Isn't this just precious?

The penis ashtray!

Available at several stalls in Waikiki, this piece amazed me as much for its lack of reason as for its lack of taste and aesthetics. This was the only stand that dressed its cock ashtrays up in little grass skirts.

Having gotten that out of the way, I’m now going on to a couple of so-called souvenirs that I consider the worst, rather than the tackiest. These are small animals that have been murdered, puffed up, and shellacked for the amusement of ignorant tourists. I don’t give a damn how politically correct I sound–I don’t like this practice AT ALL.

Porcupine fish, lizards, frogs, and pretty much all other animals do not exist solely for our amusement. They’re living critters, and they deserve a modicum of respect. That doesn’t mean I’m a vegan–in fact I’m a devout omnivore. I will kill a fish or an animal or condone the killing of them to feed and clothe myself. And I’ll feel grateful for my place at the top of the food chain that permits me to do this.

Killing little frogs in order to lacquer their bodies and stick them beneath little teeny beer bongs is just horrid. I saw precisely these things in Mexico. Then, in Hawaii, I saw dozens of porcupine fish blown up and shellacked, then used as light fixtures. Or just sold as-is, as cheap souvenirs.

I’d far, far rather take a hike into Mexico’s back country to see the little frogs hopping about or snorkel the reefs of Hawaii in hopes of seeing a porcupine fish swimming about in its native habitat. In fact it’s the place of these unique creatures within their home domains that makes them so special. Dead and shiny in tacky souvenir stalls, they become merely pathetic.

If feeling this way makes me a hippie, well smoke me some granola. And please, think about voting with your wallet and refusing to buy poor little dead animals to commemorate your travels. Get a penis ashtray instead–at least it’s sustainable!

One of the best kept secrets by Bay Area locals, Interstate 280 doubles as a fast commuter road and the most beautiful Interstate in the region. Start by puttering down 19^th Avenue through the City. After you pass San Francisco State University and off the city streets, get your speed on. The speed limit on I280 is 65mph, but you’ll see locals driving much faster .

But don’t jet down the asphalt so fast that you miss the change from cityscape to rolling hills dotted with native oaks, elegant mansions, and the occasional herd of cows. The lovely views continue south until Cupertino, where the suburban industry of the Silicon Valley crowds in on the freeway until it becomes I680 and loops around to Milpitas, becoming less pretty and crammed with commuters.

A few great places to stop include, from north to south (northwest to southeast if you’re using a compass)…read more at Oyster Locals

Fair warning: if you tell me you’re literally going to shoot yourself if you don’t get something you want, be prepared for me to pass you a loaded weapon. Because when you say the word “literally” you mean “truthfully” or perhaps “for real.” As in, if you say that you literally weigh a ton, you mean that the number you see on the scale reads 2000 pounds. Betcha didn’t mean that, did you?

No, you didn’t. What you do mean is “figuratively.” Or perhaps you just want to use a multisyllabic word to emphasize your oh-so-exciting statement and it’s not possible to add six exclamation points to a verbalization without screaming.

Now hear this: WORDS MEAN THINGS. If you don’t know what a word means, don’t repeat it like a retarded parrot because you heard somebody else say it and you thought it sounded cool. Instead, look the word up. Or ask me what it means. Right here on this blog, if you like. I’ll tell you what the word means, and I’ll do it with a shocking level of kindness and respect. There’s no shame in not knowing something you were never taught. Dictionaries are published with the express purpose of helping folks who don’t know what specific words mean. I use them all the time myself.

On the other hand, it is shameful to speak like an ignorant fool. Which you sound like when you say things like “if I have another slice of cake, my stomach is literally going to explode!” (Yup, that’s me easing away from you. I don’t want to get any on me should you literally explode.)

But hey–who am I to judge? (I’m a 14-year professional writer with a degree in English from Stanford.) I’m just so tired of hearing the word “literally” misused by morons. So if you must, can’t you mix it up a little bit? Pick some other words you don’t understand that end in “ly.” Try “If I don’t lose those five pounds I’m going to speciously cut off my ass with a carving knife.” Or perhaps “I’ll dubiously marry you if you just let me cut ahead of you in this Starbucks line!”

