I’ve got way too many projects in the air. I just finished updating InsiderFood with many new resources. I also did some updating on InsiderArts and began working on InsiderWine.

I’ve got a big project to do with YQL that I keep putting off and I still need to work on my photography.

So what do I do instead? I started yet another blog: Fondooo.com. It’s a kitchen gadget site that was inspired by the recent work of my co-worker James. He just started WorkStyled, a blog about stylish work spaces.

The hardest part of building a site these days is coming up with the domain name. The concept was easy, WordPress and Woo themes made the design a piece of cake. No, it took me much longer to come up with a domain name. I chose fondooo (note the three o’s) because everyone has had a fondue pot at some point in their lives. It’s the ultimate kitchen gadget.

So take a trip down kitchen gadget lane on fondooo.com. It’s just another in my range of food sites:

• Search Engines
  • InsiderFood local food search engine
  • V3GGIE Vegetarian Search Engine
  • TARTIN3 French cuisine search engine
• Blogs
  • Paris Vegetarian
  • Bay Area Vegetarian
  • Fromage Blog
  • Yet Another Meal

Now, if only I could find a few more hours to update the other dozen projects.

I’ve logged a lot of miles in the past year and the last few months have been overwhelmingly busy as I prepare to leave Paris to live in the Bay Area again. My first year in Paris saw little European travel, so I had to make up for it in the last year. I’ve been capturing them in photographs and can go back in time via Flickr. Here’s a list of cities and areas my poor tired feet have visited

• Amiens, France
• Amsterdam, Holland
• Athens, Greece
• Belfast, Northern Ireland
• Bordeaux, France
• Bucharest, Romania
• Budapest, Hungary
• Brugges, Belgium
• Brussels, Belgium
• Chartre, France
• Chateau Thierry, France
• Dijon, France
• Evian, France
• Greek Islands
• Geneva, Switzerland
• Gruyere, Switzerland
• Istanbul, Turkey
• Le Mans, France
• London, UK
• Madrid, Spain
• Mont St. Michel, France
• Prague, Czech Republic
• Reykjavik, Iceland
• Rennes, France
• San Diego, USA
• San Francisco Bay Area, USA
• Seattle and Pugent Bay Area, USA
• Iceland’s krona proves the magic wand as Europe ails (telegraph.co.uk)
• International Real Estate: For Sale In … Iceland (nytimes.com)

Iceland and Istanbul were two areas at the top of my list. Fortunately I was able to visit them and they exceeded my expectations.

Iceland

I visited Iceland in the middle of January, shortly after the economy took a major dive and the government officials decided to quit. I was a bit worried about what the country would be like, so like a good Parisian I packed some extra cheese and Poilane bread.

Iceland is an amazing country. I remember in elementary school learning about this island with the deceitful name. Oh those tricky vikings who mixed up Greenland and Iceland to keep visitors on their toes…

I didn’t walk around Iceland as much as I fell on my ass and subsequently dragged myself to a pseudo-standing position. I’m a city boy and my idea of snow/ice shoes are not recommended for a country covered in frozen water. Luckily I was able to soak my tired bones and bruised butt in their local swimming pools and the bizarre, yet relaxing Blue Lagoon. Soaking in an outdoor hot springs with cold mud on your face while the outside temperature is -3 degrees Celsius is something you need to experience to understand.

Do yourself a favor and purchase some music by Sigur Ros before heading to Iceland. There’s nothing like flying through the clouds and onto the island while listening to their music. In fact, I listen to Sigur Ros almost every time I fly.

I’d love to visit Iceland again. I will visit Iceland again! Iceland Air offers free layovers when you fly to Europe. This allows you to stop for a day in Reykjavik and visit the Blue Lagoon before heading to Europe and back.

Istanbul

There was an exhibition of Turkish artwork at the San Diego Museum of Art while I worked there. I can’t say this is what planted the seed to visit this country. I think it also was the compounding interest from everyone that has spoken about its mysteriousness.

Most of the areas I have visited are primarily Christian, the exception being Bangalore, India. Istanbul was the first Islamic country that I’ve been in and the vibe is definitely different. I am agnostic, so I have no preference for one religion over another. In fact, I’ve probably been in more religious buildings of various faiths than anyone I know (except Philippe). That being said, I had a great interest in learning about the Mosques and Islamic culture of Turkey. I also wanted to see the ancient mosaics within Hagia Sophia.

There are several things that stand out in Istanbul.

The prayer calls that punctuate the day become a rythm that you miss as soon as you leave the country.

The Turkish people are extremely friendly and outgoing. It’s actually a bit unsettling at first, as you may think everyone is out to scam you. At some point you accept the people truly are friendly and go with the flow.

