Tag: history

Chicago is, was, and forever will be: THAT. BITCH.

I’m Gonna Get You by Bizarre Inc. feat. Angie Brown X Gypsy Woman (She’s Homeless) by Crystal Waters X Once in a Lifetime Love by Robin S

Have you ever been somewhere and the most beautiful, majestic, regal bitch you’ve ever lied eyes on walks in the room and your breath is snatched completely out of your lungs, your wig ripped from your bald scalp, and your credit score demolished right before your very eyes? That is the power that is Chicago. She is, and forever will be, THAT BITCH. Chicago truly is unlike anywhere else on earth. Whether it be the dramatic jagged skyline reaching into the clouds visible from miles away in every direction. Or the astounding density of architectural marvels that one can encounter in any block. Or the absolute queerness of it all. Or the trains (I mean as in transportation, ya fuckin’ freaks). And I looooooove trains!!! (and I mean both meanings, ya prudes!) I imagine one could spend a lifetime in Chicago and still never fully know her. She is deep, and layered, and loving, and creative, and scarred, and a hard ass, and full of emotion (good and bad) and sometimes smells weird. But honestly, who doesn’t??

I won’t bore you with a general history lesson of Chicago (because let’s be real, I am certainly not qualified to give one) but what I do want to do is share some of my favorite learnings from my last few times visiting. So sit down, take a bong rip, chug some Nyquil, do some Kegels, and get comfy cause it is Matt Storytime Hour™️!

October 2015. Imagine me, Matt, as a spry young twink just fresh out of college and ready to explore the world. Tax burden and heartburn and joint pain hadn’t yet made their appearance in my life (they make their grand entrance in the third act, so stay tuned!) Obama was still president. It bears repeating: OBAMA WAS STILL PRESIDENT. Anyways- Matt 1.0 (how I will refer to Matt in the 2015 era) flew to Chicago to spend time with some friends he’d made that year (Gerina, Brooke, Sam and Annemarie- I love you bbs!) Touching down in O’Hare, I was whisked away to the magical community of Naperville. Naperville is a suburb of about 150,000 people located about 30 miles west of downtown Chicago. Originally a pioneer outpost, Naperthrill grew quickly in the 1960’s – 2000’s as a major Chicago suburb. It’s leafy, and spread out, and has some nice suburban homes, and a cute lil’ downtown, and some office parks, and that’s about it. So why, you ask, was I whisked away here? Cause the ICONIC Shmancy (name modified to protect privacy lolol) (aka Brooke’s mom) lives there and she let me stay! (Thanks Shmancy!) Needless to say, most of the time in Naperchill was spent getting stoned to the mothafuckin’ bone with the girls and watching silly movies (aka the most perfect evening imaginable). BUT! Naperkill also happens to be right on a prominent rail line to downtown Chicago, meaning one can buy a cheap lil Metra ticket (I think back then it was like $1.50?) and BAM! You’re in the thick of it. So the next morning Matt 1.0 was on that train getting ready for ✨adventure✨. Now let me tell you- October in Chicago is GORGEOUS. It’s sunny, and warm (but with a tiny lil crisp in the air) and the cicadas have finally shut the fuck up and it’s just perfect. So I spent all day walking around downtown with the girls- going to the big reflective bean, checking out Navy Pier, getting some bomb ass food, just being GAY ya know? This was my first true Chicago day and let me tell you, it was pure magic. Over the next couple days I got to explore Boystown and Rogers Park (and spent a memorable evening at Berlin Nightclub where me and Annemarie took some cute photos- RIP Berlin </3 ) and got to explore many of the neighborhoods on the north side. Honestly my lil brain was just drenched in serotonin. Flooded. Serotonin-logged, if you will. So even within a few days, Chicago held my heart. It would be several moons before I would see my love again. Many unspeakable horrors happened during that time (aging. It was aging). But I was steadfast in my belief that I would return. And return I would.

