As if you didn't know that already.
I just finished my shift volunteering for the KCRW membership drive and I became an angel donor. In addition I helped raise over $1300. to keep the programming I love alive and well. Your turn.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Road Trip - California's Gold
After three years of financial pummeling and fresh off the heels of our remodel, we were cash strapped so a big vacation was out of the question in 2011. Good thing I love to camp. It's a ton of work but ultimately worth the struggle when you cook by firelight and sleep under the stars. September is the best time to travel - I would argue just about anywhere in the world since the weather is generally warm and crowds are gone. After talking with my sister-in-law in Bend, Oregon and learning that they planned to spend the labor day weekend up at Lake Shasta I decided that would be the jumping off point for our holiday. When you're camping for a week you need a lot of gear. We decided to rent a SUV so we could have reliable a/c and iPod plug in to make our trip a little more enjoyable than that my old Jeep could promise. Other than 3 days in Shasta we had no particular plan. Much of the state is scorching hot but the coast can get downright cold so we needed to be prepared for anything.
When we left on Thursday afternoon it was warm but not uncomfortable. By the time we got over the grapevine - a stretch to the south of Bakersfield - it was a wall of heat. I turned on the a/c. Nothing. I turned up the a/c. Nothing. OMG! It was a late summer heat wave and we had no a/c. I called the rental agency and they said we should swap the car out at the nearest airport, which by then was Fresno and another 2 hours away in the blistering heat, making sure they could accommodate our need of a large SUV. One speeding ticket later on some back farm road and they were changing our contract at the rental place only to find out the car they promised had been sold and unavailable for rental. They stuffed us into a much smaller crossover SUV but we had functional and cold a/c. This inconvenient set back put us way behind schedule and we were forced to bed down for the night in the Sacramento area.
It was dark when we pulled off the highway in search of a quaint, affordable spot to sleep. We pulled into the lane way of one place only to be chased off by some nefarious looking fellows. In the next stop Damon met a woman in the lobby who informed him that this part of town, South Sac, was known as hooker row. Onward we go. As luck would have it our next exit in Old Sac was the right one - perfect location, clean room, good value. We crashed after an exhausting day excited to do a little exploring the next day.
Sacramento is the California State Capitol and until this trip I'd only ever driven through on the way to somewhere else so in the few hours we had I wanted to maximize our conquests. Tours of the Capitol are conducted every day of the year. It's brief and informative including a stint in a legislative session for a few minutes. The vicinity surrounding the building is beautiful as well and hosts many shops and restaurants as well as gardens, the Governor's mansion, cathedrals and other government buildings. We spent some time in the Federal Courthouse which has a gorgeous granite "chair" installation in the lobby inscribed with proverbs and anecdotes from various famous and infamous people. Amazing city/river views can be seen from the top floor.
Just a short walk under the railroad tracks toward the river and you're back in time about a century landing in the Old West. Labor Day Weekend is "Gold Rush Days" in Old Sac and tons of dirt is trucked in to line the old streets as do horses, wagons and civil war soldiers. Old Sac was proclaimed a historic site and many of the buildings in the district are original to the gold rush era. The city is set at the convergence of the Sacramento and American rivers and was subjected to routine flooding. In the mid-1800's the city was reconstructed at a higher elevation and today part of the old city can still be seen underground. Even the Capitol was moved to higher ground from its original location. We meandered along the riverwalk awestruck by the vertical lift "Tower Bridge" and up and down the old streets until our whistles needed whetted before heading back on the road. Ten 22 was just the kind of saloon we needed with another 5 hours ahead of us to Lake Shasta at the tippy tippy top of California.
This stretch of CA is pretty boring. It's arid, fairly flat, often windy and putrid given the copious agricultural plots. We pulled up to our campground at Shasta around 6pm and met Daren and the kids at the dock where they were waiting with the boat. It was still about 90 degrees so being on the water was perfectly refreshing. After a little BBQ, I hung my hammock up between two trees and hopped up for beddy-bye under the stars. If the train passing through all night hadn't awoken me I may have been able to bear the cold but it was not to be. Into the tent I went, from the cocoon of my hammock to the cocoon of my down comforter and featherbed. We spent the weekend boatin
g and skiing celebrating the summer.
We set off on Monday morning not having any idea which direction we'd head or where we'd wind up. It was a beautiful lush drive through the mountains as we meandered along the Trinity River which was still flowing wildly from the extraordinary snow fall earlier in the year. And it was hot, dang hot. We found a perfect spot to pull off the highway and take a dip. It was a small but steep hike down the canyon side to the river's edge. I could see how the current was swirling in the eddies at the bend in the river but given the heat it was so inviting. I'm not a strong swimmer so after a moment's contemplation I dove in. I literally lost my breath it was so frigid. The water was moving very fast but I kept close to the edge. Damon, a close relative to the fish, splashed around and played for a long while as I sat on the rocks watching gigantic Steelhead trout and salmon, practically the size of small seals, jump and play right alongside him. It was breathtaking all around.
As adventuresome as traveling without a plan is it can also be a bit harrowing when
you don't know the lay of the land. We emerged from the mountains with just enough time for a brief visit in Eureka, the largest of Northern California's coastal towns. We went from 100 degree temps inland to needing our winter coats at the beach. This variance in temperature creates the visibility of pea soup so we didn't get to see much of the rugged coastline. The town sits on the bay and has a devout Victorian architectural influence. I'm pretty sure the prudish era's influence ends there given Humboldt's reputation as Mary Jane's backyard. It is definitely hippy trippy up there and I loved it. Fuel prices were almost $5/gallon and the coffee was about as strong as fuel. We drove awestruck through the Avenue of the Giants (redwood trees) that make up the bulk of the landscape. The late summer light was waning and we still had to set up camp and cook. We found a beautiful remote spot in the Humboldt Redwoods State Park. We were one of nine occupied camp sites in a park teeming with vacationers only the night before. And lucky to get in too - they were closing for t
he season the next day because of state budgetary constraints. The park is in the middle of a forest so dense with redwoods that the sun barely gets through. It's laced with hiking trails of every level of difficulty and terrific amenities including super hot showers. Firewood is for sale on site.
