Freak Shows, Fried Snickers In Bacon And Other Delights At The New York State Fair

by Dave Seminara on

Where can you eat a triple bypass, get a 25 cent foot massage, count mullets, see the head of a beautiful girl on the body of an ugly snake, mingle with filthy swine and pick up a novelty license plate emblazoned with the Confederate flag? That would be the New York State Fair in Syracuse, New York, which runs through Labor Day. Most Americans hear the words “New York” and conjure up images of an urban jungle filled with sophisticated people who drink fair trade coffee and don’t own television sets. But New York isn’t all about the Big Apple – it’s a huge state with plenty of rural, pastoral beauty and there’s no better place to get a flavor of the state’s small town charms than the New York State Fair, held every summer since 1841.

%Gallery-163764%
I started my fair experience on Wednesday with a freak show. The cavernous fairgrounds are filled with farm animals, every type of fried food imaginable, midway rides and games, psychics, and hordes of people in all shapes and sizes. It’s sensory overload but a tinny voice coming out of a loudspeaker caught our attention.

STOP! WAIT! How could this ever come to be? She has traveled throughout the world telling her strange story of how her body transformed into an ugly snake to thousands of people. See Angel, the snake girl, with the head of a lovely girl on the body of an ugly, scaly, 200-pound snake.

My older son Leo, 5, and I couldn’t resist, so we plunked down $1.50 and headed inside. The “beautiful girl” was a haggard, middle-aged woman whose “story” seemed to consist of nothing more than her maniacal cackling, and we were kicked out after trying to shoot video (see above). But getting ripped off is an important part of any state fair experience, as is sampling all of the incredibly unhealthy food options.

I saw stands selling corn dogs, fried dough, dough nuggets, funnel cakes, and wild hog wings before I finally came upon a stand selling vegetables and thought that perhaps I needed a new prescription. Mushrooms, zucchini and cauliflower? But upon closer inspection, it turned out they were all fried. Phew. And then I came across Jim Hasbrook’s Fried Specialties, a kind of Shangri-La for people unconcerned by clogged arteries.

Jim sells just about anything you can imagine deep-fried: pop tarts, PB & J, lasagna, pizza, jellybeans, cheese curds, and a host of other delicacies.

“Last year we tried selling deep fried butter too,” Hasbrook said. “But it melts too quick and the truth is, it doesn’t taste that good.”

So Hasbrook dropped the deep-fried butter but brought back two other hugely popular specialties – deep-fried snickers wrapped in bacon, and a treat he calls the “triple bypass,” which is PB & J, two Oreos and two chocolate chip cookies, all fried, of course. When I asked Jim and one of his employees, Matt, if they felt bad about serving such decidedly unhealthy treats they were unapologetic.

“It’s no worse than French fries or chicken wings,” said Matt, a rail thin 20-something who said he eats the fried treats all day long. “People put a bad name on fried food because they think it’s so bad for you, but it’s really not because everything gets stuck inside your gut anyways.”

After spending roughly the gross national product of Namibia on rides and games for my two little boys, we almost bit on another freak show – a 29-inch tall woman on display for $1 a peak, billed as a “West Indies Cultural Exhibit.” Instead, we hit some of the farm animal exhibits – cows, sheep, goats, lamas, horses and, my favorite: pigs! In the Dairy Cattle Barn, I got to meet a few farmers, but felt like I needed to keep my voice down, as a host of others that had been up during the night tending to their animals were fast asleep on cots (see photo).

I bumped into Eli Stoltman, from Georgetown, New York, just as he was gently kicking one of his prize swines, trying to rouse him from a nap.

“I’m due to show him in the next round but the little rascal won’t wake up,” he said.

“What’s his name?” I asked.

“Well, he doesn’t really have a name because he’s going to be eaten,” he said, as the swine rolled back over and went back to sleep.

Visiting a state fair is like getting a snapshot of life in rural, red-state America. The food is plentiful, the people are open, honest and approachable, and you see plenty of not-very politically correct things, like Confederate flag license plates, mullet count boards and Captain Porkin’ T-shirts. Every urbanite should go at least once to see how the other half lives.

On my way out, I paid $3 to let a carnie guess my age.

“Take your sunglasses off,” he commanded.

I did as I was told, and he said, “There we go, I can see your age right there in your eyes.”