Now, let’s fast forward just a lil tiddlywink to Matt 4.0 (Matt 2.0 and 3.0 will be discussed at a later time, don’t you worry. I can’t show all my cards at once, can I really now??) February 2026. Mere weeks ago. Imagine it- a much less spry, much less twink-esque Matt finds himself back in the windy city to celebrate my iconic friend Vee’s birthday (aka THEE VEE that I hosted drag brunch and karaoke with in Seattle. Yes, THAT Vee.) Vee’s incredible partner (shoutout Courtney!) plotted a big ol’ surprise party for Vee at their place right under Vee’s nose. And lemme tell you- there were some CLOSE CALLS. Someone seriously run this girl her Oscar. So picture this- as the birthday girl approaches, there’s a house full of like 30 drunk, loud ass queer people trying their best to not make a peep. Somehow, someway, by the grace of Grace Jones we didn’t blow our cover, but I truly thought it was a wrap. Now when I tell you I haven’t been to a good old fashioned house party like this in a MINUTE, I’m not joking. There were such good tunes, and snacks, and bevvies, and VIBES. I even drank! A cocktail! Made with gin, soda water and Emergen-C! Yes- the powder you put in drinks to not get sick- THAT Emergen-C. And like, you’re probably thinking wow what kind of foul bitch would do that. To which I answer- this foul bitch. And you know what? The drink did in fact slap. Not only did the flavor profiles really compliment each other, but my immune system was as strong as a Belarussian ox afterwards. Gin and Emergen-C literally will sterilize anything inside or adjacent to you, build up your immunity, give you a firm pat on the ass and send you on your merry way. Besides the bubble of absolute queer joy that was this party (srsly tho shoutout Courtney for putting that together), this most recent visit to America’s second city (suck a dick LA!) was fantastic. I got to spend some quality time with Charlie and Sam and we bopped around Wicker Park (which is a really cool lil area of town I’ve never been to!) The neighborhood is dense, has some incredible architecture, and has a bunch of cool stores. A standout was Myopic Books– three floors of pure unadulterated gay literary mayhem. I found some truly incredible finds like an old book of Erté visuals (for anyone who doesn’t know, Erté was a Russian-French artist who was a huge presence in the art and fashion scene in the 1920’s and is truly one of my gay creative inspirations). In addition, I got an Agatha Christie book cause duh, a 1970’s horror book about a cursed Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff film that kills anyone who watches it, and a lil’ book called the Butch Manual. For obvious reasons. Besides gettin’ all booked up, I got to explore some of Wicker Park’s incredible architectural landmarks- a standout was the row of mansions along Pierce Avenue, including the Hermann Weinhardt house. Afterwards, we headed out to Garfield Park, a grand park on Chicago’s west side right off the green line. In addition to housing an absolutely incredible, ornate, 24-karat gold plated dome (seriously- its real gold. The folks working there confirmed it) Field House, the park is home to the massive Garfield Park Conservatory. Now, I don’t know if y’all have had the opportunity to visit Chicago’s parks, but this city does NOT FUCK AROUND WITH THEIR PARKS. Like the amount of work that went into constructing the ornate 1920’s Field House alone is insane. And it’s still being used as a gym and community center, which is awesome! Back in the day there was a horsetrack in the park where quaint old 1920’s folks would bring their horses to race around and get wasted and get into fights with each other, like turn of the century Nascar. But before we totally blow our load, we have to acknowledge the absolute star of the show here- the Conservatory. Built in 1907, the massive 4.5 acre complex of greenhouses contains thousands of plant species from around the world, including rare cacti, palms, ferns, bromeliads, orchids, euphorbia, and so so so much more. I cannot begin to explain to you in words how magical this place is. Each room is a massive, glass-enclosed fairytale wonderland transporting you to a faraway dreamscape with massive, alien-looking plants, ponds with glass art and koi fish, intricate wrought iron trellises with flowering vines, massive hanging staghorn ferns, and a room so fragrant with intoxicating floral scents that I wanted to pull out my poppers, chug the bottle, and pass out right then and there like Dorothy in the poppy fields in the Wizard of Oz. There’s also a gorgeous tiled Moorish-style fountain in the main room. So basically- it EATS. No, that’s not enough. It DEVOURS. If you’re visiting, I can’t tell you how important it is that you drop literally whatever it is you’re doing (except like, maybe your steering wheel if you’re driving, don’t do that) and head out to the park.

Anyways, because it’s been a while and I feel like I haven’t been able to be unhinged with y’all and it’s eating me alive from the inside, I wanted to share the story about the time I hooked up with someone while watching Shrek. I met this guy in Seattle who was from Reno and we immediately trauma bonded because, duh. We went and got some bomb ass margaritas and then went back to his place. One thing led to another and we’re fooling around and for some reason, my brain is like “Matt- ask him to put on Shrek for background noise”. So, because I’m very unwell, I ask him to do it. Like as we’re making out. So he does it and my mind, feeling at peace, is like ok we can continue. Fast forward a few minutes and we’re doing stuff (I won’t go into the details here because there may be CHILDREN reading this blog but honestly if there are how the actual fuck did you end up here I am so so so so sorry for the trauma I’m causing you please log off immediately, destroy your phone, and tell your parents you need to become Amish and distance yourself as far as possible from technology because in all honesty how the hell did you end up here? What possible keyword could a gen alpha person have searched to get here? Like I don’t have a single mention of anything related to 6 7 or Roblox or Billy Eilish or whatever the fuck they’re into. Ohmygod wait now those things are mentioned here and maybe their algorithm is like ‘hey check out this blog where this ancient homo mentioned 6 7 we think you’ll like it’. SHIT I just said 6 7 again. Oh well. Anyways, where was I?) Oh yeah, Shrek sex. So anyways we’re doing stuff and then in the middle of things all I hear is “DONKEH!!!!!!!” And like y’all, I’m sorry but no matter what may have been happening once I hear that phrase I am going to stare straight at the TV like a meerkat sensing a hawk overhead. Or like if I was a sleeper cell agent and DONKEH was my trigger word. Who knows, maybe it is? I guess we’ll find out tomorrow. Note for tomorrow Matt: if you wake up covered in someone else’s blood in a place you don’t recognize with no memories of the past 12 hours, then you have confirmation that you’re a sleeper cell agent and DONKEH is your trigger word. Anyways WOW this really got away from me! Maybe it goes without saying but after that night we never talked again. Ahh, fun times.

