best in show

NEW YORK, Dec 29 -- Certainly has been an interesting year, a year in which Life In Gotham became Life in Anywhere-But. So then, for the traditional year end, Best Of whiz-bang, what to review? Certainly, anywhere but Here.

Out of a strong desire to become intimately familiar with the country in which we do live, I found excuses to pass over the international lifestyle that most travel writers crave, concentrating almost exclusively on exploration within the glorious confines of North America.

What I had hoped I’d discover – and did – was a wealth of peoples and cultures and diversity behind the veneer of WalMart and Starbucks, McDonalds and Burger Kings. If you think about it – from darkest Alabama, to silliest California, from stuffy Connecticut to free-wheeling, coffee-swilling Anchorage – to say that sameness curses the land is to ignore reality. In truth, these fifty states are more like fifty small countries masquerading as a unified nation.

There's a big wide world out there -- Eat it up.

most compelling city (over 1 million)
Where in this fair country can one find a city that even comes close to ours that merits visiting, revisiting and then planning to spend more and more time there, as often as one can possibly manage? Let us now praise Los Angeles (pop. 3,550,000), of course. The City of Angels, in all that it is, shall never, ever be confused with uninteresting. The possibilities for exploration are endless, particularly outside of the white and well-met gated West Side. From East LA bursting with energy, to the jazz clubs and silent suffering of South Central, Venice Beach and suburban hell in Northridge and Van Nuys, to the 400 sq foot homes crowding together atop the hills, Griffith Observatory and Mount Hollywood climbed in the morning hours, towering above Hillhurst Avenue mellow-hipsterism. We have Boomtown Koreatown, Grand Central Market, Union Station and the Pantry for pancakes downtown, USC and all that great architecture and ghost filled art-deco apartments on Franklin Avenue in Hollywood – you have the nerve to be bored? Snap out of it!

most compelling city (under 1 million)
(tie) They couldn’t be any more different, but both are equally wonderful, for so many different reasons. Seattle (pop. 520,000) earns top honors because of its supreme livability and truly away-from-it-all sort of atmosphere. When you are in Seattle, it is as if nowhere else matters, as if everywhere but there is far too complicated, takes too much energy to deal with. Even with the traffic and the influx of the hated Californians, this city still has so very far to fall before it becomes as complex and stress-inducing as say, oh, anywhere else in the United States? And the coffee is only the beginning of it. A urban landscape dominated by nature – snow capped peaks of Rainier, Mt Baker and the Olympics, Douglas Firs everywhere, hills to rival San Francisco’s and the best public market anywhere, lakes and floating bridges and kayaking on Lake Union – there’s so little not to love, it’s hard to imagine how those who visit can stay away once they’ve discovered it. Detroit (pop. 990,000) is probably the last place you’d want to live, but as far as cities go, it’s a) the best kept secret in the country, and b) the most beautiful reminder of a glorious history. Rising and falling on the futures of the automotive industry, glorious Detroit was laid out in the grandest of styles, it’s streets named Gratiot and Woodward and Grand River and its architecture a wonder from start to the very finish. The Michigan Central Station, the Cadillac Hotel, the Fox Theatre, plus the unsung buildings everywhere you look along the spokes of the downtown half-circle – even if the people have gone, the spirits that haunt the city are friendly, and draw you in to their confidence as you stroll through the ruins. Belle Isle was once the grandest of urban parks. Detroit can make you cry or laugh, or both, depending how you’re looking at it. If you have an eye for the unseen and find beauty in places other than obvious, this is your city. And hey, lofts are going for relatively cheap. Nice ones, within walking distance from bakeries and coffee houses and bars and the food co-op. Don’t say you weren’t told.

best small town
There’s another tie here, but while on the face of things, the two contenders might appear completely different, underneath, they’re pretty much of one mind. Woodstock, NY (pop. 1870) and Santa Cruz, CA (pop. 51,115) both move at a completely different speed than the regions that surround them – Woodstock is unfortunately placed next door to New York state’s most down in the mouth little city, Kingston. Santa Cruz is unfortunately placed over a mountain from the world’s most worthless excuse for a city of 880,000, San Jose. Woodstock benefits happily from the county’s doldrums economy, with the only limitations being a shortage of housing to rent, even for cheap. The housing shortage in Santa Cruz is as acute, with one level ranch homes bringing in half a mil or more, traffic to beat the band and send you flying into a rage or over the Route 17 barrier into oncoming traffic, whichever happens first. But everything that people flock to both towns to indulge in happily remains intact, and mostly immune from whatever tourists or newbie millionaires bring to the party. Woodstock was an artists colony long before it ever gained notoriety, and continues to be excellent as such, Santa Cruz is politically active and largely liberal (with a major religious streak), but boasts some of the best downtown diversions for a city its size in all of the United States. Few pleasures are as fine as a sunny Sunday afternoon strolling the Pacific Avenue strip. Begin with brunch at Zachary’s, lunch on Italian heroes at Zoccoli’s, sip Jamba Juice and shop for books at the Bookshop Santa Cruz. Don’t you dare step into Borders – strictly for pig capitalist outsiders only. Same goes for Starbucks. Any self-respecting tourist will head straight past it, into Santa Cruz Coffee Roasters for a cup of the drip-blend, the only appropriate choice on this stretch clogged with coffee bars. Woodstock, in tune with the mountains and with music and art, offers a less sunny but no less engaging atmosphere. Drop in on Bread Alone with it’s warm, mom’s-kitchen vibe and request a 60 cent toasted buttered Peasant Bread roll and a $1 cup of strong coffee and sit in the back with your copy of the Woodstock Times. This is living, even if you’re not made of money.

