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Matt Peiken's evolving guide to Minnesota*
*Not responsible for any legal entanglements, mishaps (amusing, tragic or otherwise) or violent acts of God likely to result from adhering to the following recommendations or advice.

Introduction

I call this an "evolving" guide because, quite frankly, I don't know much about the state. For chrissake, I'm not a native. I mean, the nerve -- the unmitigated GALL -- of even asking ME to tell YOU about Minnesota. Can't you buy a freakin' map? Let me clue you in, pal: There are people who do this thing for a living. They're called "travel agents." But seeing as how you're already here, I might as well pass along some of the observations I've made about the sites, sounds and smells that make Minnesota THE tourist destination of North Dakotans.

Weather

Everyone makes a big deal about Minnesota's weather. Why shouldn't they -- it's our No.1 Canadian import. Well, let me flash you a bulletin: It's nice here. A regular paradise. Of course, unlike California, "sunny" doesn't necessarily mean "warm." On my first New Year's Eve, I looked out the window, saw nothing but blue sky and was fooled into wearing a light jacket. I stepped outside and was immediately slapped across the face with what felt like a bag of ice. It was only 5 degrees -- a 20-degree drop from what had been the low temp all winter. People tell me some of the coldest days all winter are of the blue-sky variety (it can get to 40-below or colder with the wind chill). I just haven't been able to remove myself from the "sun = warm" equation, and all but one of my winters here have been downright livable. A few more winters like 2000-01 will beat that right outta me.

For the worst of it, I've purchased long underwear stitched exclusively from salvaged Owens Pink Corning fiberglass. Sure, it's itchy and scratchy, and the asbestos fibers have welded themselves below my epidermus. But to hell with it. I'm warm! If you ever visit, I'll roust up a pair for you. For me, the snow is worse than the cold. Minnesotans are horrible drivers under normal conditions (see below for details), but add snow and you've got a slow-motion destruction derby.

Minnesota Nice

"Minnesota Nice" is a legendary stereotype here and, despite what many locals will say, there's truth to it. The premise is that Minnesotans are extremely nice, perhaps alarmingly so, on the surface. They'll smile to a stranger, make some perfunctory greeting, and you'll feel as if you walked into a Swedish fairy tale. Try to engage a Minnesotan in meaningful conversation and the responses can range anywhere from vicious frowning to uncontrollable crying. Minnesotans haven't embraced the concept of socialization.

I'll be frank: This is a very difficult state to move to, especially if you're coming from California or any other area where people generally don't mind newcomers. Here's the problem: Nobody moves to Minnesota without a very good reason (money), a mental disorder, a substance-abuse disorder or both. That means 75 percent of Minnesotans were born and raised here and will never leave. They make all the friends they'll ever need -- or, more to the point, ever want -- by the time they graduate college together. Family connections are tantamount for Minnesotans, particularly for women, who can't live (survive) more than 30 minutes from their mothers. Between family and old friends, there's simply no time to fit newcomers into their lives. Outsiders are left wandering the terrain like people from "Invasion of the Body Snatchers," hoping nobody exposes them as outsiders. As it is, the only real friends you'll probably make for years are other newcomers.

Celebrities

Minnesotans are fixated and fascinated with all things celebrity, particularly any celebrity with even the slightest of connections to Minnesota. People of any renown who visit are accorded a welcome fit for royalty. When ABC's "Good Morning America" broadcast live one day from Stillwater, the local print media (including my newspaper) was all over it -- front-page coverage, photos, quotes from Charlie Rose and people who talked with Charlie Rose. People from the show said it tactfully -- they'd never seen such a response from any community -- but the message was clear: Minnesotans, get a life!

Of course, we don't get celebrities of Charlie Rose's stature every day, so the press consumes itself between celebrity sightings by writing about each other. Print media treat broadcasters as celebrities -- every so often, the Pioneer Press or Star Tribune will run a feature on some local anchorperson, usually overcoming some sort of challenge that lots of people face and showing us what a great regular person that person is. Our alternative weekly (weakly) feasts on local reporters and columnists for fodder, as if anyone really cares what we think or have to say outside of our own copy.

It's all very insiderish, incestuous and insidious, ridiculous and self-absorbed.

The Minnesota Zoo

Among the state's most popular attractions, this 100-acre waste-of-time features a pack of rabid feral cats, three goats hiding in a cave and an exhibition of Holstein cows like you would not believe! Trust me on this one -- don't go there. It sucks. It's laid out like a maze, with scores of trails that lead to dead ends. Their vaunted "Discovery Bay" exhibition looks like it came fresh from a runner-up showing at an eighth-grade science show. Don't believe me? Just ask the sharks. Oh, excuse me, you can't -- they're all dead. Seriously, every shark brought into this zoo comes down with a mysterious case of fatality. One shark even died on the way to the zoo. Do yourself a favor, especially if you're a shark, and STAY AWAY.

Mall of America

Sad to say, this is Minnesota's top tourist attraction. Conveniently located within eyesight of the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport, people regularly fly in from hundreds of miles away, shuttle to the megamall, shop a bit, then fly home without ever stepping foot outside. Then again, with the zoo nearby, what are they missing?

Fine Dining

Before I let my cynicsm run away with me, I'll point you to the absolute best Chinese restaurant I've ever been to, and that includes San Francisco. It's called Shuang Cheng, and their seafood is TO DIE FOR. The crab with black bean sauce (my fave) just melts off the shell. Their whole seafood menu is fresh, awesome and amazingly inexpensive. The cuisine? There is none. But if you're here to eat instead of pretend you're in Chinatown, this is the place. It's in the "Dinkytown" district near the University of Minnesota. Great breakfast grub can be found at the Highland Grill in St. Paul. Go for the "Jack cakes" -- blue-corn pancakes topped with blueberries, granola, bananas and honey.

Having said that, let me say a little something about Minnesota cuisine: Chefs here know the steak is ready to serve when it easily peels off the soles of their feet. Seriously, even the most upscale restaurants here dish up food that pales to California fare. Everything's pretty bland and, generally, overpriced. There are a few hidden gems around here, but reservations are extremely difficult to come by. Why? Because these places are, in actuality, other people's homes. But if you like steak, there's no end to the establishments waiting to serve you. At last count, there were 47 restaurants in the Twin Cities area, alone, with the word "steak" in the title, including Nolan and Ryan's Steak and Funeral Parlor, A Steak Through My Heart and, the current trendy spot, I Can't Believe It's Not Steak.

Driving

Minnesotans, hands down, are the worst drivers in the country. They don't know or understand the meaning of the "fast lane," don't know how to merge (or allow people to merge) onto highways and they're masters of the indiscriminate lane change.

Let's talk about lane changes. Minnesotans don't change lanes because they must -- to let others pass, for example, or to exit a freeway. Minnesotans change lanes simply because they feel like it. They can be tootling along nice and sweet in lane No. 2 and, without signaling, checking a mirror or looking over a shoulder, decide they now want to be in lane No. 3. The only lane Minnesotans ever really settle into is lane No. 1 -- at a cozy 50 miles an hour. You can throw everything in your arsenal at them -- flashing the brights, nudging the bumper, flipping the finger -- and they won't budge. Minnesota is the only state where they set minimum speed laws out of necessity (not that they're ever enforced).