Pleasant Bay, Cape Cod Mass

Ahhhh, Pleasant Bay. This is what I just drove 3000 miles for.

Barlows Clam Bar, Rt 6, Bourne Mass.

My final stop before arriving on Cape Cod is Barlow's Clam Bar on Rt 6 in Bourne, overlooking the Cape Cod Canal. I just discovered this place a few years ago. They do a very good lobster roll, one avoiding all the more common pitfalls. They also have lobster "photo ops" where you can stick your head though and be photographed as a giant lobster - which is a big hit with the two to four year old set.

A few worlds on the lobster roll -

It MUST be on a New England style hot dog roll, ideally split and buttered, and toasted to a golden brown on the grill. A hamburger bun is NOT ok, nor is (gasp) a bulkie roll, a grotesque perversion of the New England classic common to expat New Yorkers. (The Bulkie is way too chewy, and overpowers the lobster meat with its floury-ness.)

All that goes into the lobster roll is lobster meat* and a leaf or two of lettuce, ideally Boston lettuce, but butter lettuce will do in a pinch. Romaine is icky in this context, and Mesclun way too gourmet, and thus liable to incite ridicule. A generous gob of Mayo is traditional (and yummy) but may be omitted by the phobic. It is usually served in a cardboard sleeve, and may be accompanied by fries, onion rings or chips.

If the lobster has been too salad-ized with the addition of celery or god forbid scallions the proprietor should be spanked early and often.

Barlow's meets all these criteria, has a great view of the canal. It is just about two minutes south of the Sagamore bridge on the West side of the canal. It's a good deal too, at $2-3 dollars less than most places over the bridge, and it includes fries. (I remember when Lobster rolls were $4.99 on the Cape. Sigh!)

* A good lobster roll won't be all claw meat, but a generous mix of the whole beast.

Barlows

Lake Erie

The view of Lake Erie from a bluff side park near the White Turkey.

White Turkey Drive In

Today I had lunch at the The White Turkey Drive In, in Conneaut, Ohio. This place was founded in 1952, and hasn't changed one bit since. It was by far the most charming and atmospheric of the joints I visited on this trip, and had shady picnic tables out back surrounded by a beautiful perennial garden.

I had the the turkey sandwich called the "Large Marge." (No, it's not named for the lesbian ghost trucker in Pee Wee's Big Adventure, but for the restaurant's original proprietress.)

I can only describe the sandwich as a "pulled turkey" sandwich. It is startlingly like North Carolina BBQ, but made with white meat turkey instead of pork. It was topped with bacon and American cheese. It was delicious, and very vintage-y in character as you'd expect from the looks of this place. It was accompanied by a delicious real milkshake, freshly made and with globs of vanilla ice cream still slightly unblended. The onion rings were good, but of the crumb breading type, which is not my favorite. (My mother's onion rings were arguably the gold standard, closely followed by those at Liam's on Nauset Beach in Orleans Mass on Cape Cod.)

This place was so sweetly retro-Americana that I was nearly moved to tears while waiting for my sandwich. (I'm funny that way.)

I suddenly understood the much vaunted charm of the Midwest. I confess this has previously largely escaped me.



Plus the state flag of Ohio is a pennant, the only one in the US, which is way cool.

Gray Bros. Cafeteria, Mooresville IN

Keely aware of the irony, as my trusty sidekick at home nurses "the gout", I have continued my cross - country junk food fest here in Mooresville Indiana, with a plate of Hoosier Chicken.

Lunch at the Grey Bros Cafeteria is an experience in belt loosening midwestern goodness. I get in line after recovering from the oddly creepy sensation of entering a room filled with two hundred white people. (Remember, I live in Los Angeles, the most integrated city in America. We just don't have rooms full of white people.) It feels like an odd inversion of the scene in Animal House where they go to the black nightclub. It is odder still because I am the only one creeped out. (For those of you who may not know me personally, at this point I should confess to being Caucasian.)

Turning back from digression to digestion; Hoosier Chicken is fried chicken enrobed in a softball sized lump of chicken gravy. The gravy is so thick that calling it chicken pudding would really be more accurate. The crispy coating of the chicken sops up the gravy and becomes a deliciously soft chicken ambrosia. It has that unmistakable muted cafeteria taste, no sharp flavor's or unruly spices, but rich and delicious nonetheless. The slaw is mild and just slightly tart, flecked with a seed that manages to be simultaneously tasty and indiscernible. (Celery seed? Too small for Craway Seeds...)

The vegetables appear to come from the massive central cookery where all cafeteria veggies sold in the US are made. The only discernible difference to southern cafeteria / boarding house veggies is the absence of bacon fat.

I closed out the meal with a slab of butterscotch pie, and washed it down with endless glasses of unsweetened iced tea.

A totally delicious meal, and once again lunch keeps me full through breakfast the next day.

Arthur Bryant's BBQ, yet again...

It's a good eight hours after I had lunch at Arthur Bryant's, and I am STILL full.

I consider myself extremely fortunate among coastal dwellers, because this is the third (or fourth?) time I have been privileged to eat at Arthur Bryant's in Kansas City, MO. (Calvin Trillin calls this the best restaurant on the planet.)

The first time I went I was under-impressed. Gasp! Probably because I had the pulled pork, which is not really the thing here as Mr Bryant hailed from Texas originally. Not being a big brisket lover, and unable to eat ribs due to orthodontia; I opted for the burnt ends sandwich this time - and it was utterly spectacular. Smoky and sweet, with a crunchy richness and a lingering mildly hot finish.

Great people watching here - perhaps the most integrated place I've ever been in the Midwest. Everyone is slightly hushed, as befits a temple; united in awed reverence for the piles of smoky perfection slathered in the incredible sauce, which Jane Stern calls "nearly a soul food curry." It's not a bad description.