three most useful states in the Union
It’s all rather subjective, what constitutes usefulness. But I’ll think you’ll agree, that interesting and unique are far more attractive than comfortable and boring. This is not to imply that the quality of life is always what you’d run there for, but as far as visiting, these gems can make you proud to be an American. For me, coming home from all three and being able to say, God – that’s my country too – now there you have yourself a sealed deal. One might be more obvious, others not so much, but hey, that’s the point. Washington is the final choice for number one, and although there are a handful of places I have yet to see, I can’t imagine any knocking the state of apples, of good wine and great coffee, mountains, trees and healthy environments, volcanoes and earthquakes, rainforests and snowcaps (enough, enough!) out of first place. You have Seattle (see above), the Olympic peaks, thousands of people living on islands, desert, a town named Walla Walla, the Snoqualmie Valley home of Twin Peaks and truly a magical place, plus the people, most of whom truly know how to live life. They say the rain makes you stupid, but conversely, it also keeps you relaxed. Which, in this day and age, isn’t exactly an all-American quality. Check in at one of the tiny hotels in Seattle, stroll the market and curl up with a latte. This should be – but sadly, isn’t yet – the American way. And if you get tired of that, head to Alki for the coolest beach north of Los Angeles, or to Snoqualmie Pass for a little skiing, or to the Yakima Valley for a little sun and some wine tasting – admittedly, not much else – we can go on, on, and on. But we won’t.

Michigan is a less obvious choice for those who aren’t familiar with it, which seems to be a good chunk of the national population. For starters, there’s Detroit (see above) but beyond that insanely interesting black-hole metropolis (five million people and do we ever hear about it?) is the gigantic state itself, with Ann Arbor, the Lake Michigan shore towns and all that good stuff, best of which would have to be the Upper Peninsula, one of the most economically depressed, and therefore, largely untouched regions east of the Mississippi. When you get here, you see why it is what it is – so very far away from anywhere, and anything, that it’s not a matter of what will or won’t be, it’s just that nobody can be bothered to try and get up there, unless you come from Chicago, or Detroit. It’s got it’s own culture, Yooper culture, which is a lot like what you saw in Fargo only even more so. Cornish pasties are the regional dish – cardboard warmed over – and the apple fritters are a dream, especially with a cup of coffee from the café in the double-wide with blue siding and frilly lace curtains out on the highway between Ironwood and Wakefield. The Lake Superior shores are stunning, the mountain hiking modest yet secluded – there’s Isle Royale National Park (the least visited) and Mackinac Island (would you stop visiting already) and a host of small depressed towns that in a way, aren’t as depressed as they are moving at their own speed. Make your way to the local VFW for the Friday Fish Fry (calling ye Catholics), put your $4 on the table and have you a mess of fish and chips that will put you in the finest of moods. Stop in at the St. Vincent DePaul store for a fifties wardrobe you’ll pay $10 for, visit the town tanning beds to regain the color you lost when you last saw the sun somewhere much further south, and chat with the people who live there. And if you’re so inclined, plunk down your $200 and you’ve got yourself a summer home. Or something like that. Just don’t try and get there fast – it’s quicker to fly to Canada and drive back than it is to approach it from the U.S. side. That’s what makes it great.

