I Don't Like to Travel. I Like to Live in a Country.

People are surprised when I say that I don't like to travel because they think that I have traveled a lot and that I've enjoyed it.  What I've enjoyed is living in countries.  Feeling settled.  Feeling a part of the community.  Spending the least amount of time in transit.

I liked living in Tonga for two years, in Spain for one, in Algeria for two years.

Later, I felt I was living in Oaxaca for the month I was there because I was living in one home for the full time, and the same was true of Nicoya for the same period of time.

Even when I was with Annie and Jean Paul in Andresy and later in Brittany, I had the feeling of living, not just traveling through, and that's how I felt about the week Javier and I were in Bremen with Jutta and Andreas and the week we Anmiroti were at Rosa's in Barcelona last September.

I felt home in those places, and the excursions we took were from home.

In spite of my preference for living rather than in traveling through, I enjoyed the trips to Fiji, New Zealand, Iceland, Samoa  long ago, and the trips to Cuba, Chile, Alajuela, China, Ecuador,  Peru, Switzerland  more recently.

But I prefer living, and this trip that I am about to take makes me yearn for my return!

I've enjoyed the preliminary walks in San Francisco, but they were taken from the comfort of my home, where I was sustained by all the rituals and all the familiar "aids" that make up my day .

Travel:  The opportunity to get away from everything that brings me comfort.

(If I have time, I'll post another blog on the dopamine that comes from learning while living and (gulp) even while traveling.)

3 Girls Theater Company--Lots of Talent and Stimulation, but Getting There Was NOT Half of the Fun

Yesterday I took Elma, a friend straight back from  three months in Nice, France, to a festival for the fifth anniversary of 3 Girls Theater Company, New Works Festival Women & the Body Politic, where we saw very good readings of very good plays at the Thick House on 18th near Rhode Island.

It was from that theater after seeing The Most Dangerous Highway in the World that another friend, Shehla, and I had a crash on the freeway on Mother's Day, so I wasn't anxious to take the same route.
But Google directions indicated streets off the freeway that we couldn't find, so I'm glad the plays were so good as compensation.

New Works Festival Women & the Body Politic. 

We saw Slice, Written & Directed by Robin Bradford with Adrienne Walters, Cat Brooks, and Douglas Giorias (Mary Powelson reading stage directions) and Country Matters  by Lee Brady with Lorri Holt, Charles Dean, Nancy Madden, and Dennis McIntyre, directed by Andrea Gordon.  We also saw  Maureen and Charles Rooney, who know both Lee Brady and her husband from work and from playing music. 


http://www.sfgate.com/performance/article/3-Girls-Theatre-focuses-on-women-new-works-9170879.php

Travel: The Chance to Leave Behind All the Comforts of Home

I love my home, and I love my daily rituals, and maybe that's why when I think of all the wonderful things I'm looking forward to--seeing Northern Spain, walking the Camino from Cebreiro to Santiago, seeing Rosa and (I hope) Annie in Madrid, being with Annie and Jutta in Paris (probably not in Ardeche, the way things are looking now)--what I'm most looking forward to is coming home!

My attachment to my home may have something to do with my age, but all my life I've preferred living in a place--Tonga, Spain, Algeria--to passing through.

This trip there will be a lot of passings through.

Paraphernalia for the Camino de Santiago de Compostela

Europeans may be in for culture shock when I walk on Spanish and French soil next month, but at least I'm all dressed for it, and I've loved all the pre-Camino walks in San Francisco.

Yesterday went went from Castro and Market up Noe to Alta Vista Park and on through the Presidio and to Golden Gate Bridge and then to Russian Hill and Chinatown before hitting the Embarcadero Station on Market for a ride back to our respective homes.

But before we took off, I posed with all my new paraphernalia:  My new black backpack, my sun hat, the "bladder" of the camel pak coming from the backpack, my camel pak, REI shoes and socks--socks that may be responsible for the somewhat alarming rash I have on my calf above my ankle.

I never think "Get off my back!" about people pestering me, but I do think it about backpacks, so it was a big step to finally accept the necessity of buying and using one.  

Traveling to Find Out What I Do that Most Annoys and Alienates People

Travel:  The opportunity to escape everything that brings me joy and comfort.

Well, maybe not joy.  There may be joy on other shores, even if the person I'll be with the first two weeks  really doesn't like me, as he's shown with responses like "Obviously!" and "You've been corrected on the pronunciation of that street name, and you're still saying it wrong."

There may be joy even though my Spanish and French may annoy more than they help.

There may be joy even though as a vegan, I may not find substantial meals, and I do love to eat.

They say dopamine kicks in when we learn new things, and traveling is a learning opportunity:

Within a month, I'll learn which has annoyed people more--my Spanish and French or my vegan diet.

