Viva Las Vegas

I walked out of Philadelphia's Market Street East station at 6.30 in the morning. I was tired, hungover, hungry and, given the fact that I had spent the previous 9 days in the desert, cold. I emerged from the escalator into that gloomy grey-blueish light that they use in movies to show that the day is about to start.  I had been to Philadelphia the year before so I knew my way around. I knew where the good bars were, where to get the best cheese steak and where to watch the day's NFL games. But what good is that knowledge at 6.30 on a Sunday morning when everything is still closed and the only other people out and about are the guys that clean the vomit and empty bottles off the street after Saturday's festivities and a couple of homeless people who were up early?
Come to think of it, how did I end up on the empty streets of Philadelphia at this time of day anyway?



Rewind about 7 months to my living room in Dublin, where I was sitting on the couch, poring over a map of the world and a note pad, trying to make an important decision.
As most of you will know, I keep a list of all the bars I visit. When I reach a landmark total, I mark the occasion by going to a special bar.  For number 500, I went to the Green Arms hotel in Sydney. I celebrated number 666 at the Jeckyll&Hyde pub in Edinburgh and for number 750 I visited the legendary Matt Molloy in Westport, Ireland. I had ticked off number 900 the previous December and I was now faced with the task of deciding on number 1000. I was going over my map now, trying to figure out where to go. 

My flatmate Renae had just announced that she would be returning home to Australia after 11 years abroad, so I briefly considered going back to Australia and picking a cool bar there, possibly a bar in Cairns with the awesome name The Woolshed. However, a trip to Australia brings along a couple of logistic issues, not in the least the fact that it's not really worth going for less than 3 weeks and I probably couldn't get that much time off work in one go. New York came to mind more or less instantly, as it always does when I have to decide on something cool to do. But New York has the nasty habit to shut down bars that I have declared awesome, and that wasn’t going to happen again. I entertained the idea of going to visit my cousin in New Zealand. He and his wife moved there in the same month that I moved to Ireland, and I hadn’t seen them in 7 years. They were expecting their first child and I figured I could go  and pick a bar there, possibly the legendary Cardrona Hotel on the South Island. In the end, I discarded the idea for roughly the same reasons as Australia. 

San Francisco? Mexico? I just couldn’t come up with a conclusive suggestion. 

                                              Afghanistan perhaps?

While I was still trying to come up with a good idea, my cable box informed me that it was nearly time for CSI, the only tv program I watch regularly that isn't sports or broadcast on Comedy Central. Annoyed with my inability to make this crucial decision, I put my map down, walked to the kitchen to get a beer and sat down for an hour of crime solving. The episode of CSI started with an aerial view of the Las Vegas strip, with the Stratosphere tower prominently in view, followed by a shot of the giant pyramid next to the Luxor casino. While I saw these famous buildings, I thought to myself that Vegas would be an awesome pl...

VEGAS!

Ofcourse! Why hadn't I thought of this before? It would have to be Las Vegas, for sure. 

Having worked towards 1000 bars for 8 years, Las Vegas was the logical conclusion to the project. If there is one place in the world dedicated to drinking (apart from, perhaps, Glasgow) it's Las Vegas! Excited by this sudden moment of clarity, I pulled my map back from under the coffee table and looked at that spot in the middle of the Nevada desert. Las Vegas. The name alone brings up images of high stakes gambling, irresponsible drinking and never ending debauchery. It would be perfect.

I thanked Gil Grissom and his team of crime fighters for their help in solving my problem (and a triple homicide, as I found out 40 minutes later) and spent the rest of the night contemplating my trip to Las Vegas.

                                              Thanks, guys!

I had bought a Lonely Planet about Las Vegas when I was in Sydney a couple of years earlier, the reasoning behind it being that it looked cool, was on sale and I would probably go there at some point in my life anyway. I took the guide off the shelf now, unfolded the map and browsed through the names I came across. The Sahara. The Stratosphere. Caesar’s Palace.The Bellagio. Just reading these names made me want to grab my wallet and a change of clothes and go straight away.

