Shanghai - Some Final Thoughts

Today our meetings finished earlier than planned, so I went for a walk. In fact, I walked for seven hours.

I worked a grid around and through the core of Shanghai, and what a treat it was. I visited tourist centric areas and backstreet workshops; the newest highrise and the oldest slum and what I found everywhere where the same warn and friendly people.

I have to admit it, I love China.

The mystery and intrigue of the Chinese culture is part of it, but it’s mainly the people. These are a hard working but fun loving people and the energy that the city brings to them in mass I find irresistible.

I could go on but that’s not what I want to write about. There were three highlights today that fill my heart and mind, particularly in the light that tomorrow I go home.

The first highlight came when I walked down a side street that happened to turn into the music district of town. It contained row after row of retail shops that sell sort of modern and traditional Chinese musical instrument. It also contained dozens of shops where the instruments are made, and that was the prize.

As I made my way down the street little shops appeared where old and skilled craftsmen labored over small benches to create the magical things that create music. I entered a shop where a man was working the wood of a GuQin (Goo Kin) a seven stringed zither and another man was polishing a recently finished Guzheng made of beautiful fine grained wood with what looked to be about 20 strings. Both instruments were among dozens of violins, violas, cellos and other instruments that were wonderful to see and admire. One of the men motioned to me to come closer and look. As I did he held one of the finished instruments and began to play. I sat enchanted and pleased as the music filled my ears. It was then, as my eyes made their way around the room and stopped at a viola that Rebecca, my dear youngest daughter filled my mind.

Rebecca is a gifted musician and could pick up a violin or viola and make music without effort. I allowed myself to see her sitting in this musical wonderland and serenade me into paradise. Rebecca is one of those people who is simply a gift to the planet. She makes friends fast and has the largest, sweetest heart one can find. My heart was lifted as I spent that time with her in my imagination.

The second highlight was walking through the NanJing road, which is a very busy tourist area. It’s a wide street closed to automobiles and open to TONS of people wondering in and out of what seems to be thousands of little shops. But there are also a variety of things going on to entertain you along the way. Puppeteers, clowns, musicians and singers compete for a few minutes of your attention and perhaps, a few coins from your pocket.

One very sweet girl stood out as she sang a tune from classic opera rather than trying to mimic a whiny-voiced pop star. The effect on the crowd was stunning. As she sang the throng stood in their place and listened intently. Her voice was pure and welled trained and she held her audience captive.

Once again my mind wondered home and I saw my sweet Elizabeth. A singer and dancer that loves Broadway and classic vocals, Elizabeth is a beautiful young woman with incredible talent. Hearing her sing lifts my spirit and fills me with joy. I closed my eyes and saw her bright smile as she stood on stage and the music took me home.

The third highlight was the best. I’ll bet I walked 10 miles today through the city. And I only got lost once. Well, it wasn’t really lost, since you can navigate my locating the skyscrapers I simply lost tract of my landmark and made a wrong turn… or was it?

I found myself cutting through the central Shanghai Park to get back on course. It was about 4:00pm and the afternoon crowds had come in for yoga, the park was filled with young and old doing their exercises and yoga.

In the chaos of this wild city here is utter peace and calm. Many young and middle aged folks and families were there, but mostly older men and women came to socialize, stretch and exercise. I walked among the folks and received many smiles and nods, but as I passed one group of eight elderly men and women practicing yoga a man invited to stop and join them by motioning at me and pointing at the ground next to him. I accepted the offer and took my place.

The group, led by this kind man was stretching and reaching for the sky in smooth, rhythmic motions as if dancing and romancing the air all at once. I began to relax as I followed his every move, as did the others. In silence we slowly moved and breathed and again my mind went home.

Then, he held out his hands in front of him as if holding a ball or globe about the size of a beach ball. He closed his eyes and began to move that ball all around his body, over his and up into the sky. The group followed the example and so did I. I closed my eyes I held my imaginary globe ever so carefully and moved it around my body and over my head. As I moved I felt relaxed and at peace, accepted and welcome by these strangers on the opposite side of the world. The sound of horns and motors faded and the sound of water and birds came to my ears for the first time since getting off the plane. Air filled my lungs deep and refreshed my tired body, and trees and flowers filled my mind.

I stopped and opened my eyes which, out of pure release of anxiety, had teared up. What I saw were all the others quietly smiling at me, and two of them had teared up also. It was in their warmth and in their smile that I saw my dearest Lauren, warmly smiling at me.

We stood in a frozen moment free of time and circumstance, pain and distraction, politics and culture and enjoyed just being human and alive, and Lauren was there with me.

I love the adventure of travel and exploring new lands and people, but it pains me to be away from my sweet wife and dearest friend. Her love and companionship is my greatest joy, her friendship my greatest strength.

It was her smile that came to me 6000 miles away from home through those folks, and somehow I think they knew what they were doing. I thanked them for letting me join then, not in words, but with my eyes. Their eyes said I was welcome, and I continued back to the hotel.

I will be sad to leave here, with so much to learn and so much to share. But my heart longs for home, and for Lauren.

So tomorrow I go home, for home IS where the heart is…

My heart is with my Lauren, and that is home indeed.


 

Miscellaneous Reflections on Shanghai

One of the more popular tourist areas of Shanghai is the area called the “Bund.” It is the waterfront area along the HuangPu River made famous in Steven Spielberg’s wonderful film “Empire of the Sun.” The high rise hotels and expensive shops are mixed among the historical buildings that were built during the late 19th and early 20th century during the height of Shanghai’s international popularity. In the Spielberg movie the Japanese invasion of Shanghai of 1937 is depicted with brutal accuracy and all shot right here in the streets where it occured.

