Posts Tagged With: vegan

Oregon Trail: Boulder 1


Day 3: An Uncanny Self

Date: April 20, 2012
Journey: Fort Collins, CO to Boulder, CO
Total miles: 1,079 miles (39.6 mpg)

Continued from part 1

III. Age, Race, & Class

My time with Krista ended at the tasting room of the smaller, but still popular, Odelle Brewing Company. There I had the much talked about 90 Schilling (amber ale) and a taste of Krista’s $15 chemistry set of beers they called a taster tray. My personal favorite was one of the darker ones, but alas, I forgot.

Meanwhile, she, her roommate and I made some conversation over our beers. I had mentioned how much I liked Fort Collins so far, but that it felt almost too cozy. It was too white and affluent for me… what a thing to complain about! Her roommate was several years older than us and didn’t feel the same as Krista and I about wanting a more diverse home. She mentioned how she had already explored different cultural experience, had gotten her taste, had been transformed, and now wanted a comfy place to settle down. She wanted comfort and security, a home, a family, and maybe kids. Something didn’t jibe with me about the way she was addressing multiculturalism, and I had a feeling Krista felt the same, but Krista was a courteous, kind friend and a diplomat. I was a philosopher.

“I don’t want to live in a perfect bubble. I feel responsible to transform the world, and I cannot do that from a bubble. To change the world, we must work with, not for others, and that means dwelling with them. And who am I to advocate changing the world if I am not also willing to risk myself? Not necessarily my life, but my identity. I grow bored and sick with myself when I stagnate. I want transformation. I don’t see unsettlement as always a threat. Often it is a promise for liberation.” She patiently listened as she bit down on her artisinal cheese. Krista said she felt similarly. She wasn’t looking for security either. Her roommate said she used to feel the same way, but attitudes change as one gets older. Would we feel similarly when we were in our thirties?

By the time we returned to their home to pick up my car, I had a lot to drink, but my filling lunch tapered-off the affect of the alcohol. Too their extreme delight, more alcohol awaited us. Her roommate’s father from the Northshore of Chicago had shipped her two boxes of wine from his wine cellar. Thirty bottles laid inside each box, each worth–according to the roommate–an average of $30. Some were decades in age. I figured after the shipping, the whole shipment cost $1,000… just for wine. I was irritated, angry, and a little disgusted.

They were both so giddy with glee, but that’s not what scratched underneath my skin. It was the second day in a row that I found myself confronted with my class privilege and guilt. I was disgusted with myself, my situation. Back in Chicago and Texas I hung out with people from more modest means, but the people from my past were wrapped up in the same social networks of private higher education as I was. It was a revolving door one gets swept up into, but one is fooled into thinking one got inside because of one’s fine skill. It was not so much accomplishment though as it was privilege–the otherside of class oppression. My situation was inescapable, I knew that; but finding myself more aware than ever before of privilege made me feel guilty by proximity. I once lived with gleeful ignorance. I was like that. And now that I was a different person, what had changed. What had I done to bring justice besides “raise consciousness”? I felt just as guilty of the omission of action, more unaccomplished and fake. I couldn’t wait to leave for the next stop on my itinerary.

IV. Boulder: First Impressions on 4:20

I

Galaxy directed Catbird and I down CO-119. When we passed through a buzzing, affluent strip of a town, I thought I had arrived in Boulder, but it was actually another medium-sized city called Longmount. Fort Collins had already impressed me with its vistas of the foothills of the Rockies, but as I continued south-west, the foothills grew closer and larger. The higher-grade roads felt like roller coasters. Catbird accelerated down the slopes with ease, veering toward the sharp contrast in the horizon of puffy white clouds, deep blue sky, and green textured mountains. Entering town and taking a right onto Alex’s street, my lips curled into a smile. The grandeur of the beauty brought instant joy. I was in the mountains. I was in this legendarily awesome city. I was hanging out with awesome people and eating great food. Le sigh.

Alex welcomed me into her apartment. She had just returned from the campus square, eaves-dropping on the annual 4:20 celebration. I originally planned on arriving early to report on it and it’s history on campus as well as its contemporary suppression by the police, but I was bourg-ing on microbrews and I, as a foreigner, was not allowed on campus during the event. This year, Alex told me, was more dispersed. The loom of pot smoke wasn’t nearly as large as it had been in previous years. I hadn’t missed much. With that said, Alex took me to Pearl Street, a cosmopolitan strip of cute, locally-owned shops and restaurants. This section of Boulder immediately reminded me of Ithaca, a mountain college town in the glaciated hills of upstate New York along Cayuga Lake.

