She's got a ticket to ride

Bethy Beth: Accidental Tourist or Proud American Citizen?

2009-01-21T06:49:00.004+01:00

Well, here's a dilemma: I set up two separate Blogs By Beth, in the hopes of managing my in-town/out-of-town split personality. But noooo, I had to go and put that Chesterson quote in the heading, and whadyaknow, I really do feel like a foreigner in my own country. Typically, this takes one of two forms.

Exhibit A
late October 2008; Turin, Italy:

-Surreal, part I. Getting American ballots sent to an Italian address. I know they verify I am an American citizen over the age of 18 somewhere during the whole voting process, but still. Surreal.

-Surreal (plus astonishing, demoralizing -- talk about Shock and Awe!), part II: [reading to myself] "What's this -- Eliminates Rights of Same-Sex Couples to Marry. Initiative Constitutional Amendment?? -- WHAT?? No way. Surely I read that wrong -- I must have missed the 'not' somewhere..."

I read it another few times, then go Googling on my computer to see if a change of media might give me a more Enlightened answer. To which my conclusion is, "Holy Crap, California! I leave you alone for ONE MINUTE (okay, more like 5 months), and you come up with THIS?? This is Marriage PROTECTION?? Protection my a**!! Hmm -- on 2nd thought, never mind..."

I quell my disbelief long enough to connect the big fat arrow under NO, while consoling myself, "Heck. I've already threatened not to come back if Obama doesn't win. I'll just add a tiny qualification stipulating "No on 8", no big deal!" Unfortunately, it was a big deal. Still is. Damn.

Anyhow, moving on.

Exhibit B
late January 2009; San Francisco, CA, *U*S*A*:

That's B for *Barack*, of course! Meet my mom and Aunt Nelda to watch simulcast of the inauguration on The Big Screen, Civic Center Plaza. My fellow San Fran Hipsters sing the Darth Vader theme during shots of Dick Cheney and hurl "Good Riddance's" upon seeing most famous person ever to read "My Pet Goat" during a national emergency.

Afterward, we discover a beautiful tapestry kinda thing that people have been signing all morning. I want to write something, though lacking any witticisms of my own, I call on Reverend Lowry's recent words -- words which rippled 1.7 miles from Mr. President's dimples all the way down the Mall to the Washington Memorial, "We ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get in back, when brown can stick around. When yellow will be mellow, when the red man can get ahead, man; and when white will embrace what is right"....!

Yes, sir, right away sir, Mr. Spritely 87-year-old I-don't-clip my eyebrows Lowery, I'll do my best!!

That's the thing, I really prefer Exhibit B over Exhibit A. They both have the potential to make me feel like a foreigner, but one results from expecting the worst and being pleasantly surprised, while the other -- well, you know, it's the opposite. I'm hopin' for a solid 4 years of Exhibit B, and hurrah hurrah, I've got company. See below.

Exhibit C:
Me with my new friend & Partner in Hope. I think we may have gotten our shirts mixed up...

Un giorno dolce e amaro

2008-11-07T06:53:00.002+01:00

Sigh...the day has finally come. My visa has run out and somehow, so have my Euros.
Guess I have to come back to the United States!

When departing for this odyssey last May, I made faint threats that if this Elekchun Bid-ness don't get over soon, I would defy my papers and just stay in Italy covertly forever and ever. Luckily, some of the American people have some sense! In honor of that, Trevor and I joyfully marched into Ignacio's on Wednesday and commanded him, "Ignacio! Per favore, due cappucini per Obama!"

So yes, return to my native country is bittersweet. It will be nice to have a president I am not alternately enraged and embarrassed by. But on the other hand, there will be a severe lack of 3 Euro wine, gelato outside my door, and pasta con seppia...

I have learned much, some of which I'll be able to detail on the various planes I take today. I'll begin with Rule Number One. See the picture for more info. :-)

Just doin' my job...

2008-11-04T15:39:00.003+01:00

So like a good American, I started worrying as soon as I got up this morning, even though it was still Monday, even in New York! And then I donned my Obama "Dare to Hope" shirt and had Trevor take a picture of me at the corner where I've been seeing posters for the Democratic Party all Summer (and thus far, Autumn as well)...

My "ad" got lots of exposure too, since Katherine and I had the fortune of going to 2 different post offices (with cafe stop in between) to mail our respective packages. That is, it seems huge rice paper with no words goes out of one post office, while 30 books, of which none have been read to completion, goes out of another. Good thing it's been raining all day.

Well, now Trevor and I are being Silicon Valley types, sitting at our favorite cafe ("Ignacio's" for those of you in the know...), not for sociability so much as piggy backing on the free, and mysteriously always available, wireless connection....

Anyhow, I've done my possible (sent in our absentee ballots weeks ago!), and I'm depending on you East Coast through West Coast time zones to finish out the landslide...or gee, at least produce a definitive win!

Dare to Hope! Audace e speranza!

Tour guides of the highest order

2008-10-29T15:32:00.003+01:00

Going on your 2nd guided bike tour is a special place, where one feels qualified to comment on the in's and out's of arranging and/or biking a bike tour -- after all, at the end of it all, I have TWICE as much experience! (Doncha love statistics? It reminds me of what my dad has said all these years -- a statistician is someone who can drown in a foot of water -- which I believe means the statistician is either dumb, or regrettably and highly accident prone...)

Anyhow, this bike tour is a bit different, in that Lorenzo arranged all the bike routes and hotel arrangements, though he has not been physically with us as we bike (to date) our 80 kilometers. This is not to say he is any better or worse than My Favorite Bulgarian Guide ever, Andre -- moreso that we were on our own upon biking toward Montabano, and thus, what a relief to come upon the happiest non-yippy super-fast guide-dog of Northern Italy, whose name is Snoopy! (Pictures to come)

Super-fast Snoopy is most assuredly is not a beagle as one might think -- something much more fluffy (which is about as close I'll likely come to knowing his breed...) He accompanied us over hill and dale to, and through, Montabano, where we had hopes of finding a comodo cafe to sit and read our books. Mind you, we did not find said cafe, though he did give us a nice looped tour through the town, waiting patiently at each turn to ensure we were going the right way.

I found out his name was Snoopy as we were finishing up our loop, and an adorable Italian nonna was calling his name from her balcony...though on 2nd thought, he didn't stop, turn around, or give any sign of having heard her, so maybe his name isn't Snoopy...or maybe he's just the typical adolescent.

Tonight, we are having yet another wine tasting. Barbera Superiore is thus far the winner -- but keep in mind this judgement come from a girl who rates and accepts classical music on how bombastic it is.

To the hills!

2008-10-27T08:10:00.002+01:00

So yay, now that we've biked 300 or so kilometers through the rolling hills of Bulgaria -- we are off to do it again! But this time, the rolling hills of Piemonte, wherein one can take a break from wine tasting with a little bit o' bike riding.

Good thing we have such a lovely weather forecast for this week!

Dreams in Italian -- just in time!

2008-10-25T12:14:00.002+02:00

So, in Elizabeth Gilbert's possibly ubiquitous chick-empowerment novel, Eat, Pray, Love, she talks about how, after living in Italy for several months, one magical day, the clouds parted and angels sang*, and she noticed her brain had finally made the switch to not only speaking in Italian, but thinking in Italian as well. During these past 5 months, I kept lamenting, in my Dark Norwegian way, how I would not experience said parting clouds and singing angels, since I was 1) mostly hanging around English-speaking Americans, and 2) constantly abandoning Turin to have a Guinness in Ireland or a bike ride in Bulgaria.

And yet! I just now realized I had a somewhat incomprehensible dream last night about buying some espadrilles in some resort-y Italianate town, and then talking to the lady, entirely a Italiano about the adjustments I needed (seems the straps were too long?), and how my friends were on the boat waiting for me. (A boat? Where? What friends? Were they speaking Italian too?? I told you it was incomprehensible.)

So yay, now I kind of know what she was talking about. Good thing I have a whole 13 days left in this country to practice my oh-so-fluid Italian. Though on the other hand (the non-sinister one maybe?), turns out our visa is actually for 166 days PLUS ONE HOUR! Whew-ee! That's an increase of .02635 per cent, or so!

*Editor's note: not a direct quote -- more of an "artist's interpretation" of said passage. :-)

T-15 to blastoff

2008-10-23T01:21:00.003+02:00

Wow, what a few weeks it has been! We've had copious visits from many Californians, and in the middle, a 3 week Bulgaria-Turkey-Greece-Croatia-(Bosnia & Herzegovina)-
return-to-Turin-by-way-of-Venice trip!

We are finally back home, and I keep hoping I might get some pictures and some words up, but alas, I am back in the familiar territory of last May, affectionately known as How the Heck Do I Pack Up This House and Fit All My Possessions into Two Suitcases Before We Leave on November 7th?

Yes -- the proverbial clock is nearing its proverbial midnight and I am dangerously close to turning into a pumpkin (why do we girls always say that?? Nowhere in that story does Cinderella turn into a pumpkin!).

So fine, I'll not be turning into a pumpkin. Though it's still possible I could turn into a despondent, pouty Americana for want of daily cappuccinos and slow-food gelato. Stay tuned for further developments.

The sun might come out tomorrow....

2008-10-17T14:55:00.003+02:00

....but then again, we've been "on the road" 3 weeks now, and only suffered about 1.5 day-equivalents due to inclement weather. That leaves approximately 19.5 days of absolutely gorgeous, sun-filled bike rides and kayak trips. I guess you could say that's while we're still smiling.

Kayaking the Adriatic, Day 2

2008-10-13T16:50:00.002+02:00

Kayak Croatia
The water is crystal clear
and the tourists gone.

Start on the south end,
Paddle around to the north,
Squid lunch in the sun!

Huge tangerine tree
Outside our hotel window.
For afternoon yum!

editor's note. editor cannot find parentheses, apostrophes, hypens, question marks, and other seemingly necessary modes of expression, thus resorting to the simplicity of the 17 syllable haiku. OMG! I almost forgot to use the Best Haiku Line Ever....

We eat quite well here,
Phat k bobs and salad too,
We like to drink beer!

330 kilometers, 14 bruises, 8 scratches, and 14 dirty socks later: I love Bulgaria!

2008-10-06T14:17:00.002+02:00

Now plowing into my 3rd hour sitting in this internet cafe, I deem it absolutely necessary to get outside. There's too much English in here. Make it stop!

Ergo, you get the evaluation I just sent off to Penguin Tours...and in the process, find out what I was doing all last week! (What further blows my mind is that I went those EIGHT DAYS without checking my email. I tried to think when that last happened-- I got as far back as "the internet didn't exist then", and realized it had been a long time.)

Beth Nelson to ivailo
show details 3:15 PM (0 minutes ago) Reply

Hi Ivailo,

I was one of the travelers on the recent Balkan Cycling Tour.
I promised Andre I would send my evaluation via email so that you guys can actually read what I wrote. :-) So, here it is! I tried to refer to the questions/sections enough to correlate with the form that is given out.

Many thanks to you and Andre and all the others that make this tour so great. I had a really wonderful time -- we got terribly lucky with weather and traveling partners, but the rest, the stuff that has to be planned was organized, fun, and completely fascinating. I would love to do another tour with Penguin again, and will definitely evangelize Penguin to all my friends
(In the non-religious sense of course)!

Top section (untitled)
Balkan Cycling Tour, 9/27-10/4
I am from San Francisco, California
We found this tour by randomly searching on the internet -- lucky, huh!

Trip information
Highlights -- seeing a variety of mosques, well laid out bike rides, traveling & riding with fun & interesting people, feeling like I saw the "interior" of Bulgaria
Low points -- I really don't think we had any (Well, the Norwegians had some challenges just getting to Bulgaria -- naturally that was worse for them than for us!)
Itinerary -- excellent. I was really glad to see Bulgaria in such depth. Also, whenever we changed plans (e.g. skipping a monastery, driving a section instead of riding it), Andre would always tell us all the options, but we always decided as a group.
As regards interaction with local people & their way of life: yes yes yes! We found Bulgarians to be warm and accommodating people. I found it especially entertaining to be out in the country and have them fascinated by us almost as us by them. And don't forget the cats! We saw lots of lovely local cats as well.
Suggested improvements: I really don't have any; it was an awesome trip.

Guide evaluation
Andre was a fantastic guide -- but he was more than a guide. He was doctor, translator, historian, entertainer, friend...it's almost kind of pathetic how lost we were without him (we realized this when he left the restaurant table for 2 minutes, and we couldn't even get ourselves soda water...). Restaurants, accommodations, having fun but challenging bike rides -- these were all phenomenal experiences that would never have been so successful without his help.

Accommodation & food
Amazing, fantastic, beautiful. Especially nice was the hotel in that town where the rich merchants paid the Turks to stay away, and the pension run by the lady that used to be a professional cook. We ate well for three meals because of her! (i.e. dinner, breakfast, AND she fixed us sandwiches to take on the road. They were yummy.)

Transportation
Great -- our plans/arrangements came off without a hitch. We showed up in Sofia and there was Andre with a smiling face and a sign that had my boyfriend's name on it! Right away, we knew we were in good hands.

Miscellaneous
Is trip price-worthy? absolutely
Was pre-trip information correct? As I recall, yes, for the most part....it might be nice to have a little more information on the accommodations -- particularly with regard to the 1st night, since that one was in someone's home (I don't have any problem staying in someone's home -- it's just nice to know ahead of time...)

Personal information
I am female.
Age group 35-44
I booked about a week ahead -- we're not big planners. :-)
I typically travel abroad 1-2 times per year.

Next time -- I don't know -- what's good? It almost depends more on what's available during my vacation time than actually where the trip is to.
Usual travel times -- these aren't terribly consistent; they are usually coordinated with conferences or other meetings for my or my boyfriend's job.

Here ends the evalution. So...let the evangelizing begin! Take a Penguin tour! Fun fun fun! Pictures/additional promotional advice will be posted someday...

What good did the Reformation DO?? *

2008-10-05T09:26:00.004+02:00

Sofia, Bulgaria (AP): Observe! Trevor and I make motions toward lessening our heathen-y ways...in fact, we went to this church THREE TIMES in just this weekend! (That may have something to do with not knowing exactly when the male choir sings, but third time was the charm...)

The multiple visits were worth the effort -- to hear a male choir (almost) on the caliber of Chanticleer in a real live church where history has happened! And now for my famous last words: More on that later...

*An ever-famous quote from one Dr. Charles G. Nelson, to be explained at a later date, or in the imminently appearing BETH-E-pedia....

Open letter to everyone who thinks I don't write or call enough....

2008-09-18T10:52:00.003+02:00

Some of you seem underwhelmed with my disregard for communication of the personal nature, such as phone calls or emails. For all that hold sentiments of this kind, here's a few things you might take into account:

1. I haven't even written to *anyone* since Barack Obama won the nomination -- not even my PARENTS!(Hi Mom! Hi Dad! I got home from France okay!)

2. There's a good bit of housework to do....

[number 3] Priority goes to those who come visit!

Arrivederci, Cinque Terre....c'e vediamo ancora!

2008-09-15T09:54:00.000+02:00

It just so happens we are now returning from our 3rd trip to Cinque Terre this summer. When Trevor initially floated this idea, my tourist brain said it was non disponibile!....I mean, "only" five months in Europe and you go to one place three times???

Well, as with many things Trevor suggests, it turned out (by and large) to be an excellent idea. Though, as we bummed around Manarola and Vernazza yesterday, I thought with a faint dread, dios mio, do I really have to write a blog entry when we get back to the hotel tonight at 11pm?? My sleepy little head said no. And then I thought, but I love this place! How am I going to remember why if I don't take note of some of it?

And hence, what I assume to be the most efficient form of blog posting,

Beth's Top Ten List for Cinque Terre:

10. black pasta
9. free concert in the piazza
8. dawwwgs
7. room with a view
6. mussels and hearts
5. sunsets
4. cats napping in flowerpots
3. copious declarations of love
2. returning to Billy's Trattoria
1. boat rides

....pictures are forthcoming....

It's only worth 1000 words if you actually know 1000 words...

2008-09-12T19:03:00.002+02:00

....vous son ici a Nice, France! (Have no idea if that was understandable or grammatically correct -- Trevor and I are using the "I'll speak Italian and mumble a lot and maybe that will sound like French....??" approach.

Today has been a rigorous day of trying to understand technology and not getting very far! And *that*, dear people, is why there are no pictures. Or nothing really, except to say we are still alive, and I didn't get horribly sunburned at the beach.

More from Italy. :-)

Why be John Malkovich, when you can be Beth Nelson?*

2008-09-04T00:27:00.002+02:00

Although, once you know I left Turin at 6 this morning got back nary 30 minutes ago, "Being Beth Nelson" looks a bit less attractive...

It was quite a day, none the less. Trevor is at a conference in Amsterdam -- so, left to my own devices, what do I do? A pilgrimage to Cremona, of course! Now, for those of you who didn't read your Grout (and I could hardly blame you), Cremona is kind of like mecca for string players. The Guarneri and Amati families, as well as Antonio Stradivarius made an orchestra's-worth of violins, violas, and cellos there; in present day, their spirit lives on in 120 luthiers scattered around town. (Actual Strads & Guarneris are nowhere to be seen -- they're "out" with Yo-Yo Ma & Lynn Harrell). Instead, when you go visit these guys and play their instruments, they hand each one to you with a pedigree of exactly which Guarneri or Stradivarius that particular instrument was fashioned after.

All in all, I got to play 10 different cellos today, ranging in price from 9,000 to 31,000 Euro. Quite a range, huh? What makes it even more bizarre is how many times my instrument preferences have not correlated with the higher price tags, both today and in the past. That 31,000 one -- it was okayyy -- but the other one (Spanish, mind you) had a lot more substance. I was lucky to have a few other musicians around to give input as well as the luthiers. They kept telling me it sounded like an organ. I was actually a little fuzzy on whether they thought I *should sound like an organ, or should not, but it was always said with such Italian
entusiasmo, so it must be good! :-)

Because I'm a dork, I was heading for the Guarneri del Gesu cafe on my lunch break, which meant walking through the daily market at the Piazza (di Giuseppe Verdi, of course!) And what should I discover, but the requisite Stradivarius statue -- it seems Stradivarius didn't just have an ear for music, but maybe an eye for fashion as well? Those khaki pants were pretty nice...

*That Beth and her pop culture references! Well, if you don't get that one, all I can tell you is go to Wikipedia and look up "Being John Malkovich. I already spent today's energy playing cellos. :-P

MNiFA, installment #30527

2008-08-26T21:26:00.000+02:00

FINALLY! The day arrived which I feared might never come – the shop owners of Torino are back from vacation! Whew!