It’s very fun to move through this area in the evenings as wall to wall people navigate the rivers edge and see the sites. Street vendors of all sorts have little stands, kiosks or just carry their offerings to sell to the masses. Everything from tourist photos to what appears to be dried meat on a stick- Sorry, not a chance of that entering my digestive system!

The historical buildings all have placards in Chinese and English saying what the buildings were and when they were built. Most were built by the Europeans when they made Shanghai their window to the East. Restaurants and nightclubs line the rooftops of these structures overlooking the wharf. In a weird way I love dining on the rooftops, the view is amazing but the real significance for me is the story behind them. It was on the rooftops that the Chinese army had planned to defend their city against the Japanese invasion. Troops and snipers carefully planned to wipe out the Japanese troops as they marched into the city from the protective shelter and high vantage point rooftops of these 6,7, and 8 story buildings.

What the Chinese didn’t anticipate is that the Japanese were no fools and had planted sleeper cells days and in some cases weeks before the invasion. These small units of infantry would hide out in planters or under piles of trash and laundry and wait for the Chinese army to take up their position. When the time came during the invasion the poor Chinese on the rooftops were cut down immediately and without mercy. Now, here I sit and flag the waiter for another glass of wine. It’s all very dramatic.

Across the river from the Bund is the area known as PuDong. This is one of the most photographs city-scapes in the world with it’s giant “TV” tower and observation globe and the enormous 88 story Hyatt hotel towering in the background. From the top of the Hyatt observation deck the city stretches in all directions as an ocean of mid and high rise structures. Assuming it’s a clear day, it is one of the more remarkable sites I’ve ever seen.

But in the midst of the PuDong area stands a large structure that resembles a sporting stadium. Large and bulky, this wide and 8 story structure captures your eye right away from any perspective. Only upon closer examination (or asking someone who knows) you come to find out this is a shopping mall beyond any except the Mall of America in the eastern US.

Inside is an engineering marvel. 8 stories tall and yet a wide open highly stylish interior of stone and marble it is nothing short of shopping Mecca. Escalators crossing wide open spaces with restaurants and stores packed with every brand name you can think of, thus the name of the mall is “Super Brand Mall” On the 7th floor is a 6 screen movie theatre that holds Shanghai’s first and premier Digital Cinema installation that I worked on a year ago. This theatre uses high powered digital projectors to project the movie onto the screen rather than traditional film projectors, something the US is still trying to implement.

Funny Observations: Street Vendors

It just cracks me up walking around here. Being a white, 6’-2” American automatically makes me a big target for anything being sold on the street. In the half mile from the hotel to dinner last night I was approached by no less than TWENTY vendors (at least that’s when I stopped counting) that included, but not limited to, the following:

Watches; OK, I know I’m cheap (that’s for Lauren) and I wear a twenty dollar Timex. But really, I don’t need a fake Rolex on my wrist. I don’t even want a fake Timex, I not THAT cheap! It’s the classic seen of a man or woman approaching and saying, “Mister! You want buy best watch?” and opening a coat or rolling up sleeves and revealing 10 watches on each arm.

Pirate DVD’s; Being in the DVD business I hate to see the thousands of discs on the street here. All of varying (but watchable) quality, they have them with days and sometimes hours!) of the release in theatres in the US. It’s pretty funny to ask for a movie they don’t have displayed. Somewhere close by is a car or van FILLED with discs. As things go flying they will come up with the movie you mention. This is a powerful and amazing network. The bottom line is I’m not going to buy one, it just goes against my nature.

Purses; Fortunately for my wallet, Lauren is not into Prada, or any other of the super-trendy leather purses or products. If she were, cheap little me would have scored big time. Name the brand, and the copy is here in volume. While walking along the assault is continuous, as soon as you shack vendor #1, #2 is on you right away. I just can’t figure out why they do this. They literally just watched me shake the last guy or girl, and they make the move to get in there and make the next move. It makes no sense whatsoever, do they think I’m going the change my mind in the 15 feet I’ve traveled since the last guy?

Tactics for dealing with the vendors make up a bizarre sort of game. The word “No!” just doesn’t cut it. It the time it takes me to say “No,” these nice folks have moved in front of me, started their next pitch, blocked my escape, often grabbed my arm and/or shoved product in front of me. I’ve discovered a few really helpful methods to get away from them.

1. Just say “No” and say it about 50 times really fast while they try to shove stuff at you. Eventually they get it and leave you alone, only for the next guy to move in and start from scratch.
2. Say “No” and wave your hands furiously in a negative way. The key here is has to be an emotional act with lots of body language. This will immediately repel about 60% of the vendors. For the rest, #’s 3 and 4 below are the only hope.
3. I call this one the “Cutoff” and it’s my favorite tactic. As the vendor is walking/running at your pace and attacking your senses, accelerate and move toward some solid object like a street light pole, power pole, building edge or even a group of people. This is down right hilarious to watch. Last night, a very relentless guy was pawning watches to me so intensely that he didn’t notice I was guiding him (he was now walking backwards and holding watches out to me) towards a billboard post. WACK! He stooped dead in his tracks and I was free. I also guided a very nice Chinese woman right into a crowd of Italians. I enjoyed that one immensely.
4. The ultimate weapon is a serious one and not to be used lightly. Caution must be exercised as it can backfire if used by the un-skilled. I call it “Nuts” and it simply involves convincing folks that you are too crazy to buy anything. In fact, you’re too crazy to even try. Here’s how it works…
When the vendor eyes you and starts his approach, you stop in your tracts and scream at a moderate voice (full volume isn’t needed, they get the point) and make like your nuts. They will turn and run for their lives. Last year I tried this as a man was approaching with an arm loaded with purses. At about 10 feet I yelled at him, “Hey, don’t even come over here. I’ll die if I buy a purse. I’m from California and it’s against the law to buy purses in China if you are from California!” The more dramatic you can be with this the better and this guy took off like he’d seen a ghost. I bet it will work every time as no one wants to associate with a nut case.

