The Quiet Ripple Defines The Pond

A reminder that this is my diary. I love looking back to see what I was doing, say 10 years ago and realizing what a pompous fool I was! Not much has changed. Anyway, read it if you want.

I now watch birds with my window open. I am amazed how usually skittish birds don’t seem to mind me sitting about 3 meters away. I have added a hummingbird feeder.

I have been given a job! I have to proofread and edit text for a yearbook. I love doing this. I sit on my couch in front of my wonderfully cosy gas fire and tinker away at the text. To my left is the open window through which I can spot and eventually photograph bird action. Such a good way to pass the time. I will also get paid real money as opposed to the money you see on web bank statements. I will spend all this real money on the best food and wines for one unforgettable meal with friends in Okinawa.

Topher and I drive down to SLAC to have lunch with Melinda. We worked together about 15 years ago. As soon as we get into the main building, people come up and hug and cry and ask for their money back. We have a wonderful time!

Shucks, so good to meet lots of old friends and realize that, although we may not have met for years, we still love one another.

Driving home, I ask Topher when his next trip will be.

“I go to Egypt on Sunday.”

“Where in Egypt?”

“Cairo.”

“Why?”

“I have to give a talk at COP27.”

I, on the other hand, go to Clement St to get some See’s Candy.

Clement is very Chinese.

The fish shop is full of middle aged Chinese ladies who are all pushing in and squabbling, all in Chinese of course. They remind me of Pygmy Nuthatches. One lady, who has just pushed in front of me and is shouting at the poor serving guy, turns to me when she sees me buying skate and in a very plummy English accent asks,

“Excuse me, what is that fish? I have never tried it?”

“It is skate.”

“How do you cook it?”

“Well, I sauté it in black butter and capers.”

“Do you think I could steam it?”

“I am sure you could.”

“Thank you so much. I has been very nice speaking to you.”

She then turns back to the poor server and lets him have it with both barrels in strident Chinese.

I lived in France in the 1990s. There were only 3 television channels; TF1, A2, France 3. Sometimes on France 3, as part of another show, there would be a cooking demonstration by a lady called Maïté. This was way before cooking shows became popular, way before cuisine minceur, way before popular veganism. Maïté https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maïté cooked old time food from Gascony. There are lots of her videos on YouTube. She relies heavily on meat, wine, armagnac and cream. She never measures quantities, she rarely uses a chopping board but prefers to cut stuff up in her hands Her accent is strong and her delivery verges on anger.

Here is Poule Farcie. It is a joy to watch. I have not been able to track down a poule in San Francisco. It is a hen in English. It is an older bird as distinct from a chicken, which is younger. There are many classic French dishes that need a poule, Poule au Riz, Pot au Feu for example. The bird is simmered for a long time. Today’s chickens would simply fall apart.

I mention Maïté as I have spent a lot of time lately staring out of the window. I have set up a bird feeder and whist checking on birds I also watch YouTube stuff, mainly Maïté.

The feeder was up for about a week before any birds showed up. Then a male Oregon Junco shyly appeared and began to feed. Next day his wife comes too. Notice paler head.

A couple of days later a Chestnut Backed Chickadee shows up.

It is tranquil; the birds do not fight.

Then a bird that I have never seen shows up – a Pygmy Nuthatch. Everything changes.

Within an hour, 8 of them completely take over. They chase off all the other birds fighting and squabbling incessantly. There cannot be many of these birds around here but within minutes the message of free food echoes around the Nuthatch population and they lay siege.

They swarm around the feeder, gorging and bickering. They empty the feeder twice in 2 days. How can such small birds eat so much?

Watching them is addictive. I have my window open and the feeder is only 3 meters from my Maïté couch. The birds seem unconcerned. A Nuthatch flies into my room but flies out again immediately.

A bit of local color before I return to the main narrative. I visit old friend Ken, who is an architect. He designed the Kavli building at SLAC when I was there and caramba when I got to OIST I found he was the architect for our amazing buildings.

He has a house on the coast just near Bean Hollow Beach.

We eat perfect Lengua Tacos in nearby Pescadero.

Anyway back to the birds, as I mentioned, Nuthatches swarmed the feeder.

Just as Maïté is about to eat an Ortolan https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SEPMuyGe7dg, a Nuthatch blasts through the window, through my rooms and into the apartment at large. I search but cannot find him, her, them. Immediately, the other Nuthatches disappear from the feeder and have not come back. How do they communicate?

Off I go to the wetlands North of Sacramento. The first of the goose migrators should be there by now and what greater pleasure than watching Snow Geese as the sun goes down, or comes up, for that matter.

It is 17:00hrs ish when I get there. Perfect timing as thousands geese are just flying in to settle for the night after a hard day’s munching.

