Gramping, Comparing Earthquakes, And Lunching With An Old Friend

Yesterday I took my grandson to the California Academy of Science.

I wanted to do a redo of their earthquake reenactment room.  I'd been there with him before.  I didn't

Earthquake Simulation Room Cal Academy

remember it being very scary at all.  Certainly not like November 30 quake in Anchorage a couple of months ago which shook us back and forth for 30 minutes.

So I wanted to go back and compare it to our recent quake.  Well, it did shake about as much as the quake we were in.  But it doesn't give you a sense of a real earthquake.  It's a small room like in a house, but there are hand rails to hold onto all around.  You know what's going to happen.  There are other people in the room with you.  It shook back and forth mimicking the 1989 quake, and then the 1906 quake.

But this was more like the entertainment of an amusement park ride.  You go there to experience it.  It is different when it arrives announced in your own house or office or elsewhere in your environment and starts up and you have no idea how much bigger it's going to get or how long it's going to last and whether your house is going to hold together.

So, yes, physically, you get a sense of an earthquake in this room.  But psychically, not at all.    We went on to watch the Foucault Pendulum knock over a couple of pegs and then to the rain forest.






There's the several story netted rainforest with lots of tropical butterflies and there are smaller exhibits along the path that winds up to the top.   Like the one that held this bright green lizard.






Then at the top, you take an elevator down and you end up below the water at the bottom of the rainforest.




It was great to be on an adventure with my grandson, just the two of us.  And there were plenty of other grandparent/grand child visitors there too.

Today, after dropping him off at his pre-school we stopped at a great little  hardware store in Japan Town, but they didn't have the Chinese picture hanger I was looking for.  But they have so many interesting things.

A bit later we went for lunch with PK who was in my Peace Corps group.  In fact he was the closest volunteer to my town.  Except that there were no roads between his town and mine.  You had to wander by motorcycle through the rice paddies to connect.


We passed this bear gargoyle on the way to meeting him and his partner.







P was in the hotel business in San Francisco for many years so he took us to a couple places we never would have found.  First, to eat at Belden Place.

From Wikipedia

"Belden Place itself is a one-lane, one block long street running south from Pine Street to Bush Street, parallel to and in between Montgomery and Kearny streets, immediately south of the Bank of America tower. It is roughly between Chinatown and the Financial District.
In 1990, restaurateurs Olivier Azancot and Eric Klein opened Cafe Bastille, the mainstay that set the modern tone for the area. The French, Italian, and Catalan establishments are popular with locals, tourists, and office workers, and are generally considered on par with the city's best casual full-service European restaurants.[3] Notable restaurants in the alley itself include Sam's Grill, Cafe Bastille, Cafe Tiramisu, Plouf, B44, Belden Taverna, and Brindisi Cucina di Mare. Nearby are Café de la Presse (though modest and unassuming, a favorite hangout of the city's political and social elite) and Le Central. Also nearby are the Alliance Française, the French consulate, and the Notre-Dame-des-Victoires Church (where mass is still celebrated in French) and an affiliated elementary school. In the vicinity are several other restaurants, cafes, hotels and other French-related institutions along Bush Street and Claude Lane, another nearby alley.[2]"

 In summer the canopies are gone, but it was a nice day and we sat under the canopy and had a delicious Italian lunch at Tiramisu.  (After the yellow tarps.)








Then to see the courtyard at the Palace Hotel.

From the Garden Court Restaurant website: 

"When the Palace Hotel opened its doors in 1875, the Garden Court was the carriage entrance to this grand hotel. A parade of famous guests visited San Francisco's Palace and stood in awe of its magnificence.
In 1906, following the earthquake, the Palace closed its doors for the first restoration. Three years later, the carriage entrance was transformed and The Garden Court was unveiled. Since its debut in 1909, The Garden Court has been recognized as one of the world's most beautiful public spaces
With its incredible architecture, dome stained glass ceiling and Austrian crystal chandeliers, The Garden Court became the site for some of the nation's most prestigious events. In 1919, President Woodrow Wilson hosted two luncheons in support of the Versailles Treaty which ended World War I. In 1945, the official banquet honoring the opening session of the United Nations was held in The Garden Court."

