A Few Days in Marrakech

It had been a few years since I’d taken an end-of-summer trip, but I’m really glad I took one this year! Like I mentioned, this summer was particularly crazy, and it felt great to really get a break from all that nuttiness.

I flew to London to meet my best friend, Shirin, who lives there. We spent two days walking and eating around the city (a little more about that in a coming post), and then took off to Morocco.

To be honest, I didn’t know what to expect. This was my first time traveling to Africa and my first time in a Muslim country. I knew that the temperature would rise to 100 degrees every day, but that we’d be pretty covered up whenever we were outside the hotels. I’d heard that the shopping is wonderful in the boutiques. And it seemed that Marrakech and Essaouira, the two cities we were visiting, were pretty touristy and that safety wasn’t a concern.

But I wasn’t prepared for just how hectic the medina would be.

Hotels in Marrakech seemed to fall into three categories. Riads are traditional Moroccan houses that have multiple rooms built around a courtyard. Most riad hotels are in the medina, which is the walled, maze-like, old part of town. Then, there are the luxury hotel compounds, insulated from the outside world, with their gardens and large pools. And finally, there are some standard, western-style hotels in the “new” part of the city.

We opted to stay in the medina, at Riad Al Ksar. We thought we’d have a more authentic experience by going traditional and staying within the medina walls.

Riad Al Ksar was located down this alley, in the southeast section of the medina.

Marrakech Alley | nycexpeditionist.com

Luckily, the hotel, itself, was a bit nicer than the alley!

There was a tiny pool in the courtyard and also a rooftop terrace.

Riad Al Ksar, Marrakech | nycexpeditionist.com

Rooms were comfortable but without any frills.

We spent our first day getting acquainted with the area. We walked to Jemaa el-Fnaa, the large public square filled with street performers, juice vendors and souvenir hawkers.

Jemaa el-Fnaa | nycexpeditionist.com

We had a tagine lunch at one of the restaurants on the square, then walked to the Koutoubia minaret…

Koutoubia minaret, Marrakech | nycexpeditionist.com

…and nearby gardens.

Gardens near Koutoubia minaret, Marrakech | nycexpeditionist.com

By that point, the high afternoon sun and heat were getting to us. We had to take frequent shade breaks whenever we could.

On the walk back to the hotel, we stopped at the Bahia Palace, which was a beautiful sanctuary with orange trees and ornate tile work.

Bahia Palace | nycexpeditionist.com

Bahia Palace | nycexpeditionist.com

Bahia Palace | nycexpeditionist.com

Tiles at the Bahia Palace | nycexpeditionist.com

Unfortunately, I was so exhausted from walking in the heat, that I barely took any photos! From the looks of the other palace visitors, they were feeling the same way. People were sprawled out in every shady corner of the courtyard.

Later that evening, we went to dinner at Dar Essalam, a restaurant in the medina that our hotel proprietor recommended. (He actually had a very strong opinion about everything we wanted to do—and nothing was positive! On the first day, we took all of his suggestions, even canceling the dinner reservations we’d made in advance. By the second and third days, we decided that we’d see what we wanted to see and eat what we wanted to eat, whether or not he deemed the places “rubbish.” I love getting recommendations from locals, but there’s also something to be said about the places you discover on your own.)

Dar Essalam didn’t look like much from the outside. But inside, it was like a palace! Room after room was decked out with carved wood and tile mosaics.

Dar Essalam Restaurant, Marrakech | nycexpeditionist.com

It was clearly a touristy place, with musicians, belly dancers and a woman who danced with a platter of candles on her head. But the food wasn’t bad! The couscous and egg/meatball tagine were simple and straightforward.

Dar Essalam Restaurant, Marrakech | nycexpeditionist.com

Afterwards, we went to Jemaa El-Fna again. At night, food vendors set up shop and cook elaborate meals.

Food vendor at Jemaa El-Fna, Marrakech | nycexpeditionist.com

Food vendor at Jemaa El-Fna, Marrakech | nycexpeditionist.com

Food vendor at Jemaa El-Fna, Marrakech | nycexpeditionist.com

Unfortunately, it was impossible to enjoy the experience. The men working the stalls were so aggressive that we couldn’t even glance at their food before they would start harassing us to come over.

Food vendor at Jemaa El-Fna, Marrakech | nycexpeditionist.com

This proved to be a huge problem for us, everywhere in the medina.

