Christmas was for the birds

I've been really busy and haven't had much time to write anything down. But I wanted to tell a story of two birds: the one I tried to save on Christmas, and the one I ate that same day.

First...I was walking to my flat in the middle of the afternoon, when I saw a crowd of people gathering in front of a driveway, snapping photos. What were they looking at? A bird. There was an injured hawk sitting in the driveway with a possibly broken leg. Everyone wanted a photo op with the bird and expressed sympathy for it, but as far as I could tell, nothing else had happened. So I called 411, got the T-Mobile operator, and asked for some kind of animal rescue phone number.

She patched me through to Animal Care and Control. Don't confuse them with the SPCA, who rescues, rehabilitates, and finds new homes for animals. However, the SPCA does not deal with hawks. Anyway, first the Animal Control person told me to pick up the hawk and put it in a box and bring it to her. But, as one of the bystanders said to me afterwards, "Isn't that their job? To pick up animals? How many city dwellers know how to pick up a hawk, anyway?"

Finally I got them to come out and get the bird, who had now figured out how to fly across the street, just to complicate things. It was hiding in a bush near a real-estate office. I hate it when hawks do that.

I waited till the Animal Care van arrived....the crowd of photo-takers left, expressing their regrets as they sped off to more important engagements, cell phones in hand. Eventually the woman arrived in the Animal Care van, and though she picked up the bird very gently and cradled it to her, she told me that the bird's leg was badly broken and that it was unlikely they could rehabilitate it. Which meant that I was sending it to its demise, which was not my intention. Perhaps it's better than dying an agonizing death from a voracious dog nipping at it or kids tormenting it or whatever....but I did think they'd make some effort to help it. Do they ever save an animal? Or should they be renamed "Animal Euthanasia and Control"?

Now, here comes the contradiction: I went to a Christmas dinner with some friends who invited me to share a dinner of goose with them. And I must say the goose was quite good....it tasted like chicken, only the meat was darker. It was delicious and as far as I'm concerned, if you're going to eat a big bird: skip the turkey, and go for the goose.

Yes, I know....it makes no sense. I spent my afternoon trying to save a bird, and then I ate one. But that's the paradox of the 21st century. We live in a world where people drive Hummers to the organic food shop. I am no better, I guess.

Diary of a Bad Housekeeper

I have a lot of stuff. It's everywhere, crammed into every available nook and cranny in my 700-square-foot quarters. And I have reason to believe that if I had twice the space, I'd accumulate twice the stuff.

No, I'm not one of those crazy people who stacks the walkways with six-foot-high newspapers and other trash, nor do I bring home found objects from dumpsters or anything like that. I'm a keeper. I buy something, or someone gives me something, and if I'm not using it, I decide not to waste it (after all, I might have a need for it someday), or I feel guilty about getting rid of it (if it's a gift), and then after awhile....if I keep it long enough....it's so obsolete that it becomes a collector's item and then I feel like I really can't get rid of it.

One of my worst violations is hardware and software. I've kept an 11-year-old Mac 8500 and all the accompanying software to install on it again in case-- for some reason-- I feel like I need to go back in time to simpler (and often more functional) software, or retrieve a long-lost archive from one of my many hundreds of stored floppy-disk backups. Yes, my old Syquest drive ($500 when I bought it in the early '90s) is still stored in my closet, somewhere. My 10-year-old SCSI color scanner still sits on a cabinet, waiting for me to find an old photo to scan. And until recently, I had an army of stiff cardboard boxes filled with old software disks and manuals for software programs that dated back to when George Bush's pappy was president.

I'm trying to mend my ways. Really I am. I've been breaking down boxes and recycling them and those old software manuals. But I'm still hanging onto all those disks and installers. Somebody....talk some sense into me....please.

smile doctor

I have a new dentist. This probably doesn't sound like a big deal, but I went to the same dentist for years and years....and then, when I changed jobs, I was far from her office, which was in the east bay. And my new job is in the opposite direction.

So....I went without a dentist for awhile. Then I started to search for one. But here's a tip: never, never pick a practitioner just because he or she is listed as a "preferred provider" by your insurer (or is the term "in network"?)! The people I contacted through my insurer weren't up for the job...they just charged the right price, apparently.

Finally I got a great recommendation for a dentist. He was downtown...in one of those big buildings filled with dentists and doctors. And I have to say....he was awesome! He showed me my teeth on a big flat-panel TV...in scary HD detail...did a complete exam, and even mailed me a comprehensive summary of the state of my gums, teeth, overbite, and more. I can get an appointment in a reasonable amount of time. And his staff seems to love their jobs. Not only that, they're hilarious.

This morning I had a filling done that I knew I needed before I found him. It took him 15 minutes...and he even gave me the novacaine I prefer....the kind *without* adrenaline in it. (For those of you who wonder why you feel so stressed in the dental chair: it might not be you. It just might be in that injection.) The nice thing about non-adrenalined novacaine is that it wears off in about an hour, so you're not slurring your words all day and trying to talk with a frozen face or crooked lips that feel like they're on someone else's face.

So....I'm happy with my dentist. My mouth will be in great shape, even though the rest of me is falling apart.

Album-buying fun

I recently bought two brand-new CDs...in shrinkwrap and everything. I don't do this as much anymore...first, I don't like what's in the brick-and-mortar stores, and if I buy physical CDs, I buy them used....otherwise, I buy them as downloads off the internet. And finally, I spend a lot of time looking for music online that I can legally put in a podcast.

But every so often, I order some CDs from Soul Seduction in Vienna. I got two CDs this time--and I could have bought them as downloads--but actually wanted the physical product this time. And I wasn't disappointed.

The first was the latest release in a compilation series that I like from Musicpark Records in Austria. This latest is called "Coconut"....previously there were releases like "Melon," "Lychee," etc. I don't always like every track on them, but there are enough that I do like. This was a nicely put-together collection of largely European downtempo-to-midtempo tracks from some artists I know already (Deep Dive Corp., Sofa Surfers, Waldeck), and some that I don't.

