Hawaii!

Quick thoughts from last weekend:


Nice upset, Aggies.  Welcome to the SEC!  Your arrival is working out better than Mizzou's . . .


Iowa's season is officially in the dumpster.  Time to rethink the coaching staff, at least the coordinators.


USC vs UCLA is for more than just bragging rights; its the Pac-12 South Division Championship.  I'll be there to see if USC can salvage any glory from its fallen "dream season" that held so much promise when Matt Barkley spoke of "unfinished business" at a press conference in December last year.


But first I have some "unfinished business" on a beach in the Pacific.

The flight departs in 2 hours and 22 minutes

See you in a week!

Fight On,

Hans

Luxury Travel on a Budget

Reporting from San Francisco and Los Angeles, CA

American Eagle 1A is heaven.

Sitting in seat 1A on an American Eagle flight is one of the most exquisite yet simple traveling pleasures I know. To sit in this magical place requires not the extravagant trappings of an burgeoning expense account or a massive pile of frequent flyer miles. This seat, situated forward of all other rows on the EMB 140, sits apart from the rest, adjacent to the crew galley. The bulkhead provides ample legroom and complete solace. From this seat, the plane is my own; private travel for no more than the cost of a coach ticket. I began this particular short weekend trip to California with a luxurious flight to Dallas, nestled into 1A with cured meats, brie, a passable Argentinian Sauvignon Blanc, and Johnny Depp's Dark Shadows.

Once in Dallas, I had just enough time to duck into the Admirals Club for a couple shots of complimentary whiskey before transferring to my flight to San Francisco. Unfortunately, there is no magical 1A on this large, roomy 757. With space enough for a separate first class that obliterates my equalitarian seat 1A, I am herded into the middle of the plane into a exit row seat. Somewhere back in Iowa City, a well-meaning travel agent had taken pity on my 6'2" frame and elected a seat with extra leg room. Unfortunately, that puts me squarely over the wing.

I hate that.

You see, when I travel, I really like looking out the window. I am that guy that sits up and pays attention when the pilot announces that we are flying over the Grand Canyon. Why go through the expense and hassle of air travel if you you are not going the enjoy the amazing sights of this vast country passing below you? Now it just so happens that the air routes taken into San Francisco pass over the Sierra Nevada. Often, the plane will fly right over the Long Valley caldera area of the Eastern Sierra and I get to ogle the places that have been so special for me since childhood: Mammoth Mountain, Mono Lake, and Yosemite national park. Although my back was thankful I could stretch out in this exit row, I could only glimpse Mammoth for a few seconds this time before it was obscured by the engine and wing occupying most of my view. I am happy to report, however, that the mountain is fully covered with snow and it looks like we will be able to enjoy a new ski season soon.

I came to San Francisco for the American Association of Medical Colleges meeting to network with other educators that specialize in teaching students their "clinical skills" of being a doctor: how to take a patient's history, conduct a physical examination, and gather the deductive clues to make an insightful diagnosis. Kinda like what Gregory House does on House MD but with a lot less acerbity and a few less drugs.

It was a beautiful weekend in the city, so I enjoyed a long walk to my favorite bar, Smuggler's Cove. Behind its unassuming facade (see below) lies over 350 types of rum. They are presented through a well-researched cocktail menu that follows the mixologist's history of rum from the English Navy's grog to the golden age of tiki bars following World War II. Fortified by a Parisian Blonde, I enjoyed a delicious Indian dinner at Amber, a hip, crowded restaurant near the museum complex around the Moscone Convention Center.

After my meeting ended the next day, I rushed back to SFO to catch a Southwest flight to LA, making sure to snag a window seat on the left side of the plane. The term "posh" originated as an acronym for "Port Out Starboard Home" and described the the most desirable cabin when sailing from London to South African or India during the days of the British empire. If you occupied a cabin on the port (left) side of the boat when sailing south along Africa, you viewed the coastline for the duration of the journey. By switching to a cabin on the starboard (right) side for the return trip home, you also enjoyed a view that was considerably less monotonous than the empty sea that the other less fortunate passengers endured.

The air routes between San Francisco and Los Angeles generally follow the coastline of California. To fully witness the majesty of the Golden State, it is best to sit on the port side of the plane flying south to LA and move to the starboard side for the return leg north. Again, port out, starboard home. The open seating offered by Southwest, frequently viewed as chaotic and unruly by more sophisticated travelers, allows anyone in the know to enjoy a posh seat at Southwest's famously bargain prices.