The Shoreline Highway, also known as Hwy 1, is well-traveled by cyclists commanding the 2000 ish mile ride from BC to Baja. We shared this glorious day with them and the cows. And the, double-take, reindeer. A poet I am not but I enjoyed the juxtaposition so here's my rhyme.
By the side of the road Dasher and Dancer roam
Their sleigh and driver nowhere in sight
Under sunny skies and over 5000 miles from home
Majestic beauty before us to our utter surprise and sheer delight
Quaint town after town line the jagged coast and we stopped in just about every one of them. We talked with shopkeepers, travelers and cyclists. At one turn, as our warmth and visibility went from 9 to 2 respectively as we neared the coast, we noticed a few guys in wet suits and what appeared to be weight belts clawing their way up the steep cliff lugging bags behind them. They were reticent to talk to us thinking perhaps we were fish and game wardens since they'd been abalone diving. It is a highly regulated practice and hefty fines are doled out if you breach. They had their "license" (effectively a punch card with hanging chads) and some decent catch. They explained the laws regarding size and quantity limits but also that you can only get what you can get while snorkeling with a weight belt and that you have to use a certain tool and method to extract it from it's habitat. We also learned about preparing them for eating as well which sounds about as laborious as collecting them to begin with. Fascinating. So much so that when we stopped for a picnic lunch at the shore, we collected handfuls of the gorgeous iridescent abalone shells washed up on the beach. We've made jewelry from some pieces.
There's so much to do on the Northern coast - kayaking and whale watching among the most popular activities. We took it a little easier this go around opting instead to visit lighthouses and watch the oodles of sea lions lazily occupying the rocky surf. Each night we had to make sure to secure our accomm
odations before dark - although we witnessed many who didn't and had to set up in the pitch black. It was positively freezing after the fire died down and the only respite was to go to bed. Your instincts tell you to layer up to keep warm but in reality you're warmer if you strip down and snuggle up naked given our bodies are a toasty 98.6 degrees. Paradoxically, it's a rather strange and vulnerable feeling to be in nature's territory in such a "natural" way.
One day we only clocked 30 miles on the odometer. We had a wedding to attend on the weekend so we couldn't lollygag the way we might otherwise have. I was hoping to make it to Yosemite since Ive never been in the park before but we were still on the other side of the state. We'd been places and seen things we hadn't seen before and were fully relaxed - just as a vacation should be. As we pushed further down the coast night was falling as we came into Sonoma county so we decided to set up camp on the Bodega sand dunes. This was quite a different experience from the other nights in forests among the shelter of trees. Late in the day the fog rolls in thick and misty leaving the soft grainy sand a wet mess. Following a rigorous hike to the beach through this quick sand and dodging deer poop we were enjoying a big, hot blazing fire. As we sat there talking we see a shadowy figure approaching our camp. All evening long we'd spotted bright curious eyes staring at us through the ambers but they were innocuous (deer are abundant throughout the area). This creature was not you're usual expectant masked beggar. No, this was the kind that could put the kibosh on your holiday right quick. Looking for a snack, a skunk was traipsing right through our camp not 2 feet from where we sat. Any startling
maneuvers and we most assuredly could have been the recipients of that offensive and most potent of defense odors. Our heartbeats no sooner returned to normal when two more came snooping around. Time for bed.
At sunrise I was still holding out hope for a trek across the state to Yosemite but Damon learned we were just an hour from San Fransisco so it will have to wait. All the ensuing events that followed were kismet and we spent the last night of our holiday in SF (see another post) capping off an incredible week of adventure.
When we left on Thursday afternoon it was warm but not uncomfortable. By the time we got over the grapevine - a stretch to the south of Bakersfield - it was a wall of heat. I turned on the a/c. Nothing. I turned up the a/c. Nothing. OMG! It was a late summer heat wave and we had no a/c. I called the rental agency and they said we should swap the car out at the nearest airport, which by then was Fresno and another 2 hours away in the blistering heat, making sure they could accommodate our need of a large SUV. One speeding ticket later on some back farm road and they were changing our contract at the rental place only to find out the car they promised had been sold and unavailable for rental. They stuffed us into a much smaller crossover SUV but we had functional and cold a/c. This inconvenient set back put us way behind schedule and we were forced to bed down for the night in the Sacramento area.
It was dark when we pulled off the highway in search of a quaint, affordable spot to sleep. We pulled into the lane way of one place only to be chased off by some nefarious looking fellows. In the next stop Damon met a woman in the lobby who informed him that this part of town, South Sac, was known as hooker row. Onward we go. As luck would have it our next exit in Old Sac was the right one - perfect location, clean room, good value. We crashed after an exhausting day excited to do a little exploring the next day.
Sacramento is the California State Capitol and until this trip I'd only ever driven through on the way to somewhere else so in the few hours we had I wanted to maximize our conquests. Tours of the Capitol are conducted every day of the year. It's brief and informative including a stint in a legislative session for a few minutes. The vicinity surrounding the building is beautiful as well and hosts many shops and restaurants as well as gardens, the Governor's mansion, cathedrals and other government buildings. We spent some time in the Federal Courthouse which has a gorgeous granite "chair" installation in the lobby inscribed with proverbs and anecdotes from various famous and infamous people. Amazing city/river views can be seen from the top floor.
