ILLUSTRATION BY MATTHEW HOLLISTER

I’LL ADMIT IT, I have an obscene amount of media: hundreds of apps, thousands of albums, countless hours of TV shows and movies, folder after folder of pictures and who knows how many plain old documents. That’s at least a terabyte’s worth of storage space. What’s a media geek like me to do if he wants to access all that on the road? Storing it in the cloud is a prohibitively expensive proposition — it’d cost me $1,000 a year to keep it on Amazon’s Cloud Drive (and that much space isn’t even available on Apple’s iCloud).

The answer? Make your own cloud. If you already have an external hard drive at home with all your media loaded on it, the easiest way to turn it into a remote-accessible personal cloud is to plug it into Pogoplug ($50, pogoplug.com). This sleek, router-size device has built-in software that provides an interface for accessing files on any of the storage drives it’s connected to. Setup is a cinch — all I had to do was hook it into my router with the included cable, stick the power cord into an AC outlet and connect my external hard drive to one of the Pogoplug’s USB ports. After a quick automated sign-in, my personal cloud was up and running. Now, whether I’m using my iPad, Android phone or laptop, I can access my files from anywhere via my.pogoplug.com. I can upload, download and share pictures through e-mail or public links, as well as download, upload and stream movies, TV and music — even iTunes purchases — to any Web-connected device. Simple.

Pogoplug is great when I have a wireless connection, but when I need to keep it local, I use the Seagate GoFlex Satellite ($200, seagate.com). While it looks just like any other flask-size hard drive, it has one killer additional feature: the ability to stream up to five hours from more than 300 movies to an iPad, iPhone, Android device or laptop via its own localized Wi-Fi hot spot. That means I can’t use it to surf the Web, but also that I don’t need Internet access for it to work.

What’s more, I can watch the pilot of “Terra Nova” while one of my colleagues (or family members) watches Bridesmaids, since the GoFlex Satellite can stream up to three different movies to three different devices simultaneously. Accessing the files is as easy as downloading and opening up the GoFlex Satellite app or launching your Web browser.

These hardware solutions may not have all the cool push features of iCloud, but they do give me access to more of my media at a fraction of the cost. What do I do with the savings? Buy more music, movies and TV shows, of course.

Tech columnist TOM SAMILJAN also has a large collection of vinyl and cassette tapes — none of which are saved online.

MOON SHOT
A classic film gets a new sound

Even if you’ve never heard of Georges Méliès’ 1902 short film Le Voyage Dans La Lune (“A Trip to the Moon”), you’ve seen its most famous still (above). Méliès’ film, which tracks a group of explorers as they build a rocket, fly it to the moon, explore fantastical lunar jungles and battle aliens — all while wearing top hats and carrying umbrellas, for some reason — is revered as a cinematic landmark. So when a long-lost hand-colored print of the original film was discovered in 1993, it was a major event. Two foundations spent a decade restoring the print, and then enlisted French electronic music pioneers Air (whose first album was titled Moon Safari) to provide an original score. The finished piece is apt: by turns euphoric, mischievous and, naturally, funky. Air enjoyed the gig so much that they built a whole album from it, which they’re releasing along with a DVD of Méliès’ masterpiece on Feb. 7. Far out.

RAISING A RACKET
The Mob Museum muscles in on Vegas

New York and Chicago get much of the blame for the Mafia’s presence in America, but Las Vegas was a playground for organized crime as far back as 1946, when Bugsy Siegel built the city’s first superhotel, the Flamingo. Now, Vegas has established a museum — housed in the former courtroom that hosted the Kefauver hearings on organized crime in 1950 — to explore the history of crime syndicates across the country. Included are exhibits on such notable gangsters as Al Capone and John Gotti; a wiretapping setup where visitors can listen in on coded conversations; and the wall against which seven mobsters were dispatched in Chicago’s St. Valentine’s Day Massacre. Opens Feb. 14

GETTING THE BIG PICTURE
Madonna goes mainstream with her movie W.E.

While the Material Girl has logged more than a few hours in front of movie cameras — with roles in Evita, Desperately Seeking Susan and others — this month marks her debut as the director of a major motion picture. W.E. is loosely based on the relationship between King Edward VIII and American divorcée Wallis Simpson, a romance that compelled Edward to abdicate the British crown to his younger brother, Albert (the inspiration for The King’s Speech). Despite the fact that Madonna directed the 2008 French film Filth and Wisdom, some remain skeptical of this latest project. “What makes you think you can direct?” a reporter asked her in December. “I’ve been married to a few directors,” quipped the ex of Guy Ritchie and Sean Penn. “I’ve picked up some tips along the way.” Opens Feb. 3

NORTHERN DELIGHTS

Anyone who’s seen Top Chef knows Gail Simmons is unapologetically frank. But as the food pro’s engaging new memoir, Talking With My Mouth Full (out Feb. 21), reveals, she’s also unabashedly Canadian. Who better, then, to correct the notion that the Great White North’s sole epicurean offerings are pilsner and poutine?

1 “Canada has phenomenal produce and wild game. Something like 75 percent of us live within 100 miles of the U.S. border, and that leaves a lot of wilderness for growing and hunting things.”

2 “Montreal has the most unstuffy French chefs, like Fred Morin and Dave McMillan, who use classic techniques to invent gutsy, rich, yet homey food.”

3 “Subtly different from the U.S. version, the Canadian Jewish deli is having a moment — even in New York,” where wildly popular Mile End opened in 2010.

4 “Like a bloody mary but with Clamato juice, the briny bloody caesar is so good you forget you’re drinking Clamato juice.”

5 “Canadian maple syrup poured on fresh snow — tire d’érable, or maple taffy — is hands down the world’s best two-ingredient dish.”

FASHION ACADEMY
Museums get gussied up just in time for the Oscars

The Academy Awards (Feb. 26) are ostensibly about rewarding performers for their artistic achievements in film, but anyone who’s spent a Saturday watching (or avoiding) the red carpet pre-shows on TV knows that what those performers wear is equally important. Get some cultural perspective on the subject with one of this month’s many fashion-related museum exhibits.

IF YOU FELL IN LOVE WITH: Cameron Diaz‘s Emanuel Ungaro kimono-inspired dress in 2002
VISIT: “Dyeing Elegance: Asian Modernism and the Art of Kūboku and Hisako Takaku” at the San Diego Museum of Art

IF YOU FELL IN LOVE WITH: Elsa Pataky‘s beaded flapper-style outfit at the Vanity Fair Oscars afterparty in 2011
VISIT: “The Roaring Twenties: Heels, Hemlines and High Spirits” at the Bata Shoe Museum in Toronto

IF YOU FELL IN LOVE WITH: Sarah Jessica Parker‘s Dior Haute Couture gown in 2009
VISIT: “Charles James: Genius Deconstructed,” on Dior’s U.S. counterpart, at the Chicago History Museum

IF YOU FELL IN LOVE WITH: Gwyneth Paltrow‘s sleek, sporty Calvin Klein Collection dress in 2011
VISIT: “Sport and Fashion” at the Fashion Museum in Bath, England

DAYS OF WANDER
Rudd and Aniston go communal

In Wanderlust, George and Linda (Paul Rudd and Jennifer Aniston) are a classic Manhattan power couple who are forced to leave the Big Apple behind when George loses his job. After a brief but disastrous stint in Georgia, they inadvertently wind up at a commune populated with quirky dropouts of all stripes (one of which, naturally, is played by Alan Alda). Straitlaced-suits-meet-hippies is a stock premise, but it’s redeemed here by the formidable comedic talents of Rudd, Aniston and director David Wain, who previously made the cult classic Wet Hot American Summer (featuring Rudd) and Role Models (also featuring Rudd). By the end, misunderstandings are had, lessons are learned and new perspective is gained. Opens Feb. 24

I’M STOPPED AT A RED LIGHT in the center of Brussels, en route to the highway, when the full impact of the new Peugeot RCZ is made abundantly clear to me. A Mercedes pulls up, and after a moment its passenger-side window buzzes down. Leaning across the seat, the driver offers his approval. “Nice car,” he says. “Doing anything tonight?”

I am indeed, though not with him. Needing to escape the Mach 4 lifestyle of the E.U. capital, I inch my way out of the city, heading to England for a quiet weekend away. My exit is hardly going unnoticed, though. Even mired in traffic, the RCZ (full handle: the RCZ 2.0 HDi FAP sports coupe) turns heads. It immobilizes pedestrians, causes approaching cars to drift alarmingly off track and inspires truck drivers to train their camera phones on the car’s hourglass body and aluminum-trimmed swoops. The RCZ is feminine, with a curvaceous double-dome roof, yet manages to be muscular and lean as well.

