The Quiet Ripple Defines The Pond

I have to get up early to move my car because Monday is street cleaning on Fell. I go to Whole Foods to look at the food displays and marvel at the variety of produce.

Wheeee!

Americans love Kale

And roots

I then stroll down Haight. A movie is being made. There are 100 people hanging around waiting. Movie making must qualify as the most boring job in the world.  My destination is the Pork Store Cafe, founded 1901, a cafe that serves only-in-America breakfast.

Stuff to put on food

I get two pork chops, garlic grilled with two eggs over easy,hash browns and English muffin. I know ,I know this goes against everything, but I love it. The servers are smiling and witty, the coffee replenished effortlessly, the food delicious and probably best of all is the rhythm. You sit down; a glass of water and menu is delivered. As soon as you have made up your mind, Oceanbreeze, my server is there and shouts “Pork chop!” to the cook.  The food is suitably, time wise,  there, sizzling from the grill.

Yay!

Oceanbreeze appears with the check just as you are contemplating moving on.”No hurry, take your time.” But the timing is perfect – I am ready to go. It is a masterpiece of stage management.

A peasant becomes fond of his pig and is glad to salt away its pork. What is significant, and is so difficult for the urban stranger to understand, is that the two statements are connected by an and not by a but.

One of my goals in life is to eat in every restaurant on Irvine St in San Francisco. I worked hard at this when I spent  a few months there in 2010. Being in the city, I added a new restaurant to my life list.

ipse loret

San Tung is  famous, not only because it’s name sounds like the name of physics Nobel laureate Sam Ting, and is already packed with Chinese Americans when I get there at 12:00. These people make a lot of noise. The table next to me is populated by Chinese American SFPD, all having a great time.

A Jewish woman had two chickens. One got sick, so the woman made chicken soup out of the other one to help the sick one get well.

I order Happy Family, $9.95. First I get a big pot of tea. Next I get a plate of kimchi. Then I get a bowl of soup and finally rice and a Happy Family which is a huge stir fried plate of, squid, chicken, shrimp, assorted vegetables. I think this is San Franciscan Chinese food that was never eaten in Xanadu. Who cares, it is delicious and for $9.95 has to be one of the great deals in town.

Not a very good photo

As I have mentioned before my most prized possession is my flute. Made in the 1820s with exquisite craftmanship, she is still going strong. However from time to time little ailments crop up which need doctoring. Ah, San Francisco, city of little shops. Maybe it stems from the time when San Francisco was the only place that made stuff from Chicago to Hawaii that you can find any profession, artisan, craftsman you want in the city. I have had shoes repaired by devoted Italian leatherworkers, chairs reupholstered by strong fingered Poles but my favorite artisan is Daniel Deitch. He and his wife Yukari repair woodwind instruments from a tiny shop way out on Clement.

Go there for your woodwind needs

My flute has been weakened by the heat and humidity of Okinawa and the C key and short F key no longer close effectively. It is a wonderful feeling of security to know that Daniel can fix it and of course, this being the US, fix it fast with a smile.

Daniel and Yukari neither actually smiling

Their tiny workshop is littered with amazing instruments in various stages of repair. Sitting in the corner is someone making very low-frequency sounds with a bass saxophone made of wood. It is a delight.  Thank you.

All better

Deflated at SFO

In Okinawa I drive a little Nissan that has I think a 1 liter engine – very respectable by Okinawan standards. In California I drive a Range Rover – it has a V8. As luck would have it the suspension deflates terminally on the day I arrive. A friend valiantly leaves it at the airport for me but she is very low when I get in from Japan. The Range rover suspension consists of four inflatable rubber cylinders, one for each wheel. These rubber bags, like all rubber things, puncture and when that happens the suspension shuts down. The car is driveable but only at 20 mph. The drive into SF is very hairy but I make it to my wee But and Ben on Fell.