Moral of the story is: Chicago is a celebration of greatness, a layered story of loss, and a lighthouse of resilience. I plan on posting several more galleries (and stories!) of her as I spend more time there (also check out my other gallery I do have of her on the blog here). If there’s any one spot I recommend you go visit immediately it’s the Garfield Park Conservatory. And DONKEH fills me with insatiable bloodlust.

Chicago- Winter 2026

February 15, 2026

architecture, chicago, gay, history, illinois, midwest, nature, photography, plants, shrek, travel, United States
Everyone named Tyler is a messy bitch- and other learnings from Olympia, Greece.

Rêverie by Debussy & One Summer’s Day by Joe Hisaishi

Growing up, my mom cultivated the most beautiful backyard garden. Come springtime, the long cold and harsh desert air warmed up just enough to finally allow some brave shoots to emerge from their cozy soil-covered winter home. By the time May came around, the backyard would be an explosion of the most vibrant blooms imaginable. Powerful bursts of cobalt flax, radiant saffron California poppies, indigo stalks of salvia and lavender, snow white blankets of candytuft. The scent of lilac clung to light afternoon breezes. For some reason, I’ve been finding myself dreaming a lot recently about this childhood wonderland. It felt like a truly safe space to me. I’m not sure what deeper meaning there may be to my recent dreamland visits (am I feeling unsafe in the current political shitshow? Am I missing my parents? Am I longing for simpler times?) What I can say is that Olympia, Greece in the springtime captures this powerful essence. It’s a potent mixture of nostalgia, peace, a wonder of nature’s beauty and a tinge of mournfulness that I can’t quite put my finger on. Maybe it’s the realization that nothing, no matter how beautiful, truly lasts forever? Regardless, I had to set that scene for you so you can understand how impactful the beauty of Olympia was for me. Now, what we all came for: the TRASH.

Imagine: you’re an 18 year old Gen Z fuckboy named Tyler. You went to high school in a suburb of Dallas- maybe Plano? (Idk- Plano gives me waspy, suburban, LuluLemon-caramel iced macchiato with 3 and a half Splenda packets-climate change isn’t real energy). Your body is sustained solely off of Monster Energy™️, Tostinos Pizza Rolls and vaping. You work in a Gamestop warehouse part time, live at home, and go out riding with the boys on the weekends (no homo). As a graduation gift, your grandma LuAnn (her backstory coming shortly) decides to give you an amazing gift. The gift of a lifetime, she says. LuAnn is just so proud of you for graduating high school! (even if it involved paying off multiple teachers).

Before I move on, here’s Luann’s story: born on a ranch 3 hours outside of Odessa, Texas in 1945, LuAnn never had anything handed to her. She knew how to milk cows before grade school. She knew how to ride a horse before she could walk. She could lasso a wildebeest before knowing her ABC’s. Ya know, typical Texas shit. LuAnn was THEE belle of the ball of her high school graduating class of 5, and before you knew it she found a great job working as a secretary at Exxon (don’t @ me ok, I only said she’s a secretary bc the 60s were fucking sexist as shit). She also found herself a man. Meet Rick, an Exxon exec and high roller. Rick drives a Cadillac. Rick smokes cigars. Inside. In the middle of the day. Rick likes bourbon, and ribeye, and segregated schools. Rick goes to church every Sunday (sometimes drunk but we don’t talk about that teeheehee). Rick and LuAnn hit it off and before you know it, LuAnn has a bun in the oven. They move into a BeAuTiFuL house on the outskirts of Dallas in a nice gated community (you know, to keep the “riff raff” out. And by that I mean anyone without a hedge fund, a credit score of 845, or a skin color darker than George Bush Senior.) Their daughter Lisa (I literally googled the most popular girls’ baby name of 1967 and Lisa came up- it feels correct) was just the sweetest little slice of apple pie you ever did meet, and she did great in school! A chip off the old block. Flash forward to 2025: Rick is dead (boating accident on a yacht in the Gulf of Mexico oh how tragique), LuAnn is a golden girl who loves her a nice top with a sensible shoulder pad (and I mean ‘top’ as a blouse, not a man, you pigs) and a big fat ol’ net worth. She also has grandchildren, who she adores!! Sure, they will always be stuck at age 8 in her mind and sure, they may have stolen some of her jewelry to pawn for weed and SURE, mayyyybe they totaled her car after she said they couldn’t drive it, but they will always be her babies. One of these is the aforementioned Tyler. Now that the scene has been adequately set, let’s continue.

We hop on a bus to go visit this incredible UNESCO world heritage site (the ruins of Olympia, not Plano Texas) and immediately see Tyler laying horizontally across several seats with a plastic bag by his head, glazed over eyes, and a shirt that says ‘Running on Ravioli’. LuAnn, sitting in the row behind him, is NOT amused. As the tour staff checks in with Tyler’s barely animated corpse to make sure he won’t projectile vomit onto the seats, I briefly lock eyes with LuAnn. I see anguish. Embarrassment. And white hot fury. And hell hath no fury like an angry geriatric Texan. It’s the kind of fury cloaked behind a ‘bless your heart’. That shit is lethal. As Tyler mumbles assurances that he is “just a little hungover”, the bus takes off. It’s at this time that a third necessary character is introduced.

