The Last Days of Summer: Part I

Over the course of the past month, our friends had been slowly disappearing. They were off to have adventures (and study) everywhere from California to Ohio. With less than a week before our own departures, Brenda, Ally, and I embarked on one last hurrah (at least for this summer, anyway). With a full tank of gas in my mom’s ridiculously fuel-efficient car and Brenda’s copy of the Dirty Dancing soundtrack at hand, we drove to the Twin Cities.

After dropping our overnight provisions at Nana’s house, it was decided that we needed food. Immediately. So, our day started near the Macalester campus where we had lunch at Shish and roamed the Common Good bookstore.

Just as we discovered a beautiful magazine section, Jason texted Brenda. Noting that we needed to return someday soon, we headed to the University of Minnesota campus.

Brenda navigated the sprawling University campus brilliantly and we eventually located Jason. All that was left to do was to decide how we wanted to spend the next 12 hours. We had a list of options: the Mall of America, Ikea, the Midtown Global Market, and the Minnesota State Fair. Because we are both ambitious and indecisive, we decided to just do it all.

We parked in Hawaii, perused H&M, squeezed into the Forever 21 photo booth, downed iced lattes, made tough decisions in Aerie, walked a lap, found the exit, had Jason take over as chauffeur (if you can drive in LA, you can drive anywhere), emotionally moved into an Ikea apartment, sampled futons, bought a plant, temporarily named the plant Harold, drove to Midtown, tasted French pastries, delighted in cheesecake, devoured Crème Brûlée, pondered creepy piñatas, fawned over colorful fruits, departed for the Fair, and whistled in the car.

But then we saw the Electric Fetus. All other plans were paused.

Being the record-obsessed music fanatic that dreamt of living in the Twin Cities nearly all her life (approximately four years), Brenda considered it a rite of passage to step into the Electric Fetus. Known as the Holy Grail of Twin Cities record stores, the Electric Fetus has been servicing angsty youth, hipsters, and grown folks alike since 1968. Her hippish friends always gushed about the Electric Fetus on their trips to the Cities, and she had always envied them for that. Now it was her turn. As she stepped foot into the Electric Fetus for the first time, her eyes grew wide with awe and excitement. All sense of time was lost. For God knows how long, she flipped through records, made laps around the aisles, dug through a box of free posters, and marveled at the amount of coolness she was witnessing. After walking away with a number of free posters and a Dirty Dancing soundtrack vinyl (yeah, Brenda is the kind of person that feels the need to own the Dirty Dancing soundtrack on MP3, audio CD, and vinyl format), the gang headed towards the Minnesota State Fair, the sun beating down on the city skyline.

The State Fair was exhausting. Fun fact: it’s the second largest State Fair in the country right after Texas. Because I’ve attended nearly every year since birth, I guess you could say I’m somewhat of a fair aficionado, and I proudly showed off all my favorite attractions to my inexperienced friends. We fished through a crowded art gallery and miles of fried food kiosks, hit up The Midway—riding the “Stinger” included both the euphoria of viewing the fair lights upside down and the pain of banging one’s head against ineffective headrests—and indulged in Sweet Martha’s Cookies. In the evening, many of the buildings were starting to close (no free samples in the Grandstand), but wandering the fair while it was filled with live music and neon lights was a unique experience in it of itself.

When it was time to depart, we rested our aching feet—Ally was hardcore limping—and let the Sky Glider carry us back to the entrance. As we sat suspended in the night sky, we heard “Minneapolis/St. Paul! Are you ready to rock and roll?” It was none other than Aretha Franklin. Aretha flipping Franklin. She’s 72 years old and still bringing stadiums to their feet.

As Aretha mesmerized us with her voice, the fireworks lit up the sky. It was the most well timed Sky Glider trip in human history.

Ironically, as soon as we left the Fair, all four of us realized we were hungry. Back near the U, we assisted Jason in feng shui-ing his dorm room and picked up a pizza with sausage and roma tomatoes. Taking our food to-go, we drove through the late summer night with the windows rolled down and music blasting. Back at Nana’s we devoured the pizza and washed it down with Arnold Palmers; we made sure to use place-mats.

