Journal of an Urbane Gorilla

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

Woke up before dawn this morning - very unusual for moi - and this is what greeted me at window in the lounge. The fountain had been frozen for a few days, but it was full of snow.

The whole landscape was white. I was very glad to be indoors. I was also glad to have the cuppa that Grams brought me a little later.

Grams is hoping to see the Dr. Who Christmas special here in real time, instead of having to wait for it on BBC America in February or something, for heaven's sake!

These last few days of David Tennant (nee, McDonald) as the Dr. are all the buzz here. He will be missed, I suppose.  I'm still waiting for Primeval to come back on, that's my favorite show. Even though Doug Henshaw has left , along with a few others, I still love all the creatures.

When the sun came up, I ventured outside again and took a few more pics. On the right, that's one very frozen ornamental cabbage.

I do like the lady in the ivy. She does look a little cold though.

Right now the wind is howling - I suspect it's gale force. But, we're tucked up warm inside Gwel Y Gorwel. I do hope Bronwyn and the child like their presents. 

This is the sky about 20 minutes ago. At the mo' it's a tad darker.

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders) and support Kiva.  

And, of course 

平和  に 働 き

(heiwa ni hataraki: work for peace)

 

Oh sure, it's all fun and games until someone spills the mayonnaise!*

Before I start I must explain that I am a qualified ‘Toonologist. I have my ‘Th.D. So, please understand as I proceed: I’m an expert in the field.

I started my studies by watching Looney Tunes. I can tell you who directed any particular Warner Brothers’ cartoon without even seeing the credits. I can even tell you who did the music. Carl Stalling rocks! Milt Franklyn doesn’t. Tedd Pierce was the best storyteller, and Bob Clampett’s ‘toons were always way too topical. I have a cartload of classic Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies on DVD and will watch them for hours on end. Grams met Chuck Jones once. That’s makes me green with envy. But, I digress.

Henri and I currently have a favourite ‘toon. We like anime, and Jimmy Neutron; but our fave is Ed, Edd, and Eddy (collectively: the Eds) on the Cartoon Network. I was just watching an Eds marathon and wondering what it is that makes it so great. Could it be that there’s a bit of Ed, and Edd, and Eddy in all of us? They’re all archetypes. They live on a cul-de-sac in the Peach Creek subdivision. Their neighbours are: Kevin, Rolf, Jonny 2 by 4, Nazz, Jimmy, and there’s Ed’s little sister, Sarah. The Kanker sisters live in a trailer park nearby.

Ed, the one on the right appears to have Asperger’s Syndrome. He may seem not too bright, but he comes out with incredible insights at the most improbable moments. “A lesson in life, I am sure I’ll get.” Then again, he can be counted on for the best non-sequiturs: “None for me thanks, I’m Russian”

Edd (also known as Double-D), the one on the left, is the obsessive-compulsive one. He is a boy-genius whose parents communicate with him through sticky-notes. His talents are always grossly mis-used by Eddy for his scams. Double-D obsessively wears a stocking cap and endlessly tries to educate the denizens of the cul-de-sac. He is prone to say things like, “Curse the consequences of an only child!”

Eddy is the short, thoughtless, insecure leader of the trio. His life goal is to be rich without doing anything to earn it. He’s the ultimate scammer. How he manages to get the others involved in his scams is beyond comprehension. Of course every scam is doomed to failure.

Looking back on the last three paragraphs, I realize that it’s impossible to explain something as ethereal as the Eds. It’s especially hard to explain something like the Eds. They are always going to make the same mistakes, they will never learn their lesson and they are wet-your-trousers funny. It’s also very intelligent, which is unexpectedly wonderful. Well, maybe some quotes will help:

“Overwhelming fear is not an excuse for rudeness, Rolf.” -Edd

“What are you flossing your gums about now?” –Rolf

“You practically scared me out of my one-size-fits-all pyjamas!” –Edd

“I was a teenaged appetizer from the planet Sushi.” –Ed

“Is that so, he-who-laments-at-the-drop-of-a-hat.” –Rolf

“What do you want from me, she-wolf of badness?” –Rolf

“If you smelt it, you dealt it, Eddy” –Ed

“The future knows no stains.” –Edd

“Come on, my nose runs faster!” –Eddy

“If only for a day, I wish I could enjoy the serenity of Ed’s world.” –Edd

Yeah, it’s true. You do have to see it. But, we’re not the only 3E fanatics. There’s whole websites devoted to them. I can hear Grams humming the theme tune now.

