Goodbye Blogger

I am leaving Blogger behind. Due to the recent problems with my blog being down for a week, and then my being unable to update or change the template once it was restored, I have decided to move on and get my own domain name and web page.

You can find me here.

This has been fun, but I don't want to use a beta product. I have found, like many others, that I enjoy blogging, so now I will not only be able to blog, but host my own pictures so I don't have to continue to use

Miami Trip Report – Day 3

Day 3, the last day of my long weekend.

Before I start the story, let me point out what a geek I am. I am currently writing this using the new Microsoft Word 2003 Blog Post feature. Apparently I can write here and have the post, with pictures, automatically upload to my blog. Let’s see how this works....

Thought I slept in on Saturday? Not a chance, for the first time in years I woke up at 10:30 am. My text messages were going crazy starting at 4:45 (1:45 in California, last call!), and I ignored them. But, before getting out of bed, I decided to text the jeweler to brag that I was in Miami as I knew he would be up and would be jealous. I then attempted to get out of bed. I say attempted because I was dizzy. That was strange as I wasn’t drunk on Saturday night, didn’t have a hangover, and felt fine. I think my body was just trying to adjust to dancing the night away and sleeping in late.

The second thing I noticed? My feet hurt. Really, I did some damage in those heels. In fact, I had one toe that was numb for over a week.

Took a shower and decided not to do my hair as I was hungry. I love Miami. My hair never looked so good curly (except hurricane season in Virginia). Love the humidity. Text Bev to let her know I was up and she called right back to say that she and MM had a surprise for me, brunch at the best Indian restaurant on The Beach. They came to get me and we then walked over to Guru. It was quite a long walk, which was awesome as I got to see some of the famous deco buildings, and we all know I love a long walk, especially on a beautiful day.

Breakfast was good, and the owner (whose name I have forgotten) came out to greet us. I think I will now refer to him as the Mayor of South Beach as I had met him on Friday night on Lincoln Road, and someone pointed out that he was the nicest guy and loved to meet people. Breakfast was good, but the conversation was better, and as we were packing it up one of MM’s friends came in with the intent to write, but instead we all hang out, ate more, and had even more conversation!

Then, we went to hang out at MM’s place for a while. Bev and I were so tired and so full that she later apologized to me for being such a bad conversationalist as we lay on the couch. She thought that she wasn’t making any sense and talking in non-sequiters, but I understood everything she said. Which makes me either crazy or just as tired. We then split up as they went to a party and I went to go pick up the credit card I had left at The Standard. Then back to Bev’s for a nap and some housecleaning....

Sounds like a boring day? Maybe, but it was perfect. It is so rare that I have the opportunity to sleep in, laze around, and not be a slave to my schedule or errands or to this or that event. And, the day was filled with great conversation. Is there a better way to spend a day than being lazy and talking with the people you can never get bored of talking to?

The plan for the evening was to go see Mater Natura at the Italian Film Festival, then go to the after party at the club next door. N is a volunteer at the film festival and had tickets and passes for everything. But, the entire city was wiped out from Saturday’s festivities and no one wanted to see a 9:00 movie as it was too late. So, we decided to see Che ne sara di noi (What Will Become of Us). Grace (not her real name, but she is a model with the same unspoiled beauty as Grace Kelly) joined us at the theater. So did MM. I mention this because Bev and I took a cab to the theater, and walking down the street I saw a guy from behind that looked like MM. I asked the cab driver to stop, and Bev was so tired she didn’t know what was going on and told him to go. I told her that Mike was walking behind us and asked if he has an iPod, and she said yes. She asked what he was wearing and I said a plaid shirt, and she said, “Oh, he doesn’t do plaid.” Wrong. It was him when we got to the theatre.

The movie was great, and I posted a review on Passion for Cinema, which I will repost here later. Then, off to dinner, where Grace’s boyfriend joined us. More fun conversation – and there is nothing better than discussing movies with other movie fans, especially when they (meaning MM) have a completely different, interesting and worthwhile take on what happened with the characters and how they were portrayed. We walked back home, and I then put on some sandals and took a long walk. I was too excited to sleep, the night was warm and beautiful, and I just wanted to enjoy it a little bit more before leaving the next morning.

I love Miami. I love Bev’s friends and the friends that I made there. I love the homes, the vibe, the food. I would move there tomorrow except that I hate the weather (and, as Bev pointed out, Miami has no good independent music scene). And, I loved this weekend. I can’t wait to go back….

Random pictures. You can see all the pictures here.

Not a great picture, but I love the fact that the sky is so beautiful














Cute couple














Street scene














One day I will be a famous plant photographer. One day....















Oh, and by the way, I wasn’t able to successfully upload this blog to blogspot from Word....

Overheard....

I feel bad for posting Overheard stuff here, but sometimes they just must be reposted! Especially since I know two of you who read this blog will be thrilled by these two gems....

Those who Bootleg History Are Doomed to Profit From It

20-something Chinese guy: You know what? Chinese people discovered America.

20-something Black guy: Bullshit.

20-something Chinese guy: It's true! There's an article on CNN showing we discovered America, there are maps. Chinese were here first before everyone else. Chinese people did everything before everyone else. White people take credit for everything, but now it's coming out that Chinese made all of these discoveries first. Don't you see a pattern? We're the shit.

20-something Black guy: The only pattern I see is that you motherfuckers pirate and resell every DVD, and now you're trying to bootleg history.

--Chinatown

Overheard by: Ricky
via Overheard in New York, Oct 22, 2006


Jeez, You Don't Have to Blow up about It

Very drunk suit: Hey, bartender! Do you know what a car bomb is?

Irish bartender: Yes, it's Spanish for, 'you're an asshole.'

--3rd Ave

via Overheard in New York, Oct 20, 2006

What's New This Week

What a strange week. I have enough stories to fill a book, yet I ended up spending most of the week in bed asleep as this cold has kicked my ass, and the cough and stuffy nose are lingering on and on and on. I spent today laying around the house as I am still feeling sick and really want to shake this thing, even though today was one of the most beautiful days of the year...So, here is the short list of what has been going on in my life and in my mind....

Watching Movies
So, here is the partial list of what I watched this week, with short reviews. I say partial because I am leaving out the old "classics" that I watched on TCM. Someone should let the program manager at TCM know that "old" is not synonymous with "classic", sometimes old is just old….

The Red Violin. Decent movie, nothing special, but entertaining. I love Joshua Bell and therefore was entranced listening to this film.

Baazigar. I really didn't like this film. Love SRK, love the basic premise, but just didn't buy the idea that a hero is someone who can kill innocent people and found the movie too violent at the end.

The Stink of Flesh. The ending was lame, but this movie rocked. How do you live an alternative lifestyle when everyone is dead? Watch this movie and find out how these people do it.

Sense and Sensibility. Seen it before and liked it enough to see it again. Really, this should be the template for adapting classic literature to film.

Centre Stage, 1992. Biography of Ruan Ling-yu, China's first major female movie star of the silent film era. The subtitles sucked and the idea of trying to create a biography based on classic movie scenes, interviews and dramatizations of her life didn't work, but I will hit Amazon tomorrow to see if I can find a book of her life as she is fascinating. I will also hit netflix to see if I can find any of her old movies….

Don. Read the reviews elsewhere, why should I add to the millions of voices on the blogosphere that have already written about this film?

Making Movies
I have a lead on two new movies, which I am stoked about as they are both projects I would love to be attached to. I also did something I have never done before, yesterday I worked as a PA on a movie in which I knew no one. This was strange as I am so used to making movies with my friends, so it was an awkward feeling to walk onto a set and not know anyone. But that was the point, I wanted to work with people I hadn't worked with before for the experience and to see how it would feel.

I knew the two main actors have worked on TV shows and movies that I am familiar with but have never watched, but didn't realize that they were "big" until people started walking up to us during the outdoor portion of the shoot and asked for autographs and pictures. I texted my 14 year old niece to find out who these guys were and she was thrilled that I was working with them.

About the shoot? I feel as if I did nothing. The producer on this shoot had his shit together, and he and the AD know each other really well and ran the shoot like clockwork. That said, I guess I did a good job as the producer told me that he would give me Producer's Assistant credit instead of PA credit on the film. This was based more on the fact that I have experience and was able to help in a couple of situations where he needed me, but more than anything what I got out of the shoot (other than meeting some really great people) was the realization that I am ready to move on and begin working on larger and more diverse projects, and that I really no longer feel like an upstart when working on a set. It was a really good day.

The film is a demo short based on a feature project, and I can't wait for the feature to be made. The actors were all brilliant. Most of the scenes were improvised, and it was all any of us could do to keep from laughing out loud while tape was rolling. I will get copy once it is done, and as part of my library most of you reading this will be subjected to watching it!

Weight Watch
As I go through the Miami pictures I am struck by how thin I have become, I had quit noticing it, but it is obvious in the pictures, even after gaining weight last month in Virginia. I took off my suit jacket at work one day last week, and had someone gasp when they saw my arms. The worst part, I have lost eight pounds in the last two weeks and am thinner than those pictures. I wish that someone could help me with this issue, it is no longer funny, it is no longer healthy (who the hell gets a cold so severe it keeps them in bed for a week?), and I would really like to buy some clothes that fit well. I have to reenroll in my health plan next week, and I think it is time to budget for a nutritionist, as well as a new doctor....

New Words
I need to find some way to make this a regular feature and give New Words its own link. Bev, JR and I have long made up new words based on existing words that are funny. This weekend's word is by L, who didn't make up a new word but twisted an old one to make a new one; Nostradumbass, used to describe an acquaintance who recently made some strange, random and nonsensical prediction about her future....

Heartache
I have had my heart broken by the most amazing person I have been lucky to know. What is strange about writing about this is that he was my secret; Bev and @ are the only friends I told about him. That said, while I never had the chance to shout to the world that I had fallen so hard for this person, I now feel the need to share my heartache. He is the most beautiful, amazing and intelligent person, and the first person since CC and I split twelve years ago that I have fallen for. He is also one of the most conflicted people I have ever met, and yet even that is part of the whole package that makes him so wonderful.

I can live with the heartache, it will pass. But I keep thinking about a quote I recently read in a book review, a quote by a famous author whose name I have now forgotten. Talking about the end of a relationship in his biography, he stated that what is horrible about the end of a relationship is knowing that someone you care for has looked deep inside of you and found you lacking. Well, I found someone who has all the characteristics and qualities that I have ever wanted, whom I am more physically attracted to than any other man I have ever known, who smoothed away my tomboy tendencies and sarcastic edge when we were together. The person who I gave and gave to, never wanting anything in return but the chance to support him, to massage his feet while watching TV, to scratch his back when he was tired, to wrap my body around his and hold him tight when he was down, to stand behind him as he pursued his dreams and dreamt of new pursuits.

And, he found me lacking.

I am now am now filled with self-doubt, insecurity, and all kinds of strange, negative feelings that my usually over-confident self has no idea how to process....

Well, that's a wrap. More Miami pictures and stories coming soon....

Pedro Almodovar, Spanish Auteur

I have decided to start cross-posting some of the movie reviews and commentary that I write for Passion for Cinema here on my blog. I am also cross-posting it on my Blogger Beta test blog, but really, that isn't too interesting as of yet and a completely different post. Maybe someday I will backtrack and post some of the movie reviews I have written here and post them on Passion for Cinema....

Here is my tribute to Pedro Almodovar. Really, it was twice as long in its original form, but I need to learn to be less wordy....

He has trivialized rape. Made insane people and the abhorrent things that they do appear normal. Turned violence into farce. Exorcised the demons of his Catholic school days. Glorified sadomasochism and sexual perversion. Blurred the lines of sexuality. Made drug usage comedic. Celebrated the strong women who raised him by creating strong female characters in his films. Explored the themes of family and the lengths that mothers and children will go in order to protect each other, and the different types of love and hate that are the foundation of family units. Treated homosexuality and his homosexual characters as characters, neither exploiting nor celebrating them. Made feminist movies. Made international film stars out of his muses and lovers, both male and female. And, made extremely beautiful, watchable films based on some of the most disturbing premises imaginable. And, to celebrate the US release of his new movie "Volver" (Spain's submission for Best Foreign Film in this year's Academy Awards), there are simultaneous film festivals in both New York and Los Angeles to showcase the films of Pedro Almodovar.

I was a teenager when "Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios" (Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown), was released, and I was completely entranced by this story of a woman who has been wronged by her lover and, in hunting him down, encounters his other lovers, exes, and even his child. A terrorist subplot and a mass drugging are offered up as comedy, women (some who look like cross-dressers) are driven crazy by love, connections are known to us but not to the movie's characters, and all along you are led to believe that a woman's attempt to save a life are altruistic, but the plot twist at the end delivers a message of female empowerment within the setting of attempted murder, with no selflessness involved. What a powerful message for someone on the verge of womanhood, and filmed in stunning colours on stunning sets than enhanced the mania of the multiple plot threads. I began to explore his earlier movies, and found that they contained many of the same themes, although not so much so that they became predictable or boring....

Then (after another masterpiece !Atame! (Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down!")) came "Tacones lejanos" (High Heels). While still dealing with the same themes of his earlier movies, this one is a departure from the campy comedies I had become familiar with; instead this was a more mature movie, dealing with the lengths a mother will go to protect her daughter, even after abandoning the same daughter while she was still young. While still funny and farcical, this was also a tearjerker that includes the best musical score used in any of his films (personal opinion), as well as introduced me to one of the worlds most beautiful and fabulous actresses, Marisa Paredes. "Todo sobre mi madre" (All About My Mother) is probably Almodovar's best known movie (and won the Academy Award for Best Foreign Film), and High Heels has been described as his training wheels for All About My Mother, but while the basic premises of the two movies are similar, High Heels is Almodovar at his most beautiful.

