3 Great Twin Cities Restaurants

by Elizabeth Seward on

I spent some time in Minneapolis and St. Paul back in December 2011. It was deafeningly cold. The tentacles of the frosty wind were long and thin, the kind that can fit into any permitting small space, including ear canals. More than anything, I remember my eardrums feeling as though they were bleeding from the shock. I was staying with some relatives in an apartment building that didn’t have its own yard, so I had to put my boots and thick coat on several times a day to walk my dog. It hurt; I could feel it in my bones. During times like these, our bodies crave warmth and sustenance. So I spent time eating. Three of the restaurants I visited in the Twin Cities are worth sharing.

%Gallery-161130%The Happy Gnome

Located in Cathedral Hill, this New American Gastropub seems to do everything right. I’m fond of Belgian beers and their beer list sent me sailing through alcohol-heavy, tasty options. The veggie sandwich I ordered was incredible and not at all the obligatory “Please The Vegetarians Before They Cause A Stink” type of sandwich. The decor was beautiful and the service was good. The only complaint I had – that it was really cold – doesn’t even resonate with me as entirely valid since it was December and Minnesota.

Broder’s Pasta Bar

After reading rave reviews online, I indulged my husband’s Italian birthday dinner wishes and took him to Broder’s. A short wait later, we were seated at the bar, the one that’s referenced in the name of the restaurant. Our waitress was extremely friendly despite crowd (the place was packed on a Wednesday night). Upside down colanders hung as lampshades overhead. Our varied breadbasket was refilled several times. Our wine was savory and our food followed suit.

112 Eatery

Exposed brick. Wood floors. Dim lighting. A playlist that sounded like it had been exported from my personal iTunes. I stopped into 112 for dessert only, but I wish I’d tried the entrees, too. But as for their use of sugar, they did it well. We got the Tres Leches Cake and the Triple Chocolate Cake with graham cracker ice cream. It was so good that we went back the next day before we left town to get a gift card for the relatives who were hosting us so that they could dine in full and allow us to, in effect, try our hand at tasting the menu vicariously.

Daunting as the Twin Cities may be during the starkest winter months, there’s solace to be found in the heated indoor restaurants and bars sprinkled throughout the city.

Hotel And Event Hosts Sued By Family Of Girl Killed Sliding Down A Banister

by Jessica Festa on

On October 30, 2010, 23-year-old Megan Duskey fell to her death at a Halloween-themed ball at the Palmer House Hilton. The young elementary school teacher at Orville T. Bright Elementary School was attempting to slide down a banister when she fell four floors. Now, Duskey’s family is claiming the girl’s death was the fault of the “Haunted Hotel Ball” hosts, and are suing for more than $500,000.

According to the Chicago Sun-Times, the family believes the event hosts allowed ticket-holders to consume an exorbitant amount of alcohol without supervision or protection. The ten-count suit, which was filed Tuesday, is naming Hilton Worldwide, the Palmer House Hilton, Surreal Chicago and Adrenaline Y2K as the hosts of the party.

The Cook County Medical Examiner’s Office stated that Duskey was dead at the scene, ruling the death an accident.

While efforts on Tuesday night to reach Hilton Worldwide and Adrenaline Y2K were unsuccessful, CEO of Surreal Chicago, Brian Pfeiffer, declined to comment based on the fact Duskey’s death occurred in the lobby of the hotel, and not while she was at the party.

[Image via NBC Chicago]

The Jetovator: The Flying Water Bike That Propels Riders 30 Feet In The Air

by Jessica Festa on




From kitesurfing and surfing to cave diving, there are a lot of fun opportunities for those who want to have an adventurous water experience. The new Jetovator, however, may win the prizes for most original and most daring.

The Jetovator looks like a mix between a jet ski and a motorbike, and attaches to a giant water spray nozzle to propel riders 30 feet into the air. If you’d rather explore what’s underneath the water, the watercraft can also push you 10 feet below the surface.

According to Digital Trends, the Jetovator is simple to control, using handlebars for direction and speed. Furthermore, riders will be able to do tricks in the air, like quick turns and flips. When it’s running low on batteries, simply hook it up to a water power source to charge.

