Midnite's Global Journey of Spiritual Discovery*

Midnight,

As usual nicely done, when are you going publish a coffee table book of all of your travel collages?

I will be at the Mai Kai next week and after reading your post I want to be there now! I live for snappies of goofy Tiki dude with bewildered Mai Kai girl and will happily share some with you when I return.

Hooray, the Midnites made it to the Shangri-La of tiki! Glad you liked it (like you wouldn't?). Welcome home!

"Every day is HukiNow at the MaiKai!"

See, I told you you were stupid.

Love always,
~T
p.s. Did you get to see the ladies room?

Gee, I didn't even see the ladies room! Is there something special about it?

On 2008-06-05 19:32, Haole'akamai wrote:
Did you get to see the ladies room?

Judging by the above photo of the two of them waving from the ladies room, I'd guess they got to see the ladies room. I'll tell you what, the Thorntons made sure the ladies would have a space to powder their noses and tweak their beehives in style!

The men? We just get a dark, dank place to pee. And we like it that way...

[ Edited by: GatorRob 2008-06-06 07:21 ]

I know, I know.

On 2008-06-06 07:17, GatorRob wrote:

The men? We just get a dark, dank place to pee. And we like it that way...

[ Edited by: GatorRob 2008-06-06 07:21 ]

Dude, I LOVE the men's room at the Mai Kai! Especially the moai ashtray.

Although, it is short on non-porous surfaces, which could be the cause of the "dank" of which you speak. Mmmm...dank.

On 2008-06-06 20:23, martiki wrote:
Dude, I LOVE the men's room at the Mai Kai! Especially the moai ashtray.

Although, it is short on non-porous surfaces, which could be the cause of the "dank" of which you speak. Mmmm...dank.

I know, I was being somewhat facetious. I've always liked how the dark men's room continues the vibe of the Mai-Kai, which would otherwise be completely spoiled with a typical bright restaurant restroom. And the Molokai music is playing in there. And I always strike up a conversation with the attendant whose name I can never remember (damn rum!).

"Oh, we're going to a hirkilau..."

**Installment Four: *HIRKI LAU ***

This spectacular month of tiki travel wrapped up with an exciting series of visits to some of the most famous tiki spots here and in the Mid-West. First off, it's a happy birthday bash for the fair Michelle at Emeryville's Trader Vic's. That's fifteen birthdays together and she's still cuter than homemade shoes. I am one lucky midnite. It's been awhile since we'd actually sat in the dining room at Vic's, having in recent years preferred retiring to the bar and enjoying the best hamburger around. The decor in the dining rooms is swell (dig the Leeteg), the drinks were well made, and of course the company was unbeatable. Still, I think next time we'll be back in the bar with a couple of cheeseburgers.

Originally, the final phase of the tiki travel month was planned around a certain auction in the Illinois area. Predictably, my ridiculous travel luck this year had to manifest itself with a schedule change for that event. Fricken, fracken, friggin'...oh well, par for the course in aught-eight. Thus, the visit with my tiki-loving nephew Richard, a new home owner in Madison, was still on but the aforementioned eff-up allowed more time in Wisconsin and more money to spend on cocktails. Silver lining and all, folks.

A wee spot of back story. Richard had been expressing his interest in visiting the Mai Kai for some time. I repeatedly blew off his proposals saying, "It will be there, cool the jets, we got plenty of time." Well, ha ha, uhhh, it looked like maybe not so much, eh? I was able to see the Mai Kai but considering the circumstances it appeared perhaps Richard would not. I felt badly, so as compensation for my previous stupidity I brought out to Madison as a housewarming present my "Mai Kai" velvet framed in a very cool original Monkeyman carving. With that offering the first-ever official Hirki Lau could commence!

Hirki Lau started off with a trip to Milwaukee's Miller Park to watch some Brewers baseball. That's one more Major League park off the list. Good stadium, nice sausage race, the Bratwursts are better at ATT Park in Frisco! Back in Madison many cocktails were mixed as Richard and his lovely Kylie are burgeoning tikiphiles. Richard has amassed a respectable rum collection, we dove in head-first and without any inflatable gear. I dusted of my old semi-professional bartending skills and we downed many a fine cocktail. Make that many fine cocktails and one Painkiller, uh, omelet (long story). The final Wisconsin portion of Hirki Lau was spent in Madison at the best restaurant I've visited in a long while, The Old Fashioned. It's a restaurant centered around my favorite, non tiki, cocktail! Tyler Fitzgerald would be so proud. No club sandwiches though, that's going to cost a few points from the Czechoslovakian judge.

Hirki Lau is first and foremost a tiki event of the highest order. When one finds one's self in the Southern Wisconsin/Northern Illinois area one looks to the Chicago suburbs for some old school classic tiki experiences. First up, after some killer pie at Giordano's, was Hala Kahiki!

Hala Kahiiki will, without a doubt, go down as one of my favoirte tiki spots of all-time. I am hard pressed to think of a bar I like better. That room is a gem. As one well-known and respected tikiphile told me, "The decor will melt your brain." Figuratively that held true as the lighting, the set-up, the look...the best. This is coming from someone who could take or leave, mostly leave, Witco. That said, I could send countless hours there, having beers.

Now, I know the conventional wisdom on Hala Kahiki is the tiki drink quality does not in any way match the supremely high level of the tiki decor. My vaunted cocktail source was equally down on Hala Kahiki's offerings. Given my experience I have to say it's probably true, but Kylie's Pina Colada was pretty good and my Scorpion was passable. In a rush of tiki exuberance ("How can they mess up a Planter's Punch?", she declared.), Kylie went all-in and ordered said Planter's Punch. Unfortunately, the earnest enthusiasm of youth was met head on by the harsh reality of what actually could go wrong with a Planter's Punch. Shudder. Still, Hala Kahiki is superb, notwithstanding many of the cocktails.

Hirki Lau continued on at that classic Cantonese cuisine and tropical drink restaurant, Chef Shangri-La. Chef Shangri-La was quite the sensory experience. A bit of a hodge podge, some classic tiki history with a bit of urban adventure. I was immediately struck by its similarities to Modesto's own Minnie's. I dug the Chef, if for nothing else but to see one of the inspirations for my personal Tiki Mecca, Forbidden Island. The decor was at times a bit too colorful and the dining area substantially too bright. I dug the grotto though and the bar area has some great elements. I would certainly go back as one definitely gets from Chef Shangri-La a taste of an earlier era.

Other than a perfunctory dish of Pot Stickers we were at the Chef to enjoy some adult beverages. I mean, this is Hirki Lau, dammit! My cocktail source was much more positive about our chances at Chef's and he was again spot on. We tried five drinks and some were very nice, indeed. Particular mention must be made of the Dr. Fong and the Mai Tai. Both of these concoctions were first-rate, solid libations. Kylie continued her misguided selections with an off-target Flaming Virgin and some other too icky to recall sickly sweet beverage. The girl can take a fine snappie, though.

Hirki Lau ended up back at Richard's new casa, official home of the original Hirki Lau don't you know, and a Sunday full of cocktails. Go figure. We went through quite a bit of rum, we liked it...and it was good. Next year, at Hirki Lau 2, I am thinking of holding a cocktail slash sandwich slash travel seminar. Maybe something on pay-per-view. Now, while Hirki Lau was a small event, only three attendees for the inaugural, we made up for the diminutive size of the gathering with some good old Mid-Western stick to it-ness and heart. Plus, a lot of liquor. We have big plans for Hirki Lau, big plans, baby. From the little acorn...

A hirki, hirki, hirki, hirki, hirkilau
uncle midnite

This completes the tiki travel month of May 15th - June 16th. I hope you've enjoyed the ride as we visited many of America's finest old tiki havens. Remember, support your, our my, local tiki bar. Next up? Well, hmmm...the next tiki travel month. Say, August? Fuckin' Ay!

Midnite at the No-asis

August. Why?

These dog days. This lack of a real holiday. It possesses no true monthly purpose. Did we need this month? I never cared for it. If I had the space (which I do not) August would be placed fourth on the midnite "life philosophy" index card: "Red Cars, Blue Cocktails, and Blonde Women...are bad luck." They are, it is. Alas, 8.33% of my year is taken by this red-headed stepchild of a month and I must make do. I travel, I drink...I await September.

Traveling and drinking? There is a God. While I see many of my tiki brethren set a course for adventure down San Diego way at Tiki Oasis I must zag to that zig. It is my nature, for I am a contrarian but was not born Cesarean. It's August, let's go to Atlanta. Send your camel to bed. It's time for midnite at the no-asis.

Why?

Georgia was on my mind. I mean Deep South and not South of the Caucasus. Wrong pew, right church. I was after a Gun Club Punch, nothing more violent than that. I sought one more Trader Vic's to check off my list, a baseball game, and some history. The news lamented a Georgia half way around the world while I watched the goings on from a safe distance in the basement of the Atlanta Georgia Hilton.

First, let's talk Atlanta. Mine was only a brief stay before a visit to Florida. Still, it's the capitol of the South so let's check 'er out. Okay, while I waited for Trader Vic's to open I had to occupy my time. There's plenty to do in Atlanta, but a man's got to know his limitations. I know mine. They extend out to about an hour or so in the Atlanta Aquarium and even less time at the Coca-Cola museum or whatever they call the huge product placement extravaganza that sits next to the aforementioned aquarium. I like sea creatures, I drink Coke...but that's about it. Shoulder shrug.

I did enjoy my visit to the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial and park. My time there was an emotionally moving experience. It was sadly, also a bit, well, sad. I mean over there a ways is like this Sistine Chapel for a sugary drink, hundreds of tourists, and here for MLK? Deeper shoulder shrug. I went and paid my respects. I'm happy I did, it was one of the better parts of my travels.

Yet another aspect of my trip to mention was one more check for the Major League Baseball parks list. Turner Field, home of the Braves. Going there while the Olympics were taking place in Beijing was a neat coincidence. Good seat for the game and fine people in the stands. It was Nascar night! The Cubs won. I dug the park as it is nice, but did not do the tomahawk chop for it is lame.

Atlanta has a Trader Vic's...lucky me! Oh, what a Trader Vic's it is, too. Circa 1973 or so, and everything I like in a Vic's. It looked, at first glance, much like the London Trader Vic's I love so. In some ways, gasp, it may be even better. No, I am not just talking currency conversions either. Yes, this Vic's is a real keeper. I was told many good things about Atlanta, they held true. It's a gem.

I got there about ten minutes after it opened. Hey, I'm a fan, not some dorky fan-boy. It's not as if I waited in the lobby for the place to open. No, I walked around the block a couple times. After ordering my Navy Grog I toured the surroundings some and then took to snapping several candids of said cocktail as is my want. "Yes", I told my bartender, "I'm a bit weird." Without missing a beat he responded by asking if he should check out Tiki Central later to see my efforts. Thus, after I looked around to see who had set him up to that bit of info (no one) I began my new acquaintance with Joel the Bartender.

I spent quite a few hours at Vic's and got to talk shop, and baseball, with Joel for a goodly amount of that time. He is a real asset to this Vic's and I was pleased to have him make me many, uh too many?, cocktails. With the great physical space and decor, the many drink specials and promotions, the Thursday night live music with Tongo-hiti, this Vic's is top shelf stuff.

I only had two nights but several fine drinks were enjoyed. Joel must receive special credit from me for a superbly mixed Tortuga. That's a tough cocktail to make right, but when it is done well it's one of Vic's best. It goes without saying I would eagerly travel back to Atlanta and especially to this Trader Vic's. Dang, I wish they had a Vic's like this in Frisco. They should.

Why yes, the club sandwich search continues. You thought I forgot the sandwich, didn't you? At the Westin Atlanta comes the room service turkey BLT. Ya know, this variation of a club without the third piece of bread is becoming popular. I don't dislike it per se, but I am a purist. It gets good marks, decent, but the French judge takes off some points because, well, he's French. However, during my stay in Florida I took in the club sandwich at a small diner/bagel shop near my brother's home. Oh baby, what a good sandwich it was. Of course, I forgot to take my camera. Bacon at the Jewish deli!