Tapping the necessary coordinates into the GPS, I head northwest out of Brussels on the E40 highway, brushing past Ghent and Bruges on my way to France. There, the A16 delivers me to the Eurotunnel, an undersea shuttle train and one of the fastest ways of crossing the English Channel. Thirty-seven minutes after leaving Calais, the train rolls into England’s Folkestone terminal; moments later, vehicles begin disembarking.

Back on the road, I engage the cruise control and turn up the sound system, making myself comfortable. Maybe too comfortable: While overtaking a tractor-trailer, I realize I’m about to miss my exit. Snapping to, I accelerate across two lanes and drop down a couple of gears while negotiating a near-hairpin turn without incident. The RCZ’s grip and 19-inch alloy wheels prove exceptional. The ride is hard but doesn’t detract from the car’s solid on-road feel. The gear changes are precise, and when, say, I put my foot down in fourth there’s great pulling power.

Following Kent’s rugged coastline, my route takes me through a number of small villages — a few of which are clustered precariously on cliffs overlooking the sea — before moving on to a series of lush woodlands and fields studded with medieval hamlets. In time, I arrive in Sandwich, my retreat for the weekend. Amid the narrow cobbled streets and alleyways in the heart of town, I find my accommodations: the Salutation, a handsomely restored Georgian manor house enclosed almost entirely within the walls of the old city. As I pass under an ancient archway and into the house’s pebbled courtyard, one of England’s most renowned ornamental gardens, created by Sir Edwin Lutyens, is gloriously revealed.

I park the RCZ at the base of the sweeping staircase leading to the front door and announce myself at reception. From the window, I take in the grounds. Though I’m well away from Brussels, I remain conspicuous: As I watch, a fellow guest sitting at the opposite side of the courtyard leaves his afternoon tea and strides over to inspect the Peugeot more closely. The butler, who’s been sent out to collect my luggage, joins him, lingering just long enough to fumblingly draw his mobile phone and squeeze off a shot before feigning nonchalance and returning to his duties.

When CINDY-LOU DALE, a writer in southeast England, returned the RCZ, it was almost entirely covered with fingerprints.

2012 PEUGEOT RCZ 2.0 HDi FAP SPORTS COUPE
The bells and whistles

Starting Price: Just a shade under £26,000. The RCZ is not available in the United States, as Peugeot pulled out of that market in the 1990s. However, the RCZ is one of a number of new Peugeot models that suggest the company should consider coming back.

Performance: The 163-bhp diesel engine can go from zero to 62 mph in 7.6 seconds, has a top speed of 146 mph and gets 53 mpg (13 better than the gasoline version).

Perks: The interior of the RCZ is impressive, with a plush soft-touch dashboard. Beyond the center console’s stick shift and hand brake is a button to elevate the rear spoiler, Porsche-style. There’s plenty of leg- and headroom in the front; in the rear, the seats are small and rigid but can fold down to create more trunk space.

ILLUSTRATION BY JOSH COCHRAN

FORTY-FIVE MINUTES after we leave central Athens, at about 9 a.m., the ticket collector on my bus tells me I’ve reached my destination.

“Here?” I say. “Here,” he confirms, and points over my shoulder. “Can walk. Is near.”

As the bus pulls away, I wonder if something got lost in translation — this doesn’t look quite right. After walking along the highway in the middle of nowhere for some time, I pass a gardener who verifies that I’m getting warmer and vaguely gestures over yonder, to the site of the Battle of Marathon. The ramifications of what happened on this fertile plain 2,500 years ago are so colossal, so far-reaching that I can scarcely believe how inconspicuous the site is. I’ve seen more enthusiastic signage for giant balls of twine.

I head off through farmland, olive groves and clusters of upscale villas before eventually stumbling upon a fenced-in field dotted with slender Mediterranean cypress trees. I follow the fence around the perimeter and pay three euros to get inside.

I’m the one and only visitor this morning, and the atmosphere is incredibly tranquil. In the middle of the field is a burial mound containing the remains of the 192 citizen-soldiers of Athens, called hoplites, who gave their lives in the battle. The mound doesn’t look like much, but standing in front of it gives me the most profound feeling of awe: I’m very near the spot where, in 490 B.C., an army of 9,000 Athenians and 1,000 of their allies from the town of Plataea faced off against a much larger force of Persian invaders and, against all odds, won. The feat brought an end to Persia’s first invasion of central Greece and would inspire other Greek city-states to victory at the similarly mismatched battles of Thermopylae (ab-tastically rendered in the film 300) and Salamis 10 years later.

It’s difficult to overstate the significance of the Battle of Marathon in the scope of world history. The Greek victory helped safeguard Athenian democracy a mere 18 years after its birth, protecting the very conditions under which Socrates, Plato and Aristotle would soon codify Western philosophy. This burgeoning dēmokratía inspired the ideals of the Roman Republic and every society that’s sought self-governance ever since.

Another, more curious legacy of the battle is an extremely popular running race with an unlikely length of 26 miles, 385 yards: the marathon. Getting to the bottom of that one — and retracing the fabled original route — is why I’m here.

ACCORDING TO LEGEND (which is disputed by historians), as the surviving Persians fled to their ships after the Battle of Marathon, a long-distance runner named Pheidippides was dispatched to take the unexpected good news to Athens, some 25 miles southwest of the battlefield. Despite having just participated in the fight himself, he ran the entire way without stopping, burst into the assembly of Athens’ leaders and managed to blurt out, “We have won!” before keeling over, dead.

Now, I’m not trying to invite a similar fate, but my preparation for the run has been, to say the least, casual. As the weeks that I should have spent training came and went, I reasoned that historical inspiration alone would see me through, horrifying friends who had actually trained for marathons. Nevertheless, pondering the speciousness of the legend as I stand there on the battlefield is sapping my morale. I realize that the sun is getting stronger by the second. It’s 10:15 and already pushing 90 degrees. Well, there’s no time like the present. As I turn toward Athens and tentatively put one foot in front of the other, I begin listening to Herodotus’ accounts of the Persian Wars on my iPhone. The audiobook, while abridged, is over four hours long, giving me an outside chance, I figure, of finishing the run before the tale is told.

I’m not on the road long before I see signs, placed every few miles, that tell me I’m on the route of the Athens Classic Marathon. It was first run in 1896 as the showpiece event of the inaugural modern Olympic Games. Organizers of the revived Olympics wanted an exciting finale that, like the games themselves, harkened back to the glory of classical Greece. Playing off the run of Pheidippides, they devised an event that proved immediately popular, especially among Greeks who were proudly acquainted with the legend. The marathon began near the battlefield and ended in Athens’ Panathinaiko Stadium, rebuilt in resplendent marble on the site of the original stadium dating from the sixth century B.C.; this turned out to be a distance of 24.9 miles. The home crowd was understandably ecstatic when a Greek water carrier, Spyridon “Spyros” Louis, won, coming in at a respectable two hours and 58 minutes.

The now standard 26 miles, 385 yards, was initially run in 1908, when London hosted its first Olympics. Organizers decided the race would begin at Windsor Castle and end at the Olympic Stadium in Shepherd’s Bush, a distance of 25 miles or so. Complaints about cobblestones and tram lines caused the course to be lengthened, as did a revised starting point and finish line. Despite all the 11th-hour changes, though, the 1908 Olympic marathon was a huge success, sparking marathon mania the world over. The first seven Olympiads saw six different distances used, ranging from 24.85 to 26.56 miles, but in 1921 it was decided that the distance used in London would be the standard. It’s been the length used in the 91 years and countless marathons since.

OF COURSE, modern-day marathoners enjoy the benefit of food and drink stations, medics with numbing spray for aching joints and, most important, an entire car-free side of the highway with two lanes of asphalt at their disposal. But like Pheidippides himself, I’m running solo, and as such am presented with a few extra challenges. The highway is intermittently busy with cars and trucks, which often careen onto the shoulder. Fearing death, I find myself running on a very narrow strip at the side of the road. The strip switches from cobbles to paving slabs to dirt lined with clusters of thorny bushes, and sometimes disappears completely for a hundred yards or so. When this happens, I ratchet up my courage, sprint onto the shoulder and hope the drivers behind me are paying attention. Every once in a while people pay too much attention: A minivan pulls up alongside me and its troop of preteen girls hoots and hollers, likely with sarcasm. I originally tinkered with the idea of running in hoplite garb; this high-pitched haranguing assures me that I’ve made the right decision not to.

After entering the town of Nea Makri, I find my canter has become a trot, and by the time I get to the port town of Rafina over an hour later, I’m down to a brisk walk. “I’ll pick it up again soon,” I tell myself, but my knees and feet are beginning to falter. I’m barely a third of the way there, and I’m starting to see why my friends were so aghast at my nonchalance. Also dispiriting: The countryside has changed from majestic, sword-and-sandal-movie vistas of scrubby mountains, plains and rugged coastline to a sprawl of car dealerships, kiosks, coffee shops and strip malls.

