Aprilbaby's California Life

Still believe "climate change" is about the environment? Snap out of it!

All this "climate change" talk is not about "Saving the planet". Please read this. And why is Obama pushing cap and trade? A few answers here and here. Do we really want to be regulated by corporations, bankers and more government? Cap and trade ain't working so well in Europe, apparently. And Australia's planning on implementing carbon policing...WTF?! And even in the shadow of the climate science scandal, Gordon Brown is calling for a new group to police global environmental issues. Oh, and have you thought that the Green movement sounds awfully like a religion? Think that's by accident? Nope. Read this and this (Click "objectives" & see participant list. There's Al Gore. What a surprise!) to see how environment is being used a religion to manipulate people in order to "transform" the world. How about just giving people the facts?

Climate change: It's a great tool to manipulate people.

Excerpts from this link:

Simon Linnett, Executive Vice-Chairman of Rothschild, has called for a new international body, the World Environment Agency, to regulate carbon trading.

In a recently published paper, Trading Emissions, for the Social Market Foundation, Mr Linnett argues that the International problem of climate change demands an international solution.

Unless governments cede some of their sovereignty to a new world body, he says, a global carbon trading scheme cannot be enforced and regulated.

And from this link:

That, perhaps, it might be regarded to as having wider benefits than
merely “saving the planet” – perhaps it might be the basis for a new
world order, one that is not based on trade and/or conflict resolution
– and, even
• Perhaps one can see a way to achieve this goal, through leadership,
vision and some marginal and manageable renunciation of national
sovereignty, how the world might just get there.

While Al Gore moans and groans in his Tennessee drawl about how much he cares for the environment, his carbon swap scheme is killing old growth forests. Please read Bernd Heinrich's op-ed (excerpt below):

More than anything, carbon offsets will allow rich countries to burn ever more fossil fuels under the “clean development mechanism” of the Kyoto Protocol, the system that sets the values, in terms of tons of carbon equivalent, of emission-reduction efforts.

In fact, most of the problems with the system can be traced back to the Kyoto Protocol, which was adopted in 1997. After much political wrangling, the Kyoto delegates decided that there would be no carbon-reduction credits for saving existing forests. Since planting new trees does get one credits, Kyoto actually created a rationale for clear-cutting old growth.

This is horrifying. The world’s forests are a key to our survival, and that of millions of other species.

"Climate Change" hysteria isn't about saving the planet; that's just the cloak of goodness the greedy and powerful hide behind. They get the extra bonus of manipulating people under the guise of Green goodness; if you question their good environmental cause you must be a moron or a flat-earther. It's really a genius scam.

If the fear profiteers truly care about the environment they wouldn't be jetting all over the world in private planes, and they definitely wouldn't be promoting Cap and Trade. While they're focusing on CO2, the Amazon rain forest is disappearing. It's a farce! This scheme is just as nonsensical as mortgage derivatives which helped bring down our economy, but even worse - considering the damage to the planet that would happen when we ignore real environmental and humanitarian issues.

It's a good thing to question these things. When you're told "The debate is closed!" and "The science is solid," look closer.

The Wende Museum: Preserving Cold War Artifacts, Art and History

The Wende Museum: 5741 Buckingham Parkway, Suite E; Culver City, CA 90230, PH# 310-216-1600

Founder Justinian Jampol has put together a fascinating and informative collection of Cold War artifacts - even an entire room of KGB surveillance equipment - and artwork, conveying the not so long ago experienced stories of lives lived under communism during the Cold War. It's a one-of-a-kind museum, and Los Angeles is fortunate to have it.

Last night I attended an event at the Museum. It was a surreal experience to stand beneath pieces of barbed wire and the Berlin Wall in an exhibit, considering the last time I was that close to the wire and wall, in July of 1969, was when it imprisoned people in East Berlin.

As a kid visiting East Berlin, crossing through Checkpoint Charlie from West Berlin, I was like Dorothy of Oz in reverse, leaving a Technicolor world for one in black and white (gray and grayer). I knew nothing about communism; I only knew that West Berlin seemed full of color and life, while East Berlin was drab, dreary and felt hopeless.

My mom recently reminded me that while there were fashionable boutiques in West Berlin, we entered something altogether different in East Berlin: A store that was nothing more than a decrepit, warped floor building - looking like it hadn't been updated in a 100 years, selling only bolts of fabric in one color - a drab gray. No clothes. The material was all that was available to the East Berliners to sew their own.

You think there MIGHT be a problem with your political system when you need to imprison people, shoot them if they try to escape and have 1 out of 3 citizens as informants?