But if you ever hear me say “If I hear you use the word literally again I will literally kick your ass,” you might think about sitting down.

I was heartened to read this article on the NYT Travel page about one of my secret favorite SoCal destination: Catalina. Generally I’m not much for family friendly destinations, and I dreaded my visit to Catalina. I expected mixed cheese delite. I got a quaint, pretty surprise. And it’s great to read that the tourism boards are throwing some cash towards a renewal of the hotels and restaurants.

IMHO, the hotels offer a bit more than the NYT describes. Overpriced, sure. But the views from many of them are lovely, and they’re mostly independent and character-rich. But the food stank, and I’m glad that better options are appearing.

For my budget and adventure traveling readers: a low-priced hostel perches near the top of Catalina’s hillside. And a number of kayak-in beachside campgrounds offer privacy for visitors willing to paddle to the remote and undeveloped back side of the island.

Oh, and a fun fact for visitors to SoCal who’ve grown weary of the endless traffic: precious few cars of any kind ply the island’s few roads. To get around for a day of sightseeing, tourists rent electric golf carts and putter around at a pace conducive to relaxation. I just love that.

Sometimes it’s good to be a tourist. former San Francisco Chronicle Travel Editor John Flinn proves this (albeit unintentionally) with his piece extolling the virtues of local Hawaiian cuisine. Which consists primarily of Spam, plate lunches, and holeless donuts.

My grandfather was forcing his entire family to experience Real Local Culture™ in Hawaii before John Flinn scored his first clip. I remember eating a plate lunch as a child, because that’s what Grandpa wanted us to eat. My poor parents had to quell my sobbing and force me to choke down the sugared spam and week-old premade macaroni salad, even as they had to paste on smiles and shovel their own portions past their gritted teeth.

Yes, they pour sugar syrup sauce onto Spam. It’s…something.

As a (gasp and shudder of horror) tourist on an Hawaiian island, I dine often on the freshest caught opakapaka, ono, mahi mahi, and other fabulous fresh fish cooked in dozens of imaginative ways by hard working chefs catering to discriminating palates from around the world. If I “go local,” I get spam, white rice, hamburger patties, and macaroni salad.

Gee, let me think about this for a minute.

Even overlooking the dubious culinary and nutritional quality of the average plate lunch and the ingredients list on a can of Spam, there’s still a problem with the “go local” notion described in Flinn’s article. I can get Spam, white rice, and fried eggs at home. All of these things are in fact available in just about every supermarket in the continental United States. Local Hawaiians eat at McDonald’s a lot too—that doesn’t mean I’m going to line up like a lemming to buy a Big Mac and call it a culinary adventure.

I am fascinated that Flinn somehow managed to miss poi, the horrid purple paste made from taro and foisted off on hapless tourists at countless hotel luaus. An historic food staple of native Hawaiians, the taste of poi helps to make it clear why instant rice and Egg McMuffins became so popular on the islands.

It’s ironic that Flinn slurped up all that Spam, yet he refused to bite into the Maui sweet onion—the only honest-to-goshness unique local food he mentions. Granted, he is right about the farm stand produce in Hawaii—most of it is grown in small local gardens, picked exactly when ripe, and hand-carried to the market stall. But to be honest, the farm stands of Maui look kind of sad compared to the marvelous every-day farmer’s market in downtown Kona on the Big Island, where I purchased my first white pineapple and fell hopelessly in love.

To me, the point of culinary tours and food-based travel is to get the chance to eat things I can’t find at home. Opakapaka (Hawaiian pink snapper), one of my all-time favorite fish, is not sold in my local Lucky’s. I can only get it when I visit the Hawaiian Islands, and if I have to eat in a resort restaurant to find opakapaka, I’ll do it. With (local tropical fruit) relish. Likewise, if a hotel breakfast buffet features white pineapple, I’m going to get me some of that because white pineapple is not exported to California.