My flagging spirits lift when I encounter a statue of Pheidippides on the side of the road near Rafina and stop to take a closer look. In this particular rendering, he appears boyish, wearing a skirt of leather strips, his bronze and oak shield by his side and his outstretched hand holding a rolled parchment that bears fresh news of the Athenian victory. The next Pheidippides statue that I happen upon is several miles farther along, in the town of Pikermi. This time the runner is quite naked and set not on the side of the highway but in the median, facing in the direction of the “Glorious City.”

By the time I leave the town of Palini and make my way to the outskirts of Athens, I’m a little worse for wear. My knees ache, my feet are a mass of blisters and my thighs are chafed. Old Audiobook Herodotus has long since wrapped up his tale and I’m now using my phone’s GPS to push myself resolutely onward: Twenty miles down, just five more to go. Pheidippides may have had the fate of Western civilization on his shoulders, but at least he didn’t have to worry about international data-roaming charges.

The closer I get to Athens’ center, the more I see evidence of the unrest that’s been taking place here over the past year. There are posters and graffiti protesting the proposed austerity measures, and they increase in number as I limp into Syntagma Square in central Athens. This is where many of the protests and demonstrations have been happening. Overlooking the square is a neoclassical building that houses the Greek Parliament, the focal point for the protesters’ ire. In front of the building is a marble relief of a dead or dying hoplite warrior, naked except for his helmet and shield. This is the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, but the old Athenian I ask about it is quite sure of the warrior’s identity. “Is Pheidippides,” he says. “He helped save Greece.”

Seeing this, I can’t help drawing parallels between the problems Greece faces now and those it confronted 2,500 years ago, when grappling with an existential threat that had huge repercussions for the rest of the world. At the time of this writing, everyone is watching to see whether Greece will be the first nation to jump (or be pushed) from the eurozone. If that happens, Greece will revert to the drachma, a currency that was in use at the birth of Athenian democracy two and a half millennia ago. Walking through the square, I notice an old man selling kilos of drachma for euros; I wonder whether he’d be better off waiting to see how this thing plays out.

Rather than head toward the stadium, which is the end point of the Athens Classic, I limp toward the Agora, at the foot of the Acropolis. This is partly because it’s the public meeting place that Pheidippides would have made a beeline for, but mostly because it’s where my hotel is located and I’m beginning to physically break down. “We have won,” I say when I get there and to no one in particular. A gaggle of German tourists all look at me as if I’ve gone mad. Anticlimactic? Sort of. It’s not until later, when I fall into bed at the Ochre and Brown boutique hotel, that I really feel a sense of victory. One that lingers when I awake, some 15 hours later.

GRANT STODDARD, a writer living in Vancouver, has invested in a great pair of running shoes and arch-supporting insoles.

PHOTOGRAPHS BY PETER FRANK EDWARDS

IT’S EASY TO IMAGINE that when the members of the Virginia Company stopped in 1607 on what is now St. Thomas, on their way to establish the first permanent English settlement at Jamestown, their sublime surroundings would have sparked an impassioned debate about the merits of just staying put. It wouldn’t have been the first: Native American tribes and Christopher Columbus, among others, also figure in the U.S. Virgin Islands’ rich history. Seven different flags have flown here, with the last changeover happening in 1917, when Denmark sold the trio of Caribbean islands to the United States for what was then a princely sum of almost $300 an acre. The acquisition turned out to be a masterful use of Treasury money: St. Thomas offers bustling streets and brisk commerce, and has done so ever since it was a favorite haunt of infamous pirates like Blackbeard and Captain Kidd; St. John has rugged natural beauty (two-thirds of it is a U.S. national park) as well as culinary sophistication; and St. Croix, which is larger, flatter and, unlike its siblings, nonvolcanic, has laid-back ambience to spare. But what truly distinguishes these islands is the easy hospitality of the unique group of Americans who live there and who just might, in three short days, have you, too, debating the merits of sticking around.

DAY ONE | After you wake up in your luxurious suite at the Ritz-Carlton, St. Thomas (1), you pad out to the balcony, take in the view of tranquil, turquoise Great Bay and breathe in the sea air. Feeling fully decompressed, you head to the hotel’s Bleuwater restaurant for a breakfast of lobster Benedict with spinach callaloo-style hollandaise sauce, and then get in your rental car to begin the day’s adventures.

Your first stop is the bustling little capital of the U.S. Virgin Islands, Charlotte Amalie. To explore it, you meet Simon Larsen, the Danish sailor who leads the Charlotte Amalie Historical Walking Tour (2), at Emancipation Gardens. Larsen gives a lively, humorous and often surprising account (telling you, for instance, that the Mamas and the Papas perfected their harmonies in the city’s alleys). A highlight of the tour is the lovely St. Thomas Synagogue, with its floor covered with fine white sand; some say the sand represents the Israelites’ journey through the desert, while others contend that it honors the conversos, Jews who were forced to convert to Catholicism but practiced their own religion in secret and floored their cellars with sand to muffle the sound of their prayers.

Following Larsen up the steep, winding streets that overlook the waterfront has earned you a hearty lunch. Within the labyrinth of alleys once teeming with cutthroats and buccaneers you find Gladys’ Café (3). Not long after you order the house specialties of conch fritters and curried goat, the eatery’s namesake owner (and bartender) belts out a song. Her singing voice and her lip-smacking arsenal of hot sauces are both legendary here — the former calls for a standing ovation; the latter calls for a cooling soursop colada.

You take Highway 35 up and over St. Thomas’ higher elevations to the sheltered, mile-long expanse of pristine white sand at Magens Bay (4), where you take a dip. The bay is on the island’s north shore, which means the 82-degree water you’re enjoying is technically the Atlantic, not the Caribbean. The peaceful surroundings have a profoundly soothing effect on you, but not everyone has been so easily lulled: It is said that Sir Francis Drake used the bay as an anchorage while lying in wait for Spanish ships to plunder.

After an hour spent drifting in and out of consciousness, you drive back to the hotel and board the Ritz’s elegant 53-foot catamaran, the Lady Lynsey, for a sunset sail. A crew member offers you an aptly named “Painkiller”: dark rum, coconut cream, pineapple juice and orange juice topped with fresh-grated nutmeg. You bring it topside to watch the sun disappear below the horizon with a Technicolor flourish.

You’re back at the dock with ample time to check out of the hotel and drive down to nearby Red Hook, where you catch the day’s last car barge to the island of St. John. You arrive in Cruz Bay and minutes later are seated at a sidewalk table at La Tapa (5), a contemporary Mediterranean spot that had celeb chef Mario Batali tweeting his enthusiasm for it last April. The atmosphere is as exuberant and sophisticated as you’d find in any southern European harborfront restaurant, enticing you to order appetizers — the seared foie gras with grape-gewürztraminer compote and the grilled langostinos with passion fruit-cilantro aioli — before tucking into a plate of grilled local yellowtail snapper Basquaise with squid ink orzo.

Batali was certainly onto something, as La Tapa is a gastronomic paradise. But two bays north lies yet another paradise: your hotel, Caneel Bay (6), where, full to bursting, you check in under cover of darkness.

]]> http://www.hemispheresmagazine.com/2012/02/01/three-perfect-days-u-s-virgin-islands/feed/ 0 http://www.hemispheresmagazine.com/2012/02/01/raising-the-bar-down-under/ http://www.hemispheresmagazine.com/2012/02/01/raising-the-bar-down-under/#comments Wed, 01 Feb 2012 06:00:44 +0000 admin http://www.hemispheresmagazine.com/?p=6007

CUSTOMER SERVICE REPRESENTATIVE Annie Walton likes to tell the story about one particular customer on a canceled flight whose wife said to her, in a thick Texas accent, “Annie, you’ve got to get Bob on the plane because he’s got to go to a lunch.”

Wondering what could be so important about a lunch that the man’s wife would be so adamant, Walton found him a flight that day, and he made it on time for his appointment. Walton later saw the man on television: He was in a rocket blasting off from Cape Canaveral. “It wasn’t a lunch,” she clarifies. “It was a launch.”

Getting an astronaut to the launchpad on time is all in a day’s work for Walton, who’s based in the Star Alliance lounge at Kingsford-Smith International Airport in Sydney, Australia. United has two flights arriving at the airport every morning, with one going on to Melbourne and returning that afternoon, and two more flights departing to Los Angeles and San Francisco.

“I look after 4,000 people a month in that lounge,” Walton says. And while her station may be only a small desk with three drawers, “I make that little counter of mine into something that everyone remembers. There are so many other carriers in that lounge, but I make sure [my customers] know exactly who we are in Sydney.”

Making sure everyone knows all about United Airlines is a job that Walton believes she was born to do. She was working in television and public relations when a headhunter recruited her for United’s Red Carpet Club some 23 years ago. When the airline later closed the Red Carpet Club, all the products — and Walton — moved over to the Star Alliance lounge. She didn’t miss a beat in taking care of 150 to 200 customers a day, five days a week; many of those are repeat customers who remember Walton because she makes a point of remembering them.

