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.

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.

Red Bud Isle: Austin, Texas

by Elizabeth Seward on

Within my first week of owning my dog in Austin, several people had recommended that I take her to Red Bud Isle. It sounded far away, being an isle and all. It wasn’t until a few months later that I finally researched the place and began to understand what it is in full: a half-mile long island in the middle of the Colorado River (Lady Bird Lake) intended for and used primarily by dogs and their owners. The parking lot sits adjacent to a field, which is surrounded by thick woods on every side, split only slightly by the dirt path that encircles the island. Much smaller paths dart off through the trees and toward the surrounding water, providing a dozen or so beaches and swimming holes that are dog friendly. These pools are, no doubt, my dog’s favorite part of Red Bud. But my favorite part is the scenery.

%Gallery-161016%Densely wooded areas are something I’ve been missing since moving to Texas. Impressively steep and lush hills are another thing I’ve been missing since moving to Texas. Red Bud offers me both of these. Dramatic cliffs outline the shores across the water. If you look hard enough, you’ll see hidden stairs leading to the water from the peaks of the hills. If you look even harder than that, you’ll see elaborate mansions dotting the hazy hilltop horizons. Meanwhile, green and waxy tropical leaves brush your shoulders as you wade into the water, in which you’re apparently not supposed to wade (but since many other people are swimming, it seems alright). The image is that of blue-green water lapping in softly beneath umbrella-spread trees that shade you from the oppressive sun. Some of the waters hug dirt beaches; some of the waters splash on cement stairs. At the tip of the island, on the opposite side of the parking lot, the waters crawl between stiff, exposed and braided roots of trees.

Dogs are allowed to be off-leash at Red Bud. As you trek the island’s perimeter and interior, you’ll find yourself approached by dogs of all colors and sizes. In my experience, these dogs tend to be well behaved. Perhaps this is indicative of the kinds of owners that take the time to visit Red Bud in the first place. Ebullient and prancing, these dogs are having their best day ever when at Red Bud. The proof is in their tongue-dropping, wide-mouth smiles. And there’s something infectious about dog happiness if you ask me. Dogs are these loving creatures created, more or less, by us. We bred them for sport and help, but also for love, and here they are now, needing us for food, water, shelter and play. When their basic needs are met, especially that last one, they are a testament to the fact that we too don’t need much to live. We don’t need much to be happy, either.

I Found My Silver Lining At Grayton Beach State Park

by Elizabeth Seward on

My husband and I were wandering down the East Coast with our two dogs. We had just made an unplanned visit to West Virginia to be with my family during a medical emergency and, as a silver lining to the sudden and stressful trip, we figured we’d meander down the Atlantic and across the Gulf on our way back to Texas rather than traverse the highways we already knew so well; the ones that run through Kentucky, Tennessee and Arkansas. We didn’t have much of a plan, but we had a bed in our van and a small list of dog-friendly beaches we’d be passing through.

%Gallery-160758%But by the time we reached Jacksonville, we were over it. One dog had already climbed up onto, and proceeded to puke off of, the lofted bed and onto everything we had with us in the van, causing us to pull over in a random rural driveway in Maryland. We cleaned out the car as best we could with bottled water. We drove to D.C. in search of a 24-hour laundromat and we ordered Chinese takeout as we waited for the laundry to finish. The smallest bill I had was a 20, and with no attendant in sight to give me smaller bills, I walked away with $20 in quarters. In Virginia, I woke up to the smell of reeking Chinese food in the parking lot of my gym with a tow truck parked beside me that didn’t pull away until I entered the gym. Once I was in the gym, a cop came and talked to my husband after a call had been placed reporting that I had left my dogs in the vehicle unattended. I hadn’t. We arrived to a park we’d been hoping to camp at in Wilmington only to find out there wasn’t any vacancy. We stopped at the Highway 21 drive-in movie theater in Beaufort, South Carolina, and woke up to a flashlight in our faces at 2 a.m. and a voice asking us to leave. Everyone else had cleared the field and in our exhaustion, we didn’t even see the movie we’d come to see. The iPhone had gotten us lost more than once and if that wasn’t bad enough, we got into an accident in Savannah. The car endured a few thousand dollars of damage, but it was still drivable. No one was injured and everyone involved was polite, especially the officers, so we went on our way to Jacksonville. And we were beat. We made our way over to the park we’d been looking forward to, but we were 10 minutes late and they wouldn’t let us stay. The men working directed us to another park and when we finally arrived there, we found out it was a community playground, not a place to camp.

To hell with the romantic detour, we decided that night. We agreed to leave town early and just drive straight to Austin. Still, I noticed Grayton Beach State Park on the map as we drove through the panhandle. We got there in time for sunset and although we only spent 20 hours there, that park was our silver lining. The dogs weren’t allowed on the beach, so we had to spend our beach time separate. I went first, inhaling more deeply than usual during yoga postures. With my feet rooted in the wet sand and the sun setting to my right, I felt as though, for the first time in two weeks, I could breathe. With each crashing wave that was lapped back up by the ocean, my muscles loosened. My head fell to the ground before me and, just like that, I let it all go.