P and I first met at Peace Corps training in DeKalb, Illinois in 1966.  We don't see each other often, but it's great when we do.  

Seattle Day With Family and Friends, A little Wyeth Time, A Movie, and More Food

We took the 8:45 am ferry from Bainbridge Island into Seattle Wednesday.  The sun was sneaking past the clouds, it felt much warmer than it's been.  (A sign at one point said 66˚F.)

The day held promise.  My son and family were headed into Seattle to see an old friend and our other granddaughter was with us all too.  We were headed to see other friends.

The sky was mostly cloudy, but another ferry headed back to Bainbridge was sunlit.

We walked from the terminal.  Caught a bus.  Then took the monorail.  M is a big vehicle fan at 3 years old and hadn't been on a monorail.

Then another bus and a walk through the park to the Elliot Bay bookstore where we were meeting.  A lot of political stuff on the new books counter.

Our friends got us at the bookstore, the kids were at a story hour and we said good bye.

First to the Seattle Art Museum to see the Andrew Wyeth exhibit.

At first I was conflicted - I wanted to just talk to our friends, but I also wanted to absorb the Wyeth exhibit.  I must admit, I haven't been that big a fan of Wyeth.  The stuff was nice, but didn't really talk to me.  But I saw a lot of different styles and was much more impressed.  For instance, this early water color lobster is NOT something I would have identified as a Wyeth.

This picture of Siri is more familiar.  I couldn't help thinking about the current debates on sexual assault and also on child porn when I saw the nudes of Siri.  From a 1981 Time magazine article on Wyeth:

". . . teenage Siri Erickson, another Cushing resident, from 1967 to 1972. The paintings of her were also withheld, until she turned 21, and their release in 1975 caused a little of the same stir that the Helgas have. Siri, now 32 and the mother of two girls, recalls no embarrassment or awe about posing nude for Wyeth when she was 13. 'He would get totally involved in his work. It was as if you were a tree,' she says. 'He's a normal, everyday person. He does paint good, but he's just Andy.'"

By some standards, a picture of a nude 13 year old would be considered child porn.  By other standards it's great art.  I think we need to be much more discerning than we are at the moment about what we are seeing and how we classify it.  This CBC article talks about the fine line between sexting and child porn.  And this discussion of Wyeth's nudes is on the Catholic online forum Suscipe Domine.


Here are two folks regarding another Wyeth painting.

The exhibit was well laid out - with introductory posters discussing different groups of pictures.  My initial feelings of being overwhelmed lessened and I could wanter and view.  Sometimes looking at the descriptions of individual paintings, other times not.  While we ought to be able to appreciate a painting just by looking at, in theory, the background information helps me get a deeper sense of the each piece

But after two hours or so we were hungry.  And while I wished I could wonder around and look at other parts - like this modern section with this Andy Warhol "Double Elvis" . . . I too was interested in eating.






Someone wants to go to Boka to eat.  When we got there, we found out it is now All Water, in the lobby of Hotel 1000.  I was curious about the name All Water, when P pointed out this explanation on the menu.


Since the picture isn't that clear (but it is if you click on it), I'll help you out.

"In the 1880s the all water route would take prospectors from Seattle across the northern Pacific to the Alaskan coast.  In  the gold rush era this route created the trade in salmon and halibut industries. . . " 

It was a little after 2pm and we were told lunch was until 2pm and Happy Hour began at 3.  When I said, "So this is the unhappy hour?" we were told, "I'm sure we can get the kitchen to still do lunch."
It's only been open a few weeks.  We were all happy with our choices.





Then the group agreed to go see The Florida Project.  By this time, we'd had clouds, sunshine, drizzle, rain, more clouds, and more sunshine.  As we walked to the SIFF theater the sun was out and it was raining.  And a vibrant rainbow cleaned up the drab buildings.