Little by little, shop by shop (of course they don’t all reopen on the same day – the Germans might do it that way, but not the Italians!), I return to the culinary standards I got used to in July; but was so abruptly deprived of in August. I went foraging this afternoon to see the latest new possibilities (still no fresh pasta, wah!), and my favorite so far is the produce guy on the corner – he’s like Pinchas, he knows everyone! That, and the supposed fact that I live in a pedestrian-free area, will never cease to amuse me – a couple of this guys’ buddies came rumbling by in an ancient-looking pickup truck. The one riding shotgun yelled something presumably funny, such that Mr. Produce Man ran out to the truck and seemed to say the Italian version of “gedaahttatowwn!” – but not before he threw them each a banana from the box just inside the door. All around me, in the shops, in the street – I hear a como stai here, a ciao bella there, as if my little Contrada dei Guadinfanti neighborhood was having a big 8-block family reunion and we’re all related.

Mr. Produce Man tallies up my nectarines (sooo yum), kiwis, and peaches – my lot comes to a whole Euro 4,80 – and he says – as if this is some special deal – for you – 10 Euro! I was so focused on getting my Italian right that his joke didn’t sink in until I was walking down the street with more change than I had expected to have…at which point I hear behind me a general hullaballoo and “signora, signora!” The shopkeeper is running after me – “signora, your shopping list!”. Oh heavens yes, must have one’s shopping list! Whatever would I do, if I returned home without fresh mozzarella in hand? That would make a very sad Trevor indeed!

I wonder who will be open tomorrow. Will I finally get my Nebbiolo, per favore, bella per favore – con ciliegia a sopra?

Greetings from Camp Granada*

2008-08-22T23:35:00.003+02:00

How curious that a trip to another country could trigger bouts of homelessness for the States…

Although, that could be circumstantial, and it wasn’t just any country – it was another English speaking country!

Not to mention –
-the previously mentioned Guinness (which just may have been distracting me from said homesickness)
-that I’ve been reading (and sympathizing with) Under the Tuscan Sun, by a woman who also makes her home in San Francisco
-same goes for “Mother Tongue” by Bill Bryson. I mean really! Where do we get off, taking a word like ‘colonel’ and pronouncing it the French way, and but spelling it like the Italians??
-and most of all! We returned home from Ireland, and had ONE piece of mail, and do you know what it was??? Holy cow (and I saw a lot of those) it was from my BROTHER – you know, the one I said most of you didn’t know I had – and he had sent me a BIRTHDAY card! (Pay no mind to the great passage of time since my actual birthday; my brother is deeply ensconced in bringing Japanese Mah Jong to the world at large – important stuff!)

OTOH* (as we hectic ones are wont to say), there was a good bit I missed about Italy during 9 days in Ireland…
-why is it only the Italians that have figured out how to make good (or even drinkable) coffee?
- writing, at home, with the windows open – perfectly warm air and ripples of conversation below
-using “hello beautiful!”(ciao bella!) as a common greeting
-cute summery clothes
-gelato and pasta – nuff said

and OTOOH**, I had a cruel awakening upon touchdown in Milan – maybe not an awakening so much as an onslaught – we come out of the double doors at the airport and I’m struck with a powerful wave of thick, humid air--even though it’s 9:00 at night! Ugh. I turn to Trevor, who liked Ireland for the rain, pouting, and somewhere between whispering and whining, I say, “I missss Ireland…”

I guess, at the end of the day, homesickness (at least mine) is all relative.

*if on this reference you draw a blank, check out the wikipedia entry.
**on the other hand
***on the other other hand (didn’t see that one coming, didja?)

Confirmed: skyrocketing health and happiness

2008-08-13T23:47:00.000+02:00

One gentle reader suggested, in response to my previous post that I might appropriately manage my health care with Guinness. Wouldja look at the foam on that baby. Mmm-mmm! Never have I enjoyed a mustache soooo much!

Oh, and it’s raining outside to boot. Health and happiness are lookin' up.

Today was a big day for me -- Trevor had claimed that I, what with my inability to comprehend mumblers, was going to have no chance of understanding anything anybody said in Ireland. That sounded worse than Italy, where they are a speaking a language I know I don’t know, so I was a little worried. I couldn’t think of anything worse than hearing English and still having no idea what people were saying.

So far, I’ve been okay, and he’s the one having trouble – though I’m not the one here on business, so I can sooner get away without talking to people.  Actually, today the lucky guy (a.k.a. Trevor) returned from work, with reports of a cab driver eager to speak his mind on “ol’ Georgie Porgie”, which makes this one of those “why didn’t *I* think of that??” times, in terms of using nursery rhymes to allude to the infantile ways of certain world leaders.

In fact, rather than talking to people, I ventured to the grocery store, which proved to be quite the economical diversion – for less than 20 euro, I got an hour of entertainment, plus walked out with wine, candy of various sorts, toothpaste, and erm, some of those things girls need from time to time…see below for documentation of the curiosity that is The Irish Grocery Store.

Why wonder? Know for sure that you're cabbing under the influence.

If you're unhappy with the wine you bought, bring it in before 10pm and we'll trade it to you for a Guinness.

A unique gold coating? For only 2 Euro 29?? This is what the people want?

I thought "press on" was something my P.E. teacher told us when we were running too slowly -- some kind of call for perseverance. Not only was I mystified by "press-on" -- but towels? Press-on towels???

Gentire, il mio asino!!

2008-08-11T15:24:00.002+02:00

Allora....this particular post will have nothing to do with Living In Italy, except as regards the difficulty and/or impossibility of managing one's health care from 5,000 miles and 9 time zones away...

I've elected to conduct an informal poll. Feel free to leave your vote and/or sympathy in the comments section.

Main question:

Assuming you are an American, has it been your experience that managed health care is somewhat of a misnomer? Has it been your experience that your health care is actually "managed"? (If you are not an American, congrats. The universe has looked upon you with favor.)

Follow-up questions:

Are there other terms you feel are more suitable for the nature of your health care? e.g. "mangled", "obliterated", "non-existent", "expensive on the level of highway robbery"?

Oh -- and the subject line. Cussing isn't really cussing if you do it in another language, right? (Then again, typing "ass" into Google translate may in fact return donkey and not the intended. Though I've never heard great shakes about the health care for donkeys either...)

And I thought cutting the bread was hard...

2008-08-09T19:51:00.002+02:00

So we're in Aosta for the weekend -- the visit was instigated by a listing I found for "Prokofiev's Romeo & Juliet, with music by viola and piano, plus puppets!" We arrived yesterday, and discovered to our delight that this is also the weekend of The Wood Festival (um, so, pretty sure it doesn't directly translate as The Wood Festival, but whatever they call it, it seems it is so obvious/ingrained in the culture as to not need specification.)

The "puppet show", to oversimplify to the point of deceipt, was absolutely incredible, IMHO. To begin with, the performance was at a castle with lovely wrought iron balconies, and walls of ivy that rippled in the gentlest, most-perfectly-temperatured breeze I have ever seen, heard, OR felt.

So much to say, so little time. There is a tall hungry man standing over me with nothing else for amusement. More detail to follow...(e.g. explaining the subject line!)

A little Indian -- complimented with talk of Strauss, Stanford, and Electrical Engineering

2008-08-03T21:46:00.004+02:00

Apologies to those who thought today was going to be another post about living in Italy. Mamma mia, no! Today is an historic day! In Palo Alto, California, good ol' U.S. of A., my parents are finally meeting Trevor's dad, nephew, and maybe even stepmom! for the very first time. To set the stage, here's the picture I found of their address on Google Maps' street view...and that picture is pretty much right -- most times I go over to The Cornell House, as its called, there are two Prius, one silver and one red. Now that's good liberal Palo Altans for ya, huh!

My dad, on the other hand, *used* to be a "good liberal Palo Altan", until he got a job and had to relocate to Sacramento. Oh well. Anyhow, uncanny things about Richard and my dad is they both love Strauss, went to Stanford, and are engineers, just to name a few! (And not to be confused with Trevor, who thinks Strauss is okay, but really likes Prokofiev. Oh, and Trevor, erm, didn't go to Stanford, but we'll leave that one alone for today....)

So, I'm actually a little sad that I am missing the historic occasion. I love hanging out at The Cornell House; weather.com says it's a luvalee day in Palo Alto, and with Aidan there, there will be games of Chase as well!

Tho, I also like hanging out at my house, even if it isn't mine, and it's not a house. :-) For one, observe the domestic balance we have come into. We now have Pering knives which are washed with Nelson soap!

Aida -- once a visitor, always a visitor

2008-07-26T10:20:00.000+02:00

Writing posts is very different from actually getting them up on one's blog. This one is from weeks ago -- and interestingly enough, still not finished! But I can just go existential and ask, now really, are we ever *really* finished? Heh

9.luglio 2008
on train, en route to Muenster, Germany

O my heavens, Aida in the Arena of Verona: I've been having so many fun, tasty, memorable experiences, I didn't realize that there was still the potential for the super fun, moltissimo tasty, fantastically memorable experience -- you know, the kind you list in your Top 10 Experiences of any significant travel...

Here we are waiting for Aida to begin. Hey, wait a minute -- are you really in Verona about to see Aida? That looks more like a football stadium -- and Syd is wearing blue! Go Bears!....? No, we really are in The Arena of Verona.

Okayyy, that's more like it!

More of this post to follow -- my notes of personal highlights are on the other computer!

Io prendo due piccioni con una fava

2008-07-25T17:48:00.004+02:00

So naturally, being the gregarious, easy-going Europeans, the Italians, don't "kill two birds with one stone". No, no -- there is even a whiff of seduction in their version of the idiom -- they "lure 2 pigeons with one bean", which really makes ya wonder if whoever came up with that was standing on Venice's St. Mark's square when inspiration struck -- if "inspiration" is what you want to call it (I think others have been known to use the more informative term "bleepity bleep bleep bird poop")...

Anyhow, I too have decided to catch 2 pigeons with one bean (I guess they like fava beans the best?) -- I've been taking a couple online design classes -- 1st one was basically graphic design for the web; now I'm in the 1st week of Introduction to Programming Concepts. Our 1st assignment was to outline a program, so I coordinated it with one of the important missions of living in Italy: choosing your gelato. (Click on the image to get a bigger, hopefully readable version.)

Mind you, it's only called Procuring for oneself The Perfect Gelato for dramatic effect. After a period of adjustment to Italian living, one discovers one can never find the perfect gelato, but you just gotta keep looking. (Sometimes I feel like the same goes for shoes!)

Okay, okay, I repent!

2008-07-24T04:32:00.000+02:00

So I’ve been remiss in keeping up this blog, and I can’t decide if my response is more Catholic – “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned – it has been untold eons since my last blog posting”; or AA –“My name is Beth and I am an errant blogger”....

But what-evvv-errr, I’ve been very busying relishing la dolce vita and I’m not sorry! (and not Catholic either, though I wasn’t completely sure when we toured through St. Mark’s in Venice last week and Ave Maria almost brought tears to my eyes…)

We’ve been back from our 2-week not-quite-fuel-efficient trip for a few days now, and I feel it put us – me definitely – and maybe Trevor a bit too, in a bit of an identity crisis: am I German or Italian? Red wine or white? Mountains or seashore?

Because see – I was pretty sure I was German, but then I got to Germany and was unspeakably annoyed by their incessant precision with everything. And then I thought I was a red-wine leaning kinda girl, except sometimes it is so hot, red wine is just not refreshing like white is. What gives?? Ah, sweet mystery of life, at last I’ve found you….

What I do know, is that even after being gone for 2 weeks, my neighborhood is still freakin' amazing, so here you go!

Another installment in the series:

Our first night back, we were jonesin’ for a good meal without leaving our block – and whaddyaknow, if Trevor wanted to be seriously engineer-ey, this place is so close, we could work out a system of pulleys and get delivery at our balcony with only 3 to 4 patron tables hazarded by the threat of a falling melanzane parmigiana…see the annotated picture below.

This is a place called Cantine Barbaroux. We really like the “main waiter guy” (and yes, that is the technical term) – for one, because Trevor finally got the nerve to try sarcasm on an Italian, and it worked! He was solicitously checking with us that every course was to our liking, and the pasta that night was somethin’ special, so when he came by and asked, Va bene? Trevor frowned like a discriminating gourmand and waved his hands – “cosi, cosi” he remarks, and Giuseppe chuckled with the good nature of a waiter who’s been around and knows the nature of a happy customer…

That night, we were wise in the ways of too much food, and actually just got a full meal for one person and split it – though that doesn’t go for dessert (obviously!), so you can imagine Trevor’s despair when he asked for tiramisu, and they had RUN OUT! Mamma mia, dios mio, et cetera! He actually offered to go back in the kitchen and make it himself, which as many of you know, is not a bad proposition.

Anyhow, Trevor is passionate about tiramisu like I am passionate about anything alluding to caramel or caramelization, so naturally, I had to get the catalana crema, which is why here it looks like Giuseppe is trying to light my dessert on fire -- he really is lighting my dessert on fire!

And so -- another fine meal a Italia. Heavens, with cosi, cosi like that, you can imagine the delight we felt upon arriving home and discovering they had made us "official" with an actual engraved plate at the call box (we figured it was preferable to the yellow electrical tape I had fashioned as the intermediary (apparently the one at our front door gets to stay)...So, whadyathink? I dunno, I guess the gold one looks better...

Deutschland, I hardly knew yee

2008-07-15T11:00:00.000+02:00

So here I am, in the midst of the 2-week-non-fuel-efficient journey I referred to in my previous post. We just finished up almost a week in Germany, where I was constantly trying to keep myself in one language at a time -- I keep having these exchanges that consist of "Bier, sauerkraut, und wienersnitzel, bitte", and "conclude with "grazie" -- or worse -- "grazie" and then "it was delicious"....! Maybe I'll qualify as tri-lingual one of these days...

As our train lumbers southward, I'm sharing a cabin with 4 Italian guys, one of whom has a Kappa jacket, and another one carting some monstrous notebook with the Trenitalia logo all over it. The Kappa logo tells you are hip; the train refernce tells you they are/might be working despite the constant chuckling they share.

I dreamt all week about the litany of thoughts, observations, and resignations I discovered during my week in Germany, and hoped to make note of here -- I find the real challenge is translating said litany into actual words on a web page. This means I have to put down my beer for a minute and stop looking for another new-fangled means of packaging chocolate. It also means I have to stop looking at my new and ever-changing environment to comment on the environment that is already passed. Harumph.

Anyhow, the last city we saw in Germany was Muenchen, where we arrived a couple days ago. There was a good deal of rain, the majority of which fell when I was warm and cozy in a cafe or working in my hotel room. Trevor was not so lucky, but he too came home (aka to the hotel)with observations and resignations, for example:
*Observation: that bright yellow jacket I got for bike riding is not waterproof in any way;
*Resignation: I guess I'll be showing up at my meeting a little wet!

Last night, we took an exploratory walk around the part of town they call the 'Markt', and found another Augustiner Bierhalle for another wunderbahr abendessen of spaetzle, kartoffelkugel, and well, beer, duh...I also got a salad, in the spirit eating light, and I dare say it was bigger than a breadbox!

I find as I assimilate to new cultures and environments, I develop a whole set of new sights and sounds to get used to -- or sometimes, to be annoyed by. One of these is goes like so: I hear a nice melody. Wait! There's ambient sound! Trevor, follow that sound!

In last night's case, they had settled in a portico with fantastic acoustics and a thick, appreciative crowd. This was actually the biggest crowd I'd seen around street musicians yet -- but imagine *my* resignation, when it became apparent they were playing Pachelbel's Canon...will the nightmares of my childhood never leave me????

Just kidding.

It was Pachelbel's Canon accompanied by the Queen of Justice: the bassline got passed off on the accordion player (yeah!), while the remaining violin, cello, and bass players negotiated a virtuosic lyricism with such intensity, I thought the headbangers would show up any minute. (They actually did -- but in Muenster, not Muenich -- so hard to keep up with the Muen-sies!)

After that, it didn't seem untoward to ask the violinist if they would play Zigeunerweisen (they certainly looked like gypsies!), to which he responded, with a twinkling eye, "for a hundred Euro!"...as I went about fishing in my purse, he beckoned for me to come to the "stage" and offerred his hand, supposedly for some reason I would understand if I were a real gypsie (not one of those approximations from Northern California!)

Oh well, at least Trevor had the camera handy -- and they took the Pachelbel aftertaste away with a double-dose of Rossini.

Next stop: Venezia! I'm excited to get back to the land of "bring your own bottle, and we'll fill it with wine"...not to mention artisanal gelato and -- OMG!!! will wonders never cease? -- GOOD ESPRESSO!

Today is the son's birthday...

2008-07-08T18:53:00.001+02:00

8. luglio
a treno en route a Verona per Aida questa sera
10 minutes a vicino di Milan

Yesterday was my birthday,
I hung one more year on the line,
[inconsequential 2 lines...]
but I’m having a good time…

-Paul Simon

Well, I think I got everything I wished for – a nice meal with friends, good wine, a funny birthday card, and a PURSE! Yes, ladies & gentlemen, I hereby advise you Trevor, even though he is a *guy* went *shopping* (voluntarily, I might add), and got me a rockin’, Italian made purse, complete with pizzaz and leather detailing *a viola*. (By the way, did you know viola is not just a big piece of wood and a color, but also a flavor of gelato?)

And wow – for me, the Italians rival the Japanese in terms of purchase presentation – this lovely purse comes complete with its own little sleeping bag (it has to rest *some* of the time --obviously I won’t be able to use it *every* day – what if I want to wear Burgundy? Perwinkle? Mauuuuve? ) which they then place in a substantially sized shopping bag where the store name is written large & elegantly in silver; and there are *three* silk ribbons – i.e. two for handles, and a third for tying the bag shut in an elegant little bow.

Oh – I also got stuff I didn’t wish for, like a phone call from my brother! Some of you probably don’t even *know* I have a brother. (This, a comment which will be mostly/especially/additionally amusing if he ever gets around to reading my blog like he threatened…)

The other moderately cool thing is that, for the 1st time in my life, I got 9 hours of my birthday all to myself….sure, it was cool all these years – the witty, left-wing jokes about the “Two Party system” and “Planned Parenthood”…but I had to draw the line when Garthe (yes, that would be my brother – and the ‘e’ is silent) moved to Japan and suddenly I was not only sharing my birthday with my mom, Satchel Paige, Ringo Starr, Mahler, and that oboist from music camp – but 16 hours of it with my brother as well! Basta! Enough! Ma, c’e non problema – insert small jaunt to Italy, and now, from midnight to 9am Turin time, it is July 6th in California (i.e. not my mom’s birthday), and July 7th in Tokyo (i.e. not Garthe’s birthday)…yay, I win!

And now, for something completely different….

Presently, we are on the train (but getting off soon – yay again!) on our way to Verona, with Syd & Lily. We are going to see Aida at the Arena there, which is oh-so-fitting, considering Aida is a female name in Arabic that means “visitor” and/or “returning” – two identities which during the next 5 months, I am always one or even both!