My place in San Francisco

Ben has sent info about a possible repair shop; for yes the problem has been anticipated. Another challenging drive – 2 ton truck with no suspension – through downtown SF terminating at John Gardiner Automotive. I have no appointment but John is just another of those great Americans who say, ” Ok lemme look at it and I will see what I can do.” It is 5:00 pm. I am anticipating total suspension change demanding thousands of dollars resulting in  probable scrapping of truck. I am sad.

John phones next morning. ” Come by and pick her up at lunchtime. It’s all good.”

Back on her feet

I love America. So fast, so friendly,

I take my car to have her hair done.

At the Spa

Rub down

Another thing I like about the US is that you plug the gas hose into the tank hole thing, flick a catch which keeps it pumping until it is full whereupon it turns itself off. This takes about 20 mins so you have time to get a smoothie and a burger.

Time for a nap

So my first post from California is quite rightly about cars. I love my big V8.

Two colleagues Shawna and Sam are about to leave. They have been fantastic and so we have party.

Like this but better

It has been a truly beautiful day and as evening draws in the sea goes an incredible blue.

Flowers to embellish crazy cocktails. All picked from hedgerows around the apartment.

Sam, Shawna, Alison

USA, Middlesborough, Kashgar, Romania

We hang out on the terrace on starry hot Okinawan night. We Strip the Willow, which is perhaps not the best dance in 30 degree heat. I have to ask people to leave at 1:30 because I am 60.

Next day 

I have a headache

There was a leg of lamb, a huge lump of roast beef and tons of Okinawan stuff there a few hours ago.

Dead Terminator cocktails

Quite a night

I have  a day in London. I buy a stock of Silvo. I get my glasses fixed, for I had sat on them, by a very helpful lady called Mel in the Boots Optician on Clapham Common. Thanks Mel. I take the tube to London Bridge where I rent a bike from a stand and cycle gently to the Tate Modern.

This building is called The Shard

Rentabike

There is an exhibition of Damien Hirst’s stuff, which is a bit um silly, except for one room which is very hot and humid and full of exotic butterflies. It is like Okinawa. The butterflies settle on you and engage you in conversation. Their vocabularary is a bit limited and I soon tire of talking about fruit. The rest of the show at the Tate was OK but you know.

Beam in on me baby,
and we’ll beam together
I know we always been together,
but there’s more.
Mister Zoot Horn Rollo, hit that long lunar note,
and let it float.

I walk up the South Bank in an atmosphere of triste est omne animal post olympicum.

Yes we have no bananas

Many athlete looking people in fancy track suits so I eat some Fish and Chips.

Nice but ridiculously expensive

I cross Westminster Bridge and go for a tour of Parliament.

Boiled Beef and Carrots

The Victorians were a strange bunch. The buildings are full of paintings of Kings and whatnot and Sir Gawain swearing  humility and Lady Jane Grey going to the bridge. I think it is time for a makeover. The actual House of Commons is remarkable for it smallness.

Back to Clapham to bathe in familial hospitality offered by Ian and Ann.

Thanks
.

My Mummy is very old and is now in an old folks home. She is very forgetful but well and likes to have a good time. My brother Ian, the 3 boys, Jeremy, James, Ben and I go to visit her the day after the wedding. Her home is run by nuns, the leader of whom is Sister Basil. Sister Basil comes from County Wexford in Ireland and although I do not know her well, I hold her in high estimation.

Sister Basil

It is good feeling to know that your Mummy is being well looked after.

La Famille

We look at photos of the previous days wedding and then she plays us some tunes on the piano. Lots of love Mummy.

I can wash a sailor’s shirt

I have come from Okinawa to celebrate the marriage of Kathleen, my niece, to Jonathan, no relation. We foregather at the Registry Office  to mark the wedding. Very jolly if a little lacking in hymns.

Kathleen the beautiful bride

They sign

Thence to Springbank, the home of my sister, named after the distillery near which we were born.

http://www.springbankwhisky.com/

We the embark on another classic wedding reception. Check previous post on a similar wedding just a year ago. https://quietripple.wordpress.com/2011/07/18/how-to-do-it/

We start with champagne and nibble things. It is early in the day and so much champagne is dangerous.