Why?

Come on, till the evenin' ends,
Till the evenin' ends...

midnite

It can't be emphasized enough what a great place the Atlanta Trader Vic's is, thank you, Midnite! Especially now, with Chicago and Beverly Hills gone, it is not only the best one of the American TVs left, it is up there in the class of the 10 best vintage Tiki palaces left in the US, period, like the Mai Kai, the Hale Kahiki, and the Tonga Room.
I fondly remember my first Hukilau there, and yes, the Tortuga is a damn fine libation.

Crawling From The Wreckage

9-12 October 2008

An Indian summer had set upon the Bay Area. Gentle winds from the East clear a presumptive fog and reveal the brightest azure sky. San Francisco awoke that Thursday morning to a cheerful today and hopeful tomorrow, yet my world was dark. A black canvas displaying pain, only the pain. I walk, solo, through the streets, searching for what I can never know. Always the darkness. And the pain.

Heh heh, it's time to crawl...San Francisco Tiki Crawl. A trip not of long layovers and distant shores. No, more like bad hangovers and lengthy straws. I stayed in a hotel, I travelled (a bit), and I had a room service club sandwich. That's a trip, it counts.

October brings some of the most special moments. Some I wait for all year. It's the time of the baseball playoffs, Fleet Week, and some years the San Francisco Tiki Crawl. I like October. It's the anti-August. Amen, brother. So, notwithstanding a severe crash in the equities market, it's time to party like it's 1999.

First up on the docket was South Bay Thursday. A trip by rail, who doesn't love a train ride, gets us to Palo Alto Trader Vic's. Now, let me me reveal a deep dark secret (no not that one): I have never been to this Vic's. Before you get out the pitchforks and torches, let me remind you: South Bay...Pal-o Alt-o... as in Stanford...Stanford University...see? I thought you'd understand.

Well, first impressions count more than second so let me say this, not bad. I dig the PNG art and the owner has a primo collection thereof. I had three cocktails and two of there were good. One was obviously made by the lone Leland Stanford Junior University grad behind the bar. Still, as Trader Vic's go this one was good enough. The room is simply too utilitarian for me, Trader Vic's or a Bennigan's? Hard to tell at times. See? Do you see what happens when you pour THAT much lemon juice in a Samoan Fogcutter. It becomes undrinkable, THAT'S what happens, man....and then it colors my impressions of the room.

Still, what a great start to the aught-eight crawl. Plus, I got, due to a lucky twist of decadence, to stay downtown in a posh hotel. Hey, Palo Alto is far, and I needed a club. What a club it was too. On toasted sourdough, with arugula and applewood smoked bacon...the Palace Hotel's chicken club is one severe San Francisco treat. It is, to coin a phrase, to "die for". Oh shit, the Harding family may read this, my apologies. He was a great man, if only a pedestrian president.

Day two on the Tiki Crawl and we're staying home. San Francisco that is. Maybe I'll see some celebrities in town for the festivities? That'd be cool. Almost as cool as watching my favorite military precision flying team, the Blue Angels. The time spent watching them fly was time I could not use to get to Tard'r Sam's. I felt like having a tiki drink done as if by Farrell's Ice Cream Parlour, too. Plus, dark secret number two: I have never been inside! So I missed Sam's. Sue me.

Made it to the Tonga Room though, what a lucky bastard! What a great room, what a great great room....sigh. Next!

It's a dark and secretive tale I suppose. Dark secret number three: I had never been to Bamboo Hut. I just figured it was not my style, and that I'd find it difficult to enjoy. Well, burn my toast, I liked Bamboo Hut. Of course it did not hurt that most of the clientele was fellow tiki-philes. Plus, Otto was spinning tunes which made the vibe more to my liking indeed. Also, I had beer. Bottom line, the Bamboo Hut is pretty cool in a counter culture tiki way. It brightened my mood after dealing with the typical Tonga Room experience (What a great room, a great great room. Sigh).

Day Three: midnite rides the bus. Well, like that's news! However, if it's the Tiki Crawl Bus it's news, alright. Dark secret number...whatever...I never rode the Tiki Crawl Bus! Wait, I did hop on the return leg of the South Bay bus. So, I was not a bus virgin. Scratch that last dark secret. First stop was Forbidden Island and it of course did not disappoint. Fantastic cocktail, a much more deeply appreciated decor, and plenty of good times with old friends. A warm Alameda afternoon, a tasty Sidewinder's Fang...why I gotta leave? Oh yeah, I'm on the bus.

The wheels on the bus go round and they roll to Conga Lounge. I like the Conga, but I love the pizza at Rustica even more. So, while the crowd competes for space upstairs we adjourned downstairs for some classic pie. I actually participated in an impromptu "College Avenue Crawl" during our stay at the Conga Lounge. That's for another report, though.

Two down and two to go. The liver is holding up, which is a surprising development to my physician. Off to the Kona Club to see the remarkable work of Bamboo Ben and Crazy Al. Ben did wonders in that space and it's always a blast to take it in. However, this time the blasted volcano was working. The bus crowd is hitting its stride and the evening is full of fine company and soon to be pleasant music? Oh, good Lord...Journey. Someone please set off the volcano again. I just may pass out before the Neil Schon solo...nope.

Last call for Trader Vic's! I love Vic's, I really do. However, by 11pm and after being out and about for over eight hours my sea legs are a bit, well, old. I'm hanging in there, if not for me then for the children. A Stinker, Navy Grog, and Trader Vic's Grog trifecta help get me through the night. Once again Vic's came through for the Tiki Central crowd. The Mai Kai Gents played their tunes and a good time was had, indeed. Is that really "Pretty Woman" on the TV...Ok, on this hand Journey, on the other, "Pretty Woman"...it's getting dark again.

A wee trip and a fine crawl. Too many folks to mention, but it was fantastic seeing you all come out for the greatest, longest running, modern-day tiki event. The glaze is food safe, too. Way to go Hanford, Martin, and Bill. Thanks also to the hard working crews at all the stops, they did a yeoman's job.

Now, the mystery of the Johnny Conch will be solved. This pranksterism will not stand.

The Johnny Conch, oh man, that is rare. Funny, in a dark humor sense.

Darkness? The pain. It's coming back. Yeah, I just stood around way too long. I'm getting old, man. It's October, these things happen. Forget it, Suzanne. It's Chinatown...a few blocks that way.

Until next year, crawl-wise that is.
midnite

Several hours in Disney World, no club sandwich, seeing my old neighborhood (there are peacocks roaming the yards), some decent stuff at Polynesian Village, visiting with long lost family (ya know there is a reason for that)....hmmm, can I get an earlier flight out? Oh, and what is at SFO, in the international terminal? The Tiki exhibit.

More Disney, eek!, but at least there's a pic of Jack Lord.

Okay, this is several years late, but I saw your photo again on page 1 in this post have to point this out.

It's not just Disney stuff you were sick of in that exhibit. Notice anything special about the wallpaper in the background? Does it seem familiar?

It's MY wallpaper I did for Humu for Ooga-Mooga. Yes, they took the wall paper, measuring a scant one inch across, and redrew it 100 times bigger, with new colors. I guess while painstakingly doing that, they didn't have the time to change some of it. I've had my Tiki backdrops taken before, but this is the first I've seen it get transfered into the real world.

I'm flattered, actually. Does this mean I've hit the big league, like the Banana Splits?

~Hanford

Speaking of dark Tiki Crawl secrets... much of the time that Otto was DJing, you were not actually listening to Otto's tunes, you were listening to my Exotica playlist on my iPhone set to random shuffle. There was some sort of technological snafu in the DJ booth at Bamboo Hut, so my iPhone was pressed into emergency service.

So if you liked the music for the first hour or so at Bamboo Hut, DJ Humu's Cellphone can be hired for your next corporate retreat, bris or convocation.

Another funny note about Hanford's story: when I mentioned it to the curators of the exhibit, they told me that they'd selected a totally different background (I forget what it was, but it sounded more legit). Their boss overruled them (this was their first stab at curation, they'd been installers), and the boss came up with this piece of STOLEN ART! They took the ribbing good-naturedly, and I hope they gave their boss some hell.

Mahalo for the narrative, Cap'n midnite.

I regret never making it out for a TC Tiki Crawl but your descriptions and photos help me enjoy a part of it anyway.

Agreed. Midnite's ability to archive events is one of his strongest qualities. He does it with artistry, grace, an wit.

Great thread - definitely worth reading from page one ! Great job chronicling and detailing your travels!

I see you had the joy of watching the racing sausages in my fine town, Midnight. Miller park is a fun place to take in America's Pastime.

The tailgating is even better.

Tell your tiki-loving nephew Richard that if he ever gets over to Milwaukee there are some traces of tiki here to enjoy, and I'll mix him a drink in my home bar.

He can even take a crack at carving a tiki.

Your tales of travel are always a pleasure.

ROMAN HOLIDAY

ROME & LONDON CHRISTMAS 2008

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire...it's that time of year again: yuletide carols, Eskimos, rum induced frolicking. Wrapped up in a box under the glowing aluminum Christmas tree this year is a trip to the Eternal City. A week in Rome for team midnite. Ciao Ciao! (blows kiss)

Obviously, in order to get to Rome one must first go through London. At least that is how I look at the map. Christmas and London go together like yours truly and a good day's work: once a year! Yes, we would stop in London for a few of my favorite things: Cocktails at Vic's and Golden Hinde for fish, room service club sandwiches served in a covered dish. Even on very short notice we were lucky to have some of the Bri-tiki contingent join us at Trader Vic's, a special treat as I consider myself an honorary member (with privileges) of that UK crowd. London Vic's was hopping, decked out in holiday cheer, it was good to see the bar area packed. Of special note were a few locals participating in a spot of long-straw drinking. I approved of that, if not of our first round of cocktails. Things did improve, with my Menehune Juice and Navy Grog being first rate. Also, I was happy to learn, with Chris' help, that the Molokai Mike is NOT the worst cocktail around. Well, least not in London Vic's where it was actually quite good. Cheers to Sian and James for the good times.

We arrived in Rome a bit later than I would have preferred and thereby broke one of my travel commandments: Do not arrive in a new city after dark. That's the breaks, or as they say in Rome, "C'est La Vie!" Still, we did the best we could as we made our way to the Hotel Excelsior, our home for the next six nights. After a brief get acquainted stroll around our Via Veneto neighborhood and a ridiculously expensive club sandwich (decent, traditional, solid) from room service we were ready to explore Rome.

Roam, Rome if you want to. We spent our first day visiting several famous sites of ancient Rome. A lifetime of travel can come down to a few moments: an unforgettable island sunset, that special meal, a timely bribe of the border guard. One such moment for me was the egress from the Coloseo metro station and seeing the Colosseum for the first time. Simply...Wow! For a long time I've held a deep interest in this most famous arena. I mean, there's that Gladiator movie! That, and the likely fact a few of my ancestors probably went down fighting inside the old behemoth. If one comes from, as I do on one side of the family, Central European slave stock, it sort of goes with the territory. I hold no grudge but dear old Dad was a always a bit, uh, cautious around the eye-talians.

The other ancient Rome archaeological sites we visited were similarly awe-inspiring experiences. Rome offers a lot for a visitor to take in. At times there is simply too much, capice? Some of the sites demand a bit of imagination in order to fully appreciate the situation, which can be difficult. One place that was not so was the Pantheon. The majesty of the building is hard to convey in words. Its almost fully intact state is a wonder to behold. The Pantheon will go down as one of my all-time favorite travel "sees" and it is one of those places which utterly blows away all expectations. In today's over hyped world the concern for a traveler is a serious let down from a landmark's pre-ordained, and not entirely bona fide, impressive reputation.