In line I stood in front of a six lucky culinary school students, on a field trip with their supervising chef. All of them asking her: "Chef, Chef" should I have the brisket, or the ribs?" etc. In a motherly style she coordinated their orders so between them they had combo plates which managed to include every single thing on the menu. I picked up on the culinary school vibe and said to the chef "Great field trip." and she positively beamed.

The only thing I regret is that it's a twenty hour drive from home...

Mom's Cafe, Salina Utah

Mom's Cafe - 10 E Main St, Salina Utah.

This is a spectacularly worthy detour off of I-70 in Utah, it's also the last good food (or any food except live rattlesnake) for the next 120 miles heading eastbound.

Salina looks like a Hollywood movie set of a cowboy town. Mom's sits square on the most prominent corner in town. Mom's has been dishing up breakfast and lunch to the ranchers in these parts for over seventy years.

This was my second visit to Mom's (My first was two years ago with my Dad.) This time I went whole hog - chicken fried steak slathered in cream gravy, a "scone" (which in Utah means a piece of fry bread.) , mashed taters, corn and sour cream blueberry pie for desert. The only thing that wasn't perfect was the taters which seemed to come out of a box, but I can forgive that, as the chicken fried steak was a revelation.

Urp! It's nearly ten hours later and I'm still full.

This pace is really, really good, and qualifies as what folks in my generation sometimes call a "Flo" restaurant. (A TV reference to the character Flo in the 70's tv show"Alice")

In a bit of nearly surreal synchronicity, just as I drove out of town I got a call from my roommate back in LA, who had just been diagnosed with gout. Gout?

Maybe it's good thing that I live seven hundred miles from Mom's.
_________________________________________


PS: This is my first ever mobile phone post.... Cool, huh?

Life's a Beach...

Mad Cow or Mad FDA?

"WASHINGTON (AP) — The Bush administration said Tuesday it will fight to keep meatpackers from testing all their animals for mad cow disease." - USA Today

Can you believe this? A private company want to test all of its beef, using the same tests the government uses and the administration is trying to stop them, claiming "false positive" tests may provoke panic.

Oxycontin not adddictive?

From the "can you believe this" dept...

"Purdue Pharma L.P., its president, top lawyer and former chief medical officer will pay $634.5 million in fines for claiming the drug was less addictive and less subject to abuse than other pain medications, U.S. Attorney John Brownlee said."

- NY Times May 11th 2007

Really, it's not addictive, just ask Rush Limbaugh...

Not a Healthcare Crisis, but an Insurance one.

From a recent NY Times article on long term care insurers:

“The bottom line is that insurance companies make money when they don’t pay claims,” said Mary Beth Senkewicz, who resigned last year as a senior executive at the National Association of Insurance Commissioners. “They’ll do anything to avoid paying, because if they wait long enough, they know the policyholders will die.”

As you read the NY Time article, bear in mind the Bush administration wants to dismantle Medicare and force everyone into the greedy clutches of exactly these private insurers. The radical free market wing of the Republican party argues that private business can meet people's needs more effectively than government programs. What is clear is that what big business does best is to protect the interests of big business.

Every interaction I have had with my insurance in the last few years has been an exercise in frustration. The process has deliberately been made complex so that they can deny claims. No form in triplicate - denied! Form electronically submitted - denied! Form not electronically submitted - denied!

The best thing we could do for health care in the county is bar private health insurance from the market in favor of single payer. Did you know that what the insurance companies spend on lobbying congress every year is more than enough to insure every uninsured person in this country? Imagine where we'd be if the administration had targeted that profound waste of resources instead of squandering billions on the war in Iraq.

Bush accuses Dems of "Using Troops as leverage to win domestic political battles."

From the "it takes one to know one" dept....

"President Bush on Saturday accused Democrats who are moving anti-war legislation through Congress of using troops as leverage to win domestic political battles."

Wait a minute - do they think the public is completely stupid? Using the troops to win domestic policy battles is the Bush regime's stock in trade. Aren't these the same folks who silence debate by accusing anyone who disagrees with them of "not supporting the troops"?

The appalling medical care crises in the VA goes hand in glove with the administration's disdain for the middle class and the poor.

The window dressing around "fixing" the VA crisis ignores the fact that caring for the service folks wounded in this war will cost billion and billions of dollars for the next thirty or forty years. These funds have not been allocated under any of the President's supplemental spending bills. In this bit of budget sneakery, "supplemental" can be translated as "we don't want to fess up to the war's real cost, either in dollars or lives." They'd prefer to pass those costs along to your great-grandchildren, the better to force dismantling the social safety net down the road.

The administration clearly doesn't really care about effectively managing policy to provide for the troops*, they care about "appearing" to care about the troops.

As Edward Albee said in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolfe: "Truth or illusion George, truth or illusion?"

*Actually the President doesn't cotton to policy at all, given his professed disdain for reading.

Snorkeler, mistaken for rodent, shot.

NEWS OF THE WEIRD -

It seems a man named Roderick mistook a snorkeler in a river in Eugene, OR for a Nutria, and shot him in the face at point blank range.

Despite sounding uncannily like a sports nutrition beverage, a Nutria is a capybera-esque rodent, bigger than a muskrat, but smaller than a beaver.

As the shooter was in possession of crystal meth at the time of the shooting, the story appears to be page from Hunter S. Thompson, a wacky crystal-meth induced hallucination.

On the other hand, perhaps the shooter is a hunting buddy of Dick Cheney's.

"Roderick told deputies he thought Cheesman was a nutria swimming in the Smith River near Reedsport, about 90 miles southwest of Eugene, and shot him with a .22-caliber rifle, police said." - CNN

It's a tad reminiscent of Jimmy Carter's unfortunate rabbit-wacking incident.