Unfortunately, I had to wait for another couple of months before I could go. I hadn’t even booked a flight yet. The real planning got underway sooner than expected when, a month later, I got a surprisingly large refund from the Irish Revenue Service, mainly due to the fact that I had taken a couple of months of work the previous year, but had been taxed for the whole year. So with the money from the Revenue Service, I booked myself on a flight to Las Vegas and started planning. 

WEEEEEEEEEE!!

One of the most iconic things people know about Las Vegas, are the mega-hotels on the strip like the ones I mentioned above. I checked some prices and found that the big name hotels like the Hardrock, Hooters and Planet Hollywood all had very reasonable prices on weekdays. On those days, a room can be had for as low as $35,- if you know where to look. This is ofcourse quite affordable, but the prices shoot through the roof in the weekends, and go up to around $150,- for a simple room. I did not expect there to be a large selection of hostels in Las Vegas, but in the end there were a good few to choose from. My original plan was to get a hostel for the first weekend I was there and then take advantage of the cheap hotel rooms during the week. Upon reconsidering, and having found a great hostel, I dropped the plan of switching accomodation because I did not feel like spending time moving during my holiday and, really, how much time are you going to spend in your hotel room anyway? You’re in Vegas, baby! There’s so much stuff to do, spending more than a couple of hours a day in your room would, in my opinion, be wasting valuable party time! After consulting Hostelworld.com, I settled on a place called Hostel cat because it looked sunny and fun.

I arrived there at around 9 in the evening, after a 7 hour flight from Dublin to Charlotte, a 3 hour layover there and then a 4 hour flight to Las Vegas. As soon as I walked off the plane, I could feel the balmy evening desert air, even on the jetway. I walked into the terminal and from the first step I set on Vegas soil, I could hear it: the clicking and beeping and pinging of slot machines. From the moment you walk into the airport it is there, the white noise that you hear in a city that never sleeps, like New York or London. Here in Vegas, that white noise consists of the sound of hundreds of slot machines. It would not leave my ears for the next nine days.

The airport shuttle dropped me off at the Stratosphere hotel at the North end of the strip, which was located some 5 minutes from my hostel. I walked through the casino and forced myself not to sit down for a drink, knowing that doing that would probably end in me having to find my accommodation hours later with half a dozen drinks in me. As it was my first time in Vegas I didn't really know where I was going but, as Vegas is basically just one long street that runs from downtown to the airport, I didn't expect any problems. By exception, I found my hostel without any problems or detours and I checked in. 

I was pleasantly surprised by the place. Where in Europe hostels are often situated on the 4^th floor of a building that is otherwise occupied by businesses or offices, or located to the back of a garage or on the side of a steep hill (That’s you, Cork!), this hostel had its own 2 acre piece of land, situated about a 5 minute walk from the Stratosphere and 10 minutes from Downtown Las Vegas. The lay out was awesome. It was set up as a big rectangle, with the office, kitchen and lobby making up one side and the other 3 sides made up of 20 bungalows in a U shape, thereby creating an enclosed courtyard that had tables, chairs, a couple of large umbrellas to shelter people from the ever present sunshine and a barbecue. It sort of looked like the garden in Melrose Place, for those of you old enough to remember that tv show. I liked it instantly. The courtyard was an ideal place for hanging out and partying and, I found throughout my stay there, was used for that purpose 24/7. No matter what time of day it was, there were always people there, drinking, eating and having a good time. I was given a key for bungalow 4 and made my way to the courtyard and my home for the next 9 days. I noticed that all the bungalows had a flag painted on the door and to my joy I found that my bungalow was dressed up with the Australian flag. I went inside, found that 4 of the beds were taken and claimed the bed next to the bathroom for myself. The mattress was comfy, so I laid down for a minute or so, dropped some clothes and a book on my bed (this is international hostel language for ‘This bed is mine, pick another one to sleep in’) and went out again.


             Feelin' at home


I went to reception to find out some basic necessities like when’s breakfast, where’s the nearest ATM and where’s the 24/7 liquor store. The ATM was right there in the lobby and, as the girl at reception informed me, only charged a $3 ATM fee( which might seem steep until you realise that the big casinos routinely charge $7 or 8 for each withdrawal) and, oh joy, there was a 7/11 with a huge selection of liquor just a block away and it was open around the clock. There was also a pizza place a block away from the hostel so all my basic needs were taken care of.  

