Los Angeles Dispatch

Elise has a charming Arts and Crafts style bungalow she moved into last May. It is near East Hollywood. The most stunning decorative detail is, of course, Elise’s cat – the “It Girl” Fluffer…always ready for her close-up!

It must have been a warm day.

Rebel Without a Cause

The highlight of our brief stay with Elise before heading off to Mexico for the holidays was our hike to the Griffith Observatory – a place frozen in two times: its beautiful deco origins and its role in the 1955 film, “Rebel Without a Cause.” There were several exterior and interior scenes featuring James Dean, Natalie Wood and Sal Mineo.

The trail up offers a lovely view of the city, but the Deco details steal the show at this place, along with the bust of James Dean. We were actually there on December 21, 2012 and, as duly noted over the door, we’re here to tell it!

Pendulum

                                        

 

 

 

James Dean tragically died in a car crash just a month before the film was released, so he too became frozen in time as the icon of mid-20th century alienated youth.

 

 

 

 

After Mexico, I returned to L.A. to stay with Elise while Newton embarked on the business portion of the trip. Elise and I had such a memorable week!

 

The Beatles

Not only did I obsess about the Beatles from age 14 on, but my kids became utterly devoted fans around the ages of seven and nine. They eventually read every available biography and became walking Beatles encyclopedias. It seemed only fitting to get tickets to the London stage production of “Backbeat” that was currently playing in L.A. The plan was soundly reinforced when I found two tickets online for $40 each instead of $150. “Backbeat” is a musical staging of the 1994 film of the same name, which depicts the Beatles’ early trial-by-fire in a club in the red light district of Hamburg, Germany. Newton had to make an edited version in the ‘90’s for Elise and Jake to watch, they were so young, but I remembered how much we all loved the film. It is about the teenaged ‘Quarrymen’ evolving into the Beatles with the help of the bohemian German photographer, Astrid Kirchherr and her cohorts. She fell in love with John Lennon’s friend, Stuart Sutcliffe – a lovely guy who just wanted to be a painter, but whom John convinced to play bass guitar for the group. He died in 1962. Pete Best was the drummer in Hamburg; Ringo had not yet replaced him. Astrid’s German boyfriend had the ‘mop top’ hairdo that the Beatles eventually copied, but her early photographs of the group at this time – this is one of hers - document their early classic rock-n-roll looks. George finally got deported when the German authorities discovered he was not even eighteen!

                                    “Nowhere Boy”

Serendipitously, the night before the Sunday matinee, Elise suggested we choose a movie off the (rather pathetic) Netflix list. She thought I’d like “Nowhere Boy,” a 2009 British film about John Lennon’s adolescence with his Aunt Mimi. He was finally getting to know his somewhat unstable but vibrant mother. Elise still lived in New York when it came out and had covered the premiere as a videographer. Yoko Ono, speaking at the premiere, vouched for the details of the story and her consultation on the film. It is beautifully made, very poignant. At the end of the movie, after John’s mother has tragically died in a car accident, he announces to his Aunt Mimi that his rock-n-roll group, The Quarrymen, are going to Hamburg to play in a club. So the theater production the following day took up right where the film left off. At the end of the musical, the players broke into “Love Me Do” and then “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” – marking the very point at which I joined the story in 1964!

ART

This was my third visit to L.A. since Elise moved there. I was bound and determined to finally visit a museum. We decided on LACMA: Los Angeles County Museum of Art. The Met or the Modern in New York it is not, but it is certainly wonderful in countless ways. I appreciated seeing works by major artists that I had never seen before, for example. The physical space itself also offers its own joys. I would say I love museums, but I love any museum with Elise best of all! We have a history that goes all the way back to her first trip to the Met in New York at three months old – the Van Gogh exhibit. A favorite memory is taking Elise, 4, and Jake, 2, to the Met for the first time after we moved back from Japan. After absolutely loving everything inside, we sat on the outside steps and watched a mime performing…pulling a bus away from the stop, etc. He soon noticed Elise and Jake on the lowest step in front and called them to join the act. The crowd oohed and aahed, and Elise carried herself as if a star on one of the red carpets she now covers professionally!

Picasso; Lichtenstein, Mondrian, Warhol, of course:

 

 

 

 

 

 

We were enchanted by the glowing street lamp installation in front of the museum.

