A Good Thick Skirt

Cape Town

It really was a brilliant sunny day today, although the top of Table Mountain never emerged from it’s fluffy topping. I’ve seen pictures of   the top of it, but I’ve never actually seen the top…it’s quite odd actually: it’s not very high, and according to the pictures, it’s absolutely flat on top, but it usually has this great pile of clouds on top that looks like a pile of mashed potato or whipped cream.

I skipped one of the big parties this evening…I doubt if anyone would miss me in a group of 2500 or so, and decided that it would be nice to eat some fresh fish at the harbour. There’s a huge shopping complex there, hosting Gucci, Chanel and the like,  obviously not for the folks I run with.  I found a lovely restaurant overlooking the basin where I could sit outside.  Because it’s winter each table had an overhead heater under the umbrella so it was nice and cosy.

The waterfront is called the Victoria & Alfred…there are two basins; the first one was named for Alfred, the second one for his mother.  It’s shortened as V&A,  which I assumed was Victoria and Albert…I didn’t even know her son was named Alfred.  I hope she didn’t call them both Al.

There was a vicious storm here in the winter of 1858 which resulted in the wrecking of 30 ships and innumerable deaths, which caused Lloyd’s of London to declare that they would no longer insure ships in the harbour.  Eventually the breakwater was built making it safe year round – reputedly the first stone was cast by Alfred.  Nice to know that your insurance company will stand behind you… It’s about 200 km north of Cape Agulhas, the southern tip of South Africa – strangely the Cape of Good Hope is about 150 km north of Cape Agulhas.  Because of the storms here, sailors originally believed that it was the place where the Atlantic Ocean met the Pacific Ocean.  Rumour has it that the Phoenicians sailed around here before the Portuguese claimed they were first in the late 1400s.  Whoever it was, it was a pretty remarkable bit of sailing.

So I’m eating dinner and eavesdropping on the young couple at the next table telling their parents about a wedding they had just been to.  They were explaining how the newly weds had negotiated Christmas with both sets of parents.  The most fascinating part was they had agreed to do something like a draw, so each person had to only buy one present.  To keep it all manageable in a big family,  they had decided to limit it to only small presents, such as a bottle of Krug, or 6 crystal wine glasses, either of which, by my estimate, is about $250.  I guess the definition of a “small present” is highly contextual.

This one is way out of order…I just realized that I had forgotten to post it on my last day in SF.

San Francisco

Our last day before heading for home.  We just had time for a cable car ride before it was time to do.  The last time I was in SF, all of the cable cars had advertising for Rice-a-Roni (the San Francisco treat), and this time I didn’t see any.  Upon reflection, I wonder if the stuff even exists any more, and if it does, if anyone would admit to eating it.  The cable car must have seemed like an incredible improved over having horses drag wagons up and down those hills; it is said that the motivation for inventing it was a horrible accident in which a horse fell.

While SF would be a beautiful city to live in, in many way, I find it to be a city of uncomfortable contrasts.  The weather is lovely, and so many plants grow easily here that it would be a great place to garden.  The architecture is very interesting as the climate allows for much more innovation than we are used to.  I find the number of apparently mentally ill people on the street very depressing, also the large number of people sleeping on the street.  We saw a man hitting himself in the head and yelling, “fuck, fuck”, and a woman stamping on the sidewalk and yelling, trying to kill something that only she could see.  I don’t know what the solution is, but there must be a better way to keep people safe.

I woke up this morning to discover that it wasn’t raining!  This meant that I could walk to they conference centre and offset some of the breakfast that I have been eating.  Encouraged, I set off without my umbrella, only to have it start raining when I was about halfway between here and my destination.  Oh well, I’m not made of sugar and I don’t melt in the rain.

We dutifully assembled at the meeting place to catch the bus to our meeting location – being librarians and generally compliant, we were all about 10 minutes early.  The only thing was, the bus wasn’t.  After many phone calls, it turned out that the bus company “forgot” to send the bus.  Fortunately there was an overhang on the building so we were out of the rain, and a bus appeared about 30 minutes late, which meant that we arrived at our destination in time for tea.  The organizers then stuck to the original schedule, but ran everything half an hour later.  For Canadians, this was reminiscent of the joke, “The world will end at 10 tonight, 10:30 in Newfoundland”, although I realized today that this will now apply to Korea and North Korea as well.