The second CD was really fabulous, in my opinion: Karuan's "Pop Arif," from Sunshine Records in Austria. This had lots of stuff I like in one package: subtle beats, downtempo with a hint of eastern fusion, and a nod to '70s-style soulfulness in the melodies and vocals...you know, the kind of soulfulness that pretty much became a dinosaur after rap and hip hop came along to dominate the culture. I liked this one so much I even posted a happy review on their site!

I notice that both Coconut and Pop Arif are also available as music downloads from Amazon now, too. Check them out.

That Turkey Thing

This Thursday is the most peculiar of American holidays: Thanksgiving. Inescapable, palate-deprived, and perhaps the only American holiday (except for the possibly socialist Labor Day) that doesn't celebrate either war or Jesus... celebrating Thanksgiving is a requirement if you live in the USA.

Rule #1:
You must have dinner with other people at their house -- not in a restaurant! -- and if you're being truly proper, they should be members of your family.

Rule #2:
You must eat turkey and bread stuffing and gravy, and then some other kind of starch, and maybe a vegetable, and then pie for dessert. No other food is acceptable.

Rule #3
There has to be too much food, the air has to be too stifling, and you have to feel heavy and full and basically disgusted afterwards from over-indulging.

Rule #4 (NEW!):
Go shopping the next day. Apparently the day after Thanksgiving, which is also a holiday, is the biggest shopping day of the year, and many stores offer slightly-lower-than-usual prices for those who are OCD enough to wait in the parking lot at 5 a.m. to get inside.

But let's get back to the Thursday event. It struck me a few years ago, when I was sitting in my car in a traffic jam on Thanksgiving, that everyone in all the other cars was also on their way to a Thanksgiving dinner somewhere and that they would be eating the exactly same distasteful food as I was consigned to eat: turkey and starch. How creepy is that?

Don't get me wrong. I love having dinner with my friends, and I do like to reflect on the things I should be thankful for (a practice that has largely disappeared from Thanksgiving), but menu options would be great. How about some cracked crab and champagne? Or rack of lamb? Why not creme brulée for dessert? And listen to some new electronica tracks while we're making dinner?

Really, we should be thankful that we're not like the pilgrims who allegedly launched this tradition. We could dress up like them and do some role play, like tossing a female guest into the nearest river and accusing her of being a witch. That might make the time before dinner a bit more interesting.

But seriously. I will be going to the home of some friends on Thursday to eat the required items ....the only twist to this is that the other participants aren't Americans....and they're probably far more into this tradition than I am!

The seven-year ouch!

Today I was reading an article about OPEC, and I saw a mind-blowing dollar figure for the price of oil in the year 2000....just seven years ago. It said that the price of oil per barrel in the year 2000 was just $10 per barrel. Today it's $100 per barrel.

Holy cow! Really? I knew it was creeping up and up, but I hadn't looked backwards to compare and contrast. It went up 1,000 percent since the year 2000?

Just think about it...seven years ago this month, Al Gore ran against George W. Bush for president of the United States. We all know how that turned out, and I'm sure this slightly elevated oil-price thing is just a wacky coincidence.

So I decided to search the net and look up a few other financial factoids from the year 2000. Looking backwards at November, 2000, exactly seven years ago this month, I found:

Value of the British Pound Sterling versus the US Dollar:
November, 2000: $1.42
November, 2007: $2.05

Value of the Euro against the US Dollar:
November, 2000: 83 cents (note: the Euro was only a valuation at this point)
November, 2007: $1.47

Value of the Canadian dollar against the US Dollar:
November, 2000: 46 cents
November, 2007: $1.02

Median price of a home in San Francisco:
November, 2000: $417,000
November, 2007: $827,000

National debt (in USD billions):
November, 2000: 5,674.2
November, 2007: 9,007.7

Green begets greenbacks

I spent Saturday afternoon at an indoor event: the Green Festival. I'd never been to one before. It was packed wall to wall with booths and upscale "sustainable" goods for sale, and a crush of shoppers carrying organic sacks filled with stuff. Because everything is about shopping, after all.

It was the usual suspects and then some: hemp clothing, books on various political and environmental topics, "safe" household cleaning products, toxin-free mattresses, green building materials, recyclers for all the old materials that people rip out of their homes when installing new "green" materials, alternative health practitioners, etc.

As you might expect, the solar panel groups were there. I basically think that PG&E should just install solar panels on everyone's roofs in California, but they're so expensive, and the financial burden (a 15-20 year payoff) is still on the homeowner, even though the energy companies benefit most from the power.

Every time our lifestyles change, new markets spring up. For example, San Francisco recently passed a ban on those awful, crinkly plastic bags that you got whereever you shopped, so there's a new market now for reusable shopping bags, and companies are starting to make them from recycled materials and personalizing them, which of course we all love to do.

I got very "glazed" from wandering amongst the crowd, and did my best to not get stomped on by eager planetsavers.

Goodbye, energy pig!

So, you were expecting something different from that headline? Thought you missed an impeachment or something? Nope. The big news is that I finally replaced my horrible, 18-year-old SUV of a refrigerator.

To make a long and boring story as short as possible, this refrigerator came with the condo when I moved in almost 9 years ago. It's been costing me $40-$50 per month in electricity, and it took me awhile to figure out it was the refrigerator.

I finally confirmed it when I found this website where you can find out your old refrigerator's energy rating, and it turns out mine used over 1,300 kwh! These days, most refrigerators are in the 400 to 500 kwh range.

The problem was, the previous owner built custom cabinetry around it, and then added a tile floor around it afterwards. It was bricked in, and there was no way to get it out than to demo part of the tile floor. And I couldn't find another refrigerator that fit the space without having to brick it in again. All American refrigerators are more or less the same spec...humongous. My choices were to either brick in a huge machine again, or destroy all my cabinetry and rebuild it.

Finally I started searching the web--isn't it great when you can search the planet from your own apartment? -- and found a Fisher and Paykel fridge that fit the space with room to spare in height, depth, and width. It was short enough for me to build a platform for it to sit on so that it was level with the tile floor....no more bricking it in! So I tracked down an appliance store that sold this model and then bought it. In 10 minutes.