From this link on the Berlin wall:
"Despite the various security measures enforced, escape attempts were commonplace, especially in the years immediately following the erection of the wall, when there was still a fighting chance of making it across alive. Climbing was the obvious way to go and some 5,000 were said to have reached the other side. However in its thirty year history 100 people were shot dead, most famously the eighteen year old Peter Fetcher, who, after he was hit in the hip, was left to bleed to death in no-man’s land as the world’s media watched on."

(Photo: Me on left, my sister on right - 1969 in Bulgaria.)

As inquisitive kids will, my sister and I asked questions while traveling. In Bulgaria, after seeing many posters and statues of one man we asked: "Who IS that man?" Dad called him "The world's greatest man." He was Bulgaria's communist leader.

I'm thinking the "world's greatest man" might not need to torture people in gulags.

Here are some stories from Bulgarian gulag victims my father was not aware of. An excerpt, here: 

"Marin Georgiev's nightmare began in April 1961. A shepherd from Straldzha, he was peacefully minding his sheep when two State Security plainclothes agents arrested him. Georgiev was sent to a labour camp in Lovech without trial. His crime? He had refused “voluntarily” to give his land and livestock to the collective farms, the only type of holding permitted in Communist Bulgaria.

Georgiev endured a year of hell in Lovech, comparable to the treatment suffered by Nazi concentration camp prisoners."

 

The Self-Reliant vs. The Happily Imprisoned

A social media call out: Join me! Find a deluded celebrity who helped promote Obama into office, show them people who are silenced by government oppression.

Though we Americans have been divided by race, gender and income - there are only two kinds of Americans: The self-reliant and those who want to be imprisoned. While some people want to live their lives as they dream, many will give up freedom for some welfare (food stamps, aka, EBT cards and government paid birth control). But watch this video, below. These Americans are not protesting for free stuff. They want freedom! Freedom to not have their homes taken by government. Freedom to raise their kids. Listen to them:

 

But nobody is listening or speaking up for these people who aren't asking for government hand-outs - just to be left alone.

Celebrities who pretend like they care for the "underdogs" in this country stood up for Obama, who knows he can buy votes by touting more free stuff... which always means less freedom. We could all get free food, housing and ability to not have to work, simple: go to prison.

Cuba has government paid books, but Castro tells Cubans what they can read and what music to listen to. Rebel against Castro's government, and you will go to prison.

The United States was fought for and started by rebels who wanted to live free of British oppression, they didn't fight off the Brits to keep people barely surviving on food stamps, birth control pills and without a voice.

My goal is to make it my daily practice of notifying and then constantly reminding the wealthy and deluded celebrities who helped promote Obama, an oppressive/corportate-crony phoney, into office. With their massive platforms to reach millions, I want celebrities to help give voices to all the people government oppression keeps silent and holds down.

This summer, I wrote to musician Tom Morello, formerly of "Rage Against the Machine" (Rage against the machine? My ass! Idolizing the machine, is what he does!) asking how he can stand before Mao and Lenin (together they killed 100s of millions with their communist genocide, gulags and firing squads) and then help promote Obama as president. When I finally got through to him, I didn't get an answer.

Morello stands up for government that takes freedom from people, so I will see if he can make amends by giving citizens, like the ones in the above video, a voice.

Because we live in a society where more people know about Snooki and Honey Boo Boo, than they do why America was started in the beginning, I have to stop fighting the system - growing government propped up by pop-culturally drunk populace - and get it to help people and use it to our advantage. There's a reason Obama stopped speaking to the White House press corp, only to sit down with late-night talk show hosts and radio DJs like Pimp with a Limp.

I have to do something, I can not sit by and allow government to grow and individuality to be silenced and told how to live.

 

 

 

 

Join me! Find a deluded celebrity who helped promote Obama into office, show them people who are silenced (like the ones above) or these people (see video below):

I was born a bright Technicolor magenta pixel woven into a psychedelic tapestry: America post civil rights, verging on the counter-revolution. The movie "Easy Rider," rebels riding motorcycles on America's roads, surrounded by majestic panoramas, represented a freedom of spirit and life. The hippies I knew spoke of freedom, live and let live; pounded in my head "Question the Man!"

Today, the country I was born into may well be facing a brown-out, turning into the drab gray, like I had seen when visiting East Berlin, the beige-gray faces, like the bombed out buildings, all without hope or destiny. When I was born, the dream for space travel was all about going up to the heavens, now we watch the Space Shuttles getting dragged into museums. I will not sit silently while those pixels of Technicolor are being turned off, one by one...

I'd rather be crazy than apathetic.


East Berlin, 1969.

I'd rather look crazy than be apathetic.

