Sunday, January 25, 2009

London, rainy or not.

After visiting London twice now in a very short span of time, I can say that I've been allowed to know the city itself a little better...we haven't become chums and I can't say I approve of its behavior all the time, but I keep going back for more.

Very rarely will you find me jamming as much as I can into a day...I like to linger and lurk. I like to people-watch and sit in parks, ride the underground as far as it will go to see who gets on and off, walk gardens, spend the day in museums. Garrulous behavior is a fair-weather friend. But in doing these things, I get to listen, to watch, to absorb....to hear what people are talking about, to see how people are reacting to each other and the world around them. Dashing around like a crazy person trying to fit in the innumerable tourist attractions would drive me bonkers.

So what were people saying? Everyone was very worried about the economy...lots of dark laughter about money, scowls and frowning amongst businessmen wearing the same 3/4 coat (that one coat seems to be quite the phenom in London). Some idle and fun chatter one night amongst friends about being gay and some lowgrade but charming humor about the station named Cockfosters. Racist banter in Kew Gardens between a posh couple wheeling their baby (definitely of the "illegal immigrant rant" sort so popular here). Much talk in languages I couldn't understand which I heartily enjoyed...is it wrong to enjoy incomprehension? At one of the hotels I stayed in the first visit, there were people (mainly men) from all over the world...I fancy the men above me were Russian, not really sure...but they sure did drink one evening, and started singing out the windows into the night and the angry yells from other tenants joined the din (an Italian man stormed the stairs and starting yelling, but at the very end, for some reason, switched to english and yelled "Shut...the fuck...up!!!!"). I hung out on Edgware a goodly portion of my first visit, and didn't understand much of anything I heard there. Edgware has an interesting mix of people, you can spot Lebanese restaurants and hookah lounges, travel agencies for West Africa...one night while sitting in a Starbucks (yes, I did that quite a bit) there was a family drama unfolding next to me as one brother appeared to be talking with a much less responsible/respectable brother who had lost some money...I have no idea what language was being spoken, but an irritating female relative with a nice English accent said "Sorry?" about every five seconds. I felt like clocking her after a while. They were getting riled up and I left. No need to join the scuffle at the local SBs.

What were people doing? Well, the first time I went for two weeks. It was gloriously sunny and warm nearly the entire time. People were blinking like moles and soaking it in, everyone draped about the nearest available sunny spot while on their breaks. In Kew Gardens, the grass was covered with people in long heavy clothes pulled up to expose midriffs or arms, pantlegs pulled up, any spare patch of skin to soak in the light. Couples were walking in Hyde Park, and dogs romped. I personally went to a bench inside Notting Hill Gate and sat in the sun and phoned my mother on my birthday. I sighted a pretty spiderweb on one piece of wrought iron fence. Then, just sat there and basked for a while. So (from what I hear) I was getting a rather lighthearted and pleasant disposition from everyone due to the unexpected spate of good weather. People sat down to chat with me, approached me and asked me about the upcoming election, asked what it was like to live in LA. Thoroughly enjoyable. Not quite so enjoyable were the first trip's pubs. I went to the Shaston Arms off Oxford...and there was a rather large crowd of besuited and puffed up people standing around out front. Once inside at the bar, two of these same types walked up and I watched while one said to the other, "Now that you're promoted, your first order of business is to get us all drinks." So the young man pushed in front of me and did just that. The cider was quite good though.

On another note, I have rarely seen such consistently terrible treatment of waitstaff. No diner was ever pleased, no matter where I went. Tips seem to be unheard of, and when I did tip, while gratified, the server would sometimes say "Oh, you're an American" and smile. Frustrating. The tipping thing I can understand. It's considered decent here to leave 15-20% if the server is good, 10% if the server wasn't so attentive. We've become accustomed to it and include it in our mental tally when we're going out. But not so in London. The impecunious part of me says "Great! More money for me!" but still I tipped. I wonder if the wage scale is different for London waitstaff? But find it unlikely. I also suspect that some of these people aren't working on the up and up (I would work under the table - or is it called in the black? - if I lived there), which means they make even less. In the aforementioned Edgware Starbucks, a very pretty barista dealt with a particularly unpleasant piece of work in line ahead of me. I was stunned and asked if many people treated her that way, and her reply was, "You don't"...and smiled. For what it's worth, I did see many random acts of politeness committed as well...just not in a restaurant, not on the first trip.