Happy with this knowledge, I set off for my first order of business- the First Friday Arts Festival. I had read that on every first Friday of the month, the local art community in Downtown Las Vegas organises a street fair with art exhibitions, craftwork stalls, food karts and live open air music. As I found, it was about 50 yards from the entrance of the hostel and took up an area of about 3 by 3 blocks. The first stall I came across was a beer tent, so I picked up a plastic cup of PBR and had a look around. There was all kinds of stuff to do. There were a lot of stalls selling art, from Mexican style skulls-with-flowers to engraved mirrors to those little puppets made out of steelwire performing everyday tasks like playing guitar, riding a bicycle or leaning against a lamp post while holding a bottle (the inspiration for that last one must have come from Dublin). There were a lot of food karts and trucks, among them a lobstertruck (I’m not joking, they were selling lobster from the back of a truck), a pie shop and more taco stands than you need on one night. There were several stages set up on the street with a variety of musical styles coming at you, with the highlight being a lone guy playing a huge classic bass. Walking around this festival, I really enjoyed getting to meet actual locals, rather than tourists like me that you find elsewhere in the city.  I watched a couple of songs of a band that was playing in a half open tent and consisted of a female guitarplayer, a guy with a beard on harp, a drummer and a robot bassplayer. It’s still Vegas, you see.

             Bass dude.

I found that the festival ends at 11PM, so I finished my beer and went for a walk around the ‘hood, in search of the liquor store. I found it straight away, bought a couple of cans and headed back to the hostel garden where a party was ongoing. I chatted with some of the other partygoers, had a couple of beers and contemplated what to do. I was quite tired, which was normal as it was coming up to 1AM, which meant that it was 9 in the morning back home. The wise thing would ofcourse be to get some sleep after being awake for nearly 30 hours but those of you who have known me for a while will have guessed that I decided to walk to the nearest casino, which was the Stratosphere.
I walked into the casino and the place was packed with gamblers. Hundreds of slotmachines bleeped at me in a neverending cacaphony of noise. Delirious light shows flashed from every direction and the ticking of paid out quarters was around every corner. It was like somebody put a borderline schizophrenic in charge of every button and switch in the building. I loved it straight away.


        Wanna play?


I got a beer from the nearest bar and wandered around for a bit, having a look at the roulette tables and people playing craps, before I found a slot machine that looked cool.  I put in a 5 dollar bill and played for a while, winning some, loosing some and I was just about to figure out where I was going to get my next Corona from when, as if sent by some higher power, a very good looking waitress walked up to me and asked if I would like another beer. I certainly would, so I ordered another Corona and went back to my game. About 5 minutes later, she put down a fresh bottle on the shelf next to my slot machine. I put 2 dollars on her tray and while I was going through my pockets to find the rest of the money, she walked off.
So it IS true that they give you free booze when you’re gambling in Vegas!
This was an interesting development.

I had heard about this several times, but I expected that they’d only give free booze to the high rollers or regulars. I had been playing penny slots for about 15 minutes, and already got a free drink out of it. As it turned out, the casinos in Vegas –all casinos- are very happy to give you as much free drink as you want, mostly based on the idea that a drunk customer is a happy customer and will be reluctant to leave. Ofcourse, another avenue of reasoning in this is that drunk customers make stupid gambling decisions, so the free booze pays itself back in lost bets.


      Oleeeee!

Whatever the case, I was a happy customer now and at the end of my time in Vegas I realised that I had never gotten so much free beer in any city. Over the next hours, I happily wandered around the casino, playing a game here, having a drink there and generally having a great time.
My eyes were getting heavy though. The combination of being awake for 34 hours and spending most of that time drinking made me very tired all of a sudden, and I finally decided to call it a day. I walked back to the hostel while the sun was coming up over the horizon. I made one final stop at 7/11 to get a beer for the road and drank it in the hostel’s courtyard where 2 people were just getting ready to go out for the day, 3 were still drinking and 1 was passed out with his head on the table.
Vegas does that to you. And I loved every second of it.

Impressions of Las Vegas

It's been 3 weeks since I got back from Las Vegas and my head is still spinning. I'm currently writing a story about my time in Vegas, but I thought I'd let you in on the fun by starting with sharing some of the highlights of this awesome trip.