Nah, Reall-ay. We totally talk like this in LA

So, like, my old man and I went to this Oaxacan mole place - which we found after taking the 118 to the 5 - in Sun Valley. Then we struck up a convo ('Cuz saying conversation is just way too exhausting after all that driving we did) with this dude, who turned out to be a judge... Nah, reall-ay. He didn't wear a robe or look really mean, or anything. So I said, Hey judge-dude (okay, not exactly that way), so how'd ya find this place?

No shit, this is what he said: "Since I work at the court house in Pasadena, I take the 210 to the 134 to the 5 and get off on Sunland." Or something like that.

Nah, reall-ay. That's, like, totally true.

I've Survived Retail Hell!

In May, I took a seasonal sales job at a luxury department store's men's furnishings section. My plan was to get dressed and out of the house, have fun meeting people, while also running my family audio businesses, Boutique Audio & Design and Tree Audio . Bad plan! It was hell.

Retail crap I won't miss -

• Talking about Gucci (or, as my daughter refers to the hideous G labeled clothing, Douchey). Yes, there are people who find these obnoxiously monogrammed clothing and accessories worth putting on their credit cards. Even if they live in apartments in Pacoima, plan on wearing the crap for a few nights, only to return it all on Monday. At least they felt "worthy" for a few days. And isn't that what's important?

 

• The cheap bastards who come to the men's fragrance counter, every other day (I swear!) to fill up sample bottles of cologne (or as we have to refer to it: men's fragrance). Is that bottle of Cartier's Essence de Bois too expensive for you? No problem, just drag your cheap ass over to the counter and fill up on samples as often as possible. Oh, Mr. I-Reek-of-Sample-Bottles-of-Aramis, do you REALLY wonder why I'm ignoring you? Here's why: It's your putrid cloud of '70s stank and your inability to cough up a few coins for it!

 

• Tantrum-throwing children, like the three-year-old who beat on my butt with a red helium-filled balloon as I filled his cheap-assed daddy's sample bottle of Bleu de Chanel.

 

• And the intense co-worker (hands shaking, far off stare) who, proudly in charge of men's underthings section, would growl, "Keep your hands off my underwear," with not one ounce of recognition of what he just said. So of course I replied, "Don't worry, I'll keep my hands off your underwear," laughing. He sneered.

• I absolutely won't miss that customer who explained to me why he buys only white boxers, and no other color. "So I can tell when they're dirty." Noooooooo!!! (In my head I'm screaming like Sam Kinison.)

• I won't miss the men (For lack of a better word; they have facial whiskers and Adam's apples, so I don't know what else to call them) who will throw mini hissy fits (tisking, eye-rolling, shaking heads, knees buckling, shoulders slumping and major whining) if you put their Eau de Imbecile in a "normal" paper bag and not a pretty shiny silver one with handles.

Wow... didn't pioneer men hunt moose & throw 'em over their backs to feed and clothe their families; built log homes by chopping wood... wrestled bears and stuff, only a little more than a century ago?

 

• And, of course, I won't miss the pervs who said things like "You're built for comfort," "Married? Well, does that mean you can't go out for dinner with me?" or (the most memorable line of all!), "About my penis, it's large. Very large."

Rant written after my last day:

When I got the idea to get a little part time job where I could get dressed up (since I wear jeans as I solder audio equipment in my family home business) to meet people (other than store clerks who ring up my groceries), I didn't realize that Nordstrom had a different idea of "part time."

Their idea of PT hours are: "You won't see daylight again, forget having a free weekend or listening to the birds sing - but, hey, we'll give you a day to recuperate from working til 11pm then arriving at 9am the next day. You'll never sit down. You'll go to war with co-workers you won't really get to know but who will smile to your face and gossip behind your back. You won't have control of your eating schedule (You'll eat 'lunch' at 5pm and dinner at 11pm and like it, damn it!). You won't be able to receive phone calls, will wonder what is going on in the outside world, will make boxes and wrap presents in front of bitchy shrews who will say 'You call that wrapping? Why, in Iran we consider wrapping an art form' (as you think - Really? In Iran they also stone women to death and hang men for being gay. But there they know how to wrap? Whoop-dee-freaking-do!). You will lamely refer to drooling idiots with their pants hanging down below their boxers, wearing T-shirts that say 'Clothes, Money and Hoes' while asking the price of the Gucci belts, as gentlemen... Management will respond to your wondering why all they told you about your commission percentage was a lie - or 'miscommunication' - (and that when customers return items -as they often do - it comes out of your paycheck) with 'You don't fit in" to keep you in line. You will have customers so cruel they will do everything they can to humiliate you in front of others until you cry wondering how humans can be so soulless. But you will be reminded this bitter bitch spends the big bucks here so, basically, 'buck up and sell, sell, sell...' You will work until you can barely open your eyes, your bones ache, your muscles feel numb, and your brain is frazzled. Then on your last night we'll ask you for your key to the watches and wallets back, suspend your employee number, hand you a pay out of cash (so pathetic that you'll want to curl up into a ball and cry) and you will slunk out of the store - not through the employee door, but out the customer door... wanting to take a very hot shower."