“I know everyone’s name,” she says. “I have a photographic memory, so I never forget faces.” Remembering names and faces, Walton adds, is part of a bigger effort to respect the fact that “every single person in front of me is different. I have learned not to judge and I realize that sometimes I cannot give them what they request — but I can try.

“They are individuals, and to the best of my ability I try to understand what each person needs.”

Walton’s compassion and understanding come through loud and clear to customers, who have written hundreds of letters through the years praising her. Part of her attitude comes from being a native of Sydney, where, she says, people are welcoming and laid-back. She and her United co-workers want to relax at the end of the day and know they did a great job.

“It’s not just about flying. It’s about everything. It’s about giving the best customer service you can and making everyone feel important,” she says. “I also let people know I’m glad they chose us. I tell them, ‘I realize you have to make a choice, and I hope you will choose to stay with us. But don’t forget — if you don’t, you won’t get me!’ A little bit of humor goes a long way.”

ILLUSTRATION BY JEFFREY DECOSTER

YOU WOULD THINK THAT, after completing the 18th book in one of the most successful mystery franchises going, Janet Evanovich would take a breather, maybe fly down to Turks and Caicos or spend a month in the south of France. Instead, the 68-year-old got up the next morning before dawn, worked out and then sat down in front of a blank screen to write the second installment in her Wicked series, which is aimed at younger readers. “I get back to work because I want to see what’s going to happen next,” she explains. Evanovich, who lives in Naples, Fla., says that between walks on the beach and a steady flow of Cheetos, she finds all she needs to keep going.

Even though Evanovich has branched out, she and her millions of readers never seem to tire of Stephanie Plum, the lingerie saleswoman turned bounty hunter who powers One for the Money, Explosive Eighteen and all the sequentially numbered books in between. Tough, pretty and Jersey to the core, Plum has always felt cinematic in conception, with a tendency to get into jams that are both hair-raising and funny. Evanovich sold the movie rights to One for the Money back in 1993, but no film ever got off the ground. Then, a few years ago, she watched 27 Dresses and saw Katherine Heigl, a throwback to the screwball comediennes of old; she thought absently that Heigl could do justice to Plum.

Amazingly, when producers finally got serious about making One for the Money, they told Evanovich they planned to build it around Heigl. The author tried hard not to get her hopes up, but when she saw the movie, 18 years after it had been optioned, she loved it. “I can never write Stephanie again without seeing Katherine,” she says.

HEMISPHERES: At last, Stephanie Plum is hitting the big screen.
EVANOVICH: Yeah. How great is that?

HEMISPHERES: What took so long?
EVANOVICH: You aren’t allowed to ask me any hard questions, because I don’t have my notes in front of me and I just worked out — I was smarter before I did that. All the blood is in my feet now, instead of my brain. I don’t know why the film took so long. So many people had tried. I never thought it was going to happen.

HEMISPHERES: When you see Katherine Heigl play Stephanie — her Jersey accent is brutally wonderful — the casting totally makes sense.
EVANOVICH: I think my fans initially couldn’t see her; they couldn’t get past the whole blond thing, which is sort of ironic since probably 80 percent of my fans alter their hair color. What I saw was that Katherine brought the right kind of energy to her roles. She has great comic timing, she can do comedy and she’s very physical, which is important because this is very much an adventure movie. When they brought the film down to Florida for me to screen, I invited a bunch of our friends to watch, and the men loved it because there was so much action.

HEMISPHERES: Give us a little Stephanie Plum 101.
EVANOVICH: Stephanie Plum is a fugitive-apprehension agent, better known as a bounty hunter. She works for a bail bondsman in Trenton, N.J., who happens to be her cousin. It’s not a fabulous job, but it’s the job that she could get, and she does the best that she can with it. She’s learning how to be a be er bounty hunter. She’s single; she has a couple of men in her life that she cares about. She’s not a perfect person.

HEMISPHERES: Would you be OK bringing her home to meet Mom?
EVANOVICH: Yeah, I think Mom would probably like Stephanie Plum. Stephanie appreciates a good pot roast. She might be kind of casual sometimes, in jeans and sneakers and a T-shirt, but she does own a little black suit for when she has to go to a funeral. She doesn’t go to church anymore, but she feels very guilty about it. So yes, she’s a good girl. Good, but not perfect.

HEMISPHERES: What is it that Heigl and millions of other American women see in Stephanie?
EVANOVICH: I’ve never had a good soundbite answer for that. I think it’s that she’s kind of a train wreck of a heroine, and we root for her because we relate to her. She’s normal in many ways, with the exception of her job. That, and she destroys every car she owns, her hair is a mess, she can’t cook and her dietary habits aren’t always the best. In spite of all those things, she has two of the hottest guys on the planet attracted to her, and she’s usually the last man standing in many of the books. Readers love that.

HEMISPHERES: You also use geography as a character, and New Jersey keeps butting its way into the series. I hope the fact that I’m calling from New Jersey gives me a little cred.
EVANOVICH: It does. I’m a Jersey girl, and that place has its own kind of energy, as if energy leaks out of New York and finds its way there. I know these people and I love them. One of the reasons I have so much cussing in the books is because that’s part of Jersey for me. When you’re driving down the street and you do something stupid, you get a lot of Italian hand gestures and people yelling things out of car windows at you. Not nice things. That works for these books. But my readers were always saying they were sad that they couldn’t share the books with their daughters, so I started the Wicked series for younger readers.

HEMISPHERES: Your whole family works on your business, which is amazing to me. I couldn’t paint a room with my family without somebody yelling or ending up in tears.
EVANOVICH: We all live in the same neighborhood. We’re like a little herd. Everybody comes over for lunch and we work very well together.

HEMISPHERES: Really?
EVANOVICH: We have some rules. One is that it’s family first, business second, and we work very hard on not stepping on anybody’s toes. We’re all different people, and we all have our jobs. My daughter went to film and photography school, and she’s a very visual person. She started my website and now she’s in charge of everything digital. Plus, she manages my publicity, along with her staff. My son is very analytical, so he’s our corporate finance officer, and he’s also my agent. He deals with West Coast people and all the foreign agencies. He’s the bad cop to my good cop. My husband used to be much more of a manager, but he’s stepped back. These days he likes to go golfing and play tennis.

HEMISPHERES: So what are you working on right now?
EVANOVICH: Wicked Business, with Lizzy Tucker — that’s the book I have coming out in June.

HEMISPHERES: Is it hard to shift between the different series?
EVANOVICH: I like it a lot. What I’ve found is that when I move between worlds — when I finish a Plum book and then the next day I move into the world of Lizzy Tucker — it gives me fresh insights. I think I understand more about Stephanie after I’ve been in Lizzy Tucker’s head for a while. What I find disconcerting is when I am working on Wicked Business and I have to stop in the middle of my day and talk to somebody about Stephanie Plum. I’ve got Lizzy Tucker up there right now. I’ve crossed out Stephanie Plum — I can’t even remember how old she is!

HEMISPHERES: One last thing. As a fellow writer, I’d like some technical advice. When you take your afternoon snack break, how do you keep the Cheetos from getting into your keyboard?
EVANOVICH: My God, that stuff gets everywhere. It’s like magic dust. And it’s that orange color that you can’t get out. I get it under my fingernails and it’s gummed up in my computer keyboard. It’s really vicious stuff, but when I can’t get an idea, you give me a bag of Cheetos and I’m flying.

DAVID CARR, who covers media and culture for the New York Times, will take Fritos and Mountain Dew over brie and chardonnay any day.

ILLUSTRATIONS BY ANDREW BANNECKER

]]> http://www.hemispheresmagazine.com/2012/02/01/take-five/feed/ 0 http://www.hemispheresmagazine.com/2012/02/01/the-changeup/ http://www.hemispheresmagazine.com/2012/02/01/the-changeup/#comments Wed, 01 Feb 2012 06:00:24 +0000 admin http://www.hemispheresmagazine.com/?p=6017

A classic lamb dish reinterpreted for the 1906 Paris menu at Next

JUST INSIDE THE FRONT DOOR of Next, a restaurant in Chicago’s burgeoning Fulton Market district, is a stripped-down dining area that reminds one of a waiting room. With vaguely brown décor and not much in the way of frills, it seems like a place you’d pass through en route to somewhere more exotic rather than a destination unto itself — which is entirely the point. Once seated, diners embark on a journey to a place that is decidedly not Fulton Market.

Other than being helmed by Grant Achatz, the three-Michelin-starred chef of the world-renowned Alinea, Next is most notable for its high-concept dining experience: Every three months, the prix fixe menu changes completely, down to the region and even the era of the cuisine. The first dishes were an interpretation of Paris in 1906. Then came Thai street food, followed by a more abstract “childhood” theme. Guests buy a ticket from the restaurant’s website in advance (if they can get one), and are rewarded with a selection of dishes that is as immaculate in execution as it is singular in vision.