Although we maybe should have rested before our big day of music and excessive food consumption at Chipotle Cultivate, we instead decided to watch a movie. Picking a movie is always a difficult process. Ultimately, it itwas a tie between some kind of Black Power Kung Fu movie and two different scary movies.

Despite the fact that Brenda hates scary movies and Ally and I really had no idea what we were getting ourselves into, we went with “Phobia,” a collection of gruesome vignettes, courtesy of the Thai horror movie industry. The next two hours were spent squirming on the couch, hiding our eyes behind pillows and blankets— occasionally out of actual fear, occasionally out of disgust for the poor CGI. By the time we reached the point where a woman was trapped on a plane with the vengeful mummified corpse of her loverboy’s wife, I didn’t know whether to be terrified, amused, or seriously confused.

After that experience, none of us wanted to be alone, in the dark, with unfortunate Raggedy Ann dolls smiling on the shelf, my Nana’s creepy grandfather clock chiming eerily every fifteen minutes, so we all piled into the other guest room. Jason knocked out first, taking up most of the floor space. Ally, Brenda, and I were all reluctant to sleep in the middle after a watching a vignette where the person that sleeps in the middle DIES. So, Brenda, being the shortest (and the last to go to bed) took one for the team and slept in the cozy plaid reading chair. Ally drifted off to sleep soon after Jason, and eventually, Brenda and I followed.

Despite having walked eight miles the day before and then having stayed up until 4 AM, we woke up Flawless. Under the circumstances, there was no other way our day could have begun than with a Beyoncé dance party. We made an impromptu bonfire out of couch cushions and danced around it in the utmost ceremonial fashion, hailing Queen Bey as we sang along to her empowering hooks.

Once everyone was done getting ready, we headed out to the Bad Waitress, a delightfully hip diner plastered in movie memorabilia. It’s called the Bad Waitress because no waitresses actually take your order; you write down the order yourself and turn it into the cashier. Brenda got an El Camino, I got the Out-of-this-Earth Scramble, Ally got Eggs Benedict, and Jason got some tofu dish. Our dishes came out beautifully and we spent a solid three minutes making photographic rounds (for magazine purposes) before allowing anyone to indulge in their meal.

After our satisfying brunch, we spent an hour or so exploring the area. We poked our heads into bicycle shops, high-end boutiques, and vegan restaurants of all kinds. Afterwards we parked our car at the Walker Art Center and headed on over to Loring Park to get our Chipotle fix at the Cultivate Festival.

Being the free event that it was, the festival was packed, not only with people but also with Chipotle propaganda. We began our epic journey to complete a series of challenges that would culminate in the form of a free burrito. However, lines were long and we soon gave up. We did manage to get ourselves some free Ben & Jerry’s for supporting GMO labeling, though.

Throughout the afternoon there were a variety of musical acts and celebrity chef demonstrations. Ally, being a religious viewer of “Chopped” on the Food Network, made sure we went to see Amanda Freitag. She charmed the audience with pork chops and deep fried green tomatoes. She was a lot of fun to watch, but it’s always a little sad to watch someone prepare food that you don’t get to actually eat. The delicious wafts of sizzling pork chops reached me all the way in the back corner of the crowd and I was reminded of the free burrito that was never to be.

At around 4:45pm we headed to the music stage to check out the Grouplove performance. The joyful experience of being sandwiched between throngs of hipsters and men in mesh pineapple printed shirts brought back memories of Rock the Garden. Despite the painstaking tiptoeing and rather exhausting task of avoiding beer spills, we were entranced by the charisma of the band and had a blast overall. Things definitely got turned up a notch when the group played their ever-so-catchy hit song “Tongue Tied.” We screamed along, watched the crowd surfers go by, and danced as clouds of Mary Jane hung over our heads (because hipsters keep wads of marijuana in their pockets at music festivals, just itching for a mere suggestion by one of the bands). Brenda and I were especially excited when they pulled out a grungy, garage band type cover of Beyoncé’s “Drunken Love.”

After the performance was finished, we sprawled onto a patch of grass, contemplating what to do next. We ended up taking a long walk back through the Sculpture Gardens and heading over to Dinkytown in search of something to quench our thirst. We happened upon Chatime and ordered various boba filled drinks. While enjoying them (well, with the exception of Ally’s painfully bitter tea that calls for an acquired taste), we played with an incredibly sticky Jenga set and took in the reality of the approaching school year. The last weekend of our summer was coming to a close.