Then tomorrow, Syd & Lily will head back home to Torino, and Trevor and I will begin our 2 week, not-quite-fuel-efficient, upside-down-T to Münster, Essen, Köln, Aachen, München, Venezia, Trieste, & finally Cinque Terre, before doubling back home…now, it may not be *fuel*-efficient, it is something a little more important --*friend*-efficient – and that’s because Barbara (Trevor’s co-worker, *my* friend :-P ) and her family will be Trieste next week, and Syd & Lily will be in Cinque Terre after that. The careful reader (a.k.a. my mother-dear and my dear ol’ dad) might note that I have already *had* a trip to the Cinque Terre, but 1) that was *last* month, and honestly 2) a place that beautiful merits multiple visits.

I’m sure you’ve had enough of me now, not to mention I have to go review my Ethiopian and Egyptian history. Tune back next time, when I’ll have confirmation on whether they used live elephants at the opera (I guess *that’s* why it’s such an expensive production to put on?) and what it feels like to sit on concrete for 3 to 4 hours (and here I give thanks we’re not going to see Wagner).

Hear Ye: A New Feature at PeacePleaseNow

2008-07-04T01:24:00.000+02:00

I'm going to start a feature on my blog called "My Neighborhood Is Freakin' Awesome". The ways in which this is true are constantly revealing themselves. I think we'll all have to wait until the book deal to read upon them all at once, but here's a few that I've noticed and/or have pictures of so far.

Here's our local cafe. It's called Novecento, which may refer to the movie of the same name,or maybe he's just calling it "20th Century" because that's when he opened the place, who knows! (I will someday.) It's run by our friend Ignacio, who for all intents and purposes, is Trevor's Italian teacher. In the next picture, you can see him teaching hand gestures to Syd and Trevor. Very important, the hand gestures!

Here's one of our neighborhood gelaterias. Sigh, you're all gonna think I'm blase, what with my casual reference to having at least 2 places of business which serve crazy yummy Italian ice cream a due passi from my house. But it's true! This is one of the gelaterias, and there's another one that's even closer. I only included this one, because the picture is actually from Mary, my friend from graduate school with whom I used to shout haiku in the street late at night -- and that way you know TWO people think my neighborhood is cool.

And! In other and/or additional news, Lily and I took the plunge and each got a haircut (several, really) today. With that, I can certify that San Francisco, CA is indeed horrifically expensive -- i.e. even with a terribly weak American dollar, my haircut (which I am, btw, pretty happy with) was cheaper here in Italy than any at any of the salons I've frequented back home. Oh -- and we were in and out in under an hour, including head massage! And, yes, this place too is in my neighborhood. In fact, that picture above is from my kitchen balcony.
Here's my before pic. I was trying to be relaxed and not worry that I'd lose all my hair -- though drinking that sweet, delicioso cappuccino probably doesn't help the nerves too much.
I think the mission turned out well. When she left, Lily didn't seem to have totally warmed up to her cut yet -- though I think hers is especially cute. Check out those cheekbones! Bellissima!

Returning to "der Heimat", kind of

2008-06-27T15:34:00.000+02:00

Mmm mmm, we had a great day at The Lake (and a few other places) yesterday! "The Lake", in this case, means Thuner See, which is close by a quaint town in the Swiss Alps called ***Interlochen***. Mind you, it is actually spelled with a 'k' instead of a 'ch'...but with a handful childhood summers whittled away at the other Interlochen, old habits die hard, and I can't seem to spell it any other way.

Before heading to the lake, we had a snack at a cafe place "in town", as they say. Trevor, Aidan, and I ordered, to share, a sundae with hot chocolate syrup; the hot chocolate came in its very own pitcher. Awesome dude -- finally we have self-determination on the potency of our chocolate syrup!

Small bummer about the lake; I forgot (no really! forgot -- not "accidentally-on-purpose" forgot) my swimsuit, so I was relegated to taking pictures and reading In Style in German. Though, much as we try and fatten up Aidan, there is not a lot of flesh there to keep the little guy warm! So, we also had periodic reprieves to the lawn and played Good Bunny/Bad Bunny Chase -- I got to be Good Bunny! Here's Aidan showing that Bad Bunnies are not to be messed with, and another showing that he is CRAZY strong!

Il treno a Cinque Terre, con Aidan!

2008-06-23T00:15:00.001+02:00

Time: 1540 hours
Place: Train 526, near Alessandria, Italia
Why: en route a Cinque Terre!

Alas, we veterans of the Bay Area’s Caltrain system are in a familiar place today – taking a four hour train ride from Turin, bound for a weekend at the peaceful Cinque Terre, a little gem of the Italian Riviera, not yet ruined by development and tourism. I didn’t really feel the parallel to Caltrain until we were delayed in the station at Alessandria and repeated announcements were coming over the loudspeaker. Each time, the only words I caught were ‘bus’ and ‘1520’, so I thought we were waiting for a busload of people that was delayed, and that we expected to be on our way again at 3:20. Turns out, some of that was possibly right – more so, it seems the delay was due to an unhappy soul who…well, let’s just say this person wasn’t intending to get on the train. So, as one might imagine, there was much need for “municipal police”, and copious report writing, and wow, if I actually smoked, I could have worked my way through a good portion of a carton in the time we were stopped there….

But, I feel it gives me an opportunity to get on my soapbox. In life, I hear of individuals who are in such despair, and whether I’ve ever met them, or those I don’t know from Adam, it puts me into a despair of my own. Not of the sort that I too want to stand in front of a rapidly approaching train; no, it is more despair of the “oh what a terrible job we did communicating to that person 1) the value of human life, and 2) the value of their life” variety…and thus, I hope that if I am in any way connected to an individual who is feeling sadness like this today, maybe a few words of encouragement here can remind certain individuals of the mistake –and the tragedy – of matching temporary problems with permanent solutions.

Lest I seem to be wholly Scandinavian and prone to only talking about that which is depressing, I must highlight the antidote hanging out with Aidan provides. (For background, see the earlier post from June 17th.) It has been so fascinating to watch him grow up (he is the Big Five as of Tuesday), and form his world view… as he colored on the floor the other day, I got him some water and filled the glass too full (and if the glass is *too* full, that’s a – grand-optimist? extra-optimist?), such that I spilled a little as I was kneeling down. As I’m running to get a towel for mopping it up, Aidan is saying in his most comforting tone of voice, “it’s only water -- it’s fine -- it won’t hurt anything – it’s nothing to worry about…” and thus, I get a little reminder of yes, hey put things in perspective once in a while – there’s inconvenience and then there’s actually problems. Water on floor – inconvenience. Impetus to walk in front of train – problem.

In this particular instance, we are having cheese, which is most certainly not a problem -- until we run out of it.

Pizza pasta? Pasta pizza? Oh heck, just gimme some dough!

2008-06-16T15:11:00.000+02:00

On Saturday, we studied Lesson 38 of How to Become an Italian (Author: self; Publisher: pending)

There are more pictures at my album on Photobucket, though this does not yet capture the adventures incurred in studying said lesson. Those will be captured and offerred here at a later date, a date hopefully prior to the day we actually return to the U.S.)

Verdi on iPods? Nope! But “O sole mio”, nightly in Piazza Castello? Si! Certo!

2008-06-12T19:47:00.000+02:00

So I’m walking home Tuesday night when I come upon one of my favorite hangs in Turin, especially at night. It’s one of the covered walkways lining Piazza Castello, which is where we saw the symphony on Republic Day.

Every evening I have walked by this place, there is some hodge-podge group of septuagenarian musicians jammin’ on one of the benches – always some combination of accordion, guitar and voice – and only sometimes (e grazie per questa!) trumpet. And today, it reminds me of one of my cohorts in graduate school, a tenor who mysteriously explained to me that the reason Pavarotti was so great was because he had “The Hook”…which is, from what I could tell, the never-ending vise grip a tenor might hold on a high-C; much to the delight & cries of ‘bravi’ from the audience, be they in velvet seats or on picnic blankets.

Which is funny, because as Italian as we think we are, all cool at Opera in the Park with our BRAVO signs – I never hear anyone say bravo (or brava , or bravi, for that matter) in a musical context – no no! I hear it in line at the post office, at the café, even the times I actually conjugate my verbs correctly -- but at the concert hall?? Non mai!

What I really liked about this particular night was the down-home camaraderie among these musici. As I approached, there were these two guys trading off verses of some Puccini, I think (?) – one would finish his verse, and then just kinda pace around the courtyard area, a relaxed pacing though – and of course, they both had The Hook to which I refer -- I tried to get a picture of it, but I don’t think they’ve designed our digital cameras to record phenomena of the human voice -- even at a 7.2 mega pixel resolution. Schade!

The other curiosity – it made me smile – was watching this guy and his lady friend – they were kind of hanging back from the rest of us, looking a bit as if they were on a date. After the 1st song, I see the gentleman pull out his cell phone, say a few words into it, and then, once the next song began, continue to hold out his phone, as if there were someone on the other end who couldn’t make it to Piazza Castello just that second to hear The Hook for themselves.

Andiamo a mercato!

2008-06-09T21:33:00.000+02:00

As San Franciscans, Trevor and I started to realize we might be spoiled when cheeseburgers were appearing on our menus with a pedigree – “grass-fed beef from the North Bay, topped with organic cheese made from cows, who were milked while listening to Puccini, all between an artisanal quinoa bun and served along side French fries cooked in fair-trade, small-batch, carbon-free olive oil."

I don’t even think I’m exaggerating that much.

And, we are precipitously close to similar spoilage here a Torino. You see, the super cool, usually monthly, market which we went to last week, and could get 9 varieties of fresh pasta, salami cured with Barolo, beautiful olivewood bowls carved from a single piece etc etc, essentially has two additional appearances in June! Yay! The one today seemed to be a kind of “buy your products locally and save tons in carbon emissions” market – each vendor had the distance they’d come on the tip of their tongue – and boy, oh boy, I cannot wait, most of those merchants will also be there on the 24th when Turin not only celebrates the St. John festival, but finally – finally! – we see what Gianduja really looks like! And, OMG twice!! Trevor's nephew will be here – always handy to add in a 5 year old when dealing with yummy yummy chocolate.

Another handy thing about the market is the learning – on the left here you’ll see Signor Marco Crosio, (looks a bit like Gilligan, no?) selling his last 2 magnums of Barolo to Signor I-know-a-good-deal-when-I see-it, both of them plotting for our abject despair. I mean, sure Trevor and I took our time, savoring the 100% Barolo, the mostly-% Barolo with a smidge-% of Cabernet, and the Barbera which is required by the Controllata to be aged at least three years – but who knew our wine guy was going to his magnums to everyone else before noon! As my mailman said, tragico! We had to settle for regular old 750 ml. bottles, the horrors. Let this be a lesson to you, gentle reader – the second you think you like something, you buy! Subito!

The first of many chin chin

2008-06-07T00:53:00.000+02:00

Last night I went for my 1st apertivo, a phenomenon reportedly started in Turin, and saw more “young” people, i.e. people my age, than I have for previous 6 days combined! Now here’s how apertivo works: you buy your drink (my beer – albeit monstrous – was only 7 euro!), and then help yourself to as much food from the buffet as you like.

The variety in cuisine was impressive – generous blocks of cheese, meatballs, carpaccio, and various salad-y dishes – though those, and also the pasta dish came with an ample, possibly excessive, supply of creamy artery-clogging sauces. So you see the rub of the apertivo – the food, while free, might not be the height of cuisine we’ve been acclimating ourselves to at the other taste-bud-wooing establishments of Turin.

But you know what else is great about traveling – the people! And our quartetto (Syd, Lily, Trevor and I) had the fortune to meet up with Alberto and his friend Diego, who provided us many hours of entertainment & education with regard to how to order food to go, what are some good Italian movies to see, and whether Italians typically walk around with Verdi on their iPods (answer on that, so far, is no! My worldview is shattered!).

In addition to a fun, molto giggle-ando evening, I was once again reminded, and comforted even, by how small the world is (in the 6-degrees-of-separation sense). That is, Syd & Lily know Alberto because he is Filippo’s brother, who is a contact Trevor has at Telecom Italia, who lived in Berkeley for a while, and is a co-worker with Roberta who still lives in Berkeley, and who happened to call Diego (who we had only just met) while we were having apertivo.

I mean, just imagine you are sitting at a table of 6 people, and one person’s phone rings and that person casually says, oh! my friend Roberta is calling me from Berkeley! And Trevor says, hey, I know Roberta from Berkeley too!

I’d be lying if I said we all sported looks of surprise -- these kinds of things have happened to me (and I believe, most of you) so many times, any look of surprise is instantly followed by thoughts of, Si, certo! Of course an Italian we met 5,000 miles from here knows the one we met half an hour ago, and is calling right now -- of course!

And before I conclude, an informative note: when here absent pictures, try Lily's blog (there's a link to it on the right side of the webpage) -- we have kind of a tag team coverage going here....sometimes Beth isn't completely on top of keeping her camera battery charged, maybe on account of having been distracted by the dolcissimo aromas wafting in her balcony window...

2008-06-04T16:16:00.000+02:00

Who knew just going to the post office could be so educational!

I was in the line a good hour, and everything seemed to be going swimmingly until these two guys start yelling at each other – one gentleman (??) of the surly, I-don’t-give-a-
damn-about-shaving type; the other a gentleman (again, ??) more of the “I’m well-dressed and suave, and that’s why I have the upper hand in this” type.

I wasn’t paying attention until there was an actual increase in volume, so not sure actually what “we” were arguing about, but from body language and the 10% of the words I caught, I would say Signor Suave-and-well-dressed somehow cut in line, and therefore in front of, Signor I’m-surly-and-unshaven, much to his dismay. Now begins much loud and fast Italian, with a lot of macho “I know that!” and “Well, excuuuuse me!”, and “Fine, yes, fine!” being thrown back and forth.

At first, I had visions of that unthankful American phrase “going postal”, and it’s probability in that moment – but then I noticed one guy in another line with a bemused smile, and a moment later, la donna behind me, who from what I could tell, was saying, “hey dude, we’re all in the same boat here. We all have to wait in line, and who cares if one guy seems to get service before you. It’s one damn guy. We’ll all get our stuff eventually!”

(Not to mention that at that hour, the office was officially closed & the postal employees were working overtime…)

And yes, we all get our stuff eventually – though be advised this does not necessarily mean today. In my case, they claimed I was in the wrong building, and naturally, by the time I arrived at the correct building, l’ufficio was chiuso. I have to go back tomorrow to try again. Same thing with Permesso di Soggiorno. Not the most successful day in terms of dealing with bureaucracy. I guess that’s why I saw this bar on my walk back home…

Viva la Italia

2008-06-03T19:28:00.000+02:00

I confirm that, on occasion, Mother Nature smiles down upon us, as shown here, at Piazza Castello on Republic Day. We are patiently waiting for the symphony to start playing their concert in celebration of said holiday and it’s not raining! Grazie, Madre di Natura! I mean shoot -- I have been in Turin 4 days, and it has rained every day, sometimes a lot! Lucky break for us!

Here’s a girl we were standing near to – she was absolutely fixated on me, and I couldn’t figure out what could possibly be so interesting about a pale Norwegian like me? Maybe it was all that incomprehensible English I kept using. 

Anyhow, the concert was great – Rossini, Puccini, and Verdi are all required material, of course…and given the celebratory nature, what better selection than the theme from the Lone Ranger, a.k.a. William Tell Overture?! Oh…did I mention it starts with a solo for 5 celli?

2008-06-02T23:53:00.000+02:00

p.s. At least we still corner the market on apple pie. T & I stepped into a cafe today and (inadvertently) ordered 2 slices of apple pie...which wasn't so much apple pie as it was heavily preserved apples in a crust completely unlike my grandma's (had I ever had a grandmother that actually made me apple pie...)

Mi chiamo Beth, sono...

2008-06-02T08:14:00.000+02:00

1 guigno
domenica, sera, a casa

So, here’s the thing about being something between a tourist and a resident – there’s a reason some things are tourist attractions, while others are more of a “there’s no accounting for taste” kind of thing…thus, as I sit here and type at my kitchen table, with the balcony door open, I can hear the accordion player down the way (our street is essentially pedestrian only, so no car noise to conflict), and I start to suspect that I have been transported into a re-enactment of the movie Chocolat. I can see the dim lighting of kerosene lamps, and Johnny Depp looking into my chocolate soul and…wait! Sacre bleu! There’s Stephane Grapelli! He’s getting ready to play Autumn Leaves with the accordion player – mamma mia! I confirm I have officially arrived in Italy!

But you see, if I am to present myself as a resident, then I can’t get all melty at having beautiful Italian-ish guys looking at me, and hearing old Stephen Foster tunes at the same time….

I guess this is all to say that 1) it was completely foolish of me to blow my “best dinner ever” comment on my 1st day in New Orleans with zero Italian cuisine to put it up against, and 2) there may be a whooolle lotta posts coming up about food. Maybe even one just about butter. Or oregano. Or, to take the cake (or more accurately, the wallet) – olive oil.

Today was filled to the brim with new and mind-boggling experiences around food….suffice it to say, our house is now well stocked with: fresh ravioli, 2 kinds of mozzarella di bufala, 3 varieties of salami, artisanal honey, unpasteurized milk (fresh from the milk truck of course) and yogurt, olive oil from Liguria, and multiple iterations of chocolate from Lily’s favorite chocolate store, Guido Gobino. Oh duh, and a few bottles of wine.

So there’s what we brought home with us; then there’s a whole ‘nother list of what we consumed for lunch…though, with limited time for writing, I realize that my favorite part of the day, was making our way from lunch down at via Massimo and via Po, all the way up to the outdoor market a few blocks north of our house, a stroll taking only about 4 hours or so! But, especially that, here we are walking toward yet another piazza, when what should we come upon, but a good 75-100 Torinese congregated in what appears to be a church’s parking lot. There’s a small stage set up, and the assembled are a combination of those obviously in some sort of traditional costume, and others obviously of a more spectator-ly nature, but no one seems really to be doing anything. Kids, both costumed and otherwise, have found various steps to sit on, and hmmm…there is this guy outfitted very much like Wolfie and Salieri in Amadeus, but he is just standing around too. So what is my conclusion? This must be a dress rehearsal for tomorrow’s festivities – June 2 is Republic Day!

We waited a few more minutes, and finally Mr. Red Waistcoat Guy took the stage with a few other women, and started going on in Italian. Not much help to us, until when he started singing some songs, the choruses of which were simple enough to teach a crowd. We listened intently, taking on the melody way more easily than the lyrics, while noticing little flyers on lampposts that spoke of different religions and children coming together for peace. It turned out it had nothing to do with Republic Day; more so it was a symposium of sorts, where different religious traditions – Jewish and Christian for sure, but I did not see evidence of Buddah or Allah anywhere – were sharing song, dance, and costume for the appreciation of those from other traditions.

Lily and I were especially impressed by the next “act”. It was 16 youngish guys and girls, representing the Russians (as far as we could tell); they did three dance numbers with fancy footwork and high energy, and loud, breathless shout-outs that reminded us, as the old women we are , that mid-30’s is soooo not late teens/early 20s. They wore very simple but lovely costumes – white skirts, blouses and shirts with curvy black embroidery, and each of the girls had their own distinct beauty, based on some variance of skin tone and facial structure.