If I were to create a Top 10 list of the movie scenes that moved me the most, Almodovar holds two places on the list, one of them being the scene at the end of High Heels where Marisa Parades' character, a famous singer, sings the Mexican torch song "Piense en me", crying and taking a last bow. I still tear up when I hear this song, and still think of his amazing use of the colour red to convey the longing and the love of her character in this film.

The other Top 10 scene is from "Hable con ella" (Talk to Her). Lydia (Rosario Flores) is critically injured in a bullfight, and while I can't stand violence (even punches in a movie will cause me to look away) I watched this scene probably five times when I rented this film, one of the rare times I have ever viewed a scene over and over again due to its sheer beauty. And, to me, this movie highlights the genius of Almodovar. It is a disturbing film, not dealing with his usual theme of women who go to extremes for love but about two men who do so, and the horrible things they do to express their love. Once again he deals with dark themes, and I found the relationship between the rapist Benigno (Javier Cámara), and Marco (Darío Grandinetti), a journalist driven to despair by his love for Lydia uncomfortable. But, this is Almodovar's genius, creating unsympathetic characters and not turning them into heroes or villains, but people whose motivations you can understand and accept as they make their difficult decisions in the name of love. This movie is amazing because it also highlights Almodovar's ability to use symbolism to showcase the emotions of his characters without being overbearing or obvious (and won the Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay.)

Almodovar's tells sensational stories without sensationalizing his characters. He creates extremely flawed characters and then allows you to feel sympathy for them. He makes visually stunning films, using gorgeous music and the beauty of the actors he collaborates with, and locations and sets captured in amazing colours and with a passionate love of the landscape and cityscapes of Spain. In the US, Almodovar's two best known actors are Penelope Cruz and Antonio Banderas, and from watching any Hollywood film they have made you would never know what genius actors they are, how brilliant they are when working with Almodovar.

And now, he is once again collaborating with Penelope Cruz in Volver. Not only Penelope, a woman who he has professed his infatuation for in interviews, but Carmen Maura (his original and earliest muse), Lola Duenas, and Chus Lampreave, women who I have come to love from his other films. This is a movie about death that once again revisits his familiar themes of rape, incest, the power of love to make women strong, and the relationships between mothers, daughters and families. Last spring it won the Best Actress Award at the Cannes Film Festival for all SIX starring actresses, showcasing the fact that he is a woman's filmmaker, a man who loves women and who creates strong, compelling female characters, even though his love for women is expressed through non-traditional stories. And, non-traditional they are. Feminist groups in the US have boycotted his films, and I myself have been disturbed by some of his characters actions and motivations. But, even though I have written about the darkness of the themes of his movies, they are uplifting films that in the end are about hope, love, redemption, and oftentimes new beginnings.

I am counting the days until I can see Volver here in Los Angeles and once again spend time in a darkened theatre, entranced by the vision of a filmmaker who has this time decided to tackle the topic of death through the stories of three generations of women. I know I will get upset. I know at times I will be puzzled by the motivations of his characters. And, I know I will see a beautifully filmed, magnificent story about admirable women and at some point I will cry and be reminded of my own convoluted relationship with my mother and wish that she were there with me to share the experience.

Miami Trip Report - Day 2

I rarely if ever sleep in later than 7:00 am, so it was a surprise when I woke up at 8:30! Then, back to Taste for coffee and breakfast and catching up. I miss having Bev close to me so badly when we are together, there is a comfort in spending time with the people who you love and can never get enough of....

Then, off to The Standard for an afternoon of pampering. Bev's friend "N" was already there when we arrived for our manicures, and she was adorable although in some altered state of reality. No, not a chemical induced one, but one caused by the fact that a pedicure and massage at the Standard is quite possibly one of the most mind-numbing relaxing experiences, ever. Not the nicest or most expensive spa I have ever been to, but definitely the best. If you ever make it to Miami, book a manicure and pedicure with Cindy, she is the awesome. She is cute, sweet, funny, and gives brilliant massages. I don't know what she did, but she even made my legs look good (any of you who have ever seen my legs knows how hard that is!) Hell, I have her phone number if you need to book an appointment....

N caught us up on her life while we tried to talk her into joining us at the Carnival Center for the Performing Arts opening that night, and she finally decided to do so and go as my date. After our nails were done, we retired to the pool where N ate lunch and Bev and I engaged in topless sunbathing. Yup, I officially wasn't in California anymore!

Then, time to go home and get ready for the big event! Now, Bev has one of the strangest houses that you have ever seen. Not now, but ever since I have known her. Because, she doesn't have mirrors outside of the bathroom and she doesn't have clocks. None. Even the clock on the oven is not set. And, because it takes me an hour to blow-dry my hair straight, I took a shower first. She stepped out of her shower wondering how I was blow-drying my hair with no mirror and laughed to see me on my knees on her couch using one of her pictures as a mirror. Yup, I really didn't want to go out with curly hair….

Then, off to pick up "MM", her new guy, and head to the center. I was looking forwarding to spending time with him as Bev has spent months talking about him, and even though I meet him the night before, we didn't have much time to talk, and I was embarrassed because when he met us at dinner I immediately spilled water all over myself and then proceeded to open the conversation with a joke – which bombed. This night I would redeem myself. Bev has been gushing about this guy for months and I really didn't want him to think her friends from home were clumsy and unfunny...

Cocktails and appetizers at the opening event of the center, and while we knew it was a dressy event, it was dressier than anyone expected. I kept hearing comments that no one had ever been to an event in Miami that was so classy or dressy, and most men were in tuxes and most women in evening gowns (with some ball gowns thrown in). To add to the "it doesn't make sense" category, there were women in furs. In Miami. When the temperature was in the 70's. Huh? While we may have been "underdressed", we were certainly the most fashionable as we were both in fabulous vintage, Bev in a dress that I alternately described as "Hilo Hattie Couture", and "a tacky polyester 1970's Polynesian dress that is neither tacky or polyester" and I a vintage blue silk cocktail dress.

Bev and her great dress














Me in my great dress














During cocktails, John & Theresa Kerry walked in and stood near us. MM, thinking fast, handed N his camera, quickly approached Mr. Kerry and asked for a picture before anyone could stop him or realized that the hoi polloi had moved in. Priceless. N wanted a picture too, but MM had timing on his side, and for the rest of the evening, even though we tried, we couldn't get close to him again....

MM and John Kerry
























Oh, and my date, well since she will read this, I should tease her more and point out that she ditched me. Almost immediately. But, I didn't mind. In one of the sweetest things I have seen in ages, within minutes of us getting our first glasses of wine, MM's friend Nic showed up. Within 15 minutes, he and N were in their own world. It is so wonderful to see two people make an instant connection, and I (along with a hundred other people) got to witness their first kiss, on a balcony at the Center overlooking the decorated patio....

My date and I














The girls














Then, on to see the show. The show was a montage of upcoming shows playing at the Center, opening with Harvey Fierstein "singing" If I Were a Rich Man from Fiddler on the Roof. I say "singing", because even though he is an Icon and Legend, I think he may have been either sick or he is ready for retirement. Then, the Opera company did a scene from "La Boheme", which was flat and unexciting as apparently the Center has some acoustic issues to work out, including dead spots on the stage. The Ballet Company did a scene from "Little Red Riding Hood", and then more and more and more and on and on. I wish the Center the best, and what I saw was good enough to not prevent me from attending other events, but really this was boring and uninteresting. Except for the ballet, which is amazing as I usually hate ballet but the choreographer did very interesting work, incorporating folk dance with the traditional ballet....

After the show, we had tickets for the opening party. But, there were two parties, one a $1,500 a plate fete for Miami's movers and shakers, and one sponsored by the Green Room Society, a group of young professionals who are also young patrons of the Center, really the next generation of sponsors and movers and shakers in Miami society. Following Bev, we entered the after party in a humongous tent, decorated with the most beautiful floral arrangements I have ever seen, actually one of the best rooms I have ever seen, grabbed drinks at the complimentary bar, then headed for the dance floor where we began dancing to the jazz band while the crowd worked to find their tables. There were many photographers and camera crews there, and one camera crew isolated Bev, asked her some questions, and took pictures of her. Turns out it was Town & Country magazine, leading to multiple jokes about the fact that she is probably the first Asian that they have ever photographed, and to her joking that now she needs to convert and become Episcopalian. We were then approached by a beautiful, young blonde girl who introduced herself to us and asked to dance with us. She was a college student bored out of her mind by the older crowd and was happy to find other young people to hang out with. Almost immediately, the hosts announced that it was time to take our seats, and at that point we made a beeline for the exit. What most of us weren't aware of is that Bev purposefully took us to the wrong party, we were at the Gala Benefit and not the Green Room party! Party crashing with the rich and famous, and then stealing the show from them! This is why I miss Bevvy here at home! Although, I felt very sad for the blonde girl who now had to spend the rest of the night with the powerful and boring....

Green Room party. We got there just as DJ Irie began his set, and the crowd went wild. As a foreigner, I wasn't aware that he is the official DJ of the Miami Heat, and Miami loves him (I can see why, BTW, he is very, very good). My blood sugar had plummeted and I felt like crap, so I ditched everyone to go get free sushi, yes, free sushi, and damn good sushi at that! I then took a long walk until my blood sugar felt better and then joined everyone else on the dance floor. What can I say about the party, it was fun. Miami's young, fabulous and fun were all there. I danced until my feet hurt. I met "M", who is quite possibly one of the coolest women I have met in years. I laughed hysterically as a Beasty Boys song came on and MM and one of his friends (I feel so bad that I forgot his name, I had brunch with him the next day and he is incredibly wonderful) simultaneously broke into the white boy shuffle. I ate more than my share of free dessert. I flirted with the sweetest bartender in Miami, and even though I forgot his name I will never forget his smile. M and I grabbed stools, sat in the middle of the party, and critiqued the dresses of the dowagers who began to pour in from the Gala bash (really, if you are over 35, you should never go braless. Period.)

The picture shown without permission from http://www.coolpoolevents.com.

Beverly
















Then, we were all getting tired and bored, so it was on to the next stop. As we were walking out of the party, Bev turned to look at us and had "the look", you know, the look that says, "I'm done." M grabbed me and pointed out that the night wasn't over, and as a guest I needed to see more. So, it was off to Sky Bar. This I loved, a beautiful, warm, cloudless night on a beautiful patio wearing beautiful clothes and flirting with Gurbreet, the only bartender that night to make me a drink that really tasted good. I was with N, and we were waiting for a couple of her friends to meet us there, and two guys approached us at one point and I realized while we were talking to them that she is quite possibly the sweetest person I have ever met (kind of like I was until I turned 35), she has nothing bad to say ever, even when there is something bad to say....

N's friends found us, M and Nic joined us, and after a drink we were off to the next bar, Ted's Hideaway, Miami's finest dive bar. How can you not love a night that begins at a high-society gala bash, takes you to one of Miami's nicest clubs, and then ends at a dive bar?

As a tourist, things in Miami are strange. I have never seen so much open sexuality, nor have I ever seen a place where the women call the shots the way they do there. A woman can sleep with who she wants and not lose her reputation, and a woman who sleeps with who she wants can pick and choose who she wants to date and who she wants to fuck, and the guys go along with their decisions, dating the girls who want to date them and fucking the ones that choose to sleep with them. And me, with my Victorian morals, felt very, very out of place. In another instance of how things are stranger there than home, as we were walking out of Sky Bar, M saw two guys she thought looked interesting, so I walked over to them and asked them to join us at Ted's. They said no. Wow. In California two average looking guys like these two would have jumped at the chance to go to the next bar with two girls who look like us (did I mention that M is amazingly gorgeous?), but Miami is a different world....

Ted's? It is dive bar, and like all the best dive bars has a jukebox with some gems. M and I took a seat at the bar, and then she told me not to look around as we were the only two women there at that point. It was freaking hilarious, like the gopher game where heads keep popping up and you have to use a mallet to knock them down. The not-so brave were twisting their necks trying to make eye contact, and the brave were coming up with some of the lamest approaches ever, including the guy who looked at M's dress with metal studs and asked her how she made it through the metal detector at the entrance of the bar to make it in (there is no metal detector there). When we didn't laugh, he joked about us not getting the joke, but we really did, although it was so bad it wasn't even laughably bad...BTW, do not get the idea that Ted's is the place to meet lots of guys, these guys looked as if they had been there all day and were old enough to be our fathers, at least until about 3:00 am when the place began to fill with the people who live in that part of The Beach stopping for one last drink before going home.

N's friend took over the jukebox, and I missed Bevvy badly as he played some Orange County bands and Weezer. We danced until about 4:00, and then it was time to go home....

More pictures. Another view from Bev's patio














I don't know if it is appropriate that I post this here, but really, the next picture is of the cutest couple in the world. This probably isn't the place to write this because both of them read this blog, but really, what are friends for but to make you blush. I was so excited to meet MM, I have never heard Bev talk about a guy like she talks like him. After meeting him, I was so excited. The world is filled with amazing men, but how often is it that one of your most amazing friends meets one of those amazing men, and they become even more amazing together....

Bev & MM

Buy the Farm! Become a Movie Producer: +new video / trailer

We're neck deep in blood and guts as we slash our way through post-production…

As you may or may not know, every cent that is contributed helps! This is a low-budget, high definition, high quality movie! People (and zombies) will be blown away by the effects (especially the computer generated effects in the movie)!