Funny Observations: Food

I must admit, I try to keep an open mind when traveling. I love immersing myself into a culture and people. But I tell you, you just have to set limits. This gives a whole new meaning to the idea of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.” I’ve eaten things just today that I simply have no idea what they were, and so far I live to tell the story.

Many times I cannot read the name or even identify the food. So I 9and a few friends that I travel with) come up with our common “pet” names for food:

1. Everyone has heard of Peking Duck, but the one we had today we could only categorize as “Hit-by-a-truck-duck.” How did we know it’s duck? Because the head was on the plate!
2. “Too Fresh Beef” for those of you who like stew, this is for you. Only I swear the cow was still moving.
3. “Has to be a veggie” I know this started in the ground as the dirt was still on the root. It looked rather good, but seeing the soil soiled my appetite.
4. “Still Kickin’ Chicken” EVERYONE passed this up. Even the locals said, “Shouldn’t that cook a little more?”
5. “Really Spicy Octopus” Guess what? It’s REALLY spicy (I’m still crying)
6. “What-Ta-Heck-is-That” It’s obvious that at one time in the recent pass it either wiggled or crawled in the ocean. Now it’s just dead and on a plate.
7. “Goosh” Sort of like rice soup meets engine oil.
8. “Crunchy Prawn” That’s actually what the sign said next to it. It’s like potato chips made out of shrimp-like creatures. No one knew, or wanted to know how.
And last, but not least…
9. “Stuff” when you really DON’T want to know what it is, you say, “Please pass the stuff.”

Less of an issue is the street food vendors, who waive things at you like you will just stop dead in your tracks and chow down. Most this stuff smells so bad it’s all you can do to navigate out of the immediate area fast enough. Some of the stuff on the street looks good, but then you notice that the fellow cooking it hasn’t washed his knife since 1987 and you loose your interest.

In the restaurants is where the real challenge begins. Most menus outside the core tourist areas are not in English, not even McDonald’s. It’s basically point and motion to what you want. This is fun when you walk in and see the aquariums lining the restaurant walls and point to “That one”

In China there are basic rules as to what you can eat. If it lives in the water and wiggles, you can eat it. If it lives in the water and crawls, you can eat it. If it grows in the ground, you can mash it up and eat it. If it crawls on the ground, you can eat it. If it walks on two or four legs, you can eat it. Seems that just about everything that grows or moves can be eaten… if you are relatively brave. Then there is the all important rule of…

If it’s slimy, it’s good; If it’s really slimy, it’s really good!

It is interesting to observe that for the most part the Chinese people seem generally healthier and in better condition than folks in the West. Few are overweight, and the elderly seem much more active. I used to resent product campaigns that appeal to the Chinese diet to enhance lifespan or lifestyle, but the evidence seems to support that there is something here.

That’s it for now, I’m going to bed!




 

Shanghai

It was a LONG 27 hours to get here. To save the company money I agreed to take a connection flight out of Vancouver B.C. Canada. This normally would be a fine thing to do were it not for the 3 hour delay after waiting in the terminal for 5 hours. China Eastern airlines offered to upgrade me to first class which I accepted gladly. That, at least, made the pain more manageable.

Arriving in Shanghai is simply a sensory experience that can quickly overload a person. It is crowded and noisy and people are just everywhere. The noise of all the vehicles combined with the endless droning of people laying their horns for no apparent reason can make you crazy.

The skyline is an endless sea of 15~18 story mid-rise apartments, condos and business until you reach the mid-town area where they increase to 20~80 story state-of-the-art modern high rises. All the major world technology and industry companies are here, and each street corner is a mini-Times Square, with lighted signs and video walls that Las Vegas would be envious of.

The traffic can give you a heart attack if you don’t learn to cope with it quickly. Seeing cars, bicycles, scooters, and motorcycles competing for the same 8 foot lane width as trucks and buses is down right comical to watch. Somehow pedestrians must navigate this mess if they leave the safety of the sidewalk and get from point A to point B. But you’d better watch out, motorcycles and scooters use the sidewalk as a passing lane, and they use them at nearly full speed.

To maneuver in traffic, the basic rule whoever’s bumber has a ½ inch advantage has the right of way (if you can call it that) and the idea of “yielding” simply doesn’t exist. Yet, few people seem to take it personally when the other guy wins out. In L.A., changing lanes too close to someone means anything from being flipped off to having a Starbucks cup thrown at you to gunshots.

The other thing that immediately grabs your attention in Shanghai are the MASSIVE billboards and marketing efforts. For years I believed that when coming to China, with decades of Communism ruling over the populous, the last thing you’d expect to see is capitalism gone amuck. Walking through the streets around my hotel I was once again amazed at the intensive materialism this culture has embraced in such a short time. In the central parts of the city every street is lined by high end shops selling their goods. Department store that would put Sears to shame (and Macy’s by the way)

As an example of the changes here, this evening after our business meetings I wondered a few blocks and found not one, but several, large department stores that have all been built within the last couple of years. I entered and I have to say, it blew my mind. This was a seven story store with each floor offering it’s specialty of men’s cloths, womens cloths, etc.. Mind you, one entire floor was for women’s cosmetics and the display and support staff were top notch all the way. Each of the seven floors were about as big as an average size supermarket. Oh, by the way, the supermarket was in the basement and was stocked comparably to the market near my home in California.

As I continued my journey I found four more of this size in a relatively small radius around the area. Incredible to say the least, it is no wonder that American (and, in fairness, all international brands) are very anxious to get into this “emerging market”.