And so on and so forth. Eventually we got to the market, took the goods home for snacks and later, dinner. We marveled repeatedly at the truly dolce vita we have come upon, sometimes in such awe, that it seems more effective to feign breathlessly, “Oh! Life is so hard...!” than to attempt to describe just what made this meal or that event so special, delicious, impressive, or otherwise mind-boggling.

And yay! We’ll get up and do it all again tomorrow.

The (new) comforts of home

2008-06-01T20:00:00.000+02:00

So we've got our Trevor now, and are ready to embark on the adventure known as Mamma-mia!-Turin-has-800-restaurants and how-are-we-to-get-to-every-one-by-November-7th?!?!?

Man, I get full just thinking about it.

But food is just one of the comforts of home. Must know where to get haircut and worship patron saint of solid chocolate as well. See below!

Benvenuto a Torino!

2008-05-31T08:57:00.000+02:00

So it occurred to me at some point that my faithful readers may have thought me geographically challenged, or really confused -- what with sending out a note that I'm going to Italy, and then logging posts from and about New Orleans...well, may the confusion abate...I have arrived at my destination! Today was my 1st full day in Turin, and Syd and Lily took me around a good chunk of town, pointing out the trattoria worth our time and the statues for which they had learned significance. Oh, and we met with a guy (Signor Tutucci, actually Syd & Lily's landlord, but also an employee at the rental agency) who gave me the keys to our rockin' apartment.

Adesso,(common transitional word I heard only 50-100 times today...) if you'll allow me, I'll take you too(!) on a little tour using my knowledge of Turin & Italy thus far....

Bye, bye Trevor! Well, actually, first, it was 'bye, bye train!' (we missed it by about 20 feet). Later, it was 'bye, bye Trevor' as we embarked separate trains in Rome, I to Turin, and he back to his conference in Naples.

Bellissimo! I have made it to Turin! Here we are, starting our day meeting Signor Tutucci at my new home. That there, above and to the left of Syd's head, is one of our THREE balconies. And that one is off the bathroom!

Now (adesso) I can't show you any more pictures of our home, because Trevor, so so far away, would supposedly die from jealousy. (Partly because he is not yet here -- & partly because we've also been taunting him all day with texts about the wonderful food and drink we've been having.

It's olive oil wrapped in gold! It must be good!

Mmm, mmm, mmm, wouldja look at that bicherin!I bet Lily's gonna have a mustache when she puts her cup down...

Sated for a while, we went a'walkin'. Here's the original wall to the city...

But already I am lost! Luckily Cesare Agosto is there to point the way.

Oops. He was only pointing out the lingerie shop whose name is a palindrome.

Cesare Agosto, where are you when I need you !? Or rather, where is my house when I need it?!? (See below; I remembered the banner in Cal colors, but once I turned a few corners, I realized the city had *many* banners in Cal colors...

Adesso...today's Picture Tour is 'to be continued'. i.e. After I finally found my house again, I was ravenous (Ho molto fame!), and once again pictures were forgotten in favor of food. Mmmm, fresh pasta....

Thunder & lightning -- ma non troppo

2008-05-26T18:08:00.000+02:00

So I was just reviewing the last few posts, not wanting to start every post with either yesterday or last night, when I realized the need for follow-up…after much searching for that possibly mythical Happy Place, I found it! Or at least one very good interpretation, and that is -- a wedding in New Orleans on Memorial Day Weekend.

To start, we had to kill some time. Can’t get married too early, or the sun will still be beating down upon one’s already red-hued shoulders. So what better way to amuse ourselves than to ponder thunder and lightning with various queries -- is that storm getting closer? How many raindrops can those regal oaks keep out? How can we move 100 feet of already “littered” orange and yellow rose petals into the clubhouse?

Of course, unless the bride is an absolute Bridezilla (which Ashleigh was sooo not), there’s going to be opinions flying every which way -- yes, we should move inside; no we should stay outside – and once having moved inside, all the same questions in reversed order!

In the end, we remained outside, and had passed the perfect amount of time, such that, as we heard “We present to you, Mr. Lamar and Mrs. Ashleigh Gardere!!” accompanied by Mendelssohn, the faces of the joyful couple glowed. It was just like the Alpenglow on Half Dome in Yosemite.

Following this was a party whose very rhythm and aesthetic was captivating, and very much unlike what either Trevor or I are used to. First, a buffet with cheesy grits and preponderance of gumbo. Then, with new sustenance – to the dance floor! That’s right, everyone! We’re doing the Electric Slide – to the left, to the right, come on, Grandma!

This was my 2^nd favorite part of the wedding. Yes, I do believe every single person in attendance, was at some point up on the dance floor. And they are grooouving (yes, with a ‘u’, kind of like ‘beacoooooup’!) Curving this way and that…commanding the space they need for their individual self-expression. And, if under 5, add a good bit of screaming to indicate enjoyment.

Periodically, they’ll form circles, or a line flanked on both sides, inside of which people could take turns doing a “verse”...I like the circle, because there is no implied order that would put one on display. But the line version – watch out! If the starting end forms near you, you may find yourself strutting and grooving down the line, to the accompaniment of hoots and flashing cameras, and possibly a face as red as the sunburn you exhibit.

All told, a dynamic evening, which left us danced out and ready for bed. Some of the candles outside were still burning – looking very much like I felt. We stopped to take a few pictures there, when hootin’ and hollerin’ erupts out of the clubhouse, on a level which we had not seen all night…gotcha! we see we can’t go home just yet, must see cause for hootin’ and hollerin’.

Aha! The Second Line is here! And we come back in, to find Ashleigh and Lamar each dancing under an absolutely fabulous parasol (not sure you call it that for Lamar? murse 2.0?) and buoyed by a brass band. An impressively loud brass band, infusing us all with new life so we could dance a few more songs. At some point (we don’t know how they all know this) it’s like they all know it’s time to move outside. There’s an old car there, the likes of which my Uncle Junie is crazy about, and we are handed little envelopes filled with lavender to shower upon them, as we form one last “struttin’ aisle”, all the while they twirl their par-umb-murse-ella, a-huggin’ and a-kissin’, and soaking up our love and well-wishes, until the momentum almost drops them into the car which putt-putts away into eternity.

Congratulations, Ashleigh & Lamar! Laissez le bon temps roulez!

Entranced by food, sauteed by humidity

2008-05-24T20:24:00.000+02:00

Date: Samedi, 24 Mai
Time: sleepy late morning
Locale: New Orleans, LA
Lodging: St. Vincent’s Guesthouse
Weather: muggy, abets delusions of streetcar dings and a guy in a wife beater

So, last night…..I had, hands down, the best meal of my life. We went to Commander’s Palace, a fabulous, apparently Creole, restaurant in the Garden District. (I was noticing at breakfast, that since arriving here yesterday, every menu I’ve seen refers to both “Cajun” and “Creole” cuisine – and much as most of us wouldn’t really think of “Country” without “Western”, I look at “Cajun” and “Creole” and similarly conclude I have no clue of the distinction between the two. Luckily, I have til next Wednesday to figure that out.)

…..doh! We interrupt this programming to actually go out and see the town. Apparently I need to write these missives a little faster in order not to be left behind by the big guy. Stay tuned…

Houston, we have a problem

2008-05-23T12:00:00.000+02:00

Today was a textbook lesson in setting expectations – I had an extraordinarily hard time getting through security, such that they actually made me do the whole thing twice! And why would that be, you ask?? Because I had a water bottle, and – gasp – it had water in it!

These trials of which I speak aren’t anything new in the airline industry; it’s just that since I’m not a terrorist, I can’t understand why I couldn’t say, hey, sorry, I was just, you know, trying to stay hydrated, drink my dam (heh) water right there, and proceed to the gate with my newly-confirmed bomb/toiletries/hydration-free luggage.

Suffice it to say, there was further negotiation, incredulity, and outright frustration (all on my part; Trevor is cool as a cucumber) but eventually we got ourselves to gate 75, where, as boarding time approached, it became ever more clear that we did not have an actual plane for our actual journey!

It should come as small surprise then, that by the time we actually got to LAX, we had United’s automated service calling our cell phones (and we are still on the plane from SF!) to notify us that we’ve been bumped from our 6pm flight and would be re-scheduled for 6am and re-routed through Denver. Whoo boy...

But there’s the happy ending to the story: we decided not to believe the recorded voice leaving us dastardly messages on our cell phones. We went to the gate anyway. Ms. Smiley Flight Attendant cheerily says “New Orleans?” – we say yes, a bit cautiously, and she waves us through! We made it! Yea! No 6 a.m. non-direct flight to New Orleans!

Just kidding. Let me toy with your patience some more:

12:06 a.m.

United Flight 119, seat 19C

We are in a holding pattern over New Orleans, victims of a thunderstorm moving east at a brisk (not!) 18 miles per hour. With the storm moving that slowly, we may be forced to divert back to Houston. I cannot begin to express how much that is not New Orleans nor Turin, Italy.

You’ll have to excuse me. I must go in search of that Happy Place I keep hearing about...

Adventures in genetics. Thanks Mom!

2008-05-22T10:20:00.000+02:00

Oh my heavens, what are we going to do with me?! Maybe you can see in the picture that I am, um, not yet completely packed. It is now May 22nd -- and those bleepity bleep bleep bleep reminders on my CrackBerry calendar have kindly (?) reminded me that I am leaving for New Orleans today. As if!

It's interesting --you know, what we take from our parents -- isn't it?? For instance, in the Nelson family, the slogan (trademark pending) is "we're leaving when we're supposed to be there", and for me, this seems to include packing. On the other hand, in the Pering family, so far as I can tell, things happen on time and people get packed before the wee hours of the morning...!

All I can think to say is oy vey, and that's not the right language or dialect. [Insert additional bleepity bleep bleep bleeps here]. Oh...and I better get to bed, lest it become time to leave for the airport and I find myself not having slept. Mmmmm....jetlag.....just imagine how much more lucid these posts will become as I make my way eastward.

A piu tarde!

For some reason, the publishers still haven't called

2008-04-03T04:46:00.000+02:00

Trevor is in China this week, so
I am taking my 1st crack at the/my Great American Novel:

What?? You can't read what it says? It doesn't make any sense? Hey, we're talking beginner here!

Electric is right -- but 110V or 220?

2008-03-23T07:37:00.000+01:00

Hot damn, I am one lucky girl. The adorable, Beethoven-haired, Gustavo Dudamel was in SF this week to conduct Rach One and the 1910 version of the Firebird. I could go on for quite a while about this guy....but if I don't get to bed soon, Christ is going to be risen before I am set...heck, Israel has to be a good 7-8 hours ahead of us, no? It may already be too late! Alas, maybe *that's* what my mom was talking about when she said you never want to hear "brother, it's toooo late!"

Anyhow, what I am marveling at for the moment is the intensity of this guy. You know how the Firebird ends? (If you don't, you need to go listen to it RIGHT NOW. Go ahead, I'll wait.) Even Trevor agrees those are some freekin' cool chords they've got going at the end...it's one of those moments when I especially want to declare my undying love for all brass players (why didn't I get a TRUMPET for my 5th birthday??).

But hey, I was there to watch Gus (I have no idea if that's what his friends call him; seems unlikely though...). So there's the end of the Firebird, and as they talked about in his 60 Minutes interview, he asks for blood, he gets blood...and I think I know how -- just watch his hands. It seriously looks like he decided to take on Kashchei himself. Yes, to the mere mortal, that may look like a conductor's baton, but look closer -- that's a samurai sword! Our dude Gus is going to slay Deathless Kashchei with strength surpassing all musicians I have known.

It doesn't seem like that quite gets across what was so incredible about this particular moment. Maybe a picture will help.
Yeah, that's better. G'night.

Dual purpose post

2008-02-11T22:08:00.000+01:00

Wow, it's Monday. Some of you have already gotten my Valentine/Holiday postcard, and I have written precious little here. And it ain't gonna change right now. I'm just trying to get this picture on the web so they can link to it at the Expats in Italy website! Molto bene!

You know, I spent most of this morning researching stuff for Italy, and the God Creates Adam portion from the "Capella Sistina" is everywhere! I suspect that is going to be a strong element of my culture shock -- not so much that they are citing Michelangelo everywhere, but that what they do cite is so OLLLLD.

Now *that's* eloquent, no? "Beth, look at this intricate church steeped in history, and human experience, and bombing..." "It looks old." (Just trying to work in my 10 principles of effective web design -- #5: No diarrhea of the mouth, keyboard, or any other apparatus that can spew forth large amounts of WORDS."

Stay tuned for more after these messages.

We now return to our regularly scheduled programming...or something like that

2008-01-31T23:46:00.000+01:00

You know, it's funny. The casual observer will note that the post previous to this was more than a year ago -- one in which I cited fatigue and being overworked. Now, I know they say be careful what you wish for, but I didn't realize the statute of limitations could last more than a year!

Which is to say, today, I was laid off.

I know full well there are situations in which is this is sad, difficult, even devastating to some individuals. And maybe I will experience that at some point?

But for the time being, I am pretty darn happy to have tomorrow to sleep in, Saturday to clean the house and Sunday to chart out my next adventure(s).

Until then, watch out for windmills!

Bumper stickers: A tired and overworked girl's response to blogging

2007-01-05T18:33:00.000+01:00

I think I'm getting old or something. Getting up in the morning is becoming rrreally hard. Anyhow, here is day 5 of James-Bond-Year, and I've written no blog yet. So you get bumper stickers.

I love how "diplomatic" they are..."Here! Have my civil liberties. Yeah, my mom taught me to share...you can play with them as long as I get them back.....?"

1) (On an infant's shirt): Already smarter than
Bush
>2) 1/20/09: End of an Error
>3) That's OK, I Wasn't Using My Civil Liberties
Anyway
>4) Let's Fix Democracy in This Country First
>5) If You Want a Nation Ruled By Religion, Move
to Iran
>6) Bush. Like a Rock. Only Dumber.
>7) You Can't Be Pro-War And Pro-Life At The Same
Time
>8) If You Can Read This, You're Not Our
President
>9) Of Course It Hurts: You're Getting Screwed by
an Elephant
>10) Hey, Bush Supporters: Embarrassed Yet?
>11) George Bush: Creating the Terrorists Our
Kids Will Have to Fight
>12) impeachment: It's Not Just for Blowjobs
Anymore
>13) Give Bush a Blowjob So We Can Impeach Him,
Too
>14) America : One Nation, Under Surveillance
>15) They Call Him "W" So He Can Spell It
>16) Which God Do You Kill For?
>17) Cheney/Satan '08
>18) Jail to the Chief
>19) Who Would Jesus Torture?
>20) No, Seriously, Why Did We Invade
>21) Bush: God's Way of Proving Intelligent
Design is Full Of Crap
>22) So Many Christians, So Few Lions
>23) Bad president! No Banana.
>24) We Need a President Who's Fluent In At Least
One Language
>25) We're Making Enemies Faster Than We Can Kill
Them
>26) Buck Fush
>27) Rich Man's War, Poor Man's Blood
>28) Is It Vietnam Yet?
>29) Bush Doesn't Care About White People, Either
>30) Where Are We Going? And Why Are We In This
Handbasket?
>31) You Elected Him. You Deserve Him.
>32) Frodo Failed. Bush Has the Ring.
>33) Impeach Cheney First
>34) Dubya, Your Dad Shoulda Pulled Out, Too
>35) When Bush Took Office, Gas Was $1.46
>36) The Republican Party: Our Bridge to the 11th
Century

Frost-ee the snow-mound...

2006-12-29T01:36:00.000+01:00

Today we finally got Aidan* a good dose of snow—how cold it is, how you can make a snowman (in more powdery times called a Snow-mound), and how the cold, once settled in, takes a while to root itself back out of your body. Alas, we had an hour drive home, and I do believe he claimed his feet to be cold the entire time. Poor Aidan. Luckily, once we were home, Uncle Trevor took a 2nd crack at building a fire in the magnificent stone fireplace and cold feet no more!

Hanging out with Aidan is really awesome. He invites you to get excited with him, about the fire, about the sliding properties of the hard wood floor—this summer, we spent a good 15 minutes pointing out groups of three candles all over his backyard. I went around for the next week, whenever I was feeling happy, I would hear a little voice in my head, “THREE CANDLES! THREE CANDLES!” Honestly, they’re like, everywhere, those three candles.

Part of what is so amazing about Aidan is how much he’s grown over the past few months. He’s become really observant (“Trevor, be careful of the fire!”, “Gravity is round!”), articulate even. And on this trip, I’ve heard him say thank you for everything. And what was positively mystifying was how I was not in attendance at the sledding expedition, and then somehow reappeared in the car on the way home. (I tried to tell him I flew in; he didn’t buy it. I tried to tell him it was magic, no go. Plain ol’ “I opened the door, sat down, and put on my seat belt”, seemed to be the most effective. Ah me, the honesty.

Now we are in the quiet time, where Aidan is at his bath, Richard & Cathlene have gone to bed, and Trevor has stolen my book club book. What am I to do, but write a blog, you see! OK, and I guess maybe look for a job too. Maybe more on that in the next issue. Ciao for niao!

*For the uninformed, Aidan is Trevor’s nephew, #1 son, as it were, of Trevor’s sister Celine. He is 3 1/2 and a big boy. We know this because he has big boy pants, and he crushes Trevor. (At 3 1/2, this is not so much “crush” as it is a light weight encumbering one’s limbs, but still, for all intents & purposes a big boy.)

What do you see when you're falling down the rabbit hole?

2006-10-02T01:22:00.000+02:00

So I've started a really intense program of therapy called The Process,
which deals with the extensive programming we get in childhood. It has been two weeks since I started, and I have 44 pages of my own writing. 44 pages! Just think of all the stuff I can post on my blog--almost a book! And good stuff--about my mom...and my dad...and my brother...mm-hm. Good times!

And then I remembered three things:

Sometimes my mom reads my blog.

David Sedaris wrote all kinds of crazy shit about his mom.

When Alice is falling down the rabbit hole in Alice and Wonderland, she can't see shit either.

So I guess that's where I am now--sure, I have all kinds of stuff I could put up here, except I've just started This Process. I have a seemingly endless supply of incidents that I am mad at my parents for, or have carried with me unresolved for years--but I don't really know what to do with it all. It's like I'm falling into the Wonderland, except right now, it's just dirt and poor visibility.

Ah me, the irony. Sure, I know it's a wise person that knows a lot and says they don't know anything. But I can say that too: I know a lot and I don't know anything. Then I'm wise, right??

Whatever.

I shall go soon, but one last thing before departure:

I SAW CRAIG "CRAIGSLIST" NEWMARK IN COLE VALLEY TODAY!

For the residents of Cole Valley and the regulars in their cafes, especially Reverie, I'm sure this is nothing exciting anymore, but whoo boy, for a South Beach girl, this is somethin' else. All we got here is pitchers and batters and Barry. And they're not lookin' like much.