I'm thinking of preparing a little check list as I go into scavenge for food:

Degree of support offered (from food servers, from companions)
Degree of annoyance show (by food servers, by companions)

I should also have a grid for Degree to which I annoy people with my French/Spanish/vegan diet.

I should mention that I'll feel joy seeing my French friend Annie and my German friend Jutta--if I don't annoy them now that I'm a double-threat:  A vegan who doesn't really speak French very well!

Florence Foster Jenkins Plays West Portal

I had to see this film to try to understand how she failed to hear herself and why no one helped her hear--or got her to stop.  So even though I had more "necessary" things to do (if you ask a sane person like, perhaps, my walking partner-to-be on the Camino), I walked to West Portal and saw it.

I didn't really understand much better, but they definitely portrayed her husband as a man who loved her.  Why?  For her sweetness?  For her illusion?

Do some people feel that they have to help people guard their illusions?

If anyone can manage to believe their dream of themself is coming true, let's help them.  (Notice how I deliberately use themself for the vague anybody, singular.)

Was letting her know the truth about her singing as cruel as shining the lamp on Blanche Dubois?

We know who had more money!

But I didn't get the impression that he loved her only for providing the life he wanted to live, and what kind of life was that anyway--constantly trying to hide the truth that her singing was an abomination from the person singing abominably?.

She didn't support him when he suggested that he perform too.

I missed the servant in  Marguerite.

But there were good points about this.

"People can say that I couldn't sing, but they can't say I didn't sing."

Marguerite and Florence Foster Jenkins: When We Can't Hear Ourselves!

I was really touched by the movie Marguerite, the French version of the Florence Foster Jenkins story that's going by that name in the American movie with Meryll Streep in the role of the woman who really thought she could sing--and everyone kept the truth from her.

I wonder what kept her from hearing herself--what malady or bone structure?

But it's a touching story for other reasons like the very symbolism of it all.  

How often do I get praise for something I'm not doing well?  Not often enough, say I!

I want more praise when I sing off-key, but...

I don't want to be regarded as a freak.

Then there's the kindness (or cruelty) of the people who didn't tell her the truth.  Her husband tried to help her keep her illusions. 

And oh, that servant of hers--played by Denis Mpunga.  How often do servants watch their employers make fools of themselves?  In this case, he was the guardian angel of her illusions!

In the 1960's South, the "colored" people who worked for us must have seen us imagining ourselves superior and learned to keep a straight face through it all.

I just listened to the real Florence Foster Jenkins because I had thought there was some exaggeration.  There wasn't.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V6ubiUIxbWE

Helen Caldicott, Icon at Main San Francisco Public Library

After we had the fourth non-celebration of Javier's 80th birthday on Saturday (this time with Charles and Eileen), I heard Helen Caldicott speak at the public library.  

She's very articulate, and I could have accepted her abrasive, angry tone if she hadn't dropped names.  "I told Carl Sagan, I said, "Carl, do you think..."   Years later I talked to Robert McNamara.  "Robert..."   She let us know that she was at Harvard in a somewhat gratuitous way. 

Helen Caldicott was very famous back in the days when my son was chanting, "Two, four, six, eight.  We don't want to ra-di-ate" from his crib,  and the audience was made up of us old folks, which she noticed.  She asked the young people to stand up, and even though the Koret Auditorium was packed, about three people stood up!  (I thought of standing but didn't.)  Helen Caldicott said most young people were out playing Pokémon.

WALL, the War and Law League, sponsored her, and they also had a really old but full-voiced singer doing "Down by the Riverside," which has far too many verses. 

When someone from WALL said, "We'll have more music later.  Don't worry.  You won't be music-less," Helen Caldicott (or maybe I should say "Helen") intervened and said something like  "No, I'd like to ask for no more music.  Music comforts people, and people need to be upset."

The best part of the two-hour gathering was the handout WALL provided.  It gives the history of wars illegally started by U.S. presidents since 1950, when  Truman waged war on Korea without the authorization of Congress.

Also, I saw people from Diablo Valley Peace Center and thought of Mom--though there was someone there who was so "efficient" that Mom dropped out, preferring a friendlier approach.  I wonder what she would have thought of Helen Caldicott's presentation.

Some people walked out when she said America wasn't great and that "This country is totally out to lunch, every single way."    I liked her speaking against NATO, which she says, accurately, I think,  is America. 

But what's this about having to vote in Australia?  Is that a good idea?  If people don't vote, they pay a fee of $80.

Mikado--Who Did the De-Japanizing--Lamplighters or Gilbert and Sullivan?

Interesting that Michael Bertinetti  (letters to the editor August 13) blames political correctness and the Lamplighters for "de-Japanizing" the Mikado.  Wasn't it Gilbert and Sullivan who did that?