A dopo e Moochas smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

*Edd in episode 1 of Ed, Edd, and Eddy

“How do you do business with a man who has no door?”*

I have this dream of a trip. I have wanted to see the Aurora Borealis (the Northern Lights) for a long time. I’ve bookmarked sites that have live updates on solar storms. Solar storms are where the Aurora Borealis starts.

These lights look so magical and I’ve never seen them in person. Most folks go to Alaska to see the Aurora, but I don’t want to see them from there. Nothing against Alaska, I just have a place I prefer.

Many years ago (1983), I saw a movie called, “Local Hero.” I was enchanted by the story and the characters. But, most of all, I loved the locations. It was shot, mostly, in Scotland. I had never realized that you could see the Aurora from Scotland. Once I knew this, I have wanted to go there.

“Local Hero” tells the story of Mac McIntyre. Mac works for a big oil company in Houston. His boss sends him to this little town in Scotland in order to buy the entire town so that the oil company can built a huge refinery there. Mac thinks that he’s going to face a hostile crowd, but the townfolk are eager to sell up and get out. The scheme all goes pear-shaped, but they all learn valuable lessons in life. It’s a quiet little film. It’s one of my faves.

The town of Pennan was the town in the film. It lies on the North East coast of Scotland. Since the hero of the story sees the Aurora from there the first time, that’s the town I want to go to.

There’s only one sticking point: talking Big Guy into this particular adventure. Grams is all for it, but Big Guy isn’t as keen. Since I first brought it up though, our friend Emlyn has offered to go along (and drive). Also, since Marian is now retired, she’ll have the time to come too. I think that Big Guy is starting to warm to the idea now.

For now, I’m putting together the trip for next spring to Vienna and Florence. So, Scotland is far in the future.

A dopo e Moochas smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

* “The ethics are just the same.” - Local Hero

House built on a weak foundation will not stand, oh no

We went rambling along our central coast neighbourhood yesterday. Henri was the navigator. We went along Highway 1 and ended up in Guadalupe. The town of Guadalupe is eye-blink small (as in: don’t blink your eyes ‘cause you’ll miss it). It’s an agricultural town. Most of the time it’s shrouded in fog, and yesterday was no different.

There is a great old eatery in town called the Far Western Tavern. They specialize in the foods of the town’s founders: Beef and Italian. Lots of Italian names on the headstones in the local cemetery. That was a surprise, before we went there the first time, we figured on a Mexican/Spanish heritage.

The Far Western folks also, thank goodness, make a mean bread pudding.
We all shared that, because we were so full from lunch. I stuck to veggie Italian, they had beef.

After our huge meal, we went out to the dunes. The dunes are the main attraction in Guadalupe. As you head west out of town, the dunes loom up before you like silent giants. They getter bigger and bigger the closer you get to the shoreline.

This time of year you’re restricted to the beach. The dunes are off-limits because the snowy plover is nesting. Come March, the ropes come down and people scramble all over the dunes. Many of them come to find the secret of the dunes.

The dunes’ secret is that under them lies the remnants of a film set. Back in the early part of the 20th century Cecil B. DeMille made a silent film, The Ten Commandments, there. When the film was done, the sets were abandoned. The dunes reclaimed them. But every once in a while, the shifting sands reveal their secret. It’s amazing that these flimsy sets have lasted so long, but of course they were huge.

As Henri was building sand castles and Big Guy was enjoying his cigar, Grams wandered over the picnic area in the photo. Earlier this year the state put in cement picnic tables, walkways and bins, but the dunes have begun to claim them. The parks folks are going to bring in a backhoe to re-claim their equipment, but in the meantime the tables sink into their sandy beds.

I came over to see what Grams was up to. “it’s reminds me of 'The Woman in the Dunes,' Gweeds.” “The Woman in the Dunes,” is a novel by Japanese author, Kobe Abe. It was made into a film in 1964. It’s the story of an amateur entomologist who falls into a Kafka-esque existence when he misses the last bus home as he’s collecting insects for his collection. He takes shelter with a woman who lives in a home in the dunes. Her entire existence consists of keeping the sand from inundating her home and suffocating her.