The other side of the coin is that three blocks away there is the “typical” street scene of small dirty shops and sidewalk vendors that sell their goods to the masses. The contrast is staggering.

There are deals everywhere. A good, multi-course restaurant meal will cost about $10. A reasonable fast food meal can be had for about $2.00. An ice cream cone at McDonald’s is $.20. I can’t remember ever paying that in the U.S. Goods are about 30~50% of the prices at home.

One of the more amusing things to take in is all the aquariums in the restaurants. Some really pretty displays set a really nice atmosphere as you enter. Then it hits you, the aquariums are the menu for tonight’s meal. As soon as you done admiring that lovely eel, then you order it up well done!

The official Communist propaganda line is that every one in China has a job. When you look around this city of 17.5 million you still see a lot of homeless and beggars, but overall the number seems low compared to Los Angeles. Of course, the bulk of the jobs cover the low end of the scale. Street sweepers and window washers are everywhere. I saw three people polishing the gate of a small business.

The other line is that there is no crime. I guess it depends on how you define “Crime” but in fairness the overall crime rate is low. It’s the criminal underground that thrives in a culture like this. Drugs, prostitution, and other vice activity is on the increase in alarming rates.

There are few other indicators of Communism here. The Chinese government must retain at least a 51% ownership of all business (usually much more, sorry Wal-Mart) and every company must have a Communist Party Official on its board of directors.

For the average person, particularly in the larger cities, Communism is a formality that has little impact. As long as you don’t talk about religion or say anything (and I mean anything) contrary to the government, you can just float by and go shopping.

Sometimes I wonder if our beloved freedoms of democracy will fall into the same complacency.



 

Reflections on the Southwest – Final Thoughts (for now)

I am a native Californian, that is, I am a native SOUTHERN Californian, meaning that I live in perpetual hot summers, one or two days of “Winter” a year (Oh look honey, rain drops are almost hitting the ground!) continual smog, relentless dry winds, impossible to work sandy-clay soil, outrageously overpriced housing, overcrowded freeways, never a parking space at the market, and last but not least, the view out my window is of my neighbors house all of ten feet away.

That is the essence of southern California living. The fringe benefits are the beaches, the mountains, the deserts, the job market, Hollywood (and the wonderful career it has provided me for 30 years) the shopping, and the ever entertaining people that live here representing every sort of human possible.

I absolutely LOVE southern California…

I absolutely can’t wait to get ta’hell OUT of southern California!

One of the things I have been wonderfully blessed with in my adventures in the Hollywood entertainment industry is the opportunity to travel all over this amazing planet. Almost entirely due to business travel, I have seen the worlds most beautiful and fascinating places. There are still a few more I’d like to see, but the basic list is this:

Mexico City and Acapulco, Mexico: Belated honeymoon (sort of) and our very first adventure. Gave us the foundation and reinforced the idea that travel can be more than fun.

London, and many areas of Great Britain including Dover, Leeds, Stratford Upon Avon, Liverpool, Bath, and Brighton, just to name the ones I remember right off.

Paris: Remarkable is such an unfair word for this dramatic city.

Cairo, Egypt: Cruising down the Nile River with Lauren and exploring the history of this fabulous region will always be one of my most beloved memories. For seven days the ancient world opened its arms to us and embraced our hearts and imagination like nothing else.

Athens and Rhodes, Greece: Wow! Energy and ancient history mixed with romance, what else can one say? Rhodes, island in the Mediterranean and, my oh my, those beaches!

Osaka Japan: Industrialization like nowhere else. A veritable beehive of activity 28 hours a day!

Tokyo, Japan: Osaka on steroids!

Stockholm, Sweden: In winter this city is beautiful beyond compare. I was so fascinated to be here in winter when the sun peeks over the horizon for only three hours a day. All the people filed into the streets at lunch time to merely stand there and soak in the bright, warming rays as long as they could. Then rush back into houses and offices to warm up!

Amsterdam, Netherlands: Rembrandt’s home, the beautiful canals, and the remarkable architecture. I loved it and the visit to Anne Frank’s house left me in tears for hours. Yet, this eerie pervasive feeling of moral and spiritual bankruptcy hangs over the entire city.

Brussels, Belgium: Charming, simply charming!

Beijing, China: Mystery and transformation mark this culture that slowly and cautiously exits communism and embraces the west. Density of city living that is very intense and energetic. Outside the tourist areas Mao suits are still seen, but in fewer numbers. Where bicycles were curb to curb on the road because no one could afford cars 10 years ago, Mercedes sedans now honk and maneuver. Delightful people but very cautious to speak freely lead you into a cultural heritage that grips the senses on every street. Simply mind boggling!

Shanghai, China: Stunning in beauty, incredible in numbers of people and the densely populated city they call home. In order to visit the film labs here I had to pass through most devastating poverty I’ve ever seem in person. Yet, there was an open and friendly people that greeted me on every level. My highlight was visiting the Shanghai Film Studios where “Kung Fu Hussle” was filmed and visiting with the director. Struggling through an insurmountable language barrier the common love of films and film making bound us together in mutual admiration. What a blast!

Seoul, South Korea: The world’s hardest working and friendliest people are crammed into the world’s third densest city. The amazing thing it is spotless and safe anywhere you go. Absolutely delightful but sadly, the cultural heritage was stripped away from these people by wars with Japan and communist China/ North Korea.

Florence, Italy: Art and culture, food and wine, history and those amazing Tuscan hillscapes. OK, ‘nuff said!