The old one has been hauled away, leaving a pool of slime in its wake. The new one sits shining, clean, and quietly cooling in my kitchen. The shelves are clean and spacious....not like the crowded bacteria pit that I've lived with for 9 years. It even beeps at me if I leave the door open for too long. I can't believe I've finally solved this problem!



new fridge, with energy sticker



old fridge (side by side doors)

Words for dinner...I hope

I am looking forward to -- hopefully! -- eating my words. I've posted two entries in my blog about the transit initiatives that were on the ballot in San Francisco: one to give more money to public transit, and one that would suck the money out of private transit and give it to private developers to create more parking for cars.

I thought it would win, that San Francisco might repeat the debacle of the long-departed, but very well-loved Key Route system in the Bay Area, which was bought by GM in the 1950s and destroyed.

But so far, so good. Early reports say that the transit system is winning and the parking measure is losing. However, I've also heard that -- for reasons I'm unclear about -- it will take a whole month for San Francisco to count the ballots. That's plenty of time for some ballot boxes to disappear into yesterday's oil spill in the Bay...but I hope not!

The disinformation campaign continues

Tuesday is election day. You might recall that I blogged about a pair of confusing ballot initiatives: one which would increase funding for public transportation, the other which would suck money from public transportation and give it to developers to "create more parking spaces." Guess which ballot initiative has more money behind it, and, as a consequence, is mailing 4-color brochures of disinformation to my mailbox every day?

Cloaked under happy-sounding names like "The Coalition for San Francisco Neighborhoods" and "The Mission Group for Neighborhood Rights" (the Mission is a traditionally working-class neighborhood which intentionally makes this name particularly misleading), the anti-public transit people are sending mailings every day with soul-clutching headlines like "San Francisco Neighborhoods Need REAL Muni reform" and "If They Get Their Way, The Only Means of Transit Will Be Your Two Feet." Of course, this coalition is comprised of republican businesspeople and developers who want the money for public transit to go into their private development projects.

Their argument, which strikes at the heart of every self-interested, short-sighted modern citizen, is that we'll get more parking spaces "at no cost to the taxpayer" if we vote against proposition A and FOR proposition H. The reality is first, that if we used public transit more, we'd have less need for the parking spaces, and second, that we're losing neighborhood street parking all the time because private citizens are refinancing their homes and building garages under them....thus eliminating street parking in front of -- and adjacent to -- their buildings.

The spaces between each garage are seldom large enough to park more than a Smart car in them, if that. In fact, my neighborhood is constantly under construction, and even now, another homeowner is digging a hole in front of his otherwise-rickety building to create a garage for himself (see photo).

As an increasing number of people from the suburbs move here, there's been a tremendous increase in the number of super-sized cars on the streets, it's true. I've seen people move to an apartment building next door to a major Muni Metro station with a Cadillac Escalade parked in front....go figure! That's how I know the disinformation campaign will likely succeed.

People tend to be attracted by shiny objects. As proof, the people in my state elected Arnold Schwarzenegger as governor, throwing out the guy they elected the year before, because a group of people in southern California suddenly started a ballot initiative to take him from Hollywood to the state government in a non-gubernatorial election year.

Here's the scoop, San Franciscans:
YES on A (money for public transit)
NO on H (sucking money from public transit and giving it to private developers)

Off the air

Tonight I finally did something I've been wanting to do for a while: I cancelled my satellite TV subscription. That's almost $800 per year I was paying for television that I rarely watched. It felt good. But is it over yet?

The clerk at the other end of the phone line asked me why I was cancelling. Then she offered me a horrible-sounding "family pack" for $19.95 per month, which consisted of children's shows, religious programming, and FOX News! No wonder the USA is in the condition it's in right now. I declined.

Then she told me that they would ship me some boxes in which I had to ship back the DVR and other assorted equipment. She wanted me to retrieve a card from the satellite dish (a three-story climb on a rickety ladder....no thank you!) and she told me that somehow I still owe yet even more money for my final bill. And she asked me if I wanted to end it today. I said "Yes." But I can see the little red recording light on right now, recording The Daily Show...so is it really over?

It felt great, but it will be strange to have these two dead screens in my house. I might plug my iPod into them to watch podcasts of foreign news that I download from iTunes. Doesn't that sound great, actually?

The art of deception

After my trip home yesterday, I started thinking about how much effort we put into deceptive messaging in my culture.

Everywhere, we have signs or announcements that inform and disinform us at the same time. For example, on my flight home yesterday out of Washington D.C., the flight attendant cheerily told us that we had a "short flight....just five and a half hours." That's not a short flight at all...it's exactly the opposite!...especially with an additional hour spent en route for takeoff...or the additional two hours we spent queueing up for ticketing and security checks.

After that, as a "courtesy," they provided us with "food" that we could buy in flight. The food was, yet again, an assortment of pre-selected boxes of junk food packages from vending machines, grouped by theme, with absurd names. They also supposedly offered "fresh" food (pre-packaged salads and sandwiches), however, the "fresh food" sold out quickly and wasn't available anymore. Even that message ("we're out") was conveyed to us in an indirect, weirdly positive way.

The messaging at the hotel/resort was the same. There was an alternate, more-expensive food establishment next to the resort's canteen, with similar food in it to the canteen, but slightly better service. "For your convenience, we are open from 4 to 11 p.m." Of course, this actually meant "Sorry, we're closed until 4 p.m. every day."

Another one: "Sorry for our dust! For your enhancement, we are making additions for your future enjoyment" (or something like that) was the sign that meant "Under construction," telling the diners in the canteen to feel good about the construction noise while they ate.

Then I realized how disinformation has gone beyond politics and become a part of our everyday life. In the USA, companies don't just post a sign or make an announcement anymore that states the facts. They tell you how to feel about it. And the feeling they want you to have is completely dissonant with the one that you're actually feeling at that moment.

I think this is a part of US culture that might not exist in other countries. In France, for example, the signs are straightforward, leaving you to have your own feelings of outrage or indifference. "On strike." "Closed on Sundays." "Under construction." They don't try to tell you what it's not. They're not afraid of people having an attitude about it.