And sure enough, he nailed my age, guessing that I was two months older than I actually am. I had been hoping for an ego boost but left with a reminder to lay off the deep-fried snickers wrapped in bacon.

(Photos and videos by Dave Seminara)

Inside The Urban Underground: Exploration Gets Personal

by Jeremy Kressmann on

New Yorker Steve Duncan was so desperate to pass his college math class, he crawled through a tunnel to finish it. A computer assignment was due the next day and the software to finish was inside a building closed for the night. In a moment of desperation, Steve came up with a crazy plan: he could sneak inside. Having heard from a classmate about a collection of well-known tunnels connecting the university’s buildings, he resolved to convince the friend to guide him. After escorting Steve to the tunnel entrance, the friend offered vague directions, wished him luck and promptly left. As Steve recalls:

“He took off in the other direction and … here I was absolutely alone – it was terrifying and eye-opening, because every building on campus was connected by these tunnels. I passed the math class, but what always stuck with me was that first moment of being alone in the dark and being absolutely terrified but realizing that if I could face that, I had access to every part of the campus.”

Duncan had educational goals in mind when he entered the underground tunnels that night, but his experience kick-started an interest in an activity he continues to practice to this day: urban exploration.

Urban explorers seek to investigate the centuries of infrastructure created (and sometimes abandoned) by modern civilization: disused factories, historic bridges and unknown tunnels entered using legal, and sometimes illegal, means. The reason they do it is not as easily defined. Urban explorers come from a range of backgrounds, ranging from urban planners to historians to preservationists to architecture lovers, photographers and just plain old thrill-seekers all of whom are often lumped together under the banner of this general term. Just in New York alone, there’s the founders of the website Atlas Obscura, Nick Carr from Scouting New York and Kevin Walsh from Forgotten New York, along with countless others living around the world. These individuals, taken together, are less a community than a loose network of individuals united by a common love: re-discovering and investigating the forgotten and sometimes misunderstood detritus of modern day urban civilization

Yet the popularity of urban exploration confronts an interesting dilemma facing many 21st Century travelers: now that so much of what we seek to “discover” has been Google mapped, investigated and written about ad nauseum, how is our relationship with the concept of exploration evolving? And what does it tell us about the future of travel?

%Gallery-163759%

Steve Duncan – Urban Historian, Explorer and Geographer
It’s been over a decade since that math class first brought Steve Duncan underground, but he’s continued to evolve his approach to urban exploration from his home base of New York City. Styling himself as an “urban geographer” and historian, Duncan continues to direct his energies towards understanding the unseen layers of infrastructure that constitute our urban environment – namely the sewers, bridges and subway tunnels of the Big Apple.

In more recent years, Duncan has gained increasing attention for his adventures, including a week-long expedition through the sewers under NYC with Norwegian explorer Erling Kagge and a short documentary made by filmmaker Andrew Wonder that follows him as he visits New York’s off-limits subway stations and climbs to the top of the Queensboro Bridge.

But Duncan’s urban adventures aren’t undertaken merely for thrills – they’re a means to an intriguing end. In fact, Duncan cares less about being the first to rediscover forgotten places than taking a fresh look at the urban environments we inhabit. Despite the fact more than 50% of our world’s population now lives in cities, Duncan notes, much of today’s travel media continues to focus on outward-looking explorations of far-flung places perceived to be “exotic” – for instance, the wild jungles of Borneo or the ancient temples of Jordan. Steve believes his own adventures constitute an equally exotic form of adventure – a new inward-focused method of exploration.

As he notes, “I’m not interested in going to places nobody’s been before, [but rather] I’m interested in how we shape places.” This life-long history lover views exploration not as a means for public recognition but rather as a way to better understand his personal passion for the ever-changing nature of cities. Whether or not he can “claim the place” as his is irrelevant – he’s more interested in understanding. As he tells it, “All exploration to some extent is personal. It doesn’t matter if someone’s been there before. If it’s new to you, it’s still exploration.”

Taken together, Duncan’s adventures constitutes a kind of inward-driven “time travel” – a concept in which the worlds of history, the growth and decay of cities and adventure travel merge together to define a new opportunity all of us as travelers can take to re-examine the everyday world around us as a source of curiosity.