Though they have quite similar teeth, as you can see the rodent above looks totally unlike a snorkeler....

How would a patriot act?

Where's the Presidents "straight up or down vote" rhetoric now?

Did you know that the President just fired 7 Deputy US Attorneys, in districts around the country; not because they weren't doing their jobs, or because they were corrupt, but because they didn't share Albert Gonzalez' radical ideology? This crass political maneuver is a last ditch effort to retain influence over law enforcement. The President's desire for political due process has gone out the window after the "whupping" the Republicans were delivered in the mid term elections.

Last year, while comfortably in the majority, the President spoke often of nominees for federal positions deserving "a straight up or down vote." Now, knowing he's unable to continue to foist his radical ideology on us, he's crassly manipulating the law and the political process to avoid an up or down vote on his nominees.

"In March 2006, President Bush signed the reauthorization of the PATRIOT Act. Included in that bill was a provision allowing interim U.S. attorneys appointed by the president to serve indefinitely without Senate confirmation." - Radley Balko, quoted in Fox News.

This means that his seven new appointees can serve the rest of Bush's term of office, with no "up or down vote" and in defiance of the constitutional protections against the potential abuses of the executive branch.

This Rovian maneuver clearly illustrates the thinking of the radicals who've hijacked the Republican party: to wit, "if we can't win fair and square we'll just stack the deck."

Having been given a drubbing in the "straight up or down vote" arena, it seems the President has lost his taste for democracy...

James Hartline - Have you seen this nutbag?

Have you seen the blog of this San Diego "ex-gay" nutbag?

Hmmmm...

For someone who claims to be an "ex-gay" he sure spends a lot of time thinking about naked men...

"I hope God will help us shoot down their planes."

"I hope God will help us shoot down their planes."

- Sheik Mohamoud Ibrahim Suley, a leader of the Somali Islamic Party currently at war with Ethiopia.

What the F#ck?

Call me old fashioned, but it's hard to imagine that God is interested in shooting down planes....

The Somali government has been in a shambles since the longstanding dictatorship was toppled there in 1991. The US backed government has failed, and the government's effectiveness there is limited to a small area surrounding the capital. The country is now a haven for Al Qaeda, who are using it as a base to expand militant Islamic hegemony in the horn of Africa.

Hmmm...

Am I having Deja Vu?

A Child's Christmas in Hollywood

People say there are no seasons in LA, but the signs of Christmas are everywhere -

Santa hats have appeared on the Styrofoam wig forms in the shops on Hollywood boulevard.

The hookers have broken out their red patent leather boots.

The scientologists have fired up the snow machine at the "sit on Santa’s lap" personality testing center.

All is right with the world.

Ho! Ho! Ho!

Ahem

The one below is especially good - "Santa as Creepy Voyeur." Ah, Hollywood!

Tea at the Oriental Hotel, Bangkok

On my third day in Thailand I investigate the bastion of Old Bangkok elegance known as the Oriental Hotel.

The most cost effective way to do this is by having Tea in the Authors' Lounge, connected to the hotel’s library, where the likes of Noel Coward and Somerset Maugham took their tea.

It occurs to me that this year I have been stalking Noel Coward. Through an unexpected series of filial obligations I have found myself in both Capri and Bangkok in the same year. (I know, how sad for me...)

Odder still, in both places I visited the homes of prominent expat-homos who frequently entertained Noel. (To clarify, they weren’t entertaining me; lest I give the wrong impression both expat-homos are long since dead, and their houses are now museums.)

I knew I’d be soaked in sweat by the time I walked back to my hotel to change. I bought a linen shirt from one of the vendors at Wat Arun, figuring I could change into it at the Oriental’s dock. The woman wanted 200 bhat. ($5.46 US), but when I mangled a few words in Thai she obligingly dropped the price to 150 bhat ($4.10 US.) Sold!

I arrive at the Oriental by Chao Phraya riverboat which disembarks at the public dock next to the hotel. I pass through a fetid alley full of caged live poultry and lizards, which makes for a surreal contrast to the swanky lizards staying next door. I struggle to pull the too small, button-less linen shirt over my head without staining it too much with sweat and dust.

As I pass the guardhouse to enter the hotel my heart sinks. A tasteful placard reads – “No Sandals or Bush Jackets Allowed.” What bit of weird stiff upper lip Britishness is this? No Sandals? It’s 98 degrees fer Chrissake! I gaze down at my grimy feet, and engage in a peculiarly odd bit of denial in which I convince myself that Birkenstocks aren’t really sandals. That piece of mental gymnastics complete, I forge brazenly ahead.

The Author’s Lounge is a glassed in fantasia of white wicker, potted palms and Victoriana. I think of my Mom, telling me to eschew white wicker furniture on the porch lest my home be mistaken for a nail salon. I laugh when I realize that this is the exact Victorian-tropical elegance that all those salons are aping….

I imagine that the beautiful hostess glances downward at my grimy feet, though she doesn't. She escorts me around the corner to a table well out of sight of the main room. I am verging on miffed, and perhaps more so when I realize I’ve been ghettoized; this is clearly homo – corner.

The table across from me is occupied by a pair of haughty French queens, both immaculately attired in freshly ironed polo shirts, with matching tropic-weight cotton sweaters tied around their shoulders. (Oh, puhleeze Mary!) Their shoes are obviously très cher. The blonde one gives me the once over. His lip curls when he spies my footgear. I nod hello and he ignores me, turning to his partner and shrugging distainfully, as if to say – “Americans, always under dressing for all the wrong reasons.”

Next to them is single British gentlemen, straight, but British and alone, and therefore highly suspect. He is wearing sensible brown suede track shoes, not elegant, but definitely not sandals.