Most of us also know we're being lied to...but we shrug it off. We're surrounded by deceptions, where the meaning of the phrase is exactly the opposite of what it sounds: a good example are the "privacy policies," which are statements that tell you how a company (like your bank) is selling your name and the data they collected on you to other companies, for example. The danger comes when we start to believe them.

Prisoner of Fun

I'm still locked in the "fun gulag" (as a friend of mine referred to this resort) here in Florida. With 2,000 conference attendees, the already-limited and controlled resources seem even more spartan. Perhaps this is a dress rehearsal for an emergency in the future, like an evacuation center of some kind.

I have not seen a vegetable for three days now. When I asked for the platter of "grilled tuna, rice, and veggies," I received an astonishing, obscene array of fish, rice, and mashed potatoes with gravy, for example. This was the only food option in the canteen that listed "vegetables," as far as I know. The food prices are quite high and the options are so few that I wonder how the average American family can afford a holiday here.

Meanwhile, the messaging is everywhere. Even my hotel soap has Mickey Mouse stamped into it. The only store in this complex--and there's nothing else for miles and miles--sells only branded merchandise and a small handful of sundries, like Polident.

The conference itself has its good moments and its so-so ones, as do most conferences. I did enjoy the session yesterday led by a woman named Jane McGonigal, a game designer who creates innovative learning and gaming environments such as a simulation on life without oil, where users contributed to building the alternate reality to experience it. But some of the sessions were less stimulating, with the fringes of the room populated by sales reps looking for prospects.

A couple of my colleagues had rental cars, so we were able to drive away from the compound last night. We ended up at a mall a few miles away that was a bit surreal and which contained some of the usual suspects: Hard Rock Cafe, Virgin Megastore, etc...and a large Cuban restaurant, which offered a couple of mild variations to what we'd already been eating, but with plantains added to the mix.

Here's the resort canteen, which is surrounded by bars.

Ditzy World

I am at a resort in Florida for a conference, which starts in a few hours. I flew in yesterday...it took all day. I forgot that US-based flights don't have food anymore, so I was food-deprived. Everything seems skewed towards an airport-stopover lifestyle, with each airport loaded with chain-food restaurants.

However, my first flight was late, and I had only 10 minutes on my stopover to race from my first plane to catch my connecting flight, which had already closed the boarding door (and which they reopened for me, to my amazement, and to the disgust of the passengers already on the plane).

I didn't have breakfast, and there was no food on my first flight. I was hopeful that I could buy something on my second one. And I found out just what I could buy on that second flight: pre-bundled vending- machine packets of chips and salami and fake cheese, arranged in themes that someone deemed clever. I would have cried with happiness if they'd brought me one of those old-fashioned hot meals that you used to get on airplanes, with the soft vegetables and the meat with gravy and potatoes.

My first flight had a fly infestation in the back of the plane, for which the airline attendants apologized profusely and told us that we should call United's customer service and file a complaint, implying that there was nothing they could do unless we went up the chain of command. Meanwhile, I was seated next to a woman who was returning from a vacation trip to Vietnam. I asked her how she enjoyed it.

WOMAN: Vietnam was a beautiful country, but the information is so controlled....the people are very biased.
ME: How so?
WOMAN: Well, they have a really negative attitude about the Vietnam war.
ME: [...pause...] Well, that's understandable. I'm sure that when there's a long war fought in your own country and you see lots of destruction, it's hard to feel good about it.
WOMAN: Well, they have American tourism there. They really shouldn't have such an attitude.
ME: Hmmmmm.
WOMAN: But there are some real-estate bargains there, I'm telling you. It's a good time to invest, but prices are already going up.
ME: Prices are going up everywhere.

Luckily, she took this opportunity to put on her headphones and tune me out, so I did the same.

Flight number 2 was a bit better. The passenger next to me was a Canadian businessman who was also on his way to a conference -- though not the same one. We mixed and matched the "food" packets of our vending-machine bundles, and he explained to me how the value of the Canadian dollar -- higher now than the US dollar -- is hurting Canadian business.

On arrival at the airport in Orlando, I was picked up by an enormous cruise bus that drove me to the hotel. Apparently there are quite a few Disney-owned hotels here, and quite possibly not much else. During the drive, they turned on two television screens and a loud sound system and played a Disney cartoon, followed by VERY LOUD advertising for different Disney vacations. One was the EPCOT center, where apparently you can ride a gondola and look down "...on California like you've never seen it before!" I think I'll pass!

I finally got to my hotel, which is in a massive complex that's totally Disney-controlled. There's a lagoon (fake?), and fake rocks, and sand that was probably trucked in from elsewhere with palm trees and hammocks. And there's a large eating establishment -- apparently just one -- which will control what I eat and when I eat for the next three days. There's also an outdoor cabana/bar and I already saw a guy that looks like Jimmy Buffett sitting there. There doesn't seem to be a town anywhere nearby, and even if I was able to walk out of this place, the next-nearest thing is another Disney-owned complex. So, here I am! Thanks to Jan and John, who loaned me a portable Logitech stereo for my iPod, I'm at least able to listen to my own music instead of the Disney music channel. Now if I could just figure out how to turn the air-conditioning down...

saving the world, one sale at a time

Lately I've been reading books and articles about selling. They're written for salespeople and speak the language of their profession: a world unknown to me until the past few months or so.

From what I've read lately, selling is a service. Better still, don't even call it selling...you're actually "uncovering" your customer's needs, you're solving a problem, you're healing a customer's pain. From this perspective, if you're in sales, you're a therapist. A troubleshooter. A rescuer. A healer.

And under the best of circumstances, this sometimes actually happens. A good salesperson is someone who listens first, then recommends. And better still, also discourages me from making the wrong choice, like a friend. However, this only happens, and rarely so, when I'm in the driver's seat: when I make the call or go to the store with the intention of buying something or at least researching it. Or when something breaks and I need to replace it right away.

But what about telemarketers? Like the subprime mortgage lenders who call me without my permission -- even now, with the housing crash in the news everyday? Are they trained to believe they're performing a public service, as well?

