The Not-Quite States of America comes out TODAY. Here's everything I want you to know.

More than three years ago, I began working on a book about the U.S. territories. I traveled more than 31,000 miles to visit these far-flung islands, flying on ocean-crossing jets and shoebox-size planes, riding on ferries and in the back of pickup trucks, and slooowly easing rental cars along potholed mountain roads. I spent even more time writing and rewriting and rerewriting and paging though books and scrolling through microfiche and tracking down old newspapers.

Today, the book is officially here, published by W.W. Norton. And, ahem ...

It's available wherever books are sold--get it from your local store or online from IndieBound, Barnes & Noble, or Amazon. 

If you're in the Twin Cities, please come to my book launch party next Thursday, February 23rd, at 7:00pm at Honey in Northeast Minneapolis. 

(And since today is Valentine's Day, I also made some occasion-worthy cards and even some wrapping paper so you can pretend it's a box of chocolates. No, for real, I actually made those.) 

I’m genuinely excited for you to read the book. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll learn some interesting things about these places and their cultures and their histories, and get a new perspective on the USA as a whole--who we are, how we got here. There are World War II battles and beer-drinking pigs and family backyard barbecues. A glowing bay, an abandoned mall, a Micronesian Stonehenge.

Consider this post A Brief Review of the Things I Want You to Know about The Not-Quite States of America, including:

• A few details about the book, and where to get it
• How you can help me spread the word, please and thank you
• Notes on my own favorite scenes and key points
• Some upcoming events

For even more book info, head over to www.notquitestates.com.

* * *

Please buy the book! 

Also ask your library to order it. (Call all the libraries you know. Call random libraries!) It should be readily available at bookstores across the USA as of today. If not, ask them to order it.

Or order it online. Links again:  IndieBound, Barnes & Noble, Amazon.

You can also get it for your Kindle or other e-reader. And there's an audio version, though I can't find the link right this second and I'll have to update this sentence when I find it.

Thank you! Thank you so much.

* * *

Please spread the word. Thanks in advance.

Truth: Publishing is brutal and I need all the help I can get to stand out (especially since the Biggest Book of the Season—the new novel by George Saunders—is being released on the same day).

So! As you read, if you see something interesting or noteworthy, give a holler on Facebook/Twitter/Instagram/Friendster/whatever. Feel free to tag me (Twitter: @douglasmack / Facebook: @DougMackAuthor) or use the hashtag #NotQuiteStates.

And when you’re done with the book—it’s 280 pages, a fast read—I’d sure appreciate it you would tell your friends and also leave a review somewhere.

• Do a reader recommendation at your local store (if they do that sort of thing)
• Post a review on Amazon or Barnes & Noble or Indiebound
• Show some love on Goodreads

Be honest! Give details beyond “This is great!!!” (But if you don’t like the book, please either silently hand it to your enemy or just never tell anyone else about it. Thanks.)

* * *

If you're on Goodreads

I'm also giving away three signed copies--and I'll even include some bonus behind-the-scenes info. Here are all the details about the giveaway.

The giveaway period ends on February 21, so sign up now. 

* * *

A brief introduction to the book, by way of a party trick

* * *

A few book highlights

The book mixes history, travel, and politics, with the ultimate goal of giving you, dear reader, a sense of why the territories matter and what they're like and why they should be a bigger part of our national conversation. 

You'll read about history, including: 

• The territories role in the broader story of American expansion--it was never just about heading west but also about going overseas
• How farmers' need for fertilizer in the mid-1800s led to a major quest to find tiny islands
  
  covered in guano--bird poop--which then paved the way for more expansion
• Why the territories were arguably the biggest topic in the USA around 1900--the so-called "Imperial Moment"--and why they eventually fell out of the national conversation
• How a series of Supreme Court cases, starting around 1900, made territory residents essentially second-class citizens, without the full rights of Americans in the states
• The critical role of our Pacific islands in World War II. Guam and two Aleutian islands were occupied by the Japanese for much of the war. 

You'll read about my own adventures and misadventures--hiking in the mountains of American Samoa, failing to learn salsa dancing in Puerto Rico, eating amazing barbecue on Guam. But my larger goal is to amplify the voices and stories of the people in the territories. 

These include:

• A pair of radio DJs who gave me an impromptu tour of Saint Croix
• Rastafari farmers on the island of Saint Thomas 
• Conservation workers in American Samoa working to protect their reefs and other natural resources
• American Samoan lawyers fighting for citizenship rights. (Currently, American Samoans are US nationals, not citizens. It's ... complicated.)
• The organizer of Samoan tattooing festival, who helped bring the art form back and share it with the world   
  
• Members of a military veterans' motorcycle club on Guam, who showed me around the island's World War II battlegrounds
• Immigrants from other nations seeking their own American Dreams in the territories, including a woman from China who came to Saipan to work in its notorious garment factories
• Activists in each territory who are fighting for a different political status--some argue for statehood, others want independence
• A pedigreed chef who had long worked in famous restaurants in the states and in Panama, but had just opened his own spot in a small mountain town in Puerto Rico. (Hi, Carlos!)

And, finally, you'll learn about the territories' role in the present-day story of the USA, from immigration to economics to the build-up of the military base on Guam, the better to keep an eye on China (even while Guam opens its doors to increasing numbers of Chinese tourists). 

The territories, I argue, are the USA's most important domestic policy issue no one is talking about.

* * * 

Events

We’re still working out the details for several events, including New York, Washington, DC, Seattle, and Portland. But the following events are confirmed:

Thursday, February 23 at 7pm
Book launch party at Honey in Northeast Minneapolis

More details on the Facebook event page

Tuesday, March 14 at 7:00pm

Harvard Book Store in Cambridge, Massachusetts 

More info here

Sunday, March 19 at 2pm
Books & Books in Coral Gables, Florida

Monday, March 20
Friends of the Library Lecture Series, Key West, Florida

Monday, March 27 at 6:30pm

World Affairs Council of Dallas/Fort Worth

More info here

Tuesday, March 28 at 11:45am

World Affairs Council of Dallas/Fort Worth

More info here

* * *

One last gentle reminder: Read and review! Thanks!

IndieBound

Barnes & Noble

Amazon

Goodreads

A Letter to My Toddler Daughter on the Eve of the Presidential Inauguration

The morning of November 8—election day—my wife and I and our one-year-old daughter eagerly wore our Hillary for President shirts. The H-with-an-arrow logo seemed to embody our daughter’s nimble, energetic, hopeful spirit. We even had a t-shirt for her teddy bear, and as she hugged it, she flashed a gap-toothed, triumphal smile.

I thought about the letter to my daughter that I’d recently begun. I was going to finish up that night, when Hillary Rodham Clinton was elected our first female president. I was going to talk about strong women. Sojurner Truth. Susan B. Anthony. Fanny Lou Hamer. Thanks to all their hard work all of us alive today have more opportunities, and though there’s more—way, way more—to be done, the future’s bright.