See, we just had different ideas about part time.

Only today, after coming out of my retail fog, did I figure out they let me work my last two weeks without informing me I wouldn't get a cut of my commission (and it was a really good sale week for me, my Now-That-I-Don't-Give-a-Hot-Damn-I'm-raking-In-The-Big(all things being relative)-Bucks-in-Commission week).

Accepting that pathetic clump of cash, and skulking out into the night, I felt so nasty I would feel more respected if I were forced by gunpoint to perform fellatio on a traveling troupe of one-eyed, toothless acrobats suffering from leprosy and covered in mud. No offense to the one-eyed, toothless or those suffering from leprosy, mud fetishists, or traveling acrobats... but I think you get my point.

 

I'm Performing my Christmas Story: "Suicidal Santa"

I'll be performing my story, along with other storytellers (a great cast of actors with compelling stories), on stage for the next two Thursdays in December.

Come and see me (Michele Miles Gardiner) perform my true Christmas tale, "Suicidal Santa." An excerpt from my book in progress, "Craving Normal."

*Not recommended for small children. My story's a little naughty. I hope Santa won't be watching!

******************************************

Santa Monica Little Theatre
12420 Santa Monica Blvd Los Angeles, CA 90025
310-622-4482

Purchase tickets online here: http://www.eventbrite.com/event/2604973546

Online sales end one hour before performance. I believe tickets cost more at the door.

Performance times:

December 22, 2011, 8-9 PM (Thursday)

Info about the theater: http://www.theblackboxtheater.org/

*Parking is available behind the theater by entering on Centinela. Street parking also available.

Time to Untangle the Christmas Lights & Curse, Again!!!

Here I go, again!! It seems like I just took down the Christmas lights. Now I'm about to get out the ladder, hang the outdoor lights, curse, fall down, get tangled, yell at my family... and then beam with pride at what an amazing job I did at making our house look sparkly and festive.

Now, a moment from my sponsor (Michele from Christmas Past) to bore my friends and family, a piece I wrote in '07 that still rings true for me: "Holiday Letters, Cheeseballs and Uvulas, Oh My!" 

 

Happy Holidays! Shopping Local, Helping Small Businesses Thrive.

 

This Christmas, I'm shopping local. Too many of my favorite mom and pop shops have closed in recent years. So I'm doing what I can to help out some of my favorite family-owned small businesses, crafts people and artisans.

Here's my list of Los Angeles and San Fernando Valley area businesses I highly recommend. Please feel free to add your own favorites to the comment section. Thanks!

Big Kid Collectables - 14109 Burbanks Blvd., Sherman Oaks, CA 9140, 818-785-9208: Retro toys, games and more!

Handmade Galleries LA - 14556 Ventura Blvd., Sherman Oaks, CA 91403, 818-382-3444: Eclectic treasures from over 100 artists and crafts people.

Iguana Vintage Clothing - 14422 Ventura Blvd, Sherman Oaks, CA 91423 818-907-6716: Great collection of vintage clothing and accessories! All December, everything, except accessories, is 50% off.

Artisanal LA Holiday Pop-Up Shop - Armory Center for the Arts at 145 N Raymond Ave
Pasadena, CA 91103, 626-792-5101. Over 50 of LA's best local food artisans.

Sherman Oaks Antique Mall - 14034 Ventura Blvd Sherman Oaks, CA 91423, 818-906-0338: Have a friend who'd love a Beatles' lunch box or mid-century vase? You'll likely find them here!

Galco's Old World Market's Soda Pop Stop - 5702 York Blvd, Los Angeles (Highland Park), CA 90042, 323-255-7115: Classic and eclectic soda heaven!! Galco's has a great collection of retro candies, too. Gift idea - make a basket of hard to find sodas and classic candy.

Cavaretta's Deli and Store -  22045 Sherman Way, Canoga Park, CA 91304, 818-340-6626: Family run deli for over 50 years! I love this place. Gift ideas - a food basket of Italian cheeses, sauces, olives, salamis, wines and more. Or just buy a pasta maker. (Photo below: Interior Cavaretta's)

Franklin's Hardware - 21936 Ventura Blvd., Woodland Hills, CA 91364, 818-347-6800: Family owned business since 1952. Have a handy friend? Franklin's will not only offer you great service, but'll be sure to have something from gardening, to grilling to automotive tools.