Life is a long eventful romp but, like the dunes, it’s moving toward its inevitable conclusion. Our “back hoe” will someday serve a different purpose. The fate of this picnic area, just 6 months after it was installed, left us in a thoughtful mood all the way home.

A dopo e Moochas smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

It must have been moonglow, way up in the blue*

I heard "Moonglow" wafting through the house today. Grams and Big Guy have a 300 CD changer, thanks to son-in-law Forrest. They’ve loaded it with all their faves. It’s quite an eclectic collection from Shubert to samba, from Gershwin to the Eagles. This tune made the Grams twirl around the lounge. She scooped me up and danced with me. She’s a swell dipper.

She seemed lost in her thoughts. I asked her what the song reminded her of. She smiled, “When Big Guy was courting me, of course.” She’s such a romantic, but they’re both like that. I’ve never known people quite like them. They’ll suddenly go waltzing around the living room, or bring each other flowers, after all these years, go figure. Wotta couple of looney tuneys!

Now, I gave you a little quiz a while back. I posted a photo of Big Guy in a film and asked if you could figure out which film it was. No one got it right. Here’s another one today. In this photo Big Guy is playing a mental patient. He’s being “escorted” through an institution by a couple attendants. The lead character has just been admitted to the hospital and Big Guy is providing the bridge before we see the star of the film. A big clue: the institution translated from French means: beautiful view. This film was made in 1986 and won several Oscars.

I need to get back to figuring out where the WiFi hotspots in Vienna are located.

A dopo e Moochas smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

It must have been moonglow, way up in the blue
It must have been moonglow that led me straight to you
I still hear you sayin', "Dear one, hold me fast"
And I keep on prayin', "Oh Lord, please let this last"

We seemed to float right through the air
Heavenly songs seemed to come from everywhere

And now when there's moonglow, way up in the blue
I'll always remember, that moonglow gave me you

It must have been moonglow, way up in the blue
It must have been moonglow that led me straight to you
I still hear you sayin', "Sweet child, hold me fast"
And I keep on prayin', "Oh Lord, please let this last"

We seemed to float right through the air
Heavenly songs seemed to come from everywhere

And now when there's moonglow, way up in the blue
I'll always remember, that moonglow gave me you

Moonglow- words by Eddie De Lange, music by Will Hudson and Irving Mills

You've got to be very careful if you don't know where you are going, because you might not get there.*

I was surfing through cyberspace, looking for WiFi hotspots in Firenze, Italy. I ‘googled’ “WiFi Italy” and in the list that came up was the BT Openzone. Hard as may be to believe, I did not know about this site. It is totally cool.

At first, it looked as if it only showed hotspots in the UK, but I put in Italy and, bingo, up came hotspots all over Italy. Now, here is where it really gets cool: you can download all the hotspots at the site to your laptop. BT gives you the choice of downloading in a PDF or Excel format.

I chose the Excel format so I could sort by city or any other category I wanted. Now, even if I can’t get on-line, I can find a place where I can get on-line. That sounds a little like Yogi Berra, right? Well, you know what I mean. A hint: when you search the site, you need to look for the names in their original language (e.g. Vienna=Wien)

The picture looks like the character Harry Lime when he was cornered in the Vienna sewer in “The Third Man.” Grams loves that film. I get a little tired of the zither, but she loves it. But, she says that it’s the moral relativism of the post-war era that the film reflects that fascinates her (now that's a mouthful). It isn’t just Harry who lives in the grey area of morality. Holly Martins, a writer of pulp fiction would help Harry’s girlfriend, Anna, even if it’s to evade the authorities. Anna has no papers, which is no fault of hers. But she’s willing to hide Harry if necessary. The authorities want to catch Harry, but they also have their own issues (as we would say today). Grams is also a big fan of Graham Greene (the writer) and Carol Reed (the director). She has a very funny Joseph Cotton story, but she won’t let me repeat it.

I’m sure that when we get in the gondola in the Ferris wheel in Vienna, she’s probably going to quote the entire scene between Harry Lime and his friend Holly Martins when they're on the wheel – you know, the one about the cuckoo clocks. She knows it by heart. Harry Lime, that’s a character you love to hate. Of course he does have probably the best entrance in the history of film. As to the ending of the film: Yogi was right, "You've got to be very careful if you don't know where you are going, because you might not get there. " I can hear that zither . . .

Okay, I’m off to look at hotspots.