Does the "you're doing good deeds" philosophy show up in every profession? If so, then everyone must believe that they're making the world a better, safer, cleaner, happier place. One sale at a time.

Shop now...before it's gone

I just got news last night that one of my favorite online record shops is shutting down at the end of October. Fake Science is a small enterprise that sells a limited selection of downloadable ambient electronic albums for a mere $5 (USD) each. That's nearly free to those of you in Europe and a bargain even if you're in Canada nowadays.

Unfortunately, I guess what was good for us wasn't so great for the founder of Fake Science, and so they're shutting down at the end of this month. Go now — and hurry! — if you'd like to get your hands on some of Ultimae's "Fahrenheit Project" compilation series for a good price, or Rena Jones' "Transmigration," or Adham Shaikh's releases, or a few other goodies. And thank you to Fake Science for being such a great service these past few years.

These are a few of my favorite things...

I didn't really know what to post after writing last week about my friend Marjorie's untimely death. Nothing seemed worth saying. But I started thinking about positive things, and some of the little things in life that make me feel good, and I thought I'd share a few here.

1. Shoes that fit. Yes, that's right. I love to walk, so it's important that shoes feel good even after I've been walking for a long time. Even better: going shoe shopping and trying on a brand-new pair that feel so fabulous that you know they're the right choice.

2. La Taqueria (25th and Mission Streets, San Francisco)
These are truly the best tacos and burritos I've ever had, in part because their salsa is so good. Years ago—when I first went to La Taqueria—I ate cilantro for the very first time in my life. Their formula hasn't changed, and I've been hooked ever since.

3. Train travel. I'm not talking about transit systems like the SF Bay Area's BART— I mean real train travel, with comfy seats, great views, beverages, and bathrooms. Like the Eurostar, or the train systems in many parts of Europe, or the Amtrak routes on the east coast of the USA. And...well, Caltrain is pretty good, too.

4. Salads as a meal. I just love a big salad that's full of good stuff and lots of variety...you should be able to get all the food groups into a salad and top it with a delicious vinaigrette, and that's all you need.

5. Music. Of course. But not just the downtempo and world fusion and trip hop and other good stuff that people associate with me, but also flamenco, and fado, and classical music like Bach's cello suites (because the more melancholy it gets, the more beautiful it sounds).

6. Bookstores. Even though I get many of my books via Bookmooch these days, I love going to a real bookstore that's jammed full of books and magazines on every topic and thumbing through books and yes, even buying them.

7. Hardware stores. This might surprise you, but I find hardware stores fascinating. I've always been clueless about construction, but I'm a sponge for information about it. I love to just browse in hardware stores and find little things that I didn't know existed, but which solve a problem I've been dealing with for a long time. I like the tools, too.

8. Red wine. Strong varieties, like Malbec and Shiraz and Merlot and Médoc, to name a few. But I got a taste for white wine spritzers while I was in Switzerland, too.

9. Solving problems. This kind of goes with the hardware store. I like solving problems, but I'm not keen on process. I'm the type who likes to throw a solution at something and see if it works. If it doesn't, then I try something else.

10. A comfortable sofa. Isn't it great when you sink into an insanely comfortable sofa? The kind that makes you want to lean back, relax, take a nap, read a book, or hang out and chat with your friends? Where your legs are the perfect distance to the floor and your back feels like someone just gave you a massage?

These are a few of my (many!) favorite things.

R.I.P., MEB

Today I received news that a longtime colleague of mine passed away after a battle with brain cancer.

I knew she was ill and I was in contact with her through the spring. In the past couple of months, her condition worsened. She was lucky to have two caring brothers and a core group of friends to give her round-the-clock support until the very end and they even set up a Yahoo Groups site to communicate with each other and with us.

She knew what she was up against. I spoke with her not long after her diagnosis last summer. Her cancer was a really invasive one: glia, I believe it's called. The prognosis was horrible and there was no reason to believe she would beat the odds. She was very clear about it and quickly set about with organizing her papers and her affairs while she was still able. She was pragmatic above all else.

Even if she had survived, the affected area of her brain was the part that processes language. She lost the ability to communicate: both what she said, and what was said to her. I can't think of what could be worse for someone who valued words, language, and clarity more than anything else. At first, it was just a few words here and there, but when I saw her a few months ago, she had trouble remembering the name of her cat.

I worked with her for 10 years. In fact, we used to live on the same street and commuted together to work until we both moved elsewhere in the late '90s. For seven years, our cubicles were next to each other. I think the biggest shock for me was when she was diagnosed: knowing that she would never -- and could never -- be again the person I used to know, the natural-born mentor of editors.

The news today was less of a shock, at least so far. Her condition had worsened to the degree that there was nowhere left to go but death. That doesn't make it any easier. So tonight I am thinking of Marjorie: the most passionately erudite editor I've ever known. Rest in peace.

Blue Angels blues

For the past few days, the Blue Angels have been shrieking across the sky overhead San Francisco with their death-defying antics. I know the board of supervisors tried to stop the war games over my city, but they were unsuccessful...I'm not sure why. Anyway, this dangerous air ballet is totally nerve-wracking...my cats are hiding, and I can't stand looking overhead. Why is it that I'm not allowed to drive over 50 mph on the Bay Bridge, but a 21-year-old kid who's jacked up on adrenaline is allowed to fly dangerously -- at high speeds and very low to the ground -- over a densely populated area?

"It's the most wonderful time of the year"...already

For the past three weeks, I've been getting Christmas catalogs in the mail. Already. It's the usual suspects: LL Bean, LL Bean Home, LL Bean Travel, LL Bean Women, LL Bean Kids, LL Bean in Second Life (joking!), Crate and Barrel, West Elm, and more clothing catalogs from lesser-known sellers. I might have gotten Pottery Barn, too, but recycled it immediately because I can't stand Pottery Barn and I've already got one just five blocks from my flat, which I scurry past without looking every day.