She was leaving in several weeks to start her summer job as a tour guide for an American travel company that took young Europeans and Japanese folk on an adventure across the American West through our National Parks. I had already planned my own trip and was doing it solo, but Alex had always been an inspiration and a bit of a trip adviser. If it weren’t for her, I probably would have passed through Page, AZ and Kanab, UT and missed out on their grand beauty. After she completed her summer, she had just a little bit of school left and then another 6 months or so “training” microorganisms to eat toxic and man-made chemicals in the southern seas around Antarctica.

If it isn’t obvious, Alex has pretty good taste and it was this taste that drew her to Boulder to attend school. Boulder: a city hording gorgeous people, shops, bike lanes, and foothills. It was almost too good to be true. Almost. My friend Emma who had attended school here was able to articulate my sentiments exactly: Boulder is a retirement home for hippies–white dudes in dreads in the haughtiest eco-fashion, women flashing their brilliant, perfect white smiles, and  children running around as free spirits without threat of any disciplining. In appearance, it’s as close to a utopia one can imagine a non-intentional community/development could be. The happiness was contagious, and although I wasn’t immune, I became adverse. Boulder had struck a chord. But why? Continue reading

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Categories: Food & Drink, Oregon Trail 2012, Review, Travel Narrative | Tags: , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Oregon Trail: Fort Collins


Day 3: An Uncanny Self

Date: April 20, 2012
Journey: Fort Collins, CO to Boulder, CO
Total miles: 1,079 miles (39.6 mpg)

I. Virtually Dead

I was alive! I had just woken up in Catbird during a large storm. Somehow I had managed to squeeze in a nap at one of the absolutely worst times. Catbird was veering down I-25 toward Fort Collins at about 55 miles an hour and I had gotten a head start on ending the night.

I should have probably took my mom’s advise and not driven at night, but this kind of thing even happens during the day. I carried a Monster energy in the car for these occasions, but was to confident in my ability to stay up to drink it. I’d like to think that my years playing F-Zero for the SNES, in which I somehow still came in first after zoning out during several laps on easier tracks, saved my life. But given that scoring 200s in Wii Bowling did not improve my game in the real world in the slightest. I’ll have to be find more justifications for my obsession with video games… and drive more responsibly.

II. Birds of a Feather

The funny thing about the internet, and Facebook more specifically, is that it can make special occasions banal. For instance, when I arrived at Krista’s door and said hello, it had been six years since we had talked face to face and exchanged more than a couple sentences at a time; yet, it felt so “normal.” It reminds me of those times when I return home to Duke after being a part for nine months and he seems almost unphased, but when an absolute stranger comes to the door, he gets dogshit excited. (Now that I made the analogy, I realize it’s not a very good one. I could delete it, but I like that I reference Duke in this post). The point that I’m not trying to make but am is that I’m perpetually alienated from my experiences. I don’t take reality at face value. Perhaps that’s why I like philosophy.

Krista wasn’t a philosopher, but she was into environmental and women’s studies and that’s one reason I liked her so much. She’s also really friendly and pretty cute. She had gotten involved with owl research in California on disease in Barred and Spotted Owls and was invited to apply to  CSU-Fort Collins where she is working on a masters degree in wildlife management She wanted to pursue her next degree in a different field to work on the impact of the environment on women’s health issues (This could be all wrong. I’ve been taking terrible notes and it’s been two busy weeks later). I asked her what perspective her women’s studies background provided her in her program, but she didn’t have much to say about it other than that it was still a bit of a boy’s club.

Before spooning her guest mattress, I met her roommate who also happened to be from a neighboring suburb of Chicago. At the time, it didn’t register to me how close it was to my home–partly because I never went there and also because I was really tired. Krista offered me a drink. We all laughed.