Dylan Thuras – Cartographer of Curiosities

Not all stories of urban exploration involve spending weeks in tunnels under New York City. For Dylan Thuras, co-founder of website Atlas Obscura, a mind-altering childhood trip to House on the Rock in Wisconsin defined his early travel memories. The strange house is part museum and part hall of curiosities, filled with bizarre collections of artwork, carousel rides and giant biological specimens. As Dylan recalls, “the fact that this could be tucked away in the woods in sleepy Wisconsin made me feel like there were these magical worlds all over the place … if I just knew how to look, I would start to find these fantastical places everywhere”

Ever since that moment, Thuras and his co-founder Joshua Foer of Atlas Obscura have dedicated their website to altering travelers’ perspectives of the places worth visiting on their itineraries. To date they’ve built a worldwide, user-driven database highlighting more sites on all seven continents. As an example of the sites Atlas uncovers, Thuras mentions two sites in Florence, Italy – whereas the Uffizi Gallery is probably on most travelers’ radar, Dylan and Joshua also want to help you discover La Specola, the museum of wax anatomical models that contains a specimen of astronomer Galileo’s middle finger.

As Dylan points out, if an attraction isn’t listed on the top ten list in a guidebook “… it is easy to slip into anonymity, obscurity and disappear. I want to give people a sense that there is so much more than those ten things and that they might find that they have a better time if they venture into new territory.”

The style of exploration advocated by Thuras seeks to shift the context of the worlds we already know. That’s a far cry from the conception many travelers have in their heads of an idealized explorer discovering uncharted lands. Says Thuras: “This isn’t [exploration] in the Victorian sense of climbing the tallest mountain, or finding the source of a river … but in the sense that every one of us can find new and astonishing things if we look for them … it doesn’t always have to be about far-flung adventures.”

Urban Exploration – What’s Next?

Duncan and Thuras may appear to occupy different ends of the urban exploration spectrum, but their motivation stems from a distinct similarity. After years of endless exploring, categorizing and searching, both have arrived at the realization that our mundane daily worlds can be unknown places of curiosity and wonder. The challenge of getting there then, isn’t in the physical act of getting there. Explorers like Duncan do face large risks of injury in their wanderings, but it’s not on the scale of Ernest Shackleton, Captain James Cook or Edmund Hilary.

The difference in these explorers’ adventures thus seems to be a mental reframing of what we conceive of as exploration. Their perception of what is worthy of our consideration and interest as travelers is gradually shifting from the physical towards the mental. In the relentless search for finding the most far-flung undiscovered locations on earth, all of us as travelers have neglected to look right in front of our faces at the places we inhabit everyday as worthy of discovery. Unlike Steve Duncan the journey might not require a crawl through a sewer to appreciate, but ultimately it can be just as rewarding.

The Value Of Second Visits

by Rachel Friedman on

We fall in love with places, just like we do with people. Maybe you worship Chicago or Bangkok or Buenos Aires – or all three. Regardless of the locale, certain corners of the world feel like they belong to us, so profound is our sense of attachment to them.

Some of these spots we adore because of their aesthetics, while others are tied to memorable experiences – where you had a romantic first kiss, or swallowed that disgusting bug to prove your backpacker mettle.

And then there are those places beloved because they are settings for what I call the “traveler epiphany.” It’s that moment (or moments) when you realize travel is not merely a take-it-or-leave-it hobby but rather that you must travel. It is an Urge with a capital U that cannot be ignored. Wherever you realized this, whether on an elephant in Thailand or at a barbeque in New Jersey, you no doubt remember the revelation as a powerful one – and fondly – and this is probably how you remember the place where you first experienced it, too.

But recently I returned to Australia, one of the countries that helped solidify my identity as a traveler, and was surprised by how unfamiliar it had become in my absence. I hadn’t visited in eight years, when I briefly lived there. I was biding my time back then, a new college grad, when an Aussie friend invited me to stay. We had met the summer before in Ireland, where I had started entertaining the notion that I might like not just to travel but to settle in somewhere foreign – and digging my heels into the Sydney sand for a stretch felt like an excellent plan.On that first trip to Australia, I lived with my friend, Carly, and her parents, Pete and Muriel, who quickly became a surrogate family. Carly was the sister with whom I had the kind of dangerous, youthful adventures easy to glamorize after you’ve lived through them. Pete and Muriel’s happiness was a revelation, and they single-handedly restored my faith in the institution of marriage. Sydney itself came across as a land of good cheer and good times, like Ireland without the bad weather. Every Aussie was beautiful and free-spirited. We went to the beach every day. In sentimental hindsight, even my dead-end waitressing job was a joy. If you had asked me then about my soul mate, I would have named Sydney, and I would only have been half joking.