Artists, Marvin Kanarek and Mike "Tempo" Temple - Contact Marvin Kanarek here and Mike "Tempo" Temple here. What better gift to give an art-lover than an original artwork right from the artist?

Vidiots - 302 Pico Blvd., Santa Monica, CA 90405, 310-392-8508: Patty Polinger and Cathy Tauber, indie movie lovers, have owned and run this store since 1985. Need a gift for a movie lover? Vidiots has a great collection of rare films; foreign and independent films are their specialty. I wrote about the store, here.

Junk for Joy - 3314 W. Magnolia Blvd., Burbank, CA 91505, 818-569-4903: For your vintage clothing-loving friends with "good and bad taste."

Follow Your Heart - 21825 Sherman Way, Canoga Park, CA 91303, 818-348-3240: Started by four friends in 1976, this is just the place to buy a gift for health food and/or vegan friends. They also have a seciton of whimsical and unique gifts. Gift ideas - gift certificate to the restaurant (I love their nut burgers!) or a basket of delicious and healthy foods or organic lotions and cosmetics.

Los Angeles Conservancy - Would like to buy a gift for someone who appreciates history and/or architecure? Buy them one of Los Angeles Conservancy's incredibly informative and enjoyable walking tours. You can purchase tickets right online. Or how about buying them a membership to the conservancy? You'd give a great gift and help preserve the best of LA.

Polka Polish Restaurant - 4112 Verdugo Rd, Los Angeles, CA 90065, 323-255-7887: Owned and run by Polish immigrant husband and wife. Need to find a gift for someone who loves homemade Polish food - or just good homestyle cooking - but they have no idea where to find it in LA? Take them here!

Silverlake Conservatory of Music - 3920 Sunset Blvd., Silverlake, CA 90029, 323-665-3176: Founded by Flea of the Red Hot Chili Peppers - this is not only a wonderful music school, but provides music lessons for under priviledged kids. Tired of buying your child video games? Why not give a life long gift? Music lessons! And you'll be helping a great cause.

Luigi Dellaripa Custom Tailor - 14514 Sylvan St, Van Nuys, CA 91411, 818-786-8432: In business for over 50 years! Stumped by what to buy a well-dressed friend who enjoys fine tailoring, how about a gift certificate to Luigi's Tailoring? (Photo: Luigi)

Dragonfly Stained Glass - 7134 Owensmouth Ave, Canoga Park, CA 91303, 818-340-0245: Larry Joers has run Dragonfly since 1976. How about creating a one of a kind stained-glass gift for that hard-to-buy-for friend or loved-one?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Red Barn Feed and Saddlery - 18601 Oxnard Street, Tarzana 91356, 818-345-2510: Family run for over 50 years! Need a great gift for a four-legged or feathered friend, come to Red Barn.

ITS Net Services - Need a gift for someone who needs a new website? Contact my stepson Adam at his website.

Apex Electronics -8909 San Fernando Rd, Sun Valley, CA 91352, 818-767-7202: So you have an electronic geek to buy for and you're puzzled what to get them? Well, even movie studios raid Apex's wacky rows of robots, rockets, wires and knobs to find cool stuff - I'm sure you can find something unique here.

Other ideas - Take a music-loving friend out to hear live music. And if that friend loves to get funky on the dance floor, try to find King Cotton's "Cold as Ice" playing in LA. If your friend doesn't move to King and Cold as Ice, I suggest getting a new friend (kidding... but only slightly.)

Visit LA Farmer's Market - weaving through the aroma-filled aisles of restaurants, gourmet shops and produce stands - you're bound to find a wonderful gift here.

Then there are all the great boutiques throughout LA, from great little shops in the Sunset Junction area of Silver Lake, to the eclectic stores all along Main Street in Santa Monica, to the vintage and hobby shops on Magnolia in Burbank, to Canoga Park's Antique Row on Sherman Way, between Topanga and Canoga... So much more fun to explore the  all-the-same mall stores.


Merry Christmas... happy holidays! I'd love to hear about your favorite "mom and pop" shops and artisans.

*Big thanks to Lisa Ann Walter for giving me the idea to make a list of my favorite small businesses and artists, while she discussed shopping local on her radio show.

Here's a slideshow of some of my favorite LA shops, etc., including LA's Farmer's Market and Downtown Central market.

 

 

Rantings of a Grocery Store Zombie

 
Hemingway had the Left Bank of Paris, Pamplona, Spain, Key West and Havana. I have the grocery store!