Since debuting last April, Next has been a boon for foodies who both adore Achatz’s cooking and require a steady stream of new experiences. Diners who sampled decadent truffled egg custard and caneton Rouennais à la presse (a whole duck fed through a silver press and served in its own juices) from the Paris menu were able to taste braised beef cheek in a curry of peanut, nutmeg, coconut and lemongrass during Next’s Thai period. By the arrival of the childhood menu, some guests had gotten into the restaurant’s spirit, wearing Scout uniforms as they spooned up high-end mac and cheese.

But as much fun as Next is for patrons, it’s even more fun for the chefs, offering them the opportunity to “open” a new restaurant four times a year. Each theme requires a different strategy, Achatz says. “When we’re doing Escoffier [the chef who inspired the Paris menu], we’re literally cooking out of a book,” he says. “When we approach something like Thailand, it’s more of a broad exploration: What do we want to show people about Thai cooking?”

Where will Next go next? Kyoto and post-World War II Sicily are in the queue, and Achatz has been tinkering with a menu that duplicates the first night he worked at the French Laundry, Thomas Keller’s revered California restaurant. “I think we’ve established the fact that we can really be chameleons,” he says. Critics and discriminating diners seem to agree. When it comes to crossing the final culinary frontier, Next is well on its way. To sample the best of Windy City cuisine, check out Chicago Restaurant Week, Feb. 17-26.

BAR SMARTS
Chicago’s bartenders give chefs a run for their money

IF YOU’VE SEEN one bartender, you’ve seen them all: Scrappy, kind-eyed and quick with a quip, they’re often more knowledgeable about human foibles than they are about foodstuffs. And that’s the way it should be. Or is it?

In Chicago’s craft cocktail world, as one observer recently noted, “knowledge is the new vodka.” In part because of pressure from the cocktail renaissances in New York and San Francisco, and in part because of the world-class chefs who call Chicago home, local liquor slingers have begun a collaboration between bar and kitchen that’s already yielded such delicacies as mezcal with smoked ice (at Michelin-starred Boka), a bacon and egg brunch drink (at the Bedford) and even an old-fashioned served inside an ice cube (at Aviary).

“Five years ago, the bartender wasn’t allowed in the kitchen,” says Debbi Peek, head of the Chicago chapter of the U.S. Bartenders Guild and a mixologist at Bristol Lounge. “But now, bartenders aren’t afraid of the chef anymore. A lot of times, the chef will ask us, ‘Hey, what can you do with this?’”

Founded in 2006, the USBG’s Chicago chapter now has more than 100 members, who convene regularly to take field trips to local distilleries and breweries. Members can also sign up for advanced classes, with topics ranging from how to pair cocktails with food to knife-handling skills (“We have to cut up a lot of garnishes,” Peek says). With such flavorful cocktails on the line, it’s safe to say that bartenders with more skills are good for everyone — as long as we still have someone to complain to about our bosses. — W.C.

PHOTOGRAPH BY CHRISTIAN SEEL

THERE’S SOMETHING PRIMAL that draws us to high places. Long before parachutes and observation decks, people were climbing cliffs and trees and daring each other to look down. This penchant must be part of what attracts us to high-rise hotels and resorts, a sector of the hospitality industry whose popularity continues to, well, rise. While many of these hotels offer far more than just height, inevitably most of their guests find themselves returning for the view.

Take Dubai’s Burj Al Arab (pictured), for instance. If Louis XIV could have built vertically, Versailles might have looked like this sail-shaped structure towering 1,053 feet above the Persian Gulf. Self-billed as the “most luxurious hotel in the world,” it boasts an absurdly opulent interior that’s a riot of Italian marble and gold leaf. There are personal butlers, a “pillow menu” with 13 options, a fleet of Rolls-Royces for hire and (if cars are too down-to-earth) a helipad. The landscape definitely gets in on the act, though, as the view from the aptly named Skyview Bar, situated in an ovoid tube 656 feet above sea level, is spectacular.

“Serenity” isn’t a word you’d normally associate with China’s largest metropolis. But though the Park Hyatt Shanghai is superficially as big and brash as the city itself, once you step inside you’re transported to a world where even a fluttering lotus petal can seem disruptive. The hotel occupies floors 79 to 93 of the country’s tallest tower, so street noise isn’t an issue as you laze in the infinity pool or flap about in the tai chi courtyard. Things do get livelier in the trendy nightclub on the 92nd floor, yet even there, as you watch the pinwheeling lights below, it’s easy to lapse into a meditative state — more so, admittedly, after a few glasses of huangjiu.

High-rise hospitality isn’t a recent development, however. Completed in 1957, Moscow’s Radisson Royal Hotel (formerly the Hotel Ukraine) stood for two decades as the world’s tallest hotel. While the neoclassical façade speaks to Communist Russia’s infatuation with muscular buildings, the recently restored interior is a subtle mingling of old-world elegance and sleek utility. The czars would have approved of the lobby, with its marble floor and frescoed ceiling, though it’s hard to say what they’d have made of the Wi-Fi-equipped library. Standing at 650 feet, the Radisson Royal affords panoramic views of the Moskva River, but the most arresting sight of all might be the one from the outside, showing Stalin’s fantastical, forbidding interpretation of the skyscraper.

There’s little that’s low-key about the Ritz-Carlton Hong Kong, the tallest hotel in the world, which occupies floors 102 to 118 of a sparkling new skyscraper on Victoria Harbor. The top floor is home to the restaurant-bar Ozone, which is what you’ll be inhaling when you step onto its al fresco terrace. Yet while the hotel offers stunning views of Hong Kong, you’ll struggle to avert your eyes from the décor: Everywhere you look, there’s a swirling chandelier, a mirrored column, a glowing lattice, an impossibly stylized chair. The hotel describes itself as “taking luxury to new heights”; it’s also taking luxury to new extremes.

In New York, if you had to pick the city’s loftiest hotel suite, you could do worse than the Ty Warner Penthouse at the Four Seasons New York. Not only is the suite at the top of the city’s highest hotel, on the 52nd floor, but it also comes with one of the world’s steepest daily room rates ($35,000, plus tax). Non-billionaires looking to feast their eyes on the view can head to the hotel’s signature restaurant, L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon, which provides some of the best celebrity-spotting in town.

Speaking of celebrities, Donald Trump has a well-publicized aversion to the small scale, so it’s no surprise that he should lend his name to the Trump International Hotel & Tower Chicago, the steel and glass edifice that looms 92 stories over the Loop. But comparisons to The Donald only go so far. The muted, elegant interior suggests old-money Midwestern understatement rather than conspicuous wealth; the staff is friendly and attentive without being overbearing; and a premium is always placed on comfort over style. Even taking into account the hotel’s lavish amenities, the only truly grandiose thing about it is what lies beyond its windows: the big-shouldered Chicago skyline, jostling along the shores of Lake Michigan, a spectacle that will never seem subdued.

PHOTOGRAPHS BY LISA SHIN

LOOK, SHARP!
Zafirro’s atomic-edged, $100,000 Iridium hones the razor’s image

Apart from heftier price tags and flashier colors, the safety razor hasn’t changed much since King C. Gillette (yes, that Gillette) invented it in 1904. Zafirro, a razor company that won funding from eco-friendly venture firm Bright Light, aims to shake things up. Its limited-edition Iridium razor is designed to last your entire life, with white sapphire blades cut by ionized particles to an edge that’s less than 100 atoms thick (5,000 times thinner than a hair) and a handle made of corrosion-proof iridium, the same metal used in rocket engines. Zafirro will even clean and sharpen it for you — for 20 years. It costs exponentially more than nearly every razor ever made, but hey, it’s also the only one that comes with rocket science. $100,000 / www.zafirro.com

]]> http://www.hemispheresmagazine.com/2012/02/01/look-sharp/feed/ 0 http://www.hemispheresmagazine.com/2012/02/01/what-to-wear-aspen-colo/ http://www.hemispheresmagazine.com/2012/02/01/what-to-wear-aspen-colo/#comments Wed, 01 Feb 2012 06:00:09 +0000 admin http://www.hemispheresmagazine.com/?p=6021

OLIVER SHARPE
Host of Plum TV and producer of Aspen Fashion Week

WHAT HE’S WEARING: Gray Aspen coat, J. Crew shirt, Ralph Lauren bow tie, Levi’s jeans, cashmere hat knitted by his mother (“Thanks, Mom”)

WON’T LEAVE HOME WITHOUT: “My favorite thing to wear is a bow tie.* Little pop of color. Little pop of class. It adds a little something you don’t see every day in Aspen.”

ON THE LOCAL STYLE: “It’s known as ‘Aspen casual.’ It can take you from the slopes to the après scene to the parties. Comfortable, casual — and you can definitely wear jeans.”