Coolest casino- outside:
New York New York. They built the whole damned New York skyline into the design of the building, including the Empire State Building, the Chrysler Building, the Brooklyn Bridge and the Statue of Liberty. Oh yeah, there is also a roller coaster going through the hotel, to commemorate Astroland, the unfortunately  now defunct funpark on Coney Island.

Coolest casino - inside: Mandalay Bay is absolutely stunning. I spent an hour just looking at te decorations and the garden, before I even put a dollar in a slotmachine.

Coolest casino to gamble in – Hooters. Apart from the hottest waitresses, they also had the most fun games, the wackiest slotmachines and the most free beer. They even gave me a Regular Gambler card.

Best bar- Dino’s, a small bar near the Stratosphere hotel. It had a real neighbourhood feel to it, and was something completely different from all the big money hotel bars on the Strip and the flashy gambler’s haunts Downtown.  It wouldn’t look out of place in Boston or South Philadelphia. Best of all, it was open 24/7, which brings me to the next point:

Best thing in general- Everything is open 24/7! I absolutely loved it. No matter what time of day or night it is, whenever you fancy something (anything) you just go out and get it. High Stakes poker at 3 in the morning? No problem, there are dozens of casinos to choose from. Want a 17” pizza for breakfast? They’ll deliver it right to your doorstep in 20 minutes. Feel like oysters and champagne at 10 in the morning? Sit down right here and a waiter will be with you in a minute.

                                                  Breaksfast in Vegas.

Also best thing in general- Apart from everything being open 24/7, you can buy alcohol almost everywhere. Souvenir shops, hot dog stands, you name it, they sell beer. Or margaritas, or bourbon and coke or wine.  You get the picture. And because everyone is drinking the whole day, there is no use in having strict drinking laws which means that there are groups of people everywhere swaying across the streets clutching bottles of beer or those plastic 1 litre margarita glasses, it was like one massive neverending street party. I had the time of my life.

Personal highlights- Apart from running into an old friend who I hadn’t seen in years, I visited my 1000^th bar, something I had been working on for 8 years. I am now also a member of the club of supercool people who have 10 or more tattoos, thanks to the guys at Downtown Tattoo, and of the club of people who have crossed the Atlantic Ocean 10 times. It was a week of landmarks for me personally and I enjoyed absolutely every second of it.

                                                        The author, celebrating 1000 Bars

I did miss out on a couple of things I planned on doing. I never got around to going to the Pinball Museum for some reason, it just got snowed in between all the other awesome stuff there is to do. The tunnel tours, where you go into the flood tunnels under the city, where the mole people live, were currently off the schedule, according to the staff at my hostel, because of safety issues. Bummer, that was the main reason I wanted to do it.

I had to relocate my tattoo appointment to a more centrally located shop as the one I had planned on going was so far out that after walking for over a mile from the Southernmost point of the Strip, I still was nowhere near it. And that’s another thing about Vegas. Because everything is centralised on one street (The Strip) and a 5 square block area downtown, you get the impression that everything is in close proxomity. You see, everything in Las Vegas is  over the top, and that includes the size of everything. The Stratosphere Casino, at 1149 ft(350 metres), is the tallest building in the USA, West of the Mississippi. The Mandalay Bay casino has an internal monorail train to take you to the other side of the casino and the entrance to the Luxor next door. Caesar’s Palace is 3 quarters of a mile from East to West. They don’t do things small scale in Vegas.

There were a couple of minor things that were disappointing, namely that the Brooklyn Bridge was closed for maintenance and Coyote Ugly was nowhere near as cool as in the movie. Yes, there were hot girls and yes, they were dancing on the bar. But there was a bunch of annoying bouncers at the door who even demanded that I threw away my water bottle. I seriously don’t understand why because when I walked inside, I was handed 2 glass bottles of Corona that I could have hurt people much more with than with a water bottle. Anyway, dancing on the bar only happened every now and then and in the time inbetween they entertained the crowd with lame barn-dance stuff like hula-hoops.
Anyway, these were minor setbacks in a holiday that consisted solely of triumphs. I love Las Vegas, I love the over the top “everything-you-can-do,I-can-do-better” one-uppery that never stops. I can understand that it will drive people insane after a while, especially people who aren’t used to big and busy cities. Being a city slicker and used to the constant white noise of traffic, people shouting, trains passing by and fire trucks in the distance, I had little problem adjusting to life in Vegas. Yes, even for me it is noisy and over the top, but I love it there and I will certainly be back. Go check it out for yourself!