Rome, Italy: Oh my, I have to say as sad as I was that Lauren was not here the utter thrill of walking through the streets of the ancient city is beyond compare. I stopped at the threshold of a Roman house and filled my eyes with the remnants of history’s greatest city. My eyes closed and I swear I could hear the footsteps of Roman solders on the roadway. Children played as their mothers exchanged goods at the marketplace. In the distance a senator approached and saluted Caesar as the emperor paraded past. This place and Egypt seem to transport one 2000 years back it time without effort. I must go back here, but next time Lauren will be there also.

There were also North American cities and places of great interest and charm. New York, Toronto, Hawaii, Washington DC, and Miami among them. Gettysberg still haunts me, and San Fransico still makes me nervous to drive in.

But I can tell you this, among all these places, with all their charm, mystery and fascinating stories, only one place called to me and said, “Home”

Indians and bank robbers, settlers and miners, the people who pass through the southwest corner of Colorado all have the same reaction… Wow!

This area to me is simply to idyllic place to live. All four seasons, but in they occur in moderation. Endless areas to explore by a multitude of ways: Bikes, car, motorcycle, ATV, 4 wheel drive, ski, snow shoe, or simply on foot the appeal of the San Juan Mountains is the most compelling force I’ve experienced yet.

Lauren and I look forward to many adventures as we move into the next stage of our LIFE (singular on purpose) together. But the place we find so wonderfully appealing, stunningly beautiful and so welcoming to our soul, is the place we will call “Home.”

‘Nuff said!





 

The Wild Wild West

I grew up on John Wayne and Cowboys vs. Indians and most of the time the cowboys won and I loved it. In our modern times we have finally seen the reality that it wasn’t the Indians that were the bad guys, but indeed it was often the cowboys.

I can’t say if we’ll ever know the truth of all that happened in that strange period of American history, nor will there ever be justice fully served. But the raw beauty and ruggedness of this region speaks volumes of what life must have been like for anyone that tried to survive here.

In Capital Reef National Park there is a wonderful example of this. Some have called this park the best kept secret of the National Park Service. Located in the southern central region of Utah, it’s marked by deep canyons and winding rivers that carve a path through the earth’s surface that has been overlapped and wrinkled by the movement of massive continental plates.

Driving through the park we came across a sign that says, “Petraglyphs Ahead”
We pulled into the parking area and ventured up a small walkway and there at the base of a gigantic limestone cliffs were the etchings of a desert people long ago. The symbols were easy to detect of humans hunting animals and, in another place what seems to be a series of portraits, increasingly sized figures in a sort of ceremonial dress.

It’s actually sort of funny to see all these folks from various parts of the world pull up in their cars, campers and motorhomes, park and scramble up the path to snap a photo of the symbols scrapped painstakingly into the stone faces of the cliffs.

I wonder what these ancient people who battled the land to survive from day to day would think of the strange alien creatures that emerge from their air-conditioned cocoons to point their magic imaging devices at the rocks and then disappear into the strange metal transporters again.

The glyphs speak of a life of extremes. Hunting, fishing, finding wood to build shelter then watching as flood waters washed them away. Irrigating the land, harvesting and then storing the food in hand made clay pots for a time they knew was coming when the crops wouldn’t be there. Hot, dry summers followed by hot, dry winters.

A mile down the road stands a one room mud brick and stone house that was built by the early Mormon pioneers who were charged with settling the area, farming and preaching to the Indians. The people of the petraglyphs were long gone but their descendants remained and having survived the Indian Wars wanted nothing more than to work the land and raise their families.

The ranch house had a fireplace at one end and one window. The wood door allowed the father, mother and their NINE children to pass through. How this family of 11 people lived in this tiny little house is much more interesting to me than the etchings down the road, but they both speak of the utter hardship that living in this area must have been.

A few miles further, there were more houses, a schoolhouse (complete with chalkboard slates still on the desks) and a barn. Amazing images of a life that few folks that live in the U.S. today can relate to.

It seems that each etching, each house, and each rock had a story to tell. Suffering and hardship; joy and celebration. Some see this area as spiritual, others as mystical, still others as anthropological data. But I find it just simply fascinating. It’s filled with history, drama and wonder.

I just love this area with its remoteness and rugged beauty. It’s so entirely different than the city dwellings I’ve known and lived in my whole life.

Maybe one day the archeologists will excavate my home. They’ll uncover my iPod, sift through my collection of various Mac’s and PC’s, look at the rectangular glow box called a TV and the cryptic stack of remote controls on my coffee table and wonder what it all meant. People will climb out of their transporters and stand and look at the strange way I lived and wonder how I did it, they’ll take a picture and leave.

Then, one will come and just stand there and quietly look at the remnants of my life and say, “Who were you? What was life like for you?” and most important, they’ll ask, “What can you teach me?”







 

Reflections on the Southwest Part 1 of 3 (I think)

After our last vacation through the western states and parks I really wanted to write an ongoing journal of our events and my thoughts about them. That didn’t really work because, well, I was just too tired. So I am now going to try and write some thoughts in retrospect of what we experienced.

Mesa Verde, Colorado.

One of the most remarkable places in the southwest (literally in the extreme southwest corner of the state of Colorado) is Mesa Verde National Park. For anyone interested in the life and legacy of the Native American Indian and the Anasasi or Pueblo Indians, this is the place to spend most of your time in awe.

The area itself is fascinating. Rugged, dry, and marked by rock covered mountains that form into long fingers of plateaus and mesas that stretch far into the desert. The short scrub brush and low growing hardwood trees dot the landscape. The steep climbing mountains gain elevation rapidly as they stretch into the long mesas that create picturesque valleys in between them. Its tough country and living here would be tough for anyone.

In those valleys formed by the mesas the cliff walls have crumbled away over the centuries to form large arched shaped alcoves that extend anywhere from 10 to 50 foot into the stone walls. It is these canyon walls that the Anasazi Indians left their legacy for us to enjoy and ponder. In doing so, they leave more questions than answers.

