TUNNEL OF FUN (California edition)

This last week really did fly by and I'm feeling sad and a bit guilty that I didn't have the chance to see or call everybody I had hoped to while in the States. But I suppose that is the nature of the tunnel of fun, what with it being all tunnel-shaped and lacking places to stop and make a phone call and such.

L.A. was pretty laid back, as I had expected and hoped. Pops and I spent a lot of time driving around the city running errands, but at least I got to stock up on a bunch of stuff I needed for my trip.

Back at his house, my father made me do horribly boring things like back up my computer, and I made him eat his vegetables. I swam in the pool a few times and allowed the concentrated chlorine to temporarily burn the Southern California perma-scowl off my face. It was, as they say, all good. On Friday we went to Cobras & Matadors for the ultimate Ryan Dobosh dining experience. The food was excellent, the people pretty and shiny, and the service incomparable. According to Ryan, we were "demanding and unruly" customers, which was pretty much our plan.

Ryan and I hung out a few times and he took me to this nice place in the hills above the city (I did not do this, but I like it).

As usual, Ryan also introduced me to a bunch of cool stuff, especially this, which is seriously one of the most amazing things I've ever seen. Here are some pictures.


Dude is heading to New York next week for a movie and I am so very proud. I will miss my ry-ry greatly, and have informed him that he is either (a) less of a man than Mark or (b) coming to China some time for a visit. It's really up to him to choose.

Nothing against these fine men, but by far the most exciting/bizarre part of my stay in California was the drive through it. I found a ride from L.A. to S.F. on Craiglist and met the driver, Victoria, and the co-passenger, Vincent, at 5am on Sunday at a gas station in the valley. A blond actress/model/dancer at Bar Mitzvahs, Victoria was extremely talkative and a rather erratic driver. She also hadn't slept all night out of excitement for the days' event. For the first time in nearly a year she was to meet her close friend and the subject of her documentary without a plate of glass between them.... on death row at San Quentin. Yep. If only I had the time I could share with you all of the hilarious jokes that can be made about the severed limbs (and other parts) of prostitutes by a serial killer and the only woman who understands him.

Here's the website for the film. She was planning on entering it at Sundance this week.

And it gets so much better. You must watch this delightful commercial Victoria made while a "spokesperson" for Gro-bust.

I challenge you to disagree with the makers of this film that "Shakespearian-trained, British bombshell Victoria Redstall is the only actress in North America who could possibly conquer the complexities of the [role created for her]", particularly when they go on to cite her role as the Mermaid in Uh-Oh!

As remarkable as the drive was, I was rather disappointed that because Victoria was running late she had to drop me off with all of my copious luggage not at Vanessa's house, but at 16th and Mission, in the middle of one of San Francisco's least savory neighborhoods. As I waited and waited for a cab to pass by, the intermingling aromas of urine, vomit, and fried chicken obliterated any desire I may have had for Sunday brunch. On the plus side, a fashion-conscious crazy homeless dude who passed by me was made to remark "hey! your hair matches your suitcase!". It's about time someone noticed. Geez!

I was giddy with relief when I finally arrived at Vanessa's beautiful house in the Sunset, just a few blocks from Golden Gate Park. I would have liked to relax, but I had a deadline to make for my new part-time job editing texts on history and folklore in and around the Arabian Peninsula (long story). I had unexpectedly received a huge file a few days before and it ended up taking up quite a lot of time this week that I would have like to spend with Vanessa. I've developed a terrible habit of referring to my employers as "the Arabs" (its no excuse but I don't even know what country they are based in) , and so as I moped over my work duties one evening at a restaurant, Vanessa suddenly exclaimed loudly "I hate the Arabs!", a look of horror appearing on her face before the words were even out of her mouth. A terrible habit I tell you.

In the end I did get to spend time with Vanessa, but since I stayed at her house working a lot, I got to see much more of Stewart, man cat extraordinaire:


AKA

General Stewharto
Mary Stewart Mastercat
Stewy Lewis and the News

One night I took a gritty and exploitative series of photographs after Punky Stewster went on a catnip bender:


I know, it's a little hard to look at. That's addiction for you people.