Walking through it was not fun. In fact, it was pretty horrible. The streets were narrow, dusty and uneven. Motorcycles, cars and bikes sped around corners and flew through alleys, just barely missing people. (Shirin actually got nicked by a motorcyclist one time.) Because of our riad’s location, we had to walk about 20-25 minutes to get anywhere. And the ENTIRE time, men from the stalls we passed harassed us. Not just once or twice—it was relentless. (Because I’m Asian, I got a constant stream of: “Helllllllllllllllllloooooooooo, Japan.” “Konichiwa.” “Arigato.” “Where are you from?”)

Did I mention that it was also 100 degrees…and we were wearing long sleeves and pants…and I was in a full boot?

I don’t think we would’ve had the same experience if we were two dudes, of if there were a man with us. Needless to say, we weren’t able to do any shopping in the medina.

The next day, we already needed a break from it.

We headed to Yves Saint Laurent’s Jardin Majorelle in the “new” part of town. (i.e. outside the medina.)

The gardens were beautiful!

Jardin Majorelle, Marrakech | nycexpeditionist.com

Jardin Majorelle, Marrakech | nycexpeditionist.com

And, more importantly, peaceful.

Jardin Majorelle, Marrakech | nycexpeditionist.com

Jardin Majorelle, Marrakech | nycexpeditionist.com

We enjoyed every second of being there, taking in the gorgeous plant life and snapping pictures. Every turn was a photo op!

Jardin Majorelle, Marrakech | nycexpeditionist.com

Jardin Majorelle, Marrakech | nycexpeditionist.com

(I couldn’t resist taking one attitude photo, even in the boot and my semi-ridiculous outfit.)

Once we’d walked through the entire garden, we checked out the nearby boutiques.

My favorite: 33 Rue Majorelle, with its sophisticated clothing and house wares.

33 Rue Majorelle, Marrakech | nycexpeditionist.com

We still weren’t ready to go back to the medina, so we looked at our offline map and saw that Starbucks, Zara and H&M were nearby. We figured that western stores meant a more modern part of town, and we wanted to see what that side of Marrakech was like.

Honestly? It was so refreshing. The streets were wide, clean and tree-lined. No one harassed us.

We had lunch at Le Grand Cafe de la Poste. It didn’t look like much from the outside. But from the inside, it was all old school glamour. We ate on the terrace and savored having a quiet, relaxing meal away from all the craziness.

Notice how happy we are!

Lunch at Le Grand Cafe de la Poste, Marrakech | nycexpeditionist.com

Lunch at Le Grand Cafe de la Poste, Marrakech | nycexpeditionist.com

Later that evening, we had dinner at Nomad, a restaurant that offers modern takes on Moroccan cuisine.

We had to brave another long walk through the medina to get there—something I was dreading. Luckily, our dinner was worth the walk.

Nomad has a rooftop terrace with a chill, classy vibe.

Nomad, Marrakech | nycexpeditionist.com

This was one of my favorite meals. We ordered a chicken tagine and the Nomad couscous, which included beef and veggies. For dessert, I had the ginger and yogurt ice creams.

The next day, I got a spa treatment at Les Bains de Marrakech. The menu had various combinations of hammams, scrubs and massages. I opted for a 45 minute hammam and a deep tissue massage.

The spa, itself, was beautiful. Relaxing by the outdoor pool, sipping Moroccan tea and waiting for my treatment to begin, was one of my favorite parts of the trip.

As for the actual treatments: I’d never had a hammam before, but I figured I’d have to get one. (When in Morocco, right?) In the hammam room, I wore my bathing suit bottoms and laid down on a waterproof bed while the spa attendant poured water all over me. Then she left for a while as the room got hotter. I laid there sweating until she returned, dumped some more water on me, and then scrubbed me down with what smelled like a grapefruit scrub. Then more time sweating. Then more water dumping. Afterwards my skin felt great, and I drank two bottles of water to rehydrate.

Then came the massage. It was relaxing but not wonderful. The deep tissue massages I usually receive really get in there and work out the kinks in my back. My masseuse didn’t use much pressure or try to work out the knots.

During both treatments, I found a downside to the spa—the walls were very thin, so while in the hammam I could hear other people having treatments, and while getting the massage, I heard people walking and talking outside my room.