The difficulty is where to sleep. It is very verboten to spend the night within the perimeter of the Sacramento Wildlife Reserve but legal campsites are a long way away. My aim is to get up before sunrise and watch as the geese take off on their hi-ho, hi-ho, it’s off to work we go, duty.

I drive over to neighboring Willows and have a perfect steak and chips dinner at the Black Bear Diner.

I sneak back into the wildlife preserve under the cover of darkness and set up in a remote corner. There is absolutely no one around. I have my alibi ready. ” I can’t stay here? Oh I am sorry. I am an old man and have dementia. I have also drunk half a bottle of wine and do not think it right to drink and drive. I will be gone by 06:30. I have an English accent. Have mercy etc etc.”

I have forgotten to bring a corkscrew so half my alibi is shot but no worries as no one interrupts my blissful slumber. Too blissful as the sun is rising as I stumble out of the camper.

The Snow Geese have already left! Not one to be seen. Damn. Still, there is lots of other stuff to see.

Wonderful!

I have always loved listening to stories. My happiest memories are of awful weather in Scotland; howling winds, lashing rain, impossible to go outside. We, however, are curled up snug on the sofa and armchairs, cuddling orphaned lambs, puppies, kittens as the coal fired Rayburn pumps out heat. For entire afternoons our Mother would read us stories; Masterman Ready, Midshipman Easy, The Call of the Wild, What Katy Did, The Arabian Nights, Bosambo of the River, Swallows and Amazons. As the years passed my Mother was less inclined to spend her time reading me stories and I had to read books on my own.

This I loved too and spent far too much time reading when I should have been playing with my children or paying attention to my wife. However a decade or so ago I started listening to audiobooks. What a revelation! Someone was reading me a story! All I had to do was put my thumb in my mouth and cuddle an orphaned lamb. I almost completely stopped reading. In fact the only thing I have read in the last 10-15 years is the Marine Quarterly.

I try to read but I soon lose concentration. I wonder what Ruby Tui is doing.

I go to YouTube to check on Ruby Tui stuff and before I know it, I am watching University Challenge or Hornblower or old rugby matches or cooking programs etc, etc.YouTube is the ultimate time waster.

I can no longer just read.

Anyway, I head South to Big Sur to try to find the huge Californian Condor. Such a great drive!

I am out for 2 days but do not spot a Condor. Nevertheless, there is of course tons to see.

California is endlessly amazing but will I ever read again?

The day has come when I try to be admitted into the noble brotherhood of E Clampus Vitus! Read all about them here. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/E_Clampus_Vitus

There is an all day initiation ceremony on Saturday the details of which are kept secret beforehand. On Friday afternoon, Bebo, Ron and I show up at the meadow in the hills above Half Moon Bay where the ceremonial will take place . Wonderful place overlooking the Pacific, however sea mist invades the campsite for most of the time we are there.

I am a PBC, Poor Blind Candidate and as such am treated with disdain by those who have earned the right to wear red. We get straight to it. I mean eating and drinking. I am given humiliating fetch and carry jobs and then set to opening hundreds of oysters.

There are about 50-60 of us camped out on the meadow. Dinner is oysters, pork chops and beans.

No one drinks wine but lash down quantities of spirits with various mixers.

We sit up drinking and talking late into the night. Remarkably I have drunk no alcohol for over a week due to extreme jet lag and dysentery. However I soon find my feet again. I crawl into the camper the worse for wear.

I am immediately enlisted to cook breakfast.

After breakfast we started the initiation tests. There are strict rules. We cannot look at our instructors and have to keep our eyes on the ground. It being Fall and Half Moon Bay being a center of pumpkinoculture, a lot of the exercises are based on pumpkin stuff. There is very strict supervision to make sure we do not spill seed on the ground.

We have two history lessons. The first is by the owner of the property, also a Clamper, who gives fascinating talk on the early days of Half Moon Bay.

Then the Emperor Norton himself, head of the  Mother Lodge Yerba Buena #1 Capitulus Redivivus, hopefully my chapter to be, takes over and provides a detailed history of E Clampus Vitus. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emperor_Norton

Here is a picture of the Emperor in everyday clothes.

We have to learn history. We have to learn several songs and Clamper sign language. We play bowling using pumpkins as bowling balls. This results in much spilt seed and fury from our invigilators. Each seed has to be picked up with all pumpkin interior sludge and dropped inside the costume of a mysterious character called The Frog.

We break for lunch.

Training completed, we are blindfolded and led in single file, each holding the shoulder of the man in front, into the ceremonial hall. We have to chant Clamper songs as we go and are derided by the 50 or so Clampers who are watching.