Approaching the area you are first encountered the ruins of the “Pit Houses.” These are dwellings and ceremonial structures that are dug into the flat earth on top of the mesas. They buried about two-thirds of these dwellings underground. They then built the roofs to appear as mounds of dirt over them and then left a whole in the center of the roof for a single ladder to enter and exit the dwelling. Inside these pit houses earthen or stone partitions were used to set aside storage antechambers from living areas. All this occurred about 700 A.D. by a people who worked this rough soil and hunted these woods for food and struggled to raise their families.

Somewhere around 1100-1200 these peoples discovered that the natural archways of the alcoves created a certain amount of shelter from elements and enemies and the decision was made to move onto the cliffsides. This is where the awesome wonder of this area begins to come into play. I’m not an archeologist or an anthropologist, but I find it extremely interesting to look at these areas and ask some really simply questions:

Who came up with the idea of a brick?
Who figured out that a lintel would stop the bricks from collapsing in the window?
Who, by the way, thought of the window?
How did the idea of building multiple stories of house come about? I mean really, who said “let’s stack houses up!”
For about 300 years one story was all they knew, did someone suggest it and simply build it? Was it copied from someone else? If so, who and where?
Why build above ground when you would only build below ground for the last 3 centuries?
Why build in the cliffs with the risk and danger when the mesa was so nice and flat?

These questions began to fill my mind and not go away. Other questions came also, mostly about lifestyle:

How do you get food and water into the cliff houses?
How do you keep your small (or large) children from falling into the canyon?
Do children, pregnant women, and elderly folks really climb those tiny little ladders and edge their way along the cliffside?

It is speculated that the community of folks that lived in the dwellings (perhaps eighty or one hundred at each group of homes) were rather social and held large group religious ceremonies and collective gatherings. The support mechanism must have been wonderful to watch.

It is an area that is truly wonderful to just sit and look at and think about. My imagination wants to project myself right into their community, to see and feel their life and appreciate all that they had to cope with and compare it to our current “Stresses” of life.

What is also interesting is the fact that as I looked at these marvelous structures I couldn’t help but to realize the timelines involved. If these folks built these simple and crude structures around 1200 A.D. it is fascinating to realize that at the same time in Europe folks were building Florence and Venice Italy and the flying buttress design of cathedrals was in full force. A thousand years earlier Rome was at it’s creative peak and 3000 years earlier the Egyptians were putting the polishing touches on the great Pyramid of Cheops.

It makes one wonder. What triggers the human mind to create? What needs in a society nudge the collective community to change directions and improvise and say, “Look, it’s a brick! Stack them and we can put two houses on the same soil!”

Take a look a at Lauren Gale ’s blog entry "Invalid Entry"  for photos of these Indian structures. See if you would want to live here or what you would suggest after "The Brick"


 

Road Trip 2006 day 3 ~12?

Well, there are two many things to say about these last days. But I must at least try to summarize a few things, pardon my abbreviated entries…

Day 3 The Grand Canyon Bike Ride ~ Perfection

There have been a few days in my life (that I can actually remember) that I would call perfect and today was one of them.

The last one was several years ago on Christmas day with all the family together. It was a perfect day also. By perfect I mean that the day brought absolute joy and I participated without any negative emotions or reactions, no matter what the circumstances brought my way.

We started with a good breakfast, a short drive to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, picking a place to park and getting the bikes ready. I tell you, most days would have brought some kind of stress and tension already, but not today.

The initial climb from the parking area to the first view of the Canyon was strenuous, but well worth the effort. For as long as I can remember, the vistas of the Canyon have captivated my soul. Even as a young boy visiting with my parents I have loved sitting and looking across that great expanse and marveling at the remarkable nature of it. I’ll even confess that a amazing as it is to fly over it (backwards of course) viewing from the edge is still the best experience.

Riding next to the rim for mile after mile is simply breath taking. It seems so alive! Every few feet the change in perspective seems to make the experience brand new. The light and shadow masterfully painting the drama of the stone and rock pitted against river below and sky above.

As we rode and occasionally stopped to take it in the view my mind and imagination filled in the silence with its own music. A symphony that only I could hear, composed of the visual splendor that lay before me.

After returning to the visitor area we had lunch and browsed some shops. This is always a fun time for us taking in the wonderful southwest art available everywhere in this part of the country.

Then, before returning to the hotel, we stopped at a side road that had a sign pointing to a bike path through the forest around the Canyon.

This was the icing on the cake. We rode for three more hours through woods and rocks and in and out of river beds. Fire roads that reached deep into the forest enriched our senses of aromas and sights that few see in this area. How ironic that there is so much more to see here in addition to the Canyon, but most folks come, look into the great gulf in the earth’s crust, and then depart without exploring the wild areas so close by.

We returned to the hotel in silence. The sweet feeling of total satisfaction contrasted against utter exhaustion led us to a quiet but delicious dinner and then falling asleep snuggled together.

I last thing I remember before entering dreamland is looking over at Lauren (who already was asleep and had the most peaceful look to her) and thinking that this was a perfect day; a day where adventure, exercise and love culminated in fun and joy. I was so glad to have experienced it, and so glad to have shared it with her.



 

Road Trip August 2006 Day 1 and 2

Day 1

Mission Parameters: Escape from reality for 13 days with wife and bicycles to travel across western states, occasionally riding your bikes in places that most people wouldn’t. Whilst on this mission, engage secondary mission of stopping at Condo in Colorado and finish remodeling, but not to the extent of loosing sight of main mission.

Mission Goal: Have as much fun as possible, spend as little as possible. Rest as must as reasonable, pretend life should always be like this.