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Weekend Wrap Up

Home again home again, with no trips planned, no vacation days left, and waiting for the next weird bomb to drop. Really, the last six weeks have been the strangest of my life, and as much as I would like to hope that things would be different, I think the next six weeks will also be strange. I can’t talk about what is happening at work, but the family situation seems to have stabilized, and now only if my personal life would stabilize I would be less stressed. But, what the heart desires and what it deserves is not always the same thing, and I am a slave to my desires....

I have a cold. I haven’t had a cold in years. I refuse to acknowledge that I have one, life is too weird for me to feel comfortable taking some time off and nurturing myself, I need to get out of the house and reconnect with everyone and everything I have missed by spending so much time back east…

The next three posts on my trip to Miami are coming soon, I still can’t get over how much fun I had there and how wonderful it was to get to spend time with Beverly. That is the second time this year she has been in the right place at the right time when I needed her....

The new Grindhouse trailer is out. Not the official trailer, but a fake one. Check it out here, before it disappears – I know that it was pulled from youtube this week and I don’t want to host it here and deal with someone coming after me.

Why a fake trailer? The new Grindhouse movie is actually two, 60 minute films, one by Richard Rodriguez and one by Quentin Tarantino, that are tribute movies to slasher flicks, zombie flicks, and exploitation flicks, to be released together as a double-feature, just like movies used to be back when we all were kids. The fake trailers are being created to show between the films. There will be a series of them, and some of them were previewed in this first trailer.

FUCK YEAH!!! Zombies! Richard Rodriguez! Zombies! Naveen Andrews! The clip features scenes from Rodriguez’s portion, “Planet Terror”, and it looks as if he was watching a lot of Russ Meyers before he shot his portion of the film. The trailer also contains footage from “They Call Him Machete”, a fake movie starring Danny Trejo. Now, many of you know that Spy Kids is one of my favourite movies, and Machete was one of my favourite characters in the movie, and after seeing the Machete portion of the trailer I think I will begin stalking Richard Rodriguez and pester him until he makes They Call Him Machete into a real film, the footage rocked! Also, I have never understood why Rose McGowan is such a star and/or a sex object, but after watching this trailer my opinion about her is starting to change....

The tentative release date is April 2007. I can’t wait!!!

I am posting movie reviews on Passion for Cinema. Go check them out, as well as the other reviews as there are many amazing writers posting there. I am going to have to improve the quality of my writing to keep up, while I can talk movies for days, writing about them is a completely different story….

I have been thinking a lot the last few weeks about destiny, about predetermination, about fate. How many of the choices do we make are really ours to make? How many of our choices are influenced by many outside (or inside) factors that we can’t control, yet we think we are controlling our destinies when in actuality there are other forces of control. My grandmother chose her death, and it was longer and uglier than it should have been because while she was emotionally ready, she wasn’t physically ready. She succeeded, but I can’t help but think that she should have paid attention to the forces of nature which were telling her it really wasn’t her time. That has prompted me to think of my own place in the universe, and maybe that is why I have caught a cold, thinking too much about the unknowable while trying to control everything I can, and to not control the one thing that I should be controlling....

Miami Trip Report – Day 1

Trasie & Beverly October 2006!

Thursday afternoon, 3:00, Executive Conference Room. I a holding a Big, Important Meeting to present information on an Extremely Important Project I am working on to my Department Director and Managers. As we are waiting for the meeting to begin, Director asks if I have a holiday coming up. "Yes", I answer, "this weekend". He asks where I am going, and I answer "Miami". He knows when and where I am going, it has been on his calendar for over a month, but this is how he sets up jokes, and here he is setting one up for the room. "Are you going to see Bev?", "Yes", I answer once again. He grimaces and then asks that I please not get arrested and return on time on Tuesday as this project is too important for me to be gone. No worries, I assure him, my plans to go to Cuba on Sunday were cancelled because something else came up. The room laughs. Even those in the room who have never met Bev saw her the last time she showed up in my office at 2:30 in the afternoon one day last spring, and after spending time saying her hellos and catching up with my bosses took me to happy hour – at 3:00 in the afternoon. I love my Bevvy who loves to have a good time....

I ended up at work until 10:00 pm, ran home and packed, and only managed two hours sleep before I had to leave in the wee hours of the morning to get to the airport. Tired, I accidentally took the wrong freeway, losing 20 minutes. I then took a wrong turn at the airport, parking in the Lot from Hell instead of my favourite, covered parking garage. But, I overslept, wrong turns made me late, and LAX on a Friday morning before a long weekend is a bitch. By the time I made it through security I ended up being one of the last people to board the plane, and never did have time to get food or coffee. No worries as I was finally going to Miami! For years I have tried to get there, and every trip has been cancelled due to work conflicts or weather cancellations (damn hurricanes), but this trip nothing was going to go wrong!

I slept most of the flight, waking only to watch "The Devil Wears Prada", which was an unexpectedly good movie. After the movie I didn't wake up again until we were flying over Florida, and I was shocked. Really, I have never seen such a fragile looking ecosystem, let alone one with so much development on it. You watch the news and listen to the radio and know how susceptible the area is to hurricanes, but until you see it from above it is hard to believe just how vulnerable the land looks, and even more so after having been scared by large homes...

I land in Miami, check my messages, and Bev has been texting me all morning telling me how excited she is to see me, yeah! I check my voice mail messages, and there are two frantic messages from my mother, and I know that she is going to deliver bad news when I call back, so I don't call her. I will wait until I have time to catch up with Bev and I am over the flight hangover.

So, here I am in the Republic of South Beach, the 11'th largest city in Israel, and I am in love and amazed. Amazed that such a place has so much construction there is so much undeveloped land. In love because it is all beautiful, the ocean, the houses, the buildings, everything. Happy because I am riding in a car with Bev. I still haven't eaten, so I ask that we go someplace where I can get coffee and a snack. What I didn't expect is to stop by her place so she can valet park her car. Huh, yeah. Valet parking is normal in condo complexes in Miami Beach, and it is possible to go an entire weekend without driving. I drop my bag at her place and we walk to Taste, the coffee place where I usually get a hold of her as she eats breakfast on Sunday mornings. Still stunned about the valet parking, Bev points out that no one drives on "The Beach" (local slang for South Beach), you can walk or cab everywhere. I have always dreamed of living someplace where I don't have to drive a car, and never realized that this was the case at The Beach. Also, as we walk to Taste, I realize her neighbourhood has a European feel to it, I don't even feel as if I am in the US anymore. Holy cow, people walking, outdoor cafes, tree-covered streets, people on scooters, lots of people walking dogs, and me with a tourists grin as I soak it all in.

After a quick bite at Taste, my new favourite restaurant, we head to Wild Oats to pick up supplies, and on our way there Bev pointed out that it is the best place for pick-up at The Beach, and she is not kidding. I thought my local Desi grocery store was the place to meet hot guys, but at Wild Oats everyone is fresh from the beach or the gym or from work, and you get to see how beautiful the people who live in Miami truly are...

We head back home and Bev hops in the shower and I sit on her beautiful patio and call my mom. Bad things always happen when I try to go to Miami, and this time the bad waited until I was in Miami, my grandmother had passed away that morning, while I was in transit. I was so glad to be with Bev; if you are going to get bad news while so far away from your family, it is a blessing to be with one of your best friends. I was already somewhat upset about something that had happened the weekend before, an event that made me swear to give up drinking. The ensuing conversation with Bev made me feel much better, not only about my grandmother but about this other event. What a bummer of a way to start a holiday, dumping bad news and a ton of what has been bugging me and upsetting me on my hostess! But, that is why friends are friends, and when all was said and done I felt better about everything, including having cocktails at dinner....

View from Bev's patio














Another view from Bev's patio















Bev wants me to see Lincoln Road, which is also around the corner from a birthday party that we are going to attend. Bev described Lincoln Road as the world's biggest runway, and I can see why. A long stretch of upscale clothing stores, coffee houses, bars, and restaurants, and the street is divided by the outside seating of the restaurants. It seems as if half the city is here eating dinner before hitting the clubs, and the locals are all dressed to impress. This is a street to see and be seen.

Dinner at World Resource Café, a must eat restaurant, and then onto Buck15, the club in the second-story back entrance at Miss Yip's Chinese Restaurant, mentioned by Beverly in her South Beach Glossary. Buck15 is one of the coolest clubs I have been to in years. Great location, great art, great DJ, great crowd, it reminded me of the clubs here in Orange County back in the 80's, before dance music turned lame and almost every weekend some random Chinese restaurant in Huntington Beach or Costa Mesa would turn into an after hours club.

World Resource Cafe














Buck15 graffiti art














I thought that I would be intimidated in Miami. I am a tomboy who doesn't like makeup or spending time on my hair or my clothes. I thought I would be underdressed and stand out as a tourist everywhere I went. This was not the case. South Beach is so laid back, and with very few exceptions, everyone I met there was so amazing and nice. Walking into Buck15, taking pictures like a tourist, I had two great guys offer to take pictures of Bev and her guy and I with the art, telling me about the great poses they have taken with themselves and the art (get your mind out of the gutter). This was so typical of everyone, helpful, nice, and friendly.

Buck15 Sumo art














Oh yeah, and how can you help but not love a town where you can wear a tank top with no sweater in October!

After a night of dancing and drinks, it was back to Bev's, where I cried myself to sleep. It was a great night, but I really miss my gram....

Sacred Valley, Peru

Where do I start when talking about a day in the Sacred Valley? The Sacred Valley itself borders the Cuzco Valley and stretches from Pisac to Ollantaytambo, 26 miles of the most beautiful scenery you have never imagined unless you have experienced it. When I mentioned in the last Peru post that Machu Picchu is not the most beautiful place in Peru, I wasn’t kidding, I have never seen anything to resemble the beauty of the Sacred Valley, and even the Cuzco Valley is almost more beautiful than Machu Picchu. A double-lane road takes you through the valley, with steep drops and switchbacks in places that allow you to see for miles the farmlands, mountains, villages, adobe cutters, and amazing sky that leave no question as to why the Incan’s thought this valley was sacred.

We started at dawn to head out to the famous Pisac market, but stopped along the way to visit various roadside vendors and to take pictures, and a brief stop at an alpaca/llama farm.

The alpaca/llama farm was incredible – not your usual tourist trap where goods are forced down your throat – but an educational center run by valley locals. Locals spend two weeks at a time working at the farm, and all the money earned is returned to the villages. You enter the farm and get to learn about alpacas, llamas, and vicunas, and you get to feed them, as well. Then, you get to see how they are shorn, then visit a hut where the wool is died and learn about the traditional methods of dying, along with the traditional plants and bugs(!) that are used to create the colours for the dyes. From there you get to see how the wool is turned into textiles, with small children learning how to spin the fur into fleece and to turn fleece into textiles at the foot of their parents and elders. After that there is the requisite tourist shop, but even this wasn’t the usual kitschy and overpriced tourist trap that you would expect. Once again I fell in love with the people of this area, it is amazing to see an indigenous people not selling themselves out for profit to the tourist industry, but using their skills to educate tourists about their culture, while at the same time using the profits they earn to both perpetuate and enhance the way of life they have lived for centuries.

My friendthe alpaca, who I named but won't mention his name here. @ has a great picture of me feeding him, but I can't find the picture right now....



Every few miles, at random switchbacks, there are Incan’s selling stuff. If you ever make it to the Sacred Valley, stop at one of these roadside vendors as they sell many of the goods that you don’t find at the tourist stores in Cuzco or Aguas Calientes. I bought some great necklaces made of seeds and a beautiful wood bracelet, none of which I saw anywhere else in Peru. There is the added bonus that all of the switchbacks are awesome opportunities for pictures.

One of the pictures from the side of the road.



The Pisac market is a disappointment at first as we traveled through another tight road paved with ancient stones in a historic city and right into a loud tourist parking lot. After hearing so much hype about how this is the best shopping opportunity in Peru, this is a let down as it appears at first to be just another tourist trap. It isn’t. This is where the locals come to shop for produce, spices and sauces, and walking through the market is a culinary experience. I wished that we had a kitchen in the hotel so I could cook with some of the spices, including a homemade Aji sauce (aji is Peruvian for pepper) made of peppers, ground garlic and onions, and other spices. As they were sold in flimsy plastic bags I knew I could never bring any home. The women in the market don’t speak much English, but if you know some Spanish and like to cook, they are more than glad to talk about cooking and food!

Pass through the food stalls into the market itself, and it is a standard market, but with a wide selection of Incan textiles, silver, wool and cotton goods. While a lot of the goods here were standard fare you can find throughout the valleys and in Lima, many of the hand-woven goods can only be found here. I bought two small pieces of wool that depict the Incan story of the moon, although @ pointed out that it was probably some random design meant to tempt tourists. I point this out not because she is a cynic, but because it reminded me of the time in China I purchased another textile and she pointed out that it probably said “Fuck you, white girl". Still one of my favourite running jokes with her….

After the market it was on to Ollantaytambo, where we had stopped the day before to catch the train to Machu Picchu. As you drive through the ancient alley that is the entrance into the city you pass water channels separating the houses where women are doing their laundry, the same way they have for the last 400 years. You enter a parking lot and walk down a short street to enter the Ollantaytambo market. Skip the market if you have already been to Pisac, it is many of the same goods and is only good if you have a bad case of the “I should have purchased that”. The street is walled with gates (somewhat like Lima), so unless you get lucky you can’t see the amazing colonial era homes behind the walls. I was rude and peeked into one of the courtyards while someone was standing in the open doorway, and saw one of the most beautiful fuscia and cactus gardens I have ever seen. Past the market is the fortress.