Just a short walk under the railroad tracks toward the river and you're back in time about a century landing in the Old West. Labor Day Weekend is "Gold Rush Days" in Old Sac and tons of dirt is trucked in to line the old streets as do horses, wagons and civil war soldiers. Old Sac was proclaimed a historic site and many of the buildings in the district are original to the gold rush era. The city is set at the convergence of the Sacramento and American rivers and was subjected to routine flooding. In the mid-1800's the city was reconstructed at a higher elevation and today part of the old city can still be seen underground. Even the Capitol was moved to higher ground from its original location. We meandered along the riverwalk awestruck by the vertical lift "Tower Bridge" and up and down the old streets until our whistles needed whetted before heading back on the road. Ten 22 was just the kind of saloon we needed with another 5 hours ahead of us to Lake Shasta at the tippy tippy top of California.
This stretch of CA is pretty boring. It's arid, fairly flat, often windy and putrid given the copious agricultural plots. We pulled up to our campground at Shasta around 6pm and met Daren and the kids at the dock where they were waiting with the boat. It was still about 90 degrees so being on the water was perfectly refreshing. After a little BBQ, I hung my hammock up between two trees and hopped up for beddy-bye under the stars. If the train passing through all night hadn't awoken me I may have been able to bear the cold but it was not to be. Into the tent I went, from the cocoon of my hammock to the cocoon of my down comforter and featherbed. We spent the weekend boatin
g and skiing celebrating the summer.We set off on Monday morning not having any idea which direction we'd head or where we'd wind up. It was a beautiful lush drive through the mountains as we meandered along the Trinity River which was still flowing wildly from the extraordinary snow fall earlier in the year. And it was hot, dang hot. We found a perfect spot to pull off the highway and take a dip. It was a small but steep hike down the canyon side to the river's edge. I could see how the current was swirling in the eddies at the bend in the river but given the heat it was so inviting. I'm not a strong swimmer so after a moment's contemplation I dove in. I literally lost my breath it was so frigid. The water was moving very fast but I kept close to the edge. Damon, a close relative to the fish, splashed around and played for a long while as I sat on the rocks watching gigantic Steelhead trout and salmon, practically the size of small seals, jump and play right alongside him. It was breathtaking all around.
As adventuresome as traveling without a plan is it can also be a bit harrowing when
you don't know the lay of the land. We emerged from the mountains with just enough time for a brief visit in Eureka, the largest of Northern California's coastal towns. We went from 100 degree temps inland to needing our winter coats at the beach. This variance in temperature creates the visibility of pea soup so we didn't get to see much of the rugged coastline. The town sits on the bay and has a devout Victorian architectural influence. I'm pretty sure the prudish era's influence ends there given Humboldt's reputation as Mary Jane's backyard. It is definitely hippy trippy up there and I loved it. Fuel prices were almost $5/gallon and the coffee was about as strong as fuel. We drove awestruck through the Avenue of the Giants (redwood trees) that make up the bulk of the landscape. The late summer light was waning and we still had to set up camp and cook. We found a beautiful remote spot in the Humboldt Redwoods State Park. We were one of nine occupied camp sites in a park teeming with vacationers only the night before. And lucky to get in too - they were closing for t
he season the next day because of state budgetary constraints. The park is in the middle of a forest so dense with redwoods that the sun barely gets through. It's laced with hiking trails of every level of difficulty and terrific amenities including super hot showers. Firewood is for sale on site.The Shoreline Highway, also known as Hwy 1, is well-traveled by cyclists commanding the 2000 ish mile ride from BC to Baja. We shared this glorious day with them and the cows. And the, double-take, reindeer. A poet I am not but I enjoyed the juxtaposition so here's my rhyme.
By the side of the road Dasher and Dancer roam
Their sleigh and driver nowhere in sight
Under sunny skies and over 5000 miles from home
Majestic beauty before us to our utter surprise and sheer delight
Quaint town after town line the jagged coast and we stopped in just about every one of them. We talked with shopkeepers, travelers and cyclists. At one turn, as our warmth and visibility went from 9 to 2 respectively as we neared the coast, we noticed a few guys in wet suits and what appeared to be weight belts clawing their way up the steep cliff lugging bags behind them. They were reticent to talk to us thinking perhaps we were fish and game wardens since they'd been abalone diving. It is a highly regulated practice and hefty fines are doled out if you breach. They had their "license" (effectively a punch card with hanging chads) and some decent catch. They explained the laws regarding size and quantity limits but also that you can only get what you can get while snorkeling with a weight belt and that you have to use a certain tool and method to extract it from it's habitat. We also learned about preparing them for eating as well which sounds about as laborious as collecting them to begin with. Fascinating. So much so that when we stopped for a picnic lunch at the shore, we collected handfuls of the gorgeous iridescent abalone shells washed up on the beach. We've made jewelry from some pieces.
