Après-ski with the best of them

by Iva Skoch on

It has been a while since “après-ski” meant simply “after skiing.” Today, après-ski is a whole philosophy. What you do after you ski often means more than how you ski, which is undoubtedly good news for people like myself.

Concierge.com has compiled a list of 13 best après-ski activities in the world. Here are the first 7 to give you an idea:

  1. Ultimate Suite — The Penthouse at the Sky Lodge, Park City, Utah (What’ll Snow You: Tickling the ivories on the baby grand piano in the 338-square-foot living room)
  2. Most Crackling Public Fireplace — The Great Room at the Ritz-Carlton, Bachelor Gulch, Beaver Creek, Colorado (What’ll Snow You: The fireplace is a full three stories tall.)
  3. Niftiest Night Light — Hotel Alyeska, Girdwood, Alaska (What’ll Snow You: Watching the Northern Lights in your pajamas-and wondering if it was all a dream in the morning)
  4. Ultimate Spa Treatment — Virgin Touch Spa, The Lodge, Verbier, Switzerland (What’ll Snow You: Sweet relief provided by Sir Richard Branson’s own massage therapist.)
  5. Hottest Private Hot Tub — Game Creek Chalet, Vail, Colorado (What’ll Snow You: The bubbly views from 10,500 feet)
  6. Most Crackling Private Fireplace — The Chalet at Twin Farms, Barnard, Vermont (What’ll Snow You: The aroma from the fireplace, matched only by the perfumes from the award-winning kitchen)
  7. Finest Place to Drink Al Fresco — Le Chamois, Squaw Valley, California (What’ll Snow You: The California sunshine)

Get the full list here.

By the way, après-snowboarders are also welcome.

How to pick up girls: Lessons from a Japanese Casanova

by Aaron Hotfelder on

“I always teach my students that sex comes first. Then you figure out whether the woman is worth marrying later.” This sage dating advice comes from Satoshi Fujita (right), a self-styled Casanova and owner of a successful school in Japan called the “Pickup School for Men Who Can’t Get Any.”

According to a new article from Wired, Fujita’s classes are offered to Japanese businessmen who have little interaction with women, and need a little assistance in the art of seduction.

Attending night classes is customary in Japan, but Fujita’s “Pickup School” is one of the first of its kind. Its classes typically take place not in classrooms, but out on the streets of Tokyo, where students can try out their bumbling advances on unsuspecting passersby.

So do the classes work? Here’s a testimonial from an actual customer:

“Since joining Mr. Fujita’s school, I have had five successful relationships. I lost my virginity six months into the course, and now I can now communicate with women. I’m very grateful.”

Whole thing here. Pathetic-slash-hilarious slideshow here.

Photo of the Day (02/18/08)

by Iva Skoch on

I love the reflection in the wet pavement. Shanghai can look like so many different cities, depending on where in the city you take the photo. This one, taken by petetamproductions reminds me of Paris.

With that said, I think this lens has definitely been kind to Shanghai. I have stayed on that street and it wasn’t quite so sophisticated or so shiny.

***To have your photo considered for the Gadling Photo of the Day, go over to the Gadling Flickr site and post it.***

Celebrating Mardi Gras in St. Louis, Missouri

by Aaron Hotfelder on

Whether it’s the city’s French roots or its large Catholic population, St. Louis, Missouri, has long had one of the best Mardi Gras celebrations in the United States. Festivities take place in Soulard, an historic district of south St. Louis, and they include a parade, live music, and of course, more beads and libations than you could ever imagine.

St. Louisans like to boast about their sports teams and Forest Park, but mention the words “Cardinals” and “Rams” outside of the US and chances are you’ll only be met with blank stares. However, if you tell people that you live in the home of Anheuser-Busch, or Budweiser, chances are much better that you’ll encounter a nod of recognition.

I might not trust those who boast of being from a “beer town” to drive me home on a Saturday night, or to perform open-heart surgery after a happy hour, but I’d feel no qualms about asking them to throw a massive Mardi Gras celebration. Second in the U.S. only to the legendary festivities in New Orleans, St. Louis’ Mardi Gras attracts hundreds of thousands of people to its streets each year– more or less depending on the weather, which was, mercifully, rather mild this year.

Admittedly, St. Louis’ celebration is usually a bit cooler and more tame than that of New Orleans, its neighbor down river. Rather than wearing wacky, revealing clothing, most revelers in St. Louis do their best to bundle up in the cold weather– though a stray nipple or two can almost always be found.

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This year, melting snow made for some rather slushy conditions on the streets, and my shoes soaked up water like a Brawny paper towel. But once that first sip of Budweiser– sweet nectar of the gods– touched my lips, I quickly forgot about my squishy shoes. Five hours later, as I stumbled groggy-eyed out of the all-you-can-drink Budweiser tent, I was just thankful I still had shoes.

Inside the beer tent, I witnessed people jockeying for position alternately in the beer line and then the bathroom line, and repeating as necessary. It occurred to me that drinking enough to kill a horse is hard work, and that those of us in the Midwest work harder at it than most. As Chuck Klosterman once wrote, “There are a lot of drunks in this world, but people in the Midwest drink differently than everywhere else I’ve ever been; it’s far less recreational. You have to stay focused, you have to work fast, and you have to swallow constantly.”

As I walked unsteadily down a Soulard street, I eventually ran into a large crowd rocking out to the musical stylings of Evolution, the self-professed “World’s Greatest Journey Tribute Band.” They weren’t the biggest name in the music business– hell, they didn’t even impersonate the biggest name in the music business– but when I eventually stood in the Porta-Potty line behind their lead singer (whom I referred to as “fake Steve Perry,” as in “You guys sounded great, fake Steve Perry”) somehow it all seemed perfect.

How NOT to kill your significant other while traveling

by Aaron Hotfelder on

Mark Twain once said, “Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness.” An excellent quote, but he could have added one more item to the list of things traveling often destroys– relationships.

A long trip with one’s significant other frequently has a way of transforming an extended honeymoon into an exercise in controlling one’s murderous desires. Habits and idiosyncrasies that once seemed endearing can turn into annoying character flaws, especially when you’re with the same person all day, every day.

In honor of the approaching Valentine’s Day, Budget Travel has a new article on how not to let traveling together destroy your relationship. Some of their tips?

“Play silly games. Like ‘Which movie star does that driver we just passed look like?'”

Hmm, that was kinda dumb. This one’s a little more like it:

“You don’t have to spend every minute together. On a trip to London, we set aside an afternoon to shop on our own for jewelry and music. After a few hours of exploring alone, it’s fun to regroup and share your adventures.”

One last one: “Find your own phrase to say to support your partner when you don’t have the privacy you want or when life on the road is getting you down. For instance, a simple ‘Good morning’ can mean ‘I love you.’ “

That was sooo sweet. And, no, I’m not crying, my eyes are just watering. That’s my allergies– there’s a lot of pollen in here.

Read all the tips here.