When I got to LA, I caught a ride directly to the coliseum, arriving in Exposition Park 25 minutes after stepping off the plane. A few minutes later I was in my 50 yard line seat for USC vs Oregon. On social medial outlets in the days leading up to the game, the usually arrogant and myopic Trojan fans were remarkably pessimistic about their team's chances against the Ducks. Armed with those low expectations, I was actually quite pleased that USC trailed by only 3 late in the 3rd quarter. But a couple of costly turnovers and a complete inability to stop the vaunted Quack attack offense turned the pessimism into reality. USC's offense played their best game of the year and put up one heck of a fight. But I openly concede that Oregon is a better team; a much better team that deserves a shot at the national championship.*

On Sunday, after a blessed extra hour of sleep thanks to daylight savings time, I retraced my long air travels back to San Francisco and Dallas and finally to home. One week of work, three hard shifts next weekend, and I'll be getting back on a plane again. This time headed to Hawaii

8 days, 1 hour, 30 minutes to go.

Fight On,
Hans

PS: the Ducks deserve to be in the BCS championship unlike Notre Dame who just keeps pulling wins out of their lucky little green butts. Manti Te'o has the Irish defense playing out of their minds, but the offense is not very consistent. Although T'eo on and his front four will be able to get good pressure on Barkley, I anticipate that the Notre Dame dream season will come to a screeching halt on November 24th with a blowout loss to USC in the Coliseum. (See above regarding arrogant and myopic Trojan fans)

First Cold Night

Reporting from Iowa City, IA

Peace.

A satisfying meal of zucchini soup, Brussel sprouts roasted with prosciutto, and truffle-salted grilled pork.

Wes Anderson's whimsical and romantic Moonrise Kingdom enjoyed from beneath a warm furry blanket entwined with my best friend.

A Westie wrapped around my feet, snoring gently

Two fingers of Balveine Peated-Cask single malt scotch, bitter and smooth like burned leather

The hunter's moon pouring its pale blue light through a newly bare forest and landing softy onto my face.

Warm glow of recessed lighting flowing over maple paneling and a pine floor

The soft crackle of cooling embers in the fireplace, just awoken from its long summer hibernation.

When the temperature drops in the Midwest, we don't complain or feel sorry for ourselves. We change out our wardrobes, dig in the back of the closet for our gloves, and bring out the extra blankets. The end of October brings with it the baring of trees and nighty freezes. What we consider a warm afternoon is classic "Midwestern brisk", and still requires a sweater and hat. It is the time to finish cleaning the yard, get the bulbs planted in the ground, and change the oil in the tractor. We will be withdrawing into our homes, firing up the slow cooker, and making a fire in the hearth.

We faced the first very cold night of the season tonight. But rather than complaining, we celebrated- with delicious seasonal food, s'mores over a blazing fire, and watching a romantic movie while huddling under blankets.

The next day was spent raking the yard while the crock pot churned out a batch of tomato-fennel soup. We also planted over 150 bulbs in anticipation of Spring, seemingly an eternity away. We worked hard to get the chores done- there's football on!* Fortunately the best games were shown at night, after a cold, hard day of work. The way we like it. And the soup had plenty of time to cook.

Winter is coming. Bring it on.

Hawaii is coming too, only 14 days, 22 hours, and 25 minutes.

Fight on,

Hans


*PS. I can't let this column go without mentioning the results of those games. The cozy impressionistic description above belies the insufferable pain I endured Saturday. Iowa has always had trouble with Northwestern, and yesterday was no exception. I was terrified of USC playing at Arizona a week before the biggest game of the year (home against Oregon next week). Sure enough, Kiffin's inability to adjust his offensive scheme and the Trojan's incomprehensible excess in penalties ruined Marquise Lee's record performance. We Trojan alums have an expression: A Perfect Trojan Day. It occurs when USC wins while UCLA and Notre Dame lose. Yesterday was a rare opposite: the Bruins and Irish both won! At least by picking the Irish and betting against the Trojans I got 17.5 points to show for it . . . .


PPS. What you doing on Jan 7th? I'll be free.

