Wandering Bananas

"Brazilian wandering spiders, also called armed spiders or banana spiders, belong to the genus Phoneutria, which means "murderess" in Greek. And it's no wonder why — it's one of the most venomous spiders on Earth. Its bite, which delivers neurotoxic venom, can be deadly to humans, especially children. 

They are often hidden in shipments of bananas, so unloading banana should be done with extreme care..."

     Greetings to all! 

 Well you can sleep easier tonight because the rainforest is one step closer to             being saved thanks to us. Did you know that the rain forest is responsible for 20% of all oxygen on the earth? So we left the tough streets and elegant cafes of Sao Paolo and took two flights into the jungle. The flights were on time and despite there being no business class, very comfortable. The only hesitation I felt was when we were boarding they simply waved us out of the terminal with the vague instruction: "last plane on the left." (Photo below of boys on the tarmac; it is a wonder they didn't end up in Bolivia.) We landed in a town called Alta Floresta, were picked up in a van, driven on dusty red roads for an hour and a half, and then climbed into a boat with our luggage. By this time we had hit the trifecta of exhausted, hot and hungry. Our guide Maurizio stopped every so often to point out birds along the river; and at first this was exciting, but after a short while we were praying he would stop talking and get to lunch. Finally, after about 40 minutes, we pull-up to a nice large deck with green umbrellas over the river where we were told we can swim. "In the river?? The one with caiman and anaconda and piranha? Yes he says...very unlikely an anaconda will be there, and the piraña are in the other part of the river." That is sort of the vibe in the Brazilian jungle: "it's probably fine." There is even a teeny sign that says casually: if you have an open sore, don't swim. I need not point out they don't have a sign like this by the YMCA pool. 

Anyway it is so hot, there was no way we weren't going in, so we did (every day) but no one was lingering I'll say that. 

Good game of chicken when you add crocodiles and giant snakes

We slept in an un-airconditioned wood cabin with netting for windows- it was hot, but with the fan at night it was ok. On our way to dinner at the central building...we had to watch for snakes and spiders, but it wasn't really scary. Food was good...cocktails available...and all round very much like an African safari vibe but not dressy. The days were spent either in the boat on the river, or walking through the jungle, or both. The walks were a nice sort of stroll to look at flora and fauna: we saw spider monkeys who yelled at us and then carefully collected branches to throw at our (Charlie's) heads. We also saw a herd of about 40 wild boar which was sort of intimidating, especially because guide had announced that there had been a group that had been charged the day before. But this was a different group of boars, and "it was probably fine". This made me not want to stop and linger near their salt lick, but I was in the minority. The guides- and all the Brazilians I met actually- were serious and totally dedicated to the work of conservation. They are as interested in the little leaf as they are the big dangerous animals- pumas and crocodiles for example. The guests however - and I won't name names- could only talk about birds for so long; then we wanted to know what could kill us. Charlie was particularly interested in anaconda, Frederick was counting the moments until the stars came out, and I was trying not to get killed by a wild boar or bitten by the bullet ant, an insect reputed to be the highest animal on the pain scale. The bite causes men to writhe in agony for two days; but no one dies. 

More than 1,000 year old tree; 250 feet tall. We do not want these cut down. 

View from the tower

always on time for meals these two

The dreaded tower

The worst insect turned out to be a surprise: on the tree by our hut was a colony of enormous, two inch long cicadas. Every time we came in or out of our room and walked past their tree, they would jump on us- on our backs and faces. It was ludicrous...like being jumped by a gang. We took to taking the long way around the tree at night, sneaking past them like you would a sleeping dog in a cartoon. Someone asked me "if one were afraid of insects, should one go to the rain forest? And my answer is no. Despite de forestation, and the ruinous effects of humans on all things, there are still plenty of things that will bite you. 