For lunch, Shirin and I decided to have lunch overlooking Jemaa El-Fna. And the only reason both of us were willing to brave the walk there was because we knew it would be our last time doing so.

We ate on Cafe de France‘s terrace. We ordered an onion and raision couscous and a kefta and egg tagine. They were both much tastier than we’d been expecting from a place that clearly caters to tourists. In fact, it was one of our favorite meals of the trip.

Cafe de France, Marrakech | nycexpeditionist.com

On the way back, we made it through the medina in record time—mostly because I was so over the harassment and wanted to leave it behind as soon as possible.

Marrakech Medina | nycexpeditionist.com

That night, we went all out and headed to La Mamounia, the famed luxury hotel.

Upon arrival, we could feel the magic of the place.

La Mamounia, Marrakech | nycexpeditionist.com

Everything about it was beautiful and peaceful.

La Mamounia, Marrakech | nycexpeditionist.com

Its manicured grounds were breathtakingly gorgeous. Shirin and I kept saying how it even topped YSL’s garden—which, until that point, was the most beautiful place we’d seen there.

We were so enamored that we took our time walking around…

La Mamounia, Marrakech | nycexpeditionist.com

…snapping photos…

La Mamounia, Marrakech | nycexpeditionist.com

…and just savoring the tranquil environment.

La Mamounia, Marrakech | nycexpeditionist.com

We had drinks on the outdoor terrace and then dined al fresco at the Italian restaurant. (Hey, sometimes you need a break from the local cuisine!)

And we made a pact that the next time we returned to Marrakech, we’d stay at La Mamounia.

I’ll be honest. Before this trip, I didn’t get why people would travel halfway around the world to stay at western-style hotel compounds that were cut off from all the local surroundings. But this trip totally changed my opinion.

It was difficult and exhausting to be harassed so much in the medina. I think we would’ve been better able to enjoy walking around if we didn’t have to deal with so much harassment every time we left the hotel. The people who stay at the compound hotels probably take cabs to the square, walk around a bit, go to dinner at one of the restaurants a little off the square, then go home. And I imagine that since they only have to deal with a few minutes (as opposed to nearly two hours a day) of harassment, it wouldn’t bother them as much.

That said, I still, overall, enjoyed our time in Marrakech. Though I’ll admit, I was pretty happy to depart to Essaouira, the seaside town, for a few days afterwards, in hopes that it would be a bit more chill.

Summer Snapshots

How is it the last week of August?!

Hard to believe summer is already coming to an end. As always, it feels way too soon.

But what a summer it’s been! While I wouldn’t say it was relaxing and stress-free, it was definitely eventful and, overall, pretty amazing. Despite some major bumps.

Here’s a look:

I spent every possible minute outdoors, from a double header weekend Mets game in early June (they won both games!)…

CitiField | nycexpeditionist.com

CitiField | nycexpeditionist.com

…to many weekends at Mal and Peter’s.

Ping | nycexpeditionist.com

We were helping them pack up to move to a new apartment. I didn’t mind lending a hand to do that, because it meant grilling…

Grilling | nycexpeditionist.com

Grilling | nycexpeditionist.com

…and relaxing on their deck afterwards.

Hudson River | nycexpeditionist.com

And then, the beach!

Rockaway Beach | nycexpeditionist.com

Despite the two-hour ride each way to the Rockaways, I managed to go and meet up with friends every single weekend, for more than a month.

Rockaway Beach | nycexpeditionist.com

Sure, Rockaway isn’t the prettiest or cleanest of NYC-area beaches. But the people-watching is incredible, as is just escaping the city! And seriously, nothing beats Tacoway Beach and Rippers after hours of laying out.

Rockaway Taco | nycexpeditionist.com

I’m so glad I got in tons of beach time. Because a few weeks ago, this happened.

Foot in boot | nycexpeditionist.com

It started in July, during a routine ballet class. I was wearing a pair of pointe shoes that was almost dead, but I could barely get my right foot up and over the shoe. It felt like I was wearing an ill-fitting new shoe with an extra-hard shank, and not a very well broken-in pair from my favorite maker! I kept the shoes on for barre and noticed that I was having a hard time supporting myself on my right foot. I thought all that was weird, but chalked it up to dead shoes and a bad ballet day. (The lies we tell ourselves!!)

The next few classes were the same. I realized, that in addition to not being able to support myself en pointe on my right foot, I was also having trouble just pointing it. Plus, my whole ankle just felt off—weak and unable to move the way it usually did.