Great American Beer Festival

Reporting from Denver, CO
(above photo credit: Andy Bern)

Something happened to Denver in the last 10 years while no one was looking.  It got cool.

I was in Denver for the last week for a conference and was "stuck" downtown for the entire week.  I gazed longingly at the surrounding mountains and nearby Boulder, unable to get the time or transportation away to these places that I love.  But, oddly enough, once I gave downtown Denver a chance I discovered that it has matured nicely since I was there last and has developed into a haven of culture.  The opera house and symphony hall complex is a soaring tribute to the arts.  The Museum of Art earns all the talk about its controversial architecture.  And the neighborhood surrounding Coors Field is riddled with quaint restaurants and bars.  One of these bars is worth noting: "The 1 Up" features dozens of classic upright arcade games (Pac-Man, Galaga, and yes, even Defender!) as well as giant Jenga games.  Very cool.

Don't get me wrong, Boulder is still the best.  By far.  But Denver is not just a gateway to the Rockies anymore.  (I still hate that their airport is an hour outside of town . . . )

I was in town for a conference, but it ended conveniently on the same day as the start of the Great American Beer Festival.  580 breweries offering over 2500 beers.  Oh yeah- I had to stay for that.  I logged into the website the moment tickets went on sale in August, but they were all sold out- the event sold out BEFORE they went on sale.  But there were ample tickets immediately available on Stub Hub for twice face value.  Hmmm.   Shenanigans!

Anyway, this was a unique right place- right time kind of moment, so I shelled out the extra bucks and got my pass for the first night.  I learned later that the first night is the most coveted; the breweries have just arrived and their product is at its most fresh.  The event started at 5:30 pm to run until 10:00 pm; I spent the day saving up my calories and doing some extra exercise.  This strategy later proved . . . unwise.

The best word to describe The Great American Beer Festival is overwhelming. There is just no possible way to sample everything.  They hand you a 1 oz tasting glass when you enter, then are turned loose on a massive convention floor space.  The entire convention hall is covered with booths, arranged regionally (Pacific, Mountain, Northwest, Midwest, etc).  Since each brewery has a booth and each booth offers samples of five or more beers, even if you kept to the tiniest region, New England, with 20 booths, you are looking at 100 oz in samples!

I sampled randomly as I walked, tasting many great beers (the best were usually IPA's) and quite a few mediocre ones.  The two most memorable beers were: a chili pepper beer from Mad River Brewery that was surprisingly complex and delicious (would have been outstanding with a burrito) and a coconut-chocolate stout from the Maui Brewing Company (almost like a liquid german chocolate cake).

Very briefly into my tastings, my lack of earlier eating became apparent.  I was absorbing the alcohol WAY too fast.  I tried to compensate with a quesadilla from the snack bar (where did that Mad River booth go?) but it was too little too late.  In the end, I only lasted two hours (embarrassing) but I did manage to sample 48 beers, a mere 2% of the available total.

The rest of the weekend was spent recovering.  And watching some great football.  Hats off to Notre Dame for their gritty, come from behind win over Stanford.  And no, Stanford did not get into in the end zone on the last play- the refs and the replay official made the right call.  Iowa's comeback over Michigan State was a surprise and knocked Sparty out of the Big 10 race.  And West Virginia discovered that not having a defense can be a painful thing when visiting Lubbock, Texas.

I would like to have more of that coconut chocolate beer.  I wonder if I can track some down when I am in Hawaii.

25 days, 21 hours, and 58 minutes!

Fight On,

Hans

PS:  The conference I attended had a silent auction that included this Jimmy Buffet signed guitar.  If only I hadnt spent so much on airfare and beer tickets . . .

Amid The Peaks And Beside A Salty Lake

Reporting from Salt Lake City, Utah

The Los Angeles Coliseum holds the honor of being the only edifice in the world that has hosted two Olympic opening ceremonies. But USC is not the only college football team to play in an Olympic stadium. They're not even the only team in their league to do so!