It's tough being an urban cat, I'm sure, but really, San Francisco is such a lovely city. I'm pissed that I hardly got to enjoy the lovely weather or go for walks around the neighborhood or out to the ocean. I'm sad to have had to sacrifice my time with V-bug too. It's been 13 years since I met Vanessa and I still remember her passionate advocacy of worms for our high school's compost bins at the ECO club meeting where we first met. Sure we spend more time these days talking about I.P.A. and wedge heels than food chain ecology and folk music but even shallow, decadent bitches need best friends.


We didn't get up to much that was tremendously exciting, but there wasn't a bad day in the bunch and we even created a new word (adjacction, n. the act of breaking up with someone who you are not actually dating) even though I can't imagine when either of us would ever need to use it! We also got to celebrate Vanessa getting the final ok this week for her residency at an artist's colony in New Hampshire in this fall. I'm sure I'll think of her having her lunch delivered daily to her cabin in a picnic basket every time I find a girl baby on my Beijing doorstep.

One evening Vanessa had plans to go to a baseball game with a manfriend and so I got taken out to dinner by wine merchant and man-about-town Justin Beem. Although I would like to think that Justin was vying for an appearance on the blog by taking me to a fancy restaurant and then a glamorous rooftop bar, I'm afraid he might just be that much of a gentleman (but JB, next time can't we just go to a Haricot Verts all-you-can-eat joint?).

That's enough for now. I'm leaving in a few hours and it is starting to make me feel a bit sad. And that just won't do. I'll leave you with this.

JOURNEY TO THE EAST

The east of Asia that is (yeah, I know I'm blowing all your minds with this multi-centric perspective). I arrived in Seattle on the morning of Monday the 13th, eight minutes before I left Taipei, thanks to the magic of international date-line crossing time traveling.

I spent just over a week in my hometown and am overwhelmed with all of the things to tell, but I arrived in L.A. yesterday and am now busy trying to choke down my loathing for this city and keeping my father from putting bacon in my oatmeal (Oh how I wish I was kidding). So this will be a brief roundup with many excellent pictures. Enjoy.

So...... After going through immigration and convincing the dude at customs that I just really, really liked tea, my mother picked me up and we went out for lunch with my awesome little bro. I was happy to be reunited with them as well as with Skipper, the sweetest dog/polar bear hybrid in South Seattle.

Melissa picked me up from my mom's on Monday afternoon and we went straight to Montana and John's new pad, now known as Ninja HQ. I was rather the jet-lagged wastrel that evening, but Melissa was kind enough to make me a tasty stir-fry, which helped ease the continental transition. The next evening Montana and I ate sushi on her deck. I really don't deserve these good and kind people.

On Tuesday I got to hang out with my dear old friend Laura Etling, she of the powerful presence, sparkling conversation, and take-no-prisoners pipes. She also has rad red sunglasses which can start a party all by themselves.

After the next few days of pre-departure doctor's appointments and groggy socializing I was strangely excited to help Mark move on Thursday from House of Dudes to a cute new studio apartment. I had been promised a couch-moving and this I was denied, but I was easily placated by a home-cooked meal (thanks Jill!) and a visit to Mark's sister, the elusive and peripatetic Lieta. I had an appointment mid-afternoon for a haircut with Kitty Hawk, and she finished with a blow-dry that left me dramatically swishing my glossy mane for the rest of the day. After the haircut and the move, Mark and I met up with Montana and headed to the International District for an gallery opening. We couldn't decide if we were too cool for school,

or as excited as Japanese tourists,

to see pretentious art involving a woman in a harness bouncing up and down off of a large mound of dirt. I think we were a little of both.

I had some work to do on Friday but later in the day met up with John for a pilgrimage to Easy Street Records and then with Emmy for a couple of drinks at the relocated and much-improved Cha Cha. Mark had kindly arranged a returning/departing get-together for me that evening at the Rosebud and thus I held court for several hours as all sorts of pals stopped in for a drink or three. I must give special recognition to Brendan, who came out to join us even though he had had ankle surgery that morning. Many, many pictures were taken. Here are some of my favorites:

John and Montana work an Engrish t-shirt in the foreground while Paul and Mark talk Turkey in the background

Emmy and Kirk (they really do like each other, promise)

See! I told you so!

Jose Bold, Rock Star Extraordinaire

I keep telling Montana she has a real flair for the dramatic

I had a lovely time, but Mark seemed a little disappointed by the lack of under-aged ass

Thanks also to Joanna, Lieta, Mike, Evan, Laura and Mark H., for showing me such a good time.