Did I get his autograph, you ask? Did I tell him how much I admire his work? Oh no, I just stood there, waiting for my mocha, and examining him repeatedly to make sure it was him.
I can only take so much excitement after all. There's seeing him--and then there's talking to him. I mean whoa, get a hold of yourself!

I guess this means I'm going back to Reverie sometime soon. Wait, there's my train!

P.S. Next time: tricking computers into doing what you want.

Ay me, real life is getting in the way of my perfect life!

2006-09-23T01:06:00.000+02:00

Of all coggie-goes-on-indie, summer is over. Like really over. I smelled it when we were in Truckee a couple weeks ago, and I thought, "I remember this smell from traipsing around my neighborhood in a witches' costume. I think I smell Fall! That, or Hallowe'en..." Mind you, I did end up with a quarter pound of fudge in my purse in Truckee, but I'd say that is more of a trick than a treat. Look at my gut!

Like one of those rich people, who has more money than they know what to do with, I have spent the last several months in I-don't-know land. Am I really a bleeding heart liberal? Do I really want to work my tail off for less than "market" rate? Where's the writing, the creativity, gonna fit in?

Well shoot, if you're reading this, you probably already know I'm doing The Process. We are still in the 1st week, but I last night, I got up in front of my classmates and blubbered and sobbed, and gave myself lashes for being late and not fed, and I got to see how ugly it is. Not that someone would be late and unfed, but that someone would think that was really worth getting so upset about.

So, I was in my individual session with Emma*, and I was talking about this looking for a job struggle, and how Barry said I was funny and I should try scriptwriting. And my immediate thought was, how the hell am I gonna get the connections to get a job on SNL? No, maybe I'll write for a few ill-fated pilots, then a moderately funny sit-com, and 15 years later... maybe SNL. Which brought me back to square one. I have to work stupid-ass jobs through a temp agency for the rest of my life. Yikes.

Here's hoping that's wrong!!

Suffice it to say, there's gonna be a lot of writing for my class called The Process, so unless it feels right, methinks there will be not much up here for the next couple months. We'll see. The words have to fall somewhere!

*It's not just therapists changing the name of their clients.

I'm a new anchor too...of IMB news!

2006-09-06T08:05:00.000+02:00

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, here at IMB (In My Bed), we are starting a new feature: nightly news from an up-and-coming temporary worker!

Yes, this scintillating and brilliant starlet will wow us with her tales of sailors, real estate agents, and filmmakers. THESE are the people that call for temp assignments. The sailors want to be weighed, the real estate agents want their commission, and the filmmakers just want to make some money dammit. And we're NOT talking real estate commission kinda money!

My latest assignment started today, and looks to be just 2 or 3 days long, which is good, because as Dave Eggers intimates, anything past 3 days puts one in danger of becoming irreversibly bored.

What it is, is getting out the 2007 international catalog for a makeup company called Bare Escentuals. I was telling Trevor and my friend Suzanne that I had never felt so naked walking into work. Not only do I never wear makeup, I don't know *how* to wear makeup! I should just hire Adrienne to come over and do my makeup before work. Maybe then someone could actually dry the back of my hair without my arm falling off too!

This is the end of the IMB News. Just a short broadcast tonight, to show that I am still alive, still a temp (just that make me a perm temp? when does one become a perm temp anyway?)

Well, blah blah blah. That's gonna be my signoff. Not very Walter Cronkite, but hell, who is??

The Guvernator is working in my office

2006-08-14T19:59:00.000+02:00

So I'm on my 2nd week helping out at *onthefly films. It's fun to be in a creative environment again. Hmmm, again...I wonder when I was in a creative environment before...

Anyhow, it is undoubtedly what is keeping me up at all hours of the night, though the subject line was written when "I couldn't take it anymore!!" this morning, and had to tell someone how sure I was that our governor was in the cubicle behind me. You see, this baby of a company, *onthefly films, shares their office space with an older sibling of a company, Actual films (note capital 'A'). And there is this guy--I don't know if he's important, but he sure acts like he's important. And not only that, but by virtue of having an Austrian for a governor, I am sure as the day is long that he too is Austrian. Same vowel elongations; nooothing like the Germans! I am actually pretty disturbed that I know someone is Austrian based on who my governor is.

That sounds bad. I'm not meaning to discriminate. (Read Blink by Malcolm Gladwell--he talks about how we are all working really hard not to be bigots and s***, but we're pretty conditioned toward it anyway...) I am more objecting to the idea that an actor from Hollywood can come in, call my union brothers and sisters "sissies", and then think he can run for re-election.

Hmmm, at this point, I believe the insomnia runs out. Stay tuned for further updates.

p.s. Let it be known that, while the time of posting indicated may sound reasonable....it was not.

Playing it straight on Lombard Street

2006-07-24T21:46:00.000+02:00

So, ohboyohboy, today I am again at a venture capital firm on Lombard Street answering phones and trying desperately not to die from boredom. The pay is pretty meager, and what do you expect if the majority of your responsibilities are done by 10 a.m.?

There's the silver linings though--

-Lunch brought in from Il Fornaio, including salmon, roasted chicken pasta salad, and other yums...
-Faxes from Phil Angelides for various partners, leading one to believe we may have some Democrats in the building...
-A weekly grocery delivery from Whole Foods! Tofutti pops anyone?

Jobberwockies

2006-07-12T23:03:00.000+02:00

The thing about not having a job is that you resent the people who not only have jobs, but do them poorly!

More after these messages...

The ever more ambitious gigs of Johanna Volkert-Nelson

2006-07-05T02:59:00.000+02:00

Ever since Jon and Jennie's wedding in--well, eons ago, I've been telling people one of the coolest gigs I ever did was their wedding; it was a trumpet-trombone-saxophone- euphonium-cello quintet, and I tell you, Pachelbel Canon was never so beautiful, nor just. You see, some kind arranger had the foresight to give the cello the melody! After all these years, the melody, finally!

Then comes today, the blessed 4th of July. Yay America! Yay flag burning! Yay for the SAUSALITO FOURTH OF JULY PARADE!

I'm slowly learning that dating Trevor means learning lots of songs with California (or Bears) in the title, drinking beer for breakfast, and marching--for sure with an instrument, and if at all possible, a beer. (For future reference, the trombone seems well suited to such requirements--check out the tubing; a plastic pint glass fits in perfectly!)

Armed with this knowledge, I was forced to act. Gaining a working knowledge of trombone would be impossible in the time allotted. Woody Allen taught us that marching cello is funny, but who carries the chair? The only option left was the violin.

And so: My dear parents. My college professors. My youth orchestra colleagues, I thank you. Who knew, all this time, I was working up to marching violin in the Sausalito 4th of July parade.

Go Bears!

With the arms of babes

2006-06-30T00:38:00.000+02:00

It seems Uncle Trevor is the funnest, even if he isn't your uncle!

Homeward bound

2006-06-22T13:17:00.000+02:00

Oh Sverige, I hardly knew yee.
Thine reindeer fillet and humanskost meals warms my belly,
As Norrland and corner kicks warm my heart.

Mein Norge speaks volumes with her vaulted rocks and ubiquitous waterfalls. Misty bike rides along the archipelago give a little tone to those Nelson thighs.

But Iceland, Iceland! A layover where we load up on tax-free dark chocolate Kit Kat bars and other candy Willy Wonka would approve of.

With sore feet and full memory card, we return to our homeland, blissfully ignorant of whatever our country has done to embarrass us for the past three weeks.

It is thus my conclusion that 19 days is the perfect length for a Scandinavian sojourn. Three years however, is far from perfect for a costly and unwanted American occupation. It can't much help to know the atrocities that have occurred during this idyllic time. I just hope that the next time I go on vacation, we might be spreading actual happiness in the world. Oil sure doesn't make me any happy.

Hej då!

The Rude Street

2006-06-22T01:02:00.000+02:00

Just a short note to tell you of the rudest street in Stockholm. It's Vaserlagatan. Don't ask for paper to wrap your nice little picture. You're a tourist! It's a postcard! He doesn't make any money on those things!

The civil version of football

2006-06-21T00:50:00.000+02:00

0045 hours
Uppsala, Sweden

I dunno, maybe it's the bright yellow jersey, but again I can't sleep. Maybe it was the nail-biting 2-2 tie between England and Sweden tonight. Mayyyybe it was that amaaaazingly strong cup of coffee at the modern art museum. Did you ever hear of such a thing: they have small, medium, and large coffee, but it just refers to the size of French press they give you?! Holey moley, that's called death by strong coffee.

Anyhow, as my friend Michael says, especially in Sweden, when you're watching soccer in a bar, everybody's your friend, and sure enough, in the waning minutes where our Svenskes pulled through, a woman did in fact grab my arm with unbridled affection and relief.

Traveling has always been an interesting exercise in music, that is, how it plays into train announcements, cell phone rings, commercials...so it is no surprise that tonight I realized that "She'll be comin' 'round the mountain when she comes", and "If you're happy and you know it, are much the same song". And wouldn't you know it that those Brits came out at the beginning of the game and sang "My country tis of thee"?!? (Okay, kidding, I already knew about that one.)

Anyhow, yes, pub game watching is replete with "If you're happy and you know it", only as a gesture of team animosity:

"If you hate Sheff United clap your hands“clap clap”if you hate Sheff United clap your hands“clap clap”If you hate Sheff UnitedHate Sheff UnitedHate Sheff United clap your hands“clap clap clap clap etc.”

That's what Google said they were singing, only we're pretty sure "Sheff United" was replaced by "Team Sweden" or something similar.

The saving grace is that Trevor and I watched the game with Roy, a loyal Englishman, and the best outcome for Roy and I to continue to talk to each other is a tie. Only thing now, is the Sweden -Germany game is on Saturday at 8 am. Besides that being the weekend, it is a mere two hours in advance of Syd and Lily's wedding. I guess I'll have to install a TV in my shower too!

Friends: a blast from the past

2006-06-20T09:43:00.000+02:00

0042 hours
Uppsala, Sweden

What an interesting couple of days! After Saturday' s splendor of a day spent in Oslo, we moseyed our way back to Uppsala by way of Karlskoga and Stockholm. And I do mean mosey! Our train ride turned into a series of trains and bus, and just before our station, for some reason, the train was forced to meander along at the pace of Quasi Modo with a heavy backpack. (This is now the pace at which I move, stupidly having bought wine, Norway's heaviest souvenir. Suffice it to say there will be merriment in *somebody's* future!) Also suffice to say, our long awaited arrival was late!

Anyhow, our 1st arrival was in Karlskoga, where my college (that's college the 1st time...in the 90s!) friend Michael is currently living with his wife Mia. (In a dramatic display of irony, having stuck out the bleak pre-, mid-, and post-Winter, Mia recently got a job in Gothenberg, and now that the weather is nice, another relocation seems to be in order for Michael and Mia. Is God laughing?)

It's a constant source of amusement to see how your friends do and do not change...Michael still has a neverending fountain of knowledge and reveres his professors, and he has the same hand gestures and pique of they eyebrows...but I suppose a videotape of Beth might produce the same observations about myself.

One's definition of good weather is all relative to the average expectancy for a given climate. So considering that snow is Karlskoga is a pretty recent memory, we had to seize the opportunity to barbeque outside in non-snowy, less-than-frigid temperatures. Never mind that the rather convincing winds forced us to keep potato salad constantly on our bowls and beer constantly in our cups. All vitally necessary components for the ultra enjoyable Scandinavian game of Kubb: a series of knocking down the other teams blocks until the end when both teams attempt assassination of the king, the winner determined by the 1st to depose. Those in attendance at the next birthday party may be corralled into a round of said knocking down and assassination.

After a nice breakfast with Michael and Mia (cheese and marmalade on bread, yum! I guess in the right circumstances, marmalade CAN be good!), we ambled our way back to Stockholm to meet up with Trevor's friend Malin. Another old friend from a long time ago!

She took us to a cafe called "Vate Kätten", which translates as "Wheat Kitty", and which Trevor raved about from the last time he was in Stockholm. So while Malin was embarrassed to be taking Trevor to the same place twice, Trevor and I were totally psyched to be at the Wheat Kitty again. I don't know where the wheat is, because Malin and I had chocolate and Trevor had...um....sugar. But the place was cute and had lots of little alcoves and rasberry mineral water to boot.

Herres Gött, so much to tell!

After Malin had to go home and tend to her Kinder, we happened by a cafe playing jazz. That was one of those serendipitous findings, a little sound of home floating out the big open windows, with Gen-X looking kids scattered among a variance of couches. There were a handful of tunes with just good rhythm and sweet solos (I especially liked the guitar player...who looks like our friend Phillip!), then all of a sudden we are listening to Superman and Route 66. Honestly, I have heard more American pop music in the last 2 weeks than in the rest of of 2006. A little Madonna here, a little Spiderman there, and God help us, Rod Stewart is one of the top-selling albums this week.

As if to anticipate the imminent discomfort of Stockholm to SF jetlag, here I am wide awake at 1:30 in the morning. No Gamla Stan is open at this hour, so better get to sleep. Ciao!

Silent scream and a Munch

2006-06-17T17:03:00.000+02:00

1706 hours
Oslo, Norway

After almost a week in the backcountry and less populated areas of Norway, we descend upon Oslo. There are people of all nationalities and races speaking Norwegian here, and the sun is out, no more need for raincoats, yay!

Having arrived on the night train at 6:30 this morning, it's seems we also got the earliest start to the day of anyone in town. Step 1 was a search for food and coffee. With emotions bittersweet, I report to you, I have seen neither Peet's nor Starbucks for 2 weeks. There *is* no chance of getting coffee at 6:30 in the morning. (Ok fine, there is...but I believe the technical term is "swill".) No matter, we found the hotel buffet for the Scandic hotel, ate waffles with gjetost-oh-my-god-yum, and moreover, watched a guy get arrested who needed about 6 policemen to hold him down.

Still being for lack of coffee, we snail-paced our way to the National Gallery, where they have The (?) Scream...or at least, a picture that looks very much like The Scream and is signed by Edvard Munch. As you might imagine, it is very quiet. Wow!

Then to Cafe con Bar, which not only appears to be both cafe and bar...but is elaborated by menas of giant fist rising out of the sidewalk. It must have happened recently, this rising fist, because the bricks are all askew, and the rose it is holding still has all the petals. Never mind that the whole thing is silver and bigger than a breadbox. In fact, it is even bigger than Trevor.
(Wouldn't this be a good time to be able to add pictures to my blog? Yes, yes?? "Dear Birthday Fairy....")

The munch that we ate was also delish. Trevor had a lovely penne pasta with scallops, shrimp and a nicely disguished white wine lemon sauce. I, on the other hand, had "Funny Tuna", which explains a lot, doesn't it?

Anyhow, the National Gallery was excellent, not just for the Munch room, but also for the Picasso room, and the Art Deco-y room (did you know there were *girl* Norwegian painters?? Google "Rustning, Armour" by Ragnhild Keyser. Very cool. Apparently the girl painters felt pressure to tone down their work so the rest of the art world would accept it.)

That was 1926 though. Luckily, it is now June of 2006, and tonight we're gonna party like it's 1999...plus a few. Ciao!

Feee-yords

2006-06-16T17:32:00.000+02:00

1730 hours
Voss, Norway

Here we near the end of a lovely day in the national treasure of Norwegian fjords. A fjord excursion is a large undertaking, what with the 5 hours of bus and train involved to get the two hours of ferry ride. I personally consider it to be worth it.

Specifically, we were in the Hardangerfjord, where here and there are small communities seemingly unreachable except by ferry, or wine barrel over one of many waterfalls. Now, there are waterfalls everywhere. The whole ride was a series of private residents that have a 2 to 400 meter waterfall *in their backyard*, but I didn't see any wine barrels, so I can only assume that some of them take the ferries, others have developed some roads, and the rest have never seen the need to leave their idyllic waterfront property.

Tonight! Finally! We are going to have reindeer. I hope. We were promised at so many locations, only to be foiled by wrong season, Kronor decimal points, and not having a watch. Tonight will be the night! Then, it's between a rock club called Garage, and a lower key bar that Lonely Planet says will make us feel like part of an impressionist painting. Is that before the beer or after?

Oh, so much time, so soon the trains! Did I tell you about Svolvaer and the biking? I can't remember and there's no time to go back and check. Svolvaer and the biking! Very cool. Hilly. Rainy. But cool. And we saw the cuuuuu-test little church. I think it is the original Lake Woebegone Lady of Perpetual Responsibility church.

Train train! Trevor's not paying attention, so the watch falls to me! Ciao!

the 9 point 5 kronor post

2006-06-14T16:34:00.000+02:00

okay, so i was meaning to note and give thanks, that unlike Japan, I can supposedly understand the keyboards here...but i'm wrong and therfore now have about a t-shirt's worth of internet time left....

anyhow, we are currently on the Hurtigruten Coastal Steamer "Trollfjord", which ostensibly means we will be trolling through fjords at some point, after which we will all roll our eyes at the misfortune that Beth got her sense of humor from her dear ol' dad.

hey, all you kids with dads! father's day, this sunday! don't forget...every dad needs another tie...except for mine, who i *thought* needed viking socks....until yesterday when i had run out of socks of my own and had to have *some* means of keeping the toesies warm...

we boarded this lovely Hurtigruten Coastal Steamer in Trondheim, which houses Norwayæs largest church, and impressive structure to say the least. (oh... 3.5 kronor left!!) we got a whirlwind 15 minute tour and history lesson before Trevor went marching off toward the train station in the rain. (Did you know itæs hard for a 5'4" girl to keep up with a 6'5" guy? Yes, this is even my coutnry of originm, and i still cna'æt do it.! no more time by ey beye ye yeye!!!
auif widerseh.

from teh perfect typer

Enlightenment at the Kafka Cafe

2006-06-13T18:48:00.000+02:00

Anyone who cannot come to terms with his life while he is alive needs one hand to ward off a little his despair over his fate... but with his other hand he can note down what he sees among the ruins. Franz Kafka

See, it`s becoming clearer now, I`m supposed to spend life suffering so I can write it down and be a great writer and have a cafe named after me in Northern Norway! As if! I can`t imagine that every Norwegian\German\English\Heinz 57 my age doesn\t want that. (Again, please pardon the random and inconsistent typos...I am unable to admit that while I can type letters very fast, I canæt find apostrophe, hypen and semicolon to safe my life. Just know that the character "æ" is not in my normal vocabulary and therefore must be in the exact place where the damn apostrophe should be.)

You know, it's interesting, that Kafka quote. One night in Uppsala, with curiosity at what actually plays at the independent theatre in a Swedish University town, we showed up at "Shooting Dogs", which, call me silly, I thought was gonna be a "River Runs Wild" type of boyhood story about tormenting little puppies and then growing up to appreciate them.

Oh noooo. Shooting Dogs is a(nother) film about the genocide in Rwanda. And, you might imagine, I really did spend portions of the film with one hand over my face. I am not wont to use the other hand to write down the particulars of the film. Many have already done that.