There's so much to do on the Northern coast - kayaking and whale watching among the most popular activities. We took it a little easier this go around opting instead to visit lighthouses and watch the oodles of sea lions lazily occupying the rocky surf. Each night we had to make sure to secure our accomm
odations before dark - although we witnessed many who didn't and had to set up in the pitch black. It was positively freezing after the fire died down and the only respite was to go to bed. Your instincts tell you to layer up to keep warm but in reality you're warmer if you strip down and snuggle up naked given our bodies are a toasty 98.6 degrees. Paradoxically, it's a rather strange and vulnerable feeling to be in nature's territory in such a "natural" way.One day we only clocked 30 miles on the odometer. We had a wedding to attend on the weekend so we couldn't lollygag the way we might otherwise have. I was hoping to make it to Yosemite since Ive never been in the park before but we were still on the other side of the state. We'd been places and seen things we hadn't seen before and were fully relaxed - just as a vacation should be. As we pushed further down the coast night was falling as we came into Sonoma county so we decided to set up camp on the Bodega sand dunes. This was quite a different experience from the other nights in forests among the shelter of trees. Late in the day the fog rolls in thick and misty leaving the soft grainy sand a wet mess. Following a rigorous hike to the beach through this quick sand and dodging deer poop we were enjoying a big, hot blazing fire. As we sat there talking we see a shadowy figure approaching our camp. All evening long we'd spotted bright curious eyes staring at us through the ambers but they were innocuous (deer are abundant throughout the area). This creature was not you're usual expectant masked beggar. No, this was the kind that could put the kibosh on your holiday right quick. Looking for a snack, a skunk was traipsing right through our camp not 2 feet from where we sat. Any startling
maneuvers and we most assuredly could have been the recipients of that offensive and most potent of defense odors. Our heartbeats no sooner returned to normal when two more came snooping around. Time for bed.At sunrise I was still holding out hope for a trek across the state to Yosemite but Damon learned we were just an hour from San Fransisco so it will have to wait. All the ensuing events that followed were kismet and we spent the last night of our holiday in SF (see another post) capping off an incredible week of adventure.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Join the Mile-High Club
Beginning next year Dutch Airline KLM is introducing a program called Meet 'n Seat which will allow travelers to use social media to check in and choose their seat alongside other passengers based on technology profiles. We've all been on long flights where the person next to you just won't shut up about their grandchildren or some other stupid thing you have no interest in. I myself have drooled on a man I met in Amsterdam and went home with. Rephrase - We traveled stateside on the same plane and I fell asleep on his shoulder only to wake up drooling on him.
Imagine if you could hand select the person you sit with for endless hours of confinement and you actually have something in common. Maybe it's a business connection, maybe a love connection or maybe just interesting conversation to pass the time. Recently on my flight to San Fransisco I sat between two young people and had fun and informative chats with each of them. This union was serendipitous but in the future you won't have to rely on chance.
Below is a synopsis of the offering. Be sure to watch the accompanying video.
http://www.stuff.co.nz/travel/international/6168776/Meet-n-seat-mile-high-matchmaking
Imagine if you could hand select the person you sit with for endless hours of confinement and you actually have something in common. Maybe it's a business connection, maybe a love connection or maybe just interesting conversation to pass the time. Recently on my flight to San Fransisco I sat between two young people and had fun and informative chats with each of them. This union was serendipitous but in the future you won't have to rely on chance.
Below is a synopsis of the offering. Be sure to watch the accompanying video.
http://www.stuff.co.nz/travel/international/6168776/Meet-n-seat-mile-high-matchmaking
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Home Away From Home
I've written about San Fransisco before, not only because it is a place I frequent but because there's so much to write about. In this recount I'm combining the last few visits since I've been remiss. Preliminarily, I want to mention how ecstatic I am that Virgin America is in my neighborhood. This is bar none the best commercial airliner in this galaxy. I first flew them years ago to the UK and wished I made more transatlantic flights just for the superior service. The mood lighting on these sexy planes makes you want to lose your "virginity" to the mile high club.
A stunning masterpiece in its own right, the DeYoung museum curated a collection of masterpieces from Le Musee D'Orsay in Paris, France earlier this year. I had to see it knowing before I go back to France I want to visit Argentina, China, India, Russia, and all the other "ias" and "inas". Post-impressionists en mass and their exorbitant bodies of work were stuffed into the basement crowded with hoards of admirers. The only respite is a pub crawl through North Beach.
The 1st place I ever had my signature sidecar cocktail was at Rose Pistola. And it's still the best, if only for the memorabilia. Too much cheer later and we exit through the back door only to see Tony Nik's right across the street. Comfy, casual, cool. So much so that it garners a repeat the next night with an introduction to the "dark and stormy". But one of our favorite watering holes is the Cafe Meuse run by our friend Eric Meuse. It's a quaint spot on the corner of Hyde and Pacific, on the cable car line, boasting a palatable wine menu, small plates and homemade desserts. The last time we were in town Eric was giving a Chilean wine tasting and many of Damon's old friends turned out to pay a visit. Our friend joshes that he's a rock star on that corner.
Man cannot live on liquor alone so it's lucky that SF is also a culinary mecca. The lobster bisque at Hyde St. Seafood and Raw Bar will leave your head spinning. Their specialty is Dungeness crab and other fresh catch prepared en papillote (cooked in parchment paper). The garlic blossom at Liverpool Lil's in the Marina will render you unapproachable for a week and if you take in the French Onion soup loaded with cheese so will be the toilet bowl. The cheese pizza at North Beach Pizza, sauce and crust perfectly complimentary, soaks up any excess alcohol you may have imbibed. As SF is walkable there are restaurants on every block, many of them exceptional. Bix is one such place downtown in the Financial District. Located in an alley illuminated by only a small sign indicating it's exclusivity, Bix takes you back to another era. Posh art deco decor, decadent continental menu and nightly jazz makes this modern day supper club such a hot spot that reservations well in advance are compulsory.
Years ago some friends introduced us to a Vietnamese restaurant called the Slanted Door which was somewhere out near the Castro. This may have been my first experience with Vietnamese food and it's now one of my favorite genres. They have since moved to the Ferry Building down on the Embarcadero, which has become a popular spot for specialty shops and restaurants. I had never been before so I walked down from Union Square while my friend was working planning on getting some pho. It was a gorgeous afternoon on the bay - warm and only slightly breezy. Boats and ships puttered in the harbor, farmer's were out for market and the place was bustling. With so many choices, Ferry Plaza Wine Merchant being one of them, I opted instead for a glass of California Pinot accompanied by a platter of Cow Girl Creamery cheese and epi baguette from Acme Bread. Oh so delish.
