so that it can be maintained and updated en masse.

I wish they had one of these for every city.