And the election results came.

Platitudes drained away. Words failed. The document with my notes stayed untouched for days, weeks, months. I didn't know how to say something that didn’t devolve into swearing and bitterness. I’ve never felt such writers’ block, or such a mental block, period.

On the cusp of inauguration, I’m still trying to make sense of it all, but I also understand that I can’t just sit here processing. And this, I’ve finally realized, is what I want to say to my daughter:

* * * 

Dear M,

The stories you know end “Happily Ever After,” and what a joy that is. In real life, it’s possible, achievable. Savor that hope, that vision for the future. Never let it go.

But the truth is, my love, things do not always work out, despite our best efforts, our best intentions, our dearest wishes. Saying this out loud feels like both a breach of the parental contract to soothe and comfort, and also a fulfillment of parental obligation to prepare you for the world.

The lives we lead do not always follow a tidy, predictable, cheery narrative arc. The monsters and villains and bullies—people who brag about assaulting women, say things that even their friends agree are racist, use power to line their own pockets, take pleasure in belittling and causing physical harm to other people—sometimes win, even when we stand up to them.

In a better world, this would not be so. In a better world, the long arc of history really would bend toward justice. I’m still enough of an optimist to think that maybe, in the longest of long terms, that’s where it’s heading. But in the meantime, it sure takes a lot of detours toward turmoil.

Nothing is promised.

Yet nothing is impossible, either. And there’s not even a chance for a better world unless you work for it.

So do that.

Work for the core values of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness for everyone, even when it feels inconvenient or awkward for you. For racial and economic justice. For the health and well-being of your community. For gender equality, for clean air, for safe streets. For a better world, as wishy-washy and naïve as that may sometimes feel.

Climate change is real; black lives matter; immigrants make our communities immeasurably better; a free press and voting rights are essential to a functioning democracy--these are all truths that I feel obligated to write down for posterity, because in our topsy-turvy moment, too many people are denying them.

Know that you are never alone, in the dark moments of despair or in your forward-looking efforts to be the change. Build your community—and work to expand it. Be kind and compassionate, even to those who seem odd or with whom you disagree. Put yourself in their shoes, listen to their arguments, dig deeper to understand both the facts in question and the common ground of opinions.

Seek truth, knowing that it can be subjective, but having zero tolerance for those who try to twist it. Strive to make the world a better place for everyone, not just yourself.

Let me repeat that: Strive to make the world a better place. For everyone. Not just yourself.

It’s not always easy or fun. It doesn’t always help you get ahead. But it’s the right thing to do, the only way for us all to get ahead together.

Finally, understand the limits of all of this. Sometimes you will need to take care of yourself and curl up in a blanket and hide from the world. These moments are human and necessary.

Other times, you will sometimes run out of empathy and listening. Sometimes fighting for what’s right requires you to be belligerent, to stand your ground, to give no quarter, to tell people, “You’re wrong, back off.” That is sometimes the appropriate response. Be confident and independent and trust yourself.

Moving forward is a struggle—sometimes awkward and stumbling. But the fight’s the thing.

And know that I’m always rooting for you, with all my love and admiration.

Love,

Dad

My Book Would Make an Excellent Valentine's Day Gift

So I have a new book coming out on February 14th. It's called The Not-Quite States of America and it's all about the U.S. territories and Booklist says, "One will never think about the United States in quite the same way after this enjoyable read" and you can preorder it from your local bookseller or via Indiebound, Barnes & Noble, direct from W.W. Norton, or from that giant website named for a river ... and there's lots more info right over here.

But let's go back to the February 14th thing. That's Valentine's Day. An occasion best known for flowers and chocolates and teddy bears dressed like Cupid and dinner at whatever fancy restaurant still had space when you finally remembered to call yesterday.

You know that's even better than that--and would make for a less clichéd, more lasting sort of gift? My book. But perhaps you need some enticing. Perhaps the book lacks the proper sense of occasion. Well, fret no more, because now you can have it all: a great book (sure to gain your loved one's affection) and your Valentine's Day swag.

Which is to say: I made you some wrapping paper and some cards that fit both the spirit of the day and the spirit of the book.

The wrapping paper is set up to print on 11" x 17" paper and, yes, it's all the right size and suitable for printing. Here's the PDF file.

The cards are also all set to go--just print on 8.5" x 11" paper (do not scale) and trim as noted; they're 4" x 6" when folded. Some are sweet, some are snarky. Some are specific references to my book and its themes; some simply celebrate reading. Something for everyone and every relationship. Here's the PDF file with all fifteen cards. And here's a sample.

(Page 152 features an X-rated sculpture park on Guam.)

True.

If you do give this as a gift to someone and use the wrapping paper or one of these cards, tweet me a photo (or post it to my Facebook page) and I'll send you a little gift. Real offer.

Go on, then. Preorder!
Indiebound
Barnes & Noble
direct from W.W. Norton,
Amazon

... And there's more about the book over here.

Why Puerto Rico and other US territories have their own Olympic teams

This evening in Rio de Janeiro, thousands of athletes will march into Maracanã Stadium, representing 207 teams—which is not to say 207 countries acknowledged as such by the United Nations.

There will also be, among others, a refugee team and the “Independent Olympic Participants” and the Cayman Islands, a British Overseas Territory. And if you’re paying attention, you’ll notice a few delegations from “countries” you may have thought were part of the United States—the American territories of Puerto Rico (forty athletes), the US Virgin Islands (seven), Guam (three), and American Samoa (three). (The other US territory, the Northern Mariana Islands, has never fielded an Olympic team.)

So. What’s up with that? Why do the territories have their own teams?

According to the Olympic charter, “the expression ‘country’ means an independent State recognized by the international community.” Of course, “recognized by” is a hazy term; the international community is diverse and fractious body, particularly on matters of land-claims and cultural identity and all the things that make a State a State. Really, the International Olympic Committee’s stance boils down to this: If you call yourself independent and have some level of political separation from any other nation, that’s good enough. (Soccer’s governing body, FIFA, has an even looser definition of “country.” American Samoa’s men’s team was for many years the lowest-ranked side in the world; there’s delightful documentary about the team, called “Next Goal Wins.”)

The US territories are neither states in the American sense nor States in the UN sense. They’re part of the USA, sorta kinda (gentle reminder: You can now preorder my book about this!) but separate enough that the IOC has given the okay to field their own teams.

And they’ve had some success at it: Puerto Rico has won eight medals nine medals (update: tennis player Monica Puig just won the territory's first gold!) and the USVI won a silver for sailing in 1988. (Bonus fun fact: all four of these territories have sent athletes to the Winter Olympics, including a bobsleigh team from American Samoa.)