Saturday was probably my favorite day of the trip. The weather was beautiful -- though actually the weather was perfect almost every day of the trip and I couldn't stop gazing at the clouds and the mountains and all the clean, clear air:

Anyhow, it was an ideal day for a trip out to Bainbridge Island to visit the August Moon Teahouse and deliver the Bao Zhong tea I brought from Taiwan. Montana developed a strange obsession with the box of tea on the ferry ride over and in order to distract her from chucking it overboard in a patriotic fervor I indulged her with participation in hijinks and photographs.

The August Moon wasn't open when I left town and I was so happy to see it finished. Had I more time during this trip I am sure I would have made a few more visits to sample more of the teas and snacks Alia has put together and to just relax or read. I dream that someday I will be able to sit on the patio of the teahouse overlooking Eagle Harbor and work on my dissertation.

Luckily it wasn't very busy when we came in and so I got to catch up with Alia and introduce her and Montana. We all tasted the tea I brought and then Miss di Limonada and I shared some Hao Ya and Thai Tulsi and nibbled on one sweet and one savory scone.

Alia's son Franklin took this picture of the two of us with Alia and her mother in the background.

The hours flew by as the cups and pots were emptied and we were giddily happy and plenty goofy on the ferry back to Seattle.

On Sunday I had brunch with my very pregnant and very lovely friend Stephanie, than spent the afternoon hanging out at my mom's and re-packing for the next 10-11 months. That evening was the second of the gatherings Mark planned for me, this one held at the swanky Sun Liquor. I was glad that a few people who couldn't make Friday were able to come out. I enjoyed Rachel's stories and drink advice and I was glad that the D.S. showed up so he could dominate, er, I mean enliven the event.

He's a sneaky one that Dave, but I must say he looked quite nice in the "Meep" mask I brought back from Taiwan.

Sunday was great, and really the whole damn weekend was grand. Monday was good too, but does anyone still care about Monday at this point? I'm tired and rather tired of myself too. So much for keeping things brief. I just got too much love for y'all.

I'll be back to more regular posts soon. Until then, here is a picture of two of my favorite Monday night dates, Melissa and Ben the bunny.

ONE LAST LOVELY WEEKEND

Most of the people I love are asleep right now but I am wide awake in my room in Taipei, packing, and plotting. I'm trying not to get down on myself for not making as much progress in Chinese this summer as I had hoped. It has been a very rewarding summer and there is no use in pouting over my failures, whether real or perceived. This last weekend was even more jam-packed than usual with good people, interesting places, and tasty things.

Things started out slowly on Friday when I finally met up with my China advisor (distinct from my Economic Anthropology advisor) who arrived in Taipei a few weeks ago to start her newest research project involving immigrants, citizenship and the politics of marriage. She came with her husband and their 8-month old daughter, who I spent a few pleasant hours babysitting on Friday afternoon. The child of two PhDs, she is obviously smart and curious, and is also a very happy baby with a habit of waking up in an incredibly good mood, all squeals and smiles. She also moves like a guerilla. Whenever she spies something interesting, she uses a combination of rolling and crawling and climbing to get to it. Georgia will know what I am talking about.

I had dinner later with her parents and though I was deathly intimated they did their best to make me feel like a peer. I left feeling wonderfully inspired by their intelligence, principles and commitment and generally hopeful about the future. Then I went home and drank beer and watched a pirated film on the web-o-tron.

Saturday saw the completion of more errands, including an afternoon visit to a tea proprietor near Nanshijiao. Alia had asked me to bring some Bao Jong back from Taiwan for her and sent me to do some tasting at Mr. Fu's shop. I sat on a narrow bench while Mr. Fu prepared several bowls of loose leaves with wide porcelain spoons for tasting. I was a bit torn between two of the teas. One had an extremely delicate nose with just a hint of lilac, as if it was coming off of a breeze, but the body was rather flat. Mr. Fu thought it was the better tea, but seemed to agree that the other, with a more robustly lilac nose and sweetly vegetal taste, would be more popular in the States. I'm a little nervous though, since I just bought a whole bunch of tea on Alia's behalf. If you go to August Moon in Winslow (and you should! go! go! go!), make sure to tell Alia how delicious the Bao Jong is. I like this whole glamorous anthropologist/international tea taster gig and I'd like to keep it up.