We got delicious takeout that night from a little Italian place near the beach called Borago. We drank big pours of wine and whiskey at the bar while we waited for the food. We took the boxes back to our campsite and with the headlights turned on and shining toward us, we dined at 10:30 p.m. at the picnic table.

We continued west in the morning. We stopped at the KOA Baton Rouge on our last night of the trip. A woman in an especially sour mood greeted us. She scoffed at us for having a bed in our car and seemed intent on not letting us stay at all until a colleague of hers shooed her away and took over. He told me about his plans to drive straight down to Panama soon. He used to live there and is eager to return. Were it not for the reprieve we found in Grayton Beach State Park, the kind of “hospitality” the KOA woman showed us would have, I am guessing, broken my last nerve. But that 20-hour vacation is just what we needed. It was enough to redeem the two weeks that preceded it. It was enough to keep me focused on the drive to Panama this man would soon be making.

Meet The Man Who Spent 11 Years Walking Around The World And The Woman Who Waited For Him To Return

by Dave Seminara on

On his 45th birthday, Quebec native Jean Béliveau went out for a walk. He crossed over Montreal’s Jacque Cartier Bridge in Montreal, where he originally dreamed up the idea of escaping his life as a neon sign salesman nine months before, and kept going for 75,554 kilometers through 64 countries. He burned through 54 pairs of shoes but somehow managed to maintain his relationship with his wife, Luce, who stayed at home while Jean spent 11 years walking around the world. But when he returned to Canada, some criticized the walk as a self-indulgent escape from a midlife crisis since it wasn’t done for a specific charity.

Seven months after returning home from what is believed to be the world’s longest uninterrupted circumnavigation on foot, Béliveau is being courted by publishers who want the rights to his story. We caught up with Jean to find out more about his motivation for taking an 11-year walk, how he pulled it off without losing his wife and what he’s up to now.

Why take a walk around the world?

Jean: I owned a small neon sign factory but when Quebec had a terrible ice storm in the winter of 1998, we lost power for weeks. We had to close the factory and then my wife had to move to Montreal for her job. I had a midlife crisis in the meantime. I began to sell neon signs but I wasn’t making much money. I said, ‘My God, what happened with my life? I’m throwing my life away.’

I felt like I was working just for money and giving my soul away, and for what? I ran over Jacques Cartier Bridge in Montreal one day and thought, ‘I wonder how many days it would take to get to New York. And how many weeks or months or years to get to Mexico, South America, the rest of the world.’

What did your wife say when you told her you’d be buzzing off for a decade or so just three weeks before your departure?

Jean: She said, ‘Will you be back on the way?’ and I said ‘No, but you enjoy travel, you can come if you want.’ But she couldn’t because she’s a social worker and was working towards her retirement. Finally she said, ‘Is it finished between us?’ I took a big risk, she could have said, ‘Go on your way, mate.’ And she took a risk too. She said, ‘I will support you, we’ll try it.’ She’s the one – a great lady.

Luce: I asked why he didn’t tell me about it sooner and he said ‘If you have a very special dream, you better not talk about it to the people who love you, because they might try to convince you to abandon it.’

%Gallery-156047%

Had you traveled much before?

Jean: I never really traveled. I’d only been to Florida and Las Vegas.

Luce, you agreed to stick with him and help support him financially. Did your girlfriends and relatives think you were crazy?

Luce: Everybody said, ‘He’s leaving you and you’ll have to do everything by yourself.’ All my friends and relatives, especially the girls, said they wouldn’t put up with this and they didn’t know how I could stand it. They thought he was selfish.

How did you pay for this trip?

Jean: I took $4,000 Canadian, which was about $3,000 U.S. at that time. It wasn’t enough, I knew that, but for me I had to escape. I had to go. I needed to make a big pilgrimage. To see who I was and where I was in life. I preferred to be eaten by the lions in African than by the society. I probably spent about $50,000 or so for the whole trip. Some people spend the same amount for a two-week trip.

Luce: I had to make some financial sacrifices to help support him along the way, but I was so taken with his project it didn’t mean anything to me to go without some things.

How do you pack for a trip like this?

Jean: I had everything I needed in a three-wheeled stroller – a sleeping bag, tent, a pad, only a couple changes of clothing, a pillow, a First aid kid, some food and water.

How much ground does one need to cover to walk around the world in 11 years?

Jean: I averaged about 20 miles per day over 11 years, but I didn’t walk every day. It took about six months to cross the U.S., about 8 months for Mexico and Central America. Then I had to skip Colombia because back in 2002 it was considered very dangerous. I spent almost two years walking through South America and then I ran out of money. I didn’t want to call Luce and ask for her to pay for my flight to Africa. Eventually, a Brazilian guy offered to pay for my ticket to South Africa and the trip continued.

(Click here to see a video of his route)

Where did you sleep during this walk?

Jean: People invited me into their homes, they fed me, they phoned people 30-40 miles ahead to help me. Some people gave me money, brought me to the supermarket and filled my buggy with food. I stayed with about 1,600 families in 64 countries, but in general I’d say I spent roughly one-third with families, one-third camping and the rest being invited to sleep in churches, temples, mosques, schools and even prisons. I stayed with criminals, killers, extremists – all kinds of people.