Once we were finished with our bubble tea fix, we dropped Jason off at his dorm and headed back home. We righted our course after a short, unintentional detour, and the rest of the ride was fairly quiet. We discussed our favorite Scooby-Doo episodes and our college packing lists, our anxieties of starting college and plans of getting together in the future via Amtrak. In melodramatic terms, it was perhaps a bittersweet farewell, and we probably would have addressed it at some point, if only we weren’t distracted by the fact that I couldn’t figure out how to turn on the car lights. Rest assured, I eventually called my mother and we got home safely. We rolled into town at around 8:30pm. Our goodbye was filled with tight hugs, promises to keep in touch, and Brenda reassuring me that she would eventually finish a mixed CD for me. The next time we are all together, we will be college students. —M., with a bit of assistance from B.

Movie Review: Dirty Dancing

Once upon a Saturday evening I flipped through Netflix and found Dirty Dancing. I loved it so much that I collected the soundtrack from my mother’s CD stash, got it on MP3 format, and bought it on vinyl. In addition, it spurred a Latin music phase of sorts and inspired me to join a dance club at the U. Now I dream of finding my own personal Patrick Swayze and dancing the nights away with him. Despite the obvious hints that the movie was made in the ‘80s—like the grotesque exercise wear and synthesized pop tunes, it was amazing.

The Midwest Argonaut vol. 2

The second issue of The Midwest Argonaut is officially published! The last two weeks have been absolutely insane and nerve wrecking— I still can't believe Maddy and I managed to create a magazine while on separate continents. Nonetheless, we are proud of our baby. 

Make sure to check it out here.
If you're feeling generous, support us and buy yourself a copy for $8!

A Day Trip in the Cities

Today, the plan was to have a kickass time at the 10,000 Sounds Music Festival. The problem was, we last minute found out that it's a 21+ show— a fact that they forgot to advertise on the homepage, banners, and countless radio mentions I heard over the month, might I add. Since I had already taken the day off, I figured why not do something fun anyway. 

And so, me, Ally, Alvin, and Anthony got together around 9:20 am and headed to the Mall of America. We ate our breakfast there and went shopping for a few hours. We shopped our butts off at the overwhelmingly large Forever 21 store, took silly photobooth pictures at the Doc Martens store and sent some to Mr. Terpstra (a former economics teacher of ours), and we found an Italian restaurant that smells like dogs (perhaps it's the smell of some grains or wheaty ingredient). 

After we were done with our shopping, we headed over to IKEA. For whatever reason, Saturday afternoon is the perfect time for people to crowd inside of IKEA stores. Our IKEA trip was filled with sitting on couches, beds, and chairs, and reading the Swedish names of items out loud. Anthony was in heaven; he bought a set of 310 thread count bed sheets, a set of Space Invader decals, and wooden hangers. The whole time I had an overwhelming yearning to live in a cozy brick apartment in St. Paul and decorate it with cute IKEA things. I was fantasizing about buying cute rugs, furniture, wall decor, and lamps for my future apartment.

Once Anthony was done purchasing his items with the help of a cashier that looked a lot like T-Pain, we made our way to the Walker Art Center. None of us had ever been to the Walker Art Center, and getting there in the first place was quite the ordeal. There were plenty of exits missed, lane changes gone awry, expletives directed at Google Maps, and angry drivers behind us. Needless to say, we were extremely relieved when we finally got there.

A super cool pic of the Walker Art Center, taken from the official website: http://www.walkerart.org/visit

The first thing we did was check out the gift shop. Art museum gift shops make me drool. I skimmed through thick books with delight, played with all the cool little gadgets, and indulged in the beautiful ambiance that is art museums. 

After we had our fill of the gift shop, we finally remembered that we still had to explore the museum. Once we got our visitor tabs at the desk, the lady told us that we had 45 minutes left before the museum closed. All of a sudden I recalled the MOMA debacle from March and had a slight panic— what if we don't explore it all in time?

It's always difficult exploring a museum under time constraints. You want to get to everything but still be able to take the time to absorb it all in depth, and it's difficult to figure out that balance, especially in a museum you've never been to before. We quickly zipped through the museum within half an hour, and missed a few galleries because they were closed for maintenance. After we knew we had gone through everything, we went back to carefully analyze and get a full look at what we saw. 