I just realized I've published a frightening amount of pieces with the grocery store as my background. Just last night, I sent off an op-ed about the shrinking size of grocery store products and rising prices.  It includes this line: "Soon I'll be a fifty-foot giantess crushing cities with my SUV-sized feet." I like to throw a little retro sci-fi movie action in many of my rantings. It's just a thing I seem to do a lot - zombies, giantesses and brain-eating blobs... Must've been from watching the late night horror shows on "Creature Features," as a kid.

Here are my other grocery store pieces:

Valley State of Mind

Supermarket 101

Technology Bubble

I have enough grocery store material, I think I may be working toward a collection. I can call it "Rantings of a Grocery Store Zombie," or "Why I Need to Get a Life." 

 

Cliché L.A.!

Here's my slide show of just a bit of what I love about LA. All the great stuff is tangled, woven, and often hidden amongst and beneath LA's clichés.

Yeah, LA is more than our clichés, but they do exist -

 

Cliché L.A.!

Golden days

Summer haze

Pacific Coast Highway

Awesome waves

Screenplays

Valets

The Palisades

Silver Lake

Fake…

Boobs

Surfer dudes

Film debuts

Malibu

Attitudes

California Dreams

Palm trees

Plastic surgery

Itsy bitsy bikinis

Purple mountains majesty

Paparazzi

Graffiti

TMZ

Venice Beach

Slangy speech

Movie…

Stars

Luxury cars

Sushi bars

Award Shows

Chateau Marmont

Spago

Limos

Studios

Rodeo…

Drive

The 405

Blue skies

Pulled back eyes

Toned thighs

Chili fries

Hollywood sign

Social climb

I, me, mine

Gang Crime

Drive thrus

Swimming pools

Sparkling jewels

Glamour

Clamor

Rush hour

Want more

Power…

Trip

Sunset Strip

Film script

Set Grips

Hollywood gossip

Hoes and pimps

Star-struck

Nip and tuck

Make a buck

Life don’t suck

Taco trucks

Traffic

Psychic

Pornographic

Manic

Panic

Organic…

 Sprouts

In-n-Out

Celebs bailed out

Droughts

Injected pouts

Golden State

Earthquakes

Lose weight

Get sedate

How much you make?

Old age can wait

Cuz…

Life is great…

in L.A.!

Written by Michele Miles Gardiner

 

Trippy Timetravel

Sunset Strip in the Summer of Love

 

 

 

Charles Lange talks about his Belinda boutique, on the Sunset Strip, and their mod fashions in the Summer of Love. What a trip!

 

Laurel Canyon Rock Scene, 1960s

 

Magical Parisian Mystery Tour

Gliding on the Seine, just below the sparkling Eiffel Tower, happily woozy on Champagne and tender, subtly cinnamon-flavored duck, was already more than I imagined. But to finish the night, below deck, sipping Moroccan tea and listening to hypnotic Indian fusion music… just confirmed that the best experiences are often unexpected.

Each day in Paris, I was so intensely focused on soaking in the city and people who once walked the rues and ponts – standing in front of Ernest Hemingway’s first apartment in Paris, sitting at a café in Place de la Contrescarpe where he sat and drank at the long gone Café des Amateurs, walking his usual route to Gertrude Stein’s apartment at 27 Rue de Fleurus, through the Luxembourg gardens, where he was so hungry he plucked rhubarb and the occasional pigeon to eat – that I didn’t think ahead to the evening my mom and Bill had planned for us… something about a dinner cruise, was all I knew.

It would be our last real night in Paris, the dinner cruise.  While I say I had no expectations, I think I expected one of those white, modern boats I’d seen along the Seine – not much different than one I got too drunk and sick on a San Francisco booze cruise back in the ’80s. Touristy, but fine for sipping a cocktail and watching the view.

After getting off the Metro at the Louvre-Rivoli stop, we (my family and I) walked on a bridge, headed toward our dinner cruise boat on the Seine. When I spotted the boat we'd be boarding for dinner: Le Calife, I was happily surprised.  Warm wooded, lanterns hanging on the outside, red-clothed tables… like something from another era.

We ordered dinner and drinks, as the sun went from late-afternoon golden, to pink and purple, then black. The historic architecture slid by, then glowed in warm light, as Le Calife glided down the Seine.

We finished our dinner - the best meal I had in Paris: tender duck on mashed potatoes glazed with a sweet and savory cinnamon-scented sauce.  A waitress brought desserts to my sister Denise and her husband Mick, topped with sparklers, as the entire boat wished them happy birthdays (both born this month, August).  What a birthday celebration! It couldn't be better. I thought.