I console myself with the realization that I am seated at the door of the hotel’s library, done up in Writers on safari photos. (Hemmingway, natch!) I muse that at least Noel would have been seated in homo – corner as well. (At least until he became the darling of the West End, and thus earned better billing.)



I order a pot of “The Oriental” tea, and the “Old Siam Tea Set”, which is a high tea with a distinctly “Anna and the King” flavor. Mango tarts, Sticky Rice Cakes, and delicious curried chicken salad, as well as the requisite cucumber sandwiches. The tea set is accompanied by “The Oriental Blend” – a tea created especially for the Hotel by the East India Company. It’s all too British Raj for words, which is a bit weird since Thailand is the only Southeast Asia county which was never colonized by anybody. I’m all for fantasy so I go with it.



I give one more go at being friendly with the French boys, but the taller one just prissily crosses his feet at the ankle and pointedly admires his footwear, while the short one ignores me. So much for improved Franco – American relations. While I wait for my tea a parade of Americans in Sandals passes through on their way to the pool, and I feel simultaneously vindicated and a bit embarrassed. Moments later the Gendarmes Du Fashion sign their check and leave.

Much to my amazement the hostess returns with a trio of high glam Thai ladyboys, who are ensconced where the French boys sat. The tallest one looks like a cross between Ralph Cruz and Imelda Marcos, and keeps his BIG Jackie-O dark glasses on throughout tea. They are much friendlier, and though we can only exchange a few words I do discern that they are effusively using “Ka” for each other – a Thai pronoun which in this context loosely translates as“the speaker is a lady, and expects to be treated as such.” Interspersed among their Thai banter are the words “Fabulous”, and “O La La”, no doubt in deference to the tables' previous occupants.

I don’t understand that much of their words, but I quickly realize that “dish” is a nearly universal language, and I am able to smile in all the right places, which tickles them no end.

Plus, they don’t even glance at my shoes…

What's Bangkok Like?

Somebody asked me on the phone yesterday what Bangkok was like.

This mailbox says it pretty well - there's Bangkok, and then there's other places...

Errata Dept - cross cultural mis-under-estimation.

Classic Thai-glish phrase spotted on the website for a resort hotel in Phuket:

"Landscape in secret garden bring you to maximum relaxation pressure."

I thought bringing you to maximum relaxation pressure was what all those girls in the Patapong night market in Bangkok were about?

Or maybe Mr. Bush wrote their promo materials...

Bangkok's New Suvarnabhumi Airport

I am a BIG aviation buff. I typically arrive at the airport two to three hours before my flight, partly because I am descended from my paternal grandmother, (she worried) and partly because I just love airports. Thusly, I was thrilled to be arriving in Bangkok a mere ten days after the opening of the brand spankin’ new Suvarnabhumi Airport. (For those of you not up on your East Asian news, Suvarnabhumi is the biggest & newest single building commercial aviation terminal in the world.)

I had been watching the press reports of problems with Suvarnabhumi with mixed feelings – cracked runways, creepily isolated woman’s restrooms, and major baggage handling problems. These are the same sort of things that plagued DIA when it opened.

“Cut the folks a break” I mused, opening the single largest transit terminal building in the world can’t be trouble free.

I want to preface this with a cautionary note. This post is not in any way a reflection on the Thai people. They are perhaps the most hospitable and charming people on the planet. That said, the new airport is a friggin’ mess. The Thai airport staff reflect a deep mortification – what was to be the pride of Thailand is, so far, a disaster. They are now discussing delaying the “official” opening (at which the beloved King presides, so as not to taint his Majesty with the problems.) Suvarnabhumi is beautiful, spectacular even, but is missing such obvious accouterments as chairs, to say nothing of toilets.

This airport cost nearly 4 billion US dollars. I am therfore somewhat stunned to find that there is nowhere to wait for your plane. The gates are sealed off from all airport facilities behind individual security checks. On paper this sounds good, as it tightly controls access to the planes, but it means that the entire terminal area is exposed to any hijinks that anyone may wish to perpetrate. (This in a country plagued by a brutal Muslim insurgency, given to blowing up Buddhist schools full of five year olds because at 3% of the population they can’t win elections.)

My flight time is two hours away, the gate has yet to be posted, and there is not a single chair in the airport! The lack of waiting areas has forced people to improvise seats out of decorative planters and suitcases. I half expect to see tent cites springing up like mushrooms by the check in counters.

As I listen to a German tourist bellowing behind me, I reflect that it was probably a German architect who designed this place. It is eerily beautiful, a bauhaus-esque machine for flying, yet totally unusable for any human purpose. Since the WiFi is unlocked and free, a few mouse click reveals this to be true – a man named Werner Sobek of Stuttgart, Germany designed this mess.

What is it with architects and designers that they become so enamored of their design concept that they forget people have to use the spaces they create?

The Wedding Banquet

Most of my friends know that this trip to Asia is centered around a wedding reception for my Brother and his Wife. (They were married last spring in New York, where they live. This reception was for her Father, family and friends back home in Taiwan.)

In the photo, my Brother and his Wife enter the banquet hall amid a cloud of steam. (Not dry ice smoke, but steam, presumably to ensure wrinke free garments.)

I know you're waiting with baited breath for the Banquet Menu -

It was -

Appetizers including Braised Pork Tendon, Dried Shrimp, Crispy Walnuts, Salted Peanuts and Fava beans, and unidentifiable sticky things.

and then seven more courses, plated as follows -

Roast Suckling Pig, Dried Mullet Caviar on Daikon-ish squares, Jellyfish Salad, Tuna Sushi and Bean Curd Rolls (not like egg rolls, but wrinkly bean curd skin like in western Honshu in Japan rolled up in a sauce.)

Fried Rice Dumplings (These had a soft texture like moochi balls, the rice must be ground into a powder) rolled in peanut dust.) YUM!