The next morning I treated myself to a shower. A little 3-minute hourglass suction-cupped to the tile wall made me smile as I got in, but guilty after coming out long after the sand hand emptied into the bottom. Thereafter, Krista introduced me to her backyard chickens. Actually, they were a friends. She was chicken-sitting. (I just had a terrible and perverse image pass through my mind after I said that out loud). She, her roommate, and her roommate’s boyfriend were thinking of getting their own chickens, however. (I later learned that her roommate had met her partner at the time when he was her TA. It was a scandal I could relate to.) They lived in a really nice house. Part of what made the house so cozy were all the animals. Not only the chickens outside but a couple cats and a deaf dog. “You must be so happy to be living with all these animals,” I asked in the form of a truth statement. She was, but it could also be a lot of work.

III. A Taste of Fort Collins

Speaking of which, Krista had to run to her lab on campus and bring her bike in for repairs. We had just enough time for lunch. The detour gave me an opportunity to get a limited perspective of the town I once considered living for grad school. Fort Collins has a special feel. It’s brisk, the people are laid back and they wear casual workout and camping gear. Oh, and the city’s/state’s car is the Subaru Outback (Krista and her roommate each had one). The downtown area seemed pretty new, yet rustic and cozy. The thought passed through my mind that this may be somewhere I could call home.

REVIEW: Indeed, if Tasty Harmony, the local vegan restaurant, was as tasty as it advertised itself to be, perhaps I could be persuaded. I was really impressed with the interior design of the space. The relaxed earthy colors and textures and oriental decor rang with a healthy, spiritual vibe. Just like the rest of Fort Collins, the place was super cozy and the wait staff were very kind, hippie-esque folk. Fortunately, I had already predestined my meal so I needed not spend an hour slobbering over the menu. (The waitress tried to dissuade me with the special, but I wouldn’t budge). Kentucky Fried Freedom it was. Krista stuck with the Tempeh Reuben she had enjoyed last time. The KFF did not appear to be that big of a meal (by my standards)l: there were only two “chicken” pieces, a scoop of grave, potato, pinto beans, and sauteed greens, however, the gluten “chicken” and the rest was very filling. Krista, too, was filled by her sandwich. Having been spoiled at Chicago Diner for several months, the KFF did not blow me away, but the “chicken” and gravy were pretty tasty. The Reuben also scored on texture and flavor, but did not impress. I ordered a chocolate chip to go, which was a delicious way to end our meal. Each item hit the golden mean of chew and moisture. Overall, Tasty Harmony scores very high on atmosphere and service, high on taste and hunger satisfaction, but a tad high on price. In any case, I highly recommend hitting it up if you are in Fort Worth. <4.5 carrots out of 5>.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Next stop: New Belgium Brewery. Word on the street was that Fort Collins didn’t sport many attractions, but if there was one you had to experience, it was New Belgium. Founded in 1991, this Colorado microbrewery broke out onto the scene with its amber ale, Flat Tire–a common beer on tap or in bottle at many many bars. A combination of their notoriety and the IPA trend, their Ranger is also another crowd pleaser. Despite their large size, New Belgium has a good reputation for sustaining its environmental and social values. The brewery itself was designed to minimize its environmental impact and after several years of employment, workers receive a NBB bike. As is the case with Odelle, NBB refers to its employees as co-workers.

I wasn’t thinking ahead and almost missed out on my opportunity to see the birthplace of Fat Tire and family. It was a Thursday, but tours are FREE–yes, you read that correctly–and fill up days in advance. Luckily, Krista and I were able to get walk-in tickets to the next tour (which runs every 30minutes for an 1.5 hours).  The inside of the building was beautiful. The colors and textures were vibrant and relaxed blues, greens, yellows, and reds. Their tasting room featured 11 of their year-round brews and another three from their Lips of Faith series. Three dimensional found art collages made from bike gears, wood, and obsolete technology adorned the walls. The inside was brightly lit by outdoor lighting. Near the entrance, one could purchase recycled rubber dog leashes and frisbees among other cool merchandise. Even more impressive, the front room had a twisty slide and a stand filled with NBB postcards that they’d send anywhere in the country for free. I decided to buy a Fat Tire Frisbee as a souvenir and sent my friend in Texas, a beer snob, a little message.