By far the scariest thing was actually a trip up a tower to see the sunrise. Maurizio said if one were afraid of heights it was not a good idea. I found this terribly un specific: how afraid of heights? I have no trouble riding in a ski tram, but I would never sky dive. But I figured I would try. We met before dawn in complete dark for coffee and then set off through the woods for a short walk. This was sort of unnerving, but Charlie was ahead of me making me laugh, so I managed. The tower is 150 feet high with stairs that are closer to a ladder in steepness. It is really loud in the jungle at this point - the little creatures are starting to wake up and the cicadas at this time of year, at this time of day, actually scream. It is a sound I love when I have a drink in hand or am lying in my bed, but now as I start to climb this rickety Brazilian metal ladder, the sound is ominous. Each step is sort of hard, because your body rebels against the idea..your brain tells you everything is fine, but your legs seem to be in active rebellion to get you to turn around; and through it all the cicadas are screaming like in a horror movie. At about half way we reach one platform where we can in theory give up- but there is no reason to because this level is also awful and I don't want to wait for everyone alone. So I keep following Charlie up and up until the top where we see a truly magnificent view, straight out of a David Attenborough series. I saw the sun come up: yes very nice, lovely, but when are we going down? Because the thing you discover 15 floors up is the whole tower is secured by these rather thin cables and it wobbles. So you are up there, without breakfast and you are wobbling and the cicadas are screaming. Then Maurizio answers my question- Oh we will stay just an hour and forty minutes; without coffee; and the wasps have now found us. I instantly transform from Jane Goodall to Woody Allen as I ignore the sunrise and concentrate on my can of bug spray, killing off the last remaining insects in the rain forest. When dear Maurizio thinks he has talked enough about various species of trees and cloud formations, we are allowed to descend- backwards (it is supposed to be safer) and get to breakfast. 

A high point of the trip was meeting Doña Vittoria, the owner of the lodge and surrounding park. Her father was a rich farmer in the area, and when she grew up she bought 100,000 acres or so to protect the land from de forestation. She is just the loveliest- in her 60s and soft spoken in a slightly wounded way. In excellent English, she told this very sad tale about the battle for the rain forest, where the combination of a poor country, bad leadership and basic human greed has led us to this dangerous point. If the land is bought, it can be protected- otherwise people will kill the animals and chop down the trees to feed themselves in the short term. At the little presentation Thomas of course raised his hand and asks what he always does, i.e. How much? How much would it cost to buy enough land? The answer was surprisingly little: Elon Musk or the Gates Foundation could basically save the rain forest with $100 billion. Anyway, one visit and you feel how important it is...how much life and oxygen are in the jungle; and how much we need both. 

At the last minute, we decided not to do the long two lights into Sao Paolo, only to turn around the next day and take two more flights into the desert. Thomas somehow finds a private plane to take us all away, and three handsome Argentinian pilots come to the jungle for our exit. Margaret always says she is  a desert person, but Thomas and I are happier in the jungle. Yes, it will kill you, especially if you have even a moment of weakness- an open sore, a half a candy bar left in your room, a broken window. Water is everywhere; life is everywhere- even perhaps unhappily in your pillow. But where the desert is quiet and empty, the jungle is a Puerto Rican wedding- overflowing with drama and life and thick, intoxicating air.

Yes, I rather think we are jungle people. 

Confidence inspiring plane; slightly worrisome runway

Was so excited for trip, and then promptly fell asleep somewhere over Bolivia 

Viva Brasil

 

The So Ho of Sao Paolo: lots of graffiti art and hippy chicks. 

Greetings from São Paolo! 

We flew from Lisbon to here and landed in winter. It is not cold- far from it, but it gets dark at 6 pm and this was a surprise. One hears that the southern hemisphere faces the sun at a weird time of year, but you just don't believe it. 

First thing: SP (takes too long to write it out) is big, really big. It is about 13 million people and that is not counting the outskirts of town. Charlie was amazed when he landed, at the sight of building after building; high rise after high rise as far as they eye could see. Since I am now in the actual jungle which is a more interesting entry, I will keep the Sao Paolo entry short. I loved the city- it is huge and tropical and looks like a very fun place to be rich. The rich live in enormous houses with enormous tropical gardens  all surrounded by gates. Most have barbed wire and armed guards in little buildings too. Basically this town, and all of Brazil, used to be rather dangerous, and perhaps they haven't gotten out of the habit. From what we read, if you stay in your prissy little neighborhood, you are perfectly safe, but the concierge told us not to walk around with jewelry on. SP is the New York of Brazil- all about the money and movement: the older accountant brother to the scantily dressed, never made it out of high school younger sister that is Rio de Janeiro. I half expected to be met at the airport with a caipirinha and a lei but it was all rather business like and the neighborhood remarkably quiet for a Friday evening. 