To move on, there were many excellent art shows on at the time, including the Rothko exhibit at Tate Modern, the Francis Bacon retro at Tate Britain and the "Warhol: Other Voices, Other Rooms" exhibit (which is apparently also still available at its only US location at Wexner Center for the Arts in Columbus, OH).

I also went on a general museum crawl; the Natural History Museum was filled to the gills with people and the area displaying the dinosaurs was like Disneyland on New Year's Eve. I've never seen a museum so packed, and it's nearly a shame they don't charge anything. The exhibits are there to engage you, and engage they do...although I still find taxidermy incredibly creepy and couldn't find the rocks and minerals no matter how many times I pushed through the same crowd. The British Museum was unfortunately lost on me after the first few hours as my feet were bleeding in my unwise choice of footwear (don't wear high-heeled latex boots if you're planning on getting deeply lost in London in the rain). But I will go back soon. The collection, as always, raises questions about morality and colonialism and all that nifty stuff...but much like going to the zoo and catching my first glimpse of the prowling jaguar in its cage (guilt guilt guilt), part of me is thrilled to see these artifacts, to be so close, to study them...but neural overload and pain set in, and things went downhill from there.

On a friend's recommendation, I went to the Leighton House. Firstly, it was an absolutely charming jaunt just to get there, sunny and bright, with fall leaves swirling through the air, almost contrived, as though Pixar had taken over my backdrop. Fresh clean air and good walk. The house itself was lovely...filled with gorgeous tiles, and while I could appreciate Lord Leighton's paintings, I enjoyed his small sketches from the road the best. They were very impressionistic and fast, daubs and smears of paint trying to quickly inform or remind one of a particular landscape. There were thick lovely rugs on the floor that made me feel guilty (again) for walking on them. Statuary, cozy period furniture...places like this always make me want to sit down with a cup of tea and read.

Anyhoo, I'll go on more about London another time, more indepth on a number of things, the walks I took, more people I encountered, places to go...this has been rather slapdash, but oops! I'm out of time.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Splinters.

So tired I'm nearly blind with it, but here are a few things I saw on the freeways which caught my eye as I listened to something esoteric I can no longer remember.

1) flames gouting out of the Exxon-Mobil smokestacks in the broad daylight, reminding me of when I first met my friend Rick...we bonded oh-so-gothily and spent the night driving back and forth down these roads filled with flaming smokestacks talking Swans and such.

2) a car drives by me at least 10mph faster...a great chocolate brown dog with his chops flapping in the wind grins, and I worry about his head sticking out the window. But he looks very happy.

3) Compay Segundo's Chan Chan comes on the iPod and I try to relate it to every relationship I've ever had.

I found this translation, oddly enough, on youtube:

I'm going from Alto Cerro to Marcané
Then from Cueto, I'm going to Mayari.
The love I have for you
I cannnot deny
My mouth is watering
I just can't help myself.
When Juanica and Chan Chan
Sifted sand together on the beach
How her bottom shook and
Chan Chan was aroused!
Clean the dry sugar cane leaves
from the path
So I can get to that trunk
I want to sit down.
I'm going from Alto Cerro to Marcané
Then from Cueto, I'm going to Mayari.

[Someone] had mentioned that Chan Chan is embarrassed of Juanita's bottom shaking and of his own arousal as they gather sand together. This is the portion I muse on.

Ah, found the link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chan_Chan_(song)

So, not embarrassment. Shame. Even better.

4) the San Fernando mountains have been consistently visible, and this is rather remarkable to me...driving to Compton each day and seeing the mountains and the buildings of downtown LA looking like a bum's broken teeth...can't say it cheers me, but it is a marvel.

this pile of toothpicks brought you by
me

Sunday, January 11, 2009

The fourth...eggs and sausage.

Well then: am back from what seemed like a vacation but was really just two weekends slapped together...no more traveling for me for about 6 weeks, other than the local kind. And as I drove the freeways first to Compton, then to Long Beach, and then to Hollywood, I realized just how much travel that really is. In good traffic, it takes twenty minutes to get to Compton from Torrance driving about 70mph. Compton to Long Beach is, oh-hhh maybe 20-25 minutes. Long Beach to Hollywood is a whopping 40 minutes or so...then back to Torrance again another 25-30. I listened to nearly four full albums in my car.