How did you maintain the desire to keep walking? Didn’t you want to go home at some point?

Jean: You’re in a state of permanent culture shock. You get to the point where you become saturated; you can’t even see the beauty. In 2004, I was in the middle of Africa somewhere and decided that I wanted to go home. I felt like I was a prisoner of my dream. I had to finish the walk. I felt like if I went back home I would fail because the spirit of the walk is just one shot, no going back. I sent Luce an email telling her I was too tired and I couldn’t go further.

Luce: I told him I loved him but that everyone wanted him to continue, because if he cut his walk, it’s like he didn’t accomplish anything.

How did you maintain your marriage with him gone for 11 years? Didn’t you feel jealous that he was out seeing the world while you were helping pay for his adventures?

Luce: I wasn’t jealous, not at all. I started his website and answered all of his emails. I was writing newsletters for him. I couldn’t have gone with him, I can’t eat everything like he does and I would get fed up with staying in tents and other strange places. I enjoy my comfort too much. I visited him for a few weeks each year and we were like normal people on vacation. These were his little breaks from the walk.

How were you perceived on your walk? Did people think you were a beggar in some places?

Jean: In Europe and Japan a lot more people treated me like I was a homeless person or a beggar. You feel the rejection; you can tell it in people’s eyes. I was someone apart from the society. I was in Latin America and Africa for about four years, where I was welcome. In Europe, people would back away from you. You say hello to people and they think you’re crazy.

Were there moments of danger for you on the trip?

Jean: Not many. I was woken up by a puma in the night in Chile while I was in a sleeping bag, but thankfully it went away. I was almost robbed in South Africa. But there were so many more occasions where people were good to me. I needed prostate surgery in Oran, Algeria, but had no money. They said, ‘Don’t worry, we want to support you.’ I was in the hospital for six days and they paid for everything. Even in Iran, they were amazing people. There’s a difference between the regime there and the people. The people there are beautiful.

How did your feet hold up?

Jean: They were fine until I got to Iran. I walked in whatever shoes people gave me along the way, and someone gave me sandals in Iran. Those were terrible to walk in. I went through 54 pairs of shoes. Each year, Luce would take some pairs home with her, so we still have some of them.

What was the most physically demanding part of the trip?

Jean: I spent three months crossing the desert in North Australia. It was 45 degrees (Celsius). I was drinking 10-12 liters of water per day but it was brutal. It took eleven months to cross the whole country. But then I got lucky. I went to New Zealand next and Air New Zealand offered to fly me back to Vancouver and then I crossed Canada to get home to Montreal.

How did you avoid going crazy?

Jean: I did go crazy. You go deep in your own mind, you just have your imagination, you go far away in the universe, because you can’t calibrate yourself with other people. Then when I’d see people, I’d be careful to talk to them to make sure I wasn’t too far-gone, too crazy.

What was the homecoming like?

Luce: I met him on the last day and walked with him for about 12 kilometers and got tired so I had to take the metro home to rest. Later, I went to join him again when he was closer to home and there was a ceremony for him. And then the two of us walked the last 1.5 kilometers to our home, just the two of us. He was fine – he was full of adrenaline – not tired at all.

How did he transition back to home life?

Luce: The transition was hard for both of us. He kept leaving the doors of our condo unlocked and he had no idea where anything belonged. He got depressed after being home a few weeks.

Do you plan to ask Guinness to verify your walk as the longest on record?

Jean: No, but if someone else wants to submit it they can. I didn’t do it to set a world record. There are totally unknown people who might have walked farther than me. There is a guru in India, he walks naked and with bare feet. He’s probably walked 200,000 kilometers in his life, but just in India. In my walk, we can say it is the longest walk around the world without returning home in between.

You received some criticism in Canada after returning home. Some said your walk was self-indulgent.

Luce: We did read the negative comments. Those people would like to try something like this but don’t have the guts to do it. Jean was in a situation where he could do it – our children were grown. We were not wealthy at all. All the free money I had was needed just to keep him on the road. The negative comments came only in Canada. Canadians are more critical; we don’t appreciate people who do things. Look at Celine Dion; she wasn’t appreciated here at all when she started.

What’s next for you?

Jean: I’m writing a book. So far, we have offers from 16 publishers. Hopefully, it’ll be out next year. I won’t go back to selling neon signs. My past is another life. I’m on a new path now until I die. (Update: The book will be published by the Flammarion Group in February 2013.)

You’ve said that you did this walk for peace and for children, but you didn’t raise money for any charitable cause. What do you think you accomplished?

Jean: You want to do something before you die. I figured I had maybe 30 more years on this planet and I wanted to do it. I think we helped raise awareness for peace but I left with a humble spirit. My goal is to learn not to teach. The walk was about everyone I met – people’s humanity, their desire to explore the world. So many people supported me so it wasn’t just my walk; it was theirs too.

I bet people will read the story you are doing and it will make an impact on their lives. Some people will decide to change their lives when they read this.

[All photos provided by Jean Beliveau le Marcheur]