I stopped wearing pointe shoes and went down to two classes a week, hoping that more time off would help whatever was going on with my ankle. I increasingly believed I had Achilles tendinitis. But the weird thing was that when I wasn’t dancing, my foot and ankle felt 100% normal.

Finally, in early August, I was in yet another class, struggling to point my right foot and feeling like I could barely land my jumps. (I actually continued doing all the jump combinations in every class. Probably not the smartest move.) When I got home, I noticed that my foot and ankle were swollen.

That led me to go to urgent care the following day, and then to a podiatrist they referred me to, the next day. His diagnosis was not at all what I expected. It turns out that I have an extra bone in my ankle that I either broke or impinged from all the pointe work. That’s led the tendons around it to become inflamed from the constant rubbing against it.

The official name for this is os trigonum syndrome. Apparently, it’s fairly common among ballet dancers. By some miracle, the podiatrist I was referred to has worked with a lot of dancers and has been a primary podiatrist to several dance companies in the city. He knew almost immediately what the problem was.

So I’m in boot for several weeks!

Luckily, it didn’t get in the way of one of my biggest and most elaborate plans: An all-out party for Mal and Peter, who are expecting their first child next month! (I’m going to be an aunt!!!!!)

I decided that I wanted to throw a celebration that all their/our loved ones could attend—not just women. We booked the clubhouse at their new apartment complex and I spent several weeks planning and prepping. Thank god for my parents, who wholeheartedly went along for the ride and never once questioned if I’d bitten off more than I could chew.

I never thought of myself as craftsy, but this was the most DIY thing I’ve ever done.

My mom and I made all the props and background for a photo booth. (If you’re every interested in setting up your own, I highly recommend this tutorial and purchasing this lighting kit.)

We cooked and prepped almost all the food for the baby buffet—an array of bite-sized finger food for 40 people, spanning three tables.

On the menu: mini empanadas, mini mac and cheese cups, chicken sandwich sliders, spinach balls, guac and mango salsa chip cups, meatballs, deviled eggs, pigs in a blanket, shrimp cocktail, cucumber salad, caprese salad, mini cupcakes (two types: chocolate and lemon), mini chocolate dipped macaroons, chocolate dipped strawberries. Whew! (Thank you to my mom, E, Marianna, Olga, Mal and Peter for their help and contributions!)

macaroons | nycexpeditionist.com

My one regret was not getting a photo of the full baby buffet table. That’s what happens when you’re having too much fun while mingling and trying to be a good host. (And, um, quaffing lots of white wine.)

Luckily, we got tons of great photo booth shots!

Photo booth | nyexpeditionist.com

Photo booth | nyexpeditionist.com

And I was thrilled that so many loved ones showed up to celebrate my two favorite people.

HMP | nycexpeditionist.com

Somewhere during the summer, I also found out that my landlord was selling my beloved apartment and that I needed to move. After months of searching for something affordable, I finally found the perfect place…the apartment right upstairs from me. I will hopefully be moving into a carbon copy of my existing apartment in early October.

Another miracle. Somehow, things are working out.

And I have one more exciting summer plan.

Tomorrow, I’m flying to London (boot and all) to spend a few days with Shirin. And then, we’re off to Morocco!

So much craziness, but so much good stuff. Hope your summer was every bit as wild and wonderful, as well!

The Truth About Third World Travel

I recently discovered the site Wait But Why and am hooked.

For each post, Tim Urban, the site’s sole writer and illustrator, delves into a topic—like How to Pick Your Life Partner, or Why Generation Y Yuppies are Unhappy—in such a hilarious, honest, intelligent and insightful way. I’ll find myself reading and laughing out loud and exclaiming, “That’s awesome—and so true!!!”

Take, for example, this post, “Traveling to the Third World Is Great and Also It Sucks.”

As Urban describes it:

You know that upsetting person who posts pictures on Facebook of themselves doing some delicious- or beautiful- or wild-looking activity in somewhere like Tanzania or India or Peru? And even though they’re posting for their own purposes as part of a skillful weave of Image Crafting and Jealousy Inducing, it makes you yearn anyway as you sit there in whatever shitty life you’ve chosen for yourself?