     

Out and About 

My daytime exploits involved quite a long shopping list of gifts and items to schlep to the third world. I had to get new reading/computer glasses, as my Nordestino attempt had left the right side of every page and screen blurry. I needed upholstery fabric for our living room, so drove to the perfect fabric store across town – more like a candy store for me after a long career in textiles and hopelessly limited choices where I live. (I must always qualify that glasses turn out well and there are loads of fabric choices in the South of Brazil!) I felt totally L.A. when the clerk helping me was a guy in men’s clothing with a face made up in an exaggerated womanly way, as if for the theater! A transcosmetite? I picked out gift shopping possibilities on my way over there to check out on my way back; it’s just that the bookstore I had spotted turned out to be a gay porn store. I was then directed to the elegant Grove to one of the last remaining Barnes and Noble stores, where I crossed off many gifts from my list. But even as books with covers are waning, I was pretty distraught at the near non-existence of personally owned shops along this stretch. It seems there is almost nothing for sale apart from the big chains. At least the interior décor neighborhood has one elegant gem of a store after another.

Elise and I had some outstanding dinners, my favorite being the salmon filets and asparagus she whipped up in no time in her kitchen (Newton’s genes). I was really impressed with the unique menu and excellent Spanish and Portuguese wines at ‘Red Hill.’ We went with Elise’s friend and her boyfriend, who is a wine salesman and really knows his way around! We met up with my niece April and her darling family at a sort of pretend Brazilian restaurant, where caipirinhas – the national drink of cachaça rum, fresh squeezed lime juice and sugar - come in a super-size-me glass filled mostly with 7-Up.

Star Struck

After using the car during the days, I had fun meeting up with Elise at her interesting venues. One was the red carpet premiere of a zombie movie, ‘Warm Bodies” whose cast included John Malkovich and James Franco’s brother, Dave. It was hellish getting to any area where I could find her, as the sidewalk was cordoned off and police were everywhere, but we eventually walked into each other while phoning. I felt so “with it” trying to maneuver past all the 20-year-olds craning their necks on the sidewalk! Another great spot was called ‘Sassafras’ – a bar/restaurant in the New Orleans style, complete with hanging moss. It really captures the beauty and mood of another era. I also loved meeting up at Elise’s office, the home of AOL’s Cambio teen website. Elise and four other young, darling, talented, dedicated dynamo’s run the whole thing! (The staff used to number in the dozens.)

 

 

Here is Elise with Producer Extraordinaire, Paige, after countless hours on the red carpet, and with Social Media expert, Betsy, ready to chill after a tough week:

Apart from the drudgery, the hours awaiting red carpet events, long days of shooting followed by late nights of editing the video footage, there are some perks. Elise got to shoot both the Emmy’s and the Grammy’s red carpets recently. Here are a few choice snaps from her iPhone:

Jon Hamm of “Mad Men”                     Claire Danes of “Homeland”

“The Boss,” Bruce Springsteen            A longtime heroine, Bonnie Raitt    

    

Beyoncé Knowles                              Sting

 

But there’s one beauty and talent that stands out most to me.

Thanks for a perfect week, Elise.

 

 

 

 

 

Love,

Sandy

Mexico Dispatch

The good news about our arrival in North America in mid-December was that, in spite of arriving too late in São Paulo for our connection and being re-routed through Washington, D.C. (not exactly on the way to Los Angeles), we were upgraded to business class. Ahhhhhh, that seat for overnight! The bad news was that when we approached the immigration officer in D.C. he enthusiastically called out to Newton, “So this is your mother!” Once Newt had corrected him, I added, “Give me a break, I just flew all night.” I keep hoping my red, teary, plane-allergy eyes and our long-stolen wedding rings could explain? This guy would have let me through with explosives strapped on, he was so embarrassed!

Everything looked up again when we saw Elise, at last. After a couple of days, the three of us drove down to Baja, Mexico, to meet up with Jake, his girlfriend Larissa and her mother, Danya, of Albany and San Diego. Jake was moving at that time from Tijuana to the town of Rosarito, where many more online poker players hang out. We had rented a beautiful condo on the ocean there for five weeks, and Elise and Danya stayed for the holiday portion. We were escaping the construction hell at our house and awaiting a California trade show for Newton in late January.