So...this doesn't excite me, this four months of Christmas. Rather, it depresses me. It used to be that online or catalog shopping was my salvation from the crowds -- I could avoid the horrible holiday jingles in the stores and that awful feeling you get when you're in a department store with too many mirrors and too many shoppers.

But not now. I'm hunted by the catalogs....there they are in my mailbox every day, appearing again even as I recycle the previous ones, sometimes growing more bloated in size as the number of weeks to Christmas -- still in the double digits, right? -- draws nearer. I'm getting more catalogs than I am pre-election drivel this year.

Look, I understand what a big deal the holiday season is for retailers. But with the US dollar sinking below the Canadian dollar in value...and almost $1.42 to the euro as I write this -- I can't help but feel that the catalogs are clawing at my arms as I drop them into my recycling bin. I'm sorry, catalog retailers, I know you're counting on us to save the USA...but we have big troubles ahead, and I just don't feel like shopping right now.

operaspotting

It's not the first time that I've seen them, but it's always a delightful surprise. These two opera singers sometimes appear at the train station during my morning commute. They have incredible voices and it's a shame that everyone passing through there is usually too much in a hurry to stop and listen.

I think it's gonna work out fine...

Feeling lazy today. I have plenty of things I should do... but I'm not doing them yet. Instead I did useful things this morning like yanking unwanted cookies off my computer, and yesterday I uploaded a new downtempo podcast and only had to redo my xml code three times before it actually appeared in iTunes.

Meanwhile, the cats are starting to figure out how to live together. Since it's only been a week and the older cat has pretty much stopped hissing, I'm hopeful that they'll be respectful companions when I'm not at home. Judging by this photo, I think that's possible.

The New Cat

After I got home from Zürich, I felt really guilty about my lonely 13-year-old, black-and-white cat. Until January of this year, she lived with another cat, and even though they weren't best friends, they kept each other company. That cat (who was 17) died in January of a tumor. And the other one has been living alone with me ever since.

The problem is, she hates being alone. She shadows me in the apartment and hates for me to leave. I thought she liked other cats, too -- at least, she used to -- and so today I went to the SPCA to look for a roommate for her.

I found this totally cool black cat whom I liked immediately. He was a gentle giant of a cat who purrs all the time and doesn't seem to be burdened with the typical cat neuroses. He was reaching his paw at me through the window of his SPCA cubicle, which he shared with two other cats. Clearly, he could live with other cats, and clearly, he responded to me. I thought my cat might like him.

I talked with the cat psychologist (or whatever you call them) and I got cleared for takeoff. The New Cat came home with me. I played by the rules: they told me to keep the cats in separate rooms for a couple of days. I'm an urban apartment dweller, so I don't really have extra rooms. The New Cat got set up in the bathroom.

Everything was OK for awhile until it turns out that my bathroom door never really locks shut. He figured that out in about 2 hours. Out he strutted, which set off my older cat into a fit of exploding hisses and snorting. Wow! I'd never seen her do that before...and....oh, no....

The New Cat is now barricaded into the bathroom, but he wants nothing more than to move into his new apartment. The Old Cat wants to do nothing more than to murder him. What have I done???

yakety yak

I'm certainly not the first person to complain about this, but I really can't stand it when people talk incessantly on their cell phones while riding on public transit.

The violators fall into two categories: the first type is the passenger who has nothing to say but never stops talking. Usually this person boards the train with lips already flapping and one shoulder hunched to hold the cell phone tight against the ear. This breed of cell phoners NEVER gets off the phone for the entire ride, even if it means calling every single person in their address book. This person needs a babysitter. Luckily, these motor mouths usually disembark before the train reaches the city, probably to go to a shopping mall.

Type 2 is basically "Type A." This cell phoner turns the entire train car into his or her office space. The work day begins on the train and all of us get to share in this person's business matters. The device is typically a Blackberry, but beginners will use a Razr. Forget confidentiality: we all know by the end of the call exactly what you think of your clients!

One of my friends in Switzerland told me that the Swiss solved this problem by creating a train car just for cell phone yakkers. These train cars must resemble the glass-boxed "smoking room" at airports, where people pace back and forth in a smoke-clogged room with cigarettes in their hands. Maybe the cell phone IS the new cigarette.

Don't most mobile-phone service providers allow text messaging now? Use 'em.

Back to bad habits

Well, there's no denying it: I'm definitely back, and back to my old tricks, as well. Today I walked to Amoeba Records to peruse the wares. I know--it's a compulsion. I have plenty of music. But you know how it is when you're into something....it's never enough.

Astonishingly, I don't walk out of Amoeba any more with an armload of CDs. Times have changed. I have a lot of what I want already, and the stuff on my wishlist is largely available only on special order from Europe or by digital download from web-only sellers. And like any record shop -- used or new -- even Amoeba has a lot of what I DON'T want: rack after rack of awful circuit-music CDs with ugly 3D cover art on them, and a seemingly endless supply of chillout compilations from 2001 with basically the same tracks on all of them but different bimbos on the cover.

Well, OK....I did buy three CDs. But I went in with a wishlist, and the chances of finding any of them was pretty remote. I guess I just couldn't leave empty-handed.

re-entry draws nearer

Well, I'm wrapping things up in Switzerland. Today I started out with some clothes shopping....the clothes in Switzerland are awesome and they could also empty my bank account rather quickly....and through an extreme act of self-discipline as well as a nod to the burgeoning size of my suitor bag, I bought nothing.

Nothing, that is, except for a nice, folding black umbrella when the rainstorms started up this afternoon, which was promptly lifted from me by a restaurant patron a few hours later when I foolishly left it in the public umbrella bin with everyone else's. (Funny how every time I do that, my umbrella disappears,)

During the afternoon, I met Nicola and we walked around a bit in the rain, then settled into a trendy-looking lounge with low, leather sofas for some tea.

Later, all four of us -- Tanja, Michael, Nicola, and I -- went out to a traditional Swiss dinner, followed by a visit to another Zurich landmark in a 500-year-old converted munitions building for drinks and dessert. Here's a few photos: the bow and arrow on the wall is yet another reference to the legend of William Tell, Note the size of the beers, which are being prepared with whiskey or something that was first set on fire. And though I'm not a beer drinker these days, I had to try it.