Challenge: Uncover the global conspiracy to sabotage mission directives.

Our vacation this year is a 13 day driving and bike riding tour around the southwest. Even though August can be a brutally hot month in this area, the temperatures this year have been relatively mild.

The trip started Friday night after one of the most stressful days ever at work. Somehow that always seems to be the case, as if the message is “Before you have fun, you’re really gonna suffer!” is being broadcast right into my brain.

Driving out of L.A. at 8:30pm always amazes me. There are so many cars on the road it is mind boggling. Just when you think a city would be winding down and going to bed, everyone in L.A. is just getting home from work and they all have an attitude (and it shows!)

So we make it to Barstow where we pull into the Holiday Inn Express. Let me just say at this point that there is no “Holiday” in Holiday Inn and the express part leaves one wondering what they mean. I have never slept in more uncomfortable bed or noisy room.

The family on one side had the TV so loud you could here down the hallway and, being that the walls seemed to be imported from Japan and made of paper, we heard every detail.

The fellow on the other side of us (who I believe was alone) seemed to think that talking on a cellphone at 5:00am in the morning was something that everyone really wanted to share. He obviously had one of those resonating voices that can be used as a weapon to break eardrums if we are ever invaded.

Why is it that on the days that you want to just cruise and unwind before a big trip EVERYTHING seems to come at you? This is where I become aware of the bizarre conspiracy that was perfectly planned to send my blood pressure right into the ozone.

Day 2

Besides the fellow with the attack voice practicing at 5:00am, the continuing signs of a conspiracy to thwart our vacation continue. The breakfast at a fast-food place that dares use the word “King” about burgers is definitely no royalty when it comes to breakfast… YUCK! It was the worst thing I’ve ever eaten that could even be remotely called a “Breakfast Sandwich.” What a disappointment that was.

But I knew things would get better as we hit the road again and continued our trek to reach the Grand Canyon. Little was I aware that those danged conspirators were close behind.

Shortly outside of Kingman, Arizona (Hmm… another King that doesn’t apply) we heard a very strange noise. The noise sounded as if air were rushing from… Uh Oh, a tire!

We stopped for gas and there was the little culprit. The tire on my mountain bike (Oh, excuse me, my BRAND NEW mountain bike) was hanging too low behind the car and the exhaust pipe of the car burned right through the tire and melted the inner tube AND the rim liner.

“No problem” I declared confidently. “We’ll stop in Williams Arizona and buy a new tire before heading up to the Grand Canyon.” Lauren looked at me at nodded. I think she was in on planning the conspiracy that included the fact that the only bike shop in Williams closed two years ago. So we drive 45 miles out of our way to Flagstaff, Arizona. Flagstaff is a delightful little town that has a charming downtown historic area. The bike shop there was outside the scope of the conspiring folks stalking me, so we bought a new tire, tube and rim liner for the bike.

We’re off to the Grand Canyon and by golly, nothing is going to stop us from our ride around the rim of that incredible site tonight… except that Lauren’s tire on her bike is flat!

There is a little thorn that has been in the tire for weeks, and just today decided it would puncture the tube. Kudos to the person, or persons, who planned all this to rain on my parade, the thorn thing was a nice touch!

So it’s too late to ride and we are tired. What do we do? We jump into a helicopter and take a 40 minute tour of the canyon that is simply remarkable. You might be asking “What idiot would get in a helicopter when you’ve had a day like that? Well, that would be me. I figure I might as well temp fate right the edge of reason.

The spell has been broken. The experience of flying at tree top height over the forest until the ground and trees drop away 5,000 ft into the canyon as we break over rim is truly one of the most thrilling things the senses can absorb. Breathtaking is a poor description of this event.

Maybe Lauren will write about this as she was in the front seat next to the pilot. Where was I? I was in the rear, facing backwards, only able to see when we just WERE, rather than what is ahead.

Maybe the spell isn’t quite broken yet!





 

It was the most simple of things: riding a bicycle along a bike path here in Simi with Lauren on her bike close behind. Then, it happened… I saw the rolling mounds of dirt in a small area next to the trail we were on and my transformation began.

I was riding Lauren’s mountain bike, silly as it looked with my 6’-2” body balancing atop her bikes 17” frame with the saddle elevated all the way up. But when I saw the dirt mounds I immediately deviated and started riding up and down and all around the mounds, trees, holes, dips and rocks.

All of a sudden I was 12 again, riding my little sting-ray with bald tires and handle bars that reach into the sky higher than my shoulders.

I grew up in the northern area of Los Angeles that was covered by acres of orange groves and short rolling foothills. In those groves, away from the watchful eyes of the farmer, we spent our summer days engaged in all sorts of adventures. Fortresses, foreign lands, battlefields, castles and treehouses; we had them all with an endless supply of fresh oranges to fuel our play. But it was the seemingly endless paths and trails through and over the fields where I spent countless hours riding my bike over and around anything I could find.

It was as if time had no affect at all. I would ride in circles and up the paths, around the trees and down the irrigation gully, over to the fence and back to the barn. The breeze created by my own motion cooled me, and the energy of my own legs powered me forward. Hour after hour I would ride and imagine the most amazing of stories as I played on my bike.

As I ride my mind is free and my body reacts instantaneously to each and every little bump and groove beneath my tires. Cutting ever so close to the tree as I make the fast circle around it, I speed to the hill in front of me. At the top I have to turn a quick 90 degrees or ram a fence post. Look out! That rock’s too big so I peddle like mad as I turn and bolt back around the rock that leads me down another hill to the path. I gently pull my brakes and stop.