On any given Monday in Rome the vast majority of museums and sites, save the Vatican Museum, are closed. Therefore, on any given Monday the vast majority of tourists go to the Vatican. The Vatican museum is a huge mega-warehouse of antiquity in a tiny city-sized nation state. It's big all right but in some spots it can get a bit crowded. Similar to the Louvre and its star attraction the Mona Lisa, the Vatican Museum has the Sistine Chapel. It is a very popular sight, the room a mass of people with necks bent, heads back, mouths agape, gazing upward. Our visit that morning was akin to a scrum between me and thirty-seven Asian tourists. When one travels during Christmas one spends much time with Asian tour groups, even if like me, one does not wish to do so. Over the escalator and through the acres of religious art and iconography we go! Down too many to count hallways and stairs we (me and many new Chinese friends) are there. Now, as the Pantheon is to "Way cool Fonzie before he wore the leather jacket" the Sistine Chapel is to "Jumping a shark on water skis Fonz" That is to say it is a bit....meh. Now, don't get me wrong the room is impressive. I mean, it's all painted ceiling, Michelangelo, Old and New Testaments, on his back way up high, paint in the eyes, hand of God fabulous. Still, it is...in a way...a yawn. Give me the Vatican's map room and you can have the Sistine. The map room left me in awe, while the Chapel....pishaw. I know, you are thinking "midnite, you're going to hell for that comment!" Nuh uh, not this time, not by a long shot. I've got special dispensation.

The Vatican Museum was a bit over the top, St. Peter's Basilica was simply the tops. I have been to my share, and yours too, of the world's most famous churches, mosques, and cathedrals. They pale, no they fade into meaninglessness, in the shadow of greatness that is St. Peter's. I'm not that much of a believer, but the place is no holds barred inspiring. Get there, check it out, come back and dare tell me you were not humbled and exhilarated at the same time. Did it get to me? Definitely. So much so that I ambled over to the Basilica's Chapel of St. Joseph and went to mass. That is to say, the whole nine yards including the Blessed Sacrament. I took communion in St. Peter's. So, I got that going for me.

For just a brief moment I considered giving confession, but thought the wiser as we had a flight to catch in only four days.

You may know of my affinity for attending Christmas Eve midnight mass around the world. Well, here it was, the Big Kahuna so to speak. The Vatican, the ultimate midnight mass. Little did we know that one has to make a reservation, actually get tickets, to attend St. Peter's on Christmas Eve. Well, we effed up that one, Sarge! Our last minute fax to the Holy See was answered by the prefect, "No room at the Basilica." Christ! This blows. Then I recalled, as may you, my time on the Vatican City Bocce Team back in the mid to late eighties. The Holy See Rollers, ecclesiastical league champs three years running. Well, after a few visits to the Rome Offices of the North American Bishop we scored two tickets to midnight mass. Not the front row mind you, but St. Peter's Basilica nonetheless. Hot dog, we're in business! Then, the other shoe dropped. Judas!

There's a catch, always a catch. A ticket gets you to St. Peter's, and it will get you inside St. Peter's, but apparently one must get in line early as these tickets do not guarantee a seat inside. So, the pilgrim is instructed to arrive at St. Peter's several hours, the sister told me six, before midnight and hope, but certainly not pray, that one gets inside. A few hours standing out in the cold Rome night for a one in three, or so, chance at a seat? Where I come from that is a bit bait and switch. Pappa, we're going to pass on your mass. We'll take our tickets but we'll head to the Excelsior Hotel bar for my own personal "midnite mass": cocktails and club sandwiches. Praise the Lord. I tried the Planter's Punch. Was this drink a tiny spot of tiki in greater Roma? No, more like a small bit of rum in a great sea of grenadine. Ick! Well, I tried. Christmas dinner (also a club sandwich) and cocktails the next day were much better as I imbibed in my traditional Xmas Old Fashioned. The fair Michelle had a daiquiri. Both were yummy. Hallelujah!

Team midnite was back at Vatican City Christmas morning for the Urbi and Orbi blessing. The faithful do arrive early in order to secure a good vantage point in St. Peter's Square. What started as a decent-sized crowd soon became a huge all-encompassing mass of pilgrims. A virtual sea of believers crowding up front where I wanted to be. Dammit, I flew 6,000 miles and I wanna see the Pope! My two years parochial matriculation is just not cutting it here. I had to go public school on them. Survival of the fittest, if not the faithfullness, means a well-placed knee jab "casts aside" a junior pilgrim and I secure a spot for us right up front*. Pope Benedict XVI came out, spoke a lot in Italian, and then gave the blessing in over sixty languages. That means along with the Blessed Sacrament received at St. Peter's I also scored a Papal Blessing. Oh yeah, I'm golden.

*Find the midnites in the photo! This one is easy.

More Rome? Why of course, more Rome! The Capitoline Museum is a must visit. One has to go see the big hand, the huge foot, and the decent-sized head. Seriously though, it is one of the best museums I've visited and should be tops on your list. The Caracalla Baths were something else, too. A bit tough to envision past the crumbled ruins they are now, though. However, the massive scale and virtual remoteness of the baths lends one to undertake a contemplative mood that is otherwise hard to achieve while beating back the crowds and craziness of modern Rome. One favorite moment during our stay was a Christmas morning stroll, mainly along Via Coronari, near the Tiber. It was Rome as one would hope it could always be: ancient, beautiful, quiet, precious. The bad? The Trevi Fountain is a dump. Go very early on Christmas (or any other morning) otherwise not at all. Third world refugees hawking any manner of shite and, if you're lucky, a Peruvian flute band. The depression I feel from encountering the world's great sites ruined by crass commercialism is worsening. The same goes for the Spanish Steps...avoid at all but the earliest morning hours. Oh, one more thing, the number 116 bus is an annoying little ice cream truck of a public conveyance dead set on tormenting my mortal existence. It is evil I tell you!

My final impressions are Rome is big, frenzied, and not the cleanest place in the world. It takes some getting used to and for some personalities the city may be a bit volatile, perhaps too frantic. I fit in pretty well as I lean to the obnoxious, agressive, and overtly hostile. Nonetheless, Rome is one of the world's great cities. Yes, all roads do lead to Rome and seemingly each one ends up paved in hard uneven cobblestones that mess up your feet something awful. Roma, I love ya anyway (blows kiss).

We departed Rome and jetted back to London. At this point I was exhausted and my feet were threatening seccession after countless hours walking five of Rome's seven hills. I wanted nothing more than to visit my favorite city in the world and take in the waters at my favorite Trader Vic's. Well, it seems Boxing Day is too sacred for Vic's to be open. In a spell of sweet irony that befits my earlier 2008 travel plans Trader Vic's was closed for the day. Boxing Day...what the? I traveled six thousand miles, I want a Navy Grog! Sigh. As very little consolation we did visit a first ever Christmas market cum carnival in Hyde Park. Bit of a surreal scene it was. All the bright lights, rides, it's part German, part British, is that a Roman centurion? That's it, let's go play in traffic. Look right, mind the gap, no egg on the club, please.

The year ends with a long posting but it was a special trip and my only international excursion for 2008. The trips of aught eight were filled with much tiki and many tasty sandwiches. More importantly, my travels meant fine times with good friends and family. From Minnie's to London Vic's, from a warehouse in Richmond to St. Peter's in Rome. Ft. Lauderdale to Alameda, Wisconsin to Georgia. Life is good. No, life is glorious.

A new year beckons and new adventures are already planned.

Ciao Ciao!
midnite

ALAS!
All the way to Rome & no pasta!?!?!?
Looks like you had a census of Rome's clubbys, though :D

Looks like you & the Misses had loads of FUN!!!!!

Say "Aloha' to your traveling companion for me :D

MASS Hysteria!

Boston, Saugus, Fitchburg, Uxbridge 2009

Eastbound and down, headed to Beantown to see what they say can't be done. I'm traveling East to watch my nephew Robert James walk across the stage and graduate from Fitchburg State College. What seems like a repeat is almost that. His brother John graduated, we think, from that same institution just seven months or so ago. They're Irish twins, ya see.

The commencement brings me back to Boston, but this time it's the middle of winter and not the best strolling 'round town weather. So, in a fit of hyperactive tiki traveling I decided to head up Saugus way. Take in the waters, down a few, imbibe, bend the old elbow, play me some Keno? Yes sir, just a short trip on the orange line and a longish cab ride gets me back to Kowloon. Saugus's little Chinese/Polynesian drinking and eating emporium for a bit of lunch and some adult beverages.

This would be my second time to the food warehouse. However, Kowloon on a Thursday afternoon is not quite the same experience as my first time there in '06. One wants Kowloon packed to the gills, hundreds in its many rooms, diners, drinkers, Keno players galore. On a lazy and chilly weekday afternoon the dozen or so patrons just did not create the same frenzied buzz and rambunctious confusion that Kowloon displayed on my initial visit.

What the hey, I'm here, enjoy. When the place is almost empty the sheer size and strangeness of the joint does shine through. I like it, though. I could hang here, sure. That is if I could stand cold weather, Boston Red Sox fans, and "so-so" cocktails. I realized that while I had been here before I had forgotten which cocktails I enjoyed and which I had deemed unconscionable. A quick call to midnite central got me the info: Mai Tai and Zombie were my faves. Check. I proceeded to have both on this trip based on my report back in '06. I must have been high.

Mai Tai: ick. Zombie: ick, with prejudice.

The garlic shrimp was ok, if one is used to pretty pedestrian Chinese cuisine. Hungry, it fit the role of "best entree in a pinch". I don't know, perhaps I should have stayed in Boston and gone to Turner Fisheries or headed to the North End for some sweets at Mike's. Next time. I do have one more nephew from the Uxbridge Four who will graduate in a couple years. This time Kowloon was just, what do I say? It was "acceptable". I think I need to go when the joint is busy, crowded, frenzied. That bustle and noise supplied a form of distraction and entertainment which likely colored my impressions during that first visit. Maybe I just caught the weak sister bartender who works the lunch shift.

Kowloon, I will return. I think.

Out to Uxbridge it was for the nephew's graduation. Fitchburg State sees its second midnite nephew to earn his degree in as many years. Congrats were in order for Bob and his BS in Criminal Justice. You know what that means, someone to fix speeding tickets for me in the near future! We celebrated Robert's graduation with some homemade Mai Tai's (way fuc%#@!ng better than Kowloon's) and Painkillers. To pass the time we partook in some cutthroat Wii bowling competition. Verdict? I make a way better Mai Tai than I bowl, Wii speaking.

A few days hanging with my boys the Uxbridge Four, seeing one graduate, sharing some good times...that equals a great trip no matter what. A nice and easy start to the 2009 travel schedule. It's needed given what's planned for the rest of the year.

Noonan!
uncle midnite

you did not order any ambrosia? the neon-bright sweet and sour chicken set ablaze in a pineapple shell is my favorite dish there!

and, we prefer Modern Bakery over Mikes, but either way, im jealous of your wonderful roadtrips!

you owe us a visit too, yaknow..

HOMEWARD BOUND

SAN DIEGO 2009

Was someone on house arrest 'round here? I mean, it's a great big world, get out there and order a sandwich! Alas, the major travel plans for Spring '09 were postponed leaving me with a spell of "staying at home-itis." Not to worry, your intrepid tiki pal will be putting himself in harm's way in some faraway port soon enough. So, with a wee spot of time on our hands and an itching to see someplace, where do the midnites go?

"Do they go to Marseille, or Arugala Bay
or some far archipelago?
Nah, they go to San Diego."

San Diego, my home for a couple of years in the mid-70's. I had not been back since '76, save for that wild overnight stay at Jack Murphy in 1982 to see The Who. My Dad left from here for the PTO in '44, then came back to San Diego as a drill instructor during the Korean War to train new Marines. My Dad's old Mr. Bali Hai mug started my journey into tiki, so let's go back to "Dago" and hoist a few for old time's sake, for dear old Dad, and Mom too.