Here are some things I learned from the fabulous tour guide we had one day:

The place is so crazed over soccer that they no longer allow both teams' fans to attend the local games. Apparently they killed each other a few too many times and now is like going to see a warriors game, i.e no dissenting voices in the crowd. 

They make a little cheese puff that I can't stop eating...they eat it all the time, even at breakfast. In fact they are very pro bread in general. 

Brazil was this fun beacon of freedom to the world..a sloppier US so during times of trouble, so they had tons of immigrants. Now they are home to the largest populations of Jews, Italians and Japanese anywhere outside of their home countries. 

The McDonalds have armed guards. 

They have incredible architects...the most famous of them, Oscar Niemeyer, (of UN building fame) lived until he was 104 when he dropped dead while working. 

The highlight was this tour by this wonderful man who used to be an engineer, then banker; but he wanted to become a tour guide. He got the idea when he was told by his bosses at the bank to take a client out and "show him a good time". He told us that meant girls and bars, but the guy was a 75 year old Canadian, so that plan was out. When he picked him up he said the client was so shy he would not look at him and just said he wanted to go to the library and look at books about the communal aspect of sports. Our man then made a rather Brazilian decision and decided instead to take him to a local soccer match. But he didn't tell him because he thought he would say no. So they get to the parking lot and he says "I have decided to take you to a game" and the client says: "I can see that." They sit in the cheap seats with the crazies to give him the real effect. Score is 1:1;  they all stand up except for our client who stares at his hands.(our guide was basically going to be in deep doo if the guy didn't come back happy..so he was stressed) Then home team goes to 2:1; crowd is sharing beers and client takes many sips. Score goes to 3:1 and it is mayhem...people are kissing strangers. Score goes to 4:1 and it is a cacophony of joy and love and insanity..so much so that our guide thinks he better pull the plug and get poor Canadian home. But when he looks, the entire section- including the Canadian- has their shirts off and are waving them around. 

The bank gets the deal.

When the Canadian is preparing to leave he is in a meeting with our friend's superiors and asks for him to come in. He comes in a starts to apologize for dragging him to this game, but the Canadian stops him and says: you changed my life. I wanted a book, but you put me in a book. I wanted to read a story and you gave me a story. You made me a part of life, and I will never forget you. True to his word, years later he died and our guide gets a call from Canada. It is this man's son and he says..my father wanted me to call you and tell you he never forgot you. I don't know what you did but you made him very happy. 

The guide said that is when he decided he just wanted to do this for a living: give people these short magnificent experiences. Only trouble with this kind of enthusiasm is that when you are jet lagged and sign up for a four hour tour but say you only need to be taken through traffic for two hours, he will have none of it. He is fanatical about you not forgetting Sao Paolo. At one point I wondered if we had been kidnapped.

So there you have it, cheese puffs, and glamor and soccer and lush tropical gardens and incredible kind happy people.  Sao Paolo is a very fine place indeed. 

Hotel pool

Landed at night from Lisbon..happy room service er

Blood really is thicker than water

 

Vintage Portuguese postcards I found. I do not know this cow. 

The human body functions best at 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit. When it overheats and bcomes dehydrated, the blood thickens. The heart has to pump harder and it and other organs can be seriously damaged. When core body temperature rises too high, everything breaks down: The gut leaks toxins into the body, cells begin to die, and a devastating inflammatory repose can occur. Part of the insidiousness of heat related deaths is how quickly they can happen. 

So HOW ARE YOU GUYS??? The San Franciscans have won the lottery this summer with the fog; we are drooling over the beach pictures sent by Janette and Albert. Here we had a few days where we felt the breeze from the blessed Atlantic Ocean and thought we would escape the worst. Then we were slapped with a few days of hot, smoky hell and reconsidered our life style choices - specifically the ones that involve coming to Southern Europe in July and August. Thomas has taken to reading magazines with Yachting in the title, and brochures of Finnish real estate. 

When you live with 91 year old war survivors who don't cool the house, but diligently heat the pool, you develop a sixth sense that is part spiritual and part thermodynamics. (The latter is of course the study of the relations between heat, temperature and energy.) We are experts on many things: we know how long we can play at high noon on a hot tennis court and how much Gatorade will be required. We know there is not enough Gatorade in the country to get us to play at 4 pm. We know the exact path through the golf course that has the most shade, and the most breeze. We know now that an area of heat next to an area of greenery will create a breeze that makes you want to keep living. Most importantly, we know which restaurants have have air conditioning. 

