Author: rljwander

Paris, Île-de-France, France
November 11, 2014

 

It seemed a good idea when I booked my ticket. Why not fly Air France? Get a little taste of the culture, Rob. You know! Break in easy with a little English, little French. Acclimate over the Atlantic. Kinda ease into things. It’s genius.
One small, teeny, tiny little flaw in my plan Just a minor oversight. Understandable miscalculation. Probably something anyone might have overlooked . . .

It’s Air………..FRANCE.

Apparently, they speak FRENCH on AIR FRANCE?

And only FRENCH.

One might think there would be some other nouveau American travelers foolish enough to have not flown virgin . . . I mean Virgin . . or United, or . . . I don’t know . . . AMERICAN . . . on this plane.

Uhhhh . . . no. I mean . . . “non”

Au contraire, mon frere.

It wasn’t that I wasn’t warned. I had clues and nothing gets by Monsieur Ohb–sare–vey–see–own.

Standing in the baggage check in line, I watched each person in front of me as they handed their passport and boarding pass to the Air France agent. (Hint to you new travelers: get in the back of the line and watch what others do and say so you don’t look like a total moron) So as I carefully observed each passenger and sought to memorize the drill, it occurred to me . . . hmmmm . . . everyone has a red passport, but mine is blue. Wonder why mine is blue?

Maybe it’s newer?

New York City, New York
November 10, 2014

 

Grand Central Station

I had an eerie walk my first night in New York when I got lost on the way to the theater, found myself staring at my reflection ( old guy, about 5’11”, white hair) in a series of storefront windows with no merchandise, as if the entire street had been abandoned. Nothing. Every window was empty. I thought, oh boy Rob, you’ve wandered into the wrong side of town, and you’re running out of time.

Take a deep breath, look around for clues, you’ll figure out where you are. You’ve got time.

Chrysler Building

Hmmm? There’s a jewelry store. Hey, there’s another one. And another one. Weird. The whole damn street is jewelry stores,

I wandered down that same street today and it finally dawned on me where I was. Your “Diamond District” looks much different by day.

Everywhere I turn there is another HM Store; I don’t even know what H&M stands for. There are designer stores in Midtown, designer stores in Soho; hell, I saw a hattery , , , when’s the last time you saw a hattery? . . . in Brooklyn advertising . . . I kid you not . . . Stetsons. I suppose there must be cowboys east of the East River, but I haven’t seen them sporting their chapeaus.

I don’t think I’ll make it to the Garment District. I’m not a style guy. I’m a book guy.

Sometimes

Every Sunday morning . . .well . . .except yesterday . . . I walk out to my driveway to find that blue wrapper which can only mean “the Sunday Times.” I have a ritual. I bring that monster of a newspaper into the kitchen, remove the double wrap, turn each section so each is upright and facing forward (what do you suppose the upright and facing forward thing is all about?), and then I condense. I’m a good condenser.

The easest and surest way to condense your Sunday Times is to first remove fashion.If you take away the “Style” section, and then those hefty, glossy, 1/4″ thick magazines devoted to Fossil, Faragamo, Fendi, and who knows how many others? . . . those are just the “Fs” . . .you’re on your way to the good stuff.

You Learn More

I have one exception to this rule. Each year, one of those fashion inserts is devoted to nothing but watches. I love watches. If I were a wealthy man, I would collect watches. I like the craftsmanship. I like the history. I like that I can wear time on my sleeve.

Looking Down, Than Up

Oh . . . don’t forget to toss the society pages. I’m sure the announcement of the wedding of the High Fallutin family’s daughter to the Hoy Polloy’s son is of vital significance, especially to the Fallutins and Polloys, but it’s not relevant to my world and we’re talking time management here people.

Finally, toss the Business section. I know, I know . . . I probably should both understand and care about that stuff, but i don’t. (Try this test at home: write a dollar sign down on a piece of paper. Okay? Now stare at it. Okay? Now quickly ask yourself, “Is that important?”)

Now, once you’ve removed style, status and money, you’ll find books. The Book section of the Sunday Times , like the reading room in the New York City Library, is a reminder in an otherwise glossy world preoccupied with appearance, status and wealth, that it is knowledge that we should spend our time pursuing.

 

New York City, New York
November 09, 2014

A View from Brooklyn

 

According to the nifty Health app on my new iPhone 6, I walked 11.6 miles yesterday and 12.03 miles today. Apparently, your walking muscles are not your cycling muscles. Who knew? Last night I slept for seven hours; I can’t remember the last time I slept so long and well.

Observation No. 1

If and when it leaves Broadway and comes to the West Coast. . . I don’t care what the price is . . .go see “Beautiful.” The lady from Dallas and her husband sitting with me in the back row of Orchestra, looked at one another, caught each other mouthing the words to Tapestry, and finally said, “Oh what the hell” (in a Texas accent) and started singing out loud during the encore finale. I do not have words to describe how unbelievably talented the actors were in this musical.