While I once was a resident of this great city, my recollections of what to see and do back then revolved around the ice cream truck, slamming a tennis ball against the garage door, and eating at A&W. So, I contacted some of my San Diego sources for insightful advice and came away with some great suggestions. The first was the "Tractor Room", a "the Mid-West meets New York" steakhouse (as the manager put it). The only bad thing about Tractor Room was the fact we had to leave early for the Giants-Padres game. We ate WAY too much and were only able to try a couple of cocktails. I had the buffalo burger and the wild boar spring roll. My Mai Tai was made with the correct ingredients and was quite good. Michelle's Prohibition Punch was first-rate. My only complaint would be serving the Mai Tai in a tall ceramic bamboo chimney mug, proper presentation and all. I so wished to try the Zombie, but one more drink was akin to a wafer thin mint if you catch my drift. I will be back to the Tractor Room.

The Padres took it to our lowly Giants as is to be expected and the rain delay put a rather dreary mood on the event. Blecchh! Still, that's one more MLB Park for me and another chance to heckle a few of my favorites. Saturday brought a bit of better weather for a trip to the San Dieo Zoo and a chance to make faces at the animals. Hey, that was fun when I was nine years old and this time round at least the Meerkat seemed interested. I liked the zoo and so did Michelle even if she was struck with paralyzing abject fear as we traversed the zoo high up in the aerial tramway. An unexpected spot of severe turbulence hit our, and only ours, bucket but my steadying presence saved the day. Highlights of the visit were of course my bonding with the aforementioned Meerkat and seeing a tortoise which was likely not far from the very same spot I saw him roughly thirty-five years earlier. They move quite slowly, you know.

Saturday night we ventured to Shelter Island and a stay at Humphrey's. Quite an impressive facade that. Wow. Our room, overlooking the stage, was spacious and comfortable fitting the bill perfectly. We had some time to kill before dinner and because I make it a rule never to eat at the zoo we were a bit famished. What's that there? A room service menu? "Hot dog!" Well, more like "club sandwich!" A decent one at that, too. Hit the spot. Tiki and a club sandwich: as the USMC say, "F#@!&ing Aay!!"

A quick walk took us to Bali Hai, where one might say it all started for me. Some quick back story: after my Dad died I held a large garage sale. After days of sorting through and tagging items I found his circa 1975 Mr. Bali Hai mug. Hey, I remembered this weird thing, it's two straw hole head, it's sleepy countenance. I recalled how years before I came across this beast wondering, "What the...?" Wow, what memories it must have held. A real special night for my parents, a rare night away from, well, me. This was a near heirloom, a family treasure? Five bucks...sold! Alas, the financial windfall it provided was gone too soon but the memory of that droopy-eyed native stayed with me. A couple of years later I had this sudden urge to search for "Mr Bali Hai" on the internet and on eBay. To my utter surprise I saw the same mug selling for way more than five dollars. From that little acorn my love of drinking...uh, tiki, started to grow.

So, this was going home. The birthplace of cool, as it were, for me.

The Bali Hai did not disappoint, hardly. First impression, it's a bit smaller than I expected. Otherwise, because I had seen all the pictures before it was truly like visiting an old friend. I loved it, it was a special night. We sat at the bar, chatted up the bartender, ate at the best window table, and took in the view of San Diego's beautiful downtown skyline. It would have been great to be there with my parents and drink out of a big ceramic head as my Dad refused to tell war stories. Still, you take what you can, eh? Being there with the fair Michelle, knowing my Dad liked this place, took my Mom there, and that old mug started me in this aesthetic? Priceless.

My expectations for the cocktail experience at Bali Hai were fairly muted. I was keenly aware that the drinks may not be what I thought of as top-notch. Well, virtually without exception our selections were very good and in a few cases, excellent. We started, of course, with a Mr. Bali Hai and a Goof Punch. The MBH was a bit sweet for me but I could dig it nonetheless, and I truly liked the Goof Punch. I had a Zombie which was as much a visual as a taste treat. Superb, go home and slap your Mother good. We tried eight cocktails total as we were able to come the next afternoon for a little Easter Sunday imbibing. Were we lucky? Did we catch an unusually good pair of bartenders? Has my palate diminished? Don't know, don't care. While the food at Bali Hai was run of the mill I would be back every week to have a few more Zombies, Aloha Kisses, and Goof Punches. Oh, I did order Mai Tai number 2,035,205...and while "World Famous" and stronger than model glue it is not for me. My brain is still stumbling around Shelter Island looking for the Red Sails Inn.

San Diego is one great city. I liked Shelter Island and the surrounding area quite a bit. It seemed similar to Huntington and Newport back when I was growing up in those towns. I cannot wait to go back. Why did I stay away for so long? Although next time, no zoo. We'll go to Sea World!

Fortunate Son,
midnite

Glad you enjoyed my home town! I also think the drinks at Bali Hai are pretty good, especially the Goof Punch. The drinks have improved since the first time I went there. Next time you have to check out Albie's Beef Inn, The Red Fox Room, and the new Riviera Supper Club (another cook-your-own-steak place by the same folks who did the Turf Club).

A Tale of Two Tikis

Las Vegas 2009

It was the best of times, it was the less than best of times. June comes again, as it seems to every year, and therefore time for the fair Michelle's birthday celebration. Departing from recent habit, this year I will not stray, I will be around for her actual birthday. Once again, be careful what you wish.

This year we head out to the desert to take in the waters, gamble a bit, and dine like it's 1968. A quick weekend out Las Vegas way. It will be just enough time to make a new friend and pay final respects to another.

Years ago I would scoff at visiting Las Vegas, it was not for me. The theme was too family-oriented, the place a bit tired and silly, typical Vegas gaming a pedestrian activity in my eyes. My attitude changed about a decade ago during my first trip to Vegas and now I like to visit on a regular basis. All you can eat buffets made quite an impression on me.

This visit would have us staying at the South end of the Strip at The Hotel at Mandalay Bay. Nice place. A bit sleek and Euro-trashy but how can I slight staying in a hotel room larger than my apartment in San Francisco? The hotel was great, the club sandwich in the lobby restaurant was mediocre. Snake eyes for that effort.

We hit the jackpot though for Michelle's birthday dinner. Some of the big hitters were consulted for this selection and their combined expertise did not disappoint. Mrsmiley planted the seed with his Las Vegas dining tips and the deal was sealed when I sought guidance from the righteous one. WWJD? "Golden Steer, my son. Go forth and go with the 20oz Rib Eye." The Golden Steer was three sevens, a classic, one authentic slice of Vegas history. We sat in Mickey Rooney's booth, downed a couple of Old Fashioned's and enjoyed a great dining experience. A highlight of the stay and we'll definitely be back.

Dinner was a winner, let's double down on some late night beverages. Rolling the dice we're off to Frankie's Tiki Room. Craps? Well, to be honest that is what I anticipated. When this place was announced I was, of course, very interested. Years ago I went with eager enthusiasm to Taboo Cove, I was giddy to hear of a Trader Vic's opening in Vegas. I wanted to see it done in Vegas, done well and executed properly. I saw the bearded clam mug and thought, "Uh, wrong. Wrong in so many ways." Thus, I had dismissed Frankie's out of hand and did not keep track of the place whatsoever. Well, I am in Vegas, might as well give it a try.

Wrong, so wrong...I was. Frankie's is a real winner. Treated well by the friendly bartender, we were able to sample a few cocktails while taking in the swell decor and design elements. I felt at home given its clear kinship to Alameda's Forbidden Island. Drink-wise the Lapu Lapu and Mai Tai were quite good. I thoroughly enjoyed our time at Frankie's. It is without a doubt a worthy contribution to the Tiki world. I truly liked Frankie's, tasteless mug notwithstanding, and not just because of what was coming the next day.

It's never easy losing a friend, seeing the end coming, visiting that one last time, knowing death is near. Sure, it may be a merciful demise, but it still hurts even if the idiot bastard never should have been born. You still go, you have to. Yes, you go, you try to remain stoic. You also hope he looks away long enough for you to reach down and pull that effin plug and put the miserable SOB out of your misery.

Yes, I went to Las Vegas Trader Vic's. I knew what was coming, I'd heard the stories, seen the pictures. Nothing prepares you though, not for something like this scene. Oh sure, one can be conditioned to it enough so the shock would not be too overwhelming. I suppose a few days in the Ebola ward of some Congolese hospital would do the trick.

A Mai Tai?, in a red plastic cup, in an empty, joyless room. Do not resucitate.

That was gruesome, but it was still a great weekend. Got to spend it with my favorite gal celebrating her birthday. The Golden Steer and Frankie's were definite winners. Heck, I even came back with more money that I took. I am pretty lucky!

Threes, Sevens, and Nines...
midnite

Golden Steer sounds like a porn flick.
I'd have steered (get it? get it? hunh?) clear of it if I didn't have the jab's word up.

Great read as usual.

Love the Mai Tai shot - it says more than a thousand words and they're all synonyms for "suck."

I wanted to see it done in Vegas, done well and executed properly. I saw the bearded clam mug and thought, "Uh, wrong. Wrong in so many ways." Thus, I had dismissed Frankie's out of hand and did not keep track of the place whatsoever. Well, I am in Vegas, might as well give it a try.

Wrong, so wrong...I was. Frankie's is a real winner. Treated well by the friendly bartender, we were able to sample a few cocktails while taking in the swell decor and design elements.

Midnite,

Never Doubt a Bamboo Ben Tiki Bar!!!

Glad you enjoyed.

CHICAGO '09: HIRKI LAU II

Oh, we're going to a Hirki Lau...and we're gonna get married!

Take a deep breath, come back in off the ledge. No, no, NOT midnite getting married. Marriage is to me like that other four-letter word: job. Not the groom, Magumbo, just a guest. Yes, it is time for the best little tiki event in the land, Hirki Lau, and number "due" was held in midnite's favorite American city: Chicago. Bang bang! Good food, some baseball, a lot of drinking, some exchanging of vows and one less suave oily bo-hunk is available, ladies.

Chicago is, to me, the most American city. I love it, even if that low-rent U of C Law School deemed me unworthy twenty years ago. Baahhh, 'eff them, the slugs. No, I am not bitter. Slightly sour, but not bitter. I still love the city and have visited enough to have a ready-made hit list of things to see and do that make me one happy traveler.

The food, the great architecture, the friendly and warm Mid-Western hospitality. Chicago has it all, plus now a new Trader Vic's. Oh yeah, and club sandwiches, thems too. From our Mag Mile hotel base we ventured off and hit all the best spots. While I am much more of a North Sider when it comes to baseball allegiance, the Cubs were away so I was able to visit the new White Sox stadium and take in a game. That is one more MLB park for me, close to visiting about half of them by now. It was also free admission night, who said free!?!, at the Art Institute so we took in some culture along the way to the ballpark. I dig the Gauguins, the fair Michelle is more a fan of the miniature rooms. She's wee, ya know.

Food-wise Chicago is one of the best worldwide, I say. Of course, we consumed some Giordarno's deep dish and made a pilgrimage to Harray Caray's. Harry's surprised me when I first visited over ten years ago, and I've made sure to go back each visit since. The fair Michelle had to order the classic Chicken Vesuvio, while I had some pasta to go along with my "Old Fashioned" lunch. Midnite needs his medicine, kids. Wow, I would love to live here, but I'd probably gain fifty pounds and go to rehab twice yearly.

Speaking of imbibing, this is me we're talking about, were you aware they put in a new Trader Vic's? I, I did not know that...maybe I will go see it...every night we are in town!