Hawaii has amazing local food. You’ve just got to first swallow your pride and become a tourist to find it.

Photo (c) EffingFoodie on flikr

San Francisco isn’t like other cities, and we’re proud of it. We serve up unique food, unbelievable landscapes, and bizarre politics. So why see a plain ol’ show when you can choose an evening of live entertainment to match the inimitable style of the rest of the City?

Beach Blanket Babylon: If I had to pick just one live show to insist a newcomer must see, it would be Beach Blanket Babylon. The famed musical revue has it all—drag acts, dance numbers, drama, comedy, pop culture references, and astonishingly big hats. The ever-evolving BBB never does the same-old-same-old, either. So if you saw it 10 years ago, you’ll see a different show today. The only show to claim naming rights to its own street in San Francisco’s North Beach neighborhood (actually it’s on Green St), grab a room in the Sheraton Fisherman’s Wharf Hotel and head straight down Mason to the show.

Read more at Oyster Locals…

The youthful city of San Francisco is known for its wacky politics, creative spirit, and out-there artistry—the Burning Man festival started on a beach right here in the City. Here are a few museums that capture and display modern art that reflects San Francisco:

San Francisco Museum of Modern Art: Friends and locals call this downtown art museum – with an uptown reputation and collection – the SFMOMA (you’ll see the acronym on signs all over downtown SF). Its galleries full of funky furniture, colorful photos, splashy paintings, and bizarre yet beautiful multimedia installations have been known to delight and occasionally disgust visitors. Whether you love modern art or hate it, the SFMOMA’s collections and exhibitions are always entertaining. SFMOMA lies right in the midst of the Yerba Buena Garden art district, easily accessible from the W San Francisco hotel. 151 Third Street (btwn Mission & Howard)

Read more at Oyster Locals…

The Camel’s Ass by Tim Brookes

Not only is the writing lyrical, the story itself speaks to my heart as a tourist and traveler. More than that, Mr. Brookes speaks the truth. All the oh-so-adventurous (white male American and European) travel writers in the world can’t beat down the reality–a big part of travel is leisure. Luxury. Being treated differently from the locals. Brookes even uses the plague-ridden word “tourist” as though it applies to him–a travel writer.

And that’s okay.

Don’t count on street parking. It’s rare, it’s restricted, and it can require superhuman steep-hill parallel parking skills. The “parking packages” that many hotels boast will keep you from getting towed, but at $30 or more per night, they’re hardly a deal.

Fortunately, these five hotels offer that rarest of amenities—free parking:

Hotel Del Sol: Honoring its history as a 1950s motor lodge, the Del Sol includes a free parking spot with each room. Of course, kids care more about the brightly colored guest rooms and heated pool than the glittering asphalt rectangle. Ironically, the central Marina location makes it possible to walk to Ghirardelli Square, Fort Mason, and the Palace of Fine Arts. 3100 Webster St., Marina/Cow Hollow

Phoenix Hotel: Definitely take advantage of the free parking to include your vehicle in the (relative) safety of this eclectic rocker’s oasis at the edge of the gnarly Tenderloin district. Ask the staff to call you a cab to get you from the hotel door to the secret shows they’ll get you in on, especially if you’re a woman traveling alone. 601 Eddy St., Civic Center/Tenderloin

Read more at Oyster Locals…

Heck, let your actual children come along too! These three San Francisco museums, which range from expensive to free, totally bust the stereotype of museums as dusty and stodgy.

The Exploratorium: Unlike old-school art museums, The Exploratorium not only lets children touch the exhibits, it encourages kids to explore with all their senses. Exhibits on California’s fault lines, how human knees make skateboards change direction, and what the penguins are doing in the Antarctic these days are just some of the draws. The Tactile Dome costs extra, but it’s worth it to take sight out of your picture and feel the world in a totally different way. Take a long walk or a short bus ride to the Exploratorium from the Fairmont Heritage Place, Ghirardelli Square.

Read more at Oyster Locals…