Observation No. 2

One of the themes of “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime” is how frequently we do not see. The protagonist, in describing the sensory overload that autistics must endure, says “I see everything.” and goes on to say, “Most people are lazy. They never look at everything. They do what is called “glancing.”

Yesterday, I saw a real Rembrandt for the first time. I saw the sad look in Aristotle’s eyes in contemplating a blind Homer. I saw even more poignant eyes in his own self portrait at an age four years younger than I am now.

I’ve found that this silly blog has made me observe, when I might have otherwise glanced. If you walk down a street with the intent of making a mental note of what you see, so as to share it with others, you look more closely and see so much more. I don’t observe enough. I should. It is a far more interesting world when you do.

For example, take a look at these two pictures which I took from Brooklyn of the Manhattan Bridge.

Color is a marvelous gift, but sometimes doesn’t it seem we see better in black and white?

Observation No. 3

Should you ever decide to walk back and forth to Brooklyn over the Brooklyn Bridge, do not do it on a day when 10,000 members of Tap a . . . I’m sorry, I meant to say . . .”Donate a Kidney” decide to march in support of their cause. Can a bladder be transplanted? I need to step up from Economy Size to a full size sedan.

Observation No. 4

Frank Gehry is inspired.

Gehry

Observation No 5

The cannoli maker at Ferrara in Little Italy is more inspired. (A thank you to my book club pal Chuck Rait for harkening back to a childhood memory to steer me toward lunch. The panini was maybe the best lunch I’ve ever had.

Washington Square Chess

Observation No. 7

Kate and Sam will tell you that one of my favorite movies is Searching for Bobby Fischer.. “You’ve lost; you just don’t know it yet” is one of the greatest lines ever. The men in Washington Park really do play speed chess. An entire game in less than five minutes

Observation No. 8

i got a smile from a young mom and her nervous daughter. . ..she must have been 4 . . when I asked her If her ears popped on the elevator ride to the top of the Empire State Building. Waited an hour for the sunset. Was worth it.

New York City, New York
November 08, 2014

Notes on first day in New York . . .

New York Pedestrian

Observation No. 1: At 7:00 a.m. on a Saturday morning there are two kinds of New Yorkers out and about: (1) dog walkers who seem to favor your Labradoodles, and (2) joggers who run only in a counter clockwise direction around the Jackie O Reservoir in Central Park and resent a clueless tourist walking clockwise.

Central Park

Observation No. 2: Listen carefully as you walk down a sidewalk and often you will hear three separate languages spoken within earshot at the same time.

Observation No. 3: At a fascinating lecture at the New York Historical Society by Geoffrey Ward, author of the companion book to Ken Burns’ recent PBS documentary on the Roosevelts, I concluded that by the eloquence of the speaker–just an extraordinary talk which, if you have the chance find the podcast, which will be produced by the Society, do yourself a favor and listen to it-and the eloquence of those in the audience who stepped to the microphone to ask questions,I was not only the youngest in the crowd…by far . . .but the least educated . . . by far.

New York Historical Society

I particularly loved two quotes: (1) by Alice Roosevelt, Teddy’s sister, who was want to say, “If you don’t have anything nice to same about someone, sit down next to me”, and (2) by Teddy himself on the only occasion he was known to have gotten drunk, when asked how much he had drank, said simply, “Not so much that I couldn’t wind my watch in the morning.”

Incidentally, there is a wonderful quote from T.S. Eliot inscribed in the marble as you enter the historical society building,

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all of our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time

Observation No. 4: Central Park in the fall, when the leaves are turning, the sun is out, and the air is crisp, must be one of the most wonderful places on earth. I was particularly moved by a series of green park benches near the Bow Bridge where brass plates can be found with all manner of touching inscriptions.

Central Park

Leonard Dear

Observation No. 5: I should have realized the enormity of the Metropolitan Museum of Art when, approaching it from the rear, it took me twenty minutes to get to the front door. Rembrandt’s Aristotle Contemplating the Bust of Homer, Vermeer’s Young Woman with a Water Pitcher, Van Gough’s Self Portrait in the straw hat, Monet’s Haystacks…..there are no words. I was floored by Pieter Clara’s Still Life with a Skull. How can you paint glass? Jaw dropping. (“Would the middle aged man with the headset please please remove his lower lip from the floor, step back and let other’s see the painting”) And my personal favorite, Rembrandt’s self portrait at age 54. Very, very moving.

Observation No. 6: A pastrami sandwich at Carnegie Deli is gi-normous. Top it off with a pickle and a Pepsi and it was well worth the block long line.