Yes, let's get to the tiki aspect of this year's Hirki Lau. While last year's inaugural event visited multiple locations, Hirki Lau II was based solely at the new Chicago Trader Vic's. Fine choice overall I'd say as it is Mai Tai month all July. Our first night at Vic's was partially spent hosting the beginning of Hirki Lau co-founder and this year's groom to be, Richard's, bachelor party. A group of his brothers, friends and soon to be brother-in-law came around for a pre-party cocktail or two. It was a very special treat for me to see those four at Vic's. There they are in the photo, from the left: Trader Vic's Grog, Zombie, Tiki Puka Puka, Tortuga. Oh, I love them nephews too! Seriously though, my four boys enjoying my favorite libations: priceless memory for an old rummy.

The bachelor party was off to partake in activities I cannot divulge publicly as the bride surely reads these pages. Meanwhile, the fair Michelle and I stayed and dined at Vic's. My filet was a bit overcooked and that was about the sole negative during our visits to this new Vic's. The cocktails, so many many cocktails, were virtually without fault. I ordered some tougher ones too (see above, Tortgua) and the bartenders did a great job. As Hirki Lau is primarily an exercise in drinking I'd say number two was a huge success. While I'd like the decor to be a bit more "more" and the atrium is really lame I liked the new Chicago Trader Vic's. It is not the old Palmer House, but life goes on, ya dig? We had great service, from the bartenders, the manager Adam, to Erika, our favorite waitress. Great times, we were treated very well, indeed.

You will undoubtedly recognize Richard and the lovely Kylie from previous trips, and of course last year's Hirki Lau. Well, it was time for them to...gulp... tie the knot, take the plunge, jump the broom, get hitched...married? Yeah, said Donger, MARRIED! Now, I don't think we'll make this a regular activity in future Hirki Laus, but it was a special evening. The arc of life is a neat thing, sometimes. I recalled his parents wedding (on the very same date 28 years earlier), little Ricky's birth, splashing about with him in the kiddie pool out in the yard, seeing him grow from a goofy teen to a college grad and now....now...married.

There's the happy couple during several portions of the festivities. I wish I took better photos, but I was sobbing and shaking quite uncontrollably. Sure, some emotion from the service but mostly an allergic reaction to being "that" close to marriage vows. Another close call as I undertsand the stuff can be contagious. The ceremony was brief and the reception was a fun time for all. Kylie is now a member of my family and you know what that means. Uncle midnite has another to assist in my dotage's round the clock care!

Congrats to Kylie and Richard. I think they will do just fine, thank you very much.

Sandwich? Oh yeeaaaahh, the club. From the Chicago Inter-Continental Hotel comes their room service offering. Not bad, great view of the river from the room, but just so-so on the sandwich. A bit too much mayo and the serious error of using packaged deli sliced turkey. Fresh sliced, oven roasted, say it with me.

Hirki Lau II was a resounding winner. We increased the attendance by like 300% year over year and the revenues were up considerably. Things look A-Ok for number trois. Kylie is now legally one more "Hirki" for next year's Lau.

For better or worse!
midnite

On 2008-06-06 07:17, GatorRob wrote:

On 2008-06-05 19:32, Haole'akamai wrote:
Did you get to see the ladies room?

Judging by the above photo of the two of them waving from the ladies room, I'd guess they got to see the ladies room. I'll tell you what, the Thorntons made sure the ladies would have a space to powder their noses and tweak their beehives in style!

The men? We just get a dark, dank place to pee. And we like it that way...

[ Edited by: GatorRob 2008-06-06 07:21 ]

But WE get PABLO!!!

HOMEWARD BOUND

ORANGE COUNTY 9/09

Orange County? Orange...eff-ing...County? Is it me or are my travels getting lamer than...? Wait a minute now, Orange County is the birth of cool. Okay, maybe not the birthplace, but it is the wellspring, the hothouse, the adolescence of the midnite meme. Yes, it is time, after but a mere fifteen years away, to go back. Huntington Beach: my old home, my refuge. I grew up on your shores, you made me what I am...now bugger off.

Ha ha, no, I love Huntington and my decade and a half absence was only partially intentional on my part, really. Allright, in all honesty I am a firm believer in what I call the first rule of Slovak-British living. To wit, "What is behind me does not matter...and it is dead." So, I sort of stay away from the past, if I can. Alas, the fair Michelle and I had an engagement down Newport Beach way and I took her around the old stomping grounds. Some melancholy, some "Wow, that is gone?", some "Whew, glad I am gone", mixed with not a small amount of proper sadness. Life goes on though, and some times it involves a righteously good club sandwich shared with an old friend, as it were.

After the white knuckle trip down memory road we took in lunch at the hangout of my teen and early college years, the Harbor House in Sunset Beach. I do believe I have taken more meals there than any other commercial establishment. Invariably, any night out or social gathering during those years ended at Harbor House and almost assuredly when there I had the Seafood Combo. Not his time Magumbo, nope. This time Michelle had the combo, I had the club sandwich! It was sublime, so good in fact I would gladly come back and eat many more. However, you cannot go home again can you? Those days are gone and shall remain just that...history. I got to take my favorite gal there though, so that was a BIG plus. Will it be my last visit, who knows? If it is, it's appropriate I got to share it with Michelle.

After lunch we motored down PCH and made it to Newport Beach for our appointment with disappointment. That's a long story but not as long as going back to Newport's Fashion Island to, sort of, play in the Japanese Koi pond that first held my attention some forty years earlier. Thus ended our trip back in time from the late 60's to late 80's. For actual duration this was the briefest of excursions but for pure emotion and history...unbeatable. No really, I tried beating it many times, those memories still haunt me. Ergo, the drinking.

Back in Frisco and the next morning I am up bright and early for much more enjoyable activities. It's time for the second, or is it third, Trader Vic's Warehouse Sale and Trekker Convention. Notice I said Trekker. Whatever, my cool years were left in the sand and tennis courts of Orange County, now I am grown up and my self-confidence is strong enough to handle my tiki weirdness. Also, at least I did not get there at six-thirty in the morning!

The sale was a great time indeed. The warehouse girls and guys were there and putting up with us even better than at last year's sale. I really think they're warming to us. We all headed over to Vic's for some cocktails and camaraderie. Now, if Emeryville Vic's could make a half-decent seafood combo I could virtually go back to the 80's: put on my linen jacket, wayfarers, slick my hair with...ok maybe not.

We added to our meager collection of Trader Vic memorabilia and this sale's special acquisition was one of the holy grails for yours truly. No, not the Senor Pico chicken bong. Already got one of them. It's great to visit the warehouse, learn some new history about the company, just take in the sights. No matter how many times I have been (What's that Kier?, "Way too many!") a visit there is sort of like being a kid in a, for me, Bonsai Tree store.

The weekend ended with a special birthday celebration for my fellow Vic fan boy and Quicksand teammate, Mai Tai. Check out the near immolation bowl drink photo, I think I am due for a Pulitzer. We wrapped up the baseball season with a final game at ATT watching the Giants finally win against my otherwise favorite Cubs. Caroline and Rob flew all the way from Wisconsin to enjoy the ballgame and warehouse sale. Due to the game's scheduling she was unable to attend the FI Parking Lot Sale. So, all you tiki fiends owe me for that.

For a number of reasons the midnite travels have been backburnered a bit. I promise to rectify that condition in the near future and visit the wild and exotic locales I am known for visiting. Then again, going back to Huntington is, psychologically speaking, one of the more dangerous trips I have ever undertaken. I am up for some place less stressful, maybe I will finally book that flight to Port Moresby?

Who am I kidding? A super fine club sandwich at dear old Harbor House, my best girl by my side, showing her where much of it all started for me, then some baseball and Trader Vic's collecting with good friends? That's a smile, a big smile.

Gnarly good times, dude.
midnite

Don't keep us in suspense, what holy grail did you acquire?

did the club sammich from h house kill you?

were art thow 12:00 ???

• RevBambooBen wrote
  did the club sammich from h house kill you?

were art thow 12:00 ???
*

The club did not, but recently a bad Vietnamese muffin came pretty close to deep sixing me.

I am on foreign soil and safe for now. This place has decent sandwiches. Some have argued it also has the best tiki bar in all the world. That much I would not dispute.

Signing off for now from a remote locale via remotely viable technology...

midnite

GREAT EXPECTATIONS

MUNICH-STUTTGART-PRAGUE DECEMBER 09

Our Christmas trip came a bit early this year. That timing may have been off by a few weeks, but the trip was years in the making. As the year ends, and with it a decade, it can give one a sense of place and time. Perhaps even a chance at some personal assessment. Life is a journey, and sometimes, as those wacky Germans say, it's a sort of bildungsroman. Uh, well, they do make a mean automobile.

MUNICH

Just two short years ago I visited Munich and found it somewhat lacking. However, I adore the Munich Vic's so it was an obvious choice to return with Michelle for a few days before our trip to Prague. Last time in Munich it was June, this trip was literally six months later on the calendar. I'd counsel visitors to see Munich during warmer months. So much there is geared to outdoor activities, drinking included, it is a shame to be stuck inside. Unless, of course, you are stuck in the basement of the Hotel Bayerischer. Then the world is your oyster and a Tahitian Pearl would be a nice aperitif.

Ahh yes, Munich Trader Vic's. I prefer to call it by another moniker: Heaven on Promenadeplatz. The old London v. Munich debate raged, until now. I can declare Munich Trader Vic's my favorite, and also the most outstanding, of all I have visited. If one wishes to compare the host cities then Munich is no match for London. However, if strictly which Trader Vic's to see if you could visit but one? Munich.

Our three evenings spent at Vic's were the highlight of the trip. I was able to again trade stories with my favorite Trader Vic's bartender, Joe. He's still going strong but do get there and visit him soon as the word "retirement" is popping up in conversations. Any serious cocktail enthusiast should have Joe prepare a few for him/her. Now, for this recreational imbiber "a few" means...well, they use the metric system and with the conversion I am not sure how many it equates to in pounds, or dollars for that matter. I had a litre or two. Some new faves were discovered (Hello, Hinky Dink's and Siboney) and some old friends revisited (Ahoy, Tortuga and Tiki Puka Puka). One interesting side note for you cocktail fans would be Dr. Funk's Son. I asked Joe what the natives were drinking and he mentioned Funk's Son is a popular choice. A neat thing about Munich's presentation of this cocktail is they still retain the classic ice vessel. I have had a Dr. Funk's Son served this way only twice before. To see the cocktail come out encased in its own ice jacket: so cool! However, I still don't much like the Son...better to go with Vater Funk.

Vic's was not all potent potables; we also ate quite well. Getting a table was rather a pill though. It was holiday season and the place was hopping, packed full of revelers. No table was available until 10pm! Now, as an American I find late dining to be as appealing as European plumbing. In a spot of brilliance I considered the time difference back home and the new fangled wireless device at my disposal. In what must stand as the ultimate manifestation of my Trader Vic's fanboy status I called in some "air strikes" from Vic's HQ to help me secure a better table. Help from the corporate cavalry was on its way. Still, while I waited I tried the ole midnite charm on our server, Susan. It worked, go figure. She set up a four top for us in the dining room near the bar. Susan was a real sweetheart and we were treated very well by everyone at Munich Vic's.

The three days in Munich were not simply spent waiting for 1700 hours. No way, Hans! One day we took in a couple of the Pinakotheck Museums and enjoyed some very fine art, except for that glowing green installation that got us all Hulky. Those wacky German artists! Better yet, the days in Germany were also a way for me to make the Pilgrimage, my own Car Haj. A good trip was about to get epic. Next stop: Zuffenhausen.