The Occupy San Fransisco encampment was right across the street so I felt obligated to at least walk through it. My first impression was that that these people are NOT the 99%. Not even close. These dirty, dread locked, pot smoking hippie types represent only a small opportunistic fraction of the percentile touting the Fuck Wall Street agenda And Their Washington Cronies too. Admittedly it was the tail end of the national movement but by then the message was diluted (and deluded).
My latest infatuation in San Fransisco is the Kabuki Springs bath house in Japantown, near Pacific Heights. Step inside and be transported. You can feel your heart rate slow and worldly concerns melt away. Strip down - this is not an experience for the modest - and enter the communal relaxation room of slate covered floors, warm teak ceilings, and diffused lighting. Essential aromas envelop and caress you as do the gentle ambient sounds of the ancient orient. Every appointment is perfectly placed and well designed. It's modern, classy and spic 'n span - not dodgy like some other baths. Pots of hot peppermint tea and cool water surrounded by bowls of ice, lemon, cucumber and mint can be spotted throughout the room. An icy dunking pool is strategically placed amid chaise lounge chairs, and jacuzzi at center with sauna and steam rooms on the perimeter of one end, bathing stations and showers on the other completes the space. Zen is a good word in sum.
My friend lives adjacent to Union Square above Cafe Royale and we endearingly refer to it as her living room. Despite the bartender's "I'm too sexy for my shirt" flippant attitude this is a great place to linger over a pint from a decent selection of local micro-brews. Each month various Bay area performing artists entertain. From poetry readings to Jazz quartets there's performance art practically every night of the week behind a gallery wall featuring local artists' works. No cover.
Journaling over a stiff and frothy cappuccino at Cafe Trieste rounds out a nice morning. It's a high traffic coffee house in North Beach and table sharing is common which makes it really convenient for meeting people and finding out what their weekend was like. I love this kind of vibe because you share ideas, discover things you didn't know and voila your next trip is already planned!
A stunning masterpiece in its own right, the DeYoung museum curated a collection of masterpieces from Le Musee D'Orsay in Paris, France earlier this year. I had to see it knowing before I go back to France I want to visit Argentina, China, India, Russia, and all the other "ias" and "inas". Post-impressionists en mass and their exorbitant bodies of work were stuffed into the basement crowded with hoards of admirers. The only respite is a pub crawl through North Beach.
The 1st place I ever had my signature sidecar cocktail was at Rose Pistola. And it's still the best, if only for the memorabilia. Too much cheer later and we exit through the back door only to see Tony Nik's right across the street. Comfy, casual, cool. So much so that it garners a repeat the next night with an introduction to the "dark and stormy". But one of our favorite watering holes is the Cafe Meuse run by our friend Eric Meuse. It's a quaint spot on the corner of Hyde and Pacific, on the cable car line, boasting a palatable wine menu, small plates and homemade desserts. The last time we were in town Eric was giving a Chilean wine tasting and many of Damon's old friends turned out to pay a visit. Our friend joshes that he's a rock star on that corner.
Man cannot live on liquor alone so it's lucky that SF is also a culinary mecca. The lobster bisque at Hyde St. Seafood and Raw Bar will leave your head spinning. Their specialty is Dungeness crab and other fresh catch prepared en papillote (cooked in parchment paper). The garlic blossom at Liverpool Lil's in the Marina will render you unapproachable for a week and if you take in the French Onion soup loaded with cheese so will be the toilet bowl. The cheese pizza at North Beach Pizza, sauce and crust perfectly complimentary, soaks up any excess alcohol you may have imbibed. As SF is walkable there are restaurants on every block, many of them exceptional. Bix is one such place downtown in the Financial District. Located in an alley illuminated by only a small sign indicating it's exclusivity, Bix takes you back to another era. Posh art deco decor, decadent continental menu and nightly jazz makes this modern day supper club such a hot spot that reservations well in advance are compulsory.
Years ago some friends introduced us to a Vietnamese restaurant called the Slanted Door which was somewhere out near the Castro. This may have been my first experience with Vietnamese food and it's now one of my favorite genres. They have since moved to the Ferry Building down on the Embarcadero, which has become a popular spot for specialty shops and restaurants. I had never been before so I walked down from Union Square while my friend was working planning on getting some pho. It was a gorgeous afternoon on the bay - warm and only slightly breezy. Boats and ships puttered in the harbor, farmer's were out for market and the place was bustling. With so many choices, Ferry Plaza Wine Merchant being one of them, I opted instead for a glass of California Pinot accompanied by a platter of Cow Girl Creamery cheese and epi baguette from Acme Bread. Oh so delish.
The Occupy San Fransisco encampment was right across the street so I felt obligated to at least walk through it. My first impression was that that these people are NOT the 99%. Not even close. These dirty, dread locked, pot smoking hippie types represent only a small opportunistic fraction of the percentile touting the Fuck Wall Street agenda And Their Washington Cronies too. Admittedly it was the tail end of the national movement but by then the message was diluted (and deluded).
My latest infatuation in San Fransisco is the Kabuki Springs bath house in Japantown, near Pacific Heights. Step inside and be transported. You can feel your heart rate slow and worldly concerns melt away. Strip down - this is not an experience for the modest - and enter the communal relaxation room of slate covered floors, warm teak ceilings, and diffused lighting. Essential aromas envelop and caress you as do the gentle ambient sounds of the ancient orient. Every appointment is perfectly placed and well designed. It's modern, classy and spic 'n span - not dodgy like some other baths. Pots of hot peppermint tea and cool water surrounded by bowls of ice, lemon, cucumber and mint can be spotted throughout the room. An icy dunking pool is strategically placed amid chaise lounge chairs, and jacuzzi at center with sauna and steam rooms on the perimeter of one end, bathing stations and showers on the other completes the space. Zen is a good word in sum.
