“What’s farmers market like in LA’s hipster mecca?” you might dubiously ask the screen, but un-wrinkle your nose and cast your fears aside – it’s actually pretty great. For one, there is the rare chance to meet our neighbors and the potential for human interaction, which can be a prized commodity in this decidedly pedestrian-unfriendly town. And in addition to rows upon rows of organic produce, candied nuts, fine cheeses and fresh-baked bread there is a whole other section devoted to jewelry, vintage fashions, books, records and trinkets.

So once your [reusable, canvas, possibly Trader Joe's-logo-emblazoned] totes are brimming with things like imported Spanish goat cheese via Christine’s From Spain and seaweed tempeh from Dave’s Gourmet Korean food, refuel with a fresh coconut and walk over to the other side to feed your closet monsters. Unique, hand-made jewelry from Baubles & Beads, wide-brimmed hats, pointy shoes, ironic tees galore, African beads, dresses swirled in technicolor, leaves dipped in precious metals and the occasional pair of leather chaps are sure to sate and mystify into the afternoon.

Silverlake farmers market happens every Tuesday from 2pm to 7:30pm and every Saturday from 9am to 1pm, at Sunset and Maltman.

Words and photos by Zoetica Ebb

Trailer and details follow…

Run For Your Lives allows you to run with a little extra enthusiasm — i.e., you’re being hunted by flesh-hungry zombies who want to devour you, frighteningly set in an environment that recalls the creepiest scenes in Evil Dead, or at least Deliverance. It’s more like an obstacle course, complete with walls to jump over, trees to dodge, and a log cabin…all the while protecting your “health flag.” If you’ve never visited Maryland’s finest city, ‘being in Baltimore’ is usually enough of a reason to be running in fear — but in case you’re not convinced, here’s the official quote from Reed Street Productions, who’s putting on the show:

“We’ve always been huge fans of zombie folklore and wanted to create a live-action experience that provides fans with a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,” said Ryan Hogan, managing member of Reed Street Productions. “For training, we recommend some running, along with in-depth studying of zombie movies — it’s not the fastest who will win, it’s the one that can best out-maneuver his foes.” Obviously they put more work into that than those asshats behind all those terrible Romero film remakes.

Register here. Survive, and get beer! (and food and live music too).

]]> http://www.chinashopmag.com/2011/08/run-from-zombies-in-real-life-the-5-k-zombie-marathon/feed/ 0 http://www.chinashopmag.com/2011/06/10-things-about-vegas-that-dont-totally-suck/ http://www.chinashopmag.com/2011/06/10-things-about-vegas-that-dont-totally-suck/#comments Thu, 30 Jun 2011 17:38:26 +0000 Lisa Johnson http://chinashop.designenginela.com/?p=61760 Continue reading →]]> Have a love/hate relationship with Sin City? I know I do. So this is a list of all the wonderful things that don’t totally suck about Las Vegas.

1. Fremont Street

The Fremont Street Experience is a haven for the vestige of the lusty old Vegas that once lived. It’s a glorious display of neon and hope. Taking a cue from Hollywood Blvd., Fremont Street is littered with “Legends” who mill amongst the tourists, posing for pictures adding to the ambiance. And it’s awesome!

Plus from 8pm until 1am at night, the ceiling lights up for something called “Vista Vision.” Kiss Over Vegas was the soundtrack for our walk. Maybe Fremont Street is so awesome because they’re living like it’s 80′s. All summer long, Nina Blackwood’s Absolutely 80s concerts are keeping it unreal with free concert performances from Loverboy, Wang Chung and Howard Jones. Blackwood was one of the first 5 original VJs when MTV first launched (and played music videos) back in 1981. In fact, August 1 will mark the 30th anniversary of MTV. So let’s party like it’s 1985.