STUTTGART

Munich is home to my cocktail haven, nearby Stuttgart is birthplace to another object of my religious devotion. In a stroke of pure genius the fair Michelle came up with the idea to visit Stuttgart and more precisely the new Porsche Museum. See why I love her? Porsche, Trader Vic's, my best girl. Could things get any better? Well, they could serve a club sandwich at the museum cafe. Still, in the realm of personal happiness, this day was way up there. I was able to stroll amongst the most famous efforts from my favorite marque, including one special model which played a prominent part in my own life. It was an exhilarating trip down memory lane in all its top-down and air-cooled glory. I got to touch "Number One", the first ever Porsche. Michelle had to drag me away before I signed papers at the dealership across the street for a Guards Red beauty and took European Delivery right there and then. I had to settle for a nice photo book. Plus, you know what they say about red cars anyway.

PRAGUE

As my travels continue I face the dilemma of expanding my tally of places to revisit while simultaneously maintaining a long list of destinations I have yet to see. Prague was until this trip on the latter but it won't be on the former. For over twenty years I wanted to visit Prague. I recall when the Soviet Union fell and I entertained, for a brief time, the notion of going there like so many other young Americans and starting a business. Prague was the beautiful capital of the country where my Father was born. It was, in a sense, the homeland. In some manner it held a spell over me. I had looked at many photographs of her beautiful cityscape. My international travels started, in earnest, a decade ago. Yet, Prague was backburnered, always the "next place." Years went by and it never was the next place, until now. Oh, the anticipation.

Well, Pip, I'd say those great expectations bettered me. Prague was just, how do I put this, shallow and unfulfilling? More beautiful than all but a few places I have seen yet a city to which I could not warm. She's a beauty, but past the facade it's ugly and somewhat venal. I've known pretty girls like her. Girls from my earlier, and pitifully immature, days. The beauty she possesses will make your heart go arrhythmic. She's the one relying on her looks, playing off her physical attributes, and unable to go beyond that which people have said about her for so long. "So gorgeous, the Paris of Central Europe, a gem of a city, a dreamscape." She transacts in that currency, knows how to please, if only temporarily. You get a little glimpse, a look-see. Pay the price, be with the beautiful girl. "I'm yours" she whispers, "All yours, really." Ahh yes, Prague is that tall blonde with the pale blue eyes and I so want her to be mine.

We alighted in Prague at the infamous Central Prague rail station, Hlavni Nadrazi. Now there's a joy to behold! Dig the Czech train station scene if you can. I cannot. Alarmingly dark, dilapidated, leaking buildings do not warrant my affection. This inglorious beginning to our stay continued as we unduly labored to get across the city to the Mala Strana neighborhood. This is not going as I had envisioned. Why are you treating me so poorly, Prague? Finally, a sanctuary of sort was found at our hotel in the embassy district, right across from the U.S. facility. A bad first impression is all, my love affair with Prague will soon blossom.

Time to eat, time to get this trip moving back in a positive direction. Of the many dining options I found for our stay in Prague one was a well regarded small French bistro near our hotel. We came for the delicious steak entrecote but the cocktail menu had piqued my attention. Not unexpectedly, I heard the siren call of a tropical libation. Could that be the salve to this ghastly introduction to Prague? The gruesome main rail station, the surly locals, the never ending bloat of tourists? Zombie will make it all better. The sweet and familiar nectar of a favorite cocktail will surely soothe this increasingly savage traveling beast. Go forth and find thyself a well-made beverage and its spirits shall lift thou. Yes, that cocktail cometh, and it will be good and...

It's blue. It's a blue drink. A...blue...drink.

Jesus weeps. I had to laugh. I also kept an eye out for errant red cars the rest of the trip.

Prague was not all bad news, hardly. We were quite pleased with the Alchymist Grand Hotel and our walks through the Lesser Quarter. The Charles Bridge in the early morning was a pleasure. Likewise for nearby Kampa Island. I enjoyed the Pilsner Urquell from a Tankovna pub. The small Mucha museum was a treat. By fits and spurts Prague offered contentment, in jerks and fools Prague suffered from too many. Her vistas are beyond spectacular: the red roofs of Mala Strana, the Art Nouvea of Old Town, the Vltava and its many bridges. She is so stunning, yet the city seems evasive, distant. I want to love this place, but am unable. Why? Clarity arrives late one evening as fog crawls over the cityscape. Ethereal light illuminates the gates of Karlov Most. The allure of this moment is breathtaking. It is a scene from centuries ago, one that has captivated so many before. Here it is, repeated again, just for me. Now my thoughts are familiar. I lived this moment years ago whilst under the spell of a similar beauty whose affections I so dearly wanted to recapture. "Say you love me, say I'm the one." was my plea,* "Say it one more time."* Ahh yes, I remember how that one ended. That was a lesson learned. Only this time I stop her before she can respond, "Forget it." I think, "I don't wanna hear it, not this time, not anymore."

Prague, talk to you later. Save it for another guy.

Sandwiches? Oh, I ate a sandwich or two. Worthy of note was the club sandwich at Pusser's in Munich, home of the Painkiller. I wish they had a lighter touch on the mayo but it was still quite good. More surprising was my affection for the house cocktail. It warmed my dodgy heart on a cold night in Munich. Spicy, yummy, rum goodness. On that positive note we end the travel year 2009. For many reasons this year's travels fell a bit short of expectations, great or otherwise. Good times were still had though, from Central Massachusetts to Central Europe. The past was a recurring theme in my trips this year and others. I suppose there was some personal searching amongst all the miles, a retracing of my history. Perhaps I was trying to assess what was lost and why. A decade of travel ends. I retire a well-used passport and recognize it's what can still be that truly matters. Looking backwards is really no way to travel.

I do think it is time to close the chapter on Europe for now. Let's look west, and go east.

Rote Autos, Blaugetränke und Blonde Frauen...sind schlechte Nachrichten.
Herr midnite

Hmmmmm....think i enjoyed Prague a little more than you did
I was there in the spring before 9/11
80 degrees every day, and the dollar was still strong
Let's compare notes at the Cove.......

Welcome back, Midnite! Great read!
I'd dig to hear more sometime soon. It'd be great to see you guys!

Midnite, Porches and Tiki...hmmmm. I think it's time to start a new trend. Oh and by the way, I was confused for a moment because I saw Ms. Midnite in the Princess Chair...and mistakenly thought it was FI. Oh silly me, wrong country. Oops. CL Out.

Get Back, Back to Where I Never Belonged

TUCSON 2010

The 2010 travel season begins and although I have received my new passport it wasn't needed for this quick trip out to Arizona. A few days out West (East, really) to hang with family and take in some of the state's best tiki offerings. I have spent many months, a year or more, in the Phoenix area and I had never really visited Tucson, never went to Kon Tiki. Time to change that. Road trip!

A few months ago when this weekend was planned I realized the magnitude of my oversight in never making it down to Kon Tiki. Sure, it is a veritable time capsule of tiki, but there was more, something more significant than a few wood carvings and some bamboo. Kon Tiki serves food, more precisely a...club...sand...wich. Oh. Oh, yes.

Over the years I have heard much of Kon Tiki and when we arrived I was surprised at the location and setting. I expected a larger property, a bigger building, not wedged in like a small book on the shelf next to larger tomes. That bit of disappointment was quickly remedied by the "No Firearms" sign on the door and the few old timer rummies taking in the waters at about 11:45am on Saturday. My kind of place: serious drinking safe from any ricochet danger. I prefer my gun play in a brighter room anyway.

Kon Tiki was fairly empty and therefore primed for the random tiki fiend, moi, to take it all in and capture numerous snappies. A friendly regular even turned on the lights in the empty rooms for me, a nice gesture. We settled in for some lunch and a few cocktails. Is it afternoon yet? I started, and stopped, with the new classic mai tai Kon Tiki is offering in their souvenir highball glass. Ten dollars, five bucks for refills. Me likey, me drinky three-ey. A very solid mai tai, much better than the other mai tai on the menu which my Sister ordered. The fair Michelle took a random walk through the drink menu, with varied results. Starting out great with the Hawaii Five-O (a suggestion from a fellow Tucson TC'er) after it things went downhill fast. I was happy with my mai tais and a solid club sandwich.

Yes, a club in a classic old tiki bar. This place is about as close to "mine" as I have come across in my travels. To say I dug it would be a serious understatement. While the sandwich would garner only passing marks on its own the fact it was served in a forty-seven year old tiki bar moves it to the head of the class. Kon Tiki's club sandwich is valedi--hic--torian! Think about it. The world's perfect club could be served at the local Renaissance Faire or tractor pull, but I ain't going to enjoy it. Vintage tiki and a club sandwich, hallelujah.

Tucson's Kon Tiki is now one of my favorite spots on Earth. I'd move out there, but where would I boogie board? The decor is much better than I imagined, even with a few too many painted tikis. I know we are blessed with some nice tiki destinations up here in the Frisco area, but you Tucson folk have a real gem. I am particularly happy I got to introduce my niece and nephew to this place as their first exposure to tiki. I will be back to Kon Tiki, and not just because of those five dollar mai tai refills, although that really really helps.

TRADER VIC'S SCOTTSDALE

We had three nights out Phoenix way so were only able to make it to Trader Vic's twice. Bummer. Still, we did make the most of our stay with introducing my niece to the Trader Vic's universe by taking her there for her early birthday dinner. Fulfilling my duty to recruit new initiates into the fold I figured it was time, she's seventeen now, to start showing her the ropes. I think it went pretty well, perhaps she will become a tiki connoisseur like one of her cousins. If not, I have other nieces to take over her MFN (most favored niece) status.

Dinner at Vic's was good, solid, respectable. Not quite on par with the food at Munich but much better than what continues to be served in the dining room at our local Emeryville. I do like the Vic's out there in Scottsdale. It's not classic decor by any stretch, but I can appreciate the modern design desert aethestic as appropriate for a Trader Vic's in Arizona. The place does well merging some new sensibilites for the local market to the traditional Vic's menu, both dinner and cocktail. We were there on Valentine's Day so maybe things were skewed due to the holiday, but the place was hopping.

It was good drinking all around. Mai Tais a la old fashioned and a cocktail server who made the ingenious, and much obliged, decision to bring me a "side" of grog with my ever present Navy Grog. One of my bright line drinking rules is the groggier the better. Also, one little known codicile to the midnite life guide is multiple sugar sticks always work better than one.

We maximized our tiki fun for such a short trip and found a new pearl of a destination in Tucson's Kon Tiki. The weekend allowed me to cross off one more old time tiki destination that I should have visited years ago. I got to spend some time with family, introducing them to places their uncle always rambles on about. Plus, I furthered my role as good uncle, passable musician, by gifting my very first Fender Strat to my nephew "Ringo", a burgeoning guitar player.

February was a familiar dip in the travel pool, April awaits with a dive head first into the deep end.

I really think so,
midnite

JAPAN
Hakone - Kyoto - Tokyo

Part One: Big in Japan

The naughts are over, a new travel decade awaits. After nearly ten years touring most of Europe's capitals it's time to explore the East. Team midnite is off to the "Land of the Rising Sun". We'll visit the Hakone region, historic Kyoto, and modern Tokyo. Japan will be our initial venture into Asia, a first time visit to a new continent. Why go there? I'm big in Japan.

What, you were expecting some allusions to a particular song from The Vapors? Nah, I like my 80's pop, but I am more of a Tom Waits fan. I really think so, think so.

HAKONE
The Fuji-Hakone-Izu region of Japan is a large national park area popular with the Japanese for its natural beauty and hot springs. We stayed at the historic, if a bit quirky, Fujiya Hotel in Miyanoshita. It's the sort of place that could easily find itself in a Stephen King novel. It is actually more akin to an elderly aunt way past her prime yet with some of her charm still intact. It was a smile.