Immediately upon arriving back in the United States, I began infusing my time in Australia with nostalgia, like a baker carefully injecting cream into pastry. For years after I visited, I proclaimed to friends and family: I would move to Sydney. I would. I treated the country like a dead boyfriend, one who I desperately wished to see again but who was now, sadly, entirely inaccessible.

***

Upon returning to Australia this past June, my old notions of the place were put to the test – from the moment I landed, in fact. I remembered everyone in Sydney as tan, good-looking surfer types, and distinctly recall how even the passport control agent was crush-worthy. This time around, though, the immigration officials seemed just as pale and beleaguered as in the U.S. (though not quite as miserable as in the U.K.). The points of difference didn’t stop there. My Sydney had been cheap but this new Sydney was expensive (an effect of the devalued American dollar). In my Sydney, the stunning Opera House had an almost angelic glow but in this new city it was reduced to a dull aluminum block on certain rainy, winter days. Even my second family had changed. Carly was pregnant and no more able to replicate our hard-partying youth than I was (on my 30th birthday I had made the unhappy discovery that hangovers now lasted two or three days instead of one). Pete and Muriel were still the loving couple I remembered, but had they always nagged each other like that? My time in Sydney started taking on a surreal quality as I processed this new reality, scanning my archive of material from eight years prior in order to make sense of these new impressions.

Was I seeing this altered Sydney because of some inherent change in the city itself or because I was different? Probably a little bit of both. Surely we cannot expect places to stay exactly the same. Just like us, they evolve. But I had also changed as a person and as a traveler. I wasn’t a wide-eyed backpacker this time around. Like realizing the difference between loving someone and being in love with the idea of loving someone, I was no longer throwing myself at every country I visited. I was more investigative, more circumspect.

Once I realized this, I put less pressure on Sydney to conform to the ideal city of my past, and was able to see a more balanced view of the place I still adore – even more so because of this new understanding.

People seem to be happier when they look back on their lives through a nostalgia lens, filtering out the unpleasant and keeping its opposite. But is it good for travel?

Returning to Sydney was an unsettling lesson in the ways we can warp places to suit our memories of them. But ultimately I’ve learned that I like the exercise of returning. It’s nice feeling your way around somewhere for a second or third or fourth time, when you’ve already done all the greatest tourist hits and are now relieved of any particular duties besides absorbing the place.

Australia is no longer just one of the countries I discovered myself as a traveler. It’s now also where I learned something about the way I want to travel. And I’m grateful to Sydney for showing me this new piece of my traveler identity – and for having the best coffee in the world. But that might just be the nostalgia talking.

Songs That Fit The Moment: When Music And Travel Meld

by Laurel Miller on

Has science or popular culture coined a term for the phenomenon of the random playing of a song that perfectly describes a travel situation or mood? Probably. But whatever it is or isn’t called, this scenario is something that, once in a great while, happens to all of us when we’re traveling.

I’m not talking about favorite road trip songs or music you queue up to fit the destination. Allow me to provide you with three key examples from my own experience. Note that sometimes it’s not so much the meaning of the song, but its title.

Exhibit A: My college boyfriend, and first love, had just dumped me, and I was despondent. A good friend had invited me to seek refuge at his family’s gorgeous homestead in Santa Cruz; as I tooled up Highway 101, I felt hopeful for the first time in weeks. Dusk fell, and I approached the wooded exit for my friend’s house, when Temple of the Dog’s “Say Hello to Heaven” came on. I literally had to pull over, I was so blown. As a side note, shortly before we broke up, my ex and I were driving to a concert, and Pink Floyd’s “Run Like Hell” played. Hmmm.

Exhibit B: One year later, I made the colossal decision to leave a stagnant life earning minimum wage in California, and go to culinary school in Vail, Colorado. No sooner had I crossed the LA County line when X’s “Los Angeles (She had to leave/Los Angeles)” blasted from my radio.

Exhibit C: Five days later, I descended the steep pass into Vail, gaping at the slender waterfalls cascading onto the valley floor. “Follow Your Bliss” by the B-52’s began to play. To this day, I’ve never felt so much certainty about a life choice. That year in Vail was incredible, and ultimately, led to a career in food and travel writing.