In some cases, the presence of an Olympic team is itself a political statement, a way of arguing for autonomy even if, in many legal ways, it doesn’t fully exist. Hence the Palestinian team. Hence the team representing Chinese Taipei, which you know as Taiwan or perhaps the Republic of China and is not to be confused with the People’s Republic of China. (When it comes to whether or not Taiwan is part of China, well, it’s complicated.)

Within each American territory, there’s significant disagreement about what the political status should be in the future: some people are fine with the territorial set-up, some hope to become independent, some argue for statehood. So it’s not quite accurate to see the territories’ teams as a demand for a political change, at least not per se. But, politics aside, they certainly offer a sense of identity and local pride for these places that are too often forgotten by their compatriots back in the states.

When I was in Puerto Rico last year, several people reminisced to me about the 2004 Summer Olympics, when the Puerto Rican men’s basketball team defeated Team USA and its superstars—for a moment, all of Puerto Rico bonded together with a sense of nationalism. As the British historian Eric Hobsbawm has said of soccer teams, “The imagined community of millions seems more real as a team of eleven people.”

New book: THE NOT-QUITE STATES OF AMERICA (coming February 2017)

My new book has a cover and a description and a publication date: February 14, 2017.*

Preorder now via the W.W. Norton website or your local bookstore or retailer of choice! Ask for it by name: The Not-Quite States of America: Dispatches From the Territories and Other Far-Flung Outposts of the USA

And here's a description:

An entertaining and eye-opening journey to the most overlooked parts of America.

Everyone knows that the USA is made up of fifty states and, uh, . . . some other stuff. The territories of American Samoa, Guam, Puerto Rico, the Northern Mariana Islands, and the US Virgin Islands are often neglected, but they are filled with American flags and national parks and US post offices and some 4 million people, many of whom are as proudly red-white-and-blue as any Daughter of the American Revolution.

In The Not-Quite States of America, Doug Mack ventures 31,000 miles across the globe and deep into American history to reveal the fascinating and forgotten story of how these places became part of the United States, what they’re like today, and how they helped create the nation as we know it. Along the way, Mack meets members of millennia-old indigenous groups, far-flung US government workers, ardent separatists, and tropical-paradise dropouts and dreamers in a quixotic and winning quest to find America where it is least expected.


More details (and a full website with photos and highlights and all kinds of fun stuff) coming soon!

--

* That's right: Valentine's Day. It's the perfect gift for that special (or not-quite special) someone in your life ... or for anyone, of course. Should I make some thematic Valentine's Day cards? Yeah. I think so. 

Je Suis GLBTQ

I woke up on Sunday and heard the news and held my baby daughter close as I wept and apologized for this world, this world, this messed-up world. Forty-nine people killed by a hate-filled man armed with a military-grade weapon "designed for slaughter in war zones."

Throughout the day, politicians tweeted out their "thoughts and prayers for the victims," and we had yet more national flash-debates about terrorism and religious extremism and gun control. There's been plenty said about all of that, and I don't have anything intelligent to add right now (although I need to say: No one needs a fucking AR-15 and they should be banned tomorrow).

But one thing that struck me was the characterization of who, exactly, was "under attack."

I heard Orlando was under attack. I heard America was under attack.

No. This wasn't about a particular place but a particular identity: the people at Pulse were targeted because they were gay. The GLBTQ community, specifically, is what was under attack. They were murdered because of who they love. We need to say it. Say it loud. Say it with agony: 49 PEOPLE KILLED IN GAY NIGHTCLUB BY HOMOPHOBIC GUNMAN WHO WANTED TO KILL GAY PEOPLE.

Yes, the President said it; Hillary Clinton said it; I saw plenty of people on social media saying it. But still, not enough people said it. The message didn't seem to resonate.

As far as I can tell, every well-known Republican politician sent out cut-and-paste prayers for the people killed. They dug deep into the gunman's past and religion, but never once noted that he was killing people for being gay; in the process, they tacitly denied the essential fact that the root cause of this heinous act was not a specific religion but a deep homophobia. And they certainly didn't say that homophobia is all too common across the religious spectrum in this nation, and all too deadly--this is part of a broader history in this nation of attacks on GLBTQ people. (See also: The guy who was planning to attack the LA Pride Parade this weekend. Trans people or people suspected of being trans attacked in bathrooms. The bombing of the UpStairs Lounge.)

Here is what I want to say.

You can't eradicate a sickness until you identify what it is and what it's doing. When you talk about solidarity, know exactly who needs your solidarity. Don't say you stand with Orlando. Say you stand with the GLBTQ community.

If that makes you feel weird, remember how you added a French flag to your Facebook avatar after the Paris attacks last autumn, because even though you're not French, you wanted to express solidarity with a community under siege. Remember how you proclaimed "Je Suis Charlie" after the Charlie Hebdo murders, even though you're not a cartoonist--but you support free speech (even if it makes you kind of uncomfortable) and it's important to show your support for anyone targeted in such a way.

It's pretty basic. All I'm asking is the same thing here. Specific, outward solidarity and empathy with the community under attack. Je Suis GLBTQ. Support the idea that people should be allowed to love whoever they love (even if it makes you kind of uncomfortable). There's a lot more that we need to do to combat homophobia and support the GLBTQ community--here are some resources--but as a baseline, the absolute least we can and must do, is call out hatred when we see it.

I ended Sunday as I began: holding my daughter, weeping. Not just for the dead but for the living--particularly those who have the loudest, most powerful voices--who can't summon the basic decency to identify homophobia as a menace and to push back against it.

If they won't even mumble it, the rest of us need to shout it from the rooftops. I stand with the GLBTQ community--friends and family and strangers. I support you and love you just as you are, and I'm gonna keep fighting for your rights.

(Oh, and I'm closing the comments because I don't have the energy to moderate.)

#TBEX 2016: A Minneapolis Guide From An Authentic Local

Hello there, Travel People. Welcome to the MallOfAmericaville, also known as the Twin Cities.

You may be wondering: If I leave the Mall, will I have to get around via sled dog? Do all the local restaurants serve Jell-O or just most of them? How do I get to Prince's house (#RIP #PurpleRain #WaitHeLivedHereNotIndianapolisRight)? 

Well. I’m Doug. I’ve lived here my whole life, and I have answers and guidance for you. 

I trust that the following goes without saying ... but I still need to say it: Take some time to get the hell out of the Mall and go see Minneapolis and Saint Paul proper. It's your duty as Travel People. Hop on the light rail--there's a station at the Mall--and you can get to Minnehaha Falls, one of our showcase parks (discussed below), in fifteen minutes, and all the way to downtown Minneapolis in about half an hour.