Then, the golden-lit Eiffel Tower grew as we neared it, and the iconic structure began to sparkle, as it does every hour in the evening.  We glided nearer and nearer. The boat reached just below the tower’s legs. As if staged, the moon peeked from the center of the Eiffel Tower. Incredible.

Afterward, mom’s friend, the woman in charge of the dinner cruise recipes and ex-wife of the captain, introduced us to the Captain and Le Calife owner: Nicolas Gailledrat.  My husband Ian, a musician/recording console designer, was surprised to see Nicolas has a recording studio on the boat (below deck).  Nicolas began to tell Ian how he once ran a jazz club on Le Calife, and recorded many artists; one of the musicians was John McLaughlin and his Indian-American fusion band Shakti.

Next thing I know, we’re seated below deck on Le Calife, sipping Moroccan spearmint tea, watching and listening to a video of Shakti's exotic music - rhythmic, hypnotic, sitar-style guitar and thumping tablas.  So mesmerized, I said “That tabla player ( Zakir Hussain) is like the Jimmy Page of Tabla.”

No, it was not what I expected when mom said, “We’re going on a dinner cruise.” Screw expectations. Some experiences are heightened when they're unexpected. For me, life needs more mystery.

 

Two Weeks in Paris: `A la Bastille!

(Our apartment, the two top right windows below text on the photo)

Thanks to mom and Bill for an amazing two weeks in Paris, and for putting us in the most wonderful apartment in the 12^th arrondissement (near the Bastille). Below, the beginning of our Paris experience and details about the apartment.

Rental details about the apartment, here.

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“`A la Bastille, s’il vous plait,” is what the slip of paper my mom typed out had said, so that I could hand it to a taxi driver once my husband Ian and I arrived at Charles De Gaulle Airport. Before my brain became numb by jet lag, I planned on saying the french phrase myself. Instead, I handed the paper to a taxi driver and mumbled. 

The driver sped off, sliding from lane to lane and riding the bumpers of tiny European cars along the highway, taking us to our destination: Café Français in Paris. There, my mom, Bill (mom’s husband & my father part deux, aka stepfather), my sister Denise, her husband Mick and our daughter Lauren would be waiting.  The café is just steps away from where Mom and Bill’s beautiful boat is docked in the Bastilles’ Port de l’Arsenal.

Paris! We arrived. 

As the taxi swerved and darted through the narrow streets, I tried to take it all in – a blur of boulangeries, outdoor cafes, and a stunning amount of pharmacies… My brain, jostled from the taxi’s driving and slowed by jet lag, took it all in. Suddenly, we lurched to a stop.

Doors flung open. The smell! Paris – diesel, warm bread, coffee, and cigarette smoke tangled with that familiar mist of expensive perfume. Standing there at the curb, Mom, Bill, and my daughter (who arrived a week before us), walked quickly toward us, and behind her, my sister and Mick – smiling, arms open.

In minutes our group walked down the stairs to their boat. Mom fed us brie, baguettes and other Parisian goodies out on their boat’s deck. I ate and tried to digest that we were really there, as the sun bounced off the water surrounding us.  There we sat with my sister and her husband, whom I hadn’t seen in years… in Paris. I tried to remember every moment, knowing these two weeks would slide by too quickly. (Photo: Mom's boat deck in the evening)

Then, mom and Bill walked our group over to the apartment, just down the street on Boulevard de la Bastille. All I knew is that Ian and I would share it with Denise and Mick.  Would each couple have our own rooms? I hoped. Would it be dark? I hoped not. Would it be small and cramped? I didn’t know. None of us knew what to expect.  I was just happy to be in Paris with my family.

After some jet lagged hyperventilating, on my part, due to the claustrophobic rectangular box, otherwise known as a Paris elevator, we’d need to squeeze (two by two) into to arrive at our sixth floor, we walked into the apartment my mother and Bill had chosen and rented for us.

Sun poured across the warm-hued hardwood floors, and two living room windows, draped as if from a Madeline storybook in pink and brown, revealed a stunning view: the Eiffel tower and Notredame straight ahead, out in the distance, with the Seine to the left and the sparking canal of the Port de l’Arsenal, dotted with boats, just below. Each one of us ran to the windows and gasped. 

      


As my sister would later say, we were like those twenty-somethings on MTV’s “Real World” who scurry around their glamorous new pad in awe.  We walked around the apartment, picking out our bedrooms, giddy that there were not only two bathrooms, but a third just outside the front door. The main bathroom had sun pouring through a skylight.  Our bedrooms had views of beautiful buildings and a clock tower.

Views!!

(View of Eiffel tower from the living room window and, to the right, the Bastille and Port de l'Arsenal.)