The tour began in a large room with two long wooden tables filled with NBB memorabilia underneath the glass top. There were seats and glasses for forty guests. Our tour guide was an energetic, peppy, round blonde from Indiana. She almost charmed all our pants off, we had such a huge crush on her by the end. Good thing we didn’t get more drunk. On the tour we had at least five four-ounce tastings: Dig, Shift, Biere de Mars, Abbie Grand Cru (their first beer), La Folie (sour). I can’t recall what each one tasted like, but the sour was my favorite. I had never been adventurous enough to try a sour before, but this one was free, was given a perfect score by professional beer drinkers, and our guide was hella cute. It had the smooth, bitter bite and sparkle of a good hard apple cider. Definitely my favorite of everything I’ve had by NBB. By the end of the tour, we had been given the brewery’s history, a discussion of the brewing process at the two-story-tall vats, a discussion of the bottling and distribution philosophy, and a ride down the twisty slide. Our guide was right: don’t touch the steel slide with your arms on the way down or you will bleed. I found out the fool’s way.

Categories: Food & Drink, Oregon Trail 2012, Review, Travel Narrative | Tags: , , , , | 1 Comment

Road Reflections: Sex, Death, and Love


Introduction:

The solitude of the open road can be an experience rich in thought and emotion. Being alone in on the rorad can be a meditative exercise. The zen of driving, if you will.

It’s sometimes surprising how many prematurely ended thoughts bubble up to the surface of consciousness during moments of solitude. Yet, people do not expect this and perhaps even fear it. I’m going to refer back to Sherry Turkle’s TED talk on being “connected, but alone.”  One excellent point she makes is that many of us in smart phone and facebook society are anxious to be-by-our-self. In this condition, people are afraid when they are not connected, afraid perhaps to think and reflect.

My first day on the road was not suffered with the boredom and exhaustion that others thought I’d experience. People were shocked that I wanted to travel alone over such long measurements of time and space. Driving alone seemed foolish to them. How exhausting! How boring! Iowa and Nebraska would surely put me to sleep. There was nothing around to look at and I had no one to speak with. Well, no one but myself.

I put my Samsung Galaxy SII to some good use by hitting the memo and voice command buttons to record short quips, and used the voice recorder to archive longer ones. The following “aphorisms” are more-or-less transcripts of I archived during those first eight hours and 500 miles:

On Insecticide and Responsibility:  As I drive through Iowa, my thoughts lead me to the concept of responsibility as dozens and dozens of insects splatter across my bumper and windshield. Can my road trip justify all this death? Is driving ever justified (if we take these insects into serious moral consideration)? Then again, isn’t death inevitable? Everything comes at a cost. These animals’ deaths seem excessive as I’m not even making use of their bodies, but I’m not sure if that makes much of a difference. In the end, lives are taken in the process of all lived experience.

Responsibility is thinking through that. When we want people to be responsible for killing animals, we desire that humans be social creatures and have in mind the consequences for other beings, which is itself an ethical relationship which is itself a social relationship. How do we inhabit the world with others without the same language? It’s a difficult question to answer. We are not able to talk with them in our language or relate to them in the same social manner as we do with other humans. Nevertheless, there is something already fundamentally social about the effort to empathize with and take others into consideration. Empathizing with animals requires a pre-understanding that we have a social relationship with other animals, but we disavow this at an early age. We don’t take this acknowledgement to its end as veganism. We want to feel good about our responsibility without taking it to its logical conclusion.

Thus, we say we care about animals, but without ever questioning where that care begins and ends. To “care” about animals without an effort toward veganism is mere rhetoric. It’s as if to say “I am human, thus I care… but I don’t care more because I am human and thus have a ‘personal choice’ of whether I care or not.” So care comes naturally as a byproduct of one’s humanity, but the negation of that care is even more decisively human because it’s an exercise of the agency of the liberal individual. Of course, this rhetoric is not “human(e),” because to care in such a way is inconsistent and obstructed by an illogical prejudice (specisism), which is a threat against reason which allows us choice and agency in the first place. In the end, caring-to-reason is trumped by rationalizations against caring, against thinking.

Meaningless Death: Death is just so abstract. How can one understand it? One can understand other things that seem incomprehensible, like the creation of life and life itself. They are pretty absurd, but at the same time we are living life. We see people born, and we can experience the miracle that life is, the unfathomability of chance is before our eyes. But we never live death. It’s never before our eyes. There is no reflection on death. One is just reflecting into the darkness. So maybe there is something profound there, realizing the inability of being able to comprehend death. People fool themselves into thinking they know what death is. There is an afterlife or we return to the earth. Spiritualism and materialism. But is there something beyond both those explanations? Is death incomprehensible beyond scientific and religious discourse? What’s difficult about death is the impossibility of making sense of it. And that’s why death is so threatening: it resists any attempt to make sense of it. It’s like yelling into an abyss. There is no answer, but only the echo of our voice whispering back in our skulls.