Drink this now!

Eat now!

All three of my sons are here and I feel wonderful. They are all suddenly very good-looking.

Jeremy thirty er, James twenty er, Auntie Margie 91, Ben twenty er

We take souvenir photos and then into the marquee for food, speeches and general fun.

Yay!

All the family are here, something that has not happened for several years. Mummy and Auntie Margie are around 90.

Mummy sings with the harpist.

My sister, brothers and I are in our 60’s. Our children range for 40ish to mid-20s. At last there are two much admired grandchildren who are like 2.

A grandchild with mother

No mother

Sister Rosy with mother

Brother Ian offers Love Hearts to his wife.

Brother Alan – the bride’s father

Cousin Bobby has a quiet moment with son Ben

Good looking people

Food

Pudding

Drink

It is a beautiful English summer day. It has apparently been raining for weeks making the garden lush and beautifully green. Women wear hats and we all have a wonderful time.

“Where did you get that hat? Where did you get that tile?
Isn’t it a nobby one, and just the proper style?
I should like to have one Just the same as that!”
Where’er I go, they shout “Hello! Where did you get that hat?”

As the evening grows late we dance in the warm Summer air.

Band

Hats off  to the Rosy and Barry for hosting such a tremendous event. All of you out there wish every joy to the happy couple Kathleen and Jonathan.

Happy couple

The flight from Okinawa to Shanghai is delayed  but no problem I have a 3 hour layover. When I try to transfer to the Paris flight in Shanghai things start to fall apart. “The flight is delayed! Go to desk F! Go through Immigration! Get transfer stamp in passport! Fill in landing form!”

Thank God for the English language.  Despite the fact that people in Chinese airports speak in the imperative, at least I understand what is on the critical path. I feel for Japanese visiting Europe or the US. What are the chances of airport staff speaking Japanese?

However we are not in Japan now. At the check in desk chaos reigns as groups of people walk to the front of the line and demand attention. We eventually learn that the flight has been delayed to the next day and there is a maelstrom of angry Chinese and French wanting satisfaction. These are two cultures not noted for their patience and equanimity and the resultant atmosphere is bad and deeply offensive to my osmosed Japanese sensibilities. We need a hotel voucher – people push, shove, shout at each other. Long wait until bus arrives whereupon people run to get on first and snarl.

We drive into Shanghai and fight each other at the hotel reception to get rooms.

Where we stay

Anyway we get a meal and I go for a stroll. This is fun. Midnight in who knows where in Shanghai. People eating, hanging out and buying fruit.

Pizza

Spotted Dick

Shanghaians buy fruit at midnight

At 4:00 the phone rings but no one speaks. I take it to mean, “Get down here!” Bus leaves at 5:00 and we are back in the airport. There are a bunch of people by a desk and in my state of paranoia I am magnetically drawn. They are giving out 400 huan in cash if you show them your boarding pass. Very nice thanks.

This is what it looks like

This is enough to buy a liter of Ardbeg that has miraculously found its way from Islay to an obscure corner of Shanghai airport. I realize just in time that you can no longer buy liquids in mid journey as they will be taken from you at the next security check. The image of having to hand over a liter of Ardbeg makes me shiver.

The flight finally takes off at 7:00ish. I am in seat 69 J. I have missed my connection in Paris.

Not sure if East China Airlines are a future  option. Maybe the food will be good.

What do you think?

There was an overwhelming response to my post on Japanese car names. The number of readers tripled. Maybe I have stumbled across a new market? Those who gain gratification from looking at photos of Japanese car name badges. Maybe I should set up a specialized pay site and make some money. In the mean time, enjoy while it is still free.

Whoar not half!

Not half!

Wabbit

You bet I did!

No Red Port Wine Left

I try and I try

More later.