Journal of an Urbane Gorilla

On the move

Just a short post to say that we are moving - to Santa Fe. The Grams is acting like a slave driver and I'm totally burned out. In the meantime, here's the entrance to our new casita. 2 acres, hot tub, and sunset views of the Ortiz and Sandias. I've been promised a banana dacquiri every evening as I watch the setting sun. More to follow . . .

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,

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Reason is immortal, all else mortal.*

We were standing in the Sala de los Abencerrajes at the Alhambra in Spain. The room started to get very crowded. Looking up at the ceiling, Grams said, “Wow, it's so beautiful. Can you believe that such horrific things happened here? You’d think that the rationality of Pythagoras’ theorem would affect them somehow. Know what I mean?” Well, no actually. Unfortunately, neither rationality nor beauty ever stopped anyone bent on creating an ugly havoc.

Her thoughts about Pythagoras came from the ceiling. You see it was inspired by Pythagoras’ theorem. Click on the picture, there is a certain rationality in the beauty of that ceiling. As a matter of fact, there’s a rationality about the whole room. It’s amazing.

What happened in the Sala? Well, the last Muslim King of Granada, Boabdil, invited the Abencerrajes family to a banquet there. The Abencerrajes were rivals of Boabdil. While the banquet was going on Boabdil had every last Abencerrajes killed.

It gets better, when Isabel and Ferdinand won back Granada (and the Alhambra), Boabdil wept as he left. His mother was not amused and turned to him and said, “Don’t cry like a child over what you could not defend as a man.” Ouch, harsh Mama!

The Patio de los Leones was built earlier by Muhammed V.
Again there is a mathematical precision and lyrical beauty. There are 124 of those columns around the patio. At the centre of the patio is a fountain guarded by 12 lions. Are they symbolic of the 12 tribes of Israel? No one knows. Look at the channels leading from the fountain. Water is an important feature in the Moorish palaces. It’s a very calming effect, but it probably also had a practical reason. All I know is that it soothes jangled nerves.

We were able to enjoy the patio because it was less confining than the Sala. From there we went on to look at the gardens. That’s where I found this archway.
I think that it looks like a gigantic keyhole. There are all kinds of quiet little places like this around the Alhambra.

By the time we finished looking at the gardens, Big Guy said, “How about some food?” Grams had looked in the guide book and found that there was a restaurant right there. We had a wonderful and relaxing meal. I had my favourite Spanish meal: white asparagus with sliced tomatoes and topped with mayonnaise. Um, yummy!

I still like the Alcazar (Reales Alcázares) better, but then it comes with Sevilla and I love Sevilla. As to reason being immortal: reason and beauty are immortal, all else with return to dust.

A dopo e Moochas smoochas,

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

*Pythagoras, from Diogenes Laertius, Lives of Eminent Philosophers Greek mathematician, philosopher, & scientist (582 BC - 507 BC)

Memory feeds imagination – Amy Tan

We have a favourite restaurant that we like to eat at when we’re going up the central coast of California. It’s located in King City, a town known for its produce. It’s called, Keefer’s, and we’ve been stopping there for years. There’s a restaurant and a motel next door.

The food is good and with a homemade taste. The waitresses call you, “Honey.” Grams’ favourite thing is the gift shop. Big Guy’s favourite is the Cobb salad, and mine is the fruit salad (that and the way the waitresses fuss over me).

So, as we pulled off the highway yesterday for lunch, we were looking forward to our regular Keefer’s meals. The first clue that we should have known something was amiss was the billboard for a new diner a few miles before, but we paid no heed. Then, as we pulled into the parking lot, Grams said, “Look there’s that diner sign, it’s not Keefer’s anymore!” “No, no, look, there’s the 'Keefer’s Inn' sign,” said Big Guy. But, as we got closer to the front door we saw a big diner sign. Looks were exchanged. Brows were furrowed.

Once inside, the place looked the same. The gift shop was still there, much to Grams’ relief. The waitresses were still the same, much to my relief. The menu, however, had changed. I thought Big Guy’s eyes were getting teary as he searched in vain for the Cobb salad. I’ll admit to shedding a few tears over the lack of a fruit salad.

With heavy hearts, we ordered our meals. Then Big Guy said, “look! The mural is still there!” We turned around and Grams looked at me and I knew what she wanted. I got the camera out and she took these photos of the famous Keefer’s mural. It’s wonderful and silly. It was a large part of the reason that the food tasted so good, I’m sure.

We ate our meals morosely. The fresh green salad was quite good, but poor Big Guy didn’t enjoy his meal at all. He had spent the better part of 50 miles thinking about that Cobb salad. We did find out that the mural will stay, as will the waitresses.

Change is good, except when it isn’t.