My friend lives adjacent to Union Square above Cafe Royale and we endearingly refer to it as her living room. Despite the bartender's "I'm too sexy for my shirt" flippant attitude this is a great place to linger over a pint from a decent selection of local micro-brews. Each month various Bay area performing artists entertain. From poetry readings to Jazz quartets there's performance art practically every night of the week behind a gallery wall featuring local artists' works. No cover.
Journaling over a stiff and frothy cappuccino at Cafe Trieste rounds out a nice morning. It's a high traffic coffee house in North Beach and table sharing is common which makes it really convenient for meeting people and finding out what their weekend was like. I love this kind of vibe because you share ideas, discover things you didn't know and voila your next trip is already planned!
Monday, November 28, 2011
Th "G" Spot
Somehow I got wind that it was going to be a glorious hot weekend out in the desert so I got the idea to spend Thanksgiving weekend in Palm Springs. Of course we do just about everything willy nilly so I started calling around on Tuesday for rooms on Thursday through Sunday. Unexpectedly, everything even remotely close to town for a reasonable rate was booked. I guess people would rather forgo the family drama and give thanks in a more unconventional way. I gave up after calling every boutique hotel in town. On Friday afternoon I was depressed and not looking forward to a slew of chores staring me down at home so we packed our bathing suits and took off, come what may. I figured it'd be a nice road trip even if we had to turn around and come home. Lo and behold, things have changed and there's room at the inn. I'm starting to feel like Jesus, or at least lucky.
The desert is so alluring to me with its dramatic landscape and starry skies I forget that unless you have your own party (which is difficult to rally when you do everything spontaneously) it's dead boring. Palm Springs is literally the G spot - geriatrics and gays galore. Forget impromptu pool side parties. So you end up frying yourself to a crisp in the sun and then going to bed when the sun goes down. Well almost. There are fantastic hiking trails, biking paths and plenty of shopping. It's the mid-century modern furniture and design mecca. We thoroughly enjoyed the restaurants: amazing wood-fired artisan pizzas at Matchbox, grass-fed Venison and farmer's market menu at Zin, and cool cocktails and affordable bites at Lulu. I can effuse with certainty that THE BEST COCKTAIL in recent history is the zintini, made with vodka, cucumber and pineapple juices, topped with mint sprigs and a twist. Yum!
Fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies and a warm (half-baked!) friendly staff define The Chase as a low-key, unpretentious alternative to some of the other hotels in the desirable Tennis Club neighborhood - eh hum, The Viceroy. The location is unbeatable if you want to walk downtown and the mountain vistas are incredible shielding the beautiful pool from typical desert winds, although in winter the sun disappears behind them around 3:30 pm.
While not the raucous destination as some other desert towns there's something rejuvenating about this melanoma oasis what with the blistering sun and cool cocktails that always hits the spot. ;)
The desert is so alluring to me with its dramatic landscape and starry skies I forget that unless you have your own party (which is difficult to rally when you do everything spontaneously) it's dead boring. Palm Springs is literally the G spot - geriatrics and gays galore. Forget impromptu pool side parties. So you end up frying yourself to a crisp in the sun and then going to bed when the sun goes down. Well almost. There are fantastic hiking trails, biking paths and plenty of shopping. It's the mid-century modern furniture and design mecca. We thoroughly enjoyed the restaurants: amazing wood-fired artisan pizzas at Matchbox, grass-fed Venison and farmer's market menu at Zin, and cool cocktails and affordable bites at Lulu. I can effuse with certainty that THE BEST COCKTAIL in recent history is the zintini, made with vodka, cucumber and pineapple juices, topped with mint sprigs and a twist. Yum!
Fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies and a warm (half-baked!) friendly staff define The Chase as a low-key, unpretentious alternative to some of the other hotels in the desirable Tennis Club neighborhood - eh hum, The Viceroy. The location is unbeatable if you want to walk downtown and the mountain vistas are incredible shielding the beautiful pool from typical desert winds, although in winter the sun disappears behind them around 3:30 pm.
While not the raucous destination as some other desert towns there's something rejuvenating about this melanoma oasis what with the blistering sun and cool cocktails that always hits the spot. ;)
Monday, October 3, 2011
Firsts
I've done and seen a lot of things bu not everything. And this weekend I witnessed a couple of fascinating things I'd never seen before.
First first:
I saw the glow of plankton as the waves curled over the shoreline just after sunset. It looks like there's hundreds of blue neon lights under the ocean. It is a phenomonal chemical reaction taking place in the plankton called bioluminescence and it is a sight to behold.
Second first:
I saw pigeons humping. Like copulation in much of the animal kingdom it was a violent act that, although obscured by a bush, drew our attention because of the furious flapping and flattering of wings accompanied by screeching.
First first:
I saw the glow of plankton as the waves curled over the shoreline just after sunset. It looks like there's hundreds of blue neon lights under the ocean. It is a phenomonal chemical reaction taking place in the plankton called bioluminescence and it is a sight to behold.