TAKE A BOW
Five dandy flourishes to help you stand out in Aspen

• The Men’s Store red and blue striped wool tie, $65, www.bloomingdales.com
• Thomas Pink yellow and blue silk plaid tie, $70, www.thomaspink.com
• The Men’s Store blue houndstooth silk tie, $45, www.bloomingdales.com
• Polo yellow cotton tie, $70, www.bloomingdales.com
• Turnbull & Asser green silk tie, $85, www.bloomingdales.com

PHOTOGRAPHS BY LUCAS ZIELASKO (PORTRAIT), GREG MARINO (PRODUCTS)
PRODUCT STYLING BY WAYMAN BANNERMAN

ILLUSTRATION BY KELLI ANDERSON

]]> http://www.hemispheresmagazine.com/2012/02/01/dispatches-12/feed/ 0 http://www.hemispheresmagazine.com/2012/02/01/introducing-mileageplus-headliners/ http://www.hemispheresmagazine.com/2012/02/01/introducing-mileageplus-headliners/#comments Wed, 01 Feb 2012 06:00:08 +0000 admin http://www.hemispheresmagazine.com/?p=6009

IN JANUARY, we debuted MileagePlus Headliners, an all-new auction program that lets MileagePlus members use their miles to bid on a host of experiences, including theater and sporting events, once-in-a-lifetime trips and airline adventures that money can’t buy.

Each month, MileagePlus Headliners will offer at least one unique bidding opportunity that includes VIP access. In January, for instance, it opened bidding on the chance to attend the “Team USA Experience” at the London 2012 Olympic Games, along with the opportunity to train like a pilot in United’s flight simulator in Denver. Later this year, it will offer the chance to fly on a United Boeing 787 Dreamliner delivery flight.

Several new auction items are available in February, including a six-day/five-night Jackson Hole winter ski travel package; tickets to a performance by the Boston Symphony Orchestra at New York’s Carnegie Hall; and premium seating at professional sporting events in Houston, Chicago, Cleveland and Miami.

In building the world’s leading airline, United is committed to offering customers the world’s leading loyalty program. This year we do so with new opportunities for program members to earn and redeem miles and to engage with our program in more ways than ever before.

MileagePlus Headliners will continue adding more choices of cultural and entertainment experiences. A complete list of auctions is available online at mileageplusawards.com/auctions, and check in periodically for new and exciting experiences.

ASK THE PILOT

With Captain Mike Bowers

Q: Are larger aircraft less susceptible to turbulence compared with smaller jets?
A: There are several factors that affect how an aircraft reacts to turbulence. The stiffness of the wing structure, for example, has an effect on how the turbulence is felt. A stiff wing transmits more movement directly to the cabin than does a wing with more flexibility. Generally speaking, larger aircraft have larger wingspans and therefore more flexible wings. In addition, our B777 aircraft, and to a greater extent our newest B787 aircraft, have a sophisticated computerized system that automatically sends electronic signals to the flight controls to counter the effects of turbulence felt in the cabin. On top of all that, as pilots we are trained to find the altitudes with the least turbulence because we know our passengers prefer a smoother flight.

Do you have a question for Captain Bowers? Write to him at askthepilot@united.com.

MEDFORD, MASS.

When designing experiments, scientists don’t usually consider what kids might like for their birthday, but it seems Manuel Palacios and David Walt of Tufts University have arrived at the perfect present (were it at all appropriate for children). Forget the Acme spy kit — these researchers have discovered how to make invisible ink out of germs. Using bacteria that they genetically modified to light up in different colors, they built a simple code (e.g., red plus green equals the letter “m”) and laid out the bacteria in order on a special piece of paper. The technology could be used for secret watermarks to, say, protect shipments of high-value pharmaceutical drugs from thieves. Here’s how they did it.

1. Specialty research suppliers sell genes for jellyfish proteins that glow blue, green, red, orange or yellow when exposed to fluorescent light. Palacios and Walt ordered a bunch and attached them to a common bacteria, then tested them to see which were the brightest.

2. The scientists used the bacteria to lay out a color-coded message on “paper” made of nitrocellulose. When the message’s intended receivers got it, all they had to do was press it into bacteria food (no, not your son’s socks — it’s called agar) to make it grow. After two days, they shined a fluorescent light on it and the colors appeared.

3. To better hide the secret missives, Palacios and Walt made some bacteria antibiotic-resistant. To read the message, the receivers grew it, then doused it in ampicillin before shining the light on it. The ampicillin killed off all the extra glowing bacteria, leaving only the message behind.

ILLUSTRATION BY DAN MATUTINA

PHOTOGRAPH BY HARRY HOW/GETTY IMAGES FOR USOC

FROM THE BEGINNING, Allyson Felix fit no one’s image of a track superstar. As a teenager, she was skinny, awkward. Her classmates called her “Chicken Legs,” a nickname that naggingly endures to this day. And when she decided to try out for the track team as a freshman at Los Angeles Baptist High School, she showed up wearing high-tops and baggy shorts. Felix might not have looked like much that day, but any doubts about her potential were put to rest then and there. The coach timed her on a short sprint and figured his stopwatch must be wrong. He timed her again and realized a prodigy had just stepped onto his track. She joined the team, blowing by other Division IV athletes to reach the state finals, then winning several state titles in her sophomore year.

Felix hasn’t looked back since. Today, she is one of the greatest runners on earth. The first woman to win three consecutive 200-meter world titles, she’s a bona fide celebrity in track-obsessed Europe. Even off-duty, she’s a striking spokeswoman for the sport, known to trade workout gear for designer outfits and stylish stilettos for a night out.

Now, with the London 2012 Olympic Games kicking off in July, the 26-year-old from Santa Clarita, Calif., is chasing the one prize that’s eluded her: an individual Olympic gold medal. By winning big in London, she also hopes to be recognized with Olympic greats such as Michael Johnson. That’s a lot of weight on Felix’s slender shoulders, but she carries it well. “I call her ‘Seabiscuit,’” says Bobby Kersee, her famous coach. “She’s like the little horse that no one thinks will win. But when you put her next to a big horse, she’s not intimidated, and passes them. She’s a thoroughbred.”

WHEN LINING UP at the start, the wispy Felix hardly looks menacing. Her spindly legs press into the blocks, dwarfed by her competitors’ rippling thighs. She looks less like a sprinter than a distance runner who accidentally wandered into the wrong event — that is, until the gun sounds for the 200-meter. Felix glides around the curve and down the homestretch, usually leaving other runners grimacing in her wake. On her best days, Felix says, running halfway around the track at almost 20 miles an hour feels as fluid and peaceful as floating. “She looks so relaxed, it’s almost as though she’s not putting much effort into it,” says Wes Felix, her brother and manager. “You can’t teach that.”

That effortless stride wasn’t evident when she was growing up in Los Angeles, the daughter of a third-grade teacher and an ordained minister. “She was a little clumsy up through middle school,” Wes says. “She barely won her races. I would have never guessed she would be an Olympian.” But as she grew into her 5-foot-6 frame, Felix honed her natural competitive streak. As a 15-year-old at the 2001 national championships in Eugene, Ore., she raced against Marion Jones, who had just won gold in the Sydney 2000 Olympic Games. Felix lost. She returned to the hotel and sobbed. “Do you realize this is Marion Jones you are talking about?” asked her mother, Marlean. “Why not just run against the other high school runners?” It was no use.

Felix turned pro in 2003, but that didn’t stop her from enrolling at the University of Southern California to pursue an elementary education degree. Being a full-time student meant flying to international meets on weekends, writing papers on the plane and pulling all-nighters, then going to 8 a.m. practices before her first class. “It was overwhelming,” Wes says. “She never backed off her courseload, even during world championship and Olympic years.”

Though Felix racked up world titles, Olympic gold agonizingly slipped through her fingers twice. As an 18-year-old in the Athens 2004 Olympic Games, she finished second. In Beijing, where she was the favorite coming off a personal-best 21.81-second victory at the 2007 world championships, she was beaten by Jamaica’s Veronica Campbell-Brown. It was a crushing loss. Even after winning Olympic gold in the 400-meter relay, Felix says she would trade all three world championship titles for individual gold in the 200. “It is the one missing piece,” she says. “It is the reason I run every day.”

Despite her achievements, she remains almost impossibly modest. During a recent appearance for the charity Right to Play, she traveled to the Middle East and talked to Palestinian refugee girls. “Hey, I’m Allyson. I run track,” Wes recalls her saying. (A spokesman for Right to Play couldn’t resist jumping in and saying, “Actually, she has won 10 world championship medals and three Olympic medals.”) While Felix happily talks to anyone who recognizes her, she doesn’t flaunt her accomplishments. “She is not one to say, ‘I ran a sub-22-second 200,’” says her best friend, Brittany Ricketts Dixon. “She definitely exudes grace.”