I’m quite sure that if at least ten more people would move there, I might feel a little better about living there myself. But with approximately six people within an area practically half the size of the United States, Alaska can get plenty lonely. However, that’s every reason to escape to it every now and then. There are so many secrets to it, one quickly realizes how little it really has to do with the rest of the country – except for seniors on glacial cruises and German backpackers in Denali, the majority of the state is for those who live there. As it should be. What’s most thrilling is how very American it feels, and as you tune into CNN on your little Bering Sea island gnawing dried salmon dipped in seal oil, there’s a certain rush to be felt. You’re practically in Russia, and still, Bernard Shaw is there, sucking, on the television set. You’re hours from Japan, and everyone’s drinking Michelob in the island tavern. Or Anchorage, with a finely developed sense of taste in microbrews, cool museums and an incredibly high awareness of what good coffee truly, truly is. Were it elsewhere, with shorter winters, the good people that roast it might not have as much time to work on perfecting it (there’d be daylight to leave the house by) but it’s Alaska’s little secret, and now you’re in on it – the coffee here beats Seattle roundly and soundly. Kaladi Brothers, Café Del Mundo, Raven’s Brew in Ketchikan and Mill Bay in Kodiak – plus others I never made it to – taste it, and be ruined for ever. Or the Pipeline Stout at the Moose’s Tooth in Midtown Anchorage. More fun than a keg of Guinness, guaranteed. See, you just don’t know, because it’s so damn far away. But if you’re ever there, you must must try. And most of all, Alaskans – Lord love ‘em – are ballsier and more independent than just about anyone anywhere. You’d have to be, to be crazy enough to spend your winters there. But in the summer, when there’s no night, shit, do they know how to live it up. Check it out sometime. Oh, and all that natural beauty stuff. That’s just deal sweetener.

best urban comeback
Few cities possess the energy to rise up as quickly as Chicago forced itself to in the past three years -- State Street is a shining example of this. Formerly a gray and foreboding pedestrian mall between Wacker and Congress, it deteriorated over time, driving people with money away, and upscale retailers, who mostly prefer to stay away rather than embrace a less moneyed clientele lost faith and turned elsewhere. And as the years went by, it got even worse, with little more than Walgreens, McDonalds and Payless Shoes surviving along with the world-class Palmer House Hilton, and the stately Marshall Fields and Carson Pirie Scott flagships, true national retail icons. The loop became less of a destination for serious shoppers, and that was the end of that. All of a sudden, city fathers decided they’d had enough. The new flagship library opened to beautiful effect in early 1995, all gargoyle-y and beautiful and in the memory of the late-great Harold Washington, the subway stations were revamped and in went old-fashioned street lamps and signs. Then Robert Morris College, a local 2-year, moved their flagship campus directly opposite the library. The pedestrian mall was slowly torn out, the dollar stores began to disappear and building fronts were revamped. The Oriental Theatre opened around the corner on Randolph, on one of the ugliest Loop blocks ever – and what followed was a deluge of retail and reconstruction, a boutique hotel, Old Navy, Borders and all the simple pleasures that turn middle-market shoppers on. While Michigan Avenue just two blocks over (and up across the river) went up, up and further up, the good Chicagoans finally had a shopping street they could actually use. Just next door, the Goodman Theatre opened it’s new home, with other theatre projects following. Yes, yes -- “that great street” for sure.

biggest, ugliest mess(over 1 million)
When you hear about what it once was, it makes sense to be dissatisfied with the present incarnation of the Bay Area. Following similarly the total decimation of Manhattan’s cutting edge and creative community, slowly but surely, every corner within fifty miles of the Coit Tower is becoming overpriced, overrun and subsequently, now way overrated. What’s the point of paying an arm and a leg to live in a neighborhood you can’t even take a train to (within San Francisco city limits), mind you. Sure, Sausalito and Mill Valley, you can see that being pricey, but God – Fremont? Even with the recent dot-com boom that everyone not involved with prayed for an end to finally did, things seem to be completely out of hand, and the stories of municipal workers sleeping on buses and eating at soup kitchens haven’t gone away or become the past at all. The reality of it is, it’s a beautiful area, far more than most cities could ever hope for. But when places like groovy, tiny Bolinas and ugly suburbs like Sunnyvale are both out of the price range of those making less than a hundred thou a year, its’ bad news. Even in Berkeley – who wants to pay $1000/mo for a studio? It’s the East Bay, for crying out loud. Thousands, now relegated to Newark, Vallejo and Pittsburg, are waiting for the day to come when they’ll get their revenge and finally be able to afford that crappy 1 bedroom hut in San Bruno next to the gas station and under the flight-path of a thousand jets. Now that’s living, folks.