A dopo e Moochas smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

*Yogi Berra

The days grow short as you reach September

Grams had a rude shock the other day, she saw a recent picture of Jean Pierre Léaud. “Oh my, my, my, he’s aged, Gweeds.” My lips remained firmly sealed. You see, Grams and Léaud are the same age (she might even be a tad older, I will say no more).

The first time that Grams saw Léaud was in the film “Les Quatre Cents Coups” (Four Hundred Blows), directed by Francois Truffaut, where he played Antoine Doinel for the first time. 'Doinel' was the alter ego of Truffaut. A lot of folks think that this is just a film about a boy who bunks off from school and ends up in a juvenile detention camp. What Grams saw was the heartbreak of a child who knows he is not loved. At home he is a nuisance, a bother. The only time that he can escape his loneliness is in the cinema. It is the only place he can find love: in films. Grams can still whistle the theme from that film (she can whistle the themes from several classic foreign films, but that is for another time).

Léaud grew up and played the adult Antoine Doinel in many Truffaut films: “L’Amour à vingt ans” (Love at Twenty), “Antoine et Colettte”, “Baisers voles” (Stolen Kisses), “Domicile Conjugal” (Bed and Board), and “L’amour en Fuite” (Love on the Run). He also acted in many other films and for other new wave directors. One of his most hilarious was as an egocentric actor in “La Nuit Americaine” (Day for Night).

Since Grams hadn’t seen a film of Léaud’s for many years when she ran across the photo (right side of collage), she was taken aback. But she recovered. It reminded me of when she and her friend Connie went to their 30th high school reunion. Grams said to Connie, “Oooh, look how they’ve all aged!” Connie smiled and said to Grams, “You’re right! Good thing we haven’t!” Grams laughed and said, “You got that right!”

Grams showed me the photo of Jean Pierre. “Look, he does the same thing with his mouth,” I said, “I’d have known him anywhere.” “You think?” she asked. “Oh definitely!” Somehow, that made her feel better.

Here is an interesting thought piece on Jean Pierre Léaud.

A la prochaine. Moochas smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

Sogno di Natale bianco*

Continued from yesterday-

When we had arrived in Viareggio, Grams practically leapt from the train. She ran off with the guidebook in hand determined to find out where ‘Guido’ beach resort was located. She wanted to take of picture of me under the ‘Guido’ sign, since my given name is Guido.

Big Guy and I ran after her, though it’s hard to keep up with her when she has a ‘flea in her ear.’ She may be old, visually challenged, and have arthritis; but that woman can move when she wants to. When we reached the front of the station, Grams was in deep conversation with the taxi cab drivers. Since her grasp of Italian is limited, the hands were flying. Grams tends to talk with her hands when she’s at a loss for words.

As I waddled up, Grams took my hand and made the taxi drivers understand that my name is Guido and she wanted to take me to ‘Guido.’ I suppose they thought we were a little crazy: it was, after all, the day after Christmas Day. The beach cabanas were all boarded shut for the winter. Why would we want to go the shore? Grams shrugged her shoulders and did her best, “Silly tourists” smile.

More cab drivers came up and, finally, a driver said that he knew where ‘Guido’ was located. He told the first driver. We hopped in the cab and off we went on Mr. Toad’s wild ride. We went around to the north end of the esplanade and there is was! ‘Mille Gracie’ all around and a big tip from me.

In Europe, Christmas is celebrated later than in the U.S. This was not the typical day after Christmas that we were used to, but it was St. Stephen’s Day. There were disembodied voices speaking in rapid-fire Italian. We finally realized that these were coming from loudspeakers on tall poles. Suddenly, the voices stopped and there was music: it was Bing Crosby singing “White Christmas” – in English! When that was done, the rapid-fire Italian came back on again. Then Bing started up again, and so on. Well, you get the picture.

Big Guy took the picture and then we noticed the people. A woman bicycled by us. She was wearing a mink coat. But she wasn’t the only one; the place looked like a furrier’s showroom. Parents were strolling with their children. Everyone was dressed up. The Christmas decorations had just gone up. It was very festive and ol’ der Bingle was singing Irving Berlin. Surreal doesn’t begin to describe it. Grams starting laughing, “Fellini didn’t make it up, he was just observing. I feel as if I’m in ‘8 1/2' for goodness sake!”

We walked down the esplanade just enjoying the scene. Finally we sat down and people started to come up to us (you’d think they had never seen an urbane gorilla before).