Ollantaytambo is often referred to as a fortress, but in reality the fortress was akin to a hotel for the Incan nobles – a place to stop while traveling through the valley. As it was where the nobles stayed, it was fortified and built on a hill for safety, serving the multiple purposes of inn, agricultural complex, military complex, and religious center for the area. Throughout the city you will find houses constructed on remains of the old walls. At the base of the fortress are the water channels and the base of the farming terraces. There is an ancient fortifying wall, called “The Great Wall”, which is partially unfinished but still has some of the original orange paint in places. I will spare you the full history lesson, but the wall is unique in its construction from any other walls in the valley. Climb up the path between the terraces to get to the top of the wall and a great view of the city. It is also a great view of the buildings on the next mountain (which is farther than it appears), which were food storage buildings. These buildings are built at what appear to be precarious angles, backed right up to the mountain, with windows on all sides. They were built this way so that the wind blowing through the valley would get caught in what was a man-made wind-tunnel and circulate through the windows, providing refrigeration or drying out the foodstuffs stored there.

A picture of the wall with paint.



Food storage building from the fortress wall.



I won’t write much about the hike along the wall, but let you see the pictures instead. The only thing remarkable about the hike/walk is that I got winded a couple of times – the first time in the valley that I really felt the altitude. Since I climb at least ten flights of stairs a day, I was quite surprised at this…

View of Ollantaytambo from the mid-point of the fortress wall.



I have traveled all over the world, and as mentioned in other posts my favourite thing to do is to take long walks alone. I have seen many beautiful things, many ugly things, many dirty things, but nothing uglier or dirtier than the bathroom I paid to use in Ollantaytambo. I knew it was my last chance before returning to Cuzco, and did not expect the conditions I saw there. If I have one weakness as a writer it is that I can’t write funny, but if I could I could write a story as funny as I can tell it about the flies, the smell, the lack of cleanliness, and the fact that I still haven’t allowed the boots I wore that day inside my house, even after eight months….

Throughout the Sacred Valley I kept seeing pink, plastic bags that looked like grocery bags tied to the end of poles over the doorways of buildings. We kept trying to figure out what they were, but couldn’t. After we left Ollantaytambo, Rudy, the best tour guide in the world, took us to the Aj’a Huasi Inka Bar for a “surprise”. Now, I had read about an alcholoc drink made by chewing corn until it is fully wettened with saliva and then rolling it into little balls in the mouth and then letting it dry in the sun to create a beer product. This is why I entered the Aj’a Huaji Inka Bar with some trepidation. We entered a small, unassuming building that had one of the ubiquitous pink bags hanging from a pole and walked into a pretty courtyard with a bronze frog sitting on what resembled a commode. At the back of the patio was another breathtaking view of the Sacred Valley, and walking back to the other end of the patio I saw a room filled with guinea pigs! They were sooo cute, but remember in Peru they are also dinner. We played a game called Sapo, which is trying to throw heavy bronze coins into the bronze frog’s mouth from a distance of about twelve feet, no easy feet, and no one was able to do so. We then went into a darkened room to learn about Chicha.

Chicha is beer brewed from corn, and while it is associated with the Inca, it has been prepared in the Sacred Valley for thousands of years. Corn is soaked in cold water, then allowed to sprout. At a certain point, the corn is then moved into the sun to dry. The corn is crushed after it is dried out, and then the flour is boiled. After a point, the water is poured off the mash, and more water added, a process that is repeated many times. The water that is poured off is allowed to ferment, this is the Chicha. It sounds gross, but really, all beer is fermented, and unless you homebrew you don’t get to see these chemical reactions in person - beer isn't made in bottles.

The verdict? I loved it! It reminded me of a Hefeweizen, bitter and tangy, but no one else was very impressed by it. Oh, and the pink bags? They signify a bar, home, or gathering place that is serving a fresh batch of Chicha!

Picture from the back door of the Inka Bar.



Sapo!



Do not ever think of going to Peru without at least a day in the Sacred Valley. Also, I almost forgot to mention that we had lunch at one of the best buffet luncheons I have ever eaten at, in the patio of a beautiful hotel, Hotel Sol y Luna. This is where I want to stay the next time I visit Peru, and where I would love to honeymoon someday. It is really that wonderful…

More random pictures. You can find the entire set here.

Ollantaytambo's fortress, terrace, and mountain from the fortress wall.



Toros! Good luck charms found on houses throughout the valley that incorporate both Catholic and Incan iconagraphy.



Adobe manufacturing. Most homes in the valley are made of adobe, which only costs a few cents a brick....



Dusk in the valley....



No more Peru stories until after I return from Miami!

Advance Directives

I am leaving for Miami this week on holiday, yeah! I will return to travel posts soon enough, but this last week I was once again reminded of the importance of having an advance directive on file, and I can't stress enough how important it is that everyone have one.

An advance directive is a set of instructions to doctors explaining what actions you want a doctor to take if you become unable to make your own medical decisions. What people focus on when discussing advance directives is the control it gives you when you are unable to make your own decisions, but it is also important for your family for so many reasons. You don't want your family to struggle about what care you should receive if you become incapacitated – with an advance directive you have already communicated exactly what care you want to not only your doctors but your loved ones. It is not enough to fill out the forms, you have to have a discussion with your family about exactly what your wishes are so that they understand what decisions to make and what to tell the doctors when the time comes. With an advance directive you also prevent a family member who may disagree with your wishes and the wishes of other family members from complicating medical decisions by contesting the decisions being discussed.

There are many types of advance directives. Most people are familiar with the do not resuscitate (DNR) order, a directive to prevent doctors from performing CPR on you in case your heart stops or you quit breathing. This is common among terminally ill and elderly people, and is a consideration if you are either one of these or do become seriously ill or injured.

Living wills and durable power of attorney are similar directives. A living will is a document that describes the type of medical or life-sustaining treatments you want if you are seriously or terminally ill, but also applies if you are seriously injured or have a serious, unexpected medical condition. A durable power of attorney (DPA) is a similar directive, but allows you to chose a person to make health care decisions on your behalf, if necessary. The only downside that I can see about a DPA is that you have to give the power of attorney to a person who will make the same decisions that you would make under the same circumstances, a person who you can trust.

Living wills and DPAs may not be recognized in all American states, and if you live in a state where they are not recognized it is still a good idea to create one as it is a useful tool to educate and guide your family and doctors as to what your wishes are should you have an accident or become too ill to make those decisions.

You can do an Internet search to find what directives your states recognizes. At my doctor's office they give a copy of the forms at every visit and will keep it with my medical records to ensure that they always recognize my wishes. They are not perpetual legal documents, they can be changed and updated as your needs and life change.

I have had to become too familiar with directives over the course of the last couple of weeks, and I can't stress how helpful it is that my grandmother has one in effect so that my aunt, mother and I were all in agreement about her care, based on her wishes, not ours.

As a follow-up, my grandmother is still alive, but very ill and in hospice care. I am forever thankful that I had the chance to see her and talk to her before her health took a turn for the worse, and am thankful to all of you who were in contact with me while I was back east with your best wishes and support.

Thank You All

To all my friends,

Thank you to everyone for your kind words and support during this time. To know me is to know how much I love my grandmother, and to know how important she is to me. I have told you all so many stories about her, about how proud I am to be her granddaughter, about how much she means to me, and many of you have loved her as well.

It is a strange and scary feeling to know that in a few hours I am taking a flight across the country to talk to her, to hold her hand, and to say goodbye to her for the last time. The last time I saw her was to celebrate a wedding and her birthday, but before I leave Virginia this time it will be to celebrate the end of her life with all the others who love her.

She has made peace with leaving us, she is holding on long enough for all of us to come so she can say goodbye to us for the last time. I wish that I could find peace and happiness in this, but I am so heartbroken that I am losing so much. I wish I could find comfort in the fact that I have had my entire adult life to enjoy her, many people lose their grandparents so young or their grandparents spend their elderly years sick, but instead I am hurt and crying that the woman who was always so strong until a few days ago will be leaving me.

I am crying too hard as I write this to continue, even though there is so much more about her that I would like to say. I am afraid. I am sad. I am feeling a strange sense of loneliness. But, I know that you are all supporting me, and for that I will be forever grateful.

Nōhkom

The trip I never wanted to take but knew I would have to eventually looks as if it will happen this week.

I skipped visiting my grandmother on her birthday this year as I was busy and was planning on visiting later this year, and then celebrating her birthday with her next year. She always said she would live to see 100, but it appears as if that will not happen after all.

My dear Gram is dying.

It is serious. Serious enough that the aunties and elders are coming in from Canada to see her. Serious enough that my mother asked me to help her find a cheap flight to my grandmother’s within the next day. Serious enough that my Aunt hasn’t left my grandmother’s side all day.

She is dying of nothing more than old age. And, old she is. She loved to joke about being born in a teepee. She loved to joke about how she had to walk across the border to come to this country because there were no other forms of transportation at that time. She loved to joke and laugh, and this she passed on to all her daughters and in turn, her granddaughters.

What I learned in the last few years is what she didn’t joke about, what she didn’t share. When she came to this country she was made to feel embarrassed about her skin colour and for being Aboriginal, and learned to keep quiet about who she is. As it turns out, she was a girl who was a well known horse trainer, so well respected as a child that the Blackfeet would bring their horses to her (the Blackfeet and Cree are historical enemies). That she was a young woman who loved a good party and a good drink. What I haven’t learned is all the rest of the secrets I know I will never get to know, a shame as she has a lot of interesting secrets.

Any person who lives to be almost 100 is a walking history textbook, but my grandmother is even more so than most. A woman born at a time when the Canadian government forcibly moved children from their parent’s homes and native languages into religious schools –where girls were taught to cook and sew, not read and write. Yet, she became a voracious reader. A woman who married late and had children later as she was busy helping raise her brother's children, the brothers who would become leaders in Aboriginal society and lead many of the First Nations empowerment movements of the 20’th century. And, many of the children she helped raised are still working toward preserving our native culture and language. A woman with enough love and strength that she not only raised her own four children, but her two step-children, and, at various times my sister, I, and many of our cousins.

So, at some point in the next few days, I will be going to the east coast to pay my final respects to a woman who I love almost more than my own mother. The woman who, in the darkest period of my young life taught me strength through her love, taught me to find and seek beauty in every day, in every moment, in every person, as beauty and simplicity are the path to grace. A woman who is universally respected by everyone who knows her, even the sisters who she once was estranged from after a youthful (and quite serious and scandalous) indiscretion. A woman who brings together so many other women every September to celebrate her birthday, filling my aunt’s house with noise and bodies and laughter and broken appliances, and will now bring a large group of us together for what will probably the last time, as she is the thread that holds so many of us together, and many of the aunties are becoming too old to travel anyway.

You can’t get sweetgrass here in California. Since I won’t sleep tonight, I will burn sage instead, praying for her and hoping that Kisā-Manitou will treat her kindly on her last journey…

Passion for Cinema

Passionate about cinema?

My friend Oz from desitrain.com has started a new venture, passionforcinema.

Passion for Cinema is a site designed to bring together all movie fanatics, cinema lovers and those who eat, breathe and drink cinema together in one place to discuss movie related events and movie personalities, review movies, publish a scoop, a highly opinionated view, or perhaps to share your knowledge about the medium.

All things movie related are happening on one Web page…passionforcinema…enjoy and spread the good word!

Miami!

So, all year I have been promising Beverlicious that I would visit as soon as I can find a flight under $300 dollars, and today I found one for $230! On her birthday! I hope she likes the present!

We will be attending the opening night of the Carnival Center for the Performing Arts (I think this is a renaming ceremony), which promises to be a swank event. Adding to the swankness of the event will be my weak California ass melting in the Florida humidity wearing a nice dress. Of course, this could be the kiss of death for the Center as this will probably be the night a hurricane larger than Wilma destroys it. Just look at what happened to the Miami International Film Festival last year! We all know that when I buy Miami tickets, bad things happen.

I am going to spend the next couple of weeks trying to figure out how to get to Cuba from Miami. I know that Bev would be game....

If you are interested, I got the tickets on Orbitz. I went directly to the American Airlines website, but the Orbits price was cheaper.

If you are even more interested, you should check out Bev's blog. Really, she is one of the funniest and smartest women alive. One of my personal favourites? Her South Beach Glossary of Terms. Really, nothing better than the observations of an Orange County woman relocated to Miami.

Proud To Be Canadian and American - At Least for the Laughs it Provides!

This made my morning, I laughed so loud someone actually stopped by my office to ask what was so funny. If I win the lottery, I am donating some of the winnings to the Overhead guys. Enjoy!

Yeah, Along With Some Weird Pink Money With Birds and Queens on it

Police officer: You're under arrest for underage drinking in public.
American teen: But they're from Canada, officer!
Police officer: Got any marijuana in your purse?

--Sandestin, Florida

Overheard by: proudcanadian

via Overheard at the Beach, Aug 17, 2006

Forget Hiatus - Lets Travel!

If you are reading this, you have heard me talk through the years about how I HAVE to get to Cuba before Castro dies. I keep putting this off, but it looks as if it can't be put off much longer. Read the news:

Reuters: http://punk-list.org?uid=867
Granma: http://punk-list.org?uid=868

Who is interested in a trip to Cuba, hopefully sometime in the next month or so? I have a credit card that is almost paid off that really needs to be maxed out for this trip. This is one trip I don't want to take alone....