best neighborhood, eastern division
Perhaps this should be named, Best Surprise to the Jaded Traveler instead, but however you slice it, the Ghent neighborhood in tiny Norfolk, Virginia beats almost all others on the east coast out, out, completely out because of it’s excellence while in complete obscurity. You’d expect to find something of it’s kind in Washington D.C. (think a laid-back Dupont Circle or Georgetown), Baltimore or Boston, god-forbid Philadelphia or even New York. Nah – scratch that. New York could never stay this great and still be accessible. Grand old homes lined up along quiet streets, plus churches and temples and planned garden avenues (Stockley) and a super cool main street (Colley Avenue) lined with cafés and lunch counters and bars and an art film house, galleries and general all-around neighborhood gathering places, plus the Mowbray Arch, a sweeping, half-circle street facing an inlet of the Elizabeth River, designed to reflect the European lined-up-along-the-canal sort of feel. The Chrysler Museum of Art is on it’s fringes, a beautiful building in it’s own right, and the re-vamped and re-opened for business downtown is a footbridge and a stroll through historic cobbled streets away. The sense of community is fierce, and while this back-from-the-dead quarter of a back-from-the-dead city is overwhelmingly welcoming and physically attractive, it remains entirely affordable if you’re coming from anywhere up north -- good things really do happen in the South.

best neighborhood, central division
To say that I favor Chicago’s Wicker Park above many other fine Midwestern neighborhoods (Lyndale Avenue in Minneapolis, Downtown Duluth, State Street, Madison, the list goes on) is being a little too generous. Since a greedy landlord forced the city’s best coffee house (Urbis Orbis) out of it’s spacious, gracious home on North Avenue a few years ago, the area never seemed quite as attractive. But meanwhile, as North Avenue gets trendier and spendier, Division Street just south and a little further west, is better than ever. Where in 1995 a series of boarded up bodegas and nail parlors hid behind iron gates next to the supremely ugly St Mary’s hospital, now a series of bright little restaurants and cafes and sushi joints and bike outfitters and useless but cool storefronts congregate next to the still supremely ugly but no longer sad St. Mary’s hospital. Just steps east of the giant metal Puerto Rican flag signaling the gateway to Humboldt Park is one of the coolest spots anywhere in the United States, where people know each other and rents are still affordable, and it feels all so very small town, yet in the shadow of the center city. They don’t make neighborhoods as hip as this yet as laid back anywhere but in the Midwest, reason enough to brave winter weather to get here, especially if for a bowl of soul-rebuilding chili at Leo’s Lunchroom or a chocolate tart and an espresso tasted on the plush couches in the back room at Letizia’s a few blocks down.

best neighborhood, southern division
A German neighborhood in a almost Mexican city located in the United States – that statement right there is almost more than enough of a qualifier, but the architecture behind the trees along the avenues of this Grande dame of Texas neighborhoods and the growing scene along South Alamo just adjacent propels the King William district of San Antonio far beyond requirements for best neighborhood. If you lived here, you’d be home, but you’d also be supremely lucky. Espuma is the coolest café in town, and the sopa azteca at El Mirador on St. Mary’s will send you nearly to heaven and at least half way back. Add to that the Blue Star complex with the brewpub and art exhibits and working studios, the flour mill across the way, the river trail too – here you’ve got yourself a damn fine neighborhood, and not just for Texas, neither.

best neighborhood, western division
It’s two neighborhoods, really, neither interchangeable, however with a fuzzy line of demarcation somewhere in between Vermont and Hillhurst Avenues. We speak of Los Feliz and Silver Lake, standing simply and quietly in the shadow of the Griffith Park mountains, just north of the delightful milieu that comprises the largest Downtown that nobody seems to want, just east of the ill-fated Rampart district, the epicenter of the internal earthquake shredding the LAPD beyond repair. And of course, what would a Los Angeles neighborhood be if a freeway didn’t run through it? Actually, for the sake of clarity, I-5 comprises the eastern border. Across the treacherous traffic lanes lies madness, or Glendale, depending on you want to look at it. Vermont Avenue is decidedly Los Feliz (inexplicably pronounced Los Feeliz), trendy shops and frightening little bookstores, the House of Pies (will it survive?) and Fred 62, the most obnoxious diner in the universe, serving $8 mac and cheese and expensive salads with an overpriced attitude. But the sight of people strolling along the way and the excellent bookstore with the tree growing in the middle, plus a very un-west-side vibe (for now) make it a must-do pitstop on your way to Silver Lake, which is entirely different, splashed out over bumpy little hills, hills teeming with different cultures and the endless Sunset Boulevard colorfulness, winding past dollar stores and Cuban coffee joints and unaffected diners and pancake places, antiques and lots of lots of color. On quiet Rowena is the Coffee Table, the perfect way to start the day, and up the hill is more cool stuff, along Silver Lake Boulevard. Sitting on a peaceful weekday morning, outside the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf on Hillhurst, staring into the sun reflecting mercilessly off the cars parked in the supermarket lot next to you, you can imagine what Los Angeles could be – livable – and you can also imagine yourself almost tolerating Southern California, if you could live in Silver Lake. At least I can.

Email: davidr@lifeingotham.com