After a while, we decided to walk back up the street where we were standing because it looked as if it would get us back to the station. As we walked up the street we found a little trattoria and had a wonderful lunch. The best part was that the street did lead straight to the station. We got there just in time to catch our train back to Firenze. We clambered aboard and sunk into our seats. The end of a perfect day.

The picture? Grams and I walking down the esplanade.

A la prochaine. Moochas smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

*I’m dreaming of a white Christmas

“Today again I am alive. Again, life I lift you up, upon my shoulders.”*

Why the joy? Because we’re going to Wales! I’m going to see Bronwyn! Grams was going to save it as a Christmas surprise, but she said that I was moping around so, that she had to tell me.  “Come on Gweeds, get your chins off the floor!” said she.

This picture is the lane below the house that Bronwyn shares with Marian, Emlyn, Teddy Edward and Declan. Beyond it are Caernarfon and the Irish Sea. I can hardly wait.  Wales can have harsh weather, to be sure; but somehow whenever I’m there it’s lovely.  Chilly, but lovely.

It will mean that we have to leave Paris early, but Henri and his mum are leaving the day before we do, so I don’t mind as much.  This is one of those twists and turns of life that I was musing about yesterday. You just never know what’s around the corner, or how long the block will be before you get to that corner.

Somehow that reminds me of a silent film I saw once.  I was called “The Crowd,” and it was directed by King Vidor. It’s about a fellow who works in a huge impersonal office. He’s never going to get anywhere, but he’s always optimistic that something will happen that will miraculously change his life.  He’s married and has a couple of little kids. His wife always has to cut corners and scrounge to feed and clothe the family. One day he and his family are at Coney Island. It’s hot; the kids are running around and/or fussing. The wife is looking more than harried. Our hero is playing the banjo and singing. He turns to his wife and repeats what he always says to her, “Don’t worry honey, one day my ship will come in!” She gives him a very dry look and says, “is it being pulled by mice from the North Pole?!?”

Well, my ship has more than come in: it’s tied up at the dock and it’s unloading its hold full of good cheer right now. I’ m going to Wales! I’m going to Wales!

A la prochaine. Moochas smoochas, Gweeds

*Ode to Life by Pablo Neruda

The Wheels on the bus go ‘round and ‘round

It was a windy chilly day in Wales.  Marian, Emlyn, Big Guy, Grams and I had gone to Llandudno to meet Menai.  Menai is Emlyn’s cousin and we had met her and Marian in Paris some years before.

First, Marian and Grams decided that they needed to go to a butcher shop.  I don’t do butcher shops, so I hung around with the guys.  Suddenly, I heard, “Gweeds!  You’ve got to see this Cheddar cheese!  And the Stilton!  Ooooh, yummy!”

I toddled in.  She was right. They had the most amazing selection of cheeses I had ever seen.  The Grams, Big Guy and I are big cheese fans.  I was salivating against the display counter.  Big Guy and Emlyn came in and we took, “one of that, and one of this, and one of the other, thank you very much.”  Wales has truly wonderful cheeses, just another reason to love Wales.

Marian hurried us along, “We need to meet Menai!”  So, off we went to the pier.  During the spring and summer, Llandudno is a very busy resort town.  In the winter, though, it’s deserted.  We were there a week before the start of spring.  The promenade sweeps around the bay.  Grand old hotels line the whole promenade.  They look like grand dames waiting to go bathing in the bay. 

On this day, the wind and the clouds made Grams think of the Bay of Angels the movie, not the place.  Don’t ask me, I’ve never seen it.  Menai met us and we went for a walk down the pier.  The rides were closed, but the games were open.  Marian and I tried the ‘claw’ toy machine.  We must have shoved £5 into that machine.  Nothing, nada, zilch. 

When we went outside, Grams saw this little double decker bus ride.  “Oh, Gweeds, it’s just your size!”  Yeah, if I were little kid.  The woman has no sensitivity.  So she made me stand next to it and took a picture.

Big Guy and Emlyn stood at the end of pier and smoked cigars.  They had a good laugh at my predicament. Then, Menai suggested that, as it was tea time, we all go back to her house.  Bless her.  So, off we went and had tea and sweeties with her and Glyn. 

B/t/w, I have a plan to get us to Paris.  Can’t talk about it now, but it’s sweet.

A la prochaine.

Moochas smoochas, Gweeds