A la prochaine. Moochas smoochas,

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

Canto del fettuccine Alfredo Originale

Before we went to Roma the first time, Grams’ Mum said that we had to go to the Original Alfredo Restorante. She couldn’t remember where it was except that it was near the Spanish Steps. She had been there 30 years earlier and had fond memories of it. Grams was determined to find it. We went to the Piazza di Spagna(where the Spanish Steps are). Looking around we didn’t see anything Alfredo. Then Grams spied the American Express office, “You boys wait here, I'll go ask at the Amex office, and off she ran. I took this picture of Big Guy waiting by the fountain in the Piazza.

A few minutes later, Grams came running back. “I’ve got it! We walk over to the Via della Croce turn left, and when we get to the end of it, just dog-leg off to the right and go straight ahead and ‘Bob’s your uncle’ you’re there! I have to admit it: she was right.

We entered the restorante and there was an immediate feeling of being welcomed. The waiters and staff all wanted to wait on us. Everyone wanted a picture with me. They made me feel like a celebrity.

The interior of the restorante is an ode to the Art Deco movement. It is amazing. When we weren’t taking pictures of me, we were just gobsmacked by the décor. When my plate of Famous Fettuccine Alfredo pasta arrived, it came with the gold flatware that Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks gave Alfredo back in 1927. Not everyone gets the gold flatware - I was honored.
We toasted Alfredo and Mary and Douglas with several glasses of wine. The Fettuccine Alfredo was fantastic. Grams has come close to recreating it, but to have the Originale Afredo can’t be beat.

During the midst of the festivities, a phalanx of security people arrived. There was one fellow who had on a loden green duffle coat and Grams elbowed me and whispered in my ear, “Gweeds, he’s got a gun under that coat!” I almost spit out my wine.

After the security people had searched the place, they went back outside and brought in a man and woman and teenage girl. “I know who he is,” said Grams, “he’s the U.S. Ambassador to the Vatican.” Just then the owner came over for his picture.

When we finished up, I whipped out my gold card. The gold card always get folks excited, can’t figure out why. Then, Grams looked up: the Ambassador was motioning us. She pointed to me. He nodded, yes. “It’s a long story,” she said smiling. “So, cut to the close up,” he replied. We toddled over to his table.

Grams told him and his family the story of how we met. Then, he noticed my little red, white, and blue ribbon pin that Grams’ friend Masaye made for me. “I have something for you!” he said. He started searching through his pockets. His wife started going through her purse. “I know where there’s one!” he said and jumped up. He ran past the phalanx of security out to his car. A minute or so later he returned, beaming, carrying a little pin. It was an American flag crossing a Vatican flag. “I had these made up!” he said as he pinned it on my shirt next to my ribbon pin. “I’ll wear it forever,” I said. And I have. It’s still on my shirt, next to my ribbon pin.

A la prochaine. Moochas smoochas,

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

L'Originale Alfredo di Roma Recipe

Boiling salted water
1 handful Fettuccine
1 c. butter, softened
1/3 to 1/2 c. freshly grated Parmesan cheese
1 pinch Nutmeg (Grams’ secret addition)
Freshly cracker pepper

Drop fettuccine into water and cook until fettuccine comes to the surface (approximately 2 minutes). Drain and place in a warm bowl in which half the softened butter has been placed.

Top with lumps of remaining butter and cheese. Toss lightly (2 minutes) until fettuccine is well coated and a creamy sauce has formed. Add pepper and additional cheese. Serves 4.

Siste, viator*

Grams was very cheery when she came home from the library today. “Lucia’s going to Roma in April! You need to write something about Roma!" I’ve written about Roma a lot. Of course there’s always more about Roma and Lucia is a nice person.

This picture is of the fountain that’s in front of the Pantheon in Roma. The fountain amuses me. What are those 2 fish saying to the fellow in the middle? “Hey, Sweetcheeks, what’s with the spitting?” The plaque says that it was restored in 1800. Someone has left a rose in the shell at the center front.

Grams was impressed with ceiling of the Pantheon, but other than tombs, there’s nothing else in it. Back on the piazza, there was a musical duo: a man was playing an accordion and a woman was playing the violin. I don’t remember who was the first to spot the gelato shop across the piazza, but Grams, Big Guy and I hotfooted it over there. They had gelato in every flavor. I was steaming up the glass as Grams got her gelato. I still couldn’t decide. Big Guy got a vanilla. Everyone turned to me: I got lemon. Oooooh, heaven! We walked outside and sat on the edge of the fountain eating gelato, while the accordion and violin played away. “Three coins in a fountain, each one bringing happiness . . .”

Just another perfect day in Roma. Arrivederci Lucia!

A la prochaine. Moochas smoochas,

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

*wait traveler

A wee drappie whisky, oh when I am wearied Ma blood it will warm, my spirits will cheer For when I sit doon, I intend to be merry Come fill up a bumper and hand it round here.*

What on earth is that picture?!? Well, it’s a bronze relief of Edinburgh. It gives you an idea of the layout of the city of Edinburgh. Now, that hill in the mid-lower right has Edinburgh Castle on top. The hill is what’s left of a volcano. Are you surprised that there’s an extinct volcano in the middle of Edinburgh? I was.