The full story on my whereabouts in Las Vegas will be up soon.

Cheers
Lennard

Malaga Part II

Saturday, I decided, was going to be beach day. 

I had a small breakfast at the hostel and was offered a beer by one of the Americans. Though it was only 10.30 in the morning, I thought it would be rude to decline so we celebrated the good start to the day in the sun. I then had a look at my phone and noticed that the battery only had about 20% power left, despite having been charged all night. I borrowed a phone charger at reception to cross check and found that it was charging fine. Good thing: phone still working. Bad thing: charger fucked.
So I finished my beer and set off to find a new charger. I found one for the very reasonable price of 4 euros in a shop around the corner, returned to the hostel, and delayed my departure to the beach by an hour because I'm one of those people that can't go without their phone for 2 hours. I had another beer and a fully charged phone at the end of that so my day on the beach could now begin.  I decided I was going to have a bite to eat on my way to the beach, and settled on a place called Cortija de Pepe. I walked in and was delighted. This was what I expected a Spanish tapas bar to look like. The narrow place was filled with a long bar lined with stools on one side and glass display cases filled with food on the other side.  An overweight guy in a short sleeved shirt with greasy black hair was busily shuffling around behind the bar, serving up tankards of beer and portions of food. I had a couple of plates of food and 2 beers and set off for the beach.

There are basically 2 ways to get to the beach from Malaga city centre: the fast way or the scenic route. I took the scenic route and it is really quite pretty. You pass by the ruins of the old Roman Amphi theatre and the Alcazaba(or, at least I did) and then you walk down through a beautiful city park called the Paseo Parque, an area filled with big palm trees, well kept hedges, beautiful flowers in bright colors and an Ent. Yes, you read that correctly, they have an Ent in Malaga. Don’t believe me? Here’s a picture of it:

After a half hour walk, I arrived at the beach. I likes beaches. I like walking through the sand, feel the water flow over my feet and most of all I like to stare out over the water into the distance. It makes me feel relaxed. There is, however, one problem with going to the beach when you’re travelling on your own; it is almost never possible to go for a swim. If you’re on your own, there’s no one to watch your wallet, passport, phone and all that other stuff you cary around, and since there are no lockers on most beaches, your contact with the water is pretty much limited to walking into it knee deep.
Because of this, I usually get restless on the beach after about an hour.  I get bored of just sitting there doing nothing. The situation improves dramatically if you park me on a bar stool in a beach side bar with a cold beer in my hand.  That, I can keep up all day.  


                        As you can see here.

So that’s what I did, I walked to a chiringuito and ordered a beer. A Chiringuito is a very basic beach bar with a seating area where you can enjoy your beer and look out over the sea. And if, like me, you write stories about bars and travelling, you can call this research.
I ordered a San Miguel and, as was now becoming customary, was presented with a small bowl of olives.  I looked out over the beach and the sea and tried to make out what the 2 Spanish guys having lunch on the stools next to me were talking about. I am currently doing a starters course in Spanish so my knowledge is very basic, but I got an idea of what they were talking about.

Sitting on the beach with a drink always makes me lose track of time. Last year in New York, I went to visit Rockaway Beach, both because it is the subject of one of my favorite Ramones songs and because the weather was fantastic. I went there early in the afternoon, with the idea to have a look around, maybe have lunch and then get back to the city. It wasn’t until I realised that I had 4 empty pint glasses standing on the picknick table in front of me, that it dawned on me that I had whiled the afternoon away, staring out over the Atlantic Ocean and talking to the local weirdos, who always seem to congregate at beach bars in America.  The same thing happened here in Malaga, so when I started to get hungry, I noticed that it was heading on for dinner time. Well, dinner time in the rest of Europe, in Spain it was still hours away.  I walked back to the city at a leisurely pace and by the time I got back to the hostel, I was just in time for dinner, which on this day consisted of hamburgers.  While I had actually planned on going for sea food somewhere, the burgers looked nice and when the hostel staff brought out pitchers of sangria, the deal was settled and I joined the assembled backpackers for dinner.  It is always fun to have a drink in a hostel and share stories with other travellers, so all had a good time. We had a long after dinner session and I finished the night with a walk around the nearby square and a night cap. Life in Spain is good.