The sun emerged at lunch time for long enough for the obligatory picture taking, and then retreated behind the clouds again.  This means that the photo will make it appear that I have been lounging in a land of sunshine.

Tonight I finished editing a friend’s thesis, the second one since I graduated.  I remain surprised to discover that writing a thesis actually taught me something about writing…

Woke up to 13 degree, windy and raining.  My good intentions to walk the 20 minutes to catch the bus went out the window, and I used $4 of the university’s money to take a taxi. It’s hard to believe that it is as warm as 13…it seems much colder.  I felt better when I got to the conference and recognized that most of the speakers were wearing their coats, and many were wearing boots.  Everyone was drinking gallons of tea – not because they were thirsty, but because holding the cups prevented hypothermia.

People in Cape Town are very nice; but central heating would make them nicer.  My room has two single beds so I can have two sets of bedding on my bed, so at least I’m warm when I’m sleeping.

After a lazy morning, I went to my first session.  It is a two day pre-conference organized by the committee that I belong to, so it was a gentle start to the conference, since I already knew most of the people there.

As a treat, the library that is hosting us arranged for a bus trip to the nearest nature reserve, Blaauwberg.  I know that when people think of nature reserves in Africa they imagine lions and giraffes, but this is a small nature reserve with small animals:  white tailed mice (we didn`t see any), porcupines (nocturnal, so we didn`t see any), honey badgers (also nocturnal) and a variety of snakes, which, thank heavens,  we also didn`t see. It is also known for its field of a particular yellow flower which wasn`t blooming at this time of year. It is on a beautiful beach of very fine white sand, but since it`s the Atlantic Ocean, and it never warms up, no-one swims here, and besides it was raining and blowing hard.  It remains as perhaps the least remarkable tour I have ever been on.  In case the animals aren`t enough of a draw, it was also the 1806 site of the Battle of Blaauwberg, in which the British took the area (yet again) back from the Dutch.

Back to the library for some local wine and cold chicken, and then on a bus to return us to the convention centre in central Cape Town.  It was dark and raining when we got back so it was a taxi back to the hotel for dinner.  Although Cape Towners say that this is the safest city in South Africa, and that you can walk down the street any time of the night and day, they also tell you to make sure that you always walk with someone.

Cape Town

As we were sitting in the plane in Edmonton, the pilot announced that the “computer was saying something funny” and that we weren’t going to take off until it was cleared up.  Unfortunately, this led me to imagine the computer leaning over the bar with a beer in its hand, saying,”Have you heard the one about the pilot and the dog?”  Apparently it settled down though and we left more or less on time.

I was seated to an interesting woman from Peace River, a Fish and Wildlife Officer, who was just completing her PhD at the UofA.  She is doing a study of the sociology of people regarding their believes about the control of caribou.  She talked a lot about doing a degree in Biology where you were trying to interview people and understand their attitudes – and it reminded me that no one loves your thesis topic, or cares about it, as much as you do.

Next stop, Heathrow.  When I went through immigration the officer stressed that I had to be very careful to get back in time to get my next flight; that if I missed the plane and  stayed longer in England, they would really be `very cross`with me.  My friend Emma came to meet me and we set off for Ealing Common on the Underground.  Emma had found a review of a little coffee shop and we went there for lunch, and for a very nice cup of coffee. The two young men working there were making our coffees competitively and wanted us to judge which one had done the best job making a design in the foam on top of the coffee.  We both hedged, and then one of the young men said that neither of them was particularly well done.  I have to confess that it looked just fine to me, considering that it was something that I was going to devour, rather than something I was planning to hang on a wall.

Back on the plane, only to find myself seated next to one of my colleagues.  We chatted a little about work, watched a movie, dozed, ate some really good macaroni and cheese, dozed, watched a movie, and many many hours later arrived in Johannesburg. I had a six hour layover here, but unfortunately no Emma to whisk me away.  After collecting my mountain of luggage and going through customs, I went to the connections desk, only to be told that I couldn`t give them my bags until 2 hours before my flight left, and I just had to find a chair and wait.  Actually I found a restaurant and had breakfast, and then went to the departure desk to ask if there was a place to store my bags so I could go for a walk.  The very nice man there suggested that I just check them…so I did, even though it was at least 4 hours before my flight.  Obviously if you don`t get the answer you want at one desk you should just proceed to another one until you get a better answer.