I was perhaps a bit too trusting while in Istanbul, but it led to some great experiences. The first night I was standing near the Hagia Sophia and was approached by a local man who I expected was a scam artist. But I accepted his offer of a quick tour and he showed me around the area, the Blue Mosque, the columns, and Hagia Sophia. Yes, he did end up asking me if I was interested in buying a carpet, but he was ready to accept no as an answer. I enjoyed the tour and followed him to his favorite rug store.

The rug store assigned the art historian to me and we looked at about 50 carpets for well over an hour as we discussed color, history, symbolism, the construction process, and much more. I told them I was not interested in buying but would love to learn about the rugs as a work of art.

Needless to say, I bought a rug that day. It’s truly special and not something I would have ever found outside Istanbul. It’s a nomadic carpet that features the village the weaver grew up in. They say it was made by a single woman for her dowry, whether that is true or not I don’t care. It’s a beautiful rug and I’ll enjoy it for many years. It cost about $3,000.

The next day, after a long afternoon of walking, I met another man who wanted to introduce me to a rug store. I told him I had just bought one and wasn’t interested. I was, however, interested in finding a hamam to experience the true Turkish massage. I’d walked past a couple tourist joints but wanted to visit a place for locals.

He offered to take me to one if I purchased his entry as well. That seemed fair enough so we hopped in his car and headed to a small working-class neighborhood near the river. He told the hamam owner to give me the works and it did not disappoint. At some points I thought the guy was gonna leave permanent damage, but it was all worth it. The massage is given while you are laying on a warm marble slab. He uses soapy water instead of oil or powder. In the end you skin is squeaky clean and your body feels amazingly revitalized. The total cost for both of us was about 100 Euros.

I also got a tour of the city by one of my former Yahoo! co-workers. We visited Taksim square and toured the vibrant nightlife areas of Istanbul. There’s a great tower that you can visit to see the area. It’s where the first man flew, as he glided from the tower to the riverside below.

Finally, I met one other Turkish man that showed me several parts of the city, including Pierre Loti hill and the important mosque and graveyard at the base. I highly recommend visiting this area and reading the stories by Pierre Loti, a french author that fell in love with the city and its people.

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• Dreaming of Istanbul (travelblissful.com)
• Top Ten European Cities (isparisexpensive.com)
• Iceland’s krona proves the magic wand as Europe ails (telegraph.co.uk)
• International Real Estate: For Sale In … Iceland (nytimes.com)

I got his address in prison from a serial killer art show and we wrote to each other for several years. I’d send him paper, pens, a few bucks and he’d reply with letters transcribed by the guy next to him or short notes he wrote himself. I also got a bunch of drawings from him.

I asked him right from the start about Adam Walsh, a young boy many thought he had murdered. He responded that he did not have anything to do with Adam. He wrote this:

Ted, I’ve killed a lot, true! But never a child! I gain no strength from a child’s death, I gain no knowledge from killing a child! This is why I’ve never killed children. My grandmother was a witch and she taught me this.
Ottis Toole letter from prison discussing Adam Walsh, June 15, 1995

Here’s a photograph of the letter on Flickr.

Ottis admitted to tons of other things, so I just assumed he was saying the truth about Adam. Why deny one thing when you admit to a thousand other things. Well, it was Ottis, why should I be surprised.

The Walsh Murder Solved

The Florida police are now closing the case with new evidence that proves Ottis was guilty. It’s too late to do anything, as Ottis died in prison years ago. It’s closure for the family and one less mystery in the world.

By the way, I got rid of all my Ottis letters and drawings. I have archived them on Flickr: Drawings by Ottis Toole. You can also try to read the letters.

I did save one, a portrait of my friend Heidi, that I keep on my desk at work.

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• Police finally solve 1981 murder of Adam Walsh
• Police: ’81 killing of Adam Walsh solved
• Police solve murder that launched ‘America’s Most Wanted’
• Cops: 1981 Adam Walsh Murder Solved
• Police: Drifter killed Adam Walsh in 1981
• Suspect named in ’81 Adam Walsh slaying

Rep. Thelma Drake late Thursday night conceded the election for the 2nd Congressional District to political newcomer Glenn Nye after a bitterly fought race.

With a small number of absentee ballots still being counted, Republican Drake released a statement saying some voters waited in line for hours and many troops serving overseas, including Iraq and Afghanistan, sent absentee ballots.

“Those ballots have been counted and the voters have decided,” she said, congratulating Democrat Nye.
Daily Kos

I search for my name all the time. Not because I’m self-centered, far from it! Not that I’m less than spectacular…

I search for my name when testing search engines and the latest startup concepts. I know what is a decent result (anything that features myself prominently).