I had a lot of fun going through the museum and reading the stories behind the pieces. I'll be honest that I was weirded out by a handful of the pieces, but it's a modern art museum, what can you do? I was immediately reminded of MOMA, even as we stepped into the gift shop. I truly enjoyed the clean white walls and minimalistic ambiance, as well as the interactive set up. 

Once the museum closed, we walked over to the sculpture garden. It was a lot of fun, minus the hot and humid weather. There were three weddings going on at the same time, which was kind of fun to watch from afar. We went through the Cowles Conservatory, marveled at the beautiful plants, and viewed the sculptures, including the iconic Spoonbridge and Cherry sculpture often accompanied with Twin Cities/Minnesota guide books. Meanwhile, Anthony was taking pictures of the sculptures and adding hilarious captions to them on Snapchat. 

After a long an exhausting hour or so of walking, we sat down and tried to figure out where to go for dinner. We ended up going to Peninsula, a Malaysian cuisine restaurant located on Eat Street. We ordered achat salad, roti canai, shrimp fried rice, and mango beef with white rice. The food was spot on and super delicious. Although it was pricier than we had expected, we were able to split the cost between four people and pay about $10 each. 

Overall, it was a fun and exciting day. It was extremely exhausting and stressful at times, but it was totally worth it. I cannot wait to go back.

For more information on the Walker Art Center, click here.
For more information on Peninsula Malaysian Cuisine, click here.

Paddleboat Shuggie

When Ally asked me to hop aboard a Kann family trip to rural Wisconsin, I couldn’t say no. It’s always fun being a part of someone else’s family for a bit, if only for a few days. Given my chaotic, slightly crazy, Vietnamese American upbringing, the Kanns are like exotic birds in my eyes. They go to bed early, wake up early, have extended TV channels, are absolutely insane about Trader Joe’s snacks, prefer brown rice over white, don’t throw parties on the weekends,  the list goes on and on. I suppose it’s a bit strange for me to write about them as if they’re unicorns or aliens, considering the majority of American households are like this, but I can’t help myself sometimes.

On a Thursday morning, I arrived at the Kann residence with backpack and duffel bag in hand. We departed around 11:15 am, picked up Maria from summer school, and hit the road soon after. The majority of our three hour drive was spent staring out the window, talking about college things, eating snacks, and listening to groovy tunes (minus the Watercolors Sirius XM radio station, because I hate it). Y’know, the usual road trip activities.

After passing through a handful of small towns, the geographical center of Wisconsin, and barns with collapsed roofs, we had arrived at our destination. We started things off by stopping at Grandma Kann’s cottage and eating lunch at a nearby bar, owned by the Hotchkiss family. Ally and I played one game of foosball and two games of pool. Foosball was great, but pool was an embarrassing, hot mess. I had never played pool before in my life and Ally had limited experience. Needless to say, we were both terrible at it. But, it was a great learning experience— it just happened to be accompanied by confused old men sitting at a nearby table.

After we were done with our bar stop, we checked into Uncle Bob and Aunt Shelly’s residence, where we would be staying for the next few nights. Once we finished settling in, we went back to the cottage, and proceeded to take a ride in the paddleboat. Later that night, we joined Mama Kann in watching a celebrity scandal TV show, just for kicks. And of course, I learned a great deal about Chris Farley, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and Mickey Rourke in the span of a few hours, and in the most unbiased manner possible. We got back to Uncle Bob and Aunt Shelly’s house soon after our Celebrity Scandal session and spent the rest of the night watching Drake and Josh, Anna and the King, and Family Feud.

The next two days were filled with more relaxation and bumming around. Once again, it was nice being taken away from my usual tight schedule filled with work and errands. I have never watched so much television in my life, nor have I paddleboated so much in my life. Despite the immense relaxation, I was slightly sleep deprived and averaged 4 - 4.5 hours of sleep each night. But it was fun.

On Friday, we went into a nearby city, Marshfield, for brunch. We then went back to the cottage and did some more paddleboating. We paddled around for hours, and boy was it nice and breezy outside. We talked about everything from boy problems to religion and traveling. I don’t remember what we did after that, but I do remember making fried rice, watching Sharknado and Kevin Hart’s I’m a Grown Little Man. We also stuffed our faces with cream cheese pineapple peach salsa, tortilla chips, and banana chips. Good stuff.