This is the small sandwich?

Observation No. 7: Twice I violated the cardinal rule of avoiding eye contact and not speaking to anyone in the subway. Once when lost on the west side last night a young African American man very gently and kindly pointed out that I needed to swipe my MetroCard twice to exit. The second time when making small talk with another African American elderly gentleman while squeezed together like sardines on the Uptown 6 line tonight (don’t I sound like a pro?), commented on my “accent” (Californians have accents?) and we laughed about the glee on the faces of a mother and daughter when their stop arrived and they rapidly and not too gently parted the crowd to get out.

Observation No. 8: Nighttime in Times Square is brighter than daytime.

New York City, New York
November 07, 2014

First night in the Big Apple and I could use a big apple. Had a hot dog from a street vendor in Times Square (which incidentally is much smaller than I expected. . . The Square, not the hot dog) before stepping into the theater, but otherwise few calories today.

The Curious Incident

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime was fun visually. High tech set was stunning. But something was lost from the book and the lead was, I thought, weak.

Took several wrong subways on way back to hotel, but getting the hang of it. Back to the hotel by 12:15. I think I’m representing well the Northern California Chapter of Insomniacs Anonymous. Must be a meeting around here somewhere.

“Hello, my name is Rob. I don’t sleep. . . ”

“Hello, Rob”

New York City, New York,
November 06, 2014

According to the monitor on the back of the seat in front of me, here in Seat 31c of your Boeing 757, here on United flight 758 San Francisco to New York JFK, I am now 39009 feet above Marshall, the small Michigan town in which, as a boy I used to watch jets fly overhead and wonder.

We’re hauling ass at 586 mph, aided by a tail wind of 88mph. It’s cold outside, -68F. (just like Michigan. . . ) The flight attendant’s voice is receding down the aisle, growing fainter and fainter, repeating “Trash, cups, cans and glasses.. . Trash, cups, cans and glasses. . .trash, cups, cans and glasses.”

My monitor tells me our Mach speed is 0.78 and I am reminded of those occasions as a boy, in that town now 39005 feet below….we must have dropped 4’…when the whole earth would shake with the sound of a sonic boom. My kids have never heard a sonic boom. It was at the time an aeronautic wonder for an eight year old boy . . the stuff of astronauts, test pilots and X15 rocket ships.

According to this screen, we are scheduled to arrive in New York at 3:16 p.m., 23 minutes ahead of schedule. So like time, I guess. We hope time might slow down so we not arrive at our destination sooner than planned or expected , but we pine for the heady days of sonic booms.

Must be the tailwind.

San Francisco, California

November 6, 2014

 

Travel is an acquired skill

As I sit here in the SFO Airport at 5:00 a.m., I can’t help but watch the seasoned travelers, business and pleasure, who know where to sit to position themselves for an electrical outlet for their iGadget of choice, who have a hard shell carry-on that they know meets height/width/depth requirements (as opposed to my overstuffed bag [now checked in]), and have therefore managed to avoid the anxiety overstuffing brings, and who knew, no doubt long ago, that an overstuffed breakfast burrito from Urban Tortilla was maybe not the right choice on a nervous stomach.

Reading, while it may clue you into the virtues of a man satchel (this thing is actually pretty handy) is no substitute for experience. We learn by doing.

So right now I’m going to ignore that overstuffed observation and read my New Yorker where I will find, for the first time in the years I have been reading it, the “Goings On About Town” section actually relevant.

Santa Rosa, California, United States
November 04, 2014

 

Did I mention I was stopping in New York City?

No? Well, I can explain. It all started when this woman winked at me.

Well, kinda.

See, in the miserable corner of hell known as Match Dot Com, a “wink” is a less than subtle means by which one middle aged man or woman, nervous and feeling like an idiot, but intrigued by  a written profile and photograph, expresses tentative interest in another woman or man, equally nervous and equally an idiot. For those of us who last tried this by passing notes in Miss Barbieri’s seventh grade sixth period English class—for my money, a far better method– a wink is just the start of death by sometimes prolonged, but in my case, usually self-inflicted sudden embarrassment.

So, what did I do? Duh? I winked back.

One thing led to another and we agreed to meet for dinner in Berkeley. Trendy place, pleasant dinner, sharing pictures of the kids, nice conversation . . . you know the drill. Right up until–when discussing travel experience–I happened to mention I had never been to New York City.

Long pause.

No………I mean long pause.

No . . . I mean really long pause.

Followed by the same question being asked three times, in gradually decelerating succession, her voice growing lower and lower and the emphasis shifting from word to word each time it was asked.

“YOU . . . have never been to New York City?”

“You have . . . NEVER . . . been to New York City?”

“You have never been to . . . NEW YORK CITY?”