So, mes amis in Canada and mis amigos who will be in Mexico soon, what do you think? Or, what about a jaunt over from Rio de Janiero? Although, December may be too late for this trip....

On Hiatus

It has been about three weeks since I have had a chance to write an update, and it will probably be one more before I have the ability to do so. I have the next post almost finished and the pictures are already on the Photobucket site, but with the film festival, the film, and everything else that is happening in my life, I just haven't had time to keep up with any of my blogs! Thanks for all the messages (why does everyone insist on sending messages but never leave comments?); I will have the post on my day in the Sacred Valley up sometime in the next week. I mentioned in a previous post that Macchu Picchu was not my favorite place in Peru, that's because the entire Sacred Valley is the most beautiful places I have ever seen, and the day spent traveling and hiking in the valley really is one of the most spectacular travel days I have ever had. I can't wait to share the pictures and stories.

Amor y Paz....

Checking In

Random thoughts and links from the last few weeks until I finish organizing my pictures of the Cuzco Valley…

Lame Pick Up Lines
If there is one line that I hate more than any, it is, “Surfer girls are sexy”. Besides being demeaning – no one ever says, “Women who go to the gym are sexy” or, “Women who run are sexy” – I’m not quite sure what is sexy about surfing. Yes, it keeps me in shape, but go to the beach early in the morning, when the true surfers go, and you will see that surfing does not equal thin or in shape. In fact, some of the best surfers out there are the hapas (not known for being thin) and guys with beer guts. What is not sexy is that surfing involves spitting, blowing crap out of your nose, and maybe peeing in your bathing suit when you just don’t want to run to use the washroom. What is sexy about that?

Take this morning’s session. I took a board with only one fresh coat of wax out this morning, and needed to keep wax in my pocket so that I could wax it in the water, as needed. In order to get a suitable piece of wax I used my teeth to bite a piece off, leaving wax in my retainer and in-between some of my teeth. I spent the better party of the morning in the water spitting out small pieces of wax as the pieces dislodged themselves from my teeth and retainer. I also took a pretty good fall this morning, leaving my right elbow and both my knees bright purple – what is sexy about looking like a beating victim? When I went down for that fall, I took some water up the nose. After recovering my board I blew my nose into the water. Sexy? And, while I didn’t do any gross spitting this morning, it is a part of surfing, the part I guess you don’t see from the beach.

I may be sexy for any number of reasons, but the fact that I surf isn’t one of them. Come on, guys, come up with a better approach. In fact, if you are unoriginal enough to have to use a “line”, make sure it isn’t a compliment about sexiness or attractiveness; women know it is an obvious come-on and there is nothing attractive about that….

Referencing a previous post, I now have bruises on my hips, stomach and all over my legs. The first sign that the anemia is kicking in again…

Numbers Stations
On the plist recently, someone mentioned numbers stations. I looked it up on wikipedia, and couldn’t sleep for two nights. Why do things like this creep me out?

More Money Pit News
The cat cost me another $500 last week after having surgery for an abscess in his mouth caused by either a cat bite or scratch. I am changing his name from Mu’ammar to Money Pit. If you missed the post of how much he cost me last month, check it out here.

Yes Boss
I don’t know what compelled me to rent this movie, other than I am working my way through all of Shahrukh Kahn's movies and Netflix had this available. What a pleasant surprise. SRK is gorgeous and wonderful with little of the overacting that he exhibited in his earlier films or has returned to in some of his recent ones. Juhi Chawla is radiant, and there are no mistakes in the casting of any of the other parts of the movie.

I don’t have time to write a full review, but I do have two thoughts that came to me after watching this movie. The first is that when so many of the movies coming out of India are barely good remakes of American and Asian films, it is a shame that movies that have a distinct Indian message and flavor are almost unknown here in the states. While the idea of two men wanting the same woman is as old as storytelling, Hey Boss uses a corporate setting as an almost secondary storyline to show subservient boss/employee relationships that don’t exist here in America; relationships that are mirrored through the corporate food chain from Rahul’s relationship with his boss Siddarth, and Johnny’s similar relationship with his co-worker Rahul.

The second thought is not specific to this movie, but to many Bollywood movies that are released in the states. Why is it that so many movies do not have subtitles for the songs? When songs are used to progress a story line, doesn’t it make sense for the songs to be translated so non-Hindi speakers can understand the motivations and feelings of the movie’s characters? Just saying…It would have also made the boring songs in this movie bearable, instead I just fast forwarded through them…

Henry Rollins
SRK may be my most recent famous movie star crush, but Henry Rollins has been my famous rock star crush for the last 22 years. This video only proves why....

Aguas Calientes

I joked while getting off the train about the silliness of calling a place with a cold river running through it Aguas Calientes, and it was only after I returned home that I found out that there are natural hot springs there. Damn, one other thing missed out on while in Peru. Aguas Calientes is the town at the base of Machu Picchu, and the train station backs up against a mountain of orchids and succulents, hiding the fact that this is just another small tourist town outside of the station. Regardless, it is what it is, restaurants, hostels, gift shops, a place to relax after coming back down the mountain.

After lunch at Machu Picchu, I wanted to spend more time there, but walking back into the ruins it looked dangerous. By 1:00 pm the trains have deposited all the tourists, and even though we were there in the off-season, it was crowded with people. The steps at Machu Picchu are small, the Incans are small people to begin with, and 400 years ago they must have been even more petit. My size 10 shoes didn’t fit on all the steps, and preservation means that there are no handrails on the tall steps leading up the ruins. To see hundreds of people crowded on these staircases with small steps and no handrails looked scary to me; if one person fell it would be a domino effect of people falling down the stairs onto each other to the bottom, nothing I wanted to be part of. We decided to head back to Aguas Calientes to wait for the train.

Going back down the mountain, there were a group of boys in native costumes on one of the switchbacks, and one of them began pumping his fists and yelling at us. Then, at almost every switchback, the boy would be there yelling at us and pumping his fists – he was running down the mountain to meet us at each part of the road. Finally, the bus driver stopped and let him on the bus, where he greeted us in Quechua and Spanish and took pictures for money, a creative but cute tourist trap. As the kid passed us, I noticed that he was wearing UCLA basketball trunks under his “native” uniform! As it turns out, the bus drivers keep most of the money the kids earn on these trips, which seems unfair as the kids have to work very, very hard to run down that mountain....

We had lunch, tea, dessert, and snacks at one restaurant so we could occupy a table to pass the time before our train back to Cuzco. Our entertainment for the timepass were three children, working as shoe-shiners, who were fighting each other for customers. I no longer remember the exchanges, but the all knew each other and were hilarious as they insulted each other and hyped up their pitches to the customers, all the while trying to avoid the kicks of the restaurant manager who wanted them off his patio.

At this point we were all tired of looking at each other, so we went our separate ways. There were workmen doing construction in town who were wearing comfortable looking rubber huaraches, so I went to find a pair, as well as a new notepad. I never did find the shoes, and it was amazingly hard to find paper considering that with the number of hostels and number of kids staying in the hostels that one would think paper would sell very well. I was getting sunburned, so I bought the world’s ugliest hat. Maybe I will post a picture of it later. I still wear the world’s ugliest hat on a regular basis here at home as it is the best sun hat ever, even if it makes me look like a smelly hippy.

The Plaza de Armas in Aguas Calientes is small, with very little shade and very few seats, and I didn’t want to drink another tea in a restaurant to pass the time so I took a seat on a planter in the plaza. That is where I was approached by Maria, whose full name I have since forgotten but it was beautiful. Maria sat down next to me and I said “hello” and asked her name, but she just giggled. She had stuff in her hands, and when I asked to see it she opened her palms and showed me a cigarette butt, a gum wrapper, and an empty gum box. I told her to throw everything away, and she then went to put the cigarette butt in her mouth! I sternly told her to throw it away and she wandered off to find a trash can, coming back to me immediately afterward. She then opened the first flap of my backpack and grabbed my keys and began to speak to me, even though I understood almost nothing as she was only about two and speaking baby gibberish. After getting bored of my keys, she opened the backpack’s big pocket and started playing with everything. She then grabbed a book in which I had a put my train ticket, which is also meant to be a souvenir with a mural of Machu Picchu and sites in Aguas Calientes. She grabbed my hand, told me to come with her, and gave me a tour of all the places in Aguas Calientes on the ticket! I had my own two-year old tour guide!

After returning to the Plaza, I asked her where her parents were (I was concerned as I hadn’t seen a parent this entire time). She pointed in some random direction. I then asked if I could take her picture, and the result is below. I then told her to take me to her mother, and she took me to an alley off the Plaza where women were preparing potatoes on the street to sell to the locals. I introduced myself to her mother and showed her the picture, then her mother took the camera and showed it to a bunch of the other women. Her mother told me that she was quite the ham and that she loved attention and cameras. I was astounded (and I still am) that there is a place in this world where a small child is allowed to run around, talking to strangers, and it is deemed safe!

Maria's cute picture:



While in Lima, I noticed that young boys and teenage boys were throwing water balloons at girls. I noticed it to an extent in Cuzco, but in Aguas Calientes, water balloon throwing was rampant, with girls also throwing them at boys and parents filling up water guns and balloons for their children! Everywhere I walked, there was a person throwing a balloon. Balloons were always thrown at the opposite sex, and I finally asked someone in one of the shopping kiosks what was happening. Water balloon throwing is one of the hallmarks of Carnival! At one point after school let out, I walked into an alley that was drenched, it looked as if it was raining with all the balloons being thrown from one building to the next. A concerned tourist was standing at the alley, scared to enter, and I laughed at him and pointed out that unless some little girl had a crush on him it was perfectly safe to pass (and, the day had warmed up so the mist felt good).

I have already mentioned the terraces and homes that we saw from the train back on our way back to Cuzco, but the valleys on the bus ride from Ollantaytambo to Cuzco are breathtaking. That will be the subject of the next Peru post, and besides, you are probably reading this so you can get to the pictures!

The river that runs through Aguas Calientes



Statue of Pachacutec in the Plaza de Armas



Picture of the side of a mountain. You can see that there is little soil and much erosion on the local mountains, which is one of the reasons why the Incans began the practice of terrace farming, it allowed them to reclaim some of the naturally eroding Andes....

Machu Picchu

Is it blasphemous to say that Machu Picchu wasn’t my favorite place we went while in Peru? Anytime you mention Peru, Machu Picchu is what everyone thinks of, and it seems to be one of the places that everyone wants to visit. And, that everyone should visit. It is glorious, it is beautiful, and there are few more wonderful places on earth. For history buffs like me, Machu Picchu is a must see. Despite the opening sentences of this post, it is one of the best days ever and a place that will stay with me always.

Getting to Machu Picchu requires a stop in Cuzco. You can then take the train directly to Cuzco or take a bus to Ollantaytambo and catch the Vistadome train from there, which is what we did. We had to leave Cuzco before dawn to catch the train, and even though I wanted to sleep, I stayed awake to see sunrise over the valley. Ollantaytambo is an ancient city, and the residents still live in the same homes that the Incans lived in, and the narrow roads and water channels that were built at some indeterminate time are still intact. Since we returned to Ollantaytambo the next day, I will save the stories for another Peru post. The Vistadome train to Machu Picchu is the middle-range train that takes you through the Sacred Valley to Aguas Calientes, the city at the base of Machu Picchu and the letting-off point for all trains. I slept most of the way on the train, and since @ had the window seat I read when I was awake so I missed most of the valley. I was wide awake when we got to the mountains, and must have looked like a fool as I am sure that my mouth was open the entire time.

The train travels through the Cuzco Valley into the Sacred Valley. The view changes from lush foothills to farmland to foothills that resemble the mountains of Los Angeles and then suddenly to lush forest. At this point the train travels along the Urubamba river until it reaches Aguas Calientes, and I have no words to describe how it felt to see the partially untouched forest next to the rapids of the Urubamba looked on a sunny morning, but I still think of this on occasion as it is an image that I can never forget. Getting off the train in Aguas Calientes you walk through an ordinary train station into a small garden overlooking the river that is perfect for pictures, and was my first exposure to the orchids that grow wild throughout the valley. I didn’t know it at the time, but there are over 90 species of orchids that live in the valley. I will post some orchid pictures at a later time…

From the train station we took the bus up the mountain to Machu Picchu. It is a 20 minute bus ride from Aguas Calientes to the entrance of Machu Picchu on what looks to be a single lane, twisting and curvy unpaved mountain road. It is here I will point out my fear of winding mountain roads, and I had my eyes closed for most of the trip while @ kept reminding me to keep them closed. The entrance is unremarkable, entering Machu Picchu is unremarkable, and then, a few yards in, the site opens up and you can see the agricultural terraces to your left, the religious pavilion straight ahead, and Wayna Picchu to the right. Since it was the rainy season, everything was lush and green, and since we were at cloud level what looked to be fog banks were actually cloud banks! I can now say that I have walked in the clouds!

Machu Picchu means Old Mountain in Quechua and Wayna Picchu (Huayna Picchu) means Young Mountain. The ruins of Machu Picchu are set between the two mountains, not on Machu Picchu itself. While it is unknown what the true purpose of Machu Picchu was, it is believed that it was a university where students studied archeology and religion, and the top Incan priests who advised the Incan rulers in Cuzco lived here. I forgot the distance by foot between the two cities, but communication between the two cities was conducted by runners. I will spare you the rest of the history lesson, spare you the tour that I took, and give some of my impressions, along with some of my pictures.

The first picture I took inside Machu Picchu. This is only a few yards from the park entrance, showing exactly how breathtaking it was to just walk into the park....