Back on the plane, this time for the last leg of the journey to Cape Town.  The plane had the usual arrangement – Business Class at the front, and three Economy cabins at the back.  I was in row 70 – practically the back seat, and right in the middle seat. I thought it would be very crowded but it wasn`t it all- I was the only passenger in the back cabin, and I sat in solitary splendour in my middle seat, while the two cabin attendants took turns offering me drinks and snacks.  It really was an odd experience.

Safely arrived at my very nice hotel 40 hours after I left home, fell asleep, woke up and ate, went straight back to sleep.

San Francisco

Last night we went to Francis Ford Coppola’s restaurant but the service was so bad that we left without ordering.  It turned out to be fortuitous as it led us to a tiny Italian restaurant with ten seats, for the best lemon cake I have ever had…with a glass of Prosecco, all for less than a glass of wine at FFC’s.

Best sight seen today: a very buff young man wearing a domino mask with large silver wings above his head, a black shiny thongs, and stilettos with a diamante strap across the instep.  K thought is was a little much before breakfast, but I thought it was  great way to start the day.  The rest of the day was like dress up day…acres of flesh, spandex  everything, glitter, rainbows and far too many tutus.  I didn’t imagine that they even came that large.

The parade was too crowded so I went to a couple of the parties — they were remarkably well behaved, and everyone seemed generally happy.  The Supreme Court decision this week that gay marriage was legal resulted in the sight of some large men in wedding dresses, and many people in rainbow mukluks.

On the way back to the hotel, a young lady gave us a sample of eye cream made out of merlot, and then invited us into the shop to demonstrate the other merlot based skin products.  After she had put two products on our eyes, and then demonstrated three more on our wrists, she told us the price…it was about $1000 US…which seems a little immoral when there is a man sleeping on the sidewalk two doors away.  She seemed surprised when we didn’t buy any considering the remarkable transformation that she believed we both had undergone.

Time to pack for home – and figure out how to carry all of the books we acquired or bought.

San Francisco

Best quote of the day, from a taxi driver, “That hotel used to be called The Holiday Inn Chinatown…then they changed the name to The Hilton Financial District and raised the prices.” Unfortunately, they didn’t do anything about the internet.  At least when I complained to the concierge, he gave  me a password and so I only paid for one day.

Much to my surprise I met a friend from South Africa while I was in the exhibit hall, and we had coffee together.  It seemed unlikely that we would meet, two souls wandering around in the midst of approximately 19,000 people.

San Francisco

I beg to differ with Roald Amundsen who said, “Adventure is just bad planning.”  This morning started with a very normal shower until I discovered that I was stuck in the bathroom.  The door, which slides on tracks, had somehow jumped the track. It needed to be pulled in to be freed, but unfortunately on the inside where I was, there was nothing to grab to pull it in by.  Fortunately, K was still in the room and hadn’t left for the day,  and was able to set me free.

The day was spent in a workshop on “Human Centered Design Thinking”, which is actually about celebrating and using ambiguity until you actually have to make a decision. It was interesting to be in the audience rather than be the facilitator, as I usually am.  There was the usual array of discomfort. People who needed to see the whole process before they could begin, people who needed endlessly more detail, and people who were fussed about how uncomfortable this whole thing would make people. Still,  I learned a couple of useful techniques, met a couple of interesting people, and discovered some new stuff to read, so it was a day reasonably well spent.

This evening, K lured me to a bookshop reputed to be one of the best used bookstores in San Francisco.  We went on the bus, which moaned on the way up the hills, and howled on the way down.  It was a little disconcerting, but no one seemed to be paying any attention.  I imagine that brake shops do a good business in San Francisco.  The bookstore presented the usual perils, resulting in the likelihood that we will have to pay for an extra checked bag on the way home.  As well as books, it had an outstanding collection of cards so I am well equipped for the coming year.

We staggered to a nearby diner for a great hamburger, and then split a taxi back to the hotel.  The taxi driver told us to expect one million people to be involved in the Gay Pride parade on Sunday, and suggested strategies to get to the convention center, which is on the other side of the parade route from our hotel.  The Supreme Court decision today that gay marriage is legal means that this year’s parade will have an additional level of celebration.

The hill that I made K walk up.  We are about half way up.