Our last full day started off with a delicious pancake, eggs, and bacon breakfast. We sat around, watched a Sandra Bullock movie, and hung around the house until it was time to go to Saturday afternoon church. I almost never go to church, but when I do it’s always with the Kanns. We got to church fifteen minutes early, because that’s how the Kanns roll. I sat there and observed the glass stained windows, the incoming flow of Stratfordians, and the crying baby somewhere in the front. I was a bit anxious before the service because I always stick out like a sore thumb at church. I don’t have anything memorized, I can’t sing the hymns without a book, and I can’t cross myself with confidence.

The man of the hour was an Indian priest named Alphonse. He wore the usual priest attire, was roughly a foot taller than me, and had a thick accent. Usually when I go to church I have a rough idea of what’s going on, but this time I was absolutely confused. There was no program or guide to follow, and no one ever pulled out the hymn books. And I couldn’t even B.S. it and pretend I knew what was going on. But, it was all worth it because I got to shake hands with an Indian priest named Alphonse, like how cool is that?

After church, we went back to the cottage and I experienced my first pontoon ride. It was a very nice, relaxing, and scenic. Shortly after, we did some chalk drawing on the driveway while listening to a world music radio station. Once I had completed my chalky rendition of Starry Night and Ally finished her Pooh bear inspired drawing, we took off in the paddleboat once more.

Watching the sunset on the paddleboat was absolutely satisfying; the golden rays of the sun bounced and reflected on the water until it finally hit behind the clouds. All was going well, until a handful of redneck, tweeny bopping boys decided to moon us on their pontoon. It was immature and laughable that these kids could find satisfaction in flashing a pasty pair of butt flabs to a couple of older girls, but we made it clear that we were indifferent towards them and paddled on. They circled around us and mooned us twice until we finally got out of their sight. I did the proper, adult thing and dedicated a freestyle rap to them (very expletive heavy, but very clever). We got a huge kick out of it and recorded a video of it, with me rapping and Ally doing third-rate beatboxing in the background, just in case I wanted to send it to a record company someday. Once it started to get dark, we went back to shore and Papa Kann drove us back to Uncle Bob and Aunt Shelly’s house. When we got back, we sat in Ally’s room and hung out until 4 in the morning. We had a mini dance party, followed by loads of girl talk.

Four hours later, we got up, packed up our stuff, ate breakfast, and hit the road. We drove to Menomonie to drop off a car for one of Ally’s cousins, who needed a car to drive once she flew in from Seattle (or something like that). We listened to mix CDs and The National on the way there. I learned that in addition to having a Sparta, Wisconsin also has an Athens. And not only are there towns named after Greek city states in Wisconsin, but there is also a Little Cuba, Belgium, and Berlin in Wisconsin. After we dropped off the car, we finally headed home.

Overall, it was a nice trip. I got to experience rural Wisconsin at its finest. I am thankful for the Kann family for taking me away from my busy schedule, even though it was only temporary. This trip not only showed me the joys of pontooning and fancy coasters, but it also deepened my love for white rice, which I had not consumed for four days. Shout out to Father Alphonse for being cool, and shout out to the congregation that sang that one hymn in the wrong key and it was hilarious.

Summer in Rochester: Finding free music on the banks of the Zumbro

Big crowds turn out for Thursdays at First and Third. Photo courtesy Rochester Downtown Alliance.

Alas, my music journalism career has started (sort of). I got a gig writing for the Current's blog as a part of their college contributors program— and I got published just today.

Take a look here.

Canoeing Mishaps, Car Lunch, and Patrick Danz: My Day in Lanesboro

Yesterday morning, around 10:30 am, Alvin and I embarked on a journey to Lanesboro, MN, a charming little town with a population of 734. According to Chad (my Jesus doppleganger coworker), its population nearly doubles during the summer because of all the tourists that come by (it's a popular spot for tubing, canoeing, kayaking, and biking, in addition to being the Bed and Breakfast Capital of Minnesota). It's always fun and relaxing to be in Lanesboro, which is why it's no surprise that it was named one of the best 20 small towns to live in 2014 by Smithsonian Magazine. 