The good news about heat is you pay attention. You pay attention to the exact moment before you enter a cold, familiar ocean; and the bliss of entering the only room in the house that has air air-conditioning (snuck in by Thomas a few years ago). You pay attention to the song of ice cubes landing in your glass, and marvel at the amount of sweat on the front of your hands and under your eyes. You pay attention to any news story that says we will fight climate change. 

Things are better now, I am sitting in the office here and there is a little breeze coming from the open door. It is a regular summer day in the Algarve: I don' t have a wash cloth on my head and there is no smell of smoke. 

Luckily we are heading to winter soon. I enthusiastically bought cashmere sweaters here in preparation and then learned that Sao Paolo in winter is basically like San Francisco: 65-70 in the day and 55 at night. The packing is going to be its own blog entry. I have three nights at semi sophisticated restaurants in Sao Paolo winter- including the 7th best restaurant in the world that is devoted solely to pork, They raise their own pigs apparently and then kill them. (pray for me). Then we go into the Amazon jungle where I am required to wear beige and sweat a lot. In the form required for the hotel there (called the Cristallino lodge) we were asked how much we weighed (for the life preservers) and what animals we were afraid of. (I wanted to ask how much time they had; but settled for crocodiles).  Thomas and Frederick left it blank thinking that they were indeed afraid of certain animals but didn't want to miss out on seeing them. Charlie probably wrote strawberries and left it at that. Lastly we go to high altitude - dangerous sun during the day and freezing cold at night where I will be standing outside. 

In my next life I want to start a travel clothing store where you can input your trip and they send you every thing, already packed. 

Did you all know that we had the shortest day every recorded? Apparently the earth spun faster than it has ever before. Also, if one person fires a bullet horizontally, and another person drops a bullet at the exact same time, the two bullets will hit the earth simultaneously. 

OK I have to get this up because I am presently in Sao Paolo and it is amaaaazing. Tomorrow into the jungle we go, so I have to write fast. 

até à próxima Portugal 

Is This the Beginning or the End?

Think of the helpers ladies....(these firemen are French, but close enough)

We left Milan with many heavy bags and it was hot and crowded at the train station, but I could not have been happier. I was gayly skipping around looking for Italian sandwiches and sneaking coffees behind Thomas' back. Because once you are on a European train, and that train happens to be going to Zurich, you have reached the height of civilization. Bad things don't happen anymore; luggage is not lost, people are not loud, coffee is poured. Beside the Queen Mary, it is when I am happiest moving through space. In Zurich we stayed at my favorite, the Baur au Lac and ACB and MFB joined, and the sun was out and we swam in the lake and just marveled at how clean and perfect it all was. I think I saw a homeless person, but after quite a lot of discussion, we decided he was just drunk and littering (probably by accident; even drunk the Swiss don't litter). It was delightful. In fact, Zurich now has a few areas that border on actual cool and Frederick was so dazzled he is definitely looking at the ETH for graduate school. 

Alas, things went quickly downhill (oh year 2022, why can't you just relax?) We were on the way to the airport and Frederick announced he felt sick. So he has increasingly clear Covid symptoms and is piling on mask on mask on the plane but we think: ok, stay calm, we are almost there: almost to an actual house and not a hotel, to Lydia and her cake. 

Nao (as they say here.) 

We are picked up as usual by Lydia's son Carlos, and he says casually that there are fires licking the front gates of Quinta do Lago, but how was your year? One house has already burned down, and we may or may not be able to go to our house. I believe I have some of Eloise's producer gene in me and I am already solving this problem in my head and the plan involves not driving the two hours towards the fires, but a retreat to the excellent hotel in Lisbon where I will be close to concrete and airplanes: two things one needs at times of fire. But Thomas thinks Lisbon is "too hot"- code for no water for him to swim in, and we should go closer at least. So I say that if we are looking for a hotel, then we are not the only ones and perhaps he should get on the phone. Sure enough, lots of evacuated hot people are calling the same places and we end up in the last one available: something called Pine Cliffs I think....tag line "where happiness has meaning" or maybe it was 'life has meaning'. We stuff Chico into his room and try to steady our nerves with sushi and Chilean white wine. The cliffs start to have meaning....