Because, of course in LA, the traffic is NEVER good.

Never having quite come to terms with the massive time consumption created by LA traffic, I invariably get very cross. I hear that some people make a 3-hour commute each day, and that's utter madness to me. What could possibly be so important that you spend your entire free day in your car? But it does start to explain the phenomenal car culture in the area. Everyone wants swank cars because, hell, that's where they spend all their damned time! Tonight, there was some of the typical 5mph traffic on the 101, caused by the usual rubbernecking at someone else's misfortune.

The Hollywood trip tonight was specifically Amoeba-bound...looking for original Black Randy vinyl, which I did not find. The woman helping me hadn't heard of him; not a good sign. I also didn't locate Lady Snowblood Pts. I or II, the one eX-Girl album I'm missing nor any Veloso cds that interested me. My shopping list was a complete dud today. My Boris/OM gatefold lp (never opened), a Luis Bunuel Criterion (never opened), a Nick Cave collection of B-sides and some Diamanda Galas cds were turned into a hefty credit of $100. I purchased two more lovely dvds with said credit. The newest Criterion versions of Lang's M and Kurosawa's Red Beard. Took my treasures a few miles around the bend to the ever-lovin' Canter's Deli on Fairfax and tore them open whilst munching on greek olives and pita bread. There are so many good restaurants about, but for some reason the NY-style diner atmosphere keeps me warm at night.

Daphne's favorite day in Los Angeles usually goes this way: take the 405N to the 710N to the 5N to the 101N. Get off on Sunset. Stay in the right lane. Merge onto Sunset. Get in the left lane. Look for ArcLight Cinemas...Amoeba Music is on the next block. ArcLight has special AFI presentations during the week, so best to keep on top of those before leaving the house. Amoeba has special musical guests...good to be aware of those as well! After these two potential pit stops, farther west down Sunset takes you to Meltdown Comics (on the left after the brightly neon-lit strip clubs, "Seventh Veil" and such). They too may have a special guest or two, but great for window-shopping regardless. Even further down Sunset, you come to Fairfax, where I ALWAYS take a left. Drive a mile or so down, and there is the Silent Movie Theatre. They have something great on the burner every damned night, and their present pamphlet pretty much depicts how I picture myself every time I'm hiking in the desert. Oooo, Saturday is "Fucked-Up Kids' Movies" night! Past the Silent Movie Theatre, heading south, we finally get to Canter's. Invariably there is the same very sociable guy panhandling next to the parking lot...dollar dropped. Once inside Canter's, more dollars dropped. And after the hot cuppa joe and some huge sculpture of a diner sandwich, it is time to get the poppyseed rugalah for the drive home. A little banter with the waitress (imported straight from Jersey, I'm positive), and it's time to go.

Sometime I'll regale you with my museum and gallery crawl.

But for now:

A song for the handsome Japanese musician who dropped his guitar accidentally on the corner outside Amoeba, to the perpetually nice transient who confuses me and makes me slightly sad, to the surly overtired waitress at Canter's, the 8-year old girl who told me she liked my hair A LOT, to a very bored-looking man standing at a traffic light, and a milling crowd outside a theater....I'm in love with love and life and a little of the urban tonight.

"Eggs and Sausage (In a Cadillac With Susan Michaelson)" by Tom Waits

Sunday, January 4, 2009

The third...in twenty-four hours.

So, let's get some actual travel reporting in and solidify this sucker!

I've been on Santa Catalina Island since Friday afternoon. If you aren't quite sure where that is (and honestly, they are quite modest about their popularity, self-describing themselves as a "lesser-known island"), here is an illuminating link: Santa Catalina Island, California

Am presently staying at the Glenmore Plaza Hotel. Firstly, let me be clear here: I booked the hotel through hotels.com, which is usually pretty good for cheap rates and didn't disappoint this time. It is the oldest hotel on the island, and also the least expensive. An old Victorian style building, yellow, hard to miss - in fact, I'd forgotten to print out my confirmation and indeed had forgotten the hotel's name with nothing other than a vague recollection of where it was, and I still found it. Leading me to mention that Catalina's town of Avalon is not very large. The rooms in the hotel are quite cozy in a sort of non-Euclidian way.