Anyway, the big mission of the day: survive a canoeing adventure. Alvin only went canoeing once before, a long time ago, and I had never gone before. We went to the Little River General Store to check in, met a nice but super buff guy named Caleb at a spot by the river, followed him in our car to an area downstream, left our car there and went in his to go through a trail and to a spot upstream, and then got in our canoe. As I carefully stepped down into the canoe, a giant cloud of gnats engulfed me, and I thought that this might have been a bad idea. 

And it kind of was. We sucked at canoeing. But Alvin was worse than me at it (no offense to him). He wasn't the best paddler (rower?) and tended to over-paddle, which would then lead us to spin around and often run into things. Of course, my inexperience is also to be blamed, but I was the one leading us throughout the whole thing. I admit we got better during the second half of the journey, but it was still a constant struggle. We also brought Arthur, the puppy. He seemed pretty bored and annoyed due to the heat and occasional bumping of the canoe into rocks. By the time we finished, I was extremely relieved. Two hours of canoeing down a river for the first time was a lot more intense than I had imagined. 

I can't trust Alvin to man the boat while I'm taking pictures, because usually he ends up making us go in the wrong direction and/or run into something. Here's an example of something we crashed into.

This is Arthur. He's a miniature poodle puppy. Super cute and fluffy.

Alvin Faisal, Prince of Jakarta, searches the river for any sign of his jeweled crown.

By the time we got to the car, we were extremely sweaty, exhausted, and bug bite-ridden. More importantly, we were hungry. Alvin was kind enough to bring us sandwich supplies and I brought bacon cheeseburger slider flavored potato chips. Because we wanted to stay in an air conditioned area with no bugs and no other place would let us sit around and eat our own food, we decided to eat in the car. We parked in front of a theater, made sandwiches, and indulged in the car's air conditioning. It was an amazing sandwich by the way— Laughing Cow cheese, lettuce, sliced bell peppers, pepper jack cheese, and roast beef on a French baguette. 

After lunch was done, we stopped by the Slant Avenue Mercantile. It's the coolest shop in Lanesboro, no questions asked. The shop carries all sorts of useful things, including potato chip chocolates, cat butt soap, stationary, classic toys, coffee, tea, and cigar box guitars (called Bro-Jo's). It has a warm and welcoming atmosphere, and even better, dogs are allowed. 

This is Patrick. He's not actually as wide as he looks in the picture— he was just standing on a stool and his stretched out shirt and the camera angle made him look wider.

I met Patrick (the head honcho of the Mercantile) during a tenth grade English field trip to the Commonweal Theatre, and have been cool with him since. He is one of the forrealist chillest guys I have ever met. He's got a friendly aura and nice smile, and he's one of those people you just wish made self help tapes because his voice is so relaxing to listen to. He's also one of those people you wish would write an autobiography because he's so cool. From what I gather, he was an actor, lived in Oregon, and knows cool people. I am forever grateful for him, as he introduced me to my idol Lucy Michelle (formerly of the Velvet Lapelles but they changed their name to Field Trip) at a Lanesboro BBQ joint last year.

Patrick and I talked for a while. I told him about the Midwest Argonaut, and he was cool enough to hand me 7 bucks and order a copy (everybody should consider following his example). He told me he was trying to organize a local music and art festival here in Lanesboro sometime in October, and of course I told him to keep me updated and that I would definitely come. I ended up buying some Nag Champa beauty soap and Stay Away From Assholes white tea violet luxury soap from him, as well as a bottle of Wait— was that slutty? hand sanitizer that I got for Dalena. 

After feeling satisfied about my visit to the Mercantile, we left and went out for ice cream. Alvin got a vanilla, pecan, and caramel mix and I got strawberry. It was pretty good, until a random hoard of mosquitoes came out of nowhere and attacked us. We quickly finished our cones and headed to the car.

Overall, I was satisfied with my day in Lanesboro. It could've gone a lot smoother, and I wouldn't have minded not getting bug bites, but I suppose there's no such thing as an adventure without mishap. I conclude this post by suggesting that people visit Lanesboro when they get the chance. It's a real hoot.

To check out the Slant Avenue Mercantile online, click here.

To check out the Little River General Store (where we rented our canoe), click here.