Basic Info

• The local time zone is Central, GMT -5. 
• The local currency is the US dollar ... folded into origami versions of our state things: a loon (state bird), a showy lady's slipper (state flower), a blueberry muffin (state muffin). Start practicing your folding skills; we won't accept your money otherwise. Just a weird local tic.
• Some key phrases in the local language: 
• Saint Paul is, to hear most Minneapolitans describe it, a mythical land at the edge of the known universe, rumored to hold such enchantments as the state capitol, professional hockey, and unicorns. I can verify that, in fact, Saint Paul is both real and wonderful. You should take the time to head east and explore Minneapolis's twin city (see "Other Things to See and Do). To get there via light rail, take the Blue Line from the Mall into downtown Minneapolis, then transfer to the Green Line, heading east.
• Nicollet Mall is the main downtown eating/shopping street, near the Convention Center. Say it the local, definitely-not-French way: "NICK-o-lit" or "NICK-uh-lit."
• A Jucy (or Juicy) Lucy is the local contribution to the culinary universe. Basically, a cheeseburger with the cheese inside. Do eat one, even if you're a hard-core granola-and-sprouts type. They're greasy manna. Don't make the rookie mistake of biting into it immediately after it arrives, unless you want third-degree burns on your tongue. Wait a minute. 
• Nordeast is the area just across the river from downtown Minneapolis. 
• Uptown is actually south of downtown by a few miles. I know, New Yorkers. Hush. 
• The River is the Mississippi. It's a great place to go and brood and calm your neurotic, bookish mind. 
• "That's interesting" or "That's different" are our passive-aggressive ways of saying, basically, WTF. These are both strong, negative reactions, though only when said with a particular flat tone or a big, fake smile. If it's a genuine smile, we probably mean it's actually interesting or different. Good luck trying to discern between the two.

• Getting around: We've got buses and light rail (see Metrotransit.org for schedules). Buses require exact change (or rather, they don’t GIVE change, so if all you’ve got is a fiver, it’ll be an expensive trip). Each light rail stop has ticket kiosks that accept credit cards. Once you've paid for a ride, you're good for unlimited rides on all buses and trains for two and a half hours. 
• You tend to find cabs only at designated taxi stands, e.g. at hotels.
• Get on a bike. The Nice Ride bike-sharing program just reopened for the season. We’ve got a (really, truly) world-class system of parks and parkways and trails, so it’s a great town for two-wheeled exploring.

Touristy Places You Should Visit Anyway

Hey, sometimes the beaten path is pretty awesome. (If you're new to my writing, that's a recurring theme of this blog, as well as my book Europe on Five Wrong Turns a Day.) Around here, the beaten path runs straight through the Mall of America, but I'm just gonna assume you're already planning to spend some time there. Outside the Mall, here are the popular touristy things that are pretty damn sweet and more than worth your time.

• The Mill City Museum is right along the riverfront, in the ruin of an General Mills "A" Mill, which was once the largest flour mill in the world. A genuinely fascinating and well-curated sort of place, it tells the history of Minneapolis, the history of milling, and how those two histories are intertwined. Also, they have a baking lab, where you get to sample the end result of the milling process: cookies.
• The Stone Bridge and Mill Ruins Park, just outside the Mill City Museum, offer the city's best scenery on their own terms, plus stellar views of the downtown skyline and Saint Anthony Falls, which is pretty much the reason Minneapolis exists at all (the falls powered the mills that drove the city's economy ... again, go to the Mill City Museum). 
• The Walker Art Museum, at the very edge of downtown is One of the Finest Modern Art Museums in the World. For real.
• Matt's Bar and the 5-8 Club each claim to have invented the Ju(i)cy Lucy. President Obama ate at Matt's a couple of years ago, Persepolis author Marjane Satrapi went there every day on a trip to Minneapolis and now cooks them for her friends in Paris, and one or both of the restaurants is featured in every other travel story about Minneapolis. And you know what? They should be. Matt's has a smaller menu--the Jucy Lucy comes in one format, American-cheese-filled--and a longer wait; the 5-8 Club has more offerings. Both spots are agreeably dive and the burgers are crazy-greasy and crazy-good. Protip: let the burger cool off a bit before you bite into it, lest you get third-degree cheese burns on your tongue. (By the way, the Blue Door Pub is your go-to for gourmet versions of the Juicy Lucy.)

Juicy Lucy. The specific grease alchemy going on here actually makes it
good for you. True. Kim via Wikimedia Commons

Our Versions of the Things They Have in Every City 

A big art museum. A craft cocktail emporium. The hot new restaurant by a chef who made his or her name out east, then moved back home to give a new twist to local classics, etc, etc. The neighborhood with the cheap eats from around the world. The bar known for its association with some sorta famous band. The old-school deli. Every city has them, and so do we. And I love them and they make the city great ... but if you're visiting from out of town, you'll probably find them pretty similar to the versions you've seen elsewhere.

• Our big museum: The Minneapolis Institute of Arts is . . . honestly, not that different from other big-city museums. Greek statues, European Master paintings, some American stuff. World-class, don't get me wrong, but not necessarily more exciting than other museums you've seen. But, ahem, admission is totally free. And the Prairie School design section shows off our iconic homegrown aesthetic. So there's that.
• Our public market: Midtown Global Market, which has tons of food stands, with solid representation from the city's large Mexican, Vietnamese, Somali, and Indian communities. (True fact: Anthony Bourdain says we have the best Vietnamese food in the USA.)
• Our cheap-eats zone: Nicollet Avenue south of downtown, all the way to Lake Street, is known as "Eat Street" and also has a long, long roster of restaurants. Hop on the 18 bus on Nicollet. Try Quang or Jasmine 26 for Vietnamese, or Harry Singh's Original Caribbean Restaurant (get the roti) or Glam Doll Donuts.
• Our old-school deli: Kramarczuck's, over in Nordeast Minneapolis. Try the house-made sausages at the adjoining cafeteria-style restaurant.
• Our bar associated with a band: The CC Club, made somewhat famous by the Replacements in their song "Here Comes A Regular."
• Our local-boy-goes-East-then-comes-home-to-great-acclaim restaurant: Spoon & Stable
• Our local cocktail emporium: Marvel Bar. (I adore Marvel Bar; it's somehow supremely chic while also identifiably Minnesotan, a hard combo to pull off. The drinks are pricey but worth every penny. Buuuut ... if you've been to a hip cocktail lounge in any other city, know exactly what you're getting into here. Good stuff but nothing unique.)