Avalon itself is hyper-tourism incarnate, at least near the docks. I've heard that it costs $10K a year to have a private boat mooring here. Hm-mmm. Just investigated, and mooring fees cost $20 to $80 per night based on boat length...so watch out, all you size queens! If you had a yacht (and the likelihood is great, of course) and were moored for a year, it would be a little over $29K. Gosh. Lucky you. The town is jam-packed with restaurants and specialty shops, although this time of year they open and close rather whimsically. Tonight I went to a place called The Landing, which was nice enough...salads and steaks, a full bar, nothing exotic. The best part of the room (to me) was the fireplace, which I sat so close to my eyes began to water. Has been a cold day.

Out on boats all day. I'd wanted to rent a bike and explore the island, unwittingly assuming you could ride out and around the coast. However, for those who may have the same ambition, the bikes are relegated to Avalon Proper. So I nixed that idea, and went in search of other fare. Was surprised to discover that whales are already migrating - the gray whales are passing by. And so are orcas, since they like to eat the grey whale calves...a bit of info I'm less than pleased with. The gent in the whale watch booth insisted that the orcas only eat the gray whales' tongues. I have not been able to verify this grisly piece of information, nor am I sure I want to. Signed up for a trip (with a small prayer that no orcas would show up). I've been on a few whale-watching sojourns, and they always go out on large ferry-style boats. The set-up here is a little different. I arrived at the assigned meeting place and was told to head to Gate 5 and "look for the yellow dinghy". And sure enough, it was a tiny yellow dinghy. Thrilling really - I like more personal adventures, so this was a good sign. 5 other people arrived, and off we went. I wore four layers, plus a hat and scarf, which was far too hot for the general weather, but once out on the water, damn! Freezing!!! We went to the south and west around the lower tip of the island past "Lover's Cove", past the quarry...eyebrows raised a little at the sight of a quarry on what seems like a very finite amount of land. "Iron and silver used to be mined here, but now only granite is exported." (we asked)

As for fauna, there were many sea lions (discovery: the Catalina sea lion is smarter than the average bear and is the specific animal used in circus shows and the like); one very fidgety bald eagle (whose eggs are finally hatching on their own after a very long recovery from exposure to DDT); a mass of pelicans on poo-splattered rocks; and finally, the show-stopper(s).

We bounced and jounced our way toward sea a bit to locate sea mammals of any stripe or color...seemed pretty barren until one little white wake appeared in the distance. The captain announced, "We might have a dolphin!"; as it got closer, it looked to be more. But when they arrived, oh my god. Hundreds and hundreds of dolphins!! Who decided they might like to play for a bit. Lots of flipping, jumping and slapping, and riding the boat's wake. Wonderful! The trip was more than worth it before, but this event kind of made the entire New Year feel right. These were Common dolphins. And so many of them! ^^ While enjoying many (perceived as) benificent playful aquatic mammals, we also had the slightly less fun experience of seeing a waterspout form. But a unique trip, that I'll grant! Was great fun and just what I was looking for. Got back to land soaked through (the boat bounced and splashed quite a bit once we headed away from the coast), my glasses spotted with saltwater, and my camera lens (protected by a filter) as well. Didn't realize how numb my extremities were until I tried to write. Entertaining results. But, not being able to give up on a good thing, I dashed off and signed up for a "nighttime underwater tour" of the coast.

The nighttime tour was a bit of a letdown - was hoping for sharks, rays, octopus, something terribly dramatic...the underwater tours at night are to find predators and scavengers, and they tend to hide. The company had gone out and placed 75 pounds of bait on the ocean floor. By the time we started making the rounds, the bait was covered with hundreds of lobsters. These were different from east coast lobsters, no giant claws. And lobsters would be almost all there was to see, other than the occasional garibaldi glaring out flourescently from its domain; also a few bass and sardines. And the kelp forest. Giant strands of bladder kelp, so thick in the water they covered the front of the boat. Amazing. I fancy I saw an eel as well. The best part of the trip for me was when all lights were shut off and we watched the bioluminescence (its light activating because it is scared, supposedly), millions of little particles streaming by. The crew informed us that since the island's plumbing is 75% salt water, we might want to shut off our lights and flush the toilet if we wished to see more of the bioluminescent organisms...! Poor little guys.