Below our bedroom window, just to the left, is the outdoor plaza of an art gallery, La Maison Rouge. Mom told Ian and me weeks before that the gallery had an exhibit of artists from Winnipeg, Canada, called “My Winnipeg.” Ian’s from Winnipeg. We would later go there and see a photo of our friend, singer Burton Cummings of The Guess Who from Winnipeg, on the gallery's wall. I saw Burton's smiling face staring at me, did a double-take, and elbowed Ian. He gasped, "What?! You mean we've been sleeping, in Paris, right above Burton's face?" Weird.

Wow… If our apartment seemed perfect then, the following days would reveal, even more, that Mom and Bill couldn’t have found a better place. The location and view (At night, on the hour, the Eiffel Tower sparkles) could not have been better.

The apartment is walking distance from literary haunts of Gertrude Stein, James Joyce and Ernest Hemingway, to name just a few late writers who lived, wrote and played along with artists like Picasso on the Left Bank. Also within walking distance: Ile Saint-Louis, Notre Dame, ancient Roman road Rue Mouffetard (now alive with cafes and shops) and Place de la Contrescarpe (in Hemingway’s old Neighborhood); medieval Roman ruins of the Cluny and Arenes de Lutece; lush and colorful Jardin des Plantes; the plethora of cafes in the less touristy Marais; clubs and cafés on Rue de la Roquette and Rue de Lappe in the Bastille; the haunting and ancient cemetery Pere la Chaise; outdoor markets (Bastille and Aligre), and the summer Plages along the Seine (Yes, a beach on the Seine: sand castles, boule, lawn chairs, music, a swimming pool, food and drinks).

When we wanted to explore beyond this incredible area, we simply hopped on the Metro (Bastille Metro line 1, not many blocks away to our right, and Quai de la Rapée Metro line 5, just across from the apartment’s entrance).

Now that I'm home, there's so much I miss. I miss walking across the bridge to visit my mom and Bill on their beautiful boat; buying quiche Lorraine at the boulangerie around the corner; watching children run through the flowers and sprinklers at the Jardin des Plantes; ogling a stunning red gown in a boutique window in the Montparnasse, and then, looking over my shoulder to catch a nun stop to see what I was gasping at, only to watch a wide smile light her face in pleasure at the dress' beauty.

I miss walking out the apartment door, never knowing what we would discover: the home where French philosopher René Descartes died, near Place de la Contrescarpe; the building where the principles of gas and lighting were discovered (theorized, yes - though never actually put into reality); Gertrude Stein's former apartment where Hemingway and Picasso liked to visit; rich hot chocolate, quiche with caraway seeds, grilled toast with leeks and bubbling cantral cheese... and discovering that saying "bonjour" instead of thank you or goodbye makes even the most straight-faced Parisian laugh - with pity? Maybe. Probably...

But those two weeks in Paris went by in a blur, just as I knew they would.

*Next, I’ll write about all that we discovered and experiences that can not be missed, i.e. one of the most memorable dinners of my life; literary walks, favorite museums, neighborhoods I enjoyed most and why.

Until then, here are two slide shows I created from our Paris trip: Two Weeks in Paris & Two Weeks in Paris, Part Deux

Au Revoir!

Summer Samba - My Slideshow of Summers Past

In celebration of summer, here's my slideshow of summers long ago - those memories that, for me, are bathed in sunlight, the aroma of coppertone and summer songs.

I suggest watching my slideshow with Astrud Gilberto singing a summer samba, "So Nice."

San Francisco's Market Street, 1906: Long Strides, Fearless and Full of Pride

Back in 1906, my family - my great-great-grandparents, the Nortons; My Great-great-grandmother, Bridget Collins, all her children and her brothers, The Nolans - already lived in San Francisco for a decade or two. From genealogy research and photos, I know most worked hard, but always presented themselves with heads held high and neatly attired.

 

Nell Collins, my great-aunt, cleaned houses for a living. According to family stories, she had pride, strength, a sense of humor and dignity.

As a fifth generation San Franciscan, I believe the people of the city back then were grittier, more solid, had pride. From research I know my great-great-grandpa Norton worked as a livery driver and more laborious jobs through out his old age... he didn't ask for help from others, just worked as hard as he had to to feed, house and clothe his family.

Thomas Norton and Maggie Driscoll Norton, early 1900s

In this video, these people are fearless, walking in front of streetcars with long, purposeful strides. Their eyes and ears aware - not lawsuits, regulations and mandates - to keep them safe. These are people who came from harder lives in other countries, as all my ancestors had. They didn't assume life would be easy or have the luxury to take much for granted. They walk as though they truly know freedom.

Would these rugged, prideful, long-striding people recognize the city of San Francisco today?