               

Understanding how painful it is to give up our cherished misconceptions and misperceptions,  I've written a few new words in place of Gilbert's "I've Got a Little List" and to the tune critics of change seem  to be growling:

If the stereotypes we've worshiped are the images they've dissed

We really will be pissed.

We really will be  pissed.

If depictions of them groveling prompt Asians' cry, "Desist!"

We really will be pissed.

We really will be pissed. 

If we're told that chopsticks in the hair are not the true Japan.

We will rally round defending myths, each occidental man. 

If de-Japanizing play is seen as Lamplighters PC

When in truth de-Japanizing was by G & S decree.

If they call the good old days we love the days of slavery,

We really will be pissed.  We really will be pissed.

You get the gist.

The point's been missed.

Ask Alan Sherman, who should now get kissed?

Planners Who Give Up Plans for Last Minute Stoppers

Today a friend seemed relieved when we had to cancel plans for the four of us to get together because her godchild had just told her that she needed to see off a friend in San  Francisco later in the afternoon and needed a ride.

This postponement of plans worked out for all of us, but I don't like it when friends drop their own plans to accommodate drop ins or people who don't plan ahead because it encourages not planning ahead, and it may also give the receiver a feeling of entitlement,   It also makes it seem that the planners don't have a life of their own or that their plans don't matter.

Walking the Walk in San Francisco Pre-Camino

When the patrol officer on the north side of Golden Gate Bridge saw us, she asked, "Did you walk across the bridge?  You're wonderful!"

When we told her that we'd started at Castro and Market, she said, "Then you're NUTS!"

We are.  But our walks are brilliant!

We see the city (and bridge) close up and personal!

Friend-Guide for San Francisco Victorians and My Priorities

I'm glad I don't have a feeling of entitlement, but am I too solicitous?  Yesterday a friend was doing a dry-run of his guided tour of San Francisco's Victorians, and he asked me to be at his home in Sea Cliff 45 minutes in advance so he could drive me and another City Guide volunteer to Bush and Octavia.

I didn't allow enough time, especially for the lane close on 19th Avenue, and I couldn't even take the direct route I was familiar with because of a street closure, so I arrived in the vicinity of his home fifteen minutes late.  I parked my car about a foot from the curb and asked passers-by where 30th Avenue was.  Then I rushed to his home and gave him a call and apology  from my iPhone.

He seemed totally unconcerned about my tardiness and said he and his mentor would drive around to pick me up.

I turned out to have enough time to re-park my car and be sure that it was locked, but I didn't know that, and when they arrived, I didn't mention to them my concern about where and how I'd left my car.

I  decided to let go of my concern and enjoy the tour, which I did.  I also enjoyed the dinner he treated us to afterwards, and when I got back to my car five hours later, it hadn't been rammed or vandalized.  It was even locked.  But I hadn't known that.

Vegan Potluck offered much more than a head of lettuce or side order of beans

Yesterday's vegan potluck offered a lot more than a side order of beans or the head of lettuce I'd fear getting if I showed  a server that picture in the Vegan Passport of something a vegan can eat.

I welcomed people but didn't provide the namecards saying, "Hi!  My name is Vegan Freak."

Here's a collage I just made:

As you see, I started with dessert--trifle, chocolate cake and coconut whipped cream, and vegan ice cream.  We had everything from fresh fruit with Rosemary to paella (remember it's the pan, not the seafood), and moussaka--pasta,  salads, and more!

City of Angels Perfectly Wonderful--Chronicle Reviewer Needs to Rewind and Rewrite!

SF Playhouse's production of "City of Angels" isn't perfect, but it is perfectly wonderful.  We audience members used our standing-in-line time at intermission to rave about it and wonder:    How could this clever musical, performed so well, have gotten such a mediocre review?  Had it changed so much since Lily Janiak saw it?

The musical has two stories presented simultaneously--a writer doing a screenplay of his book, a detective story,  and the movie resulting from his writing and rewriting.  Characters in the movie version sometimes rewind, playing scenes with suggested changes.

There's not much I'd change about this production of "City of Angels," but there's a lot I'd change about the review.  I wish that Lily Janiak could rewind and see the production  that the rest of us saw.

Donald Trump as The Deep State and Dark Money Coming to the Surface

When I suggested to friends that Donald Trump was not an aberration but was the "deep state"  and "dark money" coming to the surface, someone said, "Oh, but Tina!  Donald Trump is insane."

Does he think that the deep state, the shadow "government" that really runs our world (the military, corporations, lobbyists) is sane?

A Welcome to This Vegan at Lovejoy's

I called ahead to let Lovejoy's know that there would be one vegan in our party of four, and I was it.