Given Felix’s rare combination of charisma and humility, Bobby Kersee believes she’s bound for lasting fame. “I tell all my athletes to be marketable, such that every mom in America wouldn’t be afraid for you to babysit her kids,” he says. “If I needed a babysitter, I’d call Allyson.”

AT THE LONDON 2012 OLYMPIC GAMES, Felix will battle not only the fastest women in the world, but also the perception that the sport she loves is dominated by steroidal superhumans. As the doping scandals have mounted in recent years, Felix has been an outspoken critic of steroid use, and she’s calling for frequent testing in the hopes of winning back a skeptical public. “It is a very pure sport,” she says of sprinting. “Just two people running against each other.”

In her quest for London gold, Felix works out four to six hours a day, ingesting 3,000 calories daily to keep weight on her size 1 frame. To bulk up, she lifts regularly, once telling a reporter that she had leg-pressed 700 pounds and dead-lifted 245. It’s a brutal regimen. “I come from the Vince Lombardi school of coaching,” says Bobby Kersee, “but she gets it done.” Besides, for all the rigor of Felix’s routine, Kersee sees his job ultimately as a simple one. “That stride of hers is God-given,” he says. “My job is not to screw up that stride.”

Pittsburgh writer and Hemispheres contributor CRISTINA ROUVALIS dreams of someday running a sub-200-second 22.

THE 200, IN BRIEF
When Allyson Felix steps onto the track in London this July, she’ll join more than a century’s worth of athletes in an event rich with history.

» When the modern Olympic Games began in 1896, the 200-meter was not on the slate. It was added in 1900 in Paris, and American runner Walter Tewksbury won it in 22.2 seconds.

» In 1904 in St. Louis, the “Milwaukee Meteor,” Archie Hahn, won the 60, 100 and 200. In the last, he broke the Olympic record — and held it for a while. His time of 21.6 took 28 years to beat.

» At the 1936 Berlin Games, in what was widely seen as a repudiation of the Führer, African-American Jesse Owens won four gold medals in the 100, 200, relay and long jump.

» The women’s 200-meter made its debut in the London Games of 1948. Francina Blankers-Koen, a 30-year-old Dutch mother of two, won the 100 and 200, the 80-meter hurdles and the relay. (She might have won more, but a rule limited women to just three individual events in track and field.) She eventually set 16 world records in eight different events.

» In 1960 in Rome, Wilma Rudolph set a new record for the 200, doing it in 23.2 seconds; she went on to win two other golds, making her the first U.S. woman to win three in one Olympic Games.

» In 1968, Mexico City’s high altitude helped pave the way for world records in all the men’s races under 400 meters, plus the long jump and triple jump. While the ’68 Games were the first in which the winners had to undergo a doping test, they are remembered most for the raised-fist “black power” salute of Americans Tommie Smith and John Carlos, gold and bronze winners in the 200, during the medal ceremony. The two were subsequently kicked out of the Olympic Village.

» In 1984 in Los Angeles, Carl Lewis matched the achievement of Jesse Owens, winning gold medals in the same four events: 100, 200, relay and long jump. In 1988, Lewis went on to win gold in the long jump and the 100.

» In 1996 at the Atlanta Games, U.S. sprinter Michael Johnson became the first man in Olympic history to run — and win — both the 200 and 400. His time in the 200 (19.32 seconds) set a new world record and earned him the title “World’s Fastest Man.” Alas, it was not to last: The record was broken in 2008 by the absurdly fast Jamaican Usain Bolt, who did it in 19.30 at the Beijing Games. —Compiled by Michelle Bangert

BLOCK PARTY

Since its 1932 founding, Lego has churned out roughly 560 billion building pieces — enough for every person on earth to construct, say, a tiny schoolhouse. But as the new book The Cult of Lego shows, some obsessives set their sights much higher, using the plastic blocks as inspiration for art (a re-creation of Escher’s staircases), innovation (prosthetic hands) and general awesomeness (an 80,000-brick T. rex skeleton). The book has plenty of lore and lingo, too, which will come in handy should you visit the new Legoland — the world’s biggest — in Winter Haven, Fla., or hobnob with fellow AFOLs (Adult Fans of Lego) at the BrickFair convention Jan. 14-15 in Birmingham, Ala.

FEMME FATALE

Plotwise, Haywire is nothing new: An elite agent is double-crossed and seeks revenge on the folks who set her up. Yawn. But factor in director Steven Soderbergh’s decision to assign the lead role to mixed martial arts star Gina Carano, and you’ve got something else entirely. Channing Tatum, Michael Fassbender, Michael Douglas, Antonio Banderas and Ewan McGregor all take turns looking concerned or impressed, and Soderbergh brings a sophisticated touch to this adrenaline-packed thriller, but ultimately it’s Carano’s realistic action scenes that’ll keep audiences riveted. Opens Jan. 20

FRAME CHANGE
Steven Soderbergh’s casting choices aren’t his only surprising moves
The auteur, whose blockbuster filmography includes Ocean’s Eleven and Contagion, has announced that after a few more movies he’s taking a break to try his hand as an artist (a painter, specifically). “I’m interested in exploring another art form while I have the time and ability to do so,” he told the New York Times. “I’ll be the first person to say if I can’t be any good at it and run out of money, I’ll be back making another Ocean’s movie.” That’s quite a fallback.

USE YOUR ILLUSION

Equipped with little more than household items, chamber magician Steve Cohen has been eliciting oohs and aahs from such luminaries as Warren Buffett and David Letterman for more than 10 years. In anticipation of his first show at New York’s Carnegie Hall on Jan. 12, we had him teach us an easy trick to help launch our own careers as professional illusionists.

1. Before the show, fold two $20 bills into eighths. Tuck the folded bills into your shirt collar, one behind each ear.

2. Show the audience that both hands are empty. Say, “I have magic elbows that help me whenever I need some cash!” Lift your right elbow toward the audience and point to it with your left hand. While everyone is looking at that spot, quickly grab the folded $20 bill from your collar with your right hand and keep it hidden there.

3. Repeat the move for the left side.

4. Bring both of your hands forward, and make them into fists. Cross your arms and then “bump” your fists against your elbows. Open both hands to reveal the cash hidden inside. Study the audience’s response to see if they bought it. Revise as needed.

ROGUES’ GALLERY

Showtime’s protagonists shouldn’t be so easy to root for: a drug-dealing mom, a serial killer and now, the worst yet — a business management consultant (Don Cheadle) who ruthlessly manipulates everyone in his path in “House of Lies,” debuting Jan. 8. Here are three more unapologetically shady protagonists making trouble on cable:

Kenny Powers in “Eastbound & Down” (HBO) • Danny McBride is back as the baseball washout who is his own (and everybody else’s) worst enemy.

Tom Kane in “Boss” (Starz) • Kelsey Grammer sheds all traces of lovable psychiatrist as a take-no-prisoners Chicago mayor with a brain disorder.

Frank Gallagher in “Shameless” (Showtime) • The Gallagher kids might be better off without their degenerate, money-squandering dad, played by William H. Macy.

STRANGERS IN A STRANGE LAND

Los Angeles is surreal already, but the clocks will really start melting when “In Wonderland: The Surrealist Adventures of Women Artists in Mexico and the United States” opens at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art on Jan. 29. Works by famous women surrealists like Louise Bourgeois and Frida Kahlo will be on display, as well as paintings and sculpture by lesser-known artists. Here’s a guide to figuring out which of the latter you might like:

IF YOU LIKE — LOOK FOR
Joan Miró — Alice Rahon
René Magritte — Helen Lundeberg
Max Ernst — Julia Thecla
Yves Tanguy — Jacqueline Lamba
Man Ray — Kati Horna
Salvador Dalí — Remedios Varo

SHE’S THE MAN
Glenn Close goes undercover in Albert Nobbs

Now that’s a passion project: It’s been 30 years since Academy Award nominee Glenn Close took the lead role in an off-Broadway play about a woman passing as a man in order to work as a waiter in 19th-century Ireland, and 20 since she started trying to turn it into a film. She even co-wrote the Albert Nobbs screenplay (after acquiring the rights to the short story it’s based on). “There’s something deeply affecting about Albert’s life,” Close says. “She never stopped continuing to move me.” There’s a good chance the Academy will be moved, too. Opens Jan. 27

QUOTED

“I very much doubt that our grandchildren will understand the distinction between that which is a computer and that which isn’t.”
From Distrust That Particular Flavor, a collection of essays by sci-fi master William Gibson. Out Jan. 3

"DOES THE RED CAR in the lot belong to you?" asks the manager at Silver’s at the Wharf, an elegantly homey seafood joint tucked below Highway 1 in Fort Bragg, Calif. I nod, figuring there’s a good chance I left the headlights on. "Well, in that case, I don’t mind telling you that your order may take a little longer than usual. Our cooks can’t stop staring at it."