Meet Bud. Bud lives in South Florida. And no, I don’t mean Miami. I mean the Everglades. As in, the GLADE glades. Bud lives off of a dirt road you access by turning right 2 stop signs past the old oak tree. Bud owns a fan boat and regularly goes deep into the swamp to drink beers. By himself. Bud has witnessed, in person, a giant Burmese python and equally giant alligator fighting (at least that’s what he told me. Bud could also be a liar). Bud wears a single gold hoop earring, and a necklace with a shark tooth. For some reason, I am deeply, deeply attracted to Bud. Am I Lana del Rey?

Now that we’ve met Bud let’s return back to our scene on the bus: as Tyler barely holds on to life, hungover to the point of being comatose, Bud chuckles to himself. As the bus makes turns on the windy road, Tyler’s head rolls weightlessly from side to side. LuAnn looks on, unamused. After what I can only imagine was a hellish 45 minutes for Tyler- we arrive. The site of Ancient Olympia is absolutely breathtaking. Situated amongst rolling forested hills, the ruins of several monumental structures are peppered with large trees, winding pathways, and verdant fields of springtime blossoms. Brilliant pops of scarlet and electric violet contrasted by crumbling stone and marble columns make one feel that type of way I described in the first paragraph. That feeling of wistfulness and nostalgia. Of deep serenity. I wish I could bottle that feeling up and take a whiff whenever I get a news alert from NPR about some new asinine executive order being released. Now imagine at the absolute deepest point of your meditative moment you’re startled awake by the unmistakable sound of retching. You hear it nearby. TYLER. You look around and see LuAnn completely disassociating from reality. Tyler, in his ‘Running on Ravioli’ shirt, has puked off of a bridge. The main bridge. That everyone is on. Right by the entrance.

To my right- Bud chuckles again, “That guy must’ve had one helluva night”. I can only nod in agreement. And yet to myself I wonder ”do you think Bud knows how badly I want him right now?”

For the rest of the day Tyler collapses in on himself like a dying star and curls into a compact ball in the back of the bus. LuAnn stays with him (presumably to make sure he’s ok and do any damage control) as her friends at the country club would just LOOOVE to hear about how her grandson was incarcerated in Greece for puking on a UNESCO World Heritage Site. As she furiously dials her friend who works in the US Embassy to avoid an absolute PR nightmare, Tyler vapes.

In summary, Olympia is an incredible piece of history preserved. It includes the remains of one of the 7 Wonders of the Ancient World (The Temple of Zeus), a large arena which was the site of the original Olympic games (attended by folks from alllll around the Mediterranean) and several other culturally significant monuments. The Peloponnese in springtime is indescribably magnificent with it’s prismatic carpet of flora. If you’re named Tyler you will always be known as a messy bitch (and…..do we kinda stan??) LuAnn will always regret her decision to bring along Tyler to Greece (and not that guy she’s been eye balling at the Fort Worth country club sipping Arnold Palmers for the last two months. He does have a wedding ring, but those can always be slipped off, right? 😈) Bud is a beautiful specimen of swamp meat. MY swamp meat. And lastly- maybe I’ll dream tonight of that garden. That most special garden of poppies and lavender.

Ολυμπία, Ελλάδα (Olympia, Greece)- March 2025

May 6, 2025

archaeology, architecture, europe, greece, history, mediterranean, nature, olympia, peloponnese, spring, travel, tyler
Kotor, Montenegro- The Girl We All Wish We Could Be

Kotor, Montenegro is a middle sibling who went to therapy, had the hard conversations, got on Prozac and figured their shit out.

They could’ve been the flashy teenager who peaked in high school and is now a depressed 45 year old with 6 kids, a crippling gambling addiction and terrible credit (cough cough- BELGRADE (Serbia)). They could’ve been that guy who denied who they really are and spent 30 years living a lie as a straight laced accountant instead of being the alligator farming, Civil War reenacting theater nerd they always wanted to be (I’m looking at you SKOPJE (Macedonia)). They could have even been that guy who calls himself a “nice guy” on Tinder but we all know really has at least 5 bodies in their basement and still listens to Maroon 5 (SARAJEVO 👀 (Bosnia & Herzegovina)). But no- they did the work and made sure their insane family dynamics didn’t drag them down. Thank you for rising above and being the best you you can be, Kotor. We see you sis.

Besides coming from the 2nd most dysfunctional family of all time (the 1st being Britney Spears bc I mean come on) Montenegro is a “newcomer” to the geopolitical world stage. Declaring independence from Serbia in 2006, Montenegro has been able to remain relatively peaceful and under-the-radar despite being surrounded by an extremely volatile geographic area. Can we be honest for a sec tho- we all agree that the Balkans, as a region, are METAL AS FUCK RIGHT🤘? As a tiny, isolated(ish), mountainous, sparsely populated nation- Montenegro has many roadblocks ahead of it. However with the possibility of future EU membership (it is currently a candidate nation) and recent huge growth in tourism, Montenegro has the potential to really blossom into a whole new bitch. The question though: does Montenegro want to be a new bitch? Or does she want to stay the same bitch that she is? Has anyone asked what Montenegro really wants? I guess it’s the identity crisis that so many places face with the potential of “development” and “progress”. It’s an extremely tricky balancing act that I feel, unfortunately, only favors the wealthy at the expense of locals and everyone else. Time will tell, I suppose.