Things I Think Are Actually Pretty Special and I Really Want You to See Them, Please and Thank You 

• Minneapolis has a world-class park system--truly, I mean it, and it's something I didn't appreciate until I started traveling the world--and one of the very best is Minnehaha Park. It's an easy train ride from the Mall, so no excuses for not going. The park itself is lovely, with its landmark waterfall (Longfellow gave it a shout-out in "Song of Hiawatha") and sprawling grounds. Head down the stairs near the waterfall and then follow the path along the creek all the way out to the Mississippi River. If you have some time to kill, linger at the park's cafe, Sea Salt, which is the local answer to Munich's beer gardens. Seafood is the main event, and worth the two-hour wait in line. But you can also get excellent ice cream and craft beer via much shorter lines. 
• Nicollet Island, which looks like a twee little village hidden in the shadow (almost literally) of downtown Minneapolis. Most locals don't even know about it. (Here's a thing I wrote about it.)
• Bike. Like our parks, our bike path system is genuinely world-class, and the best way to see the city is on two wheels. There's the Grand Rounds, following the parkways that encircle the city (including the chain of lakes at the southern end of town); the Midtown Greenway, a rails-to-trails corridor that cuts across the west-east width of the city; the Kennilworth and Cedar Lake Trails, which together link the lakes to downtown and Target Field ... and that's just the off-street trails. I'm convinced that Minneapolis should promote itself as a bike-tourism destination, like Copenhagen. Help me test this theory, won't you? 
• Here's the city's biking web page, including a good map.
• The easiest way to pedal is with the Nice Ride bike share program. Take the train to Minnehaha Park, where there's a kiosk; from there, head west on Minnehaha Parkway to the chain of lakes, or north on East River Parkway to explore the neighborhoods and link up with the Midtown Greenway. Thank me later. 
• A Baker's Wife's Pastry Shop is about a mile off Minnehaha Parkway and an easy ride from Minnehaha Park. It's my favorite bakery in the world, and I say that as a pastry fiend (it's right there in my Twitter bio) who once ate his way around Paris. There are far fancier bakeries in town (Patisserie 46, Rustica, Salty Tart); this is not the nouveau French bakery you'll find in every big city. It's old-school American baked goods, including the best damn cake doughnuts you'll have anywhere (note: I also spent a long weekend eating every doughnut in NYC; DO NOT QUESTION MY PASTRY JUDGMENT). They have just the right slightly-crispy exterior and pillowy interior and the chocolate ones have this deep, hypnotic ganache that invites odes, nay, arias. And those doughnuts are cheap--like, 55 cents apiece. Everything is cheap, everything is phenomenal, nothing is fussy (the decor is grandma's-basement levels of kitsch, none of it ironic). Cash or check only, don't go there with just a card.  

And I Should Also Note

• Go to Saint Paul. Best thing to do, if you have a few hours and want to explore our twin to the east, is to take the Blue Line into downtown Minneapolis and then hop on the Green Line and head down University Avenue. For an offbeat experience, get off at Snelling and go to Ax-Man Surplus Store, purveyors of all manner of odd and wonderful and just plain confusing stuff. It's like Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore crossed with a Radio Shack crossed with some sort of surrealist toy store. Also: lots of delicious food nearby, like On's Kitchen Thai Cuisine.

Finally, a Word About the Locals

• Minnesotans are friendly, so don’t hesitate to ask anyone for directions and such.
• We’re also not yokels and though we can joke about eating Jell-O and living in igloos, we'd rather you didn't make Flyover Country quips or, worse, express astonishment that there's diversity and culture and even ONE OF THE BEST MODERN ART MUSEUMS IN THE WORLD OUT HERE IN THE HINTERLANDS, WOW! Seriously, if anyone says anything like that, I swear to God we'll . . . scowl imperceptibly as we give you directions and welcome you to our city and tell you about last night's hockey game. 
• We're also quite defensive and passive-aggressive.
• If you say stupid shit about the Twin Cities in a travel article or blog post, people will notice. 
  

  Just ask the Reuters reporter who came here in 2013. Or see the infamous New York Times #grapegate scandal of 2014. I'm not saying you have to be nice or that you should sugar-coat your experience, but I am saying--and this is just general best practice--you should be at least sorta kinda informed, like maybe don't say that the best lake in Minneapolis ("the City of Lakes") is one that ... isn't even in Minneapolis. 
  
  
  Let's close with a message from a local sage named Slug, who ably explains Minneapolitans' low-key pride in their city:
  
  

  
  

Want to know how to get Twins tickets, where to find the best Jucy Lucy, or why you must never, ever utter the word "casserole"? The comments are open; ask away!

Paris.

Paris. 

My heart breaks.

What do you say? I chose to say this, directly to the people of France.  

(If you want to know why I’m writing this, scroll to the English section at the end. But the why isn’t really the point.)

* * *

Paris. France. Mes amis.

Je pleure et debout en solidarité avec vous que je vous écris cette 6.765 kilomètres de distance, à Minneapolis.

Votre courage et votre résilience étonner constamment moi-votre belle nation forte a résisté face à la violence tant de fois.

Comme beaucoup d'Américains, je vous connais seulement comme un touriste: quelques jours errant la ville, manger pain au chocolat à Gérard Mulot, regarder le coucher du soleil de Montmartre. Je souhaite que je savais que tu mieux que je souhaite que nos nations se connaissaient mieux. Mais je tiens à vous dire que les Etats-Unis, vous admire. Non seulement vos pâtisseries et vos paysages, les choses que nous éprouvons en tant que touristes, mais votre esprit, votre courage. Liberté, égalité, fraternité, fermeté.

Vous avez résisté avec nous tant de fois, et nous sommes avec vous.

Je vous souhaite la paix et le confort que vous reconstruisez votre ville et vos vies. J'espère vous voir bientôt.

(Mes excuses pour le mauvais français. Il est de la faute de Google Translate.)

* * *

And here’s a note for the Americans.

My Facebook feed is filled with French flags and vacation photos of Notre Dame and Les Deux Magots and a certain tower. I understand and admire the impulse: This awful thing has happened, I don’t know to express my sadness, and a Facebook photo is something, at least.

Yet I can’t bring myself to change my profile, post my snapshots, offer tales of strolls along the Seine, as though my tourist memories were somehow an acceptable proxy for the real human lives torn apart.

I understand that the power comes from the aggregate—collectively, these pixelated squares send a message: There are so, so many of us thinking of you. No judgment, I promise, of people who do post photos.

But to me, for my purposes, it feels so damn easy, like a Yo app for empathy and activism (Click! Done! Solidarity accomplished!). Moreover, the audience is so incredibly limited: it’s message-making exclusively for my curated friends, a whisper in the echo chamber rather than a genuinely public statement. It’s not attending a vigil, it’s not a West Point football player carrying the Tricolor onto the field, which is also easy but unexpectedly moving, because a football game at West Point is about as rah-rah-America as it gets; there’s real meaning in that gesture.

But still, you have to say something. And while I fully acknowledge that this is also an empty gesture (particularly because no one reads this blog, much less anyone in France) . . . this is the best I’ve got.

American History as a Hero's Journey

As I've worked on my book about the US territories (still in progress, thanks for asking), I've been thinking about the role of the territories in two separate versions of American history: the collective-memory mythology and the actual, factual master narrative.