2. Blueberry Hill

Found my thrill, and it is not to be confused with the classic song by Fats Domino or the St. Louis home of Chuck Berry and Rock ‘n Roll. The Las Vegas Blueberry Hill Family Restaurants has been family owned and operated since 1966. Their specialty: Homemade Blueberry Pancakes. Blueberry Hill is more than just a family diner, it’s a way of life. The sound system pumps in Oldies but Goodies like Frankie Ford’s “Sea Cruise,” Clarence “Frogman” Henry’s “Ain’t Got No Home” and Fat’s Domino’s “Blueberry Hill” (did you really think they wouldn’t play that one?!). It’s like if the soundtrack to American Graffiti spawned a utopian society that existed only within its walls.

There’s nothing cool about Blueberry Hill, except that it’s so uncool it’s cool. Which is… totally cool. As evidence when a group of young men, purported to be the eletro rock band The Anix, rolled up for breakfast (in a van shrink wrapped with their logo, so it was easy to figure out who they were). You never know who you’ll meet at Blueberry Hill.

3. G-ma Nancy Hip-Hop Rapper

Somehow, through the magic of Blueberry Hill no doubt, G-ma Nancy appeared. She’s a grandma and she likes to rap. And she has a message, and by golly you’ll listen.

“I do anti-gangster rap,” she explains. Which may or may not explain why she ended up in Vegas. Sharing is caring, so here’s a video of her “It’s Ok To Snitch Rap” from a Target parking lot in Las Vegas.

4. You Can Rent Fat Mike’s Vegas Punk House!

Yes, that’s right: Fat Mike from NOFX has a Vegas Punk House. And you and 9 and of your closest friends can sleep (and party) there. Think B&B for dignified punks, only the beds are bunk beds and other B is Beer.

“It’s my house for adults that live like teenagers,” Fat Mike says on the website. There’s also a salt water pool, a cave grotto hot tub, 9-hole putting green, pinball machine, pool table, and so much more.

http://vegaspunkhouse.com/

5. Endless amounts of Vegas Souvenirs

Kitsch gone wild. And completely irresistible. How many keychain bottle openers/mugs/personalized license plates/shot glasses does one need? A LOT! And The Hip Sack will never go out of fashion as long as Las Vegas makes branded souvenirs.

6. Hidden in Plain Sight: Cool Corner of Awesome

Tucked at the end (or beginning, depending on how you measure) of Fremont Street at 6th is a pretty cool corner. On one corner sits the historic El Cortez. Across the street from there is a rather enticing spot with bright flashing lights called Mamita’s Mexican Cuban Restaurant. The food is as delicious as the decor. And the one laser disc they own plays on repeat tracks like the “Macarena,” “Mambo No. 5″ and Gloria Estefan and the Miami Sound Machine’s “Conga.” We couldn’t eat fast enough to avoid the disc repeating. But the agony made the experience all that more Vegas-y. It just wouldn’t end! And kitty-corner to Mamita’s is the equally enticing Emergency Arts at the Fremont Center which houses the Burlesque Hall Of Fame, and The Beat Coffeehouse And Records. Real Espresso drinks! Real sandwiches with fresh ingrediants! Cool air. Wifi. It’s kind of like home. A saving grace from the hustle and bustle of the slots and tables. And next door is the interesting Insert Coins, a video lounge game bar that looks futuristic. No kiddies! It’s 21 and over. Finally a fun place to play videos games and get plastered besides your parents’ basement! Only bummer is you’d probably have to wear more than your boxer shots.

7. Punk Rock Bowling and Music Festival

It happens once a year, and it’s the best reason to have to go to Las Vegas. What started 13 years ago as a modest bowling tournament for a few punk record labels has exploded into a full-blown weekend of bowling and punk rock. The 12,000 music fans who descend upon the city bounce from club to club for exclusive shows, including reunions from Down By Law and All. All’s set included appearances from all three singers who have fronted the band since its inception. San Francisco’s Swingin’ Utters played the opening night party at Azul Tequila, basked in the glow from the glamourous El Cortez hotel and casino. Catch Swingin’ Utters at Hootenanny 2011 on July 2 in Irvine, California.

www.punkrockbowling.com/

8. Mystic Falls Park

Las Vegas has a plethora of water shows like the Treasure Island pirate show and the Bellagio Fountains. But none can compare to the serene wonder of the Mystic Falls Park show at Sam’s Town. It’s called Sunset Stampede, and with dancing waters, laser lights and a blistering soundtrack of the old west, it is best enjoyed amongst friends. Late at night (the 10pm show is really the best). After a few rounds from the bar.