Second first:
I saw pigeons humping. Like copulation in much of the animal kingdom it was a violent act that, although obscured by a bush, drew our attention because of the furious flapping and flattering of wings accompanied by screeching.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Dog Days of Summer
The remaining days of summer in LA, at least on the westside, are glorious with warm, breezy, cloudless skies. It's lovely to just meander our coastal towns and explore some of the unique and treasured offerings. The Venice canals, once reviled, have been cleaned and preserved by insistent neighbors paying a ghastly penny to live on them. I think the canals are part of the Ballona Wetlands conservancy and home to a multitude of birds such as geese, egrets and herons. Other wildlife spe
cies are attracted too like butterflies, lizards, and small fish as a result of the abundant food supply, no doubt. The dirt pedestrian path is maybe a couple of miles round trip from the jetty in Marina del Rey where you can gaze upon million dollar yachts, chartered fishing boats and small sailboat rentals alike cruising out to the open sea. Likewise, you'll pass multimillion dollar mansions and beachy cottages along the edges of a marshy estuary. The history of the canals is sordid beginning with a dream of one man to emulate the legendary Italian canals in this similarly Mediterranean climate but then as funding became scarce and the Beatniks and hippies became enamored with the area it just became overrun with algae and derelicts until the gentrification of the 1990's. Now i
t truly is one of the hidden LA treasures unifying birders, sun-worshipers and real estate developers. It's just far enough off the beaten track that it's mostly locals and their leashed friends which makes it a really nice experience, presuming you scored parking - not an easy task near the shore in summer. We even snooped around a 6 level house being built that looked like it had an elevator shaft going through the middle of it and then got in the dirt to rub the belly's of a couple of wanton basset hound pups. It's a lovely way to get a little exercise, a little vitamin D and an education in what lurks in your own back yard.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
ATT SUCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!
With great regret my ISP and wireless phone services are both with ATT. I have been a customer for roughly 20 years in one capacity or another. Serious consideration as to my loyalty has come into question as I'm continuously sucked into their vortex of horrific service. I've had spotty internet service for the last 3 weeks and have called as many times to get the issue resolved. I am currently on hold now for 42 minutes and 49 seconds. I keep getting transferred around and told to call back Monday because they cannot locate my account record. I would gladly provide my account number if I could access my email to get it off the electronic statement. Finally after an hour on the line they are dispatching a technician to hopefully correct the problem once and for all.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Mid-day Reset
Atop a bustling, frenetic Los Angeles rise countless hundreds of hills and canyons, creeks and crevices to which one can easily retreat to find quiet and solitude. Today at lunchtime I left the cacophony of LaLa land behind and took a hike.
Only 15 minutes drive from my office I shed high heels in favor of Keens and started a gentle ascent up Rustic Canyon in the Topanga Canyon State Park. I've decided I'm going to climb Mount Whitney next summer, which is the highest peak in the Continental US at 14, 4
96 ' so it's going to take some training. While local canyon hikes alone aren't enough to accomplish the job it's a nice respite from work and every little bit of effort counts. In addition to strength conditioning I'm going to have to ramp up my endurance and aerobic threshold. Though gentle enough it was still a climb and had me sporadically winded. I can't say exactly how much distance I covered because I forgot to turn on the nifty pedometer app I just put on my phone but I was walking for 1 1/2 hours. Part of that time was spend descending 504 steps to get to the creek bed. My car was parked at the top and we all know the laws of gravity.
It's amazing what you notice when you step away from the distractions of city life. The first thing that hit me was the fragrance of fennel. That distinctive smell of black licorice mixed with underlying hints of pine and the wet hayish smell of late summer grasses. Simply fresh. Padding along the path, alternating composites of dirt and pavement, I followed the trajectory of butterflies storing up what's left of summers nectar. I swear I was even followed by a lizard because everywhere I turned there it was. I even spotted him or one of his cousins doing push-ups on a tree trunk. I wondered if it was some kind of machismo mating exercise or maybe he was just telling me to buzz off. Other than oodles of song birds the only other noise I could detect was the faint hum of single engine airplanes swooshing the clear sunny sky. The majesty of coast live oak trees high above the path along with welcoming ocean breezes made most of the hike a considerably pleasant one.
I even stumbled upon an old compound no longer inhabited but I read that it was owned by Nazi sympathizers back in the '30's. It was surrounded by 3 layers of barbed wire and hidden behind a crumbling wrought iron and stone gate. Once inside the parameters there was a huge deep concrete cylinder, now gutted, burned out and riddled with graffiti. I was totally creeped out wondering what it was used for and even more so when the wind kicked up and made the eucalyptus trees sway, creaking as if someone was there. Chilling! But even the weirdness is beautiful. And the fact that I only encountered 4 other souls, mountain bikers, was even more blissful.
I realize I've been remiss with keeping up this journal of sorts. I am backlogged with months of material and drafts that I couldn't find the interest to complete. So forgive me if I go backwards in time to catch up now that I've found my voice again.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Terrorists!
We live in urban Los Angeles but there is a lot of wildlife right in our back yard. We have squirrels which eat out of our hands and respond to the names we've given them. A family of opossums has to been known to set up camp in our neighbor's walk-in closet. Over the years we have been awoken many nights by raccoons playing on our roof or jumping from tree to tree outside the window. It's actually quite amusing and feels like we're living in the wilderness at times. Jackson was always very keen to pesky little intruders onto our property and charged out from a snoring slumber to chase them off. Now that our dutiful watchman has retired the antics have been ramped up.
Frankie, our 7 1/2 year old cat, has a penchant for indoor/outdoor living. (No wonder, it's like a jungle out there!) We used to have a winterized pet door in our bedroom before the new construction started but it was relocated to the garage during the project. Frankie would never use the door and I couldn't figure out why until I observed him one day. It had 2 thick plastic panels so I presume he couldn't smell through both to determine what dangers lurk beyond. As a consequence we've had to replace the access panel with a flimsy flap that he'll use. We also have a little cut out in the door between the garage and the kitchen just big enough for Frankie to fit through - mind you, he's a pretty big cat. Basset Hounds are one dog breed that will eat themselves to death so we could never leave his food down and Frankie's was always elevated so Jackson wouldn't scarf it. Frankie has been eating his food atop Damon's workbench in the garage for his whole life. All aforementioned details aim to set the stage for what happened last night.