Steamed Sharksfin soup with Hasma Crabmeat. Very delicious, but extremely rich and a tad gelatinous for western tastes.

Braised abalone with black mushrooms in oyster sauce. Very good, and a special thrill since harvesting Abalone is illegal at home.

Cracked lobster (more like GIANT crabs) with scallions and fish sauce. Tragically, this got cold as we made our introductions.

Steamed Star Garoupa (a tender whitefish, steamed whole but plated in chunks.) This was subtly accented with Yunnan Ham, Bean Curd and red dates on a mess o’ braised lotus leaf. (Incredibly good!)

Baked Seafood (shrimp, fish, unidentifiable oceanic creatures) in a thai-ish curry fried rice.

The banquet finished with a tripartite dessert, including something that I can only describe as a pomegranate cobbler, (Indescribably good!) Cherry ice cream, and an orange infused flannish - custard.

It took nearly five hours, including synchronized dancing waiters bearing flaming trays into the dining room to the Vangelis "Chariots of Fire" theme, smoke effects, lighting cues, columns of fire, slide shows (film noir-ish Shanghai private eye wedding photos, with my Brother’s Wife looking like a much sexier Mother Gin Sling and honorable Brother looking mortified.) There were also three bride / groom costume changes. Again, shy and honorable Brother looking simultaneously tickled pink and completely mortified.

I am told that the reception drew on Taiwanese weddign tradition, but mixed in western elements. (Like an enourmous plaster wedding cake on the platform, and the white dresses etc. A lot of the razzle-dazzle is stuff that is currently popular in Taiwan.

During dinner, we were escorted around the room and introduced individually to the 300 guests, toasting with each of them. The amazing thing is, this event was about half the size of some banquets.

Taipei, Republic of China (Taiwan)

Taipei was a surprise to me – bustling, (expected) sophisticated, (less expected) and filled with incredibly friendly and welcoming people. After the serene order of Japan, the cheery chaos and omnipresent laughter of Taiwan was a refreshing change.

I am here for my Brother’s wedding reception. Our hotel is downtown near City Hall and directly across the street from Taipei 101, the world’s tallest building. I am a tad ashamed to admit my own ethnocentrism; I thought the tallest building was the Sears tower in Chicago. (Actually it depends on how you define “tallest”, but that is another story altogether.)

The neighborhood where we are staying is bustling with restaurants, shops and theatres, interspersed with peculiarly staid and massive 1960’s chinosierie buildings honoring Chang Kai Shek. The lower floors of Taipei 101 contain the most upscale shopping center I’ve ever been in. (I live in Los Angeles, the American epicenter of the faux urban experience known as the shopping mall, so that’s saying something.)

The food court at Taipei 101 belies our image of “food court” – a breathtakingly international bounty of food is available here. I know that later Yueh Ling and her friends will take us to the night markets for some authentic Taiwanese specialties, so I go easy here. I blanch a bit at the thought of some of the food I suspect will be on offer, and time proves this instinct correct. Pig blood rice cake, steaming bowls of pig intestine, whole duck heads and “stinky tofu” which is so pungent that your eyes water at five feet.

Boarding with the Borg

A lot was made in our lectures here about the Japanese socio-cultural identity favoring the group over the individual. The Japanese are raised to favor how their actions affect the group (my school, my company, my fellow passengers etc.) over thier individual needs. I have to say it's true based on my observations.

The way I saw this most clearly was in Boarding with the Borg. Flying down to Okinawa, (Doesn't that sound like an Andrews Sisters song?) I was a bit concerned as the flight had yet to board at fifteen minutes before departure. At ten minutes to departure the announcement that boarding would begin was made. The ground crew bowed three time at the waiting passengers. (Who were waiting patiently in their seats rather than clamoring at the gate as the zone five grannies from Dubuque, Iowa do in the US.)

The Japanese passengers stood, and in one smooth and amazingly rapid process flowed on board in an orderly stream and took their seats. No one stopped in the aisle to rearrange their bags, tried to change seats, or even stood in the aisle to grab thier paperback while stowing luggage.

The entire Boeing 767-400 (that's a really big plane - some 350 passengers when outfitted for Japan) was loaded, bags stowed, seat-belted and taxiing out early in under eight minutes.
It was truly stunning to me as an aircraft that size typically take 30-45 minutes to board in the US even with the flight crew pleading with people to speed it up. In the US passengers would be encamped in the aisles while they repacked thier bags, gate crashing outside thier zones, spilling thier McDonalds Mega-Huge beverages etc.

We could take a lesson from the Japanese on this one!

The view of Mr Fuji over the plane's wing.

Sayonara Japan!

Goodbye to Japan.

We flew last night to Okinawa, on our way to Taipei, Taiwan. Which was a spectacular flight - clear as a bell, so we could see Mt Fuji.

Okinawa airport was festooned with orchids - thousands of them everywhere. it was a little surreal, as I don't generally think of Japan as including tropical islands!

Then on to Taipei, on China Airlines.

Retro Sumo Wrestler Trading Cards

Ok - no big commentary here. These Retro Sumo Wrestler Trading Cards are just cool. - Will

The (really) big Buddha of Nara

Ok, you've all heard superlatives when traveling. The biggest, best, oldest, tallest, best-est, oldest made of sheep cartilage etc. This one - Todai-Ji Temple at Nara, really is two of those things.

Todai-Ji is both the largest, and oldest wooden building in the world. It’s really, really big. As if that wasn't enough, the temple contains the biggest (old) bronze Buddha statue in the world. (There is a bigger bronze Buddha in Hong Kong, but it is modern.)

The temple is surrounded by a vast park, known for its deer - who are said to be holy messengers. Holy and hungry, as it turns out. The deer have grown accustomed to the crowds that UNESCO World Heritage status brings. As outward and visible proof of their holiness, they have figured out how to badger food from the pilgrims by bowing. (It’s a bit more like the equine head nod that horses do, but I make it a point not to quibble with deer.)

