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Thank you, Woot. Thank you.

Can you feel the choco-love?

The opposite is true with Sahagun in downtown Portland. An establishment can’t have that big of a reputation and be that small, in that location and not have something special to offer. Now I haven’t liked chocolate since a minor bout with cavities ruined it for me when I was 12, but I’ve never stopped appreciating it being done well. While the Sahagun specialty is chocolate, I was curious if my pro-coffee-anti-supersweet M.O. would dampen my experience. Much to my surprise and delight, both my desire for a non-sweet drink (cocoa latte) and my fiancee’s need for some endorphin-engaging hot chocolate were both satisfied. Having tried their cocoa latte and a sip of their hot chocolate, the mocha can’t possibly be anything less than phenomenal.

The cocoa-latte: it ain't sweet, but I love it anyway.

If you like chocolate then you will want to live in Sahagun Chocolates. Unfortunately there just isn’t enough room. There’s just enough room for owner  and primary chocolateer Elizabeth Montes to perform her chocolate alchemy, but not much more.  Accommodations be damned, good chocolate is good chocolate. In the couple minutes we spent fumbling together our orders, a line of about six slowly built itself and extended out the door. Considering the size of the place, that’s not saying much, but it’s just another indication that Montes serves up something special (check out her story here).

You would think that a coffee shop loiterer like myself would be turned of by an establishment with only four seats. Of course, I am a fan of window seats, so, in theory, I’ve found an establishment with only window seats. You can’t beat that.

“I’ll just have a cappuccino.”
“We only serve tea.”

Chai tea and crumpets. FYI: Those are not actually crumpets.

I felt like the guy who walks into the neighborhood mom n’ pop coffee shop and asks for a frappuccino or a local eat-at-joe’s diner and asked for a “Big Mac.” Fact of the matter is I hadn’t mistook The Tea Zone for a coffee shop as much I had actually mistook the sound of a blender for the sound of an espresso machine. I was corrected simply, and without offense. None was necessary, since their menu speaks for itself: the Tea Zone does as much with tea than all but the most resourceful coffee shops do with coffee…and the food is pretty good too.

Now, I have no issues with Starbucks, but when you’re serving coffee to a healthy chunk of the developed world, you’ve got to make certain compromises with flavor. Not being a seasoned tea consumer, I opted for a chai—the tea everyone can agree on—and I got a chai. Comparing the Tea Zone chai to a Starbucks chai is like comparing orange juice to orange kool-aid. So this is what chai tea tastes like when it’s not beating you over the head with flavor. Perhaps it’s a fine print thing. Does Starbucks ever really say they’re serving you chai tea, or are you getting chai drink?

I guess you all probably wanted to see the swank in the back. Sorry, I like being near windows.

But I digress. If you come for the tea, stay for the vibe. All of my visits to the Tea Zone thus far have been business-related (please tip the musicians, by the way), but if I found myself in downtown Portland and in the mood to sip tea lattes while debating the aesthetics of neo-proto-post modernism with my art history grad-student associates more often I’d probably drop in regularly. The front end has limited seating, but if you’re there for the vibe you’ll want to head to Camellia Lounge in the rear anyways. They’ve got a full bar, some fantastic artwork, and much more seating in the lounge, and they host an assortment of live music six nights a week with a sweet jazz jam on Tuesday nights.

In short, if you really like tea or if you want to feel pretentious but don’t have a Mac Book Pro, treat yourself to a visit. I love the place, but how can you not feel high falutin’ when you’re served a glass of tea, a mini tea kettle, and a mini hourglass to tell you when your tea is ready? There’s also the impeccably dressed gaggle of twenty-somethings behind you sipping fresh mojitos which made me self-conscious about busting out my recently purchased Marvel Secret War graphic novel.

Sigh. I should have brought my Machiavelli biography and moleskine notebook.

Ah, the ER. Complete with panic button.

I’ve been in and out of commission pretty regularly for the past three weeks, and still am to some extent. During this extended recovery period, I’ve been told by my doctors (separately) “drink lots of caffeine” “avoid caffeine” and “the amount of caffeine you drink shouldn’t matter.” Thanks, that’s very helpful. It’s strange. I’ve discovered that when you have a stabbing headache for eight days straight, suddenly not having said headache can be a frightening and disorienting experience. Granted, I still wasn’t thrilled when it came back.

Anyways, in times of suffering, you remember the good times. So let me share one with you that I had last month.

Reuben sandwich with coleslaw, just like Call of the Canyon used to make...better.