I am here today in Salt Lake City for the Trojan's first visit to Utah since the Utes* joined the conference last year (and first visit since 1915!) The game will be played in Rice-Eccles stadium, which hosted the opening and closing ceremonies for the Salt Lake City games of 2002. I arrived at the airport and took a short cab ride into downtown, starting my tour at Temple Square. Upon arriving in the Salt Lake valley in 1847, this plot of land was selected by Brigham Young to be the site for the Mormon temple and remains today as the world headquarters for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. The gardens are beautiful and the central crystal-like temple soars into the air (at night it is brightly lit and is even more impressive). The square held a smattering of tourists, most wearing USC jerseys like myself. I toured one of the visitor centers, featuring interesting yet slightly creepy dioramas of bible stories and Church history. The most impressive piece was this statue of Christ (Christus by Bertel Thorvaldsen) surrounded by a celestial mural on the walls and ceiling, imparting a heavenly, extra-terrestrial ambiance.

From there, I walked the several miles from downtown to campus. If you visit here, I recommend using Trax, the local light rail system that runs from central downtown (where the Temple is located) right to the football stadium (I needed the exercise). The fun part of wandering through a new town is the unexpected discoveries. I passed this violin making school, full of students laboriously carving their virgin instruments from the native wood. Another surprise was the prevalence of Nepalese restaurants. A rare sight in even the largest cities, I passed no less than three in about a mile. I wonder if there is a connection between Nepalese food and the abundance of outdoor enthusiasts in this state. That, or the Mormon church has a significant presence in Nepal.

The Utah campus is beautiful; reminds me a bit like Arizona State: set nestled against a mountain and featuring modern design buildings set widely apart to make room for quads and parks between them. I passed a newspaper dispenser and did a double take on the name of the local paper- The Deseret. Some funny play on words for a paper for the desert? No, this refers to the original proposal for a new territory made by Brigham Young's government in 1849 at the conclusion of the Mexican- American war ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/State_of_Deseret) They printed a plan for a state carved out of the newly enlarged United States that stretched from the Sierra Nevada in the west to the Rockies in the east and from the Sawtooth mountains in the north to the new border with Mexico (incidentally, the plan was printed in Iowa because no printing presses existed yet in the Salt Lake Valley!). The name for this huge land was Deseret. Although President Zachary Taylor supported the idea (to reduce the number of new free states and to avoid pissing off the South), such a large state was not acceptable to congress and the territory of Utah was established at about half the size.

After seeing the stadium, my other goal for this trip was to visit the famous Pie Pizzeria, a Utah institution. The Pie is an underground pizza joint adjacent to campus and a pre-game ritual. The line was out the door and led directly to the ordering counter: no table service, no waiting room; the counter is a few steps inside the door. I placed my order for an artichoke/ spinach / chicken calzone (definitely NOT on my diet) and found a small table in the corner amid the sea of red. The coeds were wearing shirts proclaiming they were members of "The MUSS". What the heck is the MUSS? I later learned that it is the name for the Utah Alumni organization and comes from a line in their fight song, "... No other college men [sic] dare meet us in the muss." Ok- so it's an archaic name for a fight. But in the context of football, it has taken on another meeting: the student section at Rice-Eccles stadium. The feisty, boisterous nature of the section resembles a chaotic "muss", particularly their famous "3rd down jump" (God help the engineers who designed the grandstands). In this setting MUSS is described as an acronym for "Might Utah Student Section."

The MUSS was certainly rocking tonight, even more so after Utah recovered consecutive fumbles and scored 14 points in the first three minutes. But as the game wore on USC's physical defense and speed at the receivers was too much for the Utes. It was not a perfect game for the Trojans but any means but at least they responded to a really crappy start and were able to pull away.

The peaks that nestle Salt Lake City are painted with lovely fall color- broad streaks of bright yellow from the groves of aspen. But upon landing in Denver for the second leg of this week's trip I was assaulted by an icy wind blowing down from the Rockies complete with light snow. A stark reminder to enjoy Autumn while you have it- winter is coming.

38 days, 5 hours, and 43 minutes until Hawaii.

Fight on,

Hans

*PS: The NCAA has banned the use of tribes as sports nicknames. Utah is one of the few Division 1-A (FBS) schools to receive permission from the appropriate tribe to retain the use of the name. Others that I am aware of include the Central Michigan Chippewa's and the Florida St Seminoles. Of note, the North Dakota Fighting Sioux obtained permission from one Sioux nation but not from the other and their nickname remains under sanction from the NCAA. Also, the Illinois Illini were allowed to keep their name simply because there is no such thing as the Illini tribe- it just refers to any person from Illinois.