 

 

 

Oh, Christmas Tree

It can be challenging to find a good Christmas tree on December 23rd, but it turned out to be impossible in Rosarito. The last one on the lot looked like a soaked Yorkie (soaked in soggy white foam ‘snow’). We tried the Mexican Walmart (they were out of trees) and experienced something I can only call surreal, but then I am not a Walmart shopper when it’s not two days before Christmas, either. The words “crowded” and “racks of surplus” come to mind.

Giving up, we later pulled into the condo garage only to really notice for the first time a large metal sculpture of cactus that someone had deposited there. After we dragged it inside, I pulled out the colored paper, scissors and lights I had brought in lieu of ornaments. A frenzy of spirals and snowflakes ensued, and in no time we had a real Mexican Christmas tree! It was very pretty by the fire, which was absolutely necessary every evening.

 

Holidays

The six of us were especially good at going to restaurants, but I made my one signature dish – macaroni and cheese not from a box – on Christmas Eve. We were all also very good at hitting the hot tub outdoors around sunset, and very good at playing loads of games together. Jake travels with quite a stash of games, so we competed seriously through several versions of trivia; we laughed through ‘Headbandz,’ where everyone has to guess the person, place or thing written on the card on their foreheads by asking yes or no questions; we panicked through “Catch Phrase” on Jake’s cell phone, where you guess from your partner’s hints what random thing has come up, according to the category, before the increasingly rapid beeps run out. (These beeps generally coincided with heart palpitations at that point.) This was very fun at home or at beach bars until we exhausted all the good categories and had to go with ‘Words of the Dead.’ ‘Bananagrams’ crossword is always a favorite; then there was that one where you chose whether to draw, act out charades, roll letters and make a sentence, or hum - to indicate the answer. Many laughs. Oh, and there was arm wrestling.

The hot tub is hidden here; it’s on the far patio:

We drove the beautiful scenic highway south to Ensenada and the wine trail. We seemed to be the only people on the wine trail, so a man at a freezing castle-like winery opened a tiny cell, complete with iron bars, and sold us our tastings. This place below was much nicer and free from dungeon fantasies, though I wasn’t a big fan of Mexican wines; the reds seem heavy, there are few whites, and all are rather expensive. Apparently, some Russians started the vineyards in the region.

Auld Lang Syne

New Year’s Eve was mostly…just…freezing. I’m convinced it was 37˚ tops, and we went to a basically open air bar near the beach. Even just three months after freezing in Dublin, I stubbornly opted not to pack my winter coat once again. I made do with a blazer and wool scarf. Danya did pack appropriately and had to get a cab home, anyway. I toughed it out, miserable standing next to the fires they had built in table-side wheel barrows which stunk up clothing (permanently) and burned the eyes and lungs more than they warmed anyone. My one drink for the evening was a sipped shot of tequila, as everything else just sounded cold. The highlight was definitely Newton and then Jake clinging to the mechanical bull. Impressive; hilarious. Kinda sad. The gang seemed much more impervious to the cold than I and helped to jolly-up the event.

 

Mexican Extortion Story

Newton drove to Tijuana with Jake to pack up the remainder of his possessions; the other roommates had already moved out. It was only several days later that Jake discovered he had left his custom desktop computer under the table in the most beautiful high rise in Tijuana. In a panic, he called the realtor to see if the computer was still there and to arrange to pick it up. Apparently, Jake’s ‘friend’ who had held the lease had objected to this guy’s shady realtor tactics and had withheld several months of rent, unbeknownst to Jake. Now Mr. Shady wanted to recoup some of that via Jake’s computer, even though Jake had faithfully paid his share to his ‘friend.’ Now the friend said he would rather pay for Jake to get a new computer than deal with Mr. Shady Realtor any further, so Jake offered $1,000 for the realtor to allow him to go up and retrieve it. The realtor countered with $1,200. Jake said he would do the transaction only with a receipt - so there could be no pocketing of the cash which should go to the apartment’s owner.