Under the gaudy neon of the Safari Casino, Krakow Cafe and Pub chills right off of Interstate Avenue. Effortlessly eclectic, Krakow is both “not merely a coffee shop” and “entirely a coffee shop.” It also wears the New-York-style-café-and-bistro hat, complete with European cuisine including kielbasa, pierogis, spinach caprese, italianos, and an assortment of desserts as well. Along with the international food selection, Krakow serves up an international beer selection for the alcohol-inclined. Incorporating the best of the Polish deli experience, it actually evoked memories of the New York deli (not delicatessen, mind you) but managed to satisfy my ever present longing for a Northwest coffee shop (but not a café, mind you).

Where in the world have Krakow customers been? I put my pin in Mandalay, Myanmar.

For all the praise, you’d think we’d be talking about some kind of sleek low-grade Panera. Truth is, while Krakow has a laundry list of good points, it passes with flying colors while not necessarily excelling at anything in particular. The food was appetizing, but not fantastic. Prices were reasonable, but not cheap. The coffee was good, but not gourmet. The staff was friendly, but not chipper. The atmosphere was cozy, but not chic. The layout was roomy, but not expansive. The décor is quirky, but not off-beat. They give you a vibe, but not an experience.

Yes, you're reading that right: a Katarina Witt look-alike contest flyer. Krakow, where have you been all my life?

The buzz around the interwebs seems to indicate the Krakow isn’t more than a few years old, which surprises me since the place seems so well-adjusted. It’s like that guy in high school who got elected Homecoming King purely by virtue of being “a really nice guy.”  Offering live music and comedy nights, a big-screen tv to watch the Blazers game, and a discount for customers with laptop computers represent the kind of accommodations that make Krakow such a swell place. The Katarina Witt look-alike contest, on the other hand, well that’s just awesome.

(UrbanSpoon rocks!)

In a world of anthropomorphic food, a Ben-Stein-esque egg takes roll of a class of bored, monotone student-eggs, all of whom are perplexingly named “Egg.” Suddenly and without warning, club dance music begins playing, a disco ball lowers, and a can of spam bursts into the room, supposedly to liven up the classroom. Two adolescent eggs collide with one-another in celebration(?), cracking and supposedly inflicting mortal wounds, which may or may not correlate to the image of a plate of scrambled eggs and cooked spam, which morbidly follows. Given the imagery, I can only surmise that the Spam company is pushing the idea to children that the addition of spam makes being cooked alive an attractive alternative to grade school.

Clutching my soon-to-be-signed "A Whole New Mind," and paper for taking notes. Uber-geekage.

For centuries, reading something in printed text meant it was coming from a greater, more influential world than you inhabited. Anytime you were required to type something, it carried a certain weight. Well, in spite of the word processor, the digital revolution, and the advent of Twitter, I still have a certain degree of respect for the printed page, which is what brought me to Powell’s Books in Portland, to attend author Daniel Pink’s Portland stop on his book tour.

Entering a room of 100 or more Dan Pink fans clutching his latest book Drive and reciting Johnny Bunko’s career guide rules like mantra has a way of shattering any illusion of the personal, one-on-one connection you might think you have with the author. If I was a tick less tactful and two ticks more insane, I might have stood up and shouted “No one understands you like I do Dan! No one!” I restrained myself, since if I were to be forcibly removed from the event, how would I get my book signed?

Anyways, in spite of being visibly fatigued from being on the road, Pink brought fresh, thought-provoking insights into the deceptively tricky subject of human motivation. Like any good writer (or speaker), Pink speaks and writes with the same accessible wit, keeping his audience guessing, at times, at what angle his next point was coming from, even when devoted readers already knew the punch line. He kept the attendees involved, sometimes through participatory demonstration and other times by Socratic method, which humorously failed more often than not.

"Proof of human interaction," as Dan put it.

Having never attended a book tour session before, I discovered it has a way of adding an additional living, breathing dimension to the already fulfilling experience of reading a book cover-to-cover. There’s also a unique energy present when you put get together a group of people who share the same passion—or just interest—in the same subject. It’s a rewarding experience, particularly when you have the opportunity to ask the author of a book on human motivation “what motivates you?”

So yes, top 10 Dan Pink out-of-context quotes from the event:

10. “Ok, I’m deciding to abandon the Socratic method…”
9. “Let me say one word about open source: it’s weird.”
8. “Cut. Fade out.”
7. “Businesses treat people like horses that are slower, better smelling, and a little smaller.”
6. “Vermont: the Oregon of the East.”
5. “Buying Cheetos should not be a moral position.”
4. “Grits!”
3. “I’m pretty sure that’s how we are out-of-the-box. When the product ships, that’s the default setting.”
2. “With 100% turnover, people are like light bulbs. Ooh, one burned out. Lets take a new one and screw it!”
1. “Julio, are you a professional musician?…Yes?…Okay, someone else.”