Gee, nothing like genocide to make you forget\abandon any intentions of one's intended comments on mineral water, liquorice, and the state of Norway's bathrooms. I guess that will be for next post...which, if we haven't totally run out of money by then, will be from an 8 story ship cruising through fjords! (We saw some of the patrons getting off at the stop in Svolvaer--we *will* be the oldest guests on this ship. Which is good...another birthday is imminent for this author.)

ciao for niao!

Extroverted Norwegians

2006-06-12T11:28:00.000+02:00

Yesterday round about noon, we crossed into Norway. The differences were stark and immediate. Pardon my self-effacement, but these people look much more like my kind than those supermodel blonde Swedes. Oh yes, the Norse have had to insulate themselves while on the seas seeking the finsk. Thus the Ranger noses, the Nelson jaws, and the Garthe (fyi, thatæs a family name--not just my brother!) thighs.

We have elected to rest a couple days in Lofoten, a group of islands off the northern coast. It is idyllic and unique here--the town square has a small farmer's market this morning, and there are locals riding their bikes in every direction. There are some cars too, but by and large, most of us seem to be able to cover this town on foot and on cycle.

Last night, in a search for sustenance and drink, we checked out the recommended restaurants, and the lone Italian restaurant. The receptionist at our rorbu (Norwegian for hostel, I believe) told us, the *really* nice place in town was "Du Verden", which translates as something questionably sensible like "you were" or like that. We p0ked our head in, and boy, was *it* swanky! Earthy tones and tall vases, beautiful yuppie types seeming to be occupied with a nice Malbec and today's fresh Cioppino. And only for a day's wages! Trevor and I decided to keep walking.

Eventually, we happened upon what claimed to be an Italian restaurant, though Trevor got the Mexican plate and I got a kebab sandwich. There we are, ordering at the front table, and the guy looks at Trevor, " do you want Mexican plate hot? Are you sure?" Trevor assures him that yes, he wants the hot Mexican plate, and the proprieter''s raised eyebrows make me think Trevor is in for some large, large, water consumption sometime soon.

We sit enjoying our beer (what I usually get) and our Fanta-like drink (what Trevor usually gets), and I posit that Trevor is in for some serious spice. The man is doubtful.

Then I remember one of the two jokes I think my dad has been telling since I was in Kindergarten--that if you go to a Norwegian's house for dinner, you may think they forgot to season the food, but actually, they put twice as much in in your honor. And of all coggie-goes-on-indie, when the supposedly hot Mexican plate arrives, water is not needed, the plate is cleared, and Trevor is not crying.

My dad's other popular Norwegian joke is "How can you tell an extroverted Norwegian? They look at *your* shoes when they're talking to you!"

And thus, in similar vein, as we took the seomtimes bumpy three hour ferry ride to Lofoten, there was this guy across the cabin from us that spent the vast majority of the ride looking at the upholstery on the ship instead of the craggy and ever changing landscape of the archipelago as we drifted westward. Trevor says, there is so much to look at outside! Why would you spend your time look at the chairs in front of you?? Well, the guy was Norwegian. Just think if he was an introvert. He'd be looking at his *own* chair.

Life is especially not cheap in this island community. We have paid about 30 bucks each to rent bikes for a day, so it's time to get going. The guidebook says Henningsvæer is the Venice of Norway, so we're gonna go there and see if they have Norwegian gondaliers! Ha det!

Too early for summer, too late for winter...

2006-06-10T19:08:00.000+02:00

How one is supposed to know what season it is, let alone what *time* it is, is beyond me. I woke up at 514 this morning with the sun streaming through the Levlors. It was just lovely--SUN...then less sun...SUN...then less sun. See, in an arc such as the sun makes at the ARC-tic circle, about every five minutes, it manages to peek through another one of those Levolors. Then it disappears again, until it finds another little slit to peek through. I donät know how Trevor did it, but he slept through nigh the entire annoyance...maybe itäs the book heäs reading. I mean shoot, mine is about a serial killer who is avenging his sisteräs molesters in Southern Sweden; his is about a fisherman in Iceland who is essentially a libertarian and a grouchy husband. Maybe you can see while I've been kept up at night, and Trevor--not so much.

Anyhow, as we drifted northward in this great country that essentially speaks German with elongated vowels and missing/extra letters (sallad, telefon...), we found much to our dismay that in the beginning of June, a great bit of Sweden is closed!

Definitely in the top 10 of "reasons to come to Sweden" is the Ice Hotel, which is near Kiruna, our first stop after a super long train ride. (I'm still feeling the sway of those tracks as I write--it's like being drunk for free!...or rather, the price of an overnight train ticket.) The Ice Hotel is naturally most impressive in the winter, when beds are made of ice, drink glasses are made of ice, and patrons are kept warm by monstrous bear skins and awesome sub-zero sleeping bags.

The almost nice thing is that in summer, which apparently it isn´t yet, there is at least a warehouse of sorts that preserves some of the parts of the experience. So as I looked with great anticipation to my vodka on ice, on top of ice, surrounded by ice...the nice girl at the tourist information desk informed us that the even the museum was closed! An uff da, and I´m not even in Norway yet. (Not to worry, tomorrow, we´ll make it to Narvik, and I will use my "uff da" with reckless abandon!)

All was not lost though. What was open, for the first day of the season was the Sami museum, which is also in Jukkasjarvi where the Ice Hotel *should* be, but luckily, it has not yet melted.
Upon entering the grounds, I noticed a heavenly smell of something akin to a mesquite fire.
My immediate thoughts were "Where's the warmth? Where´s the bearskins??" And there they were in a tall teepee, indeed with benches covered in bearskins and two guys just hangin' out.

One of them was a bear of a man, scraggly gray hair and a worn bandana around his neck, well broken in hiking boots, and some rugged outdoor pants. But wow, he knew his stuff--about Sami culture, and American culture too! (American Indian of course; we're talking indigenous people here!)

Ah me, this man and his talk about Sami culture was my favorite part of yesterday. And yet, I believe Trevor will be here in 2 minutes to tell me he is deathly hungry.

So we end thusly--Mr. huggable mountain man from Northern Sweden talked a little too long and the bus that stopped right outside the museum took off without us. Mr. HMM thought he could catch the bus, so we drove 70km per hour on back roads to try and catch up, but by the time we had, we were back in Kiruna. It was a free cab ride by Santa in the off season.

oh, and just one more thing! Tonight we are in Abisko and we will take the lift at 10 o'clock to see the midnight sun from the top of the mountain. it is literally a lift, not a gondala, so we are really expected to freeze our tush this time. Luckily, they provide hot drinks at the top.

Now I'M deathly hungry! Bon apetit!

Oops-a-la...

2006-06-08T11:26:00.000+02:00

So here we are in Uppsala, just north of Stockholm, trying to look like natives and failing miserably.

The retail employees have a whole conversation they utter at us before they've rung up even one banana or shirt. Fortunately, the blank looks on our faces result in an almost instant revert to perfect English.

This would have been helpful this morning, during our attempt to do laundry. It was easy enough to tell that a load costs 10 crowns (it's the only coin that fits), but what kind of wash to do? The washbin symbol with one line or two lines? How about the spiral looking symbol?

Trevor went with the philosophy of pushing buttons until there is noise or movement. Oh! There they go--spinning, spinning! Look at those clothes spin! Then--nothing. (One wonders, is *this* how the world will end? Spinning, spinning, then nothing?) Luckily, after pushing a few *more* buttons, there were suds and water. Here's hoping for clean pajamas tonight!

Blog entries may be less frequent in coming days. We are heading up north, near the Artic Circle, but probably not past it. There, the ratio of people to square kilometer is 2, whereas it is closer to 180 in Stockholm and places like that. If one of those 2 people have an internet connection, there may be more blogs. Otherwise, we'll have to rely on memory and pictures.

Hej da Uppsala, Hej Boden!

It can´t be bedtime--it´s still light!

2006-06-06T02:12:00.000+02:00

wow, great couple days in Reykjavik. yesterday we went straight from the airport to the Blue Lagoon to minimize travel time. The buses left for the city center after 90 minutes and after 3 hours. We couldn´t imagine with suiting up and all that 90 minutes was enough, so we shot for the moon by catching the 9 o´clock bus (if you haven´t noticed yet, there is a minimalization of capitalization and some other idiosyncracies in this post--foiled by foreign keyboards--again!)

much of iceland is ethereal, otherworldly, and the Blue Lagoon is no exception. Floating around the water, which has as many inlets as Iceland itself, one encounters anything from rock to squishy light grey mud on the lagoon floor. Then there are facial stations (named as such by yours truly), where you can take pleasure in caking your face with silica mud. We´re suspecting they´ve saved the finest mud for the spa customers, as ours was intermittently milky and filled with *accents*, shall we say. (it should go unsaid, that I can neither find the quotes key either)

I mean, there is a bit of a rush. it´s 1215 in the a.m., but so hard to know on account of the dusk now unfolding outside this cafe window. the easiest way to know it´s late is that we went down the stretch that has all the bars and cafes and nobody was serving food anymore. We thus had to resort to *10-11*, which i guess is like 7-11, only it is open from 8 to 12. What is this world coming to when 7´11 is open 24 hours and 10-11 is only open 16 (insert question mark here--several in fact).

Today we figured out that renting a car is much superior to taking the bus in Iceland. For one, because certain photographic enthusiastics must stop at places of spectacular sunlight and pretty flowers. (Yes, i said pretty flowers, and i wasn´t talking about *me*!)

It also mean we could take our time going from Pingvellir to Gullfoss to Geysir. (Note to reader--best not to use this post for any of your Iceland spelling and or writing, as essentially every word has a slash or some dots or maybe a little curlique)

Wait! I find them on the keyboard--þ, Æ, ð, Ð, etc...if you don´t have an Icelandic keyboard, they might not come through anyway. Aber schade!

So Pingvellir, Gullfoss, Geysir--
-Pingvellir is the world´s first site of a parliament. And they met outside! Pingvellir was reportedly chosen for its route accessibility and wide supply of firewood. The assembly met every day for about 2 weeks, i don´t remember how often, and commoners could watch, but from an outer circle.
-Gullfoss is a f****** incredible waterfall. Wow. It´s cacophonous and misty and even changes direction halfway through! They also have a disturbingly low guardrope, which is so close to the edge, that if you tripped over it, it´s bedtime for Bonzo. (But don´t tell my mom! This kind of stuff makes her nervous!)
-Geysir is the reasons we called water eruptions out of the ground Geysers. There could be a really impressive one, but it hasn´t spoken since 1918, so we just watch it mist. Then every 4 to 5 minutes, this geysir nearby, the *butter churn*, does it´s stuff. Oh, it´s cool! This German guy advised us that east side had less wind, so we were there for a while, and then wanting a different perspective, circled around to the west side. Oh yes, that is definitely more wind. Might explain why Trevor and I were darn wet inside of 4 minutes (actually, 1st eruption had us covering our cameras and running for drier ground.) And that was standing *behind* the rope. (In this case, the rope is for sissies. If you *know* where to stand, you can get great vantage points. If you *don´t* know where to stand, well, let´s just hope you have some dry undies in the car.)

It´s still dusk--but I´ve had Trevor set the alarm for an early hour, so it´s time to go. 'bout 530 on the West Coast--time for most of you to go too!

Ciao for niao.

Finally! 1975...again

2006-06-03T15:59:00.000+02:00

Hoo boy...and as The Norwegian Bachelor Farmer says, how sweet it is!

Today, my POSSLQ and I are headed to Scandinavia. A little Reykjavik here (look--I learned how to spell it!), a fjew fjords there, and a celebration of Grieg's birthday on the 15th...oh yes, a fine trip indeed. Oh, and I guess Trevor should show up at that conference in Uppsala on the 20th. I mean, they did admit his paper, after all...

The nicest thing is that yes, I have been to Scandinavia before, but I was barely even 2. I brought back souvenirs (chicken pox) and was rumored to have enjoyed talking to people (Apparently I ran through the hotel restaurant one morning, commanding my fellow Norse to "EAT! EAT!") Not exactly the affair to remember.

In more amusing notes, apparently a little 2 year old with chicken pox and a pacifier looks like Churchill with his cigar. (This, according to my father, an honorary member of the club of Norwegian Bachelor Farmer; you can't have full membership after marriage...especially to a German girl! ) Also, we got written up in the paper once (visiting some cousin in Norway I guess?) only my brother with his angelic long brown hair was reported as "Dorothy" instead of "Garthe".

So sure, I got chicken pox and remember barely nothing else--but Garthe spent the next few years trying to convince people he was a BOY. Our neighbor Frau Annie even got him overalls and embroidered "BOY" on the front pocket.

The flight leaves at 11:35 tonight, so we have this whoooooole day to think about all the things we could possibly forget. I haven't forgotten anything yet! So wish us luck. We don't want our first Norwegian to be uff da!

You mean you were actually reading this bloody rag?

2006-05-18T20:59:00.000+02:00

If you've been reading this baby of a blog, this infant of introspection, then you probably also got my message about myspace. Myspace! The future of a Democratic majority returning to Congress! If only you'd be my friend...I currently have two friends. I really thought I had at least 4, but myspace says I have two. Not only that, but one is a painting.

Anyhow, this blog is moving to myspace. ( http://myspace.com/bethello )Then when I get riled up about Richard Pombo-[cough]-special-[acchhem]-interests... or my right to choose (everything)...or your right to burn (candles, the flag)...I dunno, maybe you could write a response on YOUR blog. Come on, how can you not have a blog? Or if you want to be really with it, you should start a V-log! The camera does NOT add 10 pounds. Get filming!

Other 'P' words I like very much....

2006-05-08T20:42:00.000+02:00

PRO-CRASTINATION

Not Con-crastination. I don't even know what you're against if you like Con-crastination. Suffice it to say, it's not me.

So, one of the funnest things about school is Political Forum class, where we have spent the whole semester arguing a different topic each week. One week we yelled about warrantless wiretapping, on my week we cried, screamed, and pondered what it's gonna take to get Democrats organized and effective in government again. This week, we're talking about illegal immigration. Here's what I posted on our message board. What do you think?

There are so many factors that have gotten us in this mess besides the simple state of our borders and how many people are coming across them every day.

-Consider the irony, that under NAFTA, American companies were able to transfer manufacturing, i.e. American jobs, south of the border where wages are even lower than minimum wage in the US.
-Consider that the more stringent immigration measures we have today would have still allowed the 9/11 hijackers into this country.

What should be done?
-We should have a higher minimum wage. We should have a guest worker program. We should fine employers who hire undocumented workers. We should have greater cooperation and information sharing between the Intelligence and Immigration arms of the federal government. We should not reward American companies for choosing profit as their # 1 priority, with executive compensation following right behind.

But shoulds aside, we’ll still have unskilled and poorly educated immigrants coming across the border. With no education and little to no grasp of English, where can we expect them to work? The options are limited.

The average lifetime fiscal impact of a Mexican immigrant is more than a negative $55,000. This means with taxes paid minus services used, they command services in excess of taxes by $55,000. This is chump change when compared to say, what we’re spending in Iraq. But, the figure goes into the black for immigrants with education. We need job training, literacy training, and English classes for immigrants in the US. With a more educated work force, we will have a more prosperous economy….or something like that.

P.S. The PRO-crastination part is that I'm supposed to be doing other homework right now. Homework, blech! Arguing, yum!

Apocalypse Yesterday?

2006-05-03T17:35:00.001+02:00

Dude. Check out the talking points for this week at New York Times. (If you don't have a membership, email me, and I'll send you a link...carbon free!)

In terms of oil availability, some geologists say we already reached the peak and the current reserves will last as long as say....Social Security. 2037? Wait, that's even before Social Security!! Well, I guess we don't have to worry about retirement so much now.

This was a peppy little quote I found while procrastinating the getting-of-the-ready for school and going outside into the cruel world:

Your Fortune:
Have you learned nothing from Nancy Sinatra? These boots were made for walking. Make Nancy proud. Walk to work or to the corner store. Her earlier song "These Boots Were Made for Working the Pedals on Your Brand New Luxury Vehicle," was kicky, but not as much of a commercial success.

But are you sure? I have some boots that were definitely not made for walking. I guess I'll not be wearing them today, walkin' to the bus. Get on the bus, Gus!

Mmmmm, worrrrds

2006-05-02T20:12:00.000+02:00

Tally ho all!

Is this not a wonderful time of year? The sun is out. Frisbees are soaring on the lawn along the Embarcadero. Mangoes are in!

And there is a bird outside my office window who only knows two notes, E and G. E and G, and E and G, over and over. Gee, I sure wish he could find his mate already. Who knows, maybe then he would get a root and we could have a whole C Major triad. Is that too much to ask?

In other news, a special shout out to my old friend Michael in Karlkoga, Sweden. He was a little concerned that I never write, until he realized that, hey, just read the damn blog and then you'll be intimately acquainted with the humdrum of my daily activities. (By the way, in follow up to last week's rant about iced coffee, not even Peet's can get it right. I don't know what is so hard about putting the darn coffee in the fridge the night before? Do they really think we are some kind of fine schmeckers who can detect unfresh iced coffee??)

And finally, the real reason I logged on today, WORDS! Mmmm, words are fun, especially when you learn the long ones. Thus as I slug through my reading and think of some of the policies of some people (not naming any names!) I know in academia, I remember parsimonious.

Par-si-mooo-ne-uss! I love thee! Thou art word of melody and vowell, and yet, indicative of greed and execrable wealth and a general unwillingness to share with others. Yes, I just had to say that word, and express some dissatisfaction.

We now return to our regularly scheduled programming.

Wednesday Survey

2006-04-26T20:53:00.000+02:00

Please select (a) or (b) in answer to the question, "Who are the most valuable lobbyists and why?" Assign point values if you like. Extra points for you--if you elaborate on your answer.

(a) Lobbyists speaking up for the underdog are the most valuable. An example would be ethnic minorities who have a sewage planet in their backyard.

If valuable is intended to imply effectiveness, the answer would be those lobbyists working for large corporations. After all, they have the most money to insure their interests. For example, when Rachel Carson came out with Silent Spring, large companies like Monsanto actively lobbied to discredit her.

(b) [quoted in full] Former legislators/officeholders are most valuable - they know the system!

Rant 'n' Rave, a.k.a. Tuesday Morning Insanity

2006-04-25T20:04:00.000+02:00

There's nothing like getting out of the house early so you can go out in the world and see how messed up everyone is.

Hmmm. Maybe it's the system.

Gasp--maybe it's me!

It is curious, a lass like me in the study of politics. For one, because I am *really* into truth in advertising. If the sign at the grocery store says, "Orange's 99cents", I believe I have the right to think that oranges, despite having no independent thoughts of their own, somewhere underneath their rind, they have a wallet, and inside is 99 cents.

I mean 'orange-apostrophe-s'! That's possessive! The oranges have 99 cents!

The one that gets me more often if the prospect of iced coffee. Sure, sometimes I think, "you know Beth, a little abatement of the caffeine addiction may help you not get so worked up about this".

Bah. I'm trying to keep up with the Jones. And you know *they're* drinkin' coffee.

