The daily digest of Twin Cities culture | Secrets of the City

After getting settled into the "Swilly Suite" and meeting up with the girls, we all decided that we should check out and meet the other guests at the Hyatt.

A few lobster rolls, sparkling water—and, yes, white wine—later, it was

When my husband and I were asked to go on vacation to Colorado as a guest of our good friends the Swillers, how could we say no?

Last week was filled with good memories and a lot of REALITY. After landing in Denver with the guys, we still had a three hour drive to Aspen ahead of us. Swiller was the designated driver of the upgraded rental car, an Escalade. I guess Swilly figured that, since I (the JAPrincess of the bunch) was on board, it would be important to have a vehicle that gave me and the guys some room.

Now that I have been in Scotland for a bit I have begun to notice the great shadow the infamous creator of Braveheart still casts over this hilly northern country. If you venture into any bargain store in Edinburgh or Glasgow you will find many bric-a-bracs aimed at spend-happy tourists. These items range from the relatively funny "kilt beach towel" to the aggravating "William Wallace doll." Now, there's nothing

After $761 million in public financing in the early nineties, countless broken promises to workers, unions, legislators, and the inane poke to the rectum that is the price of the Northwest SmartSnack, Minnesota's favorite dysfunctional relationship is over. Sure, it was great to throw our international hub status in the faces of those who would dare deem us flyover country. And surely the fascinating articles on

NORTH, SOUTH, DOWN & OUT

Hello everyone, I know it has been a while since my last post, but I have been busy accruing material for this one by traveling around this fair island. This blog-entry will concentrate on my recent travels outside Edinburgh. First to the capital of the UK and home to those English leeches: the monarchs of Britain; and secondly to Scotland's biggest and most unsettling city, Glasgow.

CHAPTER 1: GETTING TO LONDON

Hello, my name is Hector E. Ramos-Ramos, and I intend here to share with you my observations, opinions, and concerns while I am abroad (primarily in Scotland), courtesy of the study abroad program at St. Paul's own Macalester College.

In celebration of thirty years of my wife’s profound ability to tolerate me, we went to France for ten days last month. We did the things we usually do when we go to interesting places. We got a very small and inexpensive hotel room (under the theory that we’re never there anyway) and spent all day walking from museum to café to art gallery to bar.

On June 17, 2006, we quietly paddled the Heath Ledger across the Canadian border. We hadn’t exactly planned to sneak into Canada. Joe and I were on a mission—to reach Hudson Bay by canoe, still hundreds of miles to the northeast—and as we approached the border we realized that interactions with government officials might endanger that mission. For one thing, we were unsure whether the guards would let Joe, with his extensive juvenile record, into the country.

It’s a bit foggy aboard the Queen Mary 2 on our second day out of New York. The sky merges seamlessly with the ocean, obliterating the horizon in mushy blue-grayness. But deep inside this massive vessel—the newest, largest, fastest, and most luxurious ocean liner in the world—and behind the doors of the Illuminations auditorium, the stage lights are so bright that I can’t see anyone beyond the second row. What I know (and sense acutely) is that there are 150 people in the room, and that their attention, in just a moment, will be trained on me.

While Sudan and Qatar might be tougher bets, most Americans could spin a globe and pinpoint Saudi Arabia’s deserts with relative ease. Even if your geography fails you, you’ve no doubt at least heard of Saudi and perhaps recall Peter O’Toole shouting across the desert sands in Lawrence of Arabia.