To be honest- the Kotor region might be the most beautiful area I’ve ever had the pleasure of visiting. That’s a strong statement (and maybe a hot take but come fight me if you disagree) but I have to say it inspired me so strongly with it’s dramatic mountain ranges, prismatic blue waters and fascinating mixture of cultures. The city of Kotor lies at the head of a very complex, incredibly scenic ria, or basically a fjord. It’s actually considered to be the southernmost fjord in Europe. To get to the inner bay (where Kotor and other towns lie) you first enter a narrow channel from the Adriatic on which one side lies Croatia and the other lies Montenegro’s Adriatic coast. Once past the initial bottleneck, there is a first inner bay, along which lie several towns. Then, you pass through a second, even narrower channel between sheer cliffs, before entering the inner inner bay. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. The inner-inner bay is narrow and flanked on every side by extremely tall, snowcapped mountains. It’s honestly so beautiful that it made something snap in my brain. Like you know when you see a really cute dog and something in your lizard brain activates and you want to drop what you’re doing and pinch it’s cheeks and roll around on the floor? Well, it was kinda like that, but like, in a nature way. Idk, maybe I’m just mentally ill 🤷

The town of Kotor itself has been a thing for like, almost 2000 years (pretty par for the course for this corner of the globe). It has been part of Venice, Serbia, Bulgaria, the Ottoman Empire, Ragusa, Yugoslavia, and several other interim powers. Each of these has left it’s mark on the area- whether through its architecture, language, food, or lack of fucks to give. The old town is a tangled web of narrow streets, small plazas, cathedrals, bazaars, archways, and CATS. SO MANY CATS. They even have a museum dedicated to cats- called the Kotor Cats Museum. Fun fact: Kotor used to be known as Cattaro (when Italian was the dominant language) so it’s really a huge missed opportunity to not call it the CATtaro Museum. Like come on that is such a low-hanging-fruit-lazy-ass-pun you just KNOW British tourists on holiday would cackle loudly while smoking their fags (it means a CIGARETTE in British slang god you should know I don’t just sling out slurs. And for the record, I am a fag (derogatory) so let me reclaim that word if I want to. Shit. And also for the record according to dictionary.com it also means “a rough or defective spot in a woven fabric- a blemish or flaw” so if I wanted to use that term to describe that I WILL. Fight me. Although that would be homophobic to fight me over reclaiming a gay slur, and you don’t want to be that right?)

Aaaanyways (glances disapprovingly to the homophobes) Kotor is also distinctive for it’s super thicc city walls, which extend up an insanely steep cliffside to include a small hillside church (The Church of Our Lady of Remedies) and a Venetian castle and fortress overlooking the city (called San Giovanni). There is a very steep set of stairways that lead from the town to San Giovanni known as the Ladder of Kotor and let me tell you, she is STEEP. I wouldn’t say the hike up was as difficult as Palamidi in Nafplio (link to a description of my suffering in that blog post here) but it was definitely a schlep (side note- is that how that’s spelled? Correct me if I’m wrong). I have to say though- that hike up was genuinely moving. In an emotional way. Seeing the bay stretch out under you in the late afternoon sun as the mountains’ shadows spread out over the water and coastal towns was absolutely splendid. Maybe it was the extreme dehydration or my hormones or something but I legitimately had an emotional moment seeing such a beautiful sight. I felt so inspired by the geometry, the scale, and the contrast of the lights and shadows on the landscape that I could have spent literally all evening there. But alas- as the clock struck 6, much like a plebian Cinderella, I had to leave and return home. I didn’t want to tumble and break my uvula in half on the steep rocky stairs back in the dark- which I undoubtedly would have- if I didn’t leave in time. So gazing out one last time over the windswept cliffs to the picturesque fjord below, I said ciao to Montenegro.

As I wrap up this post, I just want to address this next part directly to Montenegro itself:

YOU ARE PERFECT. YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL. YOU ARE A SLAVIC BADDIE. DON’T FEEL LIKE YOU HAVE TO CHANGE FOR ANYONE.

I felt so inspired and moved here in a way that I can’t really say I’ve felt anywhere else before. So thank you, Montenegro, for giving me that special gift. Especially in the world we all live in right now. You are definitely NOT a fag (non-derogatory: I’m using this in the blemish or flaw definition. Calm the fuck down).

Kotor, Montenegro- March 2025

April 8, 2025

adriatic, architecture, balkans, europe, history, montenegro, nature, travel
Αθήνα, Ελλάδα (Athens, Greece)- Do I even need a witty title? It’s fucking ATHENS.
You heard me right. It’s not Athens, Georgia. It’s not Athens, New York. It sure as hell ain’t Athens, Alabama (yes I checked- that’s a real place). It’s THE Athens. The blueprint. The original. Mother, if you will.