None the less, what IS iced coffee?? Is it COLD coffee over ice?? Is that not how they do iced tea?? Or is it HOT coffee over ice?? (Which, geez, if the damn baristas had paid attention in Chemistry AT ALL, they would know that "hot coffee over ice" really amounts to "lukewarm watered down coffee". And is that what I paid my two dollars for?? In words of my favorite electrical engineer, BEEEZERVILLLLLE!!

So as I rode the train back to SF from my worthless doctor's appointment (he told me I should have been referred to the OPthamologist, not the DERMatologist), I tried to tell myself, "Self, 20% of America lives below the federal poverty level. Could you be a little more mature than worrying about the strength and temperature of your coffee?"

And then I remember my therapist, who says that government is run by a bunch of pissed off twelve year olds. Since I wasn't drinking coffee at 12, I figure, heck, at least I'm more mature than them! Shoot, I didn't start coffee until almost 21! At that rate, I'm an old timer! Kind of.

Well, speaking of old timers--with the utmost respect of course!--I was on the bus yesterday in my usual "public transportation in this city sure sucks" mood, when this cute-as-a-button older lady gets on, and SMILES at the bus driver.

That's the first way I know something's different. Smiling at the bus driver??? Omigod. They are the surly of surly. Don't ask them when the bus is leaving. That's what makes them surly. Don't smile. That makes them surly too. (Among about a million other inane and "not in my job description" things that I'm sure happen to them everyday.)

Then as we proceed southward on 19th street, she is *still* smiling. She's got her stylish, red, but simple hat to keep the sun off her face. Shoot, I could swear she's wearing purple under there somewhere. Socks maybe?

Then as she gets off at the mall, she leans down to this other girl on the bus, who had the BEST hat on the bus, and says very sweetly, I like your hat! The young girl smiles at the unexpected compliment, and the older girl traipses off the bus into this crazy, messed up world, still smiling, still wearing purple, and at peace with oranges having their very own 99 cents.

The first in a series: you may be 'x' if...

2006-04-03T17:50:00.000+02:00

I. You may be living with a trombone player if...

-you've heard of Wayne Wallace
-you're not allowed to use the mouthpieces as a funnel for your wine
-albums in the music collection include a countoff at the beginning of each tune
-you go to use the computer mouse and it's on top of a trombone case
-there is a general aversion to higher tenor "instruments", such as violins and sopranos

Aym naat dedd yett!

2006-02-18T19:15:00.000+01:00

So to give real time updates, I meant to start this journal segment from the comfort of my not-so-cold-home in San Francisco, but alas, the time, the time! There is not enough time!

Now, though, we've gotten the trusty Subaru up to Tahoe with about 4 million other All Wheel Drive Subaru's/SUVs, including only the occasional Volvo Cross Country wagon. And aym naat dedd yett! Bring out cher dead?? Not me!

It's a good life, this Tahoe business. We are actually closer to Truckee, and ambling into to old town, we find the ultra-graffitied, snowboard-stickered, hole-in-wall called Squeezins. A place to behold, to say the least.

Amazing little facts about Squeezin:
-There are *62* specifically ennumerated omelettes on the menu.
-Every ingredient from a respectable grocery store is available for your omelet: baked apples, carmelized bananas, all the cheeses....and PEANUT BUTTER. (And of course, mushrooms, pastrami, peppers, ham--what normal people put on their omelets.)
-Believe you me, peanut butter in your omelet probably sounds, disgusting, wrong, even immoral. But no! Peanut butter yum! Oh, that was the highlight of my day so far.

Now, as if it couldn't get better, just down the street (if it's not next door though, it means you drive) is Joe Coffee. And this isn't just about the coffee. Dude, I should go back and get a menu from Squeezins. Those names, they're like Oopma loompa, and hullaballoo jalalbee, and I don't know. I actually just made up those last two, but they were kinda like what they were called. You can't possibly expect me to remember them all--there were 62!

But this Joe Coffee place, man! I mean, you could just get a boring ol' straight (not gay) Chai, but why? When you can get The Alanna, the Marley Dog, or the Woody!! Now, far be it for me to have any knowledge of these kinds of things--but the Woody doesn't seem like the best drink for a girl to be ordering? But I had to do it: chocolate chai with espresso, you gotta do it.

But now the drink's getting cold. Ciao!

The sky may be falling--but at least I'm happy

2006-02-15T20:44:00.000+01:00

Ahhh, what relief to get ourselves to February 15th. All that red and pink and chocolate and pictures of Cupid and roses, geesh! Finally, now past the V-Day, we can represent the other pastels.

It's true. I like my chocolate colored pink, baby blue, lime green, and definitely, maybe even most of all, sunshine yellow. Look people, Christ is risen today. Get me some robin eggs.

Suffice it to say, I enjoy Valentine's Day now that I have someone to enjoy it with. Though one must be careful in the public display of affection amidst single and possibly extra bitter fellow Americans. (Why are they bitter? About the war? About their ridiculous rent/mortgage/gas prices? About Safeway's preponderance towards volume discounts for the family-ed?)

In any case, it seems the sky is falling for 2 major reasons:

1. In Environmental Studies today, our professor regaled us with tales of CO2 emissions. Every gallon of gas? 19 pounds. And people too! Hey, would you stop breathing so much?? (You'd think I'd have lost weight by now if I was emitting so much CO2 every day.)

2. Our Vice President shoots one of his shooting buddies. (Is that what hunting's about? Aim for the orange jacket? Huh.) And a lawyer to boot. Damn. (That's what I learned last semester--why we have a Solicitor General!)

Icing on the cake though, is Yahoo's #2 headline at 11 am: Cheney will grant interview. Oh great! Maybe some hard hitting questions from Barbara Walters and Oprah, maybe even Daniel Schor? Well, only if they've been recently hired by Fox News.

Excuse my French, but INTERVIEW, MY FOOT. It may be spelled "I-n-t-e-r-v-i-e-w", but it's pronounced /glad-hand-ing and pub-li-ci-ty stunt/.

Get out your umbrellas.

Difficulties in hardware feminism

2006-01-31T21:29:00.000+01:00

Who knows--it might be the creativity; it might be the hardware. But it sure is hard being a hardware feminist!

I got a bee in my bonnet to secure our eternally slipping futon on its frame. Just a simple S-hook and some denim loops, right?
http://www.swingworks.com/images/s-hooks-large.jpg
plus
http://www.silverspurwesternstore.com/images/B13DST.jpg
?

Nope, S-hooks are too narrow. What is this 13/16, 14/16, 15/16??? Who the hell cares about whether their S-hook is 13/16 or 15/16?? What about those of us who need SEVENTEEN-SIXTEENTHS??

Okay, then just a simple U-hook, right?
http://www.craftechind.com/images/UBOLT.gif

Well, you gotta get the right length.

I told you! Hardward feminism, geesh!!
I need some chocolate.

A few thoughts on returning to University

2006-01-31T02:27:00.000+01:00

Oh boy, oh boy! First day of school...since--like--3 weeks ago!

But this was different. With the start of Spring Term, there are a whole lotta people on this campus now. There's nowhere to eat lunch, except the cement pillar next to all the occupied tables. The line at the convenience store, as one girl said, is not convenient. And the textbook section?!? Man...short girls really have to watch out there.

Professors and the use of profanity:
It has become necessary in the course of teaching Political Science and Chinese Foreign Policy to use various words to designate excrement and um, bedroom events. I thought it was only my brother that says, "You gotta be f-----g kidding me!" Nope, it's my Pol Comm teacher too. The Prof for Chinese Foreign Policy was a little more temperate; he just made a polite request for "no B.S." Hey, I can respect that. In fact, I don't need no stinking B.S. And you know why?! Because I have a B.M.! Ba ha ha!!

That is both funny and sick at the same time. Hopefully my readership knows that B.M., in my life, is more commonly referred to as "Bachelor of Music".

"What is this thing you call Blackboard?"

Am I really this old? In an entire class, I was the only person who didn't know what Blackboard was. I know what LPs are! And rotary dial! Do they count?

Blackboard is apparently some kind of online tool that professors use to post notes about the class; my Current Topics prof will be using it so we can discuss things with each other. I told him it made me thinking of chalk and 1st grade, and still, no one else knew what I was talking about. Not to mention at the front of the classroom, the so-called blackboard was white.

Those are the thoughts for now. Barring a stampede at the bookstore, more updates will be upcoming.

MUNI Uni

2006-01-24T20:09:00.000+01:00

Hey, guess what! No need to go to an accredited university, no! You can get your education right here in San Francisco's own public transportation system, also known as MUNI.

That's right folks! Step right up, and be seated next to an older jaundiced man who claims he graduated from Law School at NYU, and then, heck, just decided not to practice law. No, I hear ya--Law School is an investment--that's what he said, and it makes sense to me.

The part I loved though, was when I was about to get off, he hands me a business card with a green leafy forest on it: "OASIS CAFE--Are you looking for Medical Marijuana? $45 and up."

Whoo boy! Even with bus fare that's still cheaper than the $600 I paid for Winter Session Poli Sci 200.

The real lesson came when Mr. Marijuana Consultant (aka James) told me that education meant automatically higher wages and I pointed out Bill Gates. Is it Bill Gates? Someone, some really rrrrreally rich guy out there didn't finish high school or college or somethin'. Well then Mr. MC starts talking about how the reason Bill Gates sucks is because he has all that money and he doens't just give it away. "Noooo, he does it for the tax breaks!"

Well sure! But shoot, can't even people acting for themselves get some credit for benevolence?
Apparently not. He was more impressed by the pandhandler on the corner who gave away 3 of the 5 pennies she had in her coffee cup. Like that ever happens. Isn't that a story from the bible? Like, sooo not 21st century...

Hey, it's a good life. School's out til next Monday, and Trevor and I are off to Portland to see Christy Chris Smith and be seasonally depressed. Next post, Nietsche and Santayana! With some more optimistic Peale thrown in for balance.

One day, we'll look back and laugh

2006-01-18T22:59:00.000+01:00

At least that's what I hope.

I'm trying not to be too nostalgic about this--I mean, isn't nostalgia for Baby Boomers?--but here, things are coming full circle, and it's hard not to smile, even chuckle at the things we claimed in the past or believed in the past, or shunned in the past.

When I was in high school, I thought "Eww, Fresh Air?!? What kind of new-age gobbledygook is Fresh Air?! It's probably some Joseph-Campbell-new-age-hero's-welcome mumbo jumbo!" Then seeping through the jazz station in San Diego, I heard Bill Russell and Ellen DeGeneres, more recently it was rappers and Bill O'Reilly. Hey! This stuff is cool! I had to eat my words. Fresh Air wasn't just Zen and the Art of Soft Voices. It was like, the best interviewer I had ever heard. She also wears bitchin' hornrim glasses.

Nearing the end of 1983, all in a flutter that we were about to reach 1984, and was George Orwell right?, my well-informed-always-best-of-intentions brother told me I had to read 1984 before December 31st. He claimed the book would spontaneously combust once we got to 1984. Or disappear. Or be illegal. Something like that.

That was the most ridiculous thing I'd ever heard and I decreed it couldn't possibly be true...but just to hedge my bets, I went and checked with my better informed father first. Unfortunate for me, my dear sweet brother was lurking in the hallway. Thus, no credit for sticking to my convictions. Damn.

It's hard to stick to your convictions, especially when the information is constantly changing.
Is this the office of Misinformation or the Thought Police? I'm sorry, no! I didn't think that. You only think I thought that!

But smile I did, waiting for my lunch of teriyaki chicken today, and remembering my pedantic musician friend in Tucson, who tried to tell me that if I wanted to learn good debate skills, I should watch Crossfire. As if just by virtue of having 2 people of differing viewpoints speak, we have a meaningful debate of issues where we each person respects the other's right to make their point, and change their mind, and have values that don't make them immoral or amoral or amorphous or immaterial.

Crossfire, ha! Debate ha!

We watched Crossfire in class today. And not just any Crossfire. Crossfire with JON STEWART.

What a beautiful man. Either the "smartest funny man" or the "funniest smart man" they say. And you know what he said?!?! He said 1984! He said 1984 is still good! And important!

Okay. I may have made a teeny bit of that up. Doesn't change the fact that I have to read 1984 for tomorrow, and take that, my brother!! The book is still here!

I just KNEW it.

Maybe all you need is a furrowed brow and a look of concern

2006-01-17T23:04:00.000+01:00

Here we are--it's two weeks later in the vast expanse that is Winter Session at San Francisco State. And yet, we're almost done. The midterm, had we had one, would have been about today, in between my 9:00 coffee and my 11:00 nature call. Luckily though, there was no midterm, just piles of reading...this, for a girl who didn't get through Great Expectations, The Scarlet Letter, or even Al Franken's latest.

Doh!

In characteristic Beth fashion, thoughts have escaped my lips, only half formed in their clarity.

Feelings of Who does Bush think he is?? and who does Lieberman think he is?? and why do we talk about Iraq and not Darfur? and so on, ramble around in my little noggin, all competing for airtime, not sure what to make of the apparent report that America is in fact, purple, it's just Orrin Hatch and Ted Kennedy that are red and blue. And who cares about them? They're only politicians.

The funny (as in weird) thing in class today was our extensive discussion about how a president uses wartime to enact policies or changes on many fronts. Hence, the ubiquitous, "if 'x' happens, the terrorists win" line. If we don't reform Social Security, the terrorists win! So I guess the terrorists have won.

I must be a treasonist, supposing things like that.

No, actually, I'm just a San Franciscan--off in search of some sourdough and Ghirardelli chocolate. Fondue party here we come!

But you know, things can always be worse...

2006-01-06T19:48:00.002+01:00

Three weeks down and it's only January 6th! That's what happens when the Poli Sci class meets three hours a day. Dare we say--timewarp?

It might explain why on 2 days ago (or was that 2 weeks?), dragging myself and my aunt out of our evening DFA meetup, I had a revolt of the immune system and another 24 hours of delirium, enhanced only by Thursday's in-depth discussions of Federalist papers 10 and 51--and before noon to boot. Tread lightly, dedicated citizen. Treason of the majority and checks and balances are dangerous things to consider in the morning, without the ingestion of rum, or in the very least, espresso.

But you know, when one really starts to look at things, politics and history are funny! Wikipedia says Alexander Hamilton is the principal author of the Federalist Papers, and who are we reading--Madison! Ladies and gentlemen, it's not about volume; it's about substance. 10 and 51 are the ones everybody knows and they weren't written by Hamilton.

Then the adulterer gets the floor and what does he suggest? Legislators and presidents for life? Yikes. See, we're just trying to make it to 2008, and just look how bad it could have been. Truth be told, the direct quote is "hold their places for life, or at least during good behavior", but I'm not sure we could we keep someone in office more than 10 minutes if the qualifications include good behavior.

Harrison Ford and yours truly at Trader Joe's!

2005-12-31T21:28:00.001+01:00

I would say it was a dream, but I specifically remember thinking, Oh! I must write this in my blog! So that's how I know this really happened.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, nothing but the facts this last blessed day of 2005.

I'm strolling around Trader Joe's with one of my friends. I think we're looking for the Maple Shredded Wheat and some yogurt, when I look closer at my friend. Great Indiana! It's Harrison Ford from Apocalypse Now! Boy, those are some dorky glasses. Who knew someone so beautiful could look so dorky just because of glasses?? We finish at Trader Joe's and go to a 3 floor version of Borders. I go all the way to the 3rd floor, because that's where the children's books are, and am then mystified when my friend Harrison isn't there. Oh! He's on the 2nd floor in the Anne LaMott/Dave Eggers/Al Franken section!

Thus, further proof this really happened. I mean, someone who reads Anne LaMott, Dave Eggers, AND Al Franken?? Totally my friend.

Happy New Year all. May we all be sane and have cute dorky friends in 2006.

Next thing you know, I'll be pounding my fists on the table

2005-12-15T07:35:00.000+01:00

So my brother and I are slowly realizing that fate-dictated provision that YOU TURN INTO YOUR PARENTS. Hey, my parents are cool. I'm just not entirely convinced that what I'm "turning into" is the best parts of each of them.

You can decide for yourself below.

Submitting comments to CalTrain on the web after a 3 hour trip home:

[Drop down menu for "nature of comment"] "On Time Performance" [Just because there was no listing for YOUR TRAIN SERVICE IS TOTALLY UNACCEPTABLE AND THE DAMN CARS DON'T EVEN HAVE HEATING]

Comments: I regret to inform you this is about more than just "on time performance".

In the course of this evening, I have:

-been passed over at the Atherton stop
-been transported to Redwood City by shuttle, only to be passed over at the Redwood City stop. -forced to wait for the next train, scheduled 80 minutes later, which arrived EVEN LATER for some unexplained reason.
-moved once because of noisy teenage girls on cell phone
-moved 2nd time to escape the COLD AIR coming out of the vents
-arrived at 4th and King almost 10 minutes late.
-Searching for comment forms at the station, I only find bright pink forms intead--which state that fares are going up AGAIN.

YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING.

Ok, I've vented my laundry list. If you'll just allow me to elaborate a bit, I'll be on my way.

Place: Redwood City Station
Time: 7:28 pm on a Wednesday
What: Shuttle from Atherton arrives, with NO TRAINS in station. "No Crossing" Bell starts ringing; SOUTHBOUND train arrives. Simultaneously NORTHBOUND train arrives, under cover of dark of night and the already present, loud Southbound train. Next thing I know, both trains are pulling out of the station. WHEN WAS MY CHANCE TO CATCH THE NORTHBOUND TRAIN? DO THEY REALLY NEED TO LEAVE THE STATION AT EXACTLY THE SAME TIME?

There was NO WAY for me to know the Northbound train was even there.

If fares are due to increase again, I do hope the service on CalTrain will improve beyond mediocre. I have many associates also using your poor services; please don't underestimate our power for grass roots mobilization.

Background on headline: the thing about being a Democrat is that most of my friends and my parents' friends are Democrats too. So usually dinnertime discussions consisted of everybody generally agreeing and shaking their head at the atrocities of our presidential administrations. (Except during Clinton, when we were shaking our head for a slightly different reason. Cigars does not an atrocity make.)

Nevertheless, there have been times during family dinners and the like, when, to make a point, my father might take to banging the table for point emphasis. Man, when mild mannered Uncle Chuck starts making the silverware shake, hey! watch out.
-It's probably cuz of those damn S&L sneaks.
-Or that blasted-good-natured Ronnie! He's a B-list actor for go'ness sakes!

In similar fashion, when some kind of customer service was as lame for my dad as it was for me tonight, he might get right mighty mad.

"You SAY you'll be here at 8:45. Where are you?!?"
"You SAY you service the Atherton station. Oh! Only on weekends?? Is THAT why fares went up?"

Dude. I'm gonna have to have ice cream to feel better now. Bah Humbug for sure!

More things to miss about Japan

2005-11-29T22:55:00.000+01:00

I left my heart in Japan. Not San Francisco.