The thing you need to remember is that they did some careful cropping on the photo—they cropped out the misery. Misery is a government requirement when you visit a country like Tanzania or India or Peru and your body is totally unaccustomed to the ecosystem, but that’s easy to forget when you’re not there.

So it’s not that your upsetting friend isn’t having a great time—they are—but beneath their shit-eating open-jaw delighted smile and upward-extended arms grasping into the succulent mist of a waterfall, just a couple feet down are aching, blistered feet, malaria-ridden-mosquito bitten legs, and some gurgling diarrhea nightmare.

He then goes into detail about why third world trips are so amazing but also so miserable—in a very logical way.

I have to agree 100%!

Most of my favorite trips have been to third world countries. And while they were life-changing and pretty fabulous overall, there was a fair share of misery involved.


  • Peeing all over my jeans because I wasn’t accustomed to using a drop toilet. (China)
  • Staying in a hotel that lacked heat and hot water in winter, in the middle of a dessert. I was so frozen I didn’t even want to wash my hands after going to the bathroom. (Bolivia)
  • Having to use the buddy system to walk home after dark due to the risk of violent crime. (Guatemala)
  • Getting so tossed around in rough water while snorkeling that I actually threw up. (Nicaragua)
  • Taking icy showers with no water pressure in poorly heated hotels/homes. (Almost every third world country)
  • Not being able to flush toilet paper. (Almost every third world country)

I almost feel like an ass writing all those out, because it shows just how lucky we are. You don’t often think of flushing toilet paper as an amazing luxury. Or browsing in a shop without being an easy target for persistent store owners.

salesman-1 salesman-2

So yes, third world trips are fantastic. But I don’t believe anyone who says there’s not discomfort and misery involved!

(Images by Tim Urban via Wait But Why)

A Free Library on the Beach

You know how much I love the beach.

And you know how much I love shelves that facilitate free book-sharing.

So it’s no surprise that I love this: beach-library-albena books-libraryThe Beach Library is located in front of Hotel Kaliakra in Albena, Bulgaria, a resort area on the Black Sea. It has more than 6,000 books in 15 languages. German architect Herman Kompernas designed it so visitors could easily share and enjoy books while on vacation. A nice touch: the shelves are weather-proof.

Now that’s my kind of beach. Can I go there, now?

(Image via Goodreads)

Eddie Huang on NYC’s Food Culture


I’ve been reading a ton this summer, and recently finished Eddie Huang’s memoir, Fresh Off the Boat.

In the book, Huang retraces his rough upbringing in Florida—constantly dealing with blatant, violent racism—to a life-changing few months in Taiwan, to law school and beyond in NYC, where he launched a street clothing line and opened Baohaus, his successful restaurant.

Huang’s voice is distinct—slang-inflected and and at times rambling. His ’90s hip-hop references and matter-of-fact observations had me laughing out loud. And I appreciated how he didn’t sugarcoat just how tough it can be as an Asian-American. I could certainly relate to dealing with ignorant people while growing up, and even now.

But by far, my favorite part of the book was the end, when things started looking up for Huang. He discovered the amazing breadth of the NYC food scene and eventually found his own place in it:

I liked how we all took ownership in the city, its culture, and its food. We still argue all the time about soup dumplings. Tourists and cornballs love Joe’s Shanghai, but everyone knows it’s Nan Xiang Xiao Long Bao holding down in Flushing…we’ll go on and on about how great the lox and whitefish are at Russ & Daughters, but how undeserving their bagels are. The biggest travesty in downtown New York is that you have to buy your lox at R&D then take the train up to Ess-a-Bagel to put together a proper lox, caper, red onion, cream cheese, on sesame or salt bagel. We wish 2nd Ave Deli was still on Second Avenue, we worry about the old man’s health at Di Fara Pizza, and we still don’t understand how people can go to Szechuan Gourmet and order from the American Chinese menu while we get busy with the chili leek intestine casserole and a Diet Coke.

But despite the misfires, overhyped openings, and super-restaurants that mar the landscape, New York is the best eating city not named Tokyo or Taipei, and we owe it to the people Fresh Off the Boat. From the old chick selling churros on the Sunset Park D train to the stray cat crawling over the counter at Fort Greene’s Farmer in the Deli to Peter Luger’s in Williamsburg to Great N.Y. Noodletown on Bowery to Shopsin’s on Essex to Baohaus on Fourteenth to La Taza de Oro on Ninth Avenue to Sapporo on forty-ninth to the golden elevator at Kuruma Zushi to Lechonera in Harlem to SriPraPhai in Woodside to Mario’s on Arthur Avenue, it’s an army of first- and second-generation immigrants that feed this city.