For my Sunday, I had planned a trip. It wasn't a particularly taxing or long trip, but I was going to leave the city of Malaga, even though I was only going to the next resort down the coast. I was going to Torremolinos. I wasn't going there to find sea food or sunshine or beaches, they had all that stuff over in Malaga as well.    No, The reason for going to Torremolinos can be found a dozen years back in time. I was working for a company in Holland with 2 friends. We weren't exactly working together, we all worked in different departments, but we spent 40 hours a week in the same building so we ran into each other on a regular basis. One day, while I was slaving away over a large pile of information requests regarding disability insurance (yes kids, life doesn't get much more exciting than that!) one of my friends came over to my desk so I decided to take  a break. He told me that he was planning for his summer holiday and the requirements were that it had to be warm, sunny and have plenty of beaches and asked if I was interested in going with him.  I told him that I had already planned my summer holidays around heavy metal festivals in Germany (hey, why sit in the sun on a beach if you can stand in the rain and listen to songs about Satan?) so I politely declined. About an hour later, during my lunch break, my other friend came over and told me that he was planning for his summer holiday and the requirements were that it had to be warm, sunny and have plenty of beaches and asked if I was interested in going with him. I told him that I had already planned my summer holidays around heavy metal festivals in Germany  so I politely declined.
It took about 10 minutes before the coin dropped, but then I finally realised that they could go together. They weren’t as close as either of them were to me, but I figured that if they ended up in a sunny tourist trap that they’d have a great time anyway, so off they went to Torremolinos. 

                Looks nice, doesn't it?

As it turned out, I was quite wrong in my assumption. I heard the stories from both of them, and they had completely different ideas about holidaying.  One of them wanted to sleep til noon and then spend the day on the beach. The other wanted to get up reasonably in time and see the surroundings. One wanted to sample the local food and drink, while the other did not venture beyond fried chicken and Heineken. One wanted to go to local bars and hang out, the other wanted to hit the night clubs until they closed. All in all, it was a long 10 days for both of them.   And now, over a decade later, I was going to check out the place for myself. I made my way to the trainstation and was in Torremolinos within  15 minutes.  I had a quick look around in the train station area (I always do this, for reference on the way back, in case I end up in a tavern and have a drink) and made my way into town.  Well, town.. Torremolinos isn’t a town in the traditional sense of the word, with a real centre and neighbourhoods. It’s  a holiday resort like most others along the Spanish coast, basically one big clusterfuck of highrise hotels, souvenir shops, restaurants and bars.


                        Like this..

Which is, ofcourse, awesome, if you’re only there for one or two weeks a year.  What can I say of the place.. I had a good afternoon there, visited a bunch of bars, spent an hour on the beach and half an hour in an arcade (I’m still 12 in some part of my brain. When I see an arcade, I have to go in and play a game) . I had a nice pizza in a bar on the boulevard and had a drink in a pirate theme bar on the beach. I could entertain myself here for 2 days, 3, maybe, but I can’t see myself spending a week and a half here. Having said that, this place is absolutely awesome if you’re 19 and the only goal of your holiday is to spend the entire day on the beach and the rest of your time in nightclubs. 

Or shooting plastic Hilbillies in the arcade

And with this thought, I made my way back to Malaga.  I whiled away my final night in Malaga as I had pretty much done the first 2 nights. I walked around for a bit, sat down for a beer here, and for an ice cream there and just had a really relaxed evening.

And that, I think, is what Malaga is great for, and great at. Malaga does not have the varied and wild nightlife of London or Berlin. It does not have the air of sophistication of Paris or Vienna and it does not have the gritty industrial feel of Glasgow or Rotterdam. What does it have? Malaga is just a really nice place, with really nice people, really nice food and really nice weather. In short, it’s a really nice place and I will definitely go back.