San Francisco

Today we had most of a day off so we decided to take the open top tour bus and see the city.  It was a marvellous day, clear and sunny and about 72 degrees F.  Like most city tours it was a good source of trivia, and a great way to see all the sights.  The concierge gave us directions to the nearest stop and we set off to walk a couple of blocks.  It was much closer than we thought and we got there way too early.  What happened next was almost inevitable.  K had the tour bus map, so she gave me the city map.  I would have to say that I am frequently cartographically challenged, more, I suspect, from a lack of attention to detail rather than an actual problem reading maps. She looked on her map to find out where the next bus stop was, and I charted a route on the other map.  First problem: the street that appeared to go just where we wanted to go ended in a cliff that towered about10 stories above us.  We diverted to a parallel street, which was an extreme climb upwards for about 3 blocks.  In some places the slope was almost like climbing stairs.  When we got to the top, there were stairs, about 10 flights of them leading up to near where we wanted to be.  If walking up was hard, walking down was just as hard.  It turned out that the park we wanted was back down the other side.  I felt like the bear who went over the mountain.

The bus ride was good…we got seats on the top right at the front, which is my favourite spot.   The spiel was pre-recorded, which never seems as good as the live ones.  Some of the things that I learned:  The new Academy of Science building is insulated with recycled blue jeans;  Ghiardelli makes enough chocolate chips in a year to reach from here to the moon; the Tenderloin district was once described as the “Heart of the low and vile” and the area where our hotel is was once underwater, and there are still several ships underneath the ground here.

We stopped at the corner of Haight and Ashbury, a place I haven’t been for many, many years.  It used to be more vibrant and colourful, or maybe my memory just painted it that way.  The summer of love, 1967, is remembered in many ways, some of them silly.  I saw a dog walking company called The Grateful Dog. We went by Golden Gate Park, where I slept under the starts.  At that time sleeping in the park seemed like an adventure, and normal, and now it seems like a failure of the social structure.

Panhandle Park was once a place of sand dunes, which the wind regularly blew here and there.  The city hired an army engineer to stabilize it. First he planted barley, then a variety of grasses. Once it was stable, he travelled all over the world and brought back various trees to grow there and hold everything together.  It must have been a mammoth task, and the large number of buildings in the area shows how successful he was. I wonder if it would even be possible now, given environmental controls and concerns about importing alien plants.

We drove across the Golden Gate Bridge, and even though it was a clear day, the tops of the suspension towers were invisible in the fog.  The Bay is beautiful, and it’s easy to see why wealthy people all wanted to build on the sides of the hills that provided the view.  There’s a street called Divisidero that reputedly separates the sunny part of SF from the foggy part, but the views are spectacular whichever way you look.  A sad reminder that everyone doesn’t go to the bridge for the view, though, is the signs that say “bridge emergency phones and counsellors”.  It’s a long way down and a very fast current.

Sometimes I hear things that strike me as funny even though they are not intended to be.  The bus was describing the variety of music to be found in SF.  “From hip hop to classical, from gay to jazz”.  I understand the intention of the first pair, but my mind struggles with the continuum from gay to jazz.

The architecture here reflects the moderate climate. Houses and apartments are built in ways that are not possible in places where it gets cold.  Lots of sticking out bay windows and bow windows,  with curved glass, too expensive if you need triple glazing.  Flat roofs, outdoor staircases and outdoor gardens on the hillsides all add up to a great deal of charm.  It’s balanced, however, by the large number of apparently homeless people sleeping on the streets and in the parks.

We ended up back at the Embarcadero and decided to have lunch at Pier 39, supposedly the most-visited spot in SF.  It certainly appeared to be popular. We had a great lunch; I had crab cakes since Dungeness crab seems to be on every menu here.  After that we decided to walk along the waterfront to Ghirardelli Square.    The old factory has now become what my Vietnamese friends refer to as “touristical”, but it has great views over the Maritime Museum and the Bay.  We couldn’t leave without sampling something, so a Ghirardelli banana split with a view of Alcatraz seemed like a good thing to do.

Our last plan for the day was to take a cable car back towards the hotel, but a one hour wait seemed overwhelming so we walked back to where we could catch the tour bus again, and headed for home.  It was a great day, but our brains were full so it seemed like a good time to quit.  Bread and cheese and fresh tomatoes for supper, and early to bed