The final induction ceremony must remain a mystery, but it involves a ancient staff!

I make it! I am admitted! What an honor for a poor boy from Scotland!

Thanks E Clampus Vitus for accepting me, a foreigner, into your ranks. Such fun, with a refreshing rejection of healthy living!

There is an onslaught of heavy drinking after the ceremonial and dinner to come. I have to get back to the city that night and so do not join. One thing that Japan has taught me is Do not Drink and Drive.

The night before I leave, we go to the local izakaya.

I then eat my way across the Pacific in United Airlines business.

All of this eating took place in less than 24 hours! Well, you do gain a day flying East to West across the Pacific

Another typhoon passes by. Luckily the worst and it seems to be bad, goes well North of Okinawa.

Notwithstanding, there is a lot of wind and rain.

Lots of birds shelter from the wind.

Tim and Mary are leaving and return to London at the end of the month. Boo hoo! A party is thrown in their honour. It is great to see lots of old OIST buddies again. There is a 15ish piece brass dance band from the University of the Ryukyus. They are called Mojo and are fantastic but very, very loud. I have become increasingly uncomfortable in places with high volume noise, I mean music. It reminds me of the trenches.

Okinawa never ceases to surprise! To celebrate Arisa’s birthday, we go to a discrete French restaurant lost in a maze of tiny streets in Ginowan. I have never heard of this place. https://www.google.com/maps/place/Bistro+Lierre+Blanc+II/@26.2897859,127.7740442,1429m/data=!3m1!1e3!4m5!3m4!1s0x34e512dab78cf0dd:0x9ea4f5260552b726!8m2!3d26.2897569!4d127.7762284

We have a wonderful meal!

So unexpected. We have the best time!

Buying octopus is a lottery. You go to the fish market but there are none to be had. https://www.google.com/maps/place/Tomari+Fish+Market/@26.2299668,127.6780316,1428m/data=!3m2!1e3!4b1!4m5!3m4!1s0x34e56a2ad8b579c7:0x5f5e66c400a87fa1!8m2!3d26.229966!4d127.6806238

Then you go back a few days later and there are lots. I have not been able to establish a pattern.

I always feel so much better when there is a huge octopus in the freezer!

Title plagiarized from Tim Hunt.

A bunch of us head North on the kind invitation of Ichiro san and Tomomi san. I drive up very slowly and delight in the van loads of election canvassers who wave at everyone wearing both white gloves and huge smiles. Saturday was polling day for representatives of the local regions and also the Governor.

Tomomi and Ichiro produce another extraordinary meal in Ichiro san’s studio.

Ichiro san produces the main course, which he has been cooking for 4 days.

What an evening!

Next morning we leave at 05:30 to track down the elusive Okinawan Rail or Yanbaru Kuina in Japanese. It is one of the rarest birds in the world. Ichiro san immediately spots one roosting.

We return to the hotel for delicious Japanese breakfast.

Such fun!

So, a much vaunted typhoon pays a call. It blustered and rained a lot but not a real typhoon. Typhoons ain’t what they used to be.

However we were told to stay inside, which resulted in 3 days of non activity. The Finnish language has a verb that means to stay at home alone drinking in your underpants.

Anyway, after a while I head off looking for birds. They come onshore to shelter from the wind.

I have the ceramic crown cemented onto my inserts. The process has taken over a year because I have not been in Okinawa enough. Anyway, my thanks to Kinjo sensei and nurse Erica for their great work and bubbling humor.

We have a Japanese white wine tasting evening – great fun. First time I have drunk Japanese wine.

Ginowan city sends me a booklet of Hello Kitty vouchers worth 5000 yen. You can exchange the vouchers for anything you want in shops in Ginowan.

It continues to be drainingly hot and I do very little. Here are some random vignettes.

There is a lot of fruit around. The Japanese revere fruit. Its appearance seems as, if not more, important than the taste- er I think. Arisa san gives me a perfect bunch of Shine Muscat grapes from Imari, her hometown.

Talking of eating, I eat almost exclusively cold meals. Too hot for Jugged Hare.

Old friend Tomoko Saito http://tomokosaito.net and her husband, play Irish music in Yomitan. It is a bizarre event in many ways. They play outside so it is extremely hot and wear coats of many colors – not very Irish!

Their little girl frequently wanders up to her mother to show her something on a phone. No one is concerned. No one tries to pull her away and Tomoko just smiles and keeps playing. Admirable.

I got to know Tomoko way back in 2016. https://thequietripple.com/2016/11/27/tricolor/ . It is great to see her again. She is a wonderful musician.

I visit Tomari fish market.

Of course I go to the dentist a lot. It is a cheap hobby.