 There was a lot I liked about The Florida Project, particularly the visual richness and the way the young kids had adventures.  I wandered my neighborhood like that with friends and wee also got into all sorts of mischief.  But the brashness of the mom, which got her out of some jams, made other ones worse, was painful to watch. Willem Dafoe's character Bobby was wonderful.  Justin Chang at the LA Times liked it a lot more than I did.

And finally we wandered down to "a Czech German beerhall."

Through these doors we walked into another world - a big warehouse like space with rows of communal wooden tables, a live band that was playing jazz (not polkas) when we walked in, and lots of beer.

Down the table from us the guys had 2 litre boots of beer.  (The two refers to the number of liters not the number of boots.)   Queen Ann Beer Hall is the official name, but doesn't really capture the mood for me.



Later J and I got in a good walk back to the ferry after rescuing our grandson's jacket from a restaurant where he'd left it.

A fun and busy day with family and good friends.

Dandelions: Free, Nutritious, and Abundant Veggie

The Boreal Herbal:  Wild Food and Medicine Plants of the North has renewed my commitment to take advantage of the free, no effort crops growing in my back yard.  Dandelions are the most productive such crop.  So while the dandelions are still young and fresh, I've been incorporating some into my daily meals.  Here's from breakfast yesterday.





                                                                                           

For $65 You Can Have Dinner With Sens Murkowski And Sullivan Friday in Soldotna

Celebrate Trump's First 100 Days!

Or you could have brunch with Don Young on Saturday.  For only $25.  (Senators cost more than Representatives, besides you get two of them for dinner.)

Images from the Kenai Peninsula Republican Women of Alaska Facebook page.

Eating At An Immigrant Owned Restaurant As Act Of Support And Defiance

There are many ways you can stand up for freedom, equity, decency, and the US Constitution in the new Trump reality.  One is to eat at immigrant owned restaurants to show the owners you support their rights and also to help keep them in business.  

I hadn't thought of this until I saw a retweet from Mark Meyer that said Eater would NOT send out lists of immigrant owned restaurants.  They write that they've had requests for maps and lists of immigrant owned businesses so that people could patronize and support them.  But . . .

"For all that we agree with the spirit of solidarity and inclusion behind these requests, however, Eater will not be publishing lists specifically of immigrant- or minority-owned businesses. We feel that it would be irresponsible to publish guides specifically highlighting restaurants owned by people whose lives and livelihoods may right now be threatened, because of the very real possibility that they would double as cheat sheets to help intolerant actors find new people, businesses, and families to target. In this chaotic moment, we believe it would be indefensible to widely broadcast the cultural affiliations or immigration status of any individuals or their families without their explicit permission."

Pouring Tea at Moroccan Restaurant 

Whether it's a restaurant you've been patronizing for years or one you've just discovered, let the
owners know you are there, support them, and if they have any trouble to let you know.

I suspect there aren't that many people likely to cause trouble, but 1% of Anchorage's 300,000 people is 1,000 people.  One percent of that is still 10 people.  49,573 people in Anchorage (some absentee votes are yet to be counted) voted for Trump.  (45,700 voted for Clinton.)

Milk Bottle And Hide And Seek

So, look at this picture.

Why this image?


There's a long post at madehow giving the history of the milk carton that begins like this:

"Up until recent times, milk was not usually available as a retail item. Once milk is removed from the cow, it spoils quickly in heat, and is vulnerable to contamination. Until this century, the most economical and hygienic way to store milk was to leave it in the animal. In Europe, a town cow keeper would bring his or her cow directly to the doorstep of the customer, and milk the animal there into a household container. In some places, milk was sold from a shop next door to the cow stall. In either case, the milk could not be safely stored for anything but a small amount of time. A large metal milk container was developed in Europe between 1860 and 1870. Called a churn, the lidded metal container could hold about 21.12 gal (801) of milk."