9. Crashing Pool Parties!

Sneak into the pool at the MGM Grand Hotel to ride the lazy river, or crash a fabulous bash poolside at the Palms or Hard Rock. So it’s always great to find a killer pool party like the one Old Man Markley played at the Gold Spike a few weeks ago.

10. Elvis really IS Everywhere!

He really is! Everywhere you turn, there’s Elvis.

And those 10 things make Vegas not totally suck.

Words and photos by Lisa Johnson

Panicking that I was missing out on the nightlife, I asked around if anything was still happening and received a unanimous response that I should head over to Khaosan Road. Like a careful little tourist, I got specific directions from my hotel concierge and jumped into my cab, prepared to give the driver a play-by-play of how to get from point A to point B. He looked at me with a grin and said “Khaosan Road! Everyone goes there. I don’t need the map” and we were off.

When we arrived, my fears of the city falling asleep at the normal American closing time of 2 a.m. were quickly swept aside. We pulled up to a street with a giant banner that read “Khaosan Songkran Festival 2011” and the party began.

The first order of business was to get some late night grub from a Pad Thai cart that went by – probably the best $1 meal I’ve had in a while. My eyes moved on to a cart full of fried bugs and being the kooky tourist that I am, I had to try one. I decided to forgo the fried scorpion and grasshopper option and selected a good old-fashioned bamboo worm. My 20 baht bought me an entire bag, which really was a bit excessive. After dipping the worm into some mysterious sauce, I shoved it in my mouth and chewed away. The first attempt at video taping this insect eating fiasco resulted in my head being cut off on camera so I was in fact forced, for the sake of my memories, to eat two. Let me just tell you they do not taste like chicken.

We bounced around from bar to bar and made friends with the other crazy tourists on the block. The bootleg merch was something to be admired and I watched as fake ID salesmen worked their magic and “Converse” shoes and “Prada” purses were purchased at a price that was too good to be true. Passing by a store, I noticed a small creature wearing a collar with a bell inside of an upside down laundry basket. Upon closer inspection, it was a tiny squirrel named Tutti. The owner asked if I wanted to hold him and he crawled all over my back before I handed him back, mentally crossing holding a squirrel off of my ever growing to do list.

The streets were filled with music and people spilling out of sidewalk cafes and bars. Thai massages were performed on the street corners and everywhere I looked I was confronted by someone getting a foot rub or smoking a hookah pipe. Artists spread out blankets and sat on the sidewalk to create their masterpieces in front of crowds of admirers. There were break-dancers, children stacking beer bottles in artsy formations for tips, and street dogs wearing I heart Bangkok t-shirts. The evening was full of people watching and dancing and drinking and bartering with vendors (they always sell you things for less – all you have to do is walk away).

Towards the end of the night and just as I was beginning to wonder where all this shady Bangkok business that I kept hearing about was, a man tapped my arm and politely asked if we’d be interested in following him down an alley and taking in a ping pong show. I told him we’d have to pass. We had all the Bangkok that we needed for that particular night but promised if we were ever in the area again to look him up.

Never a dull moment on Khaosan Road.

Words by Nicole Pajer

I recommend starting with a light brunch of crepes in the Luxemburg Garden and indulging in the quintessential French pastime of people-watching. The vast garden, around since the 1600s, is home to several fountains, a multitude of statues, an apple and pear orchard and, of course, thousands of trees. It’s known for its tranquil atmosphere and is a local favorite for strolling, reading, having coffee and enjoying the sprawling greenery.

Then walk down Rue De Seine toward the river. This part of the excursion may take a while – between the art galleries, pastry shops and cafes, temptation lurks at every corner. In situations like this, I find it’s best to just give in, explore, and sample the neighborhood offerings.