Where do I even begin? Athens has been a Matt bucket list place to visit ever since I came into this world at St. Mary’s Regional Medical Center in the great year of 1993. It’s the cradle of western civilization, democracy, and all that other generic shit listed in school textbooks. It’s also an incredibly interesting and wonderful case study of how cities can revere and honor the past, while evolving to accommodate successive waves and ebbs. Athens is the capital and hub of modern Greece and has been for (checks notes) about 3500 years. No biggie. I mean, Athens really is in a league of it’s own (well, maybe alongside other ancient urban centers like Beijing, Beirut, Varanasi and Damascus). These places have so many layers of history that it’s hard for a little west coast flamer like me to comprehend. Thousands of years of different cultures rising, making their mark, and falling into obscurity. Sometimes gradually, oftentimes abruptly and violently. I mean, they have really seen some SHIT. It really helps put so many things into perspective. Ok enough of the thoughtful bullshit- this is a lavidaveeta post after all. We want 100% balls-to-the-wall utter insanity amirite? *airhorn* *screech**another airhorn**A SECOND LOUDER SCREECH*. So let’s leave the well-versed generalizations of Athens behind and talk about how magical it was for me and my family to experience this marvelous, marble-clad, multi-millennium-spanning metropolis.

Athens greeted us with full springtime glory. The city is absolutely covered in citrus trees- almost every street is lined with bountiful orange trees (which were in bloom and deliciously fragrant, and were also absolutely loaded with oranges), blooming almond trees, fruit-laden lemon trees, and the ubiquitous olive tree. If there’s one thing we learned in Athens (and the Mediterranean in general) it’s that olives are life, laughter, and love. They are everywhere. In the park? Olive trees. The side of the road? Olive trees. Next to your bed as you sleep at night, watching over you like a protective guardian with a warm embrace? Olive trees. They are right there with you, from birth to death; an ever present and delicious presence. Well, for other people. I was afraid to out myself as a (lowers voice) non olive lover. You know, I’m not trying to ruin our standing in the world right now more than we already are (obligatory fuck you Trump fascist pieces of shit). *exhale* Let’s move on.