No, I’m just tired of articles for Thelma and her gun club popping up in “Ted Drake” search results. It’s a small, but annoying thorn in my side. Hopefully in a few years these results will disappear and I can bask in the glory of an all-Ted result page.

It’s a good thing I am so modest.

I’ve started yet another web site. Somebody stop the madness!

I’ve uploaded 5,000 photographs to my Flickr account. Almost half of those photos were shot in Paris, France. Hidden amongst the snap shots and bad food photos are some really good photographs.

MyParisPhotos.com is my new web site. It’s a photo blog that lets me highlight individual images. I’m still working on some formatting stuff, but it’s ready to be seen.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like this flight has been bad. There are no singing nuns, deadly snakes, or poisonous entrees. No, this flight has been filled with those little experiences that make me say to the little gremlin on the wing: “Did that just happen?”

Setting the stage

The flight started off fairly normal. I’ve got a great seat, 32G – a bulkhead aisle seat. The seat next to me is empty and a lady with her toddler sits on the other side of the vacancy. On the other side of the aisle are a couple of elderly women. One of them is frail, the other is quite sprite. Directly behind me is a French couple taking self portraits while strapped into the seats.

The rest of the plane seems to be comprised of inbred American teenagers on at school trip to Paris. No, seriously, they all have this common pie shaped, dough colored look. There is a really ugly set of patriarchs somewhere in California.

Oh, my seat is also a mere 4 feet from the restrooms/self-service area. I’ve got a steady stream of traffic to the right of me.

Hello Mr. open fly

I was treated to several visits from Mr. open fly. We’re not talking simply unzipped. I think this guy thought he was in an adult bookstore and was letting people sample the wares. He paraded up and down the aisles with the fly well open.

It reminded me of a little kid I went to  elementary school with. One day he wore overalls to school with no drawers. He delighted in letting the other kids check the contents of his pockets, hint hint, nudge nudge.

Naturally, I didn’t tell Mr. open fly that the corral was open and the horse was ready to escape. Why spoil such pregnant expectations?

The community television screen

I don’t know how we survived without individual television screens on airplanes. God bless jet blue for introducing the masses to such luxuries. Now we can fly blissfully around the world without having to share the joys of Everyone Loves Raymond with a planeful of idiots that actually think its funny.

No, we now have the ability to watch our own selection of movies, tv shows, and other special visual treats. It’s even possible to spend 9 hours watching movies without seeing Owen Wilson’s stupid nose, a “cutting” sitcom with laugh tracks galore, or the standard educational documentary featuring animals tearing each other to pieces.

No, that’s what the community screens are for. Scattered around the plane are little televisions displaying safety messages, animated stewardesses serving scalding hot coffee, maps of the world with the progress of our plane, and a disturbing collection of entertainment. I hadn’t really noticed these television’s content until this flight.

If it bleeds, it leads

I haven’t been watching the screens consistently. I’ve been trying to watch movies on my little personal slice of video heaven. Once in a while, my eye will be distracted by something twittering on the community screen, which sits about 4 feet away, next to the toddler’s suspended bassinet.

Piglets photo by ynskjen on Flickr

The first scene that grabbed my attention was a group of playful piglets trying to jump out of their pen. The pens looked like an farm from an old vampire film: dark shadows, low angle, carefully placed detritus, and a sanitary suspense. Ah look at the cute piggies.

Bam, cut to a butcher’s knife chopping through some anonymous chunk of animal corpse. One second cute piglet, next second a farmers market and dinner for some family.

This documentary then cuts to a pleasant Asian women talking to to the camera. There’s no sound, so she could be discussing the future of world peace in Africa, the art of Owen Wilson films, or the joy of slaughtering piglets. Frankly, I am assuming it is the latter. We continue to watch more scenes from Chinese markets as mysterious chunks of creatures are pulled out of woks, women plucking birds, and dogs running around scavenging for snacks and litter mates, sometimes both at the same time.

Keep in mind this is displayed on banks of televisions scattered around the plane. It’s also on some kind of demented loop. I’ve caught this documentary several times.

The broadcast hits keep on rolling

There was one particular stretch of joyous images that occurred during our meal time. Which reminds me of a particular Thanksgiving memory at the Drake house. We were gathered around the table waiting to dive into the feast.

Naturally the television was  on and for some reason it was tuned to a surgery channel instead of the normal Three’s Company marathon. Just as the food was starting to be dished out, a doctor cut open a tumorous organ and a gallon of black bile poured onto the surgical table. Yum, pass the gravy.