The one downside of this daring toy? Its price tag. At $9,000 for the standard model with no upgrades, experiencing this unique adventure may be difficult for some. However, if you’re looking to do something out of the ordinary, the Jetovator could be a worthwhile investment.

Would you pay $9,000 to purchase your own Jetovator?

Sky Rock: Morgantown, West Virginia

by Elizabeth Seward on

Sky Rock. It sounds like what it is: a Native American name given to a large, protruding rock that is stacked high into the sky. I had heard about Sky Rock in passing when I went to visit my family in West Virginia. I had passed the road that led up to the rock several times and yet never lifted my turn signal to make that left. But my last trip to West Virginia was different. My father had just been hospitalized again and the outlook seemed bleaker than ever before. My husband and two dogs joined me in my van and we drove 30 hours from Austin, Texas, to Morgantown, West Virginia. My father has been struggling with his health for years now, but my trips home prior to this one broached the subject more gently. I would ask to cook dinner for the family, but never really insist. By the same token, I would ask my father to join me for walks or hikes, but always leave the request open-ended and optional. This trip was different.

%Gallery-161128%I first saw my father and mother in the hospital room, with the hospital’s lead cardiologist hovering over my father’s bed, explaining his prognosis with as much sensitivity as he could. I was exhausted from the drive and hardly able to combat the dizziness that accompanies this specific sort of stress. When the doctor left the room, I spoke firmly and with authority to my own parents.

“I’m in charge while I’m here. I’ll be cooking every meal. No questions asked. I didn’t drive 30 hours for questions.”

Once he was discharged from the hospital, I went to the grocery store and stocked up on the kind of food we simply never had around growing up: fresh produce. I prepared every meal with pleasure, relishing in the lack of resistance I faced in doing so. On my second day there, just one day after my father had been released from the hospital, I decided to finally visit Sky Rock for sunset.

“You guys should come,” I announced, unsure on whether or not my father was actually in any condition to walk along anything other than a straight and smooth path.

My parents surprised me when they agreed. We led our two dogs and their two pugs, into the car and went on our way. We parked the car at the bottom of the Sky Rock hill, known also as Dorsey’s Knob. A beautiful wall outfitted with mosaic art was the first thing we saw to our left. To our right rolled a steep drop leading to a pond surrounded by lush Appalachian greenery. We began the journey up the hill. My mother was nervous at first and instructed us to continue up the hill without them; she said my father’s heart couldn’t take the stress. He, however, was feeling restless after having spent a week in the hospital and he insisted on following us up the hill. As a friend recently pointed out to me, I might have inherited my streak of perseverance from him.

Once at the top of the graffiti-clad boulder, we lounged alongside our joyful dogs and consumed the expansive beauty of the colorful West Virginia sky at sunset. The West Virginia sky smears pastel-like colors across its canvas on every clear night. This is one of the things I love about West Virginia – the fact that the glowing sky at sunset is inspiration enough for a man like my father to climb the path to Sky Rock just one day after his release from the hospital.

Vagabond Tales: Cellphones And Candy Bars In The Floating Islands Of Peru

by Kyle Ellison on

There is a running joke amongst Peruvians that when it comes to Lake Titicaca, Peru got the “Titty,” and Bolivia got the “kaka.”

All anatomical and bathroom jokes aside, the world’s highest navigable lake does in fact stretch across the borders of both nations. When read from left to right on a map, it would appear that the Peruvians may have a reason on which to make their case.

My mind didn’t spend too much time dwelling on this, however, as I motored across the placid lake waters for the first time. At 12,500 feet in elevation, even the slightest amount of breeze can create a frigid wind chill, causing me to tug my alpaca wool hat a little tighter over my ears while en route to Las Islas de Uros, the Floating Islands of Peru.

The thought which most occupied my mind as we motored away from the lakeside town of Puno – the Andean version of a seedy port town full of con-artists, liquor dens and ne’er do wells – was just how these islands even float in the first place.