I asked my fellow Gadlingers what songs define travel moments for them, and their answers were all over the (ahem) map. For more on Pam Mandel’s exile in not-quite post-Soviet Leningrad and Robin Whitney’s quest for a fresh start, read on after the jump:Pam Mandel: “Hotel California.” Just click on the link; you’ll be glad you did.

Jessica Marati: “Under Pressure,” by David Bowie, while walking the streets of New York City.

Robin Whitney: I’d been eyeing a move to California for some time, but everyone in Chicago would tell me awful stories about the “fakeness” of LA, or some other negative opinion about how sick I’d get of the good weather [Laurel here. As a recent refugee of Seattle, I find it hard to believe these Chicagoans actually love their climate. Sun: Good. Gray, cold and wind: Bad.] and, in their words, “lack of culture.”

In late April, I was visiting my brother in North Hollywood, stuck in epic traffic, and feeling defeated. Then a preview of Best Coast’s new CD came on, featuring “The Only Place (Why would you live anywhere else/We’ve got the ocean, got the babes/Got the sun, we’ve got the waves).” It lifted my spirits instantly, and I decided I deserve a year of exploring a new city, so I’ll be looking at apartments soon.

Sean McLachlan: My first solo road trip was also my first cross-country trip. I was driving across the Sonora Desert, when Blue Oyster Cult’s “Last Days of May” came on (Parched land no desert sand/Sun was just a dot/And a little bit of water goes a long way, ’cause it’s hot/Three good buddies were laughing and smoking in the back/Of a rented ford/They couldn’t know they weren’t going far). If you read all the lyrics to the song, you’ll learn why it likely made an impression on young Sean.

Melanie Renzulli: Just about every time I drive into New York, “Empire State of Mind” by Jay-Z starts to play. I’ll also always associate Bruce Springsteen’s “Born in the USA” with the first time I visited Germany, because it was playing in the shuttle on the way to ground transportation in Frankfurt. I was an exchange student, it was my first trip overseas, and Springsteen was on? It blew my mind.

Got any defining travel song moments? Share them with us!

[Photo credits: Paris With Love, Flickr user Epiclectic; Hotel California, Flickr user saguayo]


FAA To Study Use Of Electronic Devices On Flights

by Kraig Becker on

Having a smartphone or tablet with me when I travel has been incredibly convenient over the past few years. Not only has it allowed me to stay in contact with friends and family, it has also allowed me to be much more productive while on the road too. That is except for those annoying 20 minutes between the time the airplane door is closed and the point at which we reach a “safe cruising altitude.” During that period of time I’m usually stuck looking at the back of the chair in front of me or paging through the “Skymall” catalog. That could all change soon, however, as the FAA has said that it will investigate the use of electronics in flight and possibly expand the options on what is allowed during takeoff and landing.

According to various reports, a new government-industry group is being formed to study how passengers use their devices in flight and what impact those devices could conceivably have on the aircraft. The group will examine the current technology standards and review the process under which gadgets are tested to determine if any dangers arise by allowing travelers to use their smartphones or tablets throughout the entire flight. Members of the group, which are expected to include representatives of the airline industry, will review the current policy to decide if there is any room for change.

While this is good news for travelers, the FAA is quick to state that there isn’t likely to be a change in its policy towards the use of cellphones for making voice calls. Passengers are currently prohibited from making or receiving calls once the plane door is closed and while the rules may change for how other devices can be used, this ban will probably remain in place.I for one welcome this news. As someone who rarely leaves home without his iPad, I now use that device to meet all kinds of inflight entertainment needs. Not only does it store my music, games and movies, but also books and magazines too. When I can’t use it during a flight, there really isn’t a whole lot for me to do to help pass the time. The fact that many pilots now use Apple’s tablet in the cockpit should be a testament to the safety of the device and the minimal impact it has on electronic equipment aboard the aircraft as well.

Besides, it’s not like all passengers are shutting down their electronics anyway. I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve been sitting next to someone on a plane who continues to send text messages, listen to music or check email, even after the flight attendant has asked them to shut off their device. I was once on an international flight where the guy across the aisle from me kept his smartphone on the entire way, stealthily taking a glance at it every ten minutes or so. What he hoped to find on his screen I have no idea. It wasn’t like he was going to get a phone call or text while over the Atlantic or something.

There is no time frame as to when the group will be formed or how long it will take for them to wrap up their investigation. It can’t come fast enough as far as I’m concerned.