Café Aroma in Yangon, Myanmar

Almost a year ago, my life took a five-week detour to Southeast Asia. The blog basically took a hiatus for five weeks and restarted with my only mention of the trip being a post about a dream I later had about Fiji. I had posted plenty on the band’s travel blog, and I returned with little else to say about the experience. As indicated many times, I do not romanticize travel and I look forward to the day when I’m too much of a curmudgeon to step on a plane. While I’m neither a tourist nor an adventurer, I did have a wonderful trip and brought back two truly personally fulfilling moments. The first I chronicled here, and the second happened while perusing the shops near my hotel in Yangon, Myanmar.

Untitled impressionist painting. Author unknown.

After hitting up the bookstores and a few clothing shops, I came across a small shop selling original art works. I greeted whom I thought to be owner, a young woman, and browsed for a few minutes. As I thumbed through some miniature pieces, the young woman approached, pointed at the collection and quietly said “impressionist.” When I asked if they were her works, she said no and said she studied with a local artist, and that the paintings were his work. She told me she had no paintings for sale, but her preferred style was realism. We chatted for a few moments about art styles and I drew upon my limited knowledge of art history to make conversation. She seemed happy to share what she knew, and I later wondered how often she had the opportunity to discuss art with someone besides her teacher. I browsed for a bit longer before eventually coming across one striking piece whose color scheme made it stand out from the others. I bought the piece for the marked price—five dollars—and would later regret both not buying more and not paying more.

I met a lot of people on my trip, and I regret that I only really connected with a handful. I set foot in cities I never would have ever thought to visit, yet it didn’t change that it was always my foot. That fact did not necessarily take away from the trip as much as it affirmed that I was looking for the same things abroad that I looked for on a daily basis—meaningful connections, coffee shops, and spacious bathrooms.

“If you went there the way you feel now it would be exactly the same.”
-Jake Barnes

I really wanted to find a coffee shop in this airport, since I don’t think I have Phoenix on my “Life in Caffeine” list. Unfortunately I was only able to find a Starbucks. Alas, the great Arizona coffee investigation twas not meant to be.

The quality of life on an airplane lies somewhere between freshman all-male college dorm and refrigerator box, but no one seems to notice. We drink our watered-down juice, sit in our ultra-upright seats, breathe recycled B.O. and flatulence, and sit physically closer to strangers than we are emotionally close to our immediate family. No one complains, though. We shuffle around each other in the isles, sneeze on old people, and drop suitcases on six-year-olds and no one says a thing. At the dawn of the age of the airliner, it’s as if they were playing a sick game of “would you rather…”

Travel by automobile and ship for the rest of your life.
or
Travel ten times faster, but lower the quality of your life tenfold while doing so.

No...he didn't. Yes. I did.

Of course, someone has to make money off of this travesty, and, as we all know, it’s not the airline industry. Once you’ve lowered your living standards to plane flight level, suddenly you desperately need to feel privileged. Eating at a high-priced Burger King after getting off of a plane flight just adds insult to injury (or injury to insult), so I opt for the comparatively ritzy bar and grill. If I’m going to get ripped off, I at least want to enjoy the food. It’s also fun to listen to people spending $12 for chicken strips and $7.50 for a beer gripe about the superficial excess of Southern California.

Well, the turkey club sandwich was horrid, and now here comes the bill…

“He’d just been hosed pretty hardcore.”

And I thought I was in America.

In spite of it all, I do still actually have a job, which is nice. Since I’m proud of my job-finding success, I’ll share a couple interviewing tips that have always worked for me. So all you college grads, soon-to-be college grads, and parolees, heed my job interview wisdom!

Keep your work up-to-date! If it’s been a few years since you graduated, and you’ve still got that thesis or dissertation gathering dust in your closet, think about revising it. Possibly a re-release special edition version with commentary and bloopers. For an extra-professional touch, consider a limited edition holographic cover.

Know your employer. When I was in college, business and econ majors threw the best parties. If you’re interviewing for a business-type job, try to drop a few references to indicate you get out some. A partially faded “over 21” stamp on your hand is a good touch. Try to wear something that has a hint of cigarette smoke, just to show that you’re cool.

Companies like to hire creative people. I often submit my resume in code, to show my potential employers that I’m not only an outside-the-box thinker, but to also demonstrate my creativity. I also used google translator to convert my name into Swedish.

