Differences in dining – Welcome to America!

by Scott Carmichael on

Welcome foreign readers (yeah, we know you read us!). Chances are, you’ve been reading the news, and with a little bit of luck, you’ll take advantage of a favorable exchange rate, and come pay us a visit this Summer.

If so, here are 10 things we do differently in this country when it comes to eating (and drinking) out.



Free soda refills



In the vast majority of establishments, you’ll only have to pay for your first soft drink. Unlike Europe, where a refreshing beverage is usually served tepid, we like to fill up on ice, and provide complimentary refills on drinks.

Most fast food restaurants will let you tap your own drink, and unless there is a sign specifically banning free refills, go ahead and fill up.

Smart people will wonder why stores sell small, medium and large drinks, when you can essentially get the same amount of drink for a lower price. That my friend, is the right way to think! And before you ask – no, you won’t get free refills on beer, and if you do, please let me know where that was!

Portion sizes

Yes – I’m fully aware that the United States is the source of many jokes about big portions and big people. We actually have ourselves to thank for that. Times are slowly changing, but there are still plenty of restaurants where the portion size is picked so it looks huge, not based on how much food one person actually needs.

The Doggy bag

The doggy bag picks up where the previous topic ended. Large portions are not served just to make you overeat – you paid for your food, so feel free to ask for a container at the end of your meal to carry any leftovers back home (or to your hotel).

Nobody will give you strange looks; quite the opposite in fact. You’d better have a good reason to leave food behind.

Tipping

Tipping is a really complicated topic, because it differs from anything you are probably used to. Tipping in most parts of the world is what you do to round up the check (cheque). If service was really good, you might even throw in an extra Euro or two.

In the US, tipping is what you do to pay your server, maître d’, sommelier or other hospitality worker. Your tip is their salary, as they most likely won’t be making anything over minimum wage, or less.

Refusing to tip, or tipping less than 15%, is what you do when your service was abysmal, not when you run out of money or don’t think it is worth it. When you order in a restaurant, keep in mind that you’ll have to add between 15% and 20% of your final bill for the tip. Tipping is not expected in fast food restaurants.

When you dine with a group, you’ll often be expected to pay a mandatory tip, which will be added to the bill. Unless service was horrible (in which case you should have asked for a manager), the restaurant will expect you to pay this. Sadly, the definition of “group” has decreased in recent years, and nowadays 6 people is usually where you start to be considered a group. The mandatory group tip is usually between 18% and 22%.

And if this wasn’t enough, you’ll be expected to tip the valet, cab or limo driver, bellhop and bar tender, and some people may even suggest you leave a tip in your room for the maid. The Internet is full of tipping resources, so to prevent an embarrassing situation, do a quick search for a crash course on tipping.

> > > Go to page 2 of “Differences in Dining – Welcome to America”

When karaoke turns deadly

by Josh Lew on

Karaoke is deadly. Deadly boring. That is, unless you happen to be quite drunk or with someone you are physically attracted to. I’ve never gone out to find a place to sing karaoke. But I have spent a lot of time in East Asia, where karaoke seems to seek you out. I’ve witnessed some violence as a result of the sing-along phenomenon. Usually, it stems from “you took my beer” rather than “hand over the mic.” Come to think of it, people get the most agitated when someone doesn’t sing, rather than when they sing too much.

But that wasn’t the case in Sandakan, Borneo recently. A 23 year-old man was stabbed to death in a fight that began when he refused to give up the karaoke mic. Abdul Sani Doli, the deceased, was apparently feeling the groove that night. Unfortunately, others in the bar were not. When he refused to give up the stage to the next person in line, an argument broke out. It only ended when Doli was stabbed by at least two other patrons on the street as he fled the scene.

Top 10 nightspots in the world

by Martha Edwards on

We each travel for different reasons, but for some travellers, a spectacular nightlife is a major draw to certain destinations. Which is why concierge.com sent a team of reporters out to find the 10 best nightspots in the world (man! I want that job … ) Here’s the list they came up with:

  1. Rooftop Cinema, Melbourne, Australia
  2. Cafe Cairo – Hamilton, Bermuda
  3. Melody Bar – Toronto, Canada
  4. Bar Yellow, Santiago, Chile
  5. Q Bar, Beijing, China
  6. Glamour Bar, Shanghai, China
  7. Monsoon, Shanghai, China
  8. 15cent15, Paris, France
  9. Cibeles, Mexico City, Mexico
  10. Terrasse, Renault, Mexico City, Mexico

Been to any of these places? Yeah, me neither, and I’ll probably never make it since I’m more of a fan of small, out-of-the-way, holes in the wall. But some of them sound kind of cool. To read about the picks more in-depth, click here.