Clouds at Machu Picchu. This shot was taken looking toward the mountain of Machu Picchu from somewhere around the religious buildings. This shot is representative of the views from everywhere at the site....



The view toward Wayna Picchu, which is hidden behind the clouds. I would have loved to take the hike to Wayna Picchu, but the trail was washed out....



Shot from path from the entrance past the picture hut and toward Wayna Picchu...



Farming terraces. On the train home I had a window seat and noticed the same terraces throughout the Sacred Valley, some on the mountains in the distance and some right along the train route. Back at the hotel bar that night, I asked Maria (the world's best bartender) if they were Incan terraces like the ones at Machu Picchu, and she said yes, not only were they Incan, but were still being farmed the same way that they have been for hundreds of years! The Incans used stone to build these terraces on hills and mountains as a way to farm what would otherwise be unusable slopes and as a way to conserve water as the terraces prevent soil erosion and allow the control of water runoff, water that was diverted through aqueducts and channels to water the dry valleys and to provide water to the cities throughout the valley....



A random shot of one of the surrounding mountains, during a rare clearing of the sky....



You can find this photo as a stock photo all over the Internet, but I include it anyway as I want to research this sometime soon. It is believed that the pools were filled with water to track the movement of the stars. They are different sizes and are set off-center from each other, but if you put a compass between the two of them the compass points directly north and south. Looking up you notice that the mountain of Machu Picchu is directly due north and the mountain of Wayna Picchu is directly due south!



Llamas aren't indigenous to Machu Picchu, yet some years ago a few were left behind by a movie crew and now live there! These two were getting ready to fight, although when I mentioned it to the person standing next to me they thought I was being lame. But, really, if you have ever owned a pet you know the offensive fighting position and the llama on the right was in position. Then, he spit! Just like a camel! Because I didn't do my homework before arriving in Peru, I was unaware until the next day that they are related to camels....



Another stock photo you can find anywhere on the Internet, but I found this fascinating. This is the Intihuatana sundial, but unlike ordinary sundials, this one is used to tell the solstice, not minutes or hours....



The Incans developed a complex aqueduct and irrigation system to deliver water to the cities. Here is a picture of one of the channels. Water was either pooled in places or further channeled to where it was needed. I suppose this isn't too interesting as most ancient urban societies had some sort of water delivery system, but since this is the first that I have seen in person I found it interesting, and continued to take pictures of channels for the rest of the time I was in the Sacred Valley....



The long and winding road from Aguas Calientes to Machu Picchu.



So, this wasn't my favorite place we visited on this trip, but it was the prettiest. Macchu Picchu is an amazing place to spend a day, and it helps if you have a good guide. While I am usually anti-tour guide, we had a local guide that day who had surprises for us on the tour. By surprises, I mean that the locals have jacked the system and have their own, alternate tour, showing things that non-Quechua guides can't show you, and they have more knowledge than any outsider to their culture.

I mentioned that it was both cloudy and sunny, and it was. While it was sunny down in Aguas Calientes, it was cloudy in Machu Picchu. Even so, I sunburned. That's what happens to pasty white skin at 7,000 feet. We were lucky to be there in the Peruvian summer, which is the Andean rainy season. Most pictures you see of Machu Picchu show bright blue skies but brown grass, but we had beautiful skies and lush, green grass.

Listen to what the guide books tell you when you visit. I don't get bit by mosquitos, but they are agressive and hungry down there, attacking my hairline and hands - the places where there was no bug spray. Also, wear sunscreen and bring a sun hat. It is really easy to sunburn at that altitude.

Priceless

Having a best friend that goes running with you, who walks to the store with you and waits patiently outside while enduring pats from strangers? Priceless.

Waking up every morning to a warm male coiled into the small of your stomach, curled up between your legs, or balled up inside your stomach as you are curled up on your side? Priceless.

An endless source of fun, entertainment and companionship? Priceless.

Pissing off your best friend? The total so far is $922.86.

When I first moved into my apartment, two black cats used to sun themselves on my front stairs. I called them Fang and Slug; Fang because he had two eye-teeth that are too big for his mouth and stick out like a saber tooth tigers, and Slug because he looks like a slug when he lays down. Slug belonged to girl who lived in the apartment across from me and Fang was the neighbourhood stray, a ferile cat that had been abandoned as a kitten and was fed and cared for by the entire neighbourhood. He was being cared for by the family across the street, then I noticed he was being cared for by a family down the street, and then by the girl across the way, and then by my downstairs neighbour. Fang would come into the house on occasion and snoop around, but then get skittish and leave. He was sweet and affectionate, but I knew the cat fights I heard at night were him.

One night, after I had been here about two years, he came in to spend the night. I had heard the horror stories of how bad he sprayed, of how he tore up furniture, of how he beat up other cats, but he was perfectly sweet and non-destructive in my home. He woke me up at 5:30 to be let out, and then came back about a week later to spend another night. One day I came home to find cat food and kitty litter on my stairs, the woman downstairs was taking care of him, but he was terrorizing her cat and she couldn't allow him in her house anymore and gave him to me. His real name is Mu'ammar, and he has been mine since.

His original owners abandoned him when he was a kitten, the original owners being the couple that lived in my apartment before me, which explains his comfort in my home. He never needed to spray or be destructive here because he is the only cat that lives here and he knows this home is his more than it is mine. He also knows that I love him as much as any person can love a pet.

My faithful companion, he is devoted to me like a dog. In fact, he acts more like a dog than a cat, he likes to play rough, and he likes to play with the neighbourhood dogs. He is my best friend, my greatest source of comfort, and the world's greatest spider-eater, ratter and bird-killer. His fighting costs me a fortune in vet bills, which I never mind as I love having him here. He is quite possibly my favourite pet in a lifetime of pet ownership.

But, in a lapse of bad judgment and a lapse of good pet stewardship, I made a mistake that (rightfully) pissed him off, causing him to show his destructive side. He destroyed the futon and my bed, and my germ phobia caused me to shell out an extra $95 to get the carpets cleaned, even though he would never harm the carpet that he sleeps on. Anyone who owns a cat knows that they are meticulously clean that they would never spray or pee on anything that they value or any place that they frequent. But, they are smart enough to leave messages, and I got this message loud and clear. He saved the final message until I was watching him, looking at me while he destroyed the sheets on my bed, saying, "Fuck you, bitch" with his face while doing so. After him, I never again want to be the caretaker of a smart and vengeful cat. As lucky as I am to be his human companion, I hope he realizes that he is lucky to have a companion that loves him as much as I do and doesn't mind his quirks and moods.

And, he has moods. He is 17 pounds of evil. I mentioned that he is smart, well he is the smartest animal that I have ever had and one of the smartest that I have ever known. That is not bragging, nor is it necessarily a point of pride. He can play mind games like the worst boyfriend, he can out-think me when I am not paying attention, and he is sneaky. His looks scare people; he may be 17 pounds but he is all muscle. He has begun getting grey whiskers and some grey in his body, but he has always been a true black cat, and the saber-teeth have caused more than one person to think that he is un brujo. He can be the sweetest thing in the world, and then turn around and try to eat my arm. I think the fact that he is such a mixture of moods and attitudes evil and sweet, calm and hyper, smart and sneaky, is the reason he found me, a person who always loves the dichotomies in people and found a cat with many of his own.

I am still not done spending money yet, I need to buy a new duvet cover, but since it is warming up I can wait to do that until the fall.

The endnote to the story? I had the carpets cleaned on Saturday, and on Sunday morning he ate his food too fast and promptly threw up on the newly cleaned carpet. Good thing I already own a small carpet cleaner....

Sacsayhuamán

One of the most beautiful places in Cuzco. Just north of the city itself, there are more than 200 archeological sites in this World Heritage Site, and the site itself would be amazing just due to its location alone. On a hill overlooking the city, surrounded by the mountains, sheltered by the most amazingly beautiful thunderous sky, I don’t have enough adjectives to describe just how amazing the location is – and I haven’t even begun to describe the ruins themselves.

The city of Cuzco itself was laid out in the shape of a puma, with Sacsayhuamán forming the puma’s head. The Spaniards believed that Sacsayhuamán was a fortress, but it was most likely used for storage and supplying water as there are aqueducts that run through the area. The most impressive feature in Sacsayhuamán is its three levels of walls that have stood for more than 500 years. These walls are what led the Spaniards to believe that this was a fortress, the European mindset couldn’t conceive of such a structure being used for anything but protection. The walls are stacked on each other in three levels, separated by terraces. The three walls are symbolic of the Incan trinity, Ukju Pacha (the underworld) represented by the first level, Kay Pacha (the earth) the middle level, and the Hanan Pacha (the sky) the top level. This three level iconography is used throughout Incan construction and art, as well as the Incan cross pendant that I bought for myself. The three walls are constructed in a zigzag, jagged pattern that is thought to both represent the puma’s teeth and Illapa, the god of lightning. They are so perfectly constructed that earthquakes have not effected them, and no grass grows between the boulders and not even something as thin as a sheet of paper can pass through the stones. The only thing that has marred the original construction is that the Spaniards used the stones from the walls to construct churches and cathedrals in Cuzco itself.

You enter the main entrance to the park onto a greenbelt with the wall on the right and mountains to the left. The park itself is used by the cusqueños as if it were just any public park – a place to play soccer and picnic with their families. Even though we were in Peru in the Southern Hemisphere summer, it is the rainy season in Cuzco, so everything was lush and green (do an image search on Google and you will see that most of the professional pictures show sunny skies and brown grass). I was as awestruck by the view looking toward the end of the park as I was by the walls. No mortar or other building agent was used to create the walls; the Incans created a construction system where they would carve an “L” shaped angle into a boulder that would fit perfectly into the same shape carved out of the next boulder, creating interlocking boulders that support each other. This same construction technique is found throughout the valley, and it is believed that shaping the blocks to fit together is what causes them to be impervious to earthquakes.

We only got to tour the walls, and then toured the park (mainly the bathrooms) without having the time to see any of the other ruins. One afternoon is not enough time to spend here, and if you ever make it to Cuzco you should plan to bring a lunch and spend most of the day here. Hire a tour guide to help because if you are on a package tour they will bring you there, but only for a short visit. We did get to meet some of the locals and walk around the park itself, I could spend an entire lifetime rock climbing and hiking here and as long as the sky keeps changing, never get bored.

About the locals, there are many Incans in traditional costume with llamas and alpacas hoping that you will spend a dollar to take a picture. There are lots of soccer games and children playing, and as I mentioned, people just having a picnic and enjoying their weekend. There was a cute puppy I found enjoying the day with its family, and when we asked its name the mom said “Scooby”. I don’t think I met a dog the entire weekend with a Spanish or Quechan name, they were all named Junior or Scooby or another name that we would expect a dog to be named. The mom asked us where we were from, and then offered to sell us her dog (she was joking, really, she was not serious), and as she did one of her daughters grabbed the puppy and held it tight, reminding me of how my oldest niece holds her Sammy and how strong the bond between children and dogs are in any culture.

So, here are the pictures. When I return to Peru, this will be the first place I come to after leaving Lima.

Locals at Sacsayhuamán







The sky began to grow dark, and we could hear thunder in the distance. This was the outcome.





You can see more images here. Click the Peru link, and then click the Cuzco link. Someday I will figure out a better way to organize my pictures....

What’s Going On?

Can I ever not reference song lyrics?

Word of advice. Don’t shave your legs when you are tired. At my age I should know better. I am writing this as a reminder as much to myself as to provide a giggle to you….

My birthday is more than six months away, but this week I saw three things I want. Mark your calendars, then click here:

// http://www.threadless.com/product/451/No_Peeking#zoom
// http://www.threadless.com/product/411/Misplaced_Things
// http://punk-list.org?uid=842

August 18 was going to be a wasted weekend with Clerks 2 and Snakes on a Plane both scheduled for release on that date. But, Kevin Smith, “In a ballsy move that says "Fuck you: we're a five million dollar flick and we're coming out in the fucking middle of the summer, bitches!"” (direct quote from the View Askewniverse), has moved Clerks 2 to a July 21 release date. This means that I can spend two days in two different months with guilty pleasures. I say “guilty” for lack of a better word as we all know how much I love Kevin Smith. And, it will be great to see Brian O'Halloran playing something other than a bit part in a movie again.

In a great promotional move, you can link to the movie on your myspace page, and the characters all have their own profiles! I love this! Also, I visited the Askewniverse for the first time today in months and they are making Chasing Amy “inaction figures”. Now, there are few movies that are less likely candidates for action figures, but this allows me to continue my virtual stalking of Jason Lee by having a Banky Edwards action figure! This is better than Buddy Christ!!!

J made my day today. I was in one of my moods where I was craving female companionship, and then she called. I spend so much of my time with men that sometimes I just really want to girl talk, and she is one of the best! She also cleaned out her closet and gave me some amazing clothes (Thanks J!) I now have clothes to wear to the office that fit, yeah!

My second job, contract beta tester, writer, web author, test designer and psychometrician for a major computer company, is picking up steam, and I am sooo happy to be working for them again. What an ego boost that they give me the work that they do, and that I get paid for doing things I would really do for free. The work I am doing now is for free, but by the end of summer I will be getting paid. Those were two schizophrenic sentences. This is awesome as I am hoping to be almost completely out of debt by the end of the year. Yes, I can hear some of you laughing about what my idea of debt is and how not in debt I am, but in a perfect world the only bill I would have is my student loan and I am hoping to achieve that by the end of this year....