I don’t blame them. While you wouldn’t normally expect the sight of a compact SUV to bring a kitchen to a standstill, there’s just something about the lines of the Range Rover Evoque that holds the gaze (as my old high school buddy Kris and I noticed at almost every stoplight we hit on our way out of the Bay Area). It’s a look that seems to recognize both the familiar and the revolutionary; a look that all but gasps, "What is that?"

It’s a fair question. British carmaker Land Rover and its luxury offshoot, Range Rover, have always excelled at producing behemoths that look equally at home chewing up the outback and gleaming in Hollywood driveways. That the sporty Evoque fits in either scenario but can also tear up city streets, thanks to coupe-style handling and acceleration (and, to a degree, fuel economy), is undeniably appealing.

Fortified by our seafood lunch, we keep the ocean on our left before cutting inland, where, tempted by the Evoque’s evident sure-footedness, I start tackling tight curves more aggressively than my copilot appreciates. I’ve been told that many car commercials are filmed here, and while trying to re-create the moves from a few, I suggest Kris concentrate on the scenery and busy himself with the iPod. We began the journey, as all good road-trippers should, with a mix of drive-worthy tunes, but as we find ourselves dipping in and out of pockets of sunlit fog, the forest getting taller and denser, the storybook landscape calls for something heavier on the reverb. Fleet Foxes, with its soaring Pacific Northwest harmonies, does the trick.

After cruising along the 101 for a while, we turn off to pick up the aptly named Avenue of the Giants. It’s there that Kris realizes his favorite out of all the car’s features: its panoramic roof, through which he can peer up at the cathedral of redwoods. And it’s there that I realize why this place gets top billing in Woody Guthrie’s "This Land Is Your Land." It’s truly humbling.

We stop to stretch our legs on a half-hour hike in the Rockefeller Forest, renowned for its old-growth trees. The redwoods, with their gnarled, knotty trunks, aren’t especially beautiful up close, but what they lack in aesthetics they more than make up for in size, some boasting hollows bigger than my first apartment. We take a couple of goofy photos, noting how easily something so majestic can devolve into comedy, as evidenced by the numerous shops in the area with names like "The Legend of Bigfoot" selling wood carvings of cartoon characters. (When we pull off at one, the driver of a brand-new midsize SUV wanders over to confess, in a tone dripping with buyer’s remorse, "I didn’t know there was a new Range …")

After cooling off with a brisk dip in a secluded river, we’re again bound for the coast — this time to end our day’s journey in Eureka, where we check into the Carter House Inns, home to the acclaimed Restaurant 301. We pick a bottle of wine from the list of 3,500 — which Kris, whose nerves are still frayed, appreciates keenly — and order an extravagant meal that includes Humboldt Bay oysters and locally raised duck. But not before making sure the Evoque is safely out of sight of the kitchen.

Hemispheres executive editor Sam Polcer’s beat-up pickup truck attracts stares, too — but for entirely different reasons.

2012 RANGE ROVER EVOQUE COUPE
Tthe bells and whistles

Starting Price: $44,995

Engine: A 240-hp turbocharged direct-fuel-injected 2.0L four-cylinder engine means power and good mileage for an SUV (28 mpg highway/18 mpg city).

Performance: Selectable programs for different terrains, along with an agile suspension, full-time intelligent all-wheel drive and manual override paddle shifters, make this one of the world’s most luxurious rally cars.

Perks: The design is highly customizable, thanks to options that include 10 exterior colors, while an 8-inch touchscreen control panel and an 11-speaker Meridian sound system will please tech-savvy road-trippers.

ILLUSTRATION BY ALEX NABAUM

WHEN MIKE COHEN WAS 2, his parents bought him a little white piano for Hanukkah. Forget the fact that Cohen actually recalls this, which is a feat unto itself — what’s most intriguing is that this children’s toy embodied two concepts that would end up guiding his life. “I remember a sense of fascination I had with the piano,” Cohen says, “by both the mathematics of it, in a very abstract sense, and the idea that you could combine all these patterns of threes and twos into sounds. It seemed like this wondrous machine, this world of potential.”

That same sense of potential colors his days at Google’s Mountain View, Calif., headquarters (a.k.a. the Googleplex), where the 50-something Brooklyn, N.Y., native has been manager of speech technology since 2004. Cohen oversees the internationalization project for the speech recognition team — a mouthful, no doubt, but it boils down to some pretty cool stuff you can now do with your mobile phone or computer, provided it’s running Google’s Chrome browser.

Ironically, Cohen, who took French in high school, has little facility with foreign languages (unless you count the inflections of his native Brooklynese), but he does have an ear for music. After graduating from Boston’s Berklee College of Music with a degree in composition, Cohen spent seven years playing guitar with his own sextet, and at one point even traveled to Haiti to study voodoo rhythms.

In the end, however, his scientific side won out. Cohen got a Ph.D. in computer science from the other Berkeley — at the University of California — and spent the next two decades working in speech technology both at Stanford and at a company of his own. “I was always partly a scientist, partly a composer,” he says. “But as I got interested in computation, I was drawn to speech recognition because the same set of cognitive questions came up.” Speech and music, he explains, “are the two complex auditory signals that humans have evolved to communicate with.”

In 2004, it became clear to Cohen that speech technology was going mobile. Though he thought about starting another firm, he ultimately went with Google, impressed by the company’s “focus on big data,” he says. He’s been working on its speech recognition technology ever since.

Here’s how it works: Say you’re looking for a place to grab dinner in L.A., but you’re in your car and it’s unsafe to type in your request. After you click the “mic” button on your phone, a box pops up onscreen instructing you to “speak now.” You say “Los Angeles restaurants” and — voilà! — the voice search software transforms your words to text and links you to any number of relevant websites. (This is also much the same functionality that the iPhone’s Siri software famously provides.)

But what if you’re one of the 5.5 billion people who don’t speak English? Cohen knew it wouldn’t be enough to offer voice search in just one language, so in 2009 the speech recognition team began the arduous process of bringing the tech to the rest of the globe. You’d think they’d start with something easy, like Spanish; “We chose Mandarin,” Cohen says, laughing. The idea was to get a head start on grappling with every possible linguistic obstacle in this notoriously complex Chinese dialect before moving on to other languages. “Besides, there were a couple of people in the Beijing office really raring to go,” he says, “and there’s nothing like a motivated engineer to make things happen.”

The language modeling process, which took almost a year for Mandarin Chinese, can now be carried out in a few weeks. Operating like a linguistic hit squad, a team of native speakers travels to the target country armed with 30 or 40 Android phones, which they distribute to temp employees who take them out into the community to record locals. A couple of days and 250,000 or so utterances later, the data is used to create a statistical model that “learns” enough of the vocabulary, grammar and syntax to be deployed on the country’s Google search page. As word spreads and millions of Koreans, Indians or Russians, for example, discover they can Google with just their voices, the model actually starts training itself, through what Cohen calls “unsupervised learning.”

At last count, 27 language models have been completed, including five variants of English and four of Spanish, along with more exotic languages like Afrikaans, Bahasa Malay and even pig Latin, done as a stunt for April Fool’s Day.

And it goes even deeper. “Let me demo this for you,” Cohen says as he grabs my iPhone (his Android was on the blink that day, which should please the ghost of Steve Jobs to no end) and clicks on my Google Translate app. “Say I want to go from English to Spanish. And I want to do it by talking.” Cohen says “good night” into the phone and the text “buenas noches” appears (or, if he had hit the mic button, it would have been spoken). Selecting the program’s conversation mode will activate its “turn taking” feature, so if your Spanish comprises nothing beyond, well, “buenas noches,” you’ll still be able to converse with your Chilean colleague by sticking the phone in the middle of the table and waiting a few seconds for the device to translate what each of you says.

The technology remains a work in progress, but the goal is as simple as it is ambitious: to allow people who speak different languages to communicate seamlessly in real time, a sort of inverse Babel. “The user should never have to wonder whether they can accomplish their current task by speaking,” Cohen says. “If they want to speak, they should assume they can.”

ARNIE COOPER, a Santa Barbara, Calif.–based writer and part-time ESL instructor, uses Google Voice to help his students improve their accents — driving them crazy in the process.

PHOTOGRAPHS BY LISA SHIN

HEAVY METAL
Ultramodern weights take the homely out of home fitness

Unless you have your own gym, work as a personal trainer or are Billy Blanks, there’s only one place for your hand weights — in the dusty shadows behind the front door. (“I use them as a doorstop!” you insist nervously when dinner guests arrive.) There’s a better solution: Danish designer Menu, known for futuristic stainless steel candle holders, jewelry trees and shoehorns, has contrived this set of magnetic weights that curve around each other like a Miró sculpture. Is it a paperweight? Objet d’art? Postmodern flute? Enlighten visitors only if you care to. Now that your dumbbells have come into the light, their cultural weight is in your hands. $100 / www.creativedanes.com

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