I'll miss Switzerland and really miss the superior quality of life in Europe, but I also look forward to being home and getting back to my life, my states-side friends, my crazy, lonely cat, work, and my interests, too.

finally, nice weather

Sunday turned out to be really warm (24 degrees celsius), so Nicola and I spent the day walking around Zurich, first along one of the rivers and past the park that was once filled with drug addicts but is cleaned up now...and then down to the section of Zurich that's supposed to be dangerous, at least compared to the rest of Zurich, but during the day didn't look so dangerous to me....and then we went to an outdoor African fair and ate some food. We sat outside at cafes -- easy to do here, because there's outdoor seating just about everywhere -- and then we walked down to the lake.

Lots of people were out and lots of baby strollers...has anyone noticed how BIG baby strollers are getting nowadays? These strollers were like SUVs.

Then I went to a music event that evening in a club where Nicola was DJing, and met some of her friends. One spoke English and one spoke French, but the others spoke only German or another language, so I wasn't able to chat with all of them.

Anyway, it was a lovely day. Weather-wise, I might not be so lucky on Monday.

day tripper

So today I went to the alps. Tanja and Michael came up with this great idea: we could take a train to another town and catch the ferry (the ferry and the train station are next door to each other, conveniently), take the ferry through a section of the alps to Lucerne, walk around Lucerne, and then take the train back to Zurich. Then we planned to have a rooftop barbecue for dinner back in Zurich with our friend Nicola.

Being -- you know -- foreign, I wondered if it was possible to do so many things in one day, and without a lot of hassle, and still have time to do a roofdeck barbecue that night. Indeed, there was no hassle at all. We walked in the morning to the train station in Zurich at a leisurely hour -- 10 a.m. -- and I bought a ticket for the whole day: the train (both ways) and the 3-hour boat ride, which came to 82 Swiss francs. And after a day of adventuring, we were back in time in Zurich to make a barbecue on the rooftop, and we did.

Now, mind you, if in the USA there was such an offering like this: you know, a comfortable train, a 3-hour ferry ride, alps, medieval town to walk through at the end, etc. -- it would be a huge hassle. You'd probably have to order tickets through Ticketmaster weeks in advance, stand in long queues for hours, drive in horrible traffic, go through a metal detector, get served hot dogs and stale pizza on the ferry if you were lucky, and then be greeted by horrible knick knack shops and beggars and people dressed like Heidi trying to sell you plastic Matterhorns. But it wasn't like this at all. It was really, really cool...

The ferry was indeed a 3-hour drive on Lake Lucerne, and through the alps, or some of them. It wasn't crowded....there were plenty of people, but not a mob scene. And the ferry stopped many times along the way in tiny alpine villages where people hopped on board to go to Lucerne. Each of these villages had features that made them seem really interesting to visit: you could ferry to them, or train to them for an evening (dinner) or a longer visit in a hotel on the lake. And these hotels looked splendid in a very elegant and distinctly European kind of way. These kinds of getaways are entirely do-able if you live there.

In addition, the ferry had a restaurant where we were served wine and salad and strong cheeses and ham and so on...it was affordable and good. There was an outside deck where we could look at the scenery, or we could sit inside. It was a great day for someone like me, who likes trains and boats.

Then we arrived in Lucerne. I'd never been there before. Villages like this must have been the inspiration for Walt Disney, who made a fortune from building fake castles.

Totally cool city. We walked across the ancient wooden bridge and along the lake front, where --like any European city with a waterfront-- restaurant after restaurant served people at tables outside, right along the water. After we walked through old town for awhile, we walked uphill to the towers of the old city wall, and climbed inside one of them to look at the landscape of Lucerne. Then we went back to the waterfront, had a drink at one of the cafes outside, hopped on the 5:10 train back to Zurich, and we were back at the apartment in time to barbecue and eat salad and wine on the roof with Nicola. It was a cool day...very special for me, but normal, I think, if you live here.

Friday: the digest version

The short version of how I spent Friday:
Early in the day: Kunsthaus museum, the Peter Fischl/David Weiss exhibition. Very whimsical, funny, unexpected. Everyone was chuckling at the different exhibits in the show. Fun!
Next: Lunch at Globus
Then: walking around on the "other" side of the river, where all the name-brand shops are located... and where I saw limo drivers waiting for their employers to finish their shopping sprees
Next: walking in the outdoor theatre by the lake with Tanja and Michael....from what I understand, this is an annual event that features magicians and people who do fire tricks, and outdoor food and entertainment.
Next: eating at a hidden "alternative" restaurant in an old factory by the lake, known as the "red factory," or "rote fabrik." We sat outdoors on benches for dinner, though it was kind of cold. It was the best of alt-Zurich culture.
Then....back into the main town on the tram because we were cold and tired.

Tomorrow: Lucerne.

walking around

When I got up on Thursday, there was a lot of action going on outside my window. Have I mentioned before how all my vacations usually include a construction project going outside my window? Well, this one fits the pattern. However, one pleasant difference is that the building I'm in is constructed really well, so the sawing, jackhammering, and --look in the photo -- this crane outside, hoisting construction materials to some men who are standing at my eye level -- wasn't that intrusive. Amazing! Compare that to my experiences in Paris, where I heard everything on my street and the adjacent ones, and of course, suffered from that awful grocer.

So what did I do on Thursday? I walked around. Even though I bought a tram pass, I decided to walk. The danger of that, of course, is that I drifted into shops along the way and bought things. One of the things that I bought was a pair of long pants. Nothing exciting, but something that actually fit and will give me something clean to wear on my trip home.

However, I made a discovery: unlike in some countries when you try on clothing in a shop, in Switzerland the closed curtain in your changing room is no barrier to other people, whether it's the helpful shopclerk or another customer. I was surprised when the saleswoman barged unexpectedly into the changing room shortly after I pulled up the zipper on the first pair of pants, but after that, I was expecting her....and she arrived behind the curtain again and again. So did another customer, who began taking off her clothes inside there with me. If I did this at home I'd set off screams and probably get shoved from the room or even get thrown out of the store, but that's what makes changing cultures so much fun.