Outside the temple dozens of school kids madly fan the censure with their cheery red hats. They fan the incense smoke over their heads to invite Buddha’s blessing and make them smarter. Have you ever seen American school kids engaged in a playful ritual to make them smarter?

I was expecting a really big Buddha, and the Buddha of Todai-ji didn’t disappoint. This was Indiana Jones & the Temple of Doom big. I wasn't expecting the totally breathtaking scale, nor the Buddha’s otherworldly beauty. The picture doesn’t begin convey the scale of this place. The Buddha's thumb is as big as I am. Ten men can stand on his palm. The lotus flower seen frame right in the picture is three stories tall. Those candles on the alter? Two times the size of a full grown man.

Of everything I’ve seen in Japan this place struck me the most deeply. Beautiful and holy, exotic and spectacular – it was everything I came to the East to see. The peace of the temple is so deep – it rendered the throngs of visitors invisible to me.

“The Loach Scooping Dance”

Sakai – Ko & Matsue

In one of the more interesting manifestations of Japanese culture I’ve seen here I just witnessed an updated “loach scooping dance.” A loach is a small paddy and mud dwelling fish, traditionally scooped up in baskets which filter the mud and silt out and leave the fishes. The particular performer updated the traditional dance and added a twist by conjuring live loaches and eels during the act. It was pretty impressive – as a live eel is a lot more slithery to keep up your sleeve than a dove…

PS: The dance also featured a segment on the “plucking of the leeches” in which the conjurer / dancer removed leeches from his legs. Thankfully I’d already had breakfast…

Miyajima Island, the Shrine of Itsukushima-Jinja and the floating Torrii Gate

Miyajima Island is the most beautiful place I've seen thus far in Japan. (Though it seems I say that each day here...)

The entire shrine is built up on piers over the bay. (Or over the mud if you are there at low tide.) Fortuitously, I was there on a full moon high tide, and the water lapped gently just below the decking. Even more fortuitously, and completely by accident, the Dalai Lama was doing a blessing at the Buddhist temple just up the hill. The monks at the shrine were all engaged in building offertory alters of evergreen boughs and performing ritual purifications as I wandered about.

Miyajima island was considered so sacred that commoners were not allowed to touch its shores. The entire temple is suspended on piers, floating over the bay. The shrine was built in the 6th century, and remodeled in 1168. Pilgrims enter the shrine through the famous “floating” torrii gate. (A torrii is the characteristic gate that always fronts a Shinto shrine. The act of entering through the gate purifies the visitor so that they may proceed to the alter(s) to make their prayers. Nowadays most visitors arrive by commercial ferry, so they have built another torrii gate over the road from the ferry terminal.

This gate is listed by the Japanese government as one if the three best views in Japan.

This is the most Pisces friendly place I’ve ever been. A Shinto shrine dedicated to purification suspended over a beautiful half moon shaped bay. (Did I mention that the roads surrounding the shrine are all jammed with vendors selling grilled oysters?) I was in fish heaven. (The foremost aquarium in southern Japan is right next door to boot, but alas I didn’t have time.)

The shrine itself is a gently meandering series of piers with various alters spread throughout. There are washing stations where you ritually wash before making a prayer or buying a fortune. (Shinto practitioners buy fortunes after making a prayer to see if the prayer will be answered.)

The Shrine’s sightlines are all oriented toward the famous “floating” Torrii gate (pictured) through which latter day pilgrims arrived. The main alter is aligned perfectly to the gate and offers a spectacular view out over the bay.

On your way back to the ferry don’t forget to have some grilled oysters!

Tsukiji Fish Market in Tokyo

Today I woke up at 4:30 am to go to the Tsukiji Wholesale Fish Market in Tokyo. I shop in the wholesale markets in downtown LA fairly often, so I was expecting that this would be somewhat familiar.

Though generically similar, this was a whole different animal. (A different Sea Monster, to be more specific.) Giant squid, sea anemones, urchins, and more varieties of clams and scallops than I knew existed. Thousands of varieties of finfish and shellfish arrayed on slabs and in Styrofoam holding tanks, the hall nearly as big as an American football field.

I thought I would be able find Tsukiji by smell from the subway, but I was wrong. I had forgotten the Japanese fetish for cleanliness. Literally thousands of tons of fish move through this place daily, yet it smelled clean and fresh, oceanic in the way that a perfect oyster tastes. Instead I just followed the folks in rubber boots, and that instinct took me directly to the market. I didn't take a lot of photos of the fish themselves, because to photograph them felt like pornography. The array was so sensual it forbade the camera's crude exploitation.

What I was most unprepared for was the frenzy of the marketplace. This place is, quite simply, the agora that the term agoraphobia could have been coined for. A cacophony of whistles shrill as carts and wheelbarrows of fish are sprinted headlong from the auctions to the waiting restaurant supply trucks. The cult of freshness reaches its apogee here. In the main crossroads of the delivery area a traffic cop does a balletic pantomime, punctuated by shrill whistles, conducting the madness with meditative precision.

As a visitor, you have to remain constantly alert to avoid being run over. A single moment's inattention could prove fatal. In the midst of the maelstrom, the intense politeness of the Japanese belies the frenzy. Speedy bows and quick nods are doled out as you dance around the onslaught.

If you ever visit Tokyo, this is an experience not to be missed. (That and the bonus of unbelievably fresh breakfast sushi, only minutes removed from the fleet.)

Read more about the market in Tsukiji: The Fish Market at the Center of the World.

Enroute to Tokyo (A little politeness goes a long way..)