I couldn’t help but smile when I read those two paragraphs—because it’s all 100% true!

I’ve had awesome meals at Nan Xiang Xiao Long Bao, Szechuan Gourmet, Great N.Y. Noodletown and SriPraPhi. I’ve eaten more Ess-a-Bagels than I could ever count. (In fact, that was my “poverty diet” lunch for years, when I worked across the street from the shop. I was making so little money that all I could afford was a bagel with nothing on it, because it only cost $1 and filled me up for hours.)

And we really do worry about the old dude’s health at Di Fara! Because if he goes, who will make the pizza?!

Plus, whenever I ask myself if I could ever leave NYC, the same few things remind me that I couldn’t: My family. Ballet. And the food, for exactly the reason Huang states: all the immigrants from around the world, cooking their specialties and serving them up to hungry, curious and appreciative New Yorkers.

Not something you find in every city!

(Image via Friends We Love)

A Weekend in Indianapolis

I spent last weekend in Indianapolis.

Random, right?!

Well, not so much considering that my good friend Lindsay grew up there, and recently moved back.

During a recent phone chat, she threw out the idea of me spending a weekend there.

I hadn’t seen her in years. (Since that time I visited her in Chicago.) I’d never been to Indianapolis before. And I vaguely remembered the NY Times featuring it as one of their top 2014 destinations, thanks to a network of new bike trails. Plus, I could count all my visits to the midwest on one hand.

Within a day, I’d booked a flight to Indy.

I had a great time catching up with Lindsay, staying in her gorgeous apartment and grilling with her family. She also gave me a sweet tour of the city, highlighting all the cute places and up-and-coming areas.

On the evening of my arrival, we had dinner at Plow & Anchor, a restaurant the focuses on seafood and seasonal produce. (I loved the mackerel crudo with pickled strawberries.)

Afterwards, we walked down Massachusetts Avenue, a main drag with restaurants and shops. A mural of Kurt Vonnegurt, an Indianapolis native, overlooked the street.

Kurt Vonnegut | nycexpeditionist.com

Lots of people were out, dining al fresco and enjoying the hot weather, which was nice to see. I did a double take when several beer bikes went by—I didn’t know those existed outside of London. Lindsay attested that they’re super-popular in Indy. Who knew?!

We spent the next day walking around Broad Ripple, a part of town that was once known for its bar scene, but is evolving. The Monon Trail, a path that’s part of Indy’s new hiking/biking network, runs through it, and we strolled along.

Monon Trail, Indianapolis | nycexpeditionist.com

I loved stumbling along this cute hotel

Hotel Broad Ripple, Indianapolis | nycexpeditionist.com

…and an old railway car alongside the path.

Monon Trail, Indianapolis | nycexpeditionist.com

We walked among the sculpture garden at the Indianapolis Art Center.

Indianapolis Art Center | nycexpeditionist.com

Indianapolis Art Center | nycexpeditionist.com

Indianapolis Art Center | nycexpeditionist.com

My favorite piece: this whimsical house!

Indianapolis Art Center | nycexpeditionist.com

Afterwards, we stopped for lunch at Public Greens, an awesome cafeteria-style eatery.

Public Greens | nycexpeditionist.com

Public Greens | nycexpeditionist.com

They actually grow their own produce along the trail.

Public Greens | nycexpeditionist.com

Public Greens | nycexpeditionist.com

The following day, we drove through Fountain Square, an up-and-coming ‘hood—but because it was a Sunday morning, most places were closed. (Except for Milktooth, currently one of the hottest restaurants in town, which was overflowing with brunchers.)

We also strolled along the Canal Walk, another leafy trail alongside a manmade canal. Unfortunately, the gondolas weren’t out at that time!

Indy is definitely a city in the midst of change. Everywhere we went, we saw tons of fancy new condos going up. Though who will be living there remains to be seen. The city felt pretty quiet for most of the weekend, and Lindsay hadn’t heard of any new incentives to draw more residents to the city.

But who knows? Maybe all the new greenspaces, trails and growing food and drink scene will lure more people to the city. I’m definitely glad I got to see it now. And I’m curious about what it’ll look like in a few years.