When you do, inevitably, end up back at the river, it doesn’t get much easier. Vendors here push everything from Moulin Rouge posters and various knickknacks to rare antique books, and they are many. Wallets beware!

Stop in at the Musee d’Orsey, and walk back across the Seine and through the Tuileries Gardens to Place de la Concorde – the largest square in Paris, where the famous Luxor Obelisk towers still.

From there, it’s a trek along the Champs Elysees. By this point you’re likely overstimulated and too stuffed with dessert to spend more money, but this is a fabulous, famous shopping and culture hub, crowned at the west end with the Arc de Triomphe, no less – impulse might triumph, too.

And what’s better end to the day than a walk to Montmartre through Pigalle, the red light district? A metro ride gets you there right from the Arc.

Dodge catcalls and marvel at storefronts with names like “Sexodrome” and “Pussy’s” and just plain “Sex”, before beginning the climb to the top for dinner and that unforgettable view of the city at night.

Words and photos by Zoetica Ebb

Our final stop in Italy is Florence. The glamorous city is abuzz with tourism and, consequently, commerce in these Spring months.

The famous San Lorenzo leather market is bursting with colorful scarves, leather jackets and bags.

The irresistible scent of bistecca Fiorentina [famous  T-bone steak, roughly 40 EU per two-person portion] wafts through the warm air. Shop windows entice with seemingly endless arrays of fashion and confectionary delights.

Jewelry boutiques along the Ponte Vecchio bridge are crowded by 10am and chains strung by the shores of Arno river are buckling under the weight of shiny new locks – placed here by superstitious lovers hoping to seal their union forever.

Locals look on, or make their way through the wavering tourist mass with expert precision, zipping through on bikes, scooters and on foot, eager to escape the human traffic clogging the city center. The white, green and pink marble of the Duomo, a.k.a the Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore, glistens in the sun and pigeons fight for territory with horses, street artists and electric cars, though no one seems to be gaining the upper hand.

Nearby, the police are preparing to cut down the Arno locks at sundown, to make room for new hope.

Words and photos by Zoetica Ebb

Since then, Pompeii has been compared to Las Vegas because of all the hedonistic amusements discovered within its walls over the past few centuries. Undeniably, the city’s substantial “red light” district – with brothels, erotic [to put it mildly] frescoes and phalluses carved into its cobblestones, as well as sophisticated bath houses [featuring such luxuries like heated floors], certainly paint an image of a pleasure-seeking community. Still, the Christian implication that Pompeii was condemned by god because of its extravagance seem unjust – what’s so wrong with living life to its fullest? Besides a burgeoning sex industry, Pompeii had its share of temples, swimming pools, markets, homes as well as a state of the art aqueduct and an amphitheater – all signs of an advanced community dedicated to making the most out of everyday existence.

Today, about one third of Pompeii is open to the public, and many of its treasures, including the famous plaster casts [remains of the eruption's victims, preserved by means of filling air pockets left by decayed flesh in fossilized ash with plaster], have been moved to the Archaeological Museum of Naples. The surrounding area thrives, naturally, on tourism. Restaurants and a souvenir market encircle the site of what surely was, in its day, the happiest place on earth.

Words and Photos by Zoetica Ebb

You could spend days wandering round the Vatican Museum’s halls, but if you have to pick just a couple, the Gallery of Tapestries is a must-see. Here, floor-to-ceiling textiles come alive with detailed, larger-than-life figures frozen in biblical scenes. Crimson, azure and gilded threads weave together into fairytale motifs, and even the curtained windows [dim light is necessary to protect colors from fading] can’t subdue the opulent glow of these masterpieces.

A visit to the Gallery of Maps is required viewing for any cartophile. Commissioned in 1580, this gallery is completely covered in trompe-d’œil frescos depicting topographical maps of Italy, surrounded by cherubs, sea creatures, ships and other faux reliefs. Each section bursts with color and showcases a district, as well as its most distinguished city.