Plaka. In Greek, Πλάκα. What does it mean, you may ask? Bitch, I’m not a historian, nor am I a master of the Greek language, so I have 0 clues and even fewer guesses. But what I can tell you is that it’s a really beautiful neighborhood in Athens that we spent a lot of time exploring. It was my favorite part of the city hands down bootz. Nestled on the eastern slopes of Acropolis Hill, Plaka is the oldest neighborhood of the current city, and for much of Athens’ history it represented the town itself. I think Plaka is what my smooth-brained US raised self pictured all of Athens to be: narrow, winding, cobbled streets with orange-tiled buildings in bright hues clustered together with bougainvillea bursting between weathered ruins. And don’t get me wrong, Plaka hit each and every one of those points FABULOUSLY. But please, don’t reduce her to a stereotype, because she is so much more than that:
- Plaka is the herds of neighborhood cats- at first appearing feral in nature, but upon closer inspection you see that they are extremely well taken care of by the Plaka community with public (cat-public?) beds and shelters, water and food bowls scattered throughout, and an abundance of people more than happy to love on them. Not a bad life, eh?
- Plaka are it’s buildings. And I don’t mean the large monuments and churches (although those are pretty frenching spectacular as well). I mean the small houses on dead end streets, falling apart through decades (or more??) of neglect, but possessing a fading, decaying beauty. The stories these houses could tell.
- Plaka are it’s birds. The ever-present magpies, which squack frequently and quite frankly sound GOOFY AF. If you have a problem with it, come for me magpies. I’ll fight you. And your family. AND take your shiny things. Bitch.
- Plaka is its roof tiles- strikingly unique, with a decorative, vertical front row of tiles oftentimes featuring sculptures of faces, floral motifs, mythological references or geometric designs. Wikipedia tells me that these are called antefixes and were popular throughout Greece and Roman architecture. NGL- it’s kinda funny that Rome straight up copied a bunch of Greek concepts and gave them slightly different names and applications. It’s like plagiarizing someone’s schoolwork but changing a few things here and there to make it look like your own. LAME. ROME, YOU’RE LAME. I’LL FIGHT YOU AND THE MAGPIES. AT THE SAME TIME.
- Plaka is it’s amazing people:
  - That includes Ramon, a man we met playing a bouzouki (a type of mandolin) on an empty side street to a captive audience of 5 sleeping cats. We stopped, tipped him some euros, and enjoyed his music. Well, little did we know that Ramon is a fucking VIBE. We learned that he LOVES the Chicago Bulls, especially the Dream Team era (duh). He let my brother play his bouzouki, which of course he slayed (shoutout Charlie I know you read the blog or if you don’t you better start now whore!). He gave us shots of rakia (a Greek spirit similar to grappa- very strong!) out of an unmarked bottle and we toasted to Chicago. He also proceeded to yell at a passing tourist who stopped to take pictures of him and his cats (honestly I’d do the same). He then told us that he’s used to being photographed by strangers constantly, without his consent, during peak tourist season. He has had friends find videos of him on TikTok which he wasn’t aware of- fucked up. Ramon now charges for pictures and videos, which is quite cunty (non-derogatory) if you ask me. We love you Ramon, you king.
  - It includes Ana, the lovely owner of a tavern we found early one morning as we stopped across the street to get coffee. Ana was washing the tavern’s patio, watching me as I took endless pictures of the early morning light on some neighboring buildings. Ana (who didn’t speak any English and probably has to deal with so many bumbling buffoons like me all the time) came up to me, and offered for me to go up to the roof of her building and take pictures. I mean, OF COURSE I DID. What I didn’t plan on, however, was getting extremely lost in the building and almost forcing open the wrong door. Ana, noticing my incompetence, came up the stairs and pointed at the very obvious correct pathway up to the roof, while smiling and shaking her head. Ana, you exemplify cuntiness (non-derogatory) in its purest form. We salute you.
  - It includes Romeo, a painter on another side street who was painting these beautiful landscape scenes completely from memory (or straight off the top of the dome?) Either way, they were super detailed, vibrant, and stunning. Romeo also was loudly watching some Greek TV show on his phone where people were screaming at each other- possibly some kind of soap opera?? I choose to believe that’s what it is. Because if so that would ALSO definitely embody cuntiness (non-derogatory).
At this point you’re probably like bitch where did you go that wasn’t Plaka? First of all, go eat a fucking ding dong and calm down. Secondly, a lot of places! I’m gonna give a brief rundown of some of my standout spots and what silliness transpired there:
- Acropolis Hill: I mean duh hello how could we not? It was the first place we visited, all together (I went on the trip with my mom, dad, brother and his girlfriend). It was pleasantly surprising to see the accessibility accommodations they had (including a separate lift to the top) considering most of Athens was very lacking in that infrastructure. But beyond that, like HOLY $W&#(F*CWEN was it incredible. I teared up. Multiple times. Being in the presence of structures that ancient that have been preserved and restored and loved throughout the years is something truly incredible. What wasn’t were the people literally just there to take selfies with some buildings in the background. Pretty cunty (DEROGATORY).
- Piraeus and the Athens Riviera: Piraeus is, for lack of a better analogy, the Tacoma to Athens’ Seattle. And I don’t mean it has an overwhelming stench of decay and a thirst for the blood of virgins. I mean that it’s a port city connected to Athens by way of urban sprawl and freeways with reaaaaal bad traffic. But more than that- she’s also real purty. There’s also this giant development happening in this area along the coast called Ellnikon which sounds and looks good on paper but we are convinced is a giant real estate scam/cult/money laundering scheme. I mean, there were multiple cranes set up that weren’t actually connected to any construction sites and had no materials, an “interactive experience” which had dedicated staff that couldn’t answer simple questions as to the logistics of the development (my brother and his GF went and described the experience as “bizarre and unsettling”- the staff all wore matching powder blue suits, smiled non-stop and were in a giant empty airport hangar with no one else around. Kinda spooky). You know I love mess and scandal so trust I will be watching for updates on this like a HAWK.
- Presidential Palace: There are some guards that change shift here with fruity little shoes with giant flamboyant poofballs on em and that high step by each other while people take pictures. It was kinda gay NGL. But like, not in a fun way? Moreso in a #twinks4trump way. Idk- anything related to the military I could literally give -5000 fucks about so this was probs my least favorite thing in Athens.
- Stavros Niarchos Park: Just casually a giant beautiful park with extensive gardens full of olive trees (of course) and native Mediterranean species built ON THE ROOF OF A GIANT LIBRARY. America could never. ROME could never (suck it Rome).
- Temple of Hephaestus & Ancient Agora: Some stunning partially restored temples, both Greek and Byzantine, contrasted with the fully restored ancient Agora (the original marketplace of the city). The architecture and grounds were stunning. Even more stunning? The ABS on the statues- my LORD what kind of belly fat blasting phen-phen Ozempic Jenny Craig lifestyle were these people into? I was gooped, gagged, and only slightly aroused.
In summary, I’d like to make an analogy. Athens is a drag queen. But not any drag queen. She is a LEGEND. Think a Sasha Colby. She has been there, done that, and still looks fucking stunning. She has fellow legendary sisters that have weathered the storms of time together (i.e. Damascus, Beijing, etc. Also wouldn’t Damascus or Beijing kinda be cunty (non-derogatory) drag names? I think so). She has birthed many drag children (yes, even including the one she’s maybe a little embarrassed by because they’re loud and obnoxious- ROME). She has forever left her mark in the world, even as the world has not always been respectful or kind back to her. She has grace, and flaws, and an undying spirit. She will open her home to you, feed you, give you wine, and punch you in the face if you offend her. We will forever love and respect you, Athens. Thank you for welcoming my family. Thank you for sharing your stories with us. And most of all, thank you for letting us drink from your unlabeled glass bottle of (maybe homemade?) rakia on a random side street on a beautiful afternoon.

Before I finish this post- I would like to make a formal statement to the city of Rome: I do not actually think you are loud, obnoxious, plagiarizing, lame or cunty (derogatory). I simply made these statements for the purpose of artistic and comedic expression. Please don’t sue me ❤

Αθήνα, Ελλάδα (Athens, Greece)- March 2025
March 28, 2025

architecture, athens, byzantine, europe, greece, history, mediterranean, plaka, roman, travel
Ciudad de México- Where nipples get tweaked (in the name of cancer fundraising)
You’re probably extremely confused by the title of this post. Don’t worry ~*~all will be revealed~*~ So get comfy, pour yourself a drink, hit that ketamine, and let mama Vel tell you a story.