A collection of 44 islands not far off the coastline of Puno, Las Islas de Uros are created from intertwined sections of floating bricks of mud, which are then covered in fresh, dry totora reeds harvested from the shallow parts of the lake. Thatched together in much the same fashion as palm frond draped palapas and tiki bars, the end result are islands no larger than a football field, which provide a home for the native Uro people of the lake.

And here’s the kicker: they even have an anchor to keep them from floating away. Seriously, islands with anchors – who ever would have thought it?

%Gallery-161058%Why, you might ask, would anyone choose to live on floating islands?

The Uro people, native inhabitants of the Lake Titicaca region who were conquered by the Aymara and later the Inca, opted to create floating islands as a defense mechanism in the event their part of the lake ever came under attack. Outside forces invade, pull anchor, move the village elsewhere, problem solved.

While the Uro may have lost their language to the Aymara and were subjected to enslavement by the Inca, a few hundred Uro residents still populate the floating, reed-strewn islands. Despite managing to somewhat maintain their culture, the Uro people inhabiting the floating islands are now being subjected to a new type of invasion generally known as tourism.

Arguably the lifeblood, which keeps the local economy afloat (pun intended), the hordes of tourists who flock to see these floating islands have subjected the remaining Uro people to an entirely new set of challenges.

For one, as more people come ashore to their islands and trample upon the reeds, the islands literally need to be replaced and rebuilt faster than before. Every step you take on one of the islands is accompanied by a loud crunching sound, and you actually sink about three inches into the island whenever you move. As the reeds are broken they are subjected to water and rot, and according to our local guide, the islands need to be “replaced” faster now than ever before.

Then, of course, there is the issue of begging children. Whether in the form of directly asking for money or by trying to sell you something you simply don’t want, for some reason, when a child lives on an island made out of sticks and the daily entertainment consists of a boat wake shaking the entire island, you feel a little more compelled to buy something from them, even though you know promoting child labor is wrong.

I mean, they actually live on an island made of sticks. How much can they really have? They probably take whatever money they make and occasionally venture into Puno for vital supplies such as quinoa grains or a used pair of shoes, right?

Let’s just say it would be nice if this thought were true.

From my perch on a “Uro yacht,” a two-story vessel made entirely out of totora reeds and bedecked in dragon heads like some sort of alpine, Peruvian Viking ship, I was witness to a reality-shattering event, which took place right in front of my eyes.

Having stopped for a lunch break on one of the larger islands, I had spent the last 45 minutes or so watching as traditionally dressed women sold souvenirs to camera-toting tourists and as small children demanded money for taking their photo. Pretty standard stuff, really.

From the number of tourists crunching their way around the island and the number of Nuevo Soles changing hands, it appeared the islanders were doing a pretty brisk business.

Then, in a moment I couldn’t make up if I tried, the island was approached by a wooden boat with a sputtering outboard motor and an oversized yellow sign. From the rush of children and local women headed down towards the water’s edge it was apparent this was a popular boat.

Taking a moment to tie his vessel to a metal stake wedged into the reeds, the floating merchant turned his attention back towards the women and children and indicated he was open for business.

Reaching into the deep pockets of their colorful, vibrantly flowing clothing, the traditionally dressed Uro women of the historic Islas de Uros then proceeded to grab all of their newly acquired fistfuls of cash and promptly spend all of it on …

Inca cola and candy bars!

But wait, that’s not all. Once the women had dutifully purchased no less than 14 liters of cola and about 40 candy bars for their soon-to-be-toothless children, they reached further into their pockets to grab some more money in order to …

recharge their cellphones!

Out from the depths of one of their six clothing layers came small, portable cellphones, and all the mothers proceeded to add more credit to their pre-paid accounts.

Somewhat deflated, I boarded a separate wooden boat back towards Puno, excited to have experienced such a culturally unique corner of the world, but somewhat disappointed that even here in the middle of Lake Titicaca on islands floating somewhere between ocean and sky, the far-reaching tentacles of modernity had turned it into a place eerily similar to everywhere else.

Want more travel stories? Read the rest of the “Vagabond Tales” over here.