On the appointed day, Jake, Newt, Larissa and I drove off to Tijuana to get Jake’s computer and eat in one of his favorite restaurants. The Shady Guy was surprised to see Newton there planning to go up to the flat with Jake and whispered, “Oh, just the two of us.” Newton insisted. Upstairs, Jake asked for the receipt before handing over the money, the Guy refused to give a receipt, Jake grabbed his big computer and the Realtor Guy grabbed him, Newton pushed the realtor away and Jake made it through the door, calling the realtor a crook. The script gets awkwardly funny at this point because they all three had to wait for the elevator and ride down. The Realtor kept saying he would call the police, that this was not the way “we do it in Mexico,” to which Jake and Newton happily replied, “go ahead, call the police.” Newt called Larissa and me in the lobby and said to hightail it to the car in the garage. The rendezvous at the exit gate (open, thankfully) included some sidekick thug who said we were not allowed to take anything from the apartment, a completely silent cop who would not make eye contact with anybody, the crooked realtor, who said we could never prove the computer was ours, to which Newt replied, “We could prove it in a second.” Jake was yelling from the back seat to the gate party that this guy was a con artist. It occurred to all of us in the car at about the same second that the policeman was not going to intervene for the shady guy and that the gate was open right there in front of us, so we just suddenly pulled out. Instead of enjoying a favorite Tijuana restaurant, we hit the highway and didn’t even stop in Rosarito; we sped past to a popular place…laughing, re-enacting, worrying, celebrating, with intermittent silence.

Serenity

I took advantage of our extra weeks in this peaceful place to counter the stress and personal grief caused by the construction that has been clobbering us from across the road and, even more so, on the road in front of our house. Warm sunny days made breakfast and lunch on our Mexican patio possible without the interruption of fumy delivery trucks. I could do yoga on the bedroom balcony any morning with little more than the sound of gentle ocean waves and a gorgeous view to distract me. What was missing from my pre-construction beloved routine was the more untamed experience of nature from my Brazilian balcony perch. And this precisely manicured landscaping must have been sprayed, as almost no creatures were visible anywhere apart from the wonderful gulls and fish-divers over the ocean. I came to cherish one hummingbird and the poor one-legged seagull who spent hours on the railing in the hot tub area. It’s hard to say one misses insects, but the invisible, insidious reason they were absent bothered me. Very joyous to observe were the seemingly endless, smooth rides the wet-suited surfers caught in the frigid Pacific in front of us. Some of the surfers were quite old, but then Danya and I stumbled onto some young, dashing movie-star-caliber youths peeling off their wet suits on our walk. I love beauty.

Second World

Rosarito and the surrounding area, being so close to San Diego, host many, many Americans who either have vacation houses, commute from there to work in San Diego, or live there as retirees and surfers (and online poker players). The condos are well-appointed and hardly Third World. In fact, we used our first garbage disposal and garbage compactor here, not to mention our lovely reunion with a dishwasher and a clothes dryer! Between these fancy condos along the highway is the mix of charmless local businesses, great artisan souvenir shops and quite a spate of mostly foreign-owned restaurants for the gringo clientele. We had some wonderful meals. The juxtaposition of this mammoth statue of Jesus overlooking elegant gringo mansions says it all. We wondered: if Jesus were to crash down onto the homes in a storm, would that be considered an act of God by the insurance companies?

The police are instructed, apparently, to leave the gringos alone on the highway and look the other way when gringos bar-hop with drinks-in-hand. Locals are not allowed such privilege. Of course, there are the wayward cops who prey on tourists or the clueless by stopping them on the road and devising a bribe-or-jail type scenario, but savvy gringos know what names to throw around to jeopardize the cops’ employment. Though I passed most of my time in the peaceful condo, I held on to any local flavor I found, being in Mexico and all. Best were the real taco joints and the extraordinary ceramic, glass, and metalwork sold in the artisan shops. These set Mexico apart, certainly from the Northeast of Brazil. Most of the Mexicans were truly lovely – friendly and gentle – if slightly too deferential to the rich gringos who, for certain, bring a higher standard of living to the area with their dollars.

Jake and Larissa found a great condo for the year a few minutes up the highway and moved in in early January.