In reading about the relative benefits of plastic jugs, cardboard cartons, and glass bottles, I found out:

• Plastic cartons are recyclable, but only 29% are recycled, the rest pollute the landfill for hundreds of years.  But it's the lightest weight, so transportation is cheaper.
• Cardboard cartons come from renewable trees.  Not much heavier than plastic.
• Glass comes from sand  a non-renewable  (but plentiful) resource (and it said that sand is one of the major exports of North Korea). Very heavy!
• "extraction of raw materials and manufacturing consume, by far, the most energy in the life of a milk container. So choices that can be reused or recycled are preferable. A 1997 EPA study bears this out, as refillable glass was found to use about half as much energy during its life cycle than either plastic or gable-top cartons. "
• ultraviolet light, which can penetrate clear glass bottles (PDF) and HDPE (PDF), degrades vitamins A and D and riboflavin. That's no small matter, considering between one-third and one-half of American adults are vitamin D deficient."

My guess is that people think milk is better out of glass bottles, or at least their marketing survey said that, and so they put a picture of a glass bottle on the cardboard container.  I think it's bizarre.



Hide And Seek

My granddaughter wanted to play hide and seek yesterday.  She hasn't quite comprehended the concepts, because when she plays, she tells me where I should hide.  And she still has a great time finding me.

You've All Heard About The Guy Who Ate A Car, Right?

I was talking to my granddaughter about things and the story about the man who ate a car came to mind.  I was at the computer, so I figured I could get some video of this great feat.

I got something about a Frenchman, but no video.  Then I got the video.






It doesn't take too long to realize this has to be a spoof. First there aren't any pictures.  No way.  Second, they're all too articulate and serious.


.



But on the same Youtube page was The man who ate a lightbulb.





This guy looks pretty real, though some of the crunching noises sure seem to have been edited in.  My wife was wholly disapproving and my granddaughter and I had a serious discussion about not trying to to this and how dangerous it would be.

Next, there was the man without bones.






OK, this is getting a little weird.  But it is always amazing to me what the human body can do.  And the ways we limit ourselves by saying, 'that's impossible.'

OK, there was one more that seemed more appropriate to an almost three year old:  World's Fastest Reader




I told her she could try doing this.


Then I found this Jalopnik post that says nobody has eaten a car:

"The idea that a person has actually eaten a car is so commonly accepted that I had to figure out why that is. And that why is actually a who, and that who is a Frenchman named Michael Lotito. This is the guy that most people are pretty sure they saw eat a car on That's Incredible or something like that back in the '80s. And they almost did."

He does say that the French guy - who died in 2007 - didn't eat a car.  He went from bicycles and shopping carts to a Cesna 150.

He also concludes the video at the top is a fictional short film.  Which is what I was working on - a list of the shorts in competition for the Anchorage International Film Festival.  So enough of these diversions.

Gjusta A Nice Dinner With Friends

Friends suggested we go to dinner at Gjusta's.   When they described its location, I realized I'd read about it and even biked by it once on my way back from the beach to my mom's.  The LA Magazine article had said:

"Located just around the corner from the Google's Venice headquarters, the view of Gjusta from the street is rather unremarkable, a white-washed warehouse with a set of accordion-style windows along its front. Step inside, however, and you'll find yourself in a massive kitchen space, illuminated by large skylights that wash the room in sunlight."

No, I hadn't saved it.  I just looked and found it again.  That piece was October 30, 2014 and it said the visited it on its second day open, so it's just under a year old.  But my image was that this was where well paid Google employees went for breakfast and lunch.  Translation:  Probably very expensive.  (In the end the bill was less than $20 each and we were all full.)

I remember the article had said there's no sign telling you it's there and so at the time I took down the address to find it.




Well, see that little white paper tacked onto the door?  It's as close to a sign as there is:

My first thought when we stepped inside was 'rustic.'  There's a huge counter with food from desserts to pastramis and lox to exotic salads and pizza.  And there's bread.

On the left is, obviously, pizza on the bottom.  On top nearest is a salad made of what they called sunchokes, but I know as Jerusalem artichokes.
We had some and it was very good.  There was also a potato and beet salad.