So, while I’m diving into my vegetarian in fight meal, the community televisions start displaying a series of bloody images. Tibetans were getting slaughtered, cartoon detectives were shooting bad guys, piglets turned into meat chunks, and the toddler next to me is making his toy ambulance crash into his toy cement mixer. “Would you like some bread with your meal?” You betcha!

The long trip to powder the nose

The frail older lady next to me needed to powder her nose a couple hours ago. This procedure involved several people as we jockeyed positions to make sure she had a clear shot to the bulkhead. Her companion assisted her. Just as she finally gets out of her seat and is heading towards the powder room, passengers from the forward section jump into the toilets and she’s forced to wait for an opening. One of the stewardesses assisted her to the premium lounges. She made it back in good shape and is now sleeping soundly.

And then Little Betty died

Little Betty is the name of my new laptop; a tiny toy of a thing made by Asus. Unfortunately, the battery died mid flight and I wasn’t able to finish documenting this flight. There were several inbred teenagers that liked to hangout at the free sodas in front of my seat. I could describe them for hours. Alas, my post-flight haze is kicking in and they’ll have to escape the brutal knife of my razor sharp wit.

Toronto is a big city, and when I say big, I mean big stuff. Things are spread out, a city block is probably two city blocks in San Francisco. There are big trashcans on the street (that separate recyclables and trash), a big phallic symbol, big signs in the subway, very big drag queen hair, and the list goes on.

There’s one thing here that’s no longer big: the American dollar. That damn bush has even killed our dollar against the Canadians! I have visited Canada several times over the past 20 years and it’s always been a shopper’s paradise. But noooooo, now the stuff costs the same as the US. What’s the fun in that.

I haven’t taken very many photos of Toronto. It’s not very photographic for me. That’s not to say there aren’t interesting things, the interesting things happen too quickly and you’d miss them with a camera in your face. The people are interesting, especially in the Village. It’s much more fun to sit back with a coffee, tea, or something and enjoy the atmosphere.

I visited with everyone’s favorite gay vegan Cannuck accessibility guru: Joe Clark. I’ve experienced the city via his photos on flickr and his many blog posts about the trials and tribulations of a Toronto life. I always enjoy seeing a new city with a local friend when I travel. Joe’s journey was quite the jaunt.

We talked about homosexualist web developers and the lack thereof, politics local and global, cars, music, and other butch things. Unfortunately, we didn’t get a chance to see the storied Leslieville or the infamous street-trashcan-furniture pieces. We did see some great examples of signage gone bad in the subway.

There’s a great farmer’s market in Toronto. It’s been around longer than California. Well, at least the Americanized California. I’ve tromped my ass through those stalls looking for some delights. The food was unfortunately only mediocre and the coffee even worse. However, I did find a European/Ukranian stall that made an amazing roasted eggplant with mayonaise, tomatoe, and cheese. I know, it sounds like a train wreck but it was delish!

I’d love to buy some of the local cheeses, berries, and such. But they won’t make it through customs without me throwing a hissy fit, and I’m just not in the mood to ruin my makeup.

Today’s my last day here. It’s time to pack up the old suitcase and head off to the airport soon. Don’t worry Toronto, I’ll be back again. I missed Niagara Falls this time, so save some water for me.

How simply dull and predictable.

Then the song “negative queen” comes on my iPod and fills my Bose noise reduction earphones with tales of negative queens that dismiss those around them. And for a split second I thought… have I become a negative queen?!?

Naw, that’s crazy talk. The other passengers are idiots.

No, not me.

So you can me giggling like a pre-teen in Munich seeing fahrting signs everywhere. Those Germans need to stop eating all that boiled cabbage and hard-boiled eggs!

Digital cameras have a sensor that is smaller than your typical 35mm film area. This makes your lens behave differently. My wide-angle 24 becomes a mediocre lens. My lensbaby becomes a telephoto lensbaby. My telephoto becomes an oh-my-gawd telephoto. This doesn’t work for me. When I look at the world, I know how it’s going to appear via my different lenses. I purchased the d70 and returned it because I hated the lens behaviors.

So I’m waiting for Nikon to develop an affordable digital camera that has a sensor the same size as 35mm film. Give me my lenses back. That’s all I ask. Canon has it, it’s time for Nikon. Perhaps this is the one. Perhaps my excuse for sticking to my precious film is coming to an end. I still love film. But digital can also be fun.

Agfa Scala is not dead

Speaking of film, if you are an Agfa Scala fan, there is still hope. Agfa is gone. But Main Photo in Los Angeles still has a huge inventory and they are still processing this incredible film. I just bought four rolls and had two processed. The images are fabu and I can’t wait to scan them.