When President Clinton flew into North Korea to release current.tv reporters Laura Ling and Euna Lee, it brought the communist country again back into the American news spotlight (not that the missiles haven’t attracted world-wide attention). Sara Wang joined a group of Chinese businessmen and crossed the border into North Korea for four days. Her account of the trip in Slate is a rare glimpse into this mesmerizing, yet saddening world.

The store was empty except for three 10-foot-tall heaps on the ground—one of cabbage, one of tomatoes, and one of turnips. There were no price tags and no customers. A middle-aged woman in a black uniform stood behind the counter, which held small piles of peanuts and pine seeds that looked as though they had been there for a long time.

This fly seemed to really like my wine.

I must admit, I never held an affinity for country music until I moved to Texas. I think if I had stayed in the Midwest, I’d have been shocked to see this gigantic Virginia Beach crowd come out for Brad Paisley.

I like sitting near the front on buses and planes, so that when I arrive at my destination I can hurry right off. This is the view from my favorite spot on the Bolt Bus — my de facto bi-weekly mode of transportation to Washington, DC.

A picturesque ride back to Manhattan via the Metro-North Railroad along the Hudson River. We watched the sunset along the river, then I fell sound asleep on Rob’s shoulder. It’s true what they say; sometimes you need a vacation after the vacation.

The towns along the Hudson Valley contain a series of dichotomies — from an old-fashioned Main Street to the highway, from 10-stall farmers markets to national-chain restaurants, from large chain hotels to quaint bed and breakfasts. As we drove around, I was struck by the beauty of these small town traffic lights strung up across the intersection.

The locavore movement has seen an explosion in recent years, and Blue Hill at Stone Barnes is a huge champion of it with their farm to table concept. Rob managed to snag reservations for my birthday weekend. We walked around the greenhouse, chased after the fowl, passed by the this stack of wood, and ate one of the best meals of my entire life.

Waitress brings around a basket of eggs to educate us on how they’re obtained.

Me: “Are those eggs from the chickens in the coop next to the greenhouse?”
Her: “No, the chickens you saw are the ones… we eat.”