I step off my bike, panting to catch my breath and look up. There in front of me is the cutest little 10 year old I’ve ever seen. She sits astride her bike, with pink tassels adorning her handle bars and woven basket holding her schoolbooks. Her blondish brown hair is pulled straight back into a short pony tail. Her big beautiful eyes look back at me and a smile comes to my face.

Lauren smiles, and she asks if I’m done. I have no idea how long I was riding those mounds of dirt, but it could have been hours. I tell Lauren I’m ready to continue our ride along the path.

Somewhere in that mysterious void of time between adulthood and middle-aged-stressed-out-basket-case I learned to stop playing. I taught myself to quit turning mounts of dirt into castles and lost the ability to see everything as an adventure. I like life better while 12 and on two wheels, I think I spend more time there. Even better, I like life with that cute little girl there with me. She brings an energy and joy that exists no where else on this planet. Her big, beautiful eyes still look back at me after 29 years of being my wife and best friend…

And she still makes me smile.


 

One of my favorite luxuries is eating a hot breakfast. My daughter Elizabeth works around the corner at a small neighborhood burger grill that up until 10:30am or so serves the best breakfast in Simi Valley. The added value is I get to visit with and enjoy Elizabeth about three or four times a week.

Elizabeth arrives at work at 6:30am (yuck!) and gets the place ready to open right at 7:00. Lately there has been an older gentleman who is there every morning at opening time and is the first one in the door. He sits awhile, drinks his coffee ever so slowly, then orders his breakfast and eats. He finishes with another cup or two of coffee and gets on his way somewhere around 9:00am. This two hour ritual is a constant; you can tell time by it and the selection of eggs sunny side up, browned potatoes and a single waffle never changes. Seven days a week he is there.

Harvey is a delightful old fellow, I’d guess his age at about 70. He hails from North Carolina and came to California after the war (WWII that is) with his young bride and their first baby to find work in the aerospace business. His accent is unmistakable, and his manners are of a southern gentleman. He is always polite, tells the same jokes over and over, and will talk to anyone who will listen. The thing is, most people these days are just to busy to take time to listen to Harvey’s regurgitated jokes or his stories… except me.

As I am somewhat of a regular I just couldn’t resist old Harvey’s smile. He’s one of those folks who smiles with his whole face and his eyes squint and brighten through his thick glasses. Greetings turned into chats, chats into conversation, and conversations into friendship. Harvey and I are pretty close now. I’ve heard the history of Harvey’s’ life now, well actually, I’ve heard it several times. He has 3 sons of whom he is immensely proud. He’s a grandpa, and quite proud of that as well. His dear wife died 12 years ago from Lou Gehrig’s disease, and it left a hole in Harvey’s heart the size of which I can never fathom. He loved her dearly.

When I talk with Harvey I’ll make sure he is keeping his blood sugar under control, and inquire if he has food in the house and gas in the car. We often talk of the small things about our days and he always, and I mean always, talks about his wife and refers somehow to something she would have said, they might have done together, or what her opinion would have been about this or that. She is still with him, as if she were there at the table with us, so is his awareness of her.

Often I’ll ask Harvey what he has planned for his day. He will respond, just as sure as the sun rises, “As little as possible, my only plan is to plan nothing at all.” When asked what he does all day he says in his most forced jovial voice, “Make sure the cat has food and someone to nap with!”

I can’t tell you how this frustrates me and I’ll always mention that even at his age and in his condition he is still someone with something to contribute. Harvey will generally dismiss this kind of talk and divert the conversation to a joke, usually the same joke, or tell me about his kids (again).

But this morning was different. This morning I was talking to Harvey about his beloved North Carolina and he revealed a little secret that gave me another glimpse into the heart of this wonderful man. Harvey mentioned that he still owned some rather large parcels of land there and that the place where he was born and raised still belonged to him. He then told me that he had a plan going back many years to build a care center for folks with Lou Gehrig’s disease to go and be cared for by family members. He even had gone to the effort of having plans drawn up and had selected a contractor. He also talked to some legal professionals about how to get this going.

But that’s where the plans stopped. Somewhere along these many years without his wife Harvey stopped believing he had something to offer and stopped believing he could make a difference. Then, Harvey stopped trying.

There’s a lesson for me to learn from Harvey. Actually, there are several lessons everyone could learn from Harvey, if they are willing to listen.

I sat and listened to Harvey and felt very sad. Here was a man who had a vision for doing a unique and wonderful service for others. The disease that took his wife and so many others left a deep wound in him, so deep that he lost the energy to do something about it.

I then did a quick review of others I have known that have, for one reason or another, given up a dream, or goal, or a mission of some type that would be their contribution to making our world a little better. The list got rather large in the short time I pondered it.

Harvey’s lessons were huge and it seemed as though he were handing it to me on a silver platter.

1. Stop beating around the bush and get busy. I wondered how many people lost their calling because they waited too long to answer. I don’t want to be one of them. I don’t want to wake up one day and realize I lost my energy to chase my own dreams.

2. Loss should call us forward, not send us back. Harvey’s eyes teared up a bit when he said that his wife would be mad at him for not following through on their vision. It seems he and his wife conceived this idea together. It was obvious that he was punishing himself for his lack of resolve. I had to catch my own tears as I remembered the many promises I‘ve broken to myself and to God when things don’t go my way.

3. “Life is so short” he said one morning when we were speaking of our wives, “live like it’s shorter. Never take one second with her for granted.” These words reached deep into my own heart. Too many times I have wasted an opportunity to sit with Lauren and talk, or walk to dinner while holding hands rather than drive the car with the music on. The list I ran in my mind of things I have taken for granted haunted me and stabbed at my conscience. I don’t want to live like that and my love for Lauren is greater than that.

Harvey is such a kind and sweet man. I’m sad that he isn’t out there changing the world for better. But I wonder if he isn’t saying the same of me?