Anyway the heroic firemen put them all out, and we are able to come in after two nights. F has covid but feels ok...he is in his little wing away from all but us and the Wehlens come next week. Does anyone else find this year to be just so tense? 

 I find myself increasingly in need of Mister Rogers' quote: 

"When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say: look at the helpers. You will always find people who are helping." 

Markets crashing? Kid with Covid on a plane? Fires burning the earth and your house? Think of firemen and astrophysicists. Think of immunologists. Think of Liz Cheney and nice people on the train. Oh yes and thank God for the Webb photos- thank god for the Carina Nebula: cutest little star nursery. Hold onto those thoughts like the railing on a ship. Hold on my tribe!!!!!

 Here is what I have learned so far this summer: things are not bad, in fact they are in many ways better. Every place I went was better that it was before. San Francisco is even better than it was before. I know that is not a very fashionable opinion, but it is the truth. (Before you argue with me, read Season of the Witch or talk to any native over 45 years old.) I think maybe (just maybe) our standards have gotten better and the dark side of human behavior seems less acceptable. Maybe it is darkest before the dawn. Or maybe it is really the end and we will burn together waiting in line for over-priced coffee. 

Too close to call. 

Did I mention we are going to the Amazon jungle with Charlie and Frederick before Chile? Pray for good wifi people because this will be the blog of the century. We have two nights in Sao Paolo first, then two flights into the jungle where I fear we will be watching a lot of birds. Nothing against birds but five nights seems like a lot. 

Anyway we have a month to go here in Portugal. More very soon my pretties...we have to stick together: holding each other with one hand, and the photos of baby stars in the other. 

Big Beautiful Cities Tour

Former New York body works building in SoHO, now a Pilates study. 

 
 We heard a lot about flight delays and chaos at airports but so far so good. The itinerary for the summer is New York; London; Milan; Zurich; then in theory, Portugal, then - wait for it- curve ball: Amazon rain forest with Charlie and Frederick; then Chile. SO the packing, with 90% of my things at the old house, was tricky and  am not sure I succeeded. I packed as if I were going to an exclusive event every evening and it instead it was a lot of family dinners.  I am dragging around a lot of bags, one of which has the "HEAVY BAG" tag on it; which makes me feel like a bad. 

Thomas got us into first class on BA and the crowd did not disappoint: my fellow passengers were a woman with very large diamonds wearing LuLu Lemon; a man who thought he should smile at all of us….and an orthodox jew or two. The steward walked us to the seat in case finding 2A was too hard; and meals it was explained to me were on demand. One just starts yelling that one is hungry. Another steward came to say how heroic we were for managing to get on such an early flight. She is right of course; it was 8 a.m. and someone has to eat the asparagus soufflé. 

We had such a New York week! Our first night in the upper east side, an old man was so angry his order didn’t come that he told the much younger manager that “If I could I would punch you in the face right now!!” But apparently due to his spaghetti shaped 80 year old arms, this was not an option for him. Then we saw Fran Leibowitz walking down Park avenue looking grumpy and smoking a cigarette; and we heard a woman tell her child who was crying and wanted a ride in the pram that she was a “sociopath!” (New Yorkers all have the lingo to make sure the next generation goes to as much therapy as they do). I love this town. 

We walked around as usual and tried a few trendy restaurants- one of which served goat intestines. It was an Indian place in the village and they don’t serve Naan, which makes a Wehlen sad. 

Heather and I took lots of walks around Central Park which is glorious this time of year- the weather was strangely cool - SF was hotter than New York. 

Thomas doesn’t notice things that are not right in front of him- the fight behind me at the restaurant went over his head as did the Leibowitz sighting. But he did see Dr. Oz at breakfast and said he looks older than he does on tv. I thought about what I would say if we ended up in the elevator together….what searing little line would express my chagrin at the way he has turned to the dark side. For the uninitiated: he is a doctor that used to be on Oprah regularly telling us to look at our poops, and now he is a Trump defender running for senate in a state that is not his own (PA). I finally landed on something I hoped was both simple and ominous: 

“I sincerely hope you are watching the hearings.” It reminds me of when Bill Clinton came to Chris N’s mother’s building and she found the whole thing sort of an inconvenience….Amy however was (one assumes) in full make-up and heels and really thought about what she would say. She went with a classic- Marilyn Monroe esque greeting “Good evening Mr. President”. Pretty good…flirty but with full deniability. Chris’ mother was the best though..she just said loudly: “Welcome to the building!!!” I love that. SO confident and blasé. 