Love and the Proximity of Nihilism: I’ve been thinking a lot about the question of love. It seems like it has as much to to do with proximity to a person as their identity. Is that all it is? Is that meaningful? Isn’t our “love” different from the affection animals feel after being fed. We want something more transcendent and deeper, but what if that’s all it is? And maybe that’s what’s sad about it: maybe it’s my realization that that’s all it is and trying to make meaning of it without falling into cultural cliches of thinking “this is my mother so I must love her,” or “this is my mother and that’s why I love her”. There is the difficulty of accepting that if that’s what it is. But it’s very real. It’s not insignificant. Love is sharing one’s life with others. That’s who one is.

I think back to that post I wrote about my grandfather. My concern was that maybe I didn’t love people in my family because I didn’t feel how people are expected to feel as “good people”, and that if I felt anything it was because I could’t get past my narcissism–my sadness for myself that I cannot feel sad for them. But my perspective is changing today. Perhaps I’m afraid of expressing and experiencing that emotion, or maybe I do experience sadness in the face of another’s future death and its a very profound feeling. Perhaps, I understand death more essentially than others, as something more than the superficiality of an end of life. And if so, I shouldn’t assume I’m not capable of feeling love.

Motherly Love. Strangely, I’m prompted to reflect on my relationship to my mother as I listen to the soundtrack for the first Kill Bill. My mom went to see the first film with me, and she knew it would be violent and wouldn’t like it (in fact, she walked out at the beginning because it made her sick). Yet, she wanted me to be happy. She is almost always supporting me and doing everything she can. I would just hate myself if I didn’t appreciate all of it. But I don’t, and this insufficient appreciation is hard for me to accept.

What makes it difficult for me to appreciate is her babying me. You begin to resent someone who doesn’t let you be you. She thinks she always knows what’s better and safer for me. And yes, sometimes I mess up because I didn’t t take her advice. But I’d like be allowed to mess up. And I’d like to be able to discover things on my own and earn things on my own. So I think what I really resent is not her, but any felt dependency on her, the feeling of not being able to be my own person and that all the great things become spoiled by her overbearingness.

And that makes me think of my ex–how I gave her lots of advise and encouragement… like my mom… and could have been overbearing at times… and I feel really bad about it. This is a really profound and dreadful realization. It’s devastating because I was the culprit, and I played a role in obstructing my exes love of me, and now we can’t be friends anymore… And I can empathize with the last person I want to empathize with. What I realize now from all the pain I’ve experienced from my ex is that I need to treat my mom with more respect, so that I may be better (more responsible and empathetic) than my ex and myself. But it’s difficult to do that when someone persistently does not respect your integrity.




Sexual Dissatisfaction: Listening to the sexually vulgar lyrics on the final track on the second Kill Bill soundtrack, I reflect on my childhood and how much I wanted to have sex. My life was so focused around it. Much of it had to do with my identity as a male. I felt that a successful male was someone who had sex with lots of women. It’s now obviously how hetero-normative this narrative is and it’s inability to be relevant for all men. More so, however, I believed in that narrative because I was  really into “science,” especially evolutionary theory: having more sex meant more potential for offspring, which signifies that one is more fit, that one is a better person, that one has been chosen to have a stake in the future. So I felt like a complete failure within the evolutionary and patriarchal narratives by not having any sex.

Even to this day, I sometimes feel unsatisfied with the amount of sexual partners I’ve had. I think people place a great deal of value on their sex lives like I do because of  an insecurity with their self-worth. (So it’s not necessarily a masculinity issue. Today, women are judged for having too few and many sexual partners). So I think my high sexual drive is due to not only a desire for pleasure and experience, but also because of an insecurity with my self. Though, I don’t think these two things are so inseparable because I feel less valuable the more I “miss out” (i.e. the fear of missing out), the less “experiences” I have. But sex is different. It’s not just an experience, its about desire for another and their desire for you.