You can see from the relief why the castle was built up on the hill: it was strictly strategic. There was also a moat around the castle for most of its history but that’s been filled in and there’s a lovely park there now.
It’s also where the trains come in and leave Edinburgh.

The Scott Monument pays homage to one of Scotland’s greatest writers and a hero, Sir Walter Scott (wrote 'Ivanhoe' remember how, in high school, you had to slog through it right after 'Silas Marner' or 'The Scarlet Letter?) in that he found the Honours – the Crown Jewels. It’s quite a massive thing sitting there on Prince’s street.
It’s a funny thing about the Honours, in Edinburgh Castle you go through a whole big ‘strum und drang’ about the Honours; but by the time you get to the actual honours well it’s a wee bit of a let down. But it is a jolly romp through Scottish history.

Down the road from the castle is the Whiskey Heritage Centre – free testers and a ride in a whiskey barrel. ‘Nuff said.

So good night to you all, I think it's but reason,
Altho' that the whisky speaks lood in my ear
Good night and safe home, till farther occasion
We'll a' meet in friends and hae a drap mair.*

A la prochaine. Moochas smoochas,

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

*A Wee Drap o’ Whiskey – old Scottish tune

"The walls of this town are full of renown, and strangers delight to walk round 'em . . ."

Chester is about 20 miles south-south-east from Liverpool, as the crow flies. It traces its history back to the Romans. This is as good a time as any to point out the irony of some of the lyrics in “Rule Britannia” – the part that says, ‘Britons never, never will be slaves.’ Well, when the Romans were in Britain, the Britons were slaves, and they were slaves for a really long time. The Romans founded Chester around 2,000 years ago and they didn’t leave until 400 years later.

The Romans left a few things behind when they de-camped. So, Chester is the only city with an intact Roman Wall surrounding it in all of Britain. It also has a really big Roman amphitheatre, which is still being excavated. As a matter of fact, archaeologists keep finding more Roman artifacts all the time.

But, that’s not why I was thinking about Chester. Chester happens to have some of the best 17th century timber-framed buildings. Also, during the Industrial Revolution a series of canals were dredged. This added a whole new feeling to the city, and these are the parts I enjoy the most. When we came out of the Frog and Nightingale pub (after an excellent meal), we walked on the quayside along the canal. It was here we saw these swans. All swans in England, that are free, belong to the Queen. Seems like an oxymoron, but don’t go messing about with them. HM is very serious about her swans.

Our friend Emlyn has swans, but they’re his swans. So there.

A la prochaine. Moochas smoochas,

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

*"The walls of this town are full of renown, and strangers delight to walk round 'em, but as for the dwellers, both buyers and sellers, for me, you may hang 'em or drown 'em" - Jonathan Swift (you had to know that Swift would have a different take on things).

Chocolat le matin

How do the French do it? Chocolate in the morning. Hot cocoa, pain chocolat, gaufre au chocolat. What a way to start a day!

Henri took to it very fast. So did Mousie. As you can see Mousie went right into Henri’s cocoa.

Henri, Henri’s Mama and I would go for the pain chocolat. Big Guy and Grams had the croissants. Then, there’s the coffee. Boy do the French know how to make coffee. Now here’s a shocker: even the MacDonalds’ in Paris has great coffee. Let that sink in. Mickey D’s has great coffee and free WiFi. No one hassles you to order anything while you log on, but a cuppa joe makes the time spent very nice.

Paris itself is very WiFi’d. However, when you ask about WiFi availability you need to say, “WeeFee.” Otherwise people will look at you funny and shake their heads.

So, between chocolate, coffee and WeeFee; Paris has a lock on good tastes and technology.

A la prochaine. Moochas smoochas,

Please give what you can to Medecins sans Frontiers (Doctors without Borders).

Gaufre au Chocolat in the morning

While we’re on the theme of food, here is one of my favorites: a Belgian waffle with melted French chocolate on top. There are stands all over Paris offering Crepes and Gaufre. The crepes can be filled with all sorts of delicious things: preserves, Nutella, or whatever you want that’s yummy. The Gaufres (Waffles) can have powdered sugar on top, or Nutella, or chocolate.

What the heck is Nutella? Well, it’s an acquired taste. The makers say that “Nutella® spread is the creamy, chocolaty hazelnut spread that tastes great any time of day, as part of a quick snack or a delicious meal.” It’s not exactly peanut butter and everyone in Europe loves it.

Now, the crepes are huge and made on big round dome-like grills. You tell the cook what you want on your crepe and when it’s done they spread your choice on. Then they fold it in quarters so it looks like a large triangle, wrap a napkin around and, Bob’s your uncle, you have a treat!

The gaufres, well you can see, they are beyond a treat: they are heaven. Grams got this for me on the edge of the Place de la Concorde just as we were going into the Tuileries. We sat down on a bench and I just about swallowed it whole. Oh heaven! Chocolate and Paris, together that is heaven!

A la prochaine. Moochas smoochas,

Please give what you can to Medecins sans Frontiers (Doctors without Borders).