We pulled in the garage using the opener and noticed that Frankie's food station was in utter disarray - water and food dishes tipped over - the Tupperware canister storing his food opened and laying in the puddle of water on the floor, the trash can was askew with its bag shredded and hanging half in and half out of the pet door with wet tracks scurrying away from it. Damon grabbed a flashlight to see a gigantic masked rodent hurdling the fence and shooting a perturbed glance our way. I, myself perturbed, cleaned up the mess and brought the food in. Knowing that raccoons are highly adaptable creatures I thought perchance I was making an error. I have no interest in having the cat food inside our house - it's messy and it stinks; a dirty outdoor cat is bad enough let alone having his food and litter inside as well. With that I brought the cat in and we went to bed.
Frankie is a bed hog and I nodded off feeling him nuzzled into my legs restricting any movement not unlike any other night. Some time later I shot straight up in bed hearing an alarming noise. Someone was inside our house! So I shook Damon awake and we lay there listening a moment so we knew what kind of weapon we'd need to combat our perpetrator. I realized Frankie was no longer on the bed and said "oh it's just Frankie having a midnight snack." Damon wasn't satisfied and grabbed the flashlight and headed quietly down the hall. What he saw was a small family of raccoons noshing on Frankie's food in our kitchen! He obviously startled them and one by one they scampered off through the hole in the door.
So here we are strategizing at 3 am about how to outsmart raccoons, which unless you have a gun is no easy feat. I have no intent on killing or trapping the little vermin as our neighborhood is where they've made their home. I imagine the family has outgrown the food supply or perhaps they are simply opportunistic and the temptation was far too great. What I know for sure is that we must coexist. I need the raccoons to remain somewhere on the perimeter of my house and my cat needs to feel comfortable in his environment. If they run into Frankie he will lose that vicious battle. I think he recognizes these odds as evidenced by curious behavior that warned me he knew something had overrun his rule for which he was no match.
We have decided to test the boundaries of nature. Tonight we are leaving a small amount of food in Frankie's dish on the workbench with the lights all ablaze. If the light doesn't deter these nocturnal creatures we'll pick up the food for a few nights and establish a pattern of fruitlessness. Maybe they'll pass us up if there's nothing to steal. When we can decide on the esthetic we'll install a motion light in the backyard which should spook them enough to skidaddle. As a last resort we've learned of a special cat door with RFID collar whereby the cat approaches an electric door and his personalized collar activates a sensor which opens the door securing the notion that only authorized entries allowed. Terrorists be gone.
No tampering and nonsense last night. Fingers crossed.
Frankie, our 7 1/2 year old cat, has a penchant for indoor/outdoor living. (No wonder, it's like a jungle out there!) We used to have a winterized pet door in our bedroom before the new construction started but it was relocated to the garage during the project. Frankie would never use the door and I couldn't figure out why until I observed him one day. It had 2 thick plastic panels so I presume he couldn't smell through both to determine what dangers lurk beyond. As a consequence we've had to replace the access panel with a flimsy flap that he'll use. We also have a little cut out in the door between the garage and the kitchen just big enough for Frankie to fit through - mind you, he's a pretty big cat. Basset Hounds are one dog breed that will eat themselves to death so we could never leave his food down and Frankie's was always elevated so Jackson wouldn't scarf it. Frankie has been eating his food atop Damon's workbench in the garage for his whole life. All aforementioned details aim to set the stage for what happened last night.
We pulled in the garage using the opener and noticed that Frankie's food station was in utter disarray - water and food dishes tipped over - the Tupperware canister storing his food opened and laying in the puddle of water on the floor, the trash can was askew with its bag shredded and hanging half in and half out of the pet door with wet tracks scurrying away from it. Damon grabbed a flashlight to see a gigantic masked rodent hurdling the fence and shooting a perturbed glance our way. I, myself perturbed, cleaned up the mess and brought the food in. Knowing that raccoons are highly adaptable creatures I thought perchance I was making an error. I have no interest in having the cat food inside our house - it's messy and it stinks; a dirty outdoor cat is bad enough let alone having his food and litter inside as well. With that I brought the cat in and we went to bed.
Frankie is a bed hog and I nodded off feeling him nuzzled into my legs restricting any movement not unlike any other night. Some time later I shot straight up in bed hearing an alarming noise. Someone was inside our house! So I shook Damon awake and we lay there listening a moment so we knew what kind of weapon we'd need to combat our perpetrator. I realized Frankie was no longer on the bed and said "oh it's just Frankie having a midnight snack." Damon wasn't satisfied and grabbed the flashlight and headed quietly down the hall. What he saw was a small family of raccoons noshing on Frankie's food in our kitchen! He obviously startled them and one by one they scampered off through the hole in the door.
So here we are strategizing at 3 am about how to outsmart raccoons, which unless you have a gun is no easy feat. I have no intent on killing or trapping the little vermin as our neighborhood is where they've made their home. I imagine the family has outgrown the food supply or perhaps they are simply opportunistic and the temptation was far too great. What I know for sure is that we must coexist. I need the raccoons to remain somewhere on the perimeter of my house and my cat needs to feel comfortable in his environment. If they run into Frankie he will lose that vicious battle. I think he recognizes these odds as evidenced by curious behavior that warned me he knew something had overrun his rule for which he was no match.
We have decided to test the boundaries of nature. Tonight we are leaving a small amount of food in Frankie's dish on the workbench with the lights all ablaze. If the light doesn't deter these nocturnal creatures we'll pick up the food for a few nights and establish a pattern of fruitlessness. Maybe they'll pass us up if there's nothing to steal. When we can decide on the esthetic we'll install a motion light in the backyard which should spook them enough to skidaddle. As a last resort we've learned of a special cat door with RFID collar whereby the cat approaches an electric door and his personalized collar activates a sensor which opens the door securing the notion that only authorized entries allowed. Terrorists be gone.
No tampering and nonsense last night. Fingers crossed.
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