In the process, I've also been pondering what, exactly, the mythology version looks like. Here's where my mind is right now: I think that the USA largely sees itself as living out its own rags-to-riches tale. Or, to put it another way, a Hero's Journey, in Joseph Campbell's classic formulation:

A hero ventures forth from the world of common day into a region of supernatural wonder: fabulous forces are there encountered and a decisive victory is won: the hero comes back from this mysterious adventure with the power to bestow boons on his fellow man.

The key detail for the American Hero's Journey is that in the popular imagination, it's now effectively complete, aside from a bit of ongoing housekeeping.*

Basically, it's like this:

Click for larger image

All jokes aside, I think this accurately shows the general contours of how Americans, collectively, see history. I'm very curious to hear if anyone has any alternate takes, so please add your two cents in the comments. 

(And so we're clear: Yes, I know that even the slightest bit of scrutiny and understanding of Actual History reveals this mythology to be mostly false. That's a recurring theme in my book. But for now, I'm just interested in identifying what those Hero's Journey beats are, how the mythology is constructed.)

What to Pack For a North Pole Expedition, 100 Years Ago

Most travel experts recommend packing light, but some people cannot or will not follow this advice.

In the annals of extreme over-packers, you have two categories: Dandies and Badasses. Those who are perpetually ready to host the Queen and her entourage in their hotel rooms, and those who are, with no delusion, preparing to fight polar bears.

In the Dandy category is Temple Fielding, a prominent travel guidebook writer in the 1950s and 1960s (the man made the cover of Time, such was his fame). A long, long time (okay, five years) ago, I posted his packing list:

In [a large raffia basket] Fielding keeps a bottle of maraschino cherries, a bottle of Angostura biters, a portable Philips three-speed record-player, five records (four of mood music and "one Sinatra always"), a leather-covered RCA transistor radio, an old half-pint Heublein bottle full of vermouth, and a large nickel thermos with a wide mouth.

That's only the beginning. There are also thirty-five handkerchiefs, sealskin slippers, a yodeling alarm clock, and so much more. For years, I've considered this the Holy Grail of Packing Lists.

Until today, when I found a small article from 1917 about Arctic explorer and real-deal Badass Roald Amundsen's provisions for his expedition to the Northeast Passage.

Amundsen was planning to be gone for six years, in one of the least-known and most foreboding corners of the planet, and evidently operated on the principle that if was going to endure that, well, he was going to require certain luxuries.

Namely, he and his crew needed their candy. Six hundred pounds of it.

Also two tons of coffee and two tons of sugar.

Here's the full list, from the Princeton (Minnesota) Union on January 25, 1917:

The expedition lasted from 1918 to 1920--not six years, but it was no less epic (a word I do not use lightly) for the shorter duration. The ship was stuck in the ice for two winters and Amundsen really was attacked by a polar bear. I imagine him stumbling back to the ship after that close encounter, bloody and bewildered, and opening up his candy stash and just shoveling it in his mouth, presumably with a large whisky chaser.

--
You can see the full newspaper page via the "Chronicling America" database operated by the Library of Congress. The big story on the left is what I was actually trying to find, before this story caught my eye. Also note the intriguing headline to just below Amundsen's packing list!

#AWP15: A Minneapolis Guide From an Actual Local

Hello there, Literary People. Welcome to Minneapolis.

You may be wondering: Will I meet Prince? Will I have to get around via sled dog? Do all the local restaurants serve Jell-O or just most of them? Will I spot Prince riding a dogsled and eating purple Jell-O and maybe some raspberry sorbet (pun!)? Because that's totally an essay I want to write for The Awl.

Well. I’m Doug. I’ve lived here my whole life, and I have answers and guidance for you. 

(Also, while I have your attention, please come to a reading that I’m doing, along with eight other travel writers, at a bar called Honey on Saturday at 4pm. More details below.)

General Things to Keep in Mind

• The weather's gonna change in five minutes. The forecast calls for temps ranging from the upper 20s to the mid-70s so . . . yeah, that’s how it goes. Welcome. Be prepared for anything.
• Minnesotans are friendly, so don’t hesitate to ask anyone for directions and such.
• We’re also not yokels and though we can joke about eating Jell-O and living in igloos, we'd rather you didn't make Flyover Country quips or, worse, express astonishment that there's diversity and culture and even ONE OF THE BEST MODERN ART MUSEUMS IN THE WORLD OUT HERE IN THE HINTERLANDS, WOW! Seriously, if anyone says anything like that, I swear to God we'll . . . scowl imperceptibly as we give you directions and welcome you to our city and tell you about last night's hockey game. 
• We're also quite passive-aggressive. 
• The best way to see the city is on a bike. (See "Getting Around," below.)
• Know the key phrases:
• Saint Paul is, to hear most Minneapolitans describe it, a mythical land at the edge of the known universe, rumored to hold such enchantments as the state capitol, professional hockey, and unicorns. I can verify that, in fact, Saint Paul is both real and wonderful. You should take the time to head east and explore Minneapolis's twin city (see "Other Things to See and Do). 
• Nicollet Mall is the main downtown eating/shopping street, near the Convention Center. Say it the local, definitely-not-French way: "NICK-o-lit" or "NICK-uh-lit."
• A Jucy (or Juicy) Lucy is the local contribution to the culinary universe. Basically, a cheeseburger with the cheese inside. Do eat one, even if you're a hard-core granola-and-sprouts type. They're greasy manna. Don't make the rookie mistake of biting into it immediately after it arrives, unless you want third-degree burns on your tongue. Wait a minute. 
• Nordeast is the area just across the river from downtown Minneapolis. 
• Uptown is actually south of downtown by a few miles. I know, New Yorkers. Hush. 
• The River is the Mississippi. It's a great place to go and brood and calm your neurotic, bookish mind. 
• "That's interesting" or "That's different" are our passive-aggressive ways of saying, basically, WTF. These are both strong, negative reactions, though only when said with a particular flat tone or a big, fake smile. If it's a genuine smile, we probably mean it's actually interesting or different. Good luck trying to discern between the two. 

And now, a brief interlude in which a local sage named Slug explains Minneapolitans' low-key pride in their city:

Getting Around

• We've got buses and light rail (see Metrotransit.org for schedules). Buses require exact change (or rather, they don’t GIVE change, so if all you’ve got is a fiver, it’ll be an expensive trip). Each light rail stop has ticket kiosks that accept credit cards. Once you've paid for a ride, you're good for unlimited rides on all buses and trains for two and a half hours. 
• You tend to find cabs only at designated taxi stands, e.g. at hotels. Finding one downtown is easy. Anywhere else, you'll probably have to make a phone call.
• Get on a bike. The Nice Ride bike-sharing program just reopened for the season. We’ve got a (really, truly) world-class system of parks and parkways and trails, so it’s a great town for two-wheeled exploring, especially outside the downtown core.
• Get in the skyways. If you're on foot and if it’s cold or rainy or you just feel like a trippy and Very Minneapolis experience, you can see much of downtown via the skyways, a sort of hamster Habitrail for humans, with shops and restaurants and such. The geography of the skyways is haphazard and confusing and your phone map probably won’t help you, but there are large maps posted all over the place or you can use the SkywayMyWay app. The skyways connect to the Convention Center and are open 6:30am-10:00pm.