Elise managed a fun long weekend visit over Martin Luther King Day. We all returned to Tijuana to take her to the border, ducking near Jake’s old apartment and having lunch at Caesar's – the birthplace of the Caesar Salad. We found their version absolutely without equal. Crossing the border is a common topic of conversation around there, as the regular car line can mean three hours of waiting (and this happened to Elise and Danya after New Year’s). Commuters carry a special pass for a faster lane, and, as Elise discovered on this second crossing, vans and special taxis are available to hasten the pedestrian experience. She rode a van all the way to Los Angeles for $25, though it was a bit duct taped-together. At the end of our stay, Newton and I found a special cab while dragging all our luggage to the pedestrian line. We were so relieved, having paid in advance, when the driver re-materialized after dropping us at the customs and immigration point. He took me to the San Diego train station and Newton to the airport. Newton was heading to Lake Tahoe to ski with his business partners ahead of their trade show, and I was off to L.A. for 6 days with my beautiful daughter. Adios, Jake and Larissa!

 

Love,

Sandy

Rome Dispatch

Newton and I met up in Athens, where we stayed at the same gorgeous location on the Aegean Sea that we always do when visiting his company’s partners there. I passed the two days in the beautiful surroundings along the water’s edge and the nearby town of Nea Makri a short bus ride away. While we had not perceived any dire evidence of hard economic times in Spain – and this was partly because we were in an area that thrives on tourism and we were traveling pristine highways that were provided by the European Union – it was pretty disconcerting to visit the Nea Makri town square. At least half of the businesses were closed up. It definitely looked and felt depressed.

We had planned a connection home through Rome so we could get a quick two-night Italian fix! We decided to stay in the Trastevere neighborhood west of the Tiber River. The ‘hotel’ was an overpriced disappointment, but life around the Piazza di San Cosimato never ceased to be lively and flavorful. We walked over a bridge and caught long afternoon shadows on the remains of Imperial Rome.


A large neighboring piazza in Trastevere provided the Felliniesque setting for our dinner. Venders were selling little lights that could be propelled right up into the night sky above the buildings, and these were flying up everywhere and descending upon the crowded Saturday night passeggiata – citizens and tourists of all ages out for the evening. Rome magic!

The next day was one serendipitous poem. Newton got a Facebook comment on his iPhone at breakfast from our Spanish friend in Natal, Carmen. She said that her favorite park in Rome is Gianicolo, overlooking the city. That turned out to be right next to us in Trastevere. The park was peaceful and beautiful and clearly making Sunday morning Romans happy.


Even better than the park’s monument to Giuseppe Garibaldi, the famed 19th century revolutionary who was instrumental in unifying Italy, is the monument to his fiery Brazilian wife, Anita. Garibaldi is also famous as a revolutionary in South America, where Anita, an accomplished horsewoman, accompanied him into battle for an attempted independent Rio Grande do Sul. Here she is escaping the surrounding Brazilian soldiers with her baby in one hand and a gun in the other. She was taken prisoner at one point and escaped again when the soldiers allowed her to search among the dead bodies for Giuseppe – whom they falsely claimed was dead. She died of malaria in Italy and is buried under this statue.

You may or may not remember that we have a food guru for Italy, Fred Plotkin. His outstanding book, Italy for the Gourmet Traveler, just opens up worlds of culinary appreciation for all regions of Italy. We had zeroed-in on a recommendation of his that turned out to be practically on the path out of Gianicolo Park!
 
Fred says: “…you should try Picolla Trattoria da Lucia, which retains the flavor of old Rome. Local wine is freshly tapped out of wooden barrels here. For pasta, order la gricia, which is a spaghetti dressed with robust olive oil mixed with lots of cheese, pepper, and pancetta (Italian bacon). This dish, a sort of eggless carbonara, was originally eaten by shepherds.”

The place is family-run. I continued my habit of sautéed chicory for every meal in Rome, along with a plate of cheeses from the Roman pantheon (the gods, not the building)! Newton was intrigued by Fred’s recommended pasta and wanted only to return for dinner and eat it again. The family, being Mediterranean and having deeply imbedded clues about how to live, forsook the additional income that would have resulted from staying open past three and serving the line-up of people waiting – and Newton again – and most likely enjoyed a beautiful Sunday evening. To die for, Fred.

We wandered back towards our hotel in a state of bliss and happened upon a fabulous little toy store in the corner of our Piazza di San Cosimato called “Citta’ del Sole.” We bought a gift for a friend’s baby, though we couldn’t resist a couple of fun gizmos for our own grown-up babies.

Later, dinner was decided upon when passing this tray of mushrooms on the street. I felt like Persephone herself eating these sautéed gifts from the underground, next to my greens, of course. We would have been happy to have stayed on in Rome indefinitely!

Love,
Sandy