Pick good references. Try to pick those who know you the best and can represent you well. I often write one for myself, because projecting a good self-image is important. Since I haven’t technically ever been employed before now, I asked the guy from Quizno’s to write me one. I don’t work there, but I go there a lot and they know me pretty well.

Include a large photo of yourself. This is particularly effective if you are attractive.

Include information about your service work. Non-profit organizations look great on resumes. I include my band, since we play a lot of shows but don’t really generate much income. I’ve also kept a careful record of everyone I’ve lent money to, and I also ask for paper instead of plastic whenever possible.

Appear valuable. Try to mention how little spare time you have since you’re always busy. If they think others are interested in you, they’ll be interested in you. Also, show up a little late and ask if you can leave early because you’ve got a “previous engagement.” It’s a plus if they think you’re popular. Wear expensive things.

Be memorable. You want to stick out from the other candidates. If you have a tattoo, display it. Consider dyeing your hair something striking. Learn some card tricks.

Be yourself. Trust me on this one. If you don’t, there may be complications later when your name, birthdate, and gender don’t match your social security records.

This advice costs you $14.99. Leave it in my paypal account. The one that isn’t suspended.

“Being a gangster isn’t as much a job as it is a poor lifestyle choice, and being a bounty hunter isn’t as much a job as it is avoiding a real one.”

I recall my first year of grad school being crazy enough without the complications of electronic social networking. As if I didn’t have enough reasons to feel old in my early twenties, on my first day I had a student abbreviate a discussion with me into another language (“Hey. Can we convo? LOL. Sorry, I like to abbrev.”), and soon after I felt the outward pressure of dealing with virtual friends—hereafter referred to as “friendeds.” After much prodding from my peers, I finally opted to give Facebook a shot, but only if I could assure that I could have all the privacy I wanted, and more. I resolved to only “friend” people that I had actual face-to-face interactions with, but my interactions on Facebook were limited until I discovered my personal Holy Grail: ultra-paranoid privacy settings. Thanks to the setting which removed my searchability on Facebook, I was free to happily enjoy all Facebook had to offer from the confines of my virtual cloaking device.

As the years have gone by, however, the ever-widening user base has had some undesirable results. While Facebook features (Facebook chat, applications, video, etc.) have consistently expanded, I’ve always had my private little wall that prevented “that one creepy guy from the coffee shop who I really never want to talk to” or “that obnoxious girl from my sophomore physics class,” or “my high school graduating class” from attempting to “friend” me. Sure, you can always ignore the friend requests, but can’t they just not know I’m there? Regardless, I’m proud to say that I’m still app-fee and I have resisted the urge to upload video or engage in real-time chat. I also was completely invisible to all but those I actually wanted to communicate with. What’s nice, is that I have had that choice.

You can run, but you can't hide. At least not anymore.

As of December 10th, I can still opt out of search results, but I have no means to opt out of being “friended” by  “friends of friends” if they happen to see my picture or name in a group or wall post. “But they’re your friends’ friends,” Facebook says. “Why wouldn’t you want them to be your friend?” Well, if you’ve got one Facebook acquaintance that’s “friended” all of Northwest Ohio—and we all have got at least one who has—then that opens you up to all of Northwest Ohio as a “friend of a friend.” My real friends’ friends are not mine, so why on Earth would the Grand High Facebook council assume that I want to have the friendeds of my friendeds be able to see me? Facebook friendeds of friendeds are exponentially further away from being actual friends. Sure, there might be some that are, but does that make it worth opening me up to all of the friends of a guy a met once at a conference in New York?

The painful truth is that social networks like Facebook and MySpace have the power to dictate social privacy trends. What makes Facebook different from myspace is its respect of privacy, which has steadily eroded with every new app. Every “feature” which enables users to share more establishes a new trend which eventually becomes a standard. Not only do these new features presuppose that people want to share as much as possible, they actually encourage people to make public things that they would have never considered to display in the past. As much as I hypocritically condemn the self-important web 2.0, whether or not you want to share pictures of yourself doing a keg-stand in a unitard isn’t my business. However, you make it my business by giving all of them access to me.

I notice that every time I type “friend,” it means less and less until the word is almost meaningless. I wonder if having 1,283 “friends” on Facebook has the same effect on actual friendship?

“This information is name, profile picture, gender, current city, networks, friend list, and Pages. The overwhelming majority of people who use Facebook already make most or all of this information available to everyone. We’ve found that most people who do limit access just want to avoid being found in searches or prevent contact from strangers.”
-Facebook Blog