Pride not Prejudice

That’s the “theme” of this year’s Gay Pride celebrations, which culminated today with a parade down Market Street and festival in the Civic Center gardens. I was a bit disappointed by the parade: not sure what I expected – maybe more hunks in trunks with balloons, but it seemed a bit lame, especially as several local politicians, who had little to do with the cause, were using it as a cheap PR exercise. I had been told (warned?!) that the real show would be on the sidewalks, not in the parade itself, and that was certainly the case! The festival was quite fun: there were several bands playing, lots of food and drink, stalls selling everything from straw cowboy hats to marijuana-flavoured lollipops. There was a dance floor peopled entirely by male couples twirling around to country music and countless groups recruiting for their cause. After a good look around, and stopping to say “hello” at the Shanti stand, we decided to head home, as we were getting sunburnt and also felt perhaps a little like we were crashing someone else’s party.

What else have we been up to? On Friday evening, we tried out what turned out to be yet another mediocre Italian nearby in North Beach. It beggars belief: here we are, living in the heart of Little Italy in a major city, and we still haven’t managed to find a restaurant that can rival Marconato in Hoddesdon! Yesterday, we went to the beach ten minutes walk from the flat for a little while (it’s been a gorgeous weekend weather-wise, although always with that little bite in the wind). We also went to a barbecue at the house of Melissa, someone we know through Susie, down in Menlo Park (between the airport and Palo Alto). Jon was on auto-pilot as he drove us there and took us onto the Bay Bridge by mistake. Fortunately, there’s an island (well, two, actually) half way across, so we were able to turn around. In any case, it was a very interesting detour, with fantastic views back to the city from Yerba Buena Island, as well as the sight of dozens of pelicans gliding around in their characteristically menacing fashion, looking for all the world like pterodactyls. We really enjoyed the barbecue at Melissa’s: it’s nice to go to people’s houses when you don’t really have one of your own, plus we met some more people and got to play with a Pug dog and a Boston Terrier (also small and wrinkly) – hilarious!

I’ve been feeling a bit homesick recently, if you can call it that. A German guy I met at Shanti told me wisely, “Irgendwann vermisst man seine eigene Kultur” (“At some point you miss your own culture”). I didn’t believe him at the time, but I now know what he was talking about. The English aren’t exactly known for their happy-go-lucky outlook on life, but they’re a lot more laid-back than many Americans I’ve met. The people in my office for example: they work SO hard! They arrive early in the morning, leave late, don’t take a lunch break, don’t take long vacations and yet can be fired at any moment without reason. However, I went for a nice long run in the early evening today, pausing at my turning-around point, the beach at Crissy Field, to watch the crashing waves, with the towering Golden Gate Bridge to my left and Alcatraz to my right, feeling that all was right in the world after all.

Yosemite getaway and (nearly) doing Half Dome

After my first week at work (I got the job in project management for the translation company), we headed to Yosemite National Park, approx. 170 miles east, for the weekend. On Friday night we were together with some chums from Jon’s work in a cabin a few miles outside the park. The next day, we got up early and headed into the valley itself with the intention of doing possibly the most strenuous of the available hikes, the 17 mile round-trip – ascending some 5,000 feet –to the top of the glacier-formed granite monolith known as Half Dome. We made good progress at the start of the hike, passing by stunning Nevada Falls on the way up. The day started to heat up, though, which made walking more difficult, especially the climb up the steep shoulder of the dome towards the end of the outward trek. The final leg of the hike, covering an ascent of some 400 feet, involves hauling yourself up steel cables suspended over the 45 degree angle cliff face to the summit. We reached the cables just after 1 p.m., only to find that we were far from alone, with a line of stationary people ahead of us clinging to them for dear life. We dutifully waited in line for about an hour, donning the last odd gloves left by previous hikers to aid our grip, only managing to get a quarter of the way up the incline during this time. We were fast dehydrating, standing on the bare rock face in the searing heat, and had to make a judgement call: it would take at least an hour to get to the top at the rate the people were moving (about one step every couple of minutes), which, in addition to the time spent at the summit and the many minutes needed to get down, would increase the duration of the hike considerably, meaning that we may not reach the valley before nightfall. With the line being so bad, people were taking the dangerous chance of scrambling up the outside of the cable. It was a difficult decision to make, not to mention highly frustrating, but we decided to abandon the exercise and embark upon the return journey. The views from the shoulder were, in any case, superb and the hike as a whole, passing two amazing waterfalls and a beautiful, emerald-coloured lake, was rewarding enough. We also came across a rattle-snake slinking along at the side of the path (although no bears, to Jon’s disappointment)! The last three miles or so were incredibly tough, though, and we were more than ready for the beer and pizza we gorged on at the end!