We were determined to go to the beach today after I went through my mom's mail.  I got through as much as I could stand - I'd like a law passed banning robot phone answering - and reluctantly drove.  I'd rather go by bike, but it was going to be dark on the way home and I'm still timid about street riding at night, especially with J.

So we got a couple of hours in at the beach.   I got to do a little body surfing, though the surf was small and choppy and came at different angles.  But even so the water felt wonderful. It's definitely warmer than it was when I was growing up here.  Once I dive under an incoming wave, I lose 50 years with the rush of the water all around me.  It's fabulous.  And when you catch a wave it's heaven.  If I had to pick a way to die, it would be in the surf.  I still remember body surfing on Bali in 1968 during a Peace Corps school break.  The surf was perfect and when we were resting on shore, my friend said he'd been worried about sharks.  My reaction was, that the surf was so good, it would have been a perfect way to go.  Then a coconut fell between us and I thought being killed by a coconut was not the perfect way.  Anyhoo, I thank my parents for moving to California when they did and ending up near the beach as a kid.



We ordered our food at the counter and got some table space in the back outdoor patio.  It was a perfect place to be with good friends and sit and talk. 


This is a peculiar and changing neighborhood.  The street that runs into restaurant has homeless tents and belongings along the sidewalk on both sides.  Remember, this is a block a way from the Google Venice headquarters.  There's also a huge Gold's Gym across the street.

I don't normally take pictures of homeless without permission and I don't like to ask so I rarely have pictures, but you can't identify this guy trying to sleep across the street from Gjusta's.

I did google after we got home to get a little more background and found that Bon Apetit magazine listed Gjusta, just this August, as number two in its list of America's Best New Restaurants.



In an odd twist I also learned that we ate at their sister restaurant nearby at a friend's suggestion last July. 

Life After Death: Random LA Shots

My mom was 93 and we've been able to spend a lot of time with her over the last two years as she lost her mobility, but not her wit.  She never wanted to be 'kept alive' and she was able to stay in her home with the help of a full time caregiver and our monthly visits.  She flunked the hospice test twice - including last May.  But this time she qualified as her body was starting to shut down and she stopped eating and drinking.  And even though it's expected, and it's at the end of a long, interesting, and very productive life of service to others, it's still the final, irrevocable cutting of ties to the past.

So we're doing our best to enjoy the memories as we start cleaning up things she wouldn't let us throw away while she was alive.  I understand.  She knew where things were.  Really, she'd tell me exactly where to find things.  But there were also way too many old plastic containers, pens, old papers, dried pussy willows, and bars of soap.  And so now we're trying to take stock of what there is.  What needs to go, what's still good.  We're reading old letters and the deed to the house, finding little surprises everywhere.

The rest of this post is just some pictures I've taken as we run our errands around LA with a little bit of commentary.

I was coming back from a bike ride to the beach to clear my head.  I couldn't imagine how this car got squeezed between the wall and the light post.  Someone told me another car, removed already, had been speeding down Pacific.  I'm guessing it clipped the front of this one and pushed it into there.  It was only a little later that I realized that I'd been right there on my bike not more than 30 minutes before this happened on the way to the beach.  And people think riding in the street isn't safe.

This iris was blooming outside my mom's window the day she died.

I was so relieved to learn I could get gluten free vodka!

I remember being impressed with the irony of this sign when I was a young kid.  It's still up in the garage 50 some years later.

We had to go downtown to get death certificates.  It took less time to fill out the application, wait in the short line, and have them printed, than it did to listen to the whole taped message on the phone so I could talk to an actual person to see if they were ready to be picked up.  Phone service - moderate.  In person service - excellent.  LA County Health Department.

After passing a parking lot where you could park for $4 for the first ten minutes, finding a meter that cost only fifty cents per hour seemed like a deal.  Plus it was right next to Mexicali restaurant, a modest but delicious lunch spot.  Here's the array of salsas. 