I'm on my way to Tokyo, aboard Korean Airlines Flight 002. I am delighted by the spectacularly good food. "Sushi on a Plane" seem a much better call than the "Snakes on a Plane" movie... (Also a delicious Korean bibimbob , with a toothpaste tube of fiery chili paste on the side!)

It's rumored that politeness goes a long way in Asia, and I quickly find it to be true, even when inadvertent.

After boarding, I got settled into my seat. Just as the chef Steward emerged from behind the curtain, I dropped my glasses and leaned down to pick them up, the gesture of an extravagant bow. Somewhat startled, but obviouly pleased, he immediately returned my deep though inadvertent bow.

From that point on I was the flight crews darling, a polite barbarian in their midst.

I remember being on a California bound flight several years earlier. A Japanese man was returning from the rest room when he encountered a very old gaijin (Caucasian - barbarian - redneck) lady. He bowed deeply, profoundly respectful of her age and experience. She nodded back with impatience. Since she returned the "bow" he bowed again, even more deeply. This exchange continued for several more bows, each more elaborate and deep than the last. She nodded back, more curtly each time. (I suspected her depends undergarments were at the end of their natural life.) He bowed even more reverently, and she finally snorted in disgust and shouldered her way past him, leaving him stunned in her wake.

This seems a profound metaphor for International relations, how easily we can inadvertantly offend in "misunderestimating" (sic) the motives of others. Let's hope greater care is taken in entering the hornet's nest of negotiation around the North Korean nuclear quesion. (or nukular as our oh so gaijin leader would have it...)

USATODAY.com - Page scandal exposes GOP's gay identity crisis

USATODAY.com - Page scandal exposes GOP's gay identity crisis: "Page scandal exposes GOP's gay identity crisis"

What has been missing from the discussions in the media of the Mark Foley scandal is actually the central fact of the matter. Many of Foley's problems are not related to his being Gay, but rather to his being Republican.

"If wishes were horses then elephants would ride department" Notice that Fox News mis-labeled Foley a Democrat on the O'Reilly factor, screenshot at the left. Fair and balanced, n'est pas?)

Foley's alcoholism and totally inappropriate sexual behavior are a direct result of the repression of sexuality in our culture. The war on sexuality is the Republican's stock in trade.

The fact that his fellow Republicans routinely engage in baiting of gay issues creates a climate of shame. There are thousands of gay people in the Republican party (why I'll never know.) They live in a climate of self-hatred that is reinforced by their party's exploitive gay bashing agenda. They are, to an individual, the most miserable people I know.

Think of it this way - take a hose and turn it on full blast. Now try to stop the water flow with your hands. The harder you bear down the greater the pressure becomes. As you stop the flow in one place, the water spurts out somewhere else. Sexuality (of all kinds) operates this way - the more you try to suppress it - the more is flows out somewhere else. Mark Foley's inappropriate behavior is a direct result of a lifetime spent hiding and hating himself. His exploitation of those younger and less powerful is repulsive, but totally in keeping with the hypocrisy of his party.

I know hundreds of well adjusted, productive members of society who happen to be gay. The overarching characteristic we share is an adjustment to our sexuality that is open, freely expressed in healthy ways, and not closeted and hidden in shame.

USATODAY.com - Overseas voting a concern again

USATODAY.com - Overseas voting a concern again: "Six years after problems counting overseas votes clouded the 2000 presidential election, U.S. troops and other Americans abroad face tight timetables and emerging technologies that still make it difficult to have their votes counted."

The article goes on to discuss tight timelines in absentee balloting making it difficult to qualify. My experience bears this out. I will be overseas during the election this year. Obviously I consider this to be a VERY important race.

California won't accept my absentee ballot application until October 9th - just 30 days before the election. Knowing the mind-boggling ineffeciency of Los Angeles city government, I have grave doubts that they will return my ballot to me before I leave the country on the 26th.

Imagine how much worse it is for those stationed overseas, who can't walk into the local dept of elections office with thier application in hand.

Evolution Major Vanishes From Approved Federal List - New York Times

Evolution Major Vanishes From Approved Federal List - New York Times:

Can you believe this? Given the Bush regime's penchent for ignoring both due process and the law, we're supposed to believe that the removal of Evolutionary Science as an approved college major for students on government grants is an "accident?"

You know, Gravity is just a theory too. Maybe they'll get to work at repealing that next.

Bush trims this year's Texas stay to 10 days. Good thing nothing important is going on ...

USATODAY.com - Bush trims this year's Texas stay to 10 days: "'Last summer, he was not seen as being on top of the job,' says Merle Black, a political scientist at Emory University in Atlanta. 'He doesn't want to be seen taking a whole month off right now. It doesn't look good.'"

In DC, it's all about how it looks right?

This may be a cheap shot, but "last summer he was seen as not being on top of the job? Just last summer? Is anyone paying attention?

Memo to the White House - the entire Middle East is melting down. Oh, I forgot - they have a fax machine in Crawford. That was part of what the President helpfully told us when he said the American people "don't understand the definition of work."

(You may remember that comment came when he was asked about his month long vacation in 2001 during which he ignored the intelligence reports about the impending 9/11 attacks.)

I really don't have to say any more on this one - it speaks for itself...

Mel Gibson's Drunken Anti-Semitic Tirade.

Chalk it up to the tequila...

When arrested last weekend for drunken driving,* Mel Gibson, director of the jolly gorefest "Passion of the Christ" allegedly burst out in an anti Semitic rant. (Apropos of what? One wonders...)

He also allegedly verbally harassed the arresting officers. The LA County Sheriff's Dept. is believed to have expunged the description of the tirade from the arrest report.

Mel Gibson's anti-Semitic outburst was 'covered up' - World - Times Online: "the arresting officer'’s original report said: "“Gibson blurted out anti-Semitic remarks about "‘f***ing Jews"’ [and] yelled out "‘The Jews are responsible for all the wars in the world," then asked [the arresting officer]"‘Are you a Jew?”"