Off to the middle of nowhere for the next few days. Maybe I will get some good pictures…

Qoricancha

As I was getting ready to write the next installment of the Peru travelogue, I realized I have no great stories in Cuzco. Time in Cuzco was spent moving from one place to the next, from one meal to the next. The only truly interesting stories I have from Cuzco are of the people I met, and I will have to tell their stories in two separate posts. This will not be one of those two.

Frankly, I have been too busy to post anything. This short post is a lame attempt to keep those of you who are visiting this site interested until the next Peru post, which will be on Sacsayhuaman. From that point forward, the posts get entertaining again (I hope).

So, about Qoricancha (Koricancha). I was hungry and tired when we got there. Quite frankly I wasn’t that interested in going, and the sky behind the temple was pretty and inviting me to take a walk, or just find some grass and lay down.

Qoricancha was the Incan temple dedicated to worshipping INTI – the sun god. Interesting fact? The temple was not the first structure on that site, there were other occupations in the past. I didn’t know that at the time, nor would I have found it interesting at that time, but later in the week I learned the history of the valley and became far more interested in the Inca and the credit they receive for constructing and ruling the Cuzco valley and central Peru. That will be another post.

So, what I found most interesting about Qoricancha was the Indian woman selling fried things at the entrance. I gave her a dollar for a bag of chips and something I didn’t recognize. @ and I later decided that it was fava beans prepared like Corn Nuts, except they were exceptionally fresh, lightly salted, and were prepared with very little oil. The bag of chips was YUMMY! Once again, lightly salted, fresh, little oil – completely unlike the crap you find at the grocery store that is passed off as snack food.

I didn’t take any pictures. I didn’t pay much attention. I just wanted to leave – to go for a walk and find some real food.

This doesn’t mean the temple sucked, I think @ really enjoyed it and got some great pictures. It just didn’t interest me….

Let me tease you with something interesting. Here is one of the series of pictures I took in Sacsayhuaman. This is one of my favorite places we visited in Cuzco…

Saturday Timepass

Some random thoughts from the last week.

J’s last day at work was this week. She has no idea how much I am going to miss her. The one woman at work who I can be rude and crude with, who has amazing amounts of wisdom and grace, and is always good for a laugh, who loves junk food as much as I do, and the only woman who shares the same cultural, literary, and social references as I. Oh yeah, and someone who loves my cooking! She always sees the good and beauty in everything, and more than anything that daily influence will be missed. I am glad I was too busy to cry when we said goodbye yesterday….

I am gaining weight again. I finally am looking healthy, and now that I am surfing again I can build up some muscle so I don’t look scary in a bathing suit or naked. Hopefully this weight-loss roller coaster will find a level, if for no other reason I can’t afford to keep spending money trying to find out why I keep losing it.

What do you do when, in a world of beautiful, intelligent, attractive, available men, you fall hard for the one that can’t be had? How do you shake the one that makes you laugh, sing, feel, the one that brings out qualities, mannerisms and ideas from inside of your psyche that you never knew existed? The only man that you have ever wanted that didn’t want you even more? How do you move on to what you deserve when it isn’t the same thing that you are yearning for?

I went to my mother’s last week for Mother’s Day. I hate Bakersfield. I hate that there is little to do. I hate that the heat is oppressive. I hate that my mother’s husband is getting elderly, sick, and needy and I can’t spend quality time with her. I hate that the things that are beautiful about Bakersfield are being paved over to make room for monotonous sub-developments, just like the rest of Southern California. The farms are disappearing. The odd farmhouses and roadside oddities are being replaced by produce vendors making a last stand before the developers take over. The gorgeous downtown buildings that have stood unchanged for fifty years are becoming gentrified. The random things that you used to be able to find while driving around – alleyway religious revivals, arts and crafts vendors, old cowboys – are going missing.

One of my favorite things in Bakersfield is this random cactus patch on Panama Avenue – I don’t know the cross street but we pass it when we go on errands. At one time the cactus patch took up a very large area of an entire street corner, sheltering the old farmhouse behind it from sight. I have always loved this corner; on three sides it is farmland and on the one corner, out of control cactus. Last summer there was an accident and a car drove into the cactus, leaving a scar. Sometime in the last few months the damaged section of cactus was removed. I wish I had taken pictures of it when it was in its glory, but I made a special trip to take pictures of what it is now, before the developers get to it. I think that I will make this a special photo project. The photos I took this weekend didn’t come out well, it was too late in the afternoon and the shadows were too long, but here is one I like because you can see the farmhouse in the back.



My Bakersfield soundtrack? First, the rules of road trip CDs is that more than 95% of the songs have to songs that you can sing along to, this is how you stay awake on a long drive.

//TSOL - a CD I made from vinyl of Beneath the Shadows, Dissappear and some Joykiller songs to fill the CD
//Mary's Danish - Circa
//Michael Franti - Stay Human
//Hole - Celebrity Skin
//Pixies - Bossa Nova
//A mix CD called Hometown Hits with TSOL, The Simpletones, The Crowd, Rik L Rik, Uniform Choice, The Joykiller, and others. Wow, guess you now know where my hometown is!

It is Rezedic’s birthday party today and I am so excited to see him and everyone else, I have been so busy lately and have done a bad job keeping in touch with all the people I love so much from that circle of friends. Part of me wishes that it would rain today so that I could skip surfing tomorrow morning , get drunk, and fall asleep in his bed. I don’t know that I ever told him when we were still a couple how much I loved falling asleep and waking up in his bed, even when I was angry at him…

Cathedral of Cuzco

Sunday morning we left for Cuzco. I skip Saturday night in Lima because it was mellow and quiet, we went to Café Amore for a pre-dinner cocktail and ended up eating dinner there and sampling the Pisco list – they have quite an impressive list of different Pisco concoctions and as soon as I get “E’s” pictures I will go into more detail regarding the drinks as she took extensive food and drink pictures. We then went to Santa Seda for more drinks, then off to the La Hacienda Casino for some gambling and free drinks and food. I budgeted a little bit of money and won back three times what I played. Then, off to early bed because Sunday was an early morning.

The flight to Cuzco, what I saw of it, is amazing. I mentioned earlier that I was exhausted, and I had tossed and turned all night Saturday but managed to get some sleep on the plane. I woke up to see some of the most gorgeous mountains, ever. The elevation of Cuzco is 11,600 feet, and altitude sickness is a reality for many travelers, so in the hotel lobby they serve maté de coco, coco leaf tea. Coco tea is supposed to help the symptoms of altitude sickness but it tastes like dirt. Thankfully, I didn’t have any problems with the altitude, so after the initial cup of maté, I avoided it the rest of the trip. @, on the other hand, couldn’t get enough of it.

We had just enough time to put down our suitcases and then it was off to the Plaza de Armas, the main plaza in Cuzco. Manco Capac, the first king of Cuzco, founded Cuzco in the 12th century. The Quechua name for Cuzco was Qosqo (sounds like Costco), meaning the navel of the earth, and it is obvious why the original inhabitants felt this valley was the center of the world; though it is a crowded city of about 300,000 people, it is beautiful; and even the graffiti covered adobe homes in the crowded parts of the city are attractive and colorful. When the Spaniards arrived in the 16th century they built their cathedrals, homes, and government buildings on the sites of the Incan buildings, and to this day the plaza is an amazing mix of Incan ruins and colonial Spanish architecture. Much of the Incan architecture that had been buried and built on over the years was exposed during an earthquake in 1950, and the locals lobbied to keep the ruins exposed and turned them into tourist attractions. This plaza is one of the most beautiful plazas I have ever seen, even though it is populated with tourist-trap bars, souvenir shops and Internet cafes (jugos de red).

Our first stop was the Cathedral of Cuzco. The cathedral is actually one large cathedral with two adjoining cathedrals, the Capilla del Triunfo and the Jesus, Maria y Jose. Construction on the original cathedral began in 1559, and construction on the site continued up until 1669. I mention this for two reasons. First, it is a sensation to be in a place where construction of most of the sites you see is spread over hundreds of years. I have been all over the world and seen lots of old buildings, construction, and ruins, but for some reason I was constantly taken by surprise in the Cuzco valley as I realized that I was looking at buildings, terraces and structures that took hundreds of years to construct, and are still being used hundreds of years later. I don’t know why I haven’t had this sensation anyplace else; it is as if the Great Wall and the Roman Ruins of Central Europe pale in comparison to a simple Incan farming terrace or storage house. Maybe it is because, unlike most “historical sites” (a facetious term for tourist trap), the farming terraces built by the Incans (and Wasis before them) more than 400 years ago are still being farmed by their ancestors today. Or, it could be that the Cuzco Valley is so beautiful that everything appeared magical?

The second reason I mention the age of the cathedral is that it was designed in a Gothic-Roman style, but also has many baroque and renaissance flourishes, and this hodge-podge of styles gives it a unique charm. There are thirteen chapels inside the Cathedral, and as each of the chapels was constructed at different periods over a 300-year period, the artistic styles inside the Cathedral are a wonder. No pictures are allowed inside the Cathedral, so I will list the things I don’t want to forget.

First, the choir. An impressive, large wooden structure that faces the main altar. Statues of the past bishops stretch to the ceiling, while the choir seats are carved in a gothic style with various phallic symbols carved under the arms of the chairs. I couldn’t get enough of looking at this.

Then, there is the silver altar. Weighing about 800 pounds, it is a masterpiece in silver. I honestly have no words to describe it, but in the darkened cathedral, it is light and beauty.

Paintings frame the ceilings, walls, and columns of the entire cathedral, reflecting the stylistic changes of four centuries. Of course the most famous is the Peruvian Last Supper, a traditional last supper painting except that the main dish served to Jesus and the disciples is guinea pig. Cuzco is famous for its 17th century painting style, referred to as the Cuzqueno School, a mixture of Spanish and indigenous styles, most painted by indigenous painters. Many of the paintings were used to convey religious stories and ideas to the native population that didn’t understand Spanish or the theological concepts of Catholicism. The baroque era paintings were my favorite – amazing colors and large concepts conveyed on canvas – paintings that depict Catholic stories but seem to tell the stories of the native Cuzco population at the same time.

Everything in the cathedral is fascinating, so I will stop before I bore everyone by detailing everything. But, I can’t stop before I tell the story of the chapel of San Antonio, where single women write their names on slips of paper and place them with a gift on the altar, hoping that their offering will bring them a husband. E wrote @’s name on a slip and left it on the altar, even though @ is committed to remain single.

Here is a sample of the pictures. As soon as I figure out the best way to display them in photobucket, I will post the link to the full series.

Looking at the Plaza de Armas from the steps of the cathedral:















The cathedral from the plaza:















Detail from the Chapel of Jesus, Maria y Jose, the entrance to the main cathedral:

Out and About in Lima

Our first full day in Lima we went to check out the Indian Market on Av. Petit Thouars that was recommended to us. The plan was to scope out what we were going to buy later in the week when we returned to Lima, but how could I resist the one-of-a-kind pink mirror in the silver shop? I highly recommend the silver shop in the first shopping mall on the corner, it is in the back corner and the sell the most gorgeous mirrors and unique jewelry, as well as gifts for men. I was on the lookout for Incan shoes, these great multi-colored woven shoes that look like creepers, and found a pair, but unlike American shoe stores, Peruvian she stores seem to stock only one or two pairs of shoes in small sizes, and what you see on the rack is what they sell. I saw the shoes from the coffee bar on the street, and while I can’t remember the name of the bar, I can highly recommend it as they make a great cappuccino, and sell beer, wine, mixed drinks, and Piscos.

From the Indian market, we saw the “real” Lima, the Lima that the guidebooks tell you to stay away from due to the threat of being robbed. Of course we walked over there as we all love to look at local markets, grocery stores and drug stores when we travel. I have no idea what everyone found fascinating in the first store we stopped at but I wasn’t interested, so I began to wander. All the shops seemed the same to me, small tiny shops that sell tea, cleaning products, and various meat and dairy products, but one shop I walked into had these large purple olives in purple liquid, and the shopkeeper insisted that I try some. I tried to say no, but after a few minutes I realized that there was no polite way to leave the store without trying the olives (nor was he about to let me leave without doing so), so I did. DANG! Olives marinated in vinegar, which doesn’t sound good but they were amazing. If I had a refrigerator in the hotel room I might have bought some for snacks the rest of the week. I then moved on to try the dried olives with carrots and onions in the same vinegar stew – even better!

Realize that at this point during the trip I have, in the first 12 hours here, violated most of the rules of what the guidebooks say is safe travel. I have walked in a dangerous city by myself after dark, I am shopping in a dangerous part of the city (dangerous for tourists, at least), and I am eating food off the street. Let me point out that the olives were not refrigerated; they were sitting on top of a counter in a store with no doors on a day where the temperature was well over 80 degrees. I had serious doubts that the olives were made to order that day, and because vinegar is such a good pickling agent they could have been there for days. This should have been a recipe for stomach disaster, but it wasn’t. In fact, because I had no problems, I continued to eat street food during the rest of the trip, and like most countries, the street food in Peru is amazing….

Walking back to the hotel we stopped at Café Manolo on Avenida Lorca, a café I recommend for lunch and especially for sweets and ice cream. It is an ordinary café like any other café anywhere in the world, but it is clean, comfortable, the food is fresh and good, and I was helped by a surly waitress. At one point I commented that it was obvious the waitress didn’t like me (she seemed to like everyone else), and immediately after that comment she grabbed my backpack and chained it to my chair (my comment was in English, so I know that even if she was in earshot she didn’t understand me). In Lima, most restaurants have leashes that resemble short dog leashes to attach your purse to your chair so it can’t be stolen. Hah! It wasn’t that she didn’t like me, she was just surly in a way that is endearing in Las Vegas but disconcerting in Lima.