And so the night ended. After that, was frozen to the bone...no more adventures. Went to the aforementioned Landing, had a coffee with a shot of amaretto and a salad, then called it a night. There have been more exciting endings to a day, but it will do :)



Addendum: found this YouTube vid and it is nigh-exactly what I saw (was looking for my captain's video, didn't find it). "My" dolphins were more frisky though, leaping in the air and flipping outrageously. Give it a minute. All those little white wakes in the distance? Watch as they catch up to the boat :)

Saturday, January 3, 2009

The second...bluegrass tingles.

May as well begin with the beginning, no?

My younger life was somewhat transitory. It is only recently, as my brother pointed out one night in a rather pompous wine bar (redundant), that I realized when my parents said we were "going camping" it might well mean something else! The fact that I never noticed nor cared is a loving wave to my folks. But it must be admitted that we were fairly gypsy-ish. From this early lifestyle I gained a love for travel, a fear of settling down, a tendency to cut ties and a lack of responsibility. There were flush times and hard times...times when we were so broke other poor people were stealing food for us, and times when all seemed dandy. Again, as a kid, it's hard to relate....I was very intuitive in some ways, noticing every degree of fluctuation in my parents' emotional relationship, and yet not understanding the ramifications of having Spam for Thanksgiving.

We traveled from home to home...I have also gained a very selective memory. Part of the "cutting ties" bit, I think. I couldn't begin to describe most of the houses I lived in. There was one that had a late 60's motif in the bathroom with purple floral wallpaper and bright green shag carpeting....I remember the "haunted house" in Whitesboro, which deserves a blog entry all its own....the various terrible college apartments, but then we're past the beginning and into the middle.

I lived with my grandparents quite often, and now assume this was during times of separation between my parents, or when we simply could not afford to live elsewhere. I still have bad dreams about my grandparents' home, which is a shame. I loved that house, and remember it down to nearly every detail. Another segment that deserves its own telling.

But mainly what it comes down to is an early life that formed the later; a need to keep on the move, to feel slightly displaced, and to easily meet others and just as easily lose them again. It has been a marvel to me that many old friends have recently reinstated contact of a sort.

So now you have the building blocks, the Lincoln Log framework - and we can move forward.

Before I forget, here are two songs that I must have heard 5000 times as a kid. One terrified me as I lay at night under the covers while my parents were in the living room smoking pot with friends....the other remains a fond memory of many bluegrass concerts with the smell of cut grass and beer on the air, blankets on the ground and gnats hanging around our heads. They've stuck with me all these years and still send shivers up my spine. Perhaps no one else's...but mine.

"Country and Eastern Music" by Jerry Goodman and Jan Hammer

"Please Don't Bury Me" by John Prine

The first.

So. It is the year 2009. I already have a sickly blog out there, blindly groping its way around the internet, occasionally entering my friends' homes and begging for attention...and for some reason I've decided to begin another, perhaps hoping it will be a heartier waif than the last.

I adore music, but there are so many glorious music-filled blogs out there already...I can (and will) certainly point them out to you. This batch of typed folderol may include music, but what it really will be (supposedly) is a travelogue. Not of the usual kind, maybe, but hopefully informative and entertaining...and if my navel-gazing once in a while assists you in some way, do let me know! Am always keen to help.

Meandering has been a part of my life for, well...forever, really. If by "forever" we understand it to mean "since my birth". But recently it has hit a fever pitch, and it occurs to me that someone else doesn't need to make the same mistakes if I've made them already! These mistakes could relate to any facet of life. This may be about traveling, but will incorporate all things (i.e., I get to write about whatever the hell I like and you will have to cope). And this exercise won't be entirely about mistakes; it will be about choices and experience, life-love-laughter-tears, all that jazz. So in two paragraphs we've gone from music to travel to mistakes to life. Some of my favorite things! Wondering if Julie Andrews would sing that song?

Finally, the blog's title comes from my favorite decadent snack I usually enjoy when writing romantic notes about where I've been and what I've been doing...so expect a plum wine flavored kiss to be blown on the air to you shortly.