About an hour after we turned back from the cables, we heard a helicopter overhead and were confronted with an out-of-breath ranger on his way up, who asked us if we had seen anything in relation to an accident near the summit. We found out today that a mere half an hour after we decided to descend, a man had slipped and fallen from three quarters of the way up the cables to his death (http://www.sanluisobispo.com/348/story/70854.html). Judging from the time this happened, he was probably quite near us in the line. It’s not clear exactly what happened – perhaps he was trying to bypass the queue or was maybe overcome with the heat, but it’s a horrific tragedy.

Our second night was spent in a motel, also outside the park, as it’s impossible to get anything near the valley on a weekend (apart from camping, which we hadn’t prepared for) unless you book something approaching a year in advance. After an all-American breakfast of gammon, eggs, pancakes and maple syrup at nearby café, we headed back to the park and drove along the Tioga Pass road (only open about three months of the year because of snow) to do another hike to North Dome, on the northern rim of the valley. This was a much easier trek, in spite of the unforgiving heat and sun, being a mere (!) nine miles long with less ascent/descent, but it still afforded amazing views. We had lunch on the granite dome, looking towards the towering cliff of Half Dome on one side and down into the deep valley on the other, all the while being entertained by a curious chipmunk.

Our journey back was long and tedious, as we got stuck in a major traffic jam shortly after indulging in a dinner at Denny’s, a diner chain, about half way along the route. There’s not that much freeway on the way to Yosemite, which means that you pass through a lot of run-down, quite soulless little places largely dependent upon agriculture. After this dose of small-town America, it was a relief to see the garland of lights marking the Bay Bridge and the glittering skyscrapers of SF beyond. Driving up through North Beach at that late hour, with people still out and about enjoying themselves, felt very much like coming home. Could it be that I’m turning into a city girl after all?!

Pictures are available on the Fotki website: http://public.fotki.com/EllenHardwick/ (Password: moocow)

Festival review: BFD 07, Mountain View

We went down to Mountain View on Saturday for a music festival. The venue was the Shoreline Amphitheatre. There were three stages: a small stage for local bands, a "festival stage" erected in what looked like a car park overspill for more well known bands on their way up, and the main stage for the big names. The main stage had acts on in the evening, whilst the other two had acts on during the day, allowing you to drift from one to another depending on whether you liked or disliked the band on any one stage.

The weather was blazing hot during the day. I was glad for my cap, and that Ellen remembered the sunscreen. I found it pleasant: you could cool off by sitting on the grass or drinking the huge frozen Margaritas that were being served. There was a good atmosphere, everyone was enjoying themselves.

The smaller stages were easily the best part of the festival. The local stage was surrounded by grass, so if you weren't into the mosh pit, you could recline a bit further back and still have a good view. The festival stage was completely surrounded by moshing fans, who proved that crowd-surfing in the US is still a major sport.

Unfortunately I wasn't that impressed with the main stage. It was immediately surrounded by amphitheatre-style seating, with a huge grassy bank for non-seated spectators to lounge on behind the seats. This wasn't conducive to a good concert atmosphere. Why put seats exactly in the spot where people should be on their feet jumping up and down? It continues to bemuse me that Americans want to sit through gigs. I just don't get it. If people must sit down, they really shouldn't do it right in front of the band. We on the bank were just too far from the stage and didn't feel much atmosphere. The atmosphere improved when the sun finally went down, but by then it was freezing cold on the grass bank which killed the mood somewhat!

What of the bands? I won't bore you with a detailed analysis of each, so here is a pithy summary of those that have managed to stick in my mind for 3 days.

The Good
- Honeycut. On the local bands stage, an electro-dance-funk ensemble who really impressed. Particularly the keyboard player, who did bunny hops for 25 minutes straight during the set. My old Sensei would have liked him.

- Shiny Toy Guns. Electro-punk outfit from LA, who took the festival stage by storm and gave me goosebumps. Excellent.

- Cold War Kids. Hadn't heard of them before, but they were amazing and should be huge. Really different to the generic punk / hardcore going on elsewhere. Props for doing a John Lennon cover.

- Kaiser Chiefs. Best set on the main stage (and flying the Yorkshire flag again), but they just couldn't get the crowd into it, in spite of all their efforts. That's because the part of the crowd who were into it were 1/2 a mile from the stage. Lead singer Ricky Wilson seemed somewhat frustrated with it all.