Given the ineptitude and arrogance of the appointments made by the Bush administration, I'm expecting the President to nominate Mr. Gibson as the next US Ambassador to Israel.

Is it any weirder than Stephen Johnson as EPA Administrator, or John Bolton as UN Ambassador?

Maybe Mel could take "make nice" lessons from Mr. Bolton.
________________________________________

* Clocked going 87 mph in a 40 zone with an open bottle of tequila on the rear seat. Oy!

The Faboo Refugee, or "we might miss a beach day?"

I became a refugee this week, albeit briefly, and with the full resources of Provincetown, Massachusetts at my disposal. (Espresso, Art Films, and T-shirt shops out the wazoo.)

Perhaps I should explain.

I'm spending a few weeks on a small island off the coast of Massachusetts. It's off the grid, so power is supplied by a generator. I bring everything I need across the channel in an 18" outboard.

It's spectacularly beautiful, but the channel becomes impassable in even moderate blows. So when tropical storm Beryl headed our way I decided to go ashore for the night. (I am a little gun shy of storms after losing my beloved dog Lucky to a seizure during a similar storm on the island last fall.)

So I fled, hurriedly packing a few modest effects and beating a hasty retreat to Provincetown. It was funny to me that when I mentioned the storm everyone there responded "what storm?" By and large, urban folks are so out of touch with the weather. When told a tropical storm was on track to the Cape most folks responded "We might miss a beach day?"

Now I am fully aware that this exodus hardly qualifies me for UN refugee status. On the scale of human suffering, breakfasting alfresco on Crepes Forestieré and Cappuchino ranks not one iota.

We in America are so divorced from the suffering caused by natural events, and especially by wars. It takes something on our own shores like Katrina to wake us up. How quickly those of us not on the Gulf coast have forgetten.

This is especially tragic given the blinkered worldview of our administration. Now more than ever, we are strangely divorced from the suffering our actions cause worldwide as well. (See my next post on Lebanon.)

Urban Wildlife Part 26

Yesterday I was riding the # 2 bus through Hollywood and spied a truly stellar bit of urban wildlife.

At Sunset and Crescent Heights, a demurely outfitted transvestite boarded the bus. Despite her wildly unkempt wig, she was conservatively attired in an immaculately pressed suit / skirt combo. The styling would have made Nancy Reagan proud, though the dress was in lavender, not red. I mused that Nancy would have probably skipped the lacy white cuffs, as they tend to drag in one's soup.

So far this is an everyday event in Hollywood, so common as to not even attract glances from the other passengers.

The "wildlife" part was created by her accessories. (As Diana Vreeland sagely noted - it's the accessories that make the ensemble.)

Her dress was accented by a frowzy eared stuffed bunny, peeking its grimy head out of the buttons in her cleavage. The bunny was wearing an old fashioned head-wrap, as you might see in Ub Iwerks cartoons for the treatment of toothache. The bunny faced her, as if whispering private advice as she moved though her day. (A Harvey for the 21st century?)

The whole ensemble was perfectly topped off by her reading material, a dog eared copy of the Book of Mormon.

She slipped off the bus as demurely as she had gotten on, at Sunset and Vine, as befits a star.

How I love Hollywood!

- Will.

The Most Irritating Saint in Christendom?

I'm returning from Italy, where I visited San Gimignano, the home of Santa Fina. One hagiographer has called Santa Fina "The Most Irritating Saint in all Christendom."

Santa Fina accepted the gift of an orange from a young man in her village, and was scolded by her mother for her wickedness. Overcome with regret, young Fina flung herself upon the kitchen table and spent the next five years praying for forgiveness, until she died. Upon her death, the table and the many towers of San Gimignano burst into bloom with violets.
Hmmm, amazing how many of the Saint's lives seem to primarily underscore a fear of sexuality.

If you visit the Duomo in San Gimignano, be sure to check out the horrific last judgement frescos - a masterpiece in the "fear of sexuality" genre.

Despite this sad tale, I beg to differ. I think the title "most irritating saint" has to go to St Triduana of Scotland - who gouged out her own eyes when a young man admired them. She then presented them to him, skewered on thorns.

Yuk!

A stream near St Triduana's burial site is said to restore sight to the blind...

The Undead of the Carolinas

I just spent a week at the beach with the family in NC. On passing through the airport at Myrtle Beach (SC) I am struck by the need for a memo to the good women of the Carolinas.

To wit - it is highly recommended that redheads, blondes and others of Scotch - Irish descent entirely eschew black eye makeup.

Black eyeliner is best left to raven haired beauties, the undead, 16 year old goth chicks, and the New York Dolls. (in that order...)

BBC NEWS | World | Americas | 'Ethics training' for US troops

BBC NEWS | World | Americas | 'Ethics training' for US troops:

"As military professionals, it is important that we take time to reflect on the values that separate us from our enemies."

- Lieutenant-General Peter Chiarelli, commander of Multinational Corps Iraq, commenting on the US Military's new ethics training initiatives.

Part of the problem is that the distinction of who the enemy is has been blurred from the onset at the very highest levels of government. The Vice President's deliberate slight of hand in tarring Saddam Hussein with the 9/11 brush has led to confusion at the rank and file levels of the military and among the citizenry.

I've met thoughtful, educated officers who understand the geopolitical complexities of the region and have a clear idea of the mission. But there are also a lot of 19 and 20 year olds, jacked up on heavy metal and Hannity and Colmes who equate being Muslim with being a terrorist. Add to that the daily stress of being a soldier engaged in the occupation and you have a recipe for disaster.

The reductivist television media doesn't help. In addition to ethics training for the military - I think we need Ethics in Government, Civics and Journalism training for the American public as well.