Korea Times - click to read more clearly

Since things went so much faster than expected at the health department, we took a leisurely ride along Wilshire Blvd to the attorney's office.  We passed the old Ambassador Hotel where Robert Kennedy was shot.  It now has a Robert Kennedy park in front and what looked like a school where the hotel was.  Across the street was a sign for the old Brown Derby, but the derby shaped building was gone.  The magnificent art deco Bullocks Wilshire department store now houses Southewestern Law school.

Korea Town edges into Wilshire as well and this sign for the Korea Times seemed a good reminder of how cities evolve.  

Here's an unfinished metro station near the LA County Museum of Art, as the subway is finally reaching west after years of opposition from Beverly Hills folks who didn't want to give the riffraff an easy way to their neighborhoods. 

And here's a lantana that I grew up with and is still blooming after so long.  But I didn't know that it was poisonous.  From the Illinois Veterinarian Medicine Library:

"Lantana (yellow sage) is a native of tropical Americas and West Africa. In the northern states including Illinois, it is grown as a garden annual reaching 12-18 inches tall . In the south, from Florida to California, it grows as a perennial shrub of 3-6 feet tall. In the tropics, it may grow even taller. Leaves are opposite, ovate, 1-5 inches long and 1-2 inches wide, with very small rounded teeth, somewhat rough and hairy. Leaves are aromatic when crushed. Flowers are borne in dense clusters 1-2 inches across on the axils near the top of the stem. Each flower is tubular with 4 lobes flaring to about 1/4 inch, initially yellow or pink gradually changing to orange and deep red. Often, the different colored flowers are present on the same cluster. Fruit is fleshy, greenish-blue to black, and berry-like with each containing one seed."

I didn't know it was poisonous:

"Animals in pastures with sufficient forage will often avoid Lantana, perhaps because of its pungent aroma and taste, but animals unfamiliar to the plant may ingest enough to affect them. Fifty to ninety percent of animals newly exposed may be affected. Foliage and ripe berries contain the toxic substances with the toxins being in higher concentrations in the green berries. Species affected include cattle, sheep, horses, dogs, guinea pigs, and rabbits (Ross, Ivan A. Medicial plants of the world. Totowa, N.J.: Humana. 1999. p. 187.)"

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Sharing The Newspaper On The Deck At Breakfast

It's nice to eat breakfast outside on the deck again and I more than happy to share with the damsel flies. 

Bear Tooth Valet Parking for Jiro Dreams of Sushi

Bicycle Commuters of Anchorage (BCA) had free valet parking for bikes at the Bear Tooth last Monday.  (But they did take donations.)

We were there to see Jiro Dreams of Sushi - part of the Alaska Food Film Fest.  




This was a long, but thought-provoking movie about what the movie touts as the greatest sushi maker in Japan.  At 85 he's still making sushi at his restaurant where reservations must be made at least a month in advance.  He's got three Michelin stars.  And his two sons are working for him.  The younger son has opened his own restaurant, but the older son, over 60 now, is still waiting to take over from his father.

Two Screenshots from Jiro Dreams of Sushi Trailer

Jiro left home as a child and made his way to this position.  So clearly he didn't have much of a model for how to father. 

This film is one more case study for us to ponder the sacrificing of personal life to become 'the best' of something.  He says he left for work before his kids were up in the morning and got back when they were already sleeping.  But he has had his son's working for him for 40 years.  But as depicted in the film, he is clearly the boss, even with his sons are old enough to grandfathers.  Is perfect sushi that important?

I did wonder at one point why the Alaska Center for the Environment was sponsoring this movie.  But then Jiro talked about how good fish are disappearing and the importance of sustainable fishing. 

I think the movie could be edited.  But overall it introduced me to the world of a Tokyo restaurant and the now common worldwide food known as sushi.

And so we found ourselves headed toward Yamato Ya for a little sushi after the movie.

We got a mix of sushi and sashimi.

For the photographically curious, I'm using Aperture now (instead of iPhoto) and I experimented with curves on the first and third images here.