The hearings …oh the hearings…dare we hope? (Dare we?) The stupid runs strong in my country I tell you. 

Speaking of stupid, I have to say that the New York waiters are so much more professional and even polite compared to those in my fair city. I am not kidding…all kinds of good manners and clever problem solving that I don’t often see in San Francisco. At home I don’t think they want to do this as a profession , they want to develop apps or become actors. 

The Berkeley Hotel pool..working away

London is always so very wonderful and a week is way too short. We saw lots of Peter and K but the little work we had, combined with our jet lag made the days short. I didn’t get to go to a play or see the inside of Kensington Palace where William and Kate live and Queen Victoria grew up (before she was Queen and moved to Buckingham Palace).

I am presently in Milan at the incredible new Four Seasons which is in a converted convent. In my room are 15th century frescos on the ceiling, and there is a very beautiful swimming pool in what was once the cisterns. It has arches and dramatic lighting which contrast with the little kiddies in floatation devices bobbing around with me. Milan is so elegant- the stores, the people, the buildings. It doesn't have a single tree as far as we can tell, so it is not for the outdoorsy set, but it looks really good compared to when I lived here (there was a world expo here in 2015 or os and a few billion was spent to spruce it up).

Seeing lots of beloved Margaret and G who are in great shape and cooking lots of healthy food for us. 

Back in a jiffy…xx

An Irrational Number that Goes on Forever

This entry began many times but kept becoming obsolete. We went from Chicago to Zurich to Lech, and are now back on the plane flying towards Chicago. 

Chicago alternated between quite warm and freezing; we saw a Bulls game where we were treated to a performance by 75 year old cheerleaders and a public service announcement that asked fans to be nice (God I love the Midwest….)  Dinners with Frederick were as illuminating as ever. He revealed to us what most mathematicians said was their favorite proof (Euler’s theory) where e is an irrational number that goes on forever. (This is as good a title as any for my autobiography.)  He also said he read about a proposal for leaders of nuclear nations to hide the codes in the body of the second in command. The only way to launch a weapon would be do kill the number two and cut the codes out, thereby negating any frivolous threats. 

On one of his precious Saturdays he and his roommates entered a contest where they would take the SAT, but they could take it as a group and use any tools they wanted: calculators, the internet, family priests; with the prize being $20,000. The team they assembled included an SAT tutor who got a 1600 (there were a few 1600s) and they took the time to devise a strategy: mini teams of two to check each other's work and a massive shared spreadsheet. And drum roll: they got a score that was lower than any of them had gotten when taken the normal way. HA!!! I believe they came 64th out of 580. Thomas has not really figured out how to handle this but says simply if no team (as was reported) got a perfect score with all of this help, then we have entered a new dimension. 

In this blog I was planning on complaining about being exiled to my Telegraph Hill tower: a sort of a Napoleon meets Rapunzel sob story, but war broke out in Europe and thwarted my dreams of whining. I found the news so upsetting- it reminded me of being a kid in the 80s worried about nuclear war, where your thoughts keep spinning around bouncing off a wall of fear. Our little fund of course doesn’t look so stable with drunk Chechens guarding nuclear power plants, so Thomas was not available to console me. He just spent a lot of time adjusting leverage and pining for the weekend. 

Friends in Zurich were genuinely worried about things, as was my father in law when I asked him. He is neither sentimental nor patriotic- rather, he wants as many passports as possible so he can get out. He believes in leaving unstable places whenever possible, but maintains it is better to be under Russian rule than dead. This I suppose is a legitimate point of view, but I think if I could be the woman safely in Poland or the one who gave the Russian soldiers sunflower seeds so something would grow on their graves, I really think I would rather be the latter. 

I read in the FT that there were some Russian soldiers who just shot their own commandant because really that seemed quicker. Oh I know Gandhi would groan, but aren’t we all loving these Ukrainians? Don’t we all want to believe some things are worth being dead for? 