What was not a smile was the "typhoon" that raged during our first night in Hakone. Our purpose in visiting the region was to take in the natural wonders of the hot springs, the nearby Lake Ashinoko, and the breathtaking views of Mt Fuji. However, the worst rain I had seen in years put a real kibosh on those plans as much of the area was temporarily shut down due to very high winds. The weather finally cleared a bit and we visited the Owakudani hot springs area. They are not kidding about the sulphur vapor danger. That stuff will kill you, if the black eggs don't get you first. Even with the inclement weather Hakone was a nice entree to Japan. We got our feet wet, so to speak. Also, the fair Michelle tried out her chopstick skills. She did much better after learning one holds both sticks in a single hand. We left Hakone after two days, riding the bullet train (Shinkansen) to Kyoto. Hey, look there, it's Mt Fuji!

KYOTO
As we researched Japan tourism one constant recommendation we encountered was to visit Kyoto. The former longtime capital of Japan is the historic center of the nation. It's all there: Buddhist, Shinto, Zen, Geisha! While the cityscape is not compelling, the surrounding hills with their temples and shrines are amazing. We spent two full days exploring many of the best known sites. A few were particularly captivating: Myoshinji Temple Complex was a quiet and relaxing oasis set amongst the hectic metropolis. Ryoanji Temple contains the famous stone garden, a thought provoking arrangement of fifteen rocks next to the temple's Zorokuan Tea room. One is supposed to see only fourteen rocks from any perspective, but Zen masters know a trick to view all fifteen at once. So, I got that going for me.

The too popular Golden Temple is a waste of time for anything but a few pretty snappies. It is beautiful, but Michelle noted the actual gold facade is so contrary to what we perceived as the Japanese aesthetic. It's all Liberace glam in a sea of restrained and tempered sensibilities. A pair of others were much more inspiring. The Silver Temple (not silver at all) was a gem with the nicest gardens, the Eikan-do Zenrin-Ji Temple was my favorite. The guidebooks somewhat dismiss Eikan-do, but it is incredible. Between these two runs the "Philosopher's Walk". One strolls along a canal under countless cherry trees, perhaps thinking of how incredible Kyoto is and why one would ever leave it.

Japan can be more beautiful than any country I have encountered. This was especially true during Cherry Blossom season. We did our best to pick the optimum week; the cherry blossoms were in full bloom during our visit and prettiest in Kyoto. When the wind picked up it "snowed" petals, something the large koi fish in the ubiquitous ponds seem to enjoy as a treat. Kyoto is an amazing city; we barely scratched the surface of this charming place. That means another visit someday to see the temples we missed and to again wander its many small lanes and alleys full of restaurants, bars, and strolling Geiko. Sigh, that's a burden I will have to endure. Next up was a ride on the super fast Nozomi Shinkansen to Tokyo and the "future today" lifestyle of that modern megalopolis.

TOKYO
Perhaps some back story is in order. Much like Prague, Japan was a place in which I have had a keen interest. Two issues were prominent in my thoughts about this trip. Firstly, I anticipated I would feel connected to, and truly like, the Japanese people. This was mainly due to my hobbies/interests and how they often mirror those of many Japanese. Secondly, my Father fought a war against this country. It may seem strange to you but it was something I contemplated before the trip. Nothing more than that, just a realization which was unique to this place, these people. That said, my Dad visited Japan many times on business and always seemed to enjoy the country. I certainly was growing fond of the place.

Tokyo, yes, where to begin? I am not sure, but wherever it is...keep moving! The Gods favor those in motion, especially in Tokyo where the alternative is to be overcome by the flood of people coming from all points, going to....well, everywhere. I was beginning to understand the Japanese focus on the singular, the precise, the calm. I could see why they strive for that one perfect moment or object. Such sure-minded focus on the small and the serene has to be an antidote to the "Blade Runner" cityscape of Tokyo. There were moments I thought I had left 2010 and somehow ended up in 2110. As Hakone was natural beauty and Kyoto cultured history, Tokyo was in your face modernity fueled by caffeine and noodles, illuminated by more neon and bright lights than a hundred Times Squares. One can cross a single Shibuya street with literally thousands of locals. Pull up your socks, tie the shoes a bit tighter and get going. This is Tokyo, and life here? It goes to "eleven".

Our goal for Tokyo was to forego the conventional tourist destinations and simply experience Tokyo as much as possible like a native. Well, a "native" who can read three Kanji symbols and understand about six Japanese phrases. What the heck, just get out there and ride the wave. That was the idea, it worked pretty well. We actually shopped quite a bit. In my travels I rarely pick up souvenirs, I haven't the room if I purchased but one item per trip. However, Japan is home to Sun Surf shirts and they are rather difficult to obtain in the States. They are, however, big in Japan. I came back with a suitcase full of amazing reproduction 1940's-50's Hawaiian shirts. We also shopped, make that browsed, at Mitsukoshi, the oldest and most posh of the huge Tokyo department stores. Arriving before opening time we were able to take in a very Japanese shopping experience. The many employees stand at attention at their respective stations and "welcome" the first of the day's clients. It is quite a treat.

What else would a Tokyo local do? Maybe grab some Takoyaki (octopus dumpling) and watch the Yomiuri Giants play baseball at Tokyo Dome. Baseball in Japan is almost identical to the States. Cheering for Japanese baseball teams is a whole other matter. The fans do not stop chanting while their team is at bat. The seats are really small, too. On our last day we took a spell from the Tokyo hustle and headed a bit North to the Omiya section of Tokyo and visited the bonsai tree nurseries and museum. I've liked Bonsai since I was a child (yes, really) and to see the trees in their homeland was special. They're wee little things, just like Michelle.

Tokyo was at times infuriatingly complex and aggravating. The metro is an abject exercise in Darwinian survival. Being head and shoulders taller and many pounds larger than virtually all Japanese did help me. Still, getting around is a serious test of directional skills. The city's pace is frantic. Tokyo's sights, sounds, and overall cacophany of life race in fifth gear all around you.

Notwithstanding that sentiment my time spent in Japan lent itself to one unique conclusion. In my travels I always get to a point where I count the days remaining to departure. Sure, I may love the place but I am always ready to go home. I started counting the days left during our stay in Tokyo, too. However, it was not to await my return home. No, I counted the days until I had to go home. I did not wish to leave. I liked the people, their approach to life. I dug the sights, the sheer beauty of Japan. It is simply my favorite country I have visited. At times it was as exotic a place I have been, but I felt quite comfortable, at home. Take away the language barrier and I moved, acted, lived like I was not in a foreign land but in my own.

I thought I might like Japan, its people, and places. I ended up falling in love.

Nippon wa saiko desu!
midnite

PS What of tiki, club sandwiches, and cocktails? The "life midnite"? Ah, yes...that awaits in Part Two.

I was tempted to leave your post uninterrupted and patiently wait for Part Two but it's too good not to let you know it was good and that I can't wait for Part Two. So you can can read three Kanji symbols and understand about six Japanese phrases? Jeez Midnite, you really are Big in Japan.

Oh no, there goes Tokyo
Go go mid-midnite
(Can you change your TC name to Godzilla please? Sure goes better.)

From what I understand, this started the whole Japanese love affair with baseball:

So they should thank us.

Excellent report there, midnite-san. So excellent, you should be writing for Condé Nast, not us slobs. I bet their readers don't drink rum through a straw though. Cognac maybe.

Deadline's approaching. Wrap up part 2 already. Golden Girls is about to start.

JAPAN
Yokohama - Tokyo

Part Two: Ain't this the life?

Let's talk tiki, yes? It's why we're part of this online community, one hopes Japan has something for those of us so inclined. The answer is muddled. Among Tokyo and her greater confines their are two big names: TIKI TIKI and Trader Vic's. I checked them out, the results were mixed.

TIKI TIKI YOKOHAMA

Our choice was to first visit TIKI TIKI in nearby Yokohama, as I heard it is bigger and perhaps a bit nicer than the Tokyo location. Plus, it is in Yokohama, providing the chance to visit another city in Japan. We arrived too early, a mistake. We left pretty quickly, not a mistake. It's not so much that TIKI TIKI is a bad tiki bar, it's just not my tiki bar. To my taste TIKI TIKI is P.F. McFuddlebee's tiki.

Yes, it is a bit of a "mega-excitement big terrific aloha" gestalt. I did my best to have a good time, and the TIKI TIKI employees were receptive and helpful to a pair of American tiki-philes. Service in Japan is uniformly good, earnest without approaching obsequiousness. Are the drinks good? No, not hardly. It was not because of what else I experienced in Japan, that would be an unfair comparison. No, the drinks were below par on their own merit. Nice garnish, lots of variety...but poor. The food was acceptable. I've had worse, but that is really no endorsement. We got off on the wrong foot at TIKI TIKI, and unless you wish to hop around all night on your other leg, things will revert to that initial impression. We did not care for TIKI TIKI, so much so I opted to pass on the Shinjuku location. That decision was not regretted for a second. No, not hardly.

TRADER VIC'S TOKYO

I like Trader Vic's. Sometimes I like Vic's too much, to wit, I canceled a trip to China when the Beijing and Shanghai locations ceased operations just weeks before my departure. To paraphrase Jonah Jones, "I dig Vic's!" So enthused about visiting this location we even chose to stay at The New Otani Hotel which houses Tokyo Trader Vic's. Same building, just a couple of elevator rides, twenty-two floors. We visited everyday. The New Otani was a great decision, even if we did spend less time at Vic's than I had anticipated. More on that later.

Tokyo Trader Vic's is positively superb. In my opinion it is one of the best worldwide. The reasons are many. The decor is classic and authentic. It is what Trader Vic's should be, now, then, and always. It remains, like a bit of the past preserved in amber, one of the seminal franchises along with London, Atlanta, and Munich. We were treated very well and that was even before they learned of my tiki status. Wink wink.

My Trader Vic's corporate contacts were disappointingly unfruitful for me on this trip. I would be on my own, solo and without air support, schmoozing the staff. Alas, I had a secret weapon at my disposal: Super Happy Fun Time Lobster Shirt! On our second night I wore one of my older Sun Surf shirts and while at the bar I was warmly greeted by Tokyo Vic's greatest asset: General Manager Larry Murakami. On this trip Fun Time Lobster Shirt was my ambassador. We spent more than an hour with Larry talking Vic's, Japan, food, drinks, even Tiki Central. Larry's commitment to his Vic's is without peer and his storytelling skills are first-rate. He also has fine taste in shirt wear.

One negative aspect of a good time at Tokyo Vic's, and a lobster shirt helps not a bit on this front, is the place can be expensive, almost prohibitively so. Your favorite Navy Grog or Mai Tai? That will be over twenty dollars, American. Drink slowly. Notwithstanding the pain-inducing exchange rate our cocktails were consistently well made and enjoyable. The sole mistake was Michelle's selection of "Miss Cherry Blossom". It was a special for the season, a Sakura infused cocktail with, umm, cakes? Little cake-like squares on top which are to be stirred into the drink and....I had better stop now. We sent it back after one taste and no photograph. It was frightening. This was in no manner a special happy fun time drink.

Tokyo may rightly become one of my all-time favorite locations. Beautiful, original decor and design (except those windows in the bar) with wonderful service. The cocktails are what one expects of Trader Vic's, do try the Tokyo Sour. These features make Tokyo a fine Trader Vic's. Care to know what makes it perhaps the greatest? That would be:

Three, let me repeat this for emphasis: THREE! different club sandwiches on the bar and lunch menus. All were good, the American Clubhouse fantastic. Our last day, before we left for the flight home, we had lunch in the bar. We were served by the friendly and able bar manager, Mr. Takeshi Uehara. I had the American Clubhouse sandwich and a Mai Tai. Hell, I like just typing that. What transpired can simply be described as one of "life's moments." Sitting in the bar at a world-class Trader Vic's, drinking a well-made Mai Tai, dining on a stellar club sandwich.

I am trying to get Larry to rename the American Clubhouse after me, we'll see. I mean, I am big in Japan.

Go to Tokyo Vic's, have the club or three. The natives are friendly and the lobster's free...
midnite

JAPAN
Tokyo

Part Three: This must be the place

"I'll be at the bar...in Tokyo."