Band on the Run: Rockin’ Out in Buffalo’s Allentown

by Ember Swift on
Ember Swift, Canadian musician and touring performer, will be keeping us up-to-date on what it’s like to tour a band throughout North America. Having just arrived back from Beijing where she spent three months (check out her “Canadian in Beijing” series), she offers a musician’s perspective on road life.

We drove over the border yesterday to a sunny early evening in Allentown, a Buffalo neighbourhood that was the location of our gig last night – a bar called “Nietzsche’s.”


Allentown is cool. It’s got the vibe of a community of artists, preservationists, historians, antique-lovers, and good chefs. The latter was easy to peg via the smells of incredible cooking coming from several local restaurants and taunting our hungry selves when we really needed to be unloading equipment and setting up for sound check.

This district of Buffalo is one that we’ve been in many times. I always feel comfortable here. It’s an area of the city that borders the downtown and seems to embrace diversity. There are rainbow flags and biker bars, gourmet restaurants and late-night snack stands, funky modern galleries flanked by dusty bookstores.

One of the bookstores also sold music and had displays of their used cds and cassettes in old-fashioned kids’ wagons out on the sidewalk. Love it!

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Historically, I learned last night that Allentown was named after the original settler to this land, Louis Allen, who bought the land in 1822 (around 29 acres) and used it to farm cattle. It is said that this very street, Allen Street, was his original cow path for transferring his herds from one edge of his property to the other. In 1832, he sold his land to the encroaching city and it was developed into both residential and commercial structures. Now, the Allentown region stretches 36 blocks or a half a mile squared.

After the gear was hauled in (thanks to some friends and Kenny, the resident and helpful sound guy), I stood on the street and just looked left and right to take it all in. I imagined a bunch of cows in place of the pedestrians and cars. I wondered how they’d react now to the pavement, the bright colours, the sounds of a nightlife hub starting to come alive in the early evening. Maybe they’d just graze the leaves of low-hanging trees and ignore us all. Maybe they’d leave their paddies expertly deposited on the sidewalks in disgust and wander away to greener parklands.

I wandered a block or so to truly appreciate the paint job on the local bar called “Boddington’s.” (At least, I think this is the name of it, although I know that’s also the name for a beer. Does anyone know?) It’s painted purple and decked out in rising flames as though it were a motorcycle or hot rod. They’re beautifully painted – must have taken forever! – and the neon beer signs in the windows were like the feather in the artist’s cap.

When I came back in a few minutes later, the gear was already half set up and I had to hustle to catch up to everyone. I unpacked my guitars and pedals plugging everything in while simultaneously chatting with Kenny about his last six months or so since we’ve been there last. He asked me about China and I asked him about some good artists he’d mixed lately.

It’s always nice to come to a place and actually know the people there. I always feel welcomed at Nietzsche’s.

This venue is definitely a rock room. The old wooden stage and banisters have the faint stench of stale beer and cigarettes (although it’s now non-smoking in there.) Maybe its name has inspired proliferation, but the bathrooms are home to so much graffiti that it takes a long time to pee, I find. I can’t help but read peoples’ philosophical outpourings. (It’s all well-placed, I’d say!) There are also great installations of paper mache artwork hanging in the room from the ceiling and a wonderful busted and slightly crooked ceiling fan that hangs right in front of the stage. I always laugh inwardly at the notion that at least there will be one fan, crooked or not, that will be in front of the stage when we play.

Kenny also has a collection of small tinker toys and dinky cars that are permanently stationed at his soundboard. I asked him if he ever finds some have disappeared after the shows he has in there. They’re fairly visible and my pessimistic self figured there’d be some drunken theft here and there. He said, “Yeah, of course. But, they all just appeared anyway so it doesn’t really make a difference.” I smiled at that idea. I liked the image of these little toys just coming and going as they were meant to, not permanently attached to his sound board or to the decorative role they are temporarily playing. Sort of like a toy liberation movement. People as pawns.

After the show, we hung out for a while in the parking lot with friends before pulling away from Allen Street and staying just a few blocks away, still in Allentown. We rarely stay over in Buffalo since it’s often just a one-off show that enables us to return to friend’s places in Toronto after we play, but the tour rolls on today into more U.S. cities.

I woke up this morning having dreamed about cows and toys taking over the city when the people have all disappeared. Buildings crumbled, trees growing out from broken windows and grass taking back the asphalt.

I guess we’ll never know.

Until that day, Allentown‘s worth a visit. In fact, a spontaneous night out to Nietzsche’s will probably introduce you to a great band you’ve never heard of. They have music every night and sometimes even a late and an early show.

When was the last time you did that?
Ignore the listings. Just take a stab.

Arrive.
Order a drink.

See what happens.