Eating & Drinking

To eat like a local, you'll need to have a Jucy Lucy and drink one of our many fine local beers (e.g. Surly or Summit). 

The Convention Center area, like its counterparts across the globe, is surrounded by overpriced and largely mediocre restaurants. But there are some good options within walking distance:

• Hell's Kitchen  serves up some local specialties like bison burgers and walleye and . . . kangaroo sliders. They're best known for their breakfast and brunch. Also: excellent happy hour deals. Their sibling, Angel Food Bakery, is a nice spot for a buttery, sugary midday snack. 
• Vincent A Restaurant is French and fancy and expensive, but their bar is French and fancy  and reasonably priced, and offers the very best gourmet Juicy Lucy in town ($8 during happy hour). And at $13.50, their two-course lunch is a hell of a deal for what you get.
• Barrio is kinda loud and crowded but worth it for the food. If it's warm, their outside seating area is one of the best in town, right on Nicollet Mall. Another good happy hour spot.
• For cheaper eats, head to the food trucks along Marquette Avenue at lunch, or to the myriad restaurants along Nicollet Avenue south of Grant Street (e.g. Salsa a la Salsa and Market Barbecue). My favorite food truck, Velee Deli, just opened Real Shop in the skyway. 

Farther afield, the best places to sample the full culinary wealth of Minneapolis is the Midtown Global Market, which has tons of food stands, with solid representation from the city's large Mexican, Vietnamese, Somali, and Indian communities. (True fact: Anthony Bourdain says we have the best Vietnamese food in the USA.)

Nicollet Avenue south of downtown, all the way to Lake Street, is known as "Eat Street" and also has a long, long roster of restaurants. Hop on the 18 bus on Nicollet. Try Quang or Jasmine 26 for Vietnamese, or Harry Singh's Original Caribbean Restaurant (get the roti) or Glam Doll Donuts.

Or head across the river to East Hennepin Avenue (via buses 10 or 17), where you can go old-school at Kramarczuck's Eastern European deli or drink at a time-warp of a bar, Nye's Polonaise Room (named Esquire's "Best Bar in America" a few years back and closing this year after a long, long run; cozy up to the piano bar while you can). My own favorite restaurant in town, Brasa (Caribbean comfort food by a Beard-Award-winning chef) is also over there.

UPDATE: If you're vegan, Glam Doll Donuts and Brasa (noted above) are two excellent options, as are Pizza Luce and French Meadow. Thanks to Susan for adding this in the comments.

Juicy Lucy. The specific grease alchemy going on here actually makes it
good for you. True. Kim via Wikimedia Commons

Other Things to See and Do

• Nicollet Island, which looks like a twee little village hidden in the shadow (almost literally) of downtown Minneapolis. Most locals don't even know about it. (Here's a thing I wrote about it.) 
• Make a pilgrimage to Open Book, the heart of the Minneapolis literary scene, housing The Loft Literary Center, Milkweed Editions, and Minnesota Center for the Book Arts, which has a small but superb gift shop with all manner of artistic books and book-making supplies and generally Really Effing Cool Stuff for any literary types.
• Check out the lakes (south of downtown) or the downtown riverfront, with its old mills and the landmark Stone Arch Bridge.
• The Mill City Museum is right along the riverfront, in the ruin of an General Mills "A" Mill, which was once the largest flour mill in the world. A genuinely fascinating and well-curated sort of place, it tells the history of Minneapolis, the history of milling, and how those two histories are intertwined. Also, they have a baking lab, where you get to sample the end result of the milling process: cookies.
• The Walker Art Museum, at the very edge of downtown (walkable from the Convention Center if you're up for some exercise) is the aforementioned One of the Finest Modern Art Museums in the World; its free Sculpture Garden is also a marvel of a public space.
• The Minneapolis Institute of Arts is . . . honestly, not that different from other big-city museums. Greek statues, European Master paintings, some American stuff. World-class, don't get me wrong, but not necessarily more exciting than other museums you've seen. But, ahem, admission is totally free. And the Prairie School design section shows off our iconic homegrown aesthetic. So there's that.
• First Ave, the club that Prince made famous, is in downtown Minneapolis. You should probably go take a gander. 
• UPDATE: Go to Saint Paul. I left this off the first time around, because it's actually not that easy to get from the Convention Center area to the most interesting parts of Saint Paul if you don't have a car. But then Nick Coleman (a longtime local newspaper columnist I've long admired and who I honestly can't believe saw this post) commented below and ... Well, he's right, you should make time for Saint Paul. Best thing to do, if you have a few hours and want to explore our twin to the east, is to hop on the light rail Green Line and head down University Avenue. For an offbeat experience, get off at Snelling and go to Ax-Man Surplus Store, purveyors of all manner of odd and wonderful and just plain confusing stuff. It's like Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore crossed with a Radio Shack crossed with some sort of surrealist toy store. Also: lots of delicious food nearby, like On's Kitchen Thai Cuisine.

Also . . .

I'm reading with eight other travel writers, and you should come! Free and open to the public, at a sweet subterranean bar called Honey--drink a cocktail, hear some tales from across the globe. It'll be a grand ol' time. Saturday, April 11th, 4-6pm. More details on the Facebook event page.

Honey is across the street from Nye's Polonaise Room, so come hear some travel stories and then head across the street to drink and polka with a cross-section of Minneapolis. (Map/directions.)

click to enlarge

Want to know how to get Twins tickets, where to find the best Jucy Lucy, or why you must never, ever utter the word "casserole"? The comments are open; ask away!

End of the Road: Notes on Wrapping Up a Tour of the Territories

Back when I was an American Studies major at Carleton College, we had departmental t-shirts that said, “Gone looking for America. Back in five minutes.”

It was a joke, of course, but even as we acknowledged the incredible complexity of “looking for” this nation, this shared experience, the fact is that we overlooked many of the myriad chapters of the American Story—people, cultures, places.

For one thing, we never once studied the United States beyond the states, which is to say the territories (and the commonwealths and the freely associated states; I'm mostly going to use "territories" as a catch-all below).

Over the past year, I’ve been trying to remedy that immense gap in my understanding of the nation. The voyage has taken just a bit longer than five minutes and has involved flying more than 31,000 miles, to the farthest-flung specks of American soil. Across the International Dateline. Across the equator.

Like the nation itself, this road trip has been wonderful and weird and sometimes kinda heartbreaking.

And tomorrow, it’s done. I fly back to icy Minneapolis. To write and stay put for a while and relax at home with Maren. There’s no place like home; I think I heard that somewhere.

But for another 24 hours, I’m here in Vieques, a “double territory,” as one local described it—officially part of Puerto Rico but sorta not quite, just as Puerto Rico is officially part of the USA, but sorta not quite. It’s a quiet, end-of-the-road sort of place, with wild horses and a beached sailboat rusting on the waterfront and a bioluminescent bay that made me giggle with wonder as I kayaked around it last night, plus areas where you can’t go because there’s live ordnance still lying around from the decades when the Navy used Vieques as a bombing range (they finally stopped in 2003, after it became an international cause).



Tonight, I’m going to put on my one pair of long pants and the least-wrinkly shirt in my backpack and treat myself to a nice meal. I’m going to toast the territories and the people I’ve met along the way.

In the movies, this would be the part where there’s a blurred-edge montage of memories and poignant moments. Of the tiny villages and polyglot cities-of-the-future and treacherous jungle roads and transcendent sunsets. Of the people I met: the former Marines and environmentalists and traditional sailors who navigate by stars. The radio DJs and musicians and tattoo artists and factory workers. The government officials and end-of-the-road hippie dropouts and football coaches. The random passersby on streets, in restaurants, at a nondescript convenience store in the Puerto Rican town of Arroyo. The chef who invited me into his restaurant so he could sing me some Bob Dylan (after a round of shots for everyone, of course).

I’m profoundly grateful to everyone who offered insights, travel tips, books, drinks, tours, and/or a place to stay. Thank you all. Thanks so much. Your hospitality and assistance and insights are what made this journey so grand.



Thirty-one thousand miles works out to nearly three times around the perimeter of the Contiguous 48 states. It’s the sort of distance that makes you expect that, in all that time, you’d wind up somewhere with giraffes or castles or, you know, not a United States post office. But there was USPS, every single time. And I never had to change currency or get a visa. I know how this works, and I now know why and how the USA came to be involved with each of these places, yet it still amuses and confuses me to be so far from home yet able to send a postcard for 34 cents.

Maybe it’ll never quite make sense to me. I’m still processing it all, and I shared very little from the road here on the blog (though I’m better at Twitter, FYI). I’m saving the big stories and insights for the book (next year …).

For now, though, I offer you a quick trip recap by the numbers.



Miles flown: More than 31,000

Flights taken: 18, by my best count, but maybe more.

Miles driven: Dunno. But hundreds.

Cars rented: 6

Cars majorly scratched up on narrow mountain roads: 1

Total number of islands on which I set foot: 14 (Saint Thomas, Saint Croix, Saint John, Tutuila, Anu’u, Guam, Saipan, Tinian, Chuuk, Pohnpei, Kwajalein, Majuro, Puerto Rico, Vieques)

Times I crossed the equator: 2 (to/from American Samoa)

Times I crossed the International Dateline: 2 (to/from Guam and the Northern Mariana Islands)

Places visited, in order: US Virgin Islands (territory), American Samoa (territory), Guam (territory), Northern Mariana Islands (commonwealth), Chuuk (airplane layover, so probably shouldn’t count as a visit; freely associated state), Pohnpei (ibid on both counts), Marshall Islands (freely associated state), Puerto Rico (commonwealth).

Number of times I was corrected in the commonwealths for using the word territory: More than a few.

Official distinction between the two: Commonwealths have sliiightly more autonomy (and are not considered colonies by the UN, though the territories are).

Actual distinction, if we’re being honest: Really not much at all.

(And what of the freely associated states? They’re technically autonomous nations, but use US Postal Service, US currency, FEMA disaster relief, and are in many ways quasi-territories.)

Extreme points of the USA visited: southernmost (American Samoa), westernmost (Guam), easternmost (Virgin Islands)

Local cheap beers consumed: Um. Quite a few.

Tasting notes: Cheap beer tastes pretty the same the world over. Pretty sure they're all actually bottled in the same place.

Local pastries consumed: Again, quite a few. Highlights include a coconut-filled doughnut in American Samoa and a guava pastry in Puerto Rico.

Oddest drink consumed: Mavi in Puerto Rico (made with fermented bark; there’s a similar drink called mawbi in the USVI, but it tastes a lot better)

Food I’m most glad I didn’t have to try: Purple sea worms in American Samoa, which were not in season.

Place that most scared me: The former air force base on Tinian, where all the buildings and bunkers and tanks and runways still remain, slowly being taken over by the jungle. I poked my head inside a pitch-dark bunker and something moved and I sprinted the hell away from there.

Teeny-tiny airplanes flown on: 6

Number of flights on the world’s most dangerous regularly-scheduled air route: 2

Windy, potholed, scary-as-hell mountain roads driven: Countless.

Times lost on said roads: A whoooole lot

Long mountain-hikes completed: 2

Territories in which I saw a baseball stadium: 4

Territories in which I saw a cricket ground: 2

Average cost of a gas of gallon: At least 50% more than in Minnesota

Mix of convenience-store food aisles between American and non-American calorific snax: precisely half and half, in each place.

Territories that played a role in World War II: All of them.

Territories that were active battlegrounds in World War II: Guam and Northern Marianas (and American Samoa, in the sense that there was one mortar fired).

Territories with considerable lingering signs of other colonial rulers: 4 (Denmark in the USVI; Spain in Puerto Rico, Guam, and the Northern Marianas; Japan in Guam and the Northern Marianas).

Earliest date of acquisition of current territories: 1898 (Guam, Puerto Rico, via the Spanish-American War).

Latest date of official acquisition of current territories: 1978 (Northern Marianas, although they’d been under US rule as part of the United Nations Trust Territories since the end of World War II).

Hats lost: 4

Hats found with my last name on them: 1. On a remote mountain trail in American Samoa, right after my guide was talking about the mischievous local ghosts, and I’m still unnerved by the whole thing.

Guns fired: 1. With Japanese tourists on Guam. There are a bunch of gun ranges where tourists from Japan, China, and Russia go to have the quintessential American experience of dressing up like cowboys and shooting guns.

Hello Kitty gelatos consumed in the shade of a large luxury-good shopping mall (outside the Gucci store, to be specific) immediately after firing a gun: 1

WTF moments: Countless.

Rank of the barbecue on Guam among the best I’ve ever had: Right up there, top two or three. If there were any justice, this would be considered with Kansas City and Memphis and Texas among the nation’s great barbecue hotspots.

Salsa lessons taken: 1

Salsa lessons utterly failed: 1

Unspeakably beautiful sunsets observed: So, so many.

Unspeakably beautiful sunsets interrupted by marching, chanting Marines and a (toy) drone flying overhead: 1

Date by which I have to process all of this and write it into something cohesive and not overly long, and submit a manuscript: June 1st. Wish me luck.