It feels so good to be attractive to a person you are attracted to and have respect for. It validates your self-worth. And when we discover someone slept with us as a means to an end and not because of the person we are, it feels “dirty,” or rather “meaningless.” We become so vulnerable in the act, emotionally and physically, that we open ourselves to hurt. We become even more humiliated because we feel not only undesired, but cheated and taken advantage of–duped into thinking that someone else thought we were valuable as a person, as a self.

I think back to that previous song on the soundtrack by Johnny Cash called “Satisfied Mind.” As long as I continually compared myself to others and understood myself through others, my satisfaction with life would be contingent upon circumstance and not with life itself. Having more or better sexual partners would never be sufficient. My worth has to be self-sufficient. And it’s that feeling of self-sufficiency that we call confidence, that quality which breeds sex.

Categories: Deep Thoughts, Essay, Oregon Trail 2012 | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Vegan Wild West Tour


One important rule of thumb for vegan traveling is to research food options in advance. While there are usually some “accidentally vegan” options at fast food joints that populate the exits of interstate highways, finding substantial and delectable vegan munchies can be difficult when traveling in rural territory. In addition to logistics, it is a lesser known fact that vegans love to schedule their travel around food. Taking a detour on a road trip is game when a vegan bakery is a 20 minute drive away.

Last week I took a few hours to search various websites that list vegan(-friendly) restaurants in the various cities I’ll be passing through.  I’ve come up with some pretty awesome results and will be excited to review these joints, some of which are in places less well traveled by vegans.

NEBRASKA:
Omaha:

  • McFoster’s Natural Kind Cafe (Sustainable: Blackened Tempeh Dinner)
  • McFoster’s is a vegetarian restaurant that serves free-range chicken dishes and fresh seafood. All our food are free of refined flour and sugars. We use organic produce from Tom and Mary’s garden and greenhouse, as well as other local and organic gardeners, whenever possible.
  • Jade Diner (Chinese)
  • Amsterdam (Middle Eastern)
  • China One (Chinese)

Lincoln:

 

COLORADO:
Ft. Collins:

  • Tasty Harmony (Kentucky Fried Freedom)
  • Tasty Harmony is committed to provide our community with healthy organic plant based cuisine. Most of our food is vegan and most of our desserts are wheat free and sugarcane free.
  • Avogadros (Tempeh Tacos & veggie chili)
  • Maza Kabob (Afghani)
  • Mugs

Boulder:

Denver:

  • Water Course (Vegetarian: Toulouse Scramble / Banana bread French Toast / Mesquite Tofu)
  • WaterCourse Food’s philosophy, like our food, is simple and accessible… We prepare fresh ingredients daily to produce incredibly satisfying vegetarian comfort foods in a welcoming environment served by a friendly and efficient wait staff for a reasonable price… By maintaining a completely vegetarian menu, we believe we minimize our environmental footprint and provide a welcome alternative to many restaurants in the city
  • Sputnik (Ethiopian Sliders)
  • Linger (Eclectic: Waffle Sweet potato fires / Mee Krob)
  • Govinda’s (Hare Krishna)
  • The Rebellion (Pizza)
  • Sweet Action (Ice Cream: vegan Carrot cake ice cream)
  • Beet Box Denver (Vegan Bakery)
  • Crazy Mae’s (Vegan Bakery)
  • Sunny Gardens (Chinese)
  • Vegan Van (Vegan Cart)
  • Atomic Tamale (Vegan Cart)
  • 27 Social Center

 

UTAH:
Salt Lake City:

Moab:

  • Peace Tree
  • Electrica Cafe
  • Love Muffin Cafe

 

ARIZONA:
Flagstaff:

  • Morning Glory Cafe
  • Macy’s

Sedona:

  • Chocola Tree (Veg Co-op: Sedona 2012)
  • ChocolaTree Cafe is 100% organic homemade with a delicious, diverse raw and cooked menu that’s entirely gluten and processed sugar-free..
  • Oaxaca

 

NEVADA:
Las Vegas:

 

CALIFORNIA:

San Fransisco & Oakland:

Arcata:

  • Wildflower Cafe (Vegetarian)
  • Bless My Soul (Creole)
  • Redds (Jamaican)
  • Tofu Hut

 

OREGON:
Medford:

Ashland:

Categories: Oregon Trail 2012 | Tags: , , | 1 Comment

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