Which is why, when I go to this wonderful techie site that tells you when the next public transportation vehicle comes, I am at my wit's end, prone to utterances of fake swear words that my dad used when I was little. Eez beesh!!! I say!!! And Gormerei!!

Here, below, is the convenient reporting of next trains bound for my home.
Do they run every 10 minutes? Or every twenty minutes?? Do you think I can make that one coming in ONE MINUTE???

Next vehicles arrive in:
1
minute
22
minutes
31
minutes
41
minutes
Valid as of 1:53 PM Tuesday, November 29

Ay me, I remember when trains came every three minutes.

Sobering up

2005-11-25T22:44:00.000+01:00

I guess we're in for a long haul. 1st shopping day of Holiday Season 2004 and stores open at 4 am. At Whole Foods, they were playing "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire". (Even though the sun is out and I'm wearing a t-shirt...) And I've started reading The Daily Kos. Come on, everybody's doing it! (www.dailykos.com) even my hero Craig Newmark. (so says Foreign Policy magazine).

The biggest call to sobriety is Cindy Sheehan's latest letter to Dubya, written yesterday, the 2nd Thanksgiving she has endured without her son Casey, who died younger than I will. Probably younger than you too.

Yes, it's sobering, this talk of dissent being unpatriotic, a supposed lack of patriotism and support for the troops...how exactly are we defining troop support these days? Because during the Clinton years, we had 10,000 American troops in the Balkans, supported by 50,000 allied troops. A ratio of 5 to 1? I haven't heard numbers like that lately.

Too much sobriety too soon can be a shock to the system. Where's my shopping bag?

Awkward brushes with fame

2005-11-22T21:24:00.000+01:00

So last night, we went to a reading of the new book by the Kitchen Sisters. They are two journalists, who for many years now, have been going around America chronicling hidden kitchens for NPR. What is a hidden kitchen? It's kind of a covert supply of food for those needing something cheap, fast, and good. But as we all know, you can't have all three. At least not at the same level. But it's much more than that. It's refuge, it's activism. It's making the best of what you got when you're out fishing all day. Try here for a good primer: http://www.kitchensisters.org/about.htm

Anyhow, we arrive at A Clean Well Lighted Place for Books a few minutes early, to find a lovely spread of cheeses, fruit, and wine. My tall companion has already spotted the beverage area, and is in the process of emptying one Cab (not Yellow) when this portly gentlemen approaches the other side of the table, ostensibly to get wine for his friends. As Trevor and I are standing opposite him, it becomes my immediate opinion that we are his friends, and he must be opening that second red for me!

His backdrop is the beautiful and extensive children's section. Trevor remembers it would be nice to have a copy of Peter and the Wolf for this year's Storytime/Holiday/Housewarming party. I'm waiting for Mr. Portly Gentleman to pour me a glass of wine (why else could he be there??) and Trevor is asking the bookseller guy if he can find Peter and the Wolf. We find Peter and the Wolf, and it is some willy nilly overly descriptive version, wherein the Cat and the Duck are not just friends, but appear to have had spiritual and intellectual discussions in the past. This is not the book we want. Pshaw!

Comments are made about the appropriateness of wine in the children's section, and I assure Mr. Portly (and dare I say Unassuming) Gentleman that they check id's at the Harry Potter readings. This brings him to comment that the most recent Harry Potter movie is quite good, did you see it? And what a great little feminist Hermione is. And girls need role models like that. And I say, yeah, it wasn't cool to be smart when I was in junior high. He says, yes, luckily, school doesn't last!

And we go away, wine and cheese in hand; I'm thinking we've had some relatively clever conversation with just another Portly Unassuming Gentleman from the brownstones of Nob Hill.

Imagine my horror, when halfway through the reading, the Kitchen Sisters ask Armistead Maupin to come up and read an excerpt of the book. Trevor is accosted with my nudging and excitement. I'm whispering urgently to him, "Armistead Maupin!!! I love him! He wrote Tales of the City!! He is so awesome!! He got me through a year of Phoenix-Tucson commutes!!"

"Yeah, he's the guy that gave us the wine at the beginning too."

You would think a Cab would bring color to your face, but no, all color was gone. I was standing at a table, expectantly waiting for Armistead Maupin to hand me my hard-earned, long-awaited-for wine. I guess you get your due from unexpected places.

There are more of these. I am regularly in the position of embarrassing myself in front of famous people. But your time in Ms. Nelson's neighborhood is over. Maybe next time.

Bowling for John Murtha

2005-11-21T18:16:00.000+01:00

Apparently "You're either with us or against us" has changed. The new Bush Admin admonition is,"You're either with us, or you're a far left liberal like Michael Moore."

Let's be honest here. Yes, there was bipartisan support for the invasion of Iraq. It sounds like the CIA wasn't so industrious about the quality and/or accuracy of its intelligence., and that information was given to congressional elephants and donkeys alike.

But now we are 32 months in, with over 2100 American casualties, and somewhere between 26 and 30,000 Iraqi casualties. (Source is www.iraqbodycount.net, as yet an unconfirmed source for factual information. Still, even if they are off by a factor of 10....that would be a figure in excess of current American casualties. Whose definition of freedom and democracy is this?!?)

Enter John Murtha. (Or rather, recognize John Murtha, who has been in congress since '74, and apparently "with us" until last week when it was suddenly discovered he's a coward. This, despite his almost 40 years of service in the Marine Corps and tours of duty and Purple Hearts in Korea and Viet Nam. Can you say Swift Boat?)

So last week, as we're all reserving our free-range turkeys from family owned farms within 200 miles of our residence, John Murtha suggests in a vastly improvised and emotional speech that maybe it's time to phase out of Iraq. (Who do we think we are anyway? The most currently visible impact of our Iraq occupation is the unification of insurgent troops against us. The U.S. in Iraq is not making Iraq stronger and more ready for democracy. It's just making the U.S. poorer and less ready...for pretty much everything.)

Yes, I digress. Fact is, John Murtha tries to enter into a dialogue about pullout, say in six months, and what happens?

"You want pullout? I'll show you pullout!"

Suddenly there is a proposal on the floor of Congress for immediate troop withdrawal from Iraq. (Dude, where's my turkey? I'm hungry!) Who in their right mind would vote for immediate withdrawal from this war torn country?! Geesh, even the music director of SF Opera is sticking around til 2006. (http://www.sanfran.com/archives/view_story/107/)

That's some dirty politics. If a guy from the other team suggests a some reasonable discourse, just start bowling in a different alley and don't tell him.

To consider: Lynne Truss, the best-selling author of "Eats, Shoots and Leaves" has a new book out. This one's about manners! Excellent.

I'd like to put a proposal on the floor. Yes, the floor right here in my apartment. Are they going to deny me that too?

I hereby propose that we are nicer to each other today. Maybe even tomorrow and next year too. In 6 months, we will not have all our troops out of Iraq. But, in 6 months, maybe we can look back and see that we didn't resort to name calling of those requesting dialogue?

Worst of all, when someone requests dialogue to abate or phase out a quagmire, I would not think the proper response is what happened last Friday night.

Immediate pullout vs. 6 month pullout. Sound the same to you?

Bethello's quick and easy recipe for Saturday night satiety

2005-11-20T03:06:00.000+01:00

Ingredients
Must have:
Spinach Fettuccine Pasta
Chicken tenders we are trying to get rid of
Roma tomatoes

Nice to have:
Spatula (in place of hands and fingers)
Lid (instead of large dinner plate)

Boiling water, defrost chicken, blah blah blah...
wait! There's no moisture in this tomato chicken concoction!!!
What to do?!?!?

"IIII have come to save the Dayyyyy!!
Call me Chardonnayyyyyyy!"

Horrors, now there's an open bottle of Chardonnay. Well, at least all the wine glasses are clean.

Pasta's done. Chicken's done. Chardonnay in glass. Sit on couch and enjoy.

Roger: Published in SF Chronicle

2005-11-18T19:05:00.000+01:00

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/chronicle/archive/2005/11/18/DDGL8FPU0U1.DTL

I hear it's more impressive in print, where people's names are boldfaced.

Trying to get published in SF Chronicle

2005-11-16T19:24:00.000+01:00

You can see Ms. Garchik's original article here:
http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/chronicle/archive/2005/11/15/DDGQIF5LEJ1.DTL

Subject:
RE: geographic acoustics
Date:
Wed, 16 Nov 2005 10:22:33 -0800
From:
"Garchik, Leah"
To:
"Beth Nelson"

Thanks Beth..... I am going to write a little more about the noise.... Will see if there's room to mention a bit of your note. Best,

-----Original Message-----From: Beth Nelson [mailto:bethjohanna@yahoo.com] Sent: Wednesday, November 16, 2005 9:56 AMTo: Garchik, LeahSubject: geographic acoustics
Hi Leah,

For what it's worth, not everyone within shouting distance of SBC park thought the concert was tolerable. Kudos to Mr. Jagger, who is eligible for AARP *and* rock star status. This doesn't change the fact that at 6 pm last night, when Metallica took the stage *again*, I just had to leave and go to a movie.

I live in the Beacon across the street from SBC. What do you think are the chances of a string quartet playing at SBC instead? Heh.
Suffice it to say, all is not lost. I basically saw the concert for free: Heard most songs twice between sunday and tuesday, and saw all the concertgoers as I walked "against the grain" to embarcadero cinemas. And saw Mick Jagger's outfit on the front page of Monday's Chronicle!

Thanks for letting me put in my 2 cents.

Cheers,
Beth Nelson

Open letter to The Smart People

2005-11-16T08:13:00.000+01:00

I've just returned from finally seeing "Good night, and Good Luck", and Edward R. Murrow was right on both counts. As in, "I'm going to bed soon", (Good night), and "Damn, are we in sad shape!" (Good luck)...and shoot, he was saying this in the 50's--Iraq war and terrorism aside.

Being raised mostly around a bunch of raving liberals, (that's right, not raving Limbaugh's) I was brought up to believe that Republicans are bad and Democrats are good. Are you good? How good? Jesus good? Pat Robertson good? Fundamentalist Christian good?

It's just that some things have come to light for me--

-Oh boy! We have a two party system! That means parties on July 7 and July 8th! [what?!? that's not what it means?!?] Ohhh, BI-partisanship. Wow! Concept!
-Not all Republicans are bad. Some of my best friends are Republicans.
-People get news at the gym! From a banner scrolling across the TV as they climb the StairMaster.
-I am about as well informed as they. But less fit.

When I was in the music world, we spoke about some of our fellow musicians as if they were ill. "They've got the music bug." These were people that had to be musicians, poverty and all, because they just couldn't do anything else. And not necessarily out of intellectual incapacity, but more out of emotional commitment. As in, "I will be unhappy in my life if I can't have this life as a musician."

I may be unhappy, but not because I've not played cello today.

I'm unhappy because I don't understand what's going on with my country. Why the public indifference? Why is politics such rarified matter that noone at Starbucks today mentioned Samuel Alito's ambiguous record on abortion? Or the exit strategy for Iraq?

In fact, I've got the political science bug. I've taken vitamin C, played dozens of Solitaire games...nothing will shake it. Alas, I think I'm going to have to go to school.

Thus the letter to You Smart People.

Yes, always with the last minute, this author is. Full application due December 1st, including ***2 letters of recommendation***. Who can testify as to my political obsession and intellectual capability? Maybe some random person reading this blog? (Don't worry; I'm going the usual routes too; but at 2 weeks out, it's best to use all options.) So if you have kind words to submit on my behalf, wait no longer! Operators are standing by: bethello42(at)yahoo(dot)com.

So Good night! (to you)
and Good luck! (for me...oh heck, and you too, I guess)

PSA, that is, a Public Service Announcement

2005-11-10T19:35:00.000+01:00

Sometimes you're just on a really steep learning curve. Thus, the following PSA:

Topic I

-I report to you, the length of The Longest Day is 41 hours. In the course of The Longest Day, it is possible to:
* stroll the streets of Tokyo
*meet your brother and childhood friend for tonkatsu
*find the Godzilla statue (all of about 1 meter high)
*take a plane 5000 miles from Tokyo to San Francisco
*race the sun (the sun won)
*nap
*meet Trevor, in the rain, on your bike, in Foster City
*jacuzzi (which, today, is a verb)
*get a sandwich with avocado
*get assigned uncomplementary nouns (more info in previous post)
*oh, the list goes on!! Just wanted you to know what can be done if the day is longer than 24 hours.

Topic 2
For those not intimately acquainted with all things technological.

There is an archive in the Beth-Beth Bo-Blog Banana-Fanna etc. blog!
There on the right? Listing previous posts? Then it says October and November? Yes, an archive! Or if you're my friend Parvaneh--or French-- an "arr-sheeve".

This can be helpful if you think only my 1st 2 posts were good. Then best to look in the arsheeve.

Topic 3
Needing a jump for your car, when you live in a badge-entry-only community.

-You really need the head security guy.
- He is hard to find.
- You might not have time to put the bread in the toaster before the tow truck arrives.
-It's okay; your girlfriend will do that when she comes up for water.
-Your cell phone will ring the second you get in the elevator, and your hands will be full.
-Fellow passengers will delight in hearing a cell phone version of Beethoven's Fuer Elise.
-It is possible to balance your drink on your chin so that you can answer the phone with your free index finger.
-Fortune will smile upon you and get your boyfriend off to work on time.
-Your parents will call the second you finally get a chance to use the water closet.

The slogan of my high school was "At Rio, the possibilities are endless." And so they are.
So much we learn by 10:35 a.m.

Welcome f^@&$ing-back to beautiful-f#(@ing America

2005-11-10T08:57:00.000+01:00

Please pardon my ampersands; the more things change, the more they stay the same.
So, I'm in a little shock.

Continuring the list of "things I'll miss about Japan":

#12.
-People falling asleep on the train everywhere. In a most entertaining fashion.
-Wednesday, 9:33 a.m.; BART Airport station, San Francisco, USA:
Get on BART. These people are asleep too!....and they're Japanese to boot!

#13.
-Groups of cheery middle aged women chatting on the train in Japanese.
-Wednesday, 9:41 a.m.; CalTrain station, Millbrae, USA:
Honto ni! Cheery middle aged women chatting excitedly, in Japanese.

So this is what I mean. I wasn't really sure I had left Japan.

Then we're "bulletting" up north to the city, when I'm again reminded that this area of California, like Tokyo, looks like a concrete jungle. And yet, at some point in the distant past, we called that progress?!?

But now I'm back. And I know I'm in America. And this is how:

Subway Sandwiches, CalTrain station, San Francisco, 4th St. and King.
Beth orders the daily special and gets charged extra for the avocado.

-"Avocado is a vegetable. Isn't it included in the price of the sandwich?"
[I'm pretty sure avocado is NOT a vegetable. Still, the extra charge is not listed anywhere.]

The cashier assures me I must be charged for the avocado despite its non-listed-status.
The guy behind me rolls his eyes and insinuates that my personal protection of funds is not warranted.

-"Sir, I don't need your input right now."
-"Heyy, sum uv us are late for werk!!"
-"I'm standing up for my rights as a consumer"
-"It'z like daat at ebry Sobway!"
-"Sorry I missed the memo. I've been in Japan."
-Grumble gumgle. "Ergh. Grunt. Me impatient unhappy man."
-Damn. "At least I'm not an a$$hole."
(OMG! Did I say that out loud? Oops.)
-Grumble grumble. "The jury's out on that."

OMG! Did he say that out loud? Yes, I think he did. Great! Welcome home Beth! You're an a$$hole!

Ten things I;ll miss about Japan

2005-11-09T05:26:00.000+01:00

1. Having an excuse for typos.

2. Sushi that melts in your mouth. (Note to self; thy beloved Trader Joe;s may not have the freSHEST SUSHI.)
3. The entire wait staff of the restaurant yells "WELCOME TO OUR RESTAURANT!!!!!" the second you walk in.
4. The entire staff anywhere (bank included) yells "THANK YOU FOR COMING TO OUR ESTABLISHMENT!!!!!" as you leave.
5. My vocabulary of the last 3 weeks was less than 50 words; and somehow I speak good Japanese.
6. -Are you thirsty?
-Yeah, darn, I should have gotten some oolong tea at that last machine. Where:s a drink machine when you need it? [2 doors down...] Oh, whaddyaknow, another one! And this one has the 70 lemon drink! Wait...hot coffee or 70 lemon drink...OMG--is that PocARI SWEAT?!?!

UM....7. HAVING SOME CLUE HOW TO GET THE CAPS KEY UNDONE.

8. (YOU KNOW ME; THIS IS HOW LOUD I TALK ANYWAY.)

9. TRAINS THAT COME ON TIME---AND EVERY THREE MINUTES!

10. RESPITE FROM THE BUSY LIFE, IN KAMAKURA

AND FOR EXTRA CREDIT---

11. THE MAN WHO STEALTHILY FOLLOWED US TO MAKE SURE WE GOT ON THE RIGHT TRAIN.

A Kiwi, an Australian, and an American walk into a bar...

2005-11-04T14:57:00.000+01:00

No, really! We all did. And they had much cooler accents than I do.

But neither here nor there. I met a very entertaining and nice guy named Suzuki Kazuyoshi. (Suzuki teachers/trainees, take note: he`d never heard of Shinichi Suzuki. Imagine! Explaining the Suzuki method in Japan!!) And thus I come tonight to dispel rumors.

1. Some Japanese do have a sense of humor. And laugh at things we think are funny...e.g. Seinfeld...and MEET THE PARENTS!!!! Okay, so actually, Kazuyoshi had not heard of the film Meet the Parents, but once I explained the premise to him--he thought it was really funny! (This came up because his daughter is living with her boyfriend, and he was all nervous about what he would say to the guy when they "hang out". Apparently he is a really good guy for her and he wants to make a good impression.) Still, he thought it was really funny that a parent might be so worried as to give a potential mate a lie detector test....yes, also, for your enjoyment, try imagining explaining "lie detector" to a Japanese person. Geesh.

2. There are more. Just not right now.

Adventures with someone you know

2005-11-04T03:27:00.000+01:00

I have a friend, let`s call her, um, Jane, and she didn`t know where her passport was this morning. She made it to the train station, was ready to ditch all sundries such as toothbrush and PJs before bussing to the Cultural Museum.

Yen--check.
JR Rail Pass--check.
Trevor:s rrreally nice camera--check.
Passport.....HONTO NIIIIII!!!! No check.

Now, my friend Jane, she:s gotten in a few of these situations, and she does seem to have a monumental amount of luck. Jane doesn:t like to talk about it too much, lest her luck run out. Suffice it to say, Jane trekked back to the hotel, at 2 km/hour because of blisters, to find a closed reception desk and a keycode no longer valid. Eventually getting through to some hotel staff, Nice Hotel Staff Lady let Jane in, and look at that! The maids have cleaned out Jane`s room and neatly placed her passport outside the door.

Jane wants you to know that she will pay more attention in the future, and assures you that Beth (and Johanna for that matter) would never do something as foolish as leaving her/their passport(s) behind at a hotel.

Blisters make for good Kunokuniya. Ciao for niao!