Anyway I arrived in Europe in this fragile state and skiing just seemed so ridiculous. Luckily I was surrounded by the A team of Harumi and her husband Martin; and while Harumi was busy fixing another broken soul, I had a few days with Martin and Thomas. This turned out to be exactly what I needed. Martin is a very funny extroverted German who rumor has it fell in love with his wife when he watched her take her ski guide test down some cliff. He always seems happy and yodels as he leads you off a ledge, but he has enormous ski guide eyes that make you think maybe you will survive it all: the cliff, the Russians, and the Austrian diet. It's like being looked at with blue beacons. I greeted him by explaining that I was seriously worried about dying in a nuclear explosion far from Frederick, and skiing seemed banal. (I may have quoted Camus). When he said nothing in response,  I repeated my fears, counting them on my little mittened hand; but he just continued looking at me and said what these types always say: “Let’s go skiing Ellie”. 

Harumi had put the fear of God in him telling him under no circumstances was I to die that day, so he was reasonable: a 25 minute stroll up a hill and a very long uncomplicated ski down. I had mentioned Harumi always brought me a thermos of tea and chocolates, and not to be undone he somehow manifested a restaurant in the woods where we got coffee - cappuccinos even, on fur blankets. We then took a bus and had lunch at an actual ski museum (pro move) and then somehow skied more and more and more. It seemed slightly too long for me to be away from Frau Schneider’s bosom….preferring as I do, to get home in time for tea, but I didn’t think about Ukraine once. 

He and Thomas hatched a plan to hike up a hill under the full moon to dinner one night, and ski home. I wanted Thomas to go first and report back, and I can say I blew it. It really sounded sublime. I have never skied under the influence of wheat beer and ham, but I will in December for sure. 

Most days after that we skied with Harumi who really took apart all of our styles. Frederick needs to widen his hands and Thomas should make his knees fractionally more parallel.

My problems are too numerous to count here, but we all tried very hard to make Harumi happy. 

When she is not skiing she is a shy polite, lovely Japanese woman. But on skis….on skis honey she is the maestro, she is the wind, she is what makes women beautiful. I burst with pride when I see the Austrian men stop to watch her, with Thomas and Frederick and me trailing her like her crazed baby ducklings or perhaps drunk bridesmaids...I am not sure of the metaphor. 

Anyway what can I say? Lech is a salve for the nervous soul. The mountains are noble and kind but best of all, they are unflappable. (If they aren't worried about Russia, why should we be?) So consider going to the mountains for your next wartime vacation! Chances are you will be fed and watered with sunshine, and you will feel better. You will also hear all the advice a person needs to hear to be happy: 

Gather the people you love, get your knees in the right position; and take flight.

Ellie and Martin at the top; coffee in our hearts

The hills were tinged with red Sahara dust this year.
 

Harumi and her student

On the night ski under stars

The heaven of that terrace lunch after a hard morning

Two lunatics on their way out

Love this one...Harumi intenselywatching Frederick's technique

News from the York

"Every human being is a poet, a masker, a warrior a dancer" 
Opening words from artists Levitt, Loeb and Agee in their movie on Spanish Harlem at Moma. 

Big apple greetings from suite 1606 The Carlyle hotel, New York, NY.  This is as far east we go this year, alas, having cancelled beloved Lech. As my bloggies are aware, this city is very dear to me - a celebration of so many things I love about the United States: the humor and optimism and bravery and neurosis and aspiration and absurdity and in your face capitalism. It is just so unapologetic, and as a person who apologies all the time; I rather like the vibe. Despite what the Fox News hosts say, nothing is more American than New York f ing city. (It should be noted that they themselves are headquartered here; because no one wants to be left out of the action). New York has and forever will march along, tearing down historical buildings to build another Starbucks, because that is what we do says New York: 
We make money. 

In fact I didn't realize just how Starbucks-y the place is. In my mind, it was more like Paris than that- but San Francisco has a much stronger funky cafe game. We rule in the number of hipster places with vinyl records and micro breweries. Sure, one could find those things in Brooklyn, but this entry is about the man with the hat with the tan (that is how I was taught how to spell Manhattan). 

 I had never ever taken a trip just to New York; being as I usually am en route to some place else. So we had two great weeks of just walking up and down every neighborhood, which was a delight, and rather eye opening. I was rendered speechless at the sight of one of the really long streets that head North/South: the endless, electrifying combination of giant buildings and human ants. What is new, at least to me, is how there seem to be no "bad" areas of town anymore. It has all been pretty much gