San Francisco, As Always

There's almost nothing left for me to write about San Francisco. I've written love letter upon love letter to that city. I continue to return again and again. This trip was right on the heels of a trip to Japan and planned that way. I certainly have used and do use travel in a deeply psychological way; I'll keep that for my therapist. I am also the person who will use any excuse to travel. Halloween in San Francisco seemed like a good enough, though entirely ridiculous, reason to go. I have developed a pattern in San Francisco, so everything seems incredibly easy.

I flew out on Halloween morning and spent the day walking around, taking photos, and eating. Upon landing at 9:00 AM PST, I went to Sightglass Coffee to catch up on some work. Then, I walked through Chinatown and North Beach to Coit Tower. Coit Tower is one of the only memories I have of my first visit in 2003. For whatever reason, I visit this landmark every time. Honestly, and simply, the view is excellent. After, I walked down to Tony's Pizza Napoletana; this pizza had been on my "pizza list" for a decade. It was early afternoon, and there were spots at the bar. I ate a whole margarita pizza myself. Again, Neapolitan pizza isn't my thing, and this wasn't one of the best I've ever had.

Another route I have is the walk from my hotel near Alamo Square down into the Mission. My travel partner joined me the following morning, so we met at Tartine Manufactory for breakfast. Amazing as always. There wasn't anything on at SFMOMA that I wanted to see, so we went to the Fraenkel Gallery, the SF Leica store (which had a great photography exhibit), and the photo gallery at the Academy of Art University. Afterward, we walked through Chinatown to The Coffee Movement (excellent) and stopped at Vesuvio for a drink. Afterwards, we had tickets for Pier 24 Photography. This was the museum's last show before closing its doors. The exhibit, "Turning the Page," was on the "photobook" and wasn't what I had expected. I imagined the exhibit would be about the process of making/editing a photobook, but it was simply an exhibit of random photographers who have recent photobooks. Yet, I'm glad I was able to visit one last time.

The following morning, we discovered pastries at a bakery that will stay with me for a while: Loquat—absurdly good, flaky pâtisserie of all kinds. We returned the following day as well. After one coffee, we went for another at Saint Frank Coffee. This coffee shop had been on my list for a long time, but it is in a part of the city I don't typically explore. They also had fantastic coffee; a "competition cappuccino" was notable and a unique offering.

Then, we had a perfectly lovely walk down to Fort Mason and the marina. It was a Saturday in San Francisco; the skies were blue, and everything felt okay. We ended up at the Palace of Fine Arts. I hadn't been there before, but it was an architecturally meaningful visit for me; Bernard Maybeck, the architect, was a mentor to one of the people I researched, architect Julia Morgan (most known for Hearst Castle). Originally completed in 1915 for the Panama–Pacific International Exposition and rebuilt in the 1960/70s, the faux-Roman/Greek ruins are so incredibly out of multiple time periods that I have to love its very existence.

After miles of walking, we somehow ended up at Verve Coffee on the way to the Mission. We also made a stop for cocktails at Elixir. Then, we made an unconventional decision to see Anora at Alamo Drafthouse. Going to the movies on vacation may be a new, totally achievable thing I've always wanted to do. I hadn't seen a film in a packed theater since Oppenheimer, and it was the precise communal viewing experience I wanted. We all laughed together at the correct places. The movie is fantastic, and it certainly felt that way in that theater.

The following day, after another stop at Loquat, we made my pilgrimage to the Sutro Baths. It was relatively busy on a Sunday, but the sun was out, and the waves were huge. I'm always trying to re-experience my first visit's misty, foggy weather. We decided to walk through the Presidio until we no longer felt like walking. This took us down to Seal Rocks Beach, which I hadn't been to before, and to the end of Lands End Trail. This Sunday "hike" in San Francisco let me deeply feel the differences in the landscapes and cities I've been to and lived in. We are not the same. Next, we took a self-driving Waymo (only available in SanFran, LA, and Phoenix) to Toronado. I adore this beer bar, and it's a required part of my SanFran itinerary.

Before the redeye back to Philly, we stopped for beers at Zeitgeist and then finished with a dinner at a restaurant I have long revered but never visited: Zuni Café. I'd had a solo reservation before but canceled. Yes, I'm entirely willing to order their signature dish, a whole chicken for two people, on my own, but my trip last fall wasn't the time. This was the time. And every dish was as perfect as I had imagined for the previous ten years.

The quick trip was everything I wanted. It was the pre-election, last-days-in-paradise-trip I needed: an absurd, brief visit to one of the most expensive cities in the US. The notion that the election was only a few days away was nowhere to be found in this blue city. It felt like the last moments of true freedom of mind, and, ultimately, it was just that.

Fall Break in Japan

I visited Japan in 2018. It was a wonderful, busy trip. We went to Tokyo, Hakone, Hiroshima, Osaka, Kyoto, and Naoshima. I planned that trip with almost no room for error or downtime. During the pandemic, I made a few vows about things to do when it was over. Returning to Japan was one of them. Japan reopened to tourism in November 2022. Just about two years later, I made a return trip. But, this time, I wanted a more "relaxed" trip and more time in Kyoto.

Luckily, my travel partner had already been to Japan as well. We felt like we could relax and made the trip simple: three days in Tokyo, four in Kyoto, and two more in Tokyo, which turned into an unexpected three. I wanted to minimize travel days. While trains in Japan are excellent, I've come to value full days in a location. On my last trip to Japan, while it was longer, there were too many days of maneuvering transportation, and my obsession (and anxiety) with precise planning went to an extreme.

We landed in the afternoon, checked into our hotel in Shinjuku, and made it out to dinner for the best ramen of the trip at Menya Sho Honten. We wandered around Golden Gai but didn't have the energy for much more.

The first full day overlapped with a coincidence I was most excited about: seeing my favorite (living) photographer, Alec Soth, give an artist talk at the Tokyo Photographic Art Museum. I knew he had a retrospective opening that weekend, but luckily, he was also in town for the talk. The first 200 people in line before the museum opened received tickets to the afternoon talk. After lining up about 45 minutes before opening, we were tickets 173 and 174. If we had missed the subway or slept in a bit longer, we would have missed it. Things felt meant to be. High on espresso and jet lag, I was delighted.

We went through the exhibition, "A Room of Rooms," and then went to lunch. I had wanted to return to a pizza place, Seirinkan, that I had visited on the first trip. From the museum, it was a nice walk through the quiet neighborhood of Nakameguro. After excellent Neopolitan pizza, we went back for the artist talk. While the jet lag hit hard in the afternoon, and there was extra time for translating, I was so excited to hear Alec talk. He's as humble as he seems in everything I've listened to, watched, and read by him.

We finished an ambitious day with a sunset ticket for Shibuya Sky. It's basically a ready-made selfie and photoshoot location. I had read that it was worth visiting at sunset. While I do not like touristy stuff, I do enjoy the touristy, high-up viewing spots. This stems from my love of maps. I can see the city's layout from above, recognize the landmarks, and discern a sense of geography and proximity. The sunset was clear enough, and the people-watching was excellent.

After a quick nap, we ate late-night sushi and stopped at an organic wine bar, Pitou, in Golden Gai. We had found the wine bar the night before, and luckily, there were two seats left at this ten-seat bar. Classic rock was playing; it was intimate, dark, and one of the trip's most memorable moments. While I barely drink anymore, sitting in a dimly-lit, cozy bar with good music and conversation will always be appealing.

On Sunday, we wandered around Ginza to explore random and specific department stores. I stayed in Ginza on the first trip and remembered it as the shopping district without much character. This was still the case, but some streets were open to pedestrians, and observing a Sunday in Tokyo was interesting. After stopping in a few shops, we found a ramen place and returned to the hotel.

Monday morning, we took the Shinkansen to Kyoto. I was most looking forward to Kyoto. I felt photographically stuck in Tokyo but knew I'd find what I wanted in Kyoto. The city is slower and has a more local feeling.

On the first day, we spent a while wandering around Kyoto Station. The station's architecture is futuristic (completed in 1997), and I'm obsessed with the adjacent Kyoto Tower (1964). Yes, the mid-century towers are space age, but they are also so obviously masculine. After photographing around the station, we rented e-bikes and picked one temple to visit: Kiyomizu-dera. I visited many temples on the first trip and didn't want to spend the whole time in the unavoidable crowds of tourists. My friend's family is from Kyoto, so I asked if she had a favorite temple. She recommended Kiyomizu-dera, and we biked up the hill to the temple. It was the most crowded moment of the trip, but it was fun. We took photos, had green tea/black sesame swirl ice cream, and left within an hour.

After, we biked miles north to the Kyoto Botanical Gardens. The architecture of the greenhouse conservatory (1992) is gorgeous and aging in the most perfect way. Next to the gardens is the Garden of Fine Arts, Kyoto, a Tadao Ando-designed outdoor art museum with waterfalls. The Japanese architect created the space for outdoor viewing of eight masterpieces reproduced on porcelain panels. Then we stopped at Circus Coffee roaster and a random donut shop (donuts became the surprising obsession on the trip) and biked back to the hotel through quiet neighborhoods. For dinner, we went to an izakaya and then a few bars.

The next day, we quickly walked through an empty shrine and a random flea market on the way to Kyoto City KYOCERA Museum of Art. A very trippy exhibit, "Gucci Cosmos," was on view. After, we stopped at a lovely coffee shop with the best donuts of the trip. I spent a few hours working in the evening, and then we walked through Nishiki Market for dinner.

On the last day in Kyoto, we took the subway north and walked back to the train station through Pontochō alley. Some of the best advice for visiting Japan is to go out early before the crowds; well, really, that advice holds for any trip. We took the Shinkansen back to Tokyo for what we thought would be two more nights. We stayed an extra night after our first flight was delayed, and it made more sense to return a day late. After returning from Kyoto, we took the subway to Shimokitazawa, a younger, LGBTQ-friendly neighborhood with second-hand stores. One of the most fascinating things was how these second-hand stores are filled with American clothing from the 1990s.

We spent the first two nights in Shibuya, and the highlight for me was JBS Jazz Blues Soul Bar, a tiny vinyl-listening bar near Shibuya Crossing. The owner/bartender/DJ is in his late 60s and routinely tells customers how annoying they are. To one member of a group of Australian tourists, he said, "You talk loud but say nothing." The man replied, "Thank you for your opinion." With brevity and clarity, the owner's words really did mean more than all the words the tourist had spoken in the last hour. We spent a while there listening to jazz and 90s hip-hop.

The next day, we visited the Museum of Contemporary Art. The museum had a massive exhibit on, "A Personal View of Japanese Contemporary Art: Takahashi Ryutaro Collection." It was the largest single exhibit I've ever seen; one person's collection was fascinating. I left wondering how one stores such a diverse and, literally, giant collection. Afterward, we walked through Kiba Park and found a traditional kissaten, complete with indoor smoking. We wrote postcards and had cocktails and coffee.

On the bonus day, we stopped at Shibuya Food Show for pastries, went to the Mori Art Museum for a Louise Bourgeois show, and switched hotels in the Ueno neighborhood. In Ueno we went to the food market, Ameyoko, which is unlike the enclosed markets. This one is on the street and felt more like being in an episode of a Bourdain show: makeshift tables, fewer tourists, handwritten menus, the sound of the elevated train tracks nearby. It seemed more working-class and authentic. The kushiyaki was amazing; we ordered lots of meats on a stick (I was not vegetarian for the trip). After, we walked through Akihabara; the various "maid cafe" solicitations seemed more concerning this trip.

Before the airport, on the last day, we went to the Oedo Antique Market, which happens once or twice a month on a Sunday. I thrift at home but have never been terribly successful abroad. This trip was different; I was excited to find a few Japanese mid-century-modern items in Tokyo and at the flea market in Kyoto.

Overall, Japan was, again, everything. As someone who loves "order" and quiet, I appreciated Japan differently this time. The subways and trains are packed but quiet. There are crowds, but lines and paths and clarity. Japan has changed slightly since 2018; most places now accept credit cards, and there seems to be an even more significant push for control. For example, smoking (and drinking) on the street is "banned" in Shibuya, but there are areas for smokers to stand together behind plastic walls. Also, there were signs all over Shibuya indicating that Halloween celebrations were banned (apparently, the ban on Halloween began in 2023); it felt similar to Miami Beach trying to crack down on Spring Break last year. I wonder if the extended pandemic closure allowed the government to enact and enforce new rules before tourism resumed.

When I returned home, I immediately started thinking about a third visit. I know it will happen; after all, anything can happen, and my desire for travel knows no bounds.

Joshua Tree and Los Angeles

With a nine-month job, I'm left with quite a bit of time. While I have the summer technically "off," it's not my favorite time to visit crowded places. I'm the tourist who wants to avoid being with other tourists, as if that were possible. My fall and spring breaks are the best for off-season travel. But, this past summer was different from other summers. I had goals to relax and recover from the culmination of a many-year effort at something big. I tried to relax. I failed. I worked my second, third, and fourth jobs. At one point, I stopped hanging out with everyone and instituted "Quiet in July." That extended to August and into this very hot vacation in the desert.

I love California. I've written this so many times that it feels ridiculous to restate. I enjoy so many different parts of California, and I've been to most regions (a few key spots remain and are on the list for 2025). I'm unsure if it's an unpopular East Coast opinion, but I like Los Angeles. Yes, visiting is different than living, but the light, the trees, the space, the options. Since I grew up in the suburbs, I don't mind the car/driving stuff. Having lived in Philadelphia, I get the "I don't leave my neighborhood" concept. Maybe it's my tendency toward seasonal depression, but forty northeast winters are enough for one person. At some point, it'll really be enough.

As the summer went on, I realized I needed to go somewhere else to relax. It wasn't happening at home. I had wanted to revisit LA since the pandemic, and I wanted to be in the desert. So, Joshua Tree. While I'd been to Joshua Tree three times before, I was eager to spend more time near the park and explore it on multiple days. We figured out a ten-day combination of LA and Joshua Tree, complete with an Airbnb with a pool. I would have no choice but to relax.

The trip started with a long day in LA. At some point in the planning, we realized that the Phillies played at the Dodgers on the first day of the trip. I had started a pinhole project on the Phillies and wanted to explore other stadiums for the project. We landed early, went to the Boy and the Bear Coffee Roastery, and then walked Venice Beach for photography and people-watching. I had a different summer-long photo project on beach towns, so I wanted to stop in Venice for a few reasons. We had beers at a bar on the "boardwalk," took photos of skateboarders, and went to Pizzeria Sei. I continue to try the best pizza places; it was solid, not the best I've ever had for Neopolitan style, but good. Then we drove to Dodger Stadium.

I'd heard the rumors about Dodgers fans: they don't care, show up late, and certainly aren't like Philly Sports Fans. Somewhat hilarious to me, we hit 45 minutes of traffic going to the game, but within a mile of the stadium, there was no traffic. No one was driving to the game an hour before start time. We parked and were first approached by someone else from Philadelphia asking us about parking. It was funny and fitting to hear the Philly accent out there.

I wanted time to walk around the stadium and check out the angles, but our first stop on the top deck was excellent. The light and the view were LA-perfect. We stayed up there until sunset and then walked around the lower levels. Only the daughter of a football coach would want to see and evaluate a stadium. I've been to many stadiums. I have opinions. Dodgers Stadium is one of the original concrete monsters; while Citizens Bank Park is a fantastic venue, I still miss the Vet. Dodgers felt a bit like the Vet, but with the renovations, it felt pastiche, a mix of old and new. You only get the feeling that it seats 56,000 people when you're in the outfield looking towards the upper decks. While it was nice to see the Phillies somewhere else, they lost, and we had to drive to Joshua Tree after the game. We made it by midnight and checked in. Even at night, it was very warm.

I knew it would be hot in the desert in August. I did not know there would be a heat wave and 110 during the day. I've practiced hot yoga for fifteen years. I've taught four ninety-minute classes in one day. I've taken six classes in one day. But, 105 and east-coast humidity is not 110 in the desert. Humans are not made for 110. By midday, it becomes too hot to be outside or have the energy to do anything. In a way, the heat forced me to relax and slow down. It felt amazing.

We went into the park on four different days. The light was different on each visit, and we picked our favorite spots for sunset. We hiked a bit but kept it very reasonable, given the heat. We also took a day trip to Salton Sea and Palm Springs. I've been to both before, but seeing how much the Salton Sea had receded since my last trip in 2019 was interesting. It's still a weird, weird art place. We also stopped by the Noah Purifoy Outdoor Desert Art Museum. There's a reason the desert is good for art.

Foodwise, I didn't have high hopes, but was pleasantly surprised. We found excellent food at Kitchen in the Desert, a fun dive bar (Out There Bar) in 29 Palms, had BBQ and saw live music at Pappy and Harriet's in Pioneertown, and had an awesome breakfast at Crossroads Cafe. Also, Joshua Tree Coffee Company is solid.

We spent the last night in LA. I don't exactly know why, but I develop things I must revisit in certain places. I have pilgrimages in San Francisco. I have spots in LA. The Comedy Store is one of them. After drinks at the Snake Pit, we spent a few hours in the Main Room. Then, we went back to our Airbnb in Laurel Canyon. We had a few hours before the flight the following day and grabbed coffee at Go Get Em Tiger in Larchmont.

Overall, the trip was what I needed. Sunny. Blue skies. Far away. Desert-y. A mix of adventure and photography. I finally relaxed. Just two days before the back-to-school meetings began.

Texas Eclipse Trip

I'd been thinking about the April 2024 eclipse since the eclipse in August 2017. I knew I wanted to see it, but I wasn't sure how hard I wanted to try. For about a year, I decided on Texas instead of driving to Erie or Burlington. But I knew there was a good chance I wouldn't feel like booking a flight to San Antonio and would end up in VT. A few months before the eclipse, I brought up the event with a photographer friend, and he was into the Texas idea. He had wanted to revisit Big Bend National Park, and I had wanted to see the park since my first trip to Marfa in 2016. So, we plotted a drive from San Antonio to Terlingua, to somewhere near the path of totality the night before, and then back to San Antonio.

We landed early in San Antonio, rented a car, and drove 6 hours and 45 minutes west to Terlingua. Looking at sunset times, we knew we'd arrive at the off-grid AirBnb right at sunset, with a stop for groceries and lunch. The day was ambitious, but we were up for it. Yet, something must be said for a destination two flights and a drive over 3.5 hours away (within the US). That's a serious effort. I realized this after traveling to Marfa, once from El Paso and the second time from Midland. There's "rural" America, and there's remote America. Terlingua is just outside Big Bend: a tiny, dusty, dark-sky territory town with lots of open space.

My friend planned three diverse, easy-to-moderate hikes in Big Bend: The Lost Mine Trail, Window Trail, and Santa Elena Canyon Trail. The last hike was in the Rio Grande, and we technically ate lunch in Mexico. After the hikes, we explored around Terlingua and took more photos. I'm glad I could visit Big Bend with someone who had been there before: it's massive, a little intimidating, and very dry. And, having been to a few National Parks at this point, it's certainly a unique, out-of-the-way one. If I lived in Texas, I would visit often.

The day before the eclipse, we drove to Big Lake, Texas. Because of the eclipse and generally being the middle-of-nowhere-West-Texas, it was hard to find a place to stay. I knew Big Lake would likely be full of oil rigs, pickups, tankers trucks, and smell like fracking. The hotel was built to accommodate long-term-stay workers. For some reason, the industry and the support network that has grown up around it fascinates me; the landscape is irreparably damaged, and one day, the boom towns will be deserted relics of poor environmental decision-making.

On the morning of the eclipse, we drove to a town with a 3:5-scale Stonehenge replica. While we were looking at the path of totality a few months earlier, I saw this place on Google Maps. Instantly, we agreed that was the spot. When we arrived, we found a $100-per-ticket eclipse festival around Stonehenge and a dam nearby. We staked out territory on the dam for later and then crashed the festival. I had yet to learn that eclipses have a fanbase. The people who follow and travel for eclipses are an adorable mix of friendly and quirky people. We took photos of the crowd and chatted about cameras, previous eclipse experiences, and plans for the next one. Eventually, a lovely family offered my friend extra tickets so we could stay inside the festival area.

But we wanted to be around fewer people, and I really liked the idea of being near water for the eclipse. Last October, I was in the path of totality in Florence, OR, but it was cloudy. Yet, I felt something while standing in the Pacific Ocean during totality. I wanted to be able to touch water this time, too. The day was cloudy, and it turned out that Burlington would have a clearer view than Texas. But my eclipse attitude was, "You get what you get, and you don't get upset." Luckily, we saw the first half and 4 minutes and 25 seconds of totality, and then it completely clouded over. The experience was like a drug, and I understand why people follow that feeling. I wept. We all wept.

Then, we quickly packed up, hit more traffic than I anticipated returning to San Antonio (only an hour away), and realized we wouldn't make our flight back. I'd never missed a flight, but I'd also never seen a total solar eclipse. Everything is give and take. So, another night in Texas and a flight the following day. It was all worth it: the drives, the missed flight, the photos, the feelings. How many eclipses might one see in a lifetime?

Spring Break in Oaxaca

The idea of visiting Oaxaca began in 2006. I worked with someone who lived there as an expat; he couldn't stop talking about the wonders of Oaxaca. By the 2010s, it felt like every millennial I knew had visited. However, other places were on my travel list, including Mexico City in 2017. Finally, years later, Oaxaca seemed like the perfect spot for Spring Break—highs in the 80s, no humidity. The city is an indigenous cultural heritage site and (accurately) very friendly to tourists. So, Oaxaca.

I conducted endless research on this relatively small city. Modern Airbnbs abound, and everyone has restaurant recommendations. While there's no Uber, taxis are everywhere. There are a limited number of day trip options. Regarding my planning obsession, it was a relatively straightforward trip. We picked a centrally-located Airbnb with a plunge pool for the warm afternoons, made a few dinner reservations, and chose two Airbnb experiences beyond the city limits. The rest of the time was spent walking the streets and taking photos.

Culinary-wise, I wasn't up for the street food, but the two main markets are fun to explore. For nicer dinners, we went to Criollo, Las Quince Letras Restaurante, and Origen. While everything was good enough, these meals didn't live up to my memories of the food in Mexico City. Only Boulenc was truly memorable. We had breakfast on the first day and returned for dinner on the last night. Their pastries were perfect, and honestly, so were their pizza and pastas. Everything was worth whatever kind of wait there might be to get in.

In the "drinking" categories, the coffee shop scene is notably strong in Oaxaca. Marito & Moglie Café, Muss Café, and Kiyo Café were excellent. Mezcal is a whole thing in the region; I highly recommend Mescalería in Situ for mezcal tasting. We went early in the afternoon before anyone else arrived. Otherwise, after the uninspiring multi-course-tasting-menu meals, we looked for more casual bar spots with good food: Sabina Sabe was excellent for cocktails and solid bar food. Also, we found a brewery that wasn't bad (for beer) and had great cocktails and food: La Santísima Flor de Lúpulo.

To break up the time in the city, we planned two Airbnb Experiences. First, we went to Hierve El Agua, a petrified waterfall a few hours outside Oaxaca; the day included a stop for breakfast at home in the mountains, a tour of a family-run textile/weaving workshop, and a tour/tasting at a mezcal distillery. The other experience was a Oaxacan "cooking class" at a home in the more agricultural part of the Valley. I tried to pick up a few things as we made salsa, mole, and tortillas from scratch. I had always worried that these "experiences" were awkward (and tours don't fit my personality), but the hosts knew their target millennial audience; the days were easy and fun.

Photographically, I have never been to a friendlier place for street photography. I'm still working out my thoughts on street photography; I continually analyze these photographic interactions, attentive to power dynamics related to race, class, and gender (and in Oaxaca, through the lens of colonization). While everyone seemed to be understanding and would invite the photos to be taken, I can't know what they were really thinking. But their reactions helped me feel like it was okay. I did my best, was respectful, and enjoyed walking the streets for hours.

The most fascinating part of the trip was March 8th; International Women's Day (always March 8th) overlapped with Oaxaca's festival of the Good Samaritan (celebrated on the fourth Friday of Lent). The day prior, we noticed businesses boarding up their windows and churches installing wooden fences around the buildings. Generally, I was concerned. I couldn't find anything about it on Reddit. We spoke to someone in Spanish and thought she said it was a teachers' protest. That seemed okay.

During the afternoon, as a part of the Good Samaritan celebration, there was a ceremony in the central district, and businesses offered free water to everyone in honor of the biblical story from the Gospel of Luke. During the day, it was a celebration of flowers and sharing, and then, sometime after, there was the International Women's Day march. We visited the zócalo after dark and the following morning. Marchers tore down the barricades around the churches and spray-painted the stone buildings. In the morning, a crew of all men began cleanup work to remove the fencing. Much of the graffiti content targeted the church and pedophiles, naming names. The connection between the events was hard to miss; the juxtaposition was one of my most culturally fascinating, first-hand experiences.

Overall, I'd recommend a visit. Despite the protest, Oaxaca was the most amiable city I've visited outside the US. Things can happen anywhere. I wanted an easy trip after having a pretty unfriendly time in Paris and Amsterdam last spring break. Either way, escaping the northeast winter to be warm in Mexico certainly felt like "Spring Break."