A Canadian In Beijing: La La Bar Land

by Ember Swift on

If I can suggest anything to a fellow traveller about entertainment and experience in other cultures, I would suggest taking in the gay scene in any major city in the world. Regardless of sexual orientation, I think it’s an amazing experience and I regularly seek out the “alternative” establishments to pepper my more mainstream music and dance club prowls.

Last night, I went to a women’s bar in Beijing.

Lesbians in Mandarin are called “La La” as a slang term (see character pictured – the larger of the two, repeated twice) and this is the main “La La Ba” (lesbian bar) in Beijing.

I went out with my new friend Sarah, an Australian who’s been here for six months and has offered to introduce me to people to help launch my research. I had learned in advance of coming to this city that a woman by the name of Qiao Qiao actually ran the “La La Ba” in Beijing. She is the same woman who recently released a single on YouTube called “Ai Bu Fen,” translated into “Love Doesn’t Discriminate” (literally: “love makes no difference or separation”). It is a song about love between two women. Qiao Qiao is considered the first out lesbian artist that the Chinese music scene has ever seen.And, it’s debatable as to whether the scene really even has seen her. This song was not commercially released in China, but was released outside of the country via the internet. At least, that’s what I’ve been told and I’m yet to know otherwise. I have so much to ask her about what it has been like for her. I was excited about the possibility of meeting her.

So, with this in mind, I trekked to the southeast part of the city to a venue called “Pipe” with Sarah and several other non-Chinese women living in Beijing who regularly frequent this venue. When we walked in, there was immediately a 30 kuai cover charge (50 kuai for men! Sorry guys!) and we filed into the crowded room filled with smoke and stares and gathered at the bar to order some drinks.

The dance floor was packed with gender-bending dance moves alongside of women in heels with hair piled high and arms in the air. I was hit suddenly by memories of 1994, the days when Ace of Bass and white denim jean jackets went hand-in-hand. I watched the crowd and the crowd watched us, a gaggle of “laowai” (slang for foreigners) whose presence was impossible to overlook.

This group of women told me that I wouldn’t meet Qiao Qiao there but gave me some good hope that a meeting would be possible while I’m here in Beijing. They promised to connect me through the Beijing women’s community to the right people with whom I can put the word out about my research.

Okay then. One of Sarah’s friends bought me a beer. Let the night begin.

We found some space beside a crowded booth in the back corner and some of the women I came with immediately spotted another non-Chinese couple a few feet away. Within moments, they were pulled into our conversation and drilled as to their nationality and their reasons for being in the city. Two more non-Chinese women came through the door moments later and proved to be more friends of this crowd and joined the crew. Now, we were an inimitable posse and I was starting to feel more and more uncomfortable by the blatant divide between “Laowai” and “Zhong Guo ren” (Chinese people).

A party of Chinese women were sandwiched next to us and I veered from the laowai group and smiled in their direction. One of the women smiled back and leaned towards me to ask me if I spoke Chinese. I responded that I did that then we had a brief chat about my reasons for being here and my interest in China. She consistently complimented my Mandarin and, despite the fact that these compliments are frequent from native Chinese speakers, I lapped it up and felt inspired by my comprehension, especially above the bad dance music.

Her friend also moved closer to take in the conversation and then asked me directly if I was a “T” or a “P”? I had been warned of this question by my friend Sarah who explained that there is still very much a gender division in the Beijing lesbian world along the lines of the western expressions “butch” and “femme.” Meaning, in Beijing, women identify as either “tomboys” or “pure girls” (which is loaded with implications that immediately trigger my feminist defenses!) and there is no room for a middle ground.

I responded that I don’t identify as either “T” or “P” and they nodded hesitantly and then re-phrased my poor Chinese into: “it’s not like that in foreign countries.” I nodded in agreement despite the inadequacy of my response and the conversation moved to other things like tattoos, dancing and alcohol. Generally, it was a bar chat like any other except this one was in Mandarin.

Shortly after this exchange, I went to the bathroom and glanced in the mirror at my long(ish) hair that has grown significantly this year. And in the squatter, I also noticed that I was wearing a pair of hot pink “Tomboy Girl” underwear and couldn’t help but laugh at the apparent contradictions in my gender get-up that evening.

But really, in my world, a combination of “T” and “P” just makes “TP” — toilet paper. And the notion of cleaving my gender identity into one half or the other seems such a waste to me – like flushing away one part of yourself to express the other. Of course, this isn’t my culture and I’ll keep my opinions about gender to my Canadian self… and my pacquet of TP safely in my pocket!

***
Please note: the absence of “people” shots in this post is a result of the nature of the bar. They even got antsy when they saw my camera in the first place. I had to delicately and obviously take a picture of that sign and then “studious” put my camera back in its case. I guess being “out” in China (and documented) is not yet high on the agenda. Then again, this is still the case in many places in North America.