When you hear Mexico City, what do you think of. History? Food? Architecture? Art? Well DING DING DING you are 4/4 my friend. This place is truly bananas. Not only is the city itself massive on a scale that’s hard to comprehend, but it is so dense with history and beauty that every block could have a blog post dedicated to it. Whether it’s the serene beauty of public plazas like Plaza Rio de Janeiro (complete with a replica of David with a fountain bidet), the party vibes on the boats in the canals of Xochimilco, or the fact that there is literally amazing food on every single mothereffin’ street corner in the whole city, CDMX truly has something for everyone (unless you’re one of the smooth brainers who thinks Mexico is only a war-torn hellhole or only want to visit the most vanilla of all inclusive resorts with names like Grand Oasis, Royal Fiesta, or Gonorrhea, then it’s probably not for you but I would venture out onto a limb and say that most things probably aren’t for you. That is unless it includes Andrew Tate, which, might I say, is quite possibly the fruitiest of fags I’ve ever seen. I mean how many shirtless, oiled up muscle photos loudly proclaiming how much you love men must one person post? But no homo, right? Anyways…)

Back in October I came here with some of my best girly friends to explore the city, see some incredible history and get the fuck out of the Vitamin-D vacuum that is Seattle between October and May. The trip started off on a high note with a cab driver who liiiiterally almost mowed down 4 pedestrians. I mean like, it was inches away. One of them even slammed his fist on the car and yelled at us. Our driver yelled back bc like bitch, only I can yell at me. Honestly, I was aroused. I got his number. We’re getting married, btw. Invite’s in the mail.

After exploring the neighborhood (including getting the best fresh juice at a number of sidewalk stands, highly recommend) we started exploring other areas of the city and going to some events. One of the highlights was going to a lucha libre fight. Since it was around the time of Día de Muertos the entire match was underworld themed, with guys dressed as couriers from the spirit realm snatching up the losers of each match to take them to the great beyond. It was DRAMA. It was DRAG. I honestly could not stop screaming it was so good. I’m a bitch who loves theatrics and doing the most and it gave me everything I could have hoped for. And the outfits? So, so good.

Another highlight was the Museo Nacional de Antropología, containing huge amounts of archaeological finds from Mexico’s numerous indigenous cultures. It’s honestly hard to even describe how amazing this place is. For starters, it’s HUGE. It’s extremely affordable (a day ticket literally cost me $4.75). It’s beautifully maintained. And the amount of artifacts present is just mind boggling. I spent 4 hours there and feel like I barely scratched the service. If you ever visit, be sure to pop your strongest Adderall and be ready to dedicate an entire day.

There are so many other highlights to the city:
- The ruins at Tlatelolco are a stark reminder of how much in this city was decimated by the Spanish in the 16th Century. And, perhaps more insidiously, how many of the buildings of Tenochtitlan were destroyed and then scavenged to build Spanish cathedrals and monuments.
- The canals of Xochimilco are an interesting juxtaposition. You have the bright, vibrantly painted boats with a strong party vibe (our guide was a VIBE and definitely got us wastey). Contrasting this are the almost spooky canals themselves, with large trees overhanging the water and parts of dolls strung throughout the trees. As a bonus, we did not get into a screaming match with each other and lose our lip gloss (this is definitely a reference to season 6 of the Real Housewives of Miami and their ICONIC trip to Mexico City- fuck Lisa Hochstein).
- Paseo de la Reforma is imposing, thrumming, and overstimulating. Being one of the main arteries of the city, there’s a concentration of incredible artwork (I highly recommend checking out the alebrijes along the stretch of Reforma from El Ángel de la Independencia to Estela de Luz), restaurants, street artists and vendors, and top notch people watching.
  - While perusing the artwork, this is where the aforementioned nipple tweaking happened. Now, let me preface by saying that I like to think I’m confident with my Spanish. I can definitely hold conversations, and understood the majority of what people were saying to me. That being said, no one could prepare me for meeting Abraham. He approached me, asking if I’d like to donate money to a cancer research fundraiser. Somehow, the conversation took a sharp left turn, and next thing I know he’s asking if I have a novio, touching my nipz and telling me he wants to date. Now, fluent or not, I have no idea how cancer research goes to dick thirsting THAT FAST. It was really something to behold. Maybe it was just run of the mill sexual harassment? Who knows. Anyways, I gave Abraham a fake number after telling him I had to leave multiple times, and the rest is history. Dating in the gay scene in 2024 is really something else.
I hope you’ve enjoyed my synopsis of a city that is so layered and complex that it really is impossible to do a synopsis. So instead I’ll tell you a riddle (winner gets to tweak my nips, unless your name is Abraham):

‘I am a type of cheese, but I am made backwards. What cheese am I?’

Ciudad de México, México- October 2024
January 23, 2025

history, mexico, mexico-city, north-america, travel