Saint Peter’s Basilica’s legend suggests that its namesake –saint Peter, one of the Jesus Christ’s twelve apostles– is buried beneath the  foundation. There is some historical evidence to support this, too, though we man never know for certain. Not that it matters all that much – this place is 100% magical regardless of what you choose to believe. Seriously, no number of churches could prepare a visitor for the splendor inside. The Basilica houses Michelangelo’s Pieta, but even this incredible sculpture is dwarfed by the immense power of the architecture surrounding it.

It’s clear that this crowning achievement of Renaissance architecture is meant to invoke absolute awe, and I challenge every one of you not to feel some degree of reverence while inside. You might expect the gold and marble and the cherubs and lions and angles and even the pope sarcophagi, but still, you won’t be ready. The immense statues of perpetually scornful, long-gone popes, the giant letters spelling out your soul’s eternal salvation [alternately, doom] above them, the spears of light piercing consecrated dusk from one of the world’s largest domes are here to make you feel tiny and grateful to be alive, and they will succeed, every time.

And what could be better after having the foundation of your very being shaken, than some light shopping? Vatican’s souvenir stores will outfit you with rosaries [made from and smelling like actual roses] and every manner of pope-related gift you can imagine – all with an optional blessing at no extra charge.

Words and photos by Zoetica Ebb

Ideally, we’d have a minimum of one week to explore this cultural goldmine, but with less than two days at our disposal there’s only time for the essentials. Still, between traversing the Colosseum, the Forum and the Vatican in late spring heat, there is time to soak in the sound of cobblestone streets, the distinct architecture [never enough fountains!], the fashion [popped collars going strong and neon colors blazing], to gorge on legendary gelato and to smile in bewilderment while stumbling upon yet another excavation site between a trattoria and an overpass – centuries exposed and peeled away right there in the midst of modern life.

Later: an evening walk through the center, just before we’re shooed away by the Polizia shutting down St. Peter’s square for the night. Eventually it takes us to the world-famous Trevi fountain (remember this scene in La Dolce Vita?), surrounded by dozens of wine-swigging youths – laughing, kissing, smoking and dodging moderately shady types offering to take pictures for a small fee. It’s around 11pm, and historical monuments for miles around are still annexed with teenagers and the like. A savvy gelato shop owner keeps his shop open into the night hours, and we duck in for a few more scoops of magic.

Words and photos by Zoetica Ebb

It’s Spring near Easter weekend, and the area surrounding the enormous Colosseum amphitheater crawls with thousands of sweating tourists, as well as horse-drawn carriages, vendors and leisurely, heavy-set gladiators – dressed in plastic armor and charging a hefty €4 per photo. Walking through the vaulted corridors and up the stairs leading to the tiered interior, it’s difficult to anticipate the scope of what’s about to unfold: this place is enormous. The wooden floors of the arena and long-decayed and the exposed hypogeum – the vast basement where caged animals and gladiators were held before battles – sparks the imagination. Despite the centuries of damage and decay, this place is hardly a ruin.

From there, it’s a short walk to the Forum – once the bustling core of governmental and cultural activity, now a majestic, sprawling marble skeleton of columns and half-crumbled figurines. This was the world’s most esteemed meeting place, with tribunals, temples, shrines, the Senate and hundreds of statues scattered across or near the rectangular plaza. To begin to grasp what the Forum was, check out this incredible digital reconstruction by CVRLab. You can explore over twenty features and it’s pretty darn neat.

The Sistine Chapel, where I’m too awestricken to attempt sneaking photos, is next, followed by a visit to Piazza Navona. This square is renowned for its three Baroque fountains, one of which made for a surreal backdrop to a group of overheating break dancers, bustin’ moves for cash. Fontana del Moro’s tritons and dolphin overlook the scene from one end, while Neptune is locked in fierce battle with an octopus at the other, surrounded by sea horses and sea cherubs, none of whom seem to mind the weather. In the center, four river gods cluster around an obelisk in Bernini’s Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi. There is also an art bazaar, with the customary spread of saccharine charcoal and pastel portraitists, en plein air painters and caricaturists. The star of all that street entertainment, though, is an old man, lip-synching with all his might over an old Italian opera.

Words and photos by Zoetica Ebb