Yesterday the very charming server brought out Muna, who has been the co-owner and manager of Lovejoy's for the past 16 years, and she said, "You're the vegan?  Great!  Wonderful!  We have..."

And then she began to describe the combinations they could make, and it wasn't just a question of leaving out; they were adding in.  "And nuts for protein," she said at one point.

"You know something about this," I said, gratefully.

"Yes," she said because I used to be a vegetarian, and I have a lot of friends who are vegan, and I really respect and support what you're doing."

That was a refreshing change from the head of lettuce that sometimes lands on the vegan's plate.

And weren't they pretty?

Oh, and she said their scones were vegan, too.

The Vegan Passport I'm taking on the Camino

As soon as I heard about the Vegan Passport, I sent away for one and found out that the fifth edition would be coming out in July.

The first edition was published in July 1996, so it'sbeen out there for twenty years, and I just found out about it!

I'm happy to have it, but I'm skeptical of the likely success of using it as directed.

Consider, for example, how busy servers are.  The Vegan Passport begins with a How To Use This Book page in English, French, Portuguese, German, Spanish, and Russian and the directive, "Show your waiter/waitress the relevant page of this book and ask him/her to read it."

Yup!  That's what they want to do--a little reading on their run from table to kitchen.

Also, there's a picture page with a smiley face and a check mark to show what vegans eat.

I can imagine pointing to the head of lettuce (or cauliflower?)  and later receiving a plate with this:

A Loser's Reflection: How Much Is It Worth To Hide the Loss that Comes from Being a Loser

I felt so foolish (almost worthless?) when I lost my tenant's check that I was seriously considering not telling him that I'd lost it and just suffering the loss of more than a thousand dollars.

I'd lost it because I had a losing way of  creating piles of papers and then, preparing for a friend's visit, scooping up the papers and hiding them somewhere so the room (I'm almost always talking about the study) looked neater than it really was.

I'm not alone in this clean-up method, which wasn't totally self-taught.  I come from a family of people who rose above their piles and got on to something more interesting than cleaning up.   My mother cleaned house twice a year--when it was her turn to have the bridge party.

This approach to cleaning was reinforced by friends who told me that they prepared for people dropping in by just going  through the rooms with a big garbage bag and collecting everything.  Then they'd try to remember not to throw out the garbage bag.

So...I was messy and I was careless, and the rent check got scooped up with a pile of papers, and when I later sifted  through the pile, I couldn't find the check. 

For at least a day I felt so foolish (or, once again, is the word worthless?) that I was going to let it go.

Then I came to my senses, sent my tenant a message about the loss, and gave him  $25 to stop payment on the check, which he did, writing me a new one.

The new check is in my wallet, where I put it as soon as I got it instead of letting it mingle with all the other papers in piles. 

Lost and found, my money and my feeling of self-worth--in spite of being a loser

Coming Out of the Cupboard and Saying You're Vegan

Gays come out of the closet, but maybe vegans come out of the cupboard, which is what I'll be doing when I meet two friends I adore in Spain next month.  Rosa will be returning to work in Barcelona, but Annie and I will be retiring (we are retirees) to France for about a week.

They have an idea of  the extent (and limits) of my French and Spanish, but they don't yet know that I  now speak  another language:  Veganese, and I'll be speaking it at every food stop!

I fear that I am already annoying enough in French and Spanish, but now...how will my third language affect our time together?

They have known for years that I am a vegetarian, but that permitted cheese, the great staple of  France and to a degree of Spain. (A zarzuela might be called The Man of Manchego.)  Now I'm not eating any animal products--no eggs, milk, butter.

Of course I could make exceptions, but I really don't believe in eating animal products--there's just too much suffering in factory farms, and livestock isn't sustainable that way or even in the less common space, and I'm really interested in finding out how accommodating the eating places are in Spain and France,.  That's my true pilgrimage when it comes to following a path towards an ideal.  (My less lofty pilgrimage is to see these friends who mean so much to me!)

I've started a book called Vegan Freak, which has a name card on the cover, "HELLO, my name is
VEGAN FREAK."

My friends Annie and Rosa know that vegans are not, as the authors fear some people think, an exotic tribe recently discovered deep in the Amazonian jungle.  "We have the number zero," the authors insist.  "We understand how fire works."


Annie and Rosa  agree that everyone should eat less meat, but they probably regard refusing all animal products as a form of extremism, and they're going to find out that I have been recently radicalized.

A Book Launch for a Very Talented Friend

I've just spent an hour writing to people I know who are good writers and begging them to attend a book launch for a very talented friend whose book of poems is coming out in October.

http://davidrobertbooks.com/hathwell

Because he's a very good writer, I'm worried!  Most people prefer easily accessible poetry like light verse--something not too subtle with verses that rhyme.