Lima is a great walking city. There is plenty to see, the locals are friendly and love to talk and show off their city, and despite what the guidebooks say about Peru (and Lima in particular) being dangerous and not very safe for tourists, it is no more or less safe than any other large city in the world. I didn’t take any more precaution than I take at home and felt perfectly safe. Of course, it helps to smile and know how to speak a few phrases in Spanish….

Here are some of @'s pictures of Lima.

The Love Park statue at the Love Park. There is no mystery how either got their name. I don't like the statue, but you can see how gorgeous the ocean is....


Another shot of the Love Park.

Bollywood/Opera

JR had an extra ticket to the opera this weekend and invited me. I knew it would suck, I dont like Aida and our local professional opera company sucks, but any day hanging with JR is a good day so I went. I managed to get completely drunk before the opera off three sips of the pre-show martini that JR made (damn body, I have no idea how much alcohol I can handle anymore, especially after losing more weight last week.) So, as I am drunkenly watching the opera, trying to stay awake, my thoughts wandering, the one thing I realized is how much opera is like Bollywood.

When I was a teenager I thought of becoming an opera singer, and I was a pretty decent mezzo-soprano. I have always loved opera, the way that a well-done aria can bring you to tears or give you shivers up your back, the beauty of dozens of dancers and singers on stage in remarkable costumes. About four years ago I saw a movie on TV, Dil Chata Hai, that introduced me to Bollywood. I have always been a fan of all things South Asian, the food, the music, the clothes, but I had always been to afraid to pick a movie off the shelf of the stores in Little India until I saw this film. I love Bollywood. I love the dancing, the music, the way that most scenes are filmed to take your breath away with beautiful people and scenery.

And, while half-drunk at the opera yesterday, I realized that Bollywood is opera, and opera is Bollywood, that two things I love are actually the same.

Two women love the same man. Two men love the same woman. A man an a woman love each other. Love is complicated by familial ties, nationalism, money, prior promises of betrothal, political machinations. The plot of the story is driven by music; singing the tool to convey emotion, the actors motivations, the love between two people. Melodrama, a writers tool to create an emotional response through music, drives the plot. Death may occur, but when it does it usually unites two lovers, even if they die together literally or symbolically. The plot of an opera or a Bollywood movie? I think the answer is both.

I could get academic and write an analysis on how the two genres are related through their usage of vocal and instrumental music to drive plots, how scenery and costumes are as important as acting in telling a story, about how the two genres have been formed and shaped by historical influences and arts, but what is driving my writing is purely visceral. Both opera and Bollywood appeal to me because I love music - all music. I love when my senses are manipulated by a beautiful aria or song, making me feel more compassion for or connection to the protagonist(s) of a story than I would if the story were told in a more traditional, spoken format. I love exotic locations and costumes. I love a good love story. I love it when the boy gets the girl, or the girl gets the boy, even if they only get each other in death. Even if there is no happy ending and the boy and/or the girl only get heartache/pain/separation/etc., I love the spectacle leading up to the tragic ending. I love the intentional beauty of both.

Opera and Bollywood are completely different, and I could write a different post about the differences between the two. But, the elements that I love about both are the same, and yesterday I realized that my life-long love of opera left me vulnerable to the charms of Bollywood, and this is a passion, like opera, that continually grows stronger.

I wonder if Shahrukh Khan can sing tenor?

Does Sickness Count as Holiday?

Allergies, asthma and anemia, the Three "A"s that rule and confound my life. Two of the three are biting me in the ass right now, and the third will become an issue if I don’t get well enough to cook soon.

Does sickness count as holiday? In theory, I suppose it does. I have been out of work for two days, in bed for most of the last four, finally felled by the sinus infection that has been dogging me since mid-February. The combination of rain, 80-degree days, and then more rain kicked up my allergies enough to inflame the sinus infection, and as usual, sinusitis attacks my poor asthma damaged lungs and turns to bronchitis. Anemia will soon follow as I am too sick to shop or cook the food I need to keep my blood healthy. Ah, the Three "A"s work in tandem once again.

Does sickness count as holiday? I haven’t been to work, have been too sick to work from home, too sick to take care of my home, sick enough that my couch is now bed, dining room table, and place to watch TV and DVDs when I am conscious. Unlike a holiday, there has been no catching up on reading, no exploration, little learning. I have no idea what is going on with the Iran nuke crisis, the upcoming Peruvian runoff elections, the upcoming Mexican elections, Amir Khan’s entry into the Narmada Dams situation, Donald Rumsfield, Sonia Ghandi, or Nepal – all stories that I would be following closely if I weren’t asleep most of the time. This doesn’t sound like a holiday to me.

I should be writing about my trips, that was the whole point of this blog. In the last two months I have been to two countries on two continents. But this is my blog and today I figure I should write about my mini-vacation at home this week, which includes watching two great movies, Men with Guns by John Sayles and Kilometer 0 from Spain.

It is hard to believe that Men with Guns is an American film made by an American filmmaker. I rented this movie because it is one of the few John Sayles films that I haven’t seen and I should never be surprised by the beauty he can create while delivering subtle political messages that are never overt or preachy. What he delivers in this film is something that I have never seen by an American moviemaker, and something that even South American filmmakers have difficulty delivering, the ability to translate magical realism to film. This magic was what made this movie great and both took my breath away and made me weep with surprise toward the end of the film.

The translation is subtle, and you don’t realize it is happening until the end of the movie. The film itself is a story of a politically naïve doctor in a nameless South or Central American country who decides to track down the seven Indian students he trained as medics years earlier to provide services in the rural, war torn parts of his country. What he discovers on his road trip is not surprising to anyone who is familiar with the guerilla movements and political dictatorships that plagued Central and South America in the last part of the 20th century, what is surprising is that the film manages to tell the story of the villagers, guerillas, and army without taking sides or preaching or becoming dogmatic. The doctor is the most human protagonist I have seen on film in quite some time. He is not changed by his experience, nor is he looking for change, what he is looking for is a chance to view his legacy, and the story of his search to see the fruits of his life’s work and his naiveté regarding violence and poverty that effect his efforts drives this film, keeping it from being the usual journey of self-discovery and awakening.

Besides telling amazing stories, John Sayles has the ability to use scenery to advance a scene, to tell a story, to explain in pictures what doesn’t need to be explained in words. Where other filmmakers use scenery as symbolism, twice in this movie I was awestruck by long shots of mountains that told a story without using words, the mountains emoting feelings and speaking as well as any great actor. The scenery is the uncredited actor in this film. As in Matewan, the quiet scenes of people going about their daily lives do not serve to further the plot or enhance the story, they are the story – and the film’s characters do no exist without the landscape, the farms, and the villages that form their ideas and lives.

What does any of this have to do with magical realism? The story is a straightforward road story, but the secondary story used to narrate the road trip could only have come from the hands of a gifted American novelist – one from Mexico, Central, or South America. Movies and adaptations based on the writings of any of the novelists (Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Isabelle Allende, etc.) who write in this genre are always lacking, as if the mystery and magic of the world needs to be explained away or enhanced with CGI, deflating the beauty and wonder of the genre. I am surprised that the first time that I have seen magical realism translated well on the screen it is by an American writer and filmmaker creating his first movie in a language other than his own.

Kilometer 0 has nothing in common with magical realism, but it does have an element of fantasy that transforms this ordinary story of missed connections and people looking for love, sex and success into an entertaining and interesting film. The lives of fourteen people intersect ant Kilometer 0, a plaza in central Madrid, and even though all fourteen people miss their correct connections, they meet with the people they need to know at that moment in their lives. What could have been trite farce is instead interesting, driven by stories that don’t move in the direction that you think that they are moving and by great acting by the entire cast, with a surprise twist at the end that made me laugh out loud in joy. This movie will never make anyone’s best of lists, but it is an entertaining way to pass two hours and is emblematic of the wonderful but little-known movies being made in Spain today.

So there it is, amateur movie reviews from my sickbed. More Lima stories and pictures to come next time….

First Day in Lima – Solo Walks

I woke up early from something that resembled sleep and then ate a bad, bad breakfast at the hotel. I had read that Peru is not a coffee culture, and that is an understatement. The stuff served at the hotel resembled soy sauce and tasted as bitter. It took me a couple of days to learn that it needed to be watered down (which explains why hot water was always served in the neighboring carafe) and was only palatable with lots of sugar. @ went back to the room to wait for everyone else to get ready to go explore the town, and I went for a walk. I knew we were near the beach so I head down that direction. It was still early so there was very little happening and few people out.

If Miraflores is one of Peru’s nicest areas it was hard to tell. All the homes have tall fences with interior patios, so you can’t see most of the homes, just fences. Many of the homes have private guard gates in front, as well, and I began to think that there was some validity in the reports of Lima being a high-crime area. But from what I can see the homes are gorgeous, and everyone seems to have a small garden, be it flowers or succulents.

The beach was a short walk from the hotel, and I can’t wait to go back to surf! The plan was to spend this day surfing, but stuff happens and I was in no physical condition to surf this trip. To my right was Barranquito, a point break that reminded me of Huntington Beach, except there was an additional outside break that would require a bit of a paddle out (three breaks?!?) Paddling out at Barranquito is well worth it because it breaks left, and clean. But, just like California in the summer, it was also in the two to three foot range. To my left was Waikiki/Miraflores. The morning tide wasn’t friendly to this break, but it appears to pick up in the afternoon. I hung at the beach for a while until I realized that I had sunscreen in the room and needed to head back.

The second solo walk of the day was in the early afternoon when everyone was napping. I decided to check out the beach and also find someplace that looked interesting for dinner. By this time I was falling in love with Miraflores. I hate to keep comparing Peru to Southern California, but I live in one of the most beautiful places on earth, and Lima might as well be here. While the sun comes out during the day, the mornings and afternoons tended to get overcast, and a nice breeze comes off the ocean at about 4:00 in the afternoon, just like home. As it turns out we were staying just a block from a couple of neighborhoods of cevicherias and bars, all colorful and inviting, and I also ran into a couple of great shops selling pictures, painting and crafts of local artists.

I also ran into something unexpected, creepy people. During this walk I was approached by three men, and all of them gave me the creepy feeling that your parents warn you about when you are a child, the feeling that sets off the fight or flight feelings in your body. I am a rather intimidating person, and I have spent the last year trying to become less so. I am tall, in shape, and tend to wear a look on my face that warns people to approach at their own peril. That is the look before I give the stony-eyed I am going to hurt you look. And, while I am working on being less intimidating, I fully try to be as unapproachable as possible when walking in unfamiliar places so as to protect myself from strange situations. The first two men were creepy but quickly backed off when I gave the look and a terse response to their “hellos”. The third man approached me for a conversation, and that is when I got really scared. Everything inside told me to avoid this person and try to extract myself safely from the bench I was sitting on and make a quick getaway. The important point I haven’t brought up yet is that all these men were American, and they resembled expatriates and not tourists. The third man approached and asked if I was American, and my response was, “Lo siento, pero hablo muy pequeno Ingles.” He asked where I was from, and I told him in Spanish that I was from Buenos Aires (adopting the Argentinean accent I used during the rest of the trip as I was really much more freaked out than I led on to my friends.) I was giving him the stare, and after a few more minutes of trying to engage me in conversation he gave up and left. This isn’t the end of this story and I will expand on this at a later time….

What was I doing sitting on the bench? Watching the dog on the roof next door! Peruanos love their dogs, and they walk them everywhere. They are also very conscientious and I never saw dog waste on the street! Many houses and businesses in Lima keep dogs on the roof of their houses as theft deterrents, and only about half the time did I see the dogs leashed.

Enough of my walks, here are some pictures of Lima.

Pictures from the front of the Hotel San Antonio:



I love this shot because it is the front of Cafe Amore, the best place I found in Lima for coffee, sweets, appetizers, breakfast, and Pisco.


Sunset from my hotel room window:


Peruvian security system:


As usual, the gambling gods were looking out for me and I won money at this casino down the street from our hotel:

Lima - Night One

All the literature I read before leaving for Peru pointed out the high level of crime in Lima and how a traveler should take precautions. So, I took the normal precautions, but nothing out of the ordinary. That said, once we arrived at the hotel I promptly put down my suitcase and went for a walk. Keep in mind that it was sometime after 1:00 A.M. and, because of everything I had read, my walk consisted of standing in front of the hotel and watching.

We stayed at the Jose Antonio Hotel in the Miraflores district. Miraflores is the ritzy area of Lima, but it is hard to tell at night what makes it so nice. There is a nightclub, La Seda, near our hotel, and watching the crowd coming and going I realized that Miraflores may be the Spanish translation for West Hollywood. There is nothing out of the ordinary here except the homeless guy directing traffic for tips.

And, about Lima traffic, one thing that is difficult to get used to is the constant honking. We noticed this as our van entered the city from the airport. At almost every intersection the cars honk. It took me almost a few days to realize that the cars honk because stop signs – pare instead of alto by the way – are a suggestion. As are lanes and every law of traffic except turn signals.

Realizing the area was somewhat safe, I walked to the corner to watch the people come and go and realized that Lima was very much like Southern California, except that I was in a tank top at 1:00 A.M., one block from the beach, and comfortable without a sweater.

A word of travel advice: be rested before you go on holiday. I had worked two 80 hour work weeks before leaving and had worked more than 60 hours a week for the preceding two months before that. Little did I know that being so exhausted would prevent me from getting a good night’s sleep the entire time I was in Peru....