After spending a lot of money for very few items, I decided to use the public restroom in the train station. I have to say this is the cleanest public restroom I've ever seen in my entire life. The name says it all. You have to pay to go inside through the turnstile. While it's not uncommon in parts of Europe to have to offer change to someone to use the toilet, this place was entirely different. Once inside, there was a huge fountain area for washing up, and behind that, several doors with red or green lights over them, indicating their availability. The bowls inside were sudsy from just having been cleaned. And when you're done, an employee rushes inside after you and scrubs it down again. A bit neurotic, I agree -- I felt almost guilty for having bodily functions -- but I nominate Mc Clean for being the cleanest public bathroom in the world.

Oh, but a word about the pricing. There are two entrances: one for men and one for women. On the men's side, the pricing on the window says that it costs 1 Swiss franc to use the toilet. On the women's side, it costs 2 francs. Women have to pay twice as much. So, sit for a moment with your favorite beverage in your hand and ponder the social, biological, and political nuances of this pricing scheme.

And now about the trams. The trams are everywhere....they come often. They're comfortable. And if you're in the area of Central, you have to be really careful. They're coming from every angle and as a pedestrian or even a passenger, you have to look carefully and move quickly to avoid being hit by a tram or a car. I've bought a one-week tram pass that I'm apparently supposed to punch once for every 24-hour period that I want to use the tram. However, I'm not using it as much as I thought I would so far, and after I punch my pass, I feel like I should be riding the tram as much as possible to get the maximum benefit from it. Now here's something else you should know about the trams in Zurich: you have to push the button on the outside of the car to open the door to get in, and there's a button on the inside that you need to push to get out. If you don't, you'll be staring at a closed door and get left behind.

The Laundry Challenge

Anyone who's ever stayed in another country long enough to do laundry knows what it's like to be confronted with a laundry machine that speaks a different language than yours. Well, today, I decided to go downstairs in the apartment building and visit the Swiss laundry machine. After all, it's still cold out, and I only have two pairs of long pants. So I have to wash the dirty pair again.

First, I had to decide: is this the right soap? Is it soap at all? Luckily, the product labels are also in French, and this looks OK and not like bleach or something.

Then there's the control dashboard...what buttons should I choose to get ready for takeoff?

Then there's the soap tray....three slot options....hmmmmm. I think if I pour the soap in the middle slot, that should be OK.

Finally, after I make my selections, will the machine just start? What's the button with the "key" symbol on it? It turns out that opens the door again. Well, it looks like the machine is starting on its own...I looked up "Haupt" and I think this means "leader wash" or maybe "pre-wash"?

rainy day in Zurich

It pretty much rained all day today -- hard! -- but there was a brief break midday, and I took a few pictures.

I walked around part of the old town...first stopping in some shops (where I had a woman show me some black tshirts that ranged from 150-260 Swiss francs....how much is that? Probably almost $200). I saw a furniture store that I couldn't resist....check out the zebra sofa...and was baffled by a shop that appeared to be an upscale restaurant on one side, and on the other side, apparently sold pillows.

I also met my friend Tanja for lunch in a really cool vegetarian salad-bar place called "tibits." But it wasn't a typical salad bar....it had a lot of already-made, really yummy food, some of it Swiss, some of it Indian, all of it good.

Finally....here's a view from the window of the apartment, through rainy windows.

figuring things out

After a morning of heavy rain and lightning, I've finally drifted out of bed. I'm alone in the apartment, trying to figure things out. This apartment is very nice and I'm afraid of doing something wrong.

For example:
I made coffee in the coffeepot. Now I need to clean it. How do I open it without breaking it or getting coffee everywhere?

This sponge is cool. Is it for washing dishes? I hope so. This stick (to keep your hands off the sponge) is clever.

Why are there two flushes on the toilet?

Schweiz

It's raining...but it's a quiet lull. I am in a thick, clean apartment with white walls that are solid like bunkers. The windows are dense and quiet. The floors are clean wood that don't resonate when you walk on them. There's a machine in the kitchen that makes bubbled water, poured straight from the tap, that tastes as good as Badoit. The fixtures are beautiful. The tram comes every six minutes. I am in Switzerland.

last day in Paris...

I spent my last day in Paris cleaning the apartment, running errands (I bought a cheap fleece pullover so I don't freeze to death), and then met my friend Pascale for an evening at Cafe de l'Industrie in the Bastille. I really like this place....and so do a lot of people....it's totally jammed! It normally occupies two buildings on facing corners, and right now only one of them is open, so the remaining one is standing room only. We got a table at 6:45, where Pascale insisted that we get drinks first (dinner before 8 is a no-no!).

I had carpaccio....brave, because my digestive tract is still a mess....but it was delicious...and she had steak tartare. I'll miss Paris, but not the grocer (he's closed on Mondays, thankfully). And I missed a few of the things I like to do when I'm here. But onwards....on Tuesday...to Switzerland.

Below is a photo of the slippery, winding stairs I traversed several times per day to my apartment. You wouldn't want to hang onto the banister too hard, though...it's loose! And there's a huge window between every landing, so if you fall, guess where you'll go?

a few more photos

Here's some more photos of our walk through the 18eme and the 20eme arrondissements...you still find some old one-family Parisien homes here, mixed with new, modern apartment buildings. Parc de Belleville is awesome, and if you climb all the stairs to the top, you have an aerial view of Paris...plus a great view of all the lush landscaping on the levels of the park itself.

I didn't take any photos of it, but we walked through what seemed to be an African squatters' area, with a huge, rundown apartment building filled with African men, clothes hanging off all the balconies, and corn on the cob -- with the corn eaten off of it -- thrown everywhere on the ground.

This graffiti artist was in a tiny alleyway in the lower part of Belleville, not far from the Belleville metro stop. It looked like it had also been a squatters' area but was starting to get renovated, as was the area at the other end of the block which had been Tunisian, maybe....? But all the shops looked closed and there was construction equipment everywhere.