That will be my response. Put it on the voice mail greeting, perhaps send a mass email, notify whom it may concern. I shall be in the bar, and I will be happy.

May we dispose of the niceties, the social platitudes, the protocols of everyday polite discourse? Yes, the temple is nice, the cherry blossoms pretty, the cities clean. Japan's is a lengthy history; she is a land of great innovation and accomplishment. It is a cultured and advanced society. I do like it so, but I can leave it. I can leave it all behind for that tiny room, likely without windows, and simply live. I mean by this not just imbibe to drunkenness. Any one coin bar in Shinjuku will satisfy that pedestrian goal. No, I mean a real cocktail bar. The sort of place one orders a drink and savors both it and the convivial atmosphere it engenders. An elegant glass, a measure of liquor, that glorious ice. Perfection.

The best bars in the world are in Tokyo. If you care about cocktails like someone I know, you must get there someday. You will saddle up to the polished hardwood, and while upon that bar stool you shall be king, or queen, of the mountain. Having ascended the cocktail summit, reaching the genre's pinnacle, you will never again think of your local in the same way. These bars are that great, their proprietors that dedicated to their craft, their concoctions that magnificent.

THE BEST BARS ON EARTH

The Japanese did not invent it. We did. They didn't originate many of the recipes. We did most of that, too. They don't produce much of the booze. Numerous others do that. They just do it, better. It, is the art of the cocktail and in Tokyo it is produced at the highest level. The best bars, the best service, the single greatest cocktail I have ever had. The...best...cocktail...ever.

Bar Ishinohana

You may have seen this Shibuya bar featured on Anthony Bourdain's Travel Channel program. In the first basement of a non-descript office tower, Ishinohana, like so many of Tokyo's great bars, appears as a plain wood door and simple metal sign to the unknowing. Step inside and one enters a cocktail laboratory. Spend a few moments looking at the ice. It is astonishing. It's just frozen water but the stuff is a sight to behold. Clear, diamond-like. Ishinohana is a high-end drinking emporium dedicated to the fine arts of bartending. Notice I refrain from using the trendy parlance of the day: mixology. These gentlemen, and a few ladies, tend bar.

The room is modern, dressed up more than the other bars we'd visit during our stay. Mr. Ishigaki was not behind the bar when we arrived, so his able assistant bartender made our first drinks. The fair Michelle orders the cocktail that put Ishigaki on the map, Claudia. A bit over the top with its cascading garnish of cut radish, cherry, lime peel, and pineapple leaf, I am suspicious of its close proximity to goofy-cocktaildom. I am wrong to judge this book by some random vegetation. Rum-based with a dusting of red peppercorns on top, this mix of vermouth, pineapple juice, and caramel, is fantastic. Shoot, it may look gimmicky, but this thing did not win a worldwide drink contest because of a cute name and salad garnish. We continued to drink from Ishinohana's menu of original drinks.

My first selection was not as successful. A mango-based martini I believe the bartender failed to prepare properly. A bit alarming when one is talking nearly $20 per drink, but things got much better when I tried the Ishinohana original "Oriental Beauty". A simple cocktail of anisette and kurant vodka it possesses a layered array of flavors. Michelle had a Wasabai Alexander which she declared quite good, thank you very much. Mr. Ishigaki arrived soon after and I decided to have one of his signature Claudia cocktails. It seemed appropriate to have one made by the originator. It really is an amazing drink. The two types of pepper contrast with the sweet caramel resulting in a surprisingly tasty combination. We left impressed.

The other bars we frequented were located in Ginza district. Ginza is home to literally thousands of small bars, restaurants, parlors, and lounges. The sheer amount is astounding until one realizes there are over twelve million Tokyo residents and most of the bars are tiny establishments capable of seating perhaps twenty or thirty patrons. The two following bars in Ginza, and those like them, do pack more cocktail expertise and drinking enjoyment into their small footprints than any places in the world.

Tender Bar

If Japan made me feel at home, which it did, Ginza's Tender Bar was my home address. If someone asks, Tender Bar is where I'll be...where I'll be.

Tender Bar is set in a utilitarian office building, on the same floor as a hairdresser. Its plain entrance belies the sanctuary behind it. Enter that door and one is immediately greeted by a white-coated bar steward. Soft, difused light fills the bar. Appropriate music is piped in, quietly. There are no windows. It is a cocoon. One's blood pressure seems to lower the minute the door is silently closed behind you. The proprietor and head bartender is Mr. Kazuo Uyeda. His is a name known by bartenders and drinking connoisseurs the world over. Originator of the "hard shake" one can learn much about him on the net. That is not my intention herein. No, I wish only to convey the sense of what it is to drink at Tender Bar.

Mr. Uyeda masterfully prepares and serves the classics. Old recipe cocktails mixed with attention and service as they must have been served in the States five or more decades ago. Each ingredient, each liquor bottle with its label facing the customer, is placed on the bar in front of the customer. Everything is immaculate. The glass, the shakers, that beautiful Japanese ice. Yes, the incredible ice, expertly hand-carved into varying shapes for specific drinks. If serving a cocktail can be art Uyeda is a true master. The customer's interests are queried if one desires assistance in selecting a cocktail. "What liquor do you prefer, sir? Do you enjoy short or long drinks? Is there a flavor you wish to investigate, do you prefer sweet or sour?" Sure, many bars do this sort of thing, even here in Frisco. No one, I mean no one, does it like these bars. It's not feigned, it's not an act, not some hoops they jump through for a bigger tip. Mr. Uyeda and his disciplined crew of bar stewards deeply respect cocktails and those who enjoy them. There is passion here, dedication to a craft that is founded in mastery of a particular skill set. Bartending in Japan is a respected and desired career position. Tender Bar, like others in Tokyo, has taken the American experience of fine cocktails and preserved it. They're keeping the theme alive here, and they are perfecting it.

We went to Tender three of our four nights in Tokyo. Our new friend Gary the bar steward (not his real name but it seemed to fit) told us no Western tourists had ever been back three nights. We'd have gone a fourth but for our visit to Yokohama's TIKI TIKI. I tried a multitude of cocktails because although the price of these gems is steep, the alcohol content is set for Japanese tastes and body types. Translation: I could burn holes in the Amex and never get toasted. Gimlet, Sidecar, Sours, Coolers, even my dear friend the Old Fashioned. Simple, elegant, timeless drinks made by an expert, true to the original recipes. My favorite was a grapefruit-based drink Uyeda made for Tender Bar's first anniversary. These cocktails take time to make and one enjoys them much longer than normal. There is no hurry here, you are expected to savor the drink and relish the experience. We would finish our first round and notice an hour had passed. During our final visit the elegant older couple next to us ordered a cocktail and much discussion ensued between Mr. Uyeda and them. They had been, as were we, ordering different cocktails while most customers sipped the ever popular single malts. I asked this couple the drink's name and ingredients. This started a conversation which resulted in their insistence I sample their drink. The stylish dame knew enough English, both really knew their cocktails. In a fit of awareness usually reserved for more sober moments I realized, "They're us!" The two of them, spending a long time in a bar, talking drinks with Uyeda, sharing with those around them. Yes, a bit older, invariably much more sophisticated, but they're us. The Japanese midnites!

That was a smile and a half among the special evenings at Tender. Mr Uyeda's bar is my favorite spot in my new favorite country. This must be the place, I thought. It is.

HIGH FIVE

The best for last? Yes, in some respects. Tender Bar is my favorite, no doubt. However, for pure cocktail excellence there is but one place to visit, and one bartender to make the drinks. The place is Bar High Five and the owner/bartender is Hidetsugu Ueno. Again, one can read much all over the net about the man and his skills. I concur with the conventional wisdom about Mr. Ueno's talents and his dominating stature in the Tokyo cocktail scene. Suffice to say, at Bar High Five in Ginza I had the best cocktail of my life.

The man does not suffer from bouts of humble modesty. He is full of himself and his abilities. His opinions on cocktails, bartending, the state of other bars including those of some well-known Tokyo masters, are freely shared. He knows he is good, he'll tell you as much. He walks it, though. The bar is smaller than my college apartment, with seating for maybe fifteen. It is nothing special. The space is a dark shoebox of a room, not really that well decorated, a bit shabby. The place reminded me of a professor's home office, whose many books are instead bottles of high-end liquor. There's a huge ham (he cures his own Iberian-style Jamon) at the end of the bar, a small hot plate behind a curtain in the corner. A single dirty picture window offers a birdseye view of the Tokyo expressway. The place is a bit of a downmarket stepsister to the elegance of Ishinohana and the luxurious comfort of Tender. Absolutely none of it matters once the glass is set on the coaster in front of you.

I had read up on Ueno and learned from other bartenders that one should try his Pina Colada. "Yes," wrote one bar expert, "have the Pina Colada." So, Michelle did just that as she does enjoy a good blended tropical drink. This was not simply a good Pina Colada. This was Godzilla Pina Colada, destroying all other such drinks, leaving befuddled, stunned, and astonished any drinker who got in its way. Devastation in a simple glass, no garnish necessary. Nothing to distract the drinker, simplicity in the form of utter perfection.

My initial strategy was to enlist the bar stewards' help in making my selection. What I really wanted was for them to say, "Here, we know more than you, drink up." However, that is really not the Japanese way. After some discussion the conclusion was I like rum (I suggested Havana Club), long drinks, on the sour side. The bar steward told this to Ueno along with his choices for my drink. Ueno, with the wave of one hand dismissed the employee. He muttered a few words to his bar stewards, shot his cuffs and pulled at his braces. He paced a bit, deep in thought, formulating a recipe on the spot. Sure, it was a bit of a show, but I gladly bought it. The ingredients were placed in front of me. It was a type of cooler, with a Sakura liqueur employed as a nod to the season. It was refreshing, light and entirely appropriate once Ueno told me his thought process. He explained that this morning in Tokyo had been bright and clear; the sun coming out after several days of rain. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom and it seemed to him that this was the best day of the year. The nameless drink, said Ueno, was his expression of the Spring which had just started. Okay, this guy is good.

I figured this was going to be expensive but the time was so right, the drinks so exceptional, I could not leave. Another, yes, I shall have another. This decision was more difficult. I knew we had much more on our plate for Tokyo and I likely would not be back to High Five. Do I order an Old Fashioned, maybe a nice Martini? This time it was soley my call, and I was stumped. I was blocked. Yet in the back of my mind I had this recurring thought, something I had read about Ueno. "Singapore Sling... Singapore Sling", was the refrain. I kept hearing it. His were purported to be legendary. But another tropical drink? Okay, let's do it: Singapore Sling.

Eight ingredients later (the most of any drink he mixes) it was placed in front of me. I tried it. One eyebrow arched and I could only think: Holy shit! Ueno awaited my reaction. Playing it cool and not feeding his ample ego I merely said, "Pretty good." He shrugged and responded with a sense of dejection, "Hmm, pretty good? Okay." Then I bust out laughing, telling him in all truthfullness that this was the best drink I had ever had. No hyperbole, no exagerration, just the facts. The...best...cocktail. Ever.

I had reached the summit. For those brief moments I was in the ether, atop the cocktail world if you will. Ueno, playing my bartending sherpa, got me up the mountain, showed me the view from the highest peak. It was time to descend. The ample bill settled Mr. Ueno walked us to the elevator and warmly bid us farewell. For some time I did not speak, I was stunned into silence. A quick glance to Michelle and a wry smile was all I could muster. She knew what I was thinking. She'd know, if the need arose, where to find me.

At the bar in Tokyo.

midnite

WOW!! Amazing follow up Midnite, Thank you. I've always wanted to go over there but now I do more than ever.

I'm glad to hear that you really are BIG IN JAPAN!!

WAIT A SECOND!!! :o

Are those Menehune picks holding that club sandwich together?

Nice. :)

A lovely tale, Cap'n.

Worthy of a great cocktail.

Where lurketh the midnites?