I met up with Carrie later that afternoon and we boarded a bus for Jiufen. I napped happily, perhaps because I was coming down from my caffeine buzz. I woke up to the sharp to and fro of mountain switchbacks and looked outside the window to see this:


Jiufen is a picturesque cliffside town with gorgeous ocean views. The village is built into the rocky hillside and looks a little like a Mediterranean town, only with temples.


Beautiful, scenic, and not too far from the city, it is of course ripe for colonization:


On the weekends, the medina-like maze of old market streets selling tourist kitsch and foods and sweets unique to the area is thick with day-trippers.


There were stone steps connecting the alleyways, and lots of cats milling around. I took advantage of the opportunity to shake my favorite Carly Jayne-made bustle skirt in the faces of all those we overtook (Carly: you need to get in on the Asian market - everyone adores your skirts here!). Carrie and I got a snack of chewy taro and green and red beans at a place near these steps. We ordered our food in the front, from a handful of teenage boys who kept trying to upstage each other with ever more boisterous voicings of "hello!" apparently meant to demonstrate not only their impressive English skills, but their correct identification of me as a native English speaker. Escaping the proud young men, we reached the restaurant's dining area through a long corridor and what was obviously the living quarters of a family or two. We walked right in front of some grandparents watching television before we made it to the back room, with a wall of windows and a pretty view:


Here is Carrie and some toothy chick in the restaurant.


Jiufen is also well known for its teahouses, and we went to one that had been recommended to Carrie, meeting her very friendly and charming mother and aunt there. You can see a woman in the window of the teahouse we went to here, beckoning to passers-by from above the alleyway.


Here is the courtyard of the same teahouse:

I say it very rarely, so know that I mean it when I see that the place and the evening were approaching the realm of the magical. It also had almost an amusement park feel because of all the kids and lights and sweet things to eat. While we were waiting for the bus home, I wandered around an arcade with about a dozen of these rip-off claw games, which are everywhere in Taipei.


I also watched some kids play this game, kind of like Dance, Dance, Revolution, only with drums.


Drum game from Le Kougre and Vimeo.

A good night's sleep later, and it was my last day in Taiwan. Everything was so bittersweet as I said my goodbyes to the grocery store, the night market, the smell of Osmanthus flowers as I turn the last corner on my way home, the smell of stinky tofu from the vendors on Shida road...

I also made some time for one last excursion -- to the Martyr's Shrine;


I had heard they had an impressive changing of the guards ceremony and felt I hadn't quite got my fill of shiny helmets. At the shrine, one set of guards stands watch over the inner sanctum, while another pair mans the front gate ("watch" might not be the right word for it since they must stand stock-still and stare straight ahead, facing each other). Here are the guards at the front gate, swarmed with bystanders just before the ceremony begins.


These guards get a lot more exercise than those stationed at the Sun Yat-Sen Memorial, starting out in the front, marching all the way to the inner shrine to relieve the guards there, and then back to relieve those at the front gate. As they march across the square, white-shirted minders clear the way, brush aside the children, and make sure every detail is perfect.


I took a series of little movies of the various stages if you would like to watch them.


Changing of the Guards, Martyrs Shrine (1) from Le Kougre and Vimeo.


Changing of the Guards, Martyrs Shrine (2) from Le Kougre and Vimeo.


Changing of the Guards, Martyrs Shrine (3) from Le Kougre and Vimeo.

Leaving the inner shrine:


I love the reflections off of the helmets:


Returning to the front gate:


After re-kindling my newfound appreciation of nationalistic performances, I met up with Fiona and Yi cheng for a low-key dinner at a nice cafe in my neighborhood with an impressive selection of Belgian beers.


It wasn't a particularly exciting last evening, but a quiet and happy one, enjoying the company of my friends and our always interesting conversations. I know I have been lucky to find such cool people here, and I will miss them very much.

And if I ever find myself missing Ethan, my hard-partying, band practice in the living room-having, stumbling home at about the time I left for school expat-roommate, I am lucky enough that he sometime borrowed my camera for his all-night excursions, and that I would discover images like this one in the morning when it was returned.


So goodbye Taipei. Goodbye Osmanthus flowers and stinky tofu. Goodbye friendly citizens of the R.O.C.

Watch out for those typhoons and earthquakes and crazy drivers, ok?