- Queens of the Stone Age. This was a good set on the main stage - they are clearly excellent musicians. They turned the music up extra loud, which apparently almost killed the people in the seating area, but benefitted us at the back who were feeling totally out of it.

- Bloc Party. Surprised they were headlining the main stage, but then again there weren't any obviously bigger names. I enjoyed their set, and although it didn't sound remotely like the "musical" music they do on their albums, it was still very well played. Lead singer Kele Okereke was good at engaging the audience.

The Bad
- Sum 41. Are they still going? Apparently so. They were crap and swore a lot.

- The Bravery had a shocker - their synth and drum kit were completely out of phase with each other. Apologised to the crowd at the end. Well done for soldiering through, but couldn't they have sorted the problem out?

- Interpol. Played moody, depressing music for 40 minutes, and failed to engage me.

- Social Distortion. Ever heard of them? Me neither, but apparently they're huge over here. I did not like them. The lead singer is clearly from the US, but he tries to sound Irish when he sings. Every song sounded like they were trying to cover The Pogues and doing a bad job of it.

The Just-OK-For-Me-Man
- Every Move a Picture. Opened the festival stage, we only saw two songs, but they were catchy enough. Generic American new-wave rock.

- Silversun Pickups. Sounded heavily derivative of the Smashing Pumpkins. Crowd loved them, but no prizes for originality.

- Scissors for Lefty. Local band who won a competition for opening the main stage. Didn't rate them much musically but they win the prize for having the most random stuff happening on stage. They seemed to reenact the 80s video game Frogger with a giant frog and cardboard cars.

As a direct result of this musical overload, Sunday was an expensive day, as we hit Amoeba Records wielding a credit card!

Out and about with Karen and Duncan

The Shanti fundraising event I’ve been helping to plan took place last Thursday. It was a tough day – I had to make all the Silent Auction signs (about forty of them) plus sort out a number of other things before I even got to the event space. When I did arrive, I was amazed by how beautiful it looked: the Silent Auction displays looked gorgeous, my PowerPoint was running on the back wall, the plants we’d borrowed and the flowers were all looking lovely. It was a very successful event overall, although the co-ordination of volunteers was a bit of a shambles and we didn’t end up with quite enough attendees.

On Friday I had a job interview at a translation company in the attractive Fillmore district. I thought I had it in the bag, because I got on very well with the people there and am really well qualified for the job, but they want me to go again on Friday and meet someone else, so I’m not too sure how it will turn out!

Karen and Duncan, our friends who are immigrating back to the UK from New Zealand, arrived on Saturday. We picked them up from the airport, then went out for a stroll and a coffee. The weather was not nice, though: foggy, windy and really cold. Unfortunately, it was not much better on Sunday either, and I feared that the famous Summer fog was already upon us and that I wouldn’t see the sun again until September. We had a good time doing touristy things, though: went up Lombard Street, ambled through North Beach, had dim sum in Chinatown, shopped in Union Square, took snaps of the Painted Ladies in Alamo Square and soaked up the atmosphere in hippy central, Haight Ashbury. On Monday I went to school in the morning, then met up with Karen and Duncan for a quick trip up Coit Tower. We had dinner in the apartment, then travelled to the Mark Hopkins Hotel on snooty Nob Hill by cable car to have cocktails in the sky at the bar known as “Top of the Mark”. The visibility wasn’t that great, but it was a lot better than the last time Jon and I went (thick fog!).

On Tuesday we got a hire car and headed to the winelands with a brief stop in Sausalito for breakfast. We began in Sonoma with Ravenswood, famous for its Zinfandel, taking in Benziger, the beautiful Château St. Jean and finishing with Serghesio in Healdsburg. We had an excellent dinner at a restaurant in Santa Rosa, where we also stayed overnight in a rather less than inspiring motel. The next day we visited the lovely Hanna winery near Russian River and then crossed over into Napa, stopping at well-heeled St Helena on the way. We took in three wineries in the Napa valley before heading home via Domaine Carneros, a champagne maker with a very flash HQ enjoying lovely views. There we were able to sit outside in the sunshine and have the range of champagnes and pinot noirs brought to us. It was great to go with Duncan, who knows his stuff because he studied viticulture in New Zealand, worked at a winery and is now looking for a job in the industry in the UK.

I’ve really enjoyed having friends to stay, but it’s back to reality now: I need to head to Shanti this afternoon and go to a second interview tomorrow. Still, at least the sun is shining again!