Followed by another long pause and a final question . . . “Really?”  (At least I think it was a question; it might have just been a statement.)

To which I responded, “Really.”  (That, I am pretty sure was a statement)

Let’s just say the sound of screeching brakes was deafening. Flame out. Auger in. I had been DQ’ed before I put my track shoes on, let alone put my feet in the starting blocks. History. Kaputt. “Thanks for coming by. Don, what do we have by way of parting gifts for our contestant?”

I summoned a vertebra or two and fired back saying “Oh yeah, well have you ever been to St. Andrews, Carnoustie, or Ballybunnion,?”  But they didn’t count. For the painful balance of the date, she affectionately . . . at least I like to think it was affectionately . . .referred to me as a “hayseed” and good naturedly, pointed to the imaginary straw I might want to reposition above my right ear.

A grown man who had never been to Gotham? I wasn’t a date; I was a novelty.

Well, not for long. To quote ol’ Blue Eyes himself, “Start spreading the news . . . I’m leavin today (well not today, but later this week), my little town blues are melting away (technically, they would be more suburban and I really didn’t feel that down) ,these vagabond shoes are longing to stray” . . .

You get the idea.

Santa Rosa, California,
November 02, 2014

 

 

I don’t think this is going to work.

 

According to Alex Wagner, founder and director of A La Carte Paris, there are 10 Mistakes Visitors Must Avoid. These include such things as eating dinner before 8:00 p.m. (good to know), wasting time at the Eiffel Tower and wasting d’argent sur le Champs Elysees (quelle surprise), and mixing up “tu” and “vous” (what “eed-ee–oat” doesn’t know his familiar from his formal, mon dieu!)

Doesn’t seem insurmountable. Let’s read on.

Uh oh . ., Mistake No. 4 . . . that one could be a problem.  “Dressing Like a Tourist.” Hmmmm . . . anyone who knows me knows sartorial is not my strong suit. (Worsted, maybe, but not strong.) This is a faux I can paw right out of the park. Shit.

Better read up. Hmmmm….casual but elegant? I can do that.

Orrrrr……maybe not.

According to Alex, no Levi 501s. (There is a another make and model?) Jeans have to be dark, tight fitting and straight cut. (Uhhh boy). No T shirts where the sleeve might fit more than one arm? (They make them to fit only one?). No running shoes with space age synthetic fabrics and upturned tips. No fleece? No backpack? No belly belts (which Alex says your stylish Parisian derisively calls a waist banana). What kind of backward country am I going to? How do you say “I’m screwed” in French?

Wardrobe!!!

Okay, talk to me Alex. I take “in-struc-zee–own”

Leather shoes? Check. A man purse? Really, Alex? A “hand held vintage sports bag or an over the shoulder satchel no smaller than 8 1/2 x 11?” Jesus Alex, I’ll look like David Beckham . . . okay, maybe not David Beckham.

And a scarf.

You’re kidding me, right Alex? A scarf? I haven’t worn a scarf since my mom outfitted me with idiot mittens in grade school. You know, the ones with a string that went through your sleeves up and over the shoulder to connect them so you wouldn’t lose them on the way home from school).

Not just any scarf. Say’s right here. Has to be 70″ long; not your standard 60″.(Who didn’t know that?) and it has to be tied in yer “classic Parisian or European knot”

Hmmmm….U Tube!!!

Thank god for Antonio Sentena, the founder of “Real Men Real Style.” Tony has an instructional video on how to tie a scarf in a Parisian knot. Atta boy Tony. Let me get a mirror . . .”uh huh . . , fold in half . . . got it . . .make a loop . . . pass loose end through the loop . . . and “Voila!”

Repetez, s’il vous plait . . . I’m screwed.

Friday,

October 31, 2014

Santa Rosa, CA

 

Okay, maybe I should ease back on planning

 

I admit it. I tend to plan. I find a good plan is comforting. It’s nice to know where I need to be, when, and what I’m supposed to do.

Friends tell me I tend to overdo it and might want to consider at least occasionally going without a plan. They might have a point. I plan to do that.

I think it was either the great travel planner Caesar,  or maybe it was Eisenhower –it might have been Rick Steves –who said, when planning his first sojourn (see, I’m already speaking the language) to France, “No plan survives the first encounter with the enemy.” I’m mindful of that, but don’t worry; I have a contingency plan should that happen.

I’m also mindful of the old Yiddish proverb, “Men plan and God laughs.”   Personally, I think the Cosmic Comedian still works with an old day planner and frequently adds a handwritten note in the margin “Needs more irony.”

It’s a bad habit.

 

So I get it. I’m not naive. (I told ya I speak the language) I fully expect a general strike will be declared (as I hear they often are) just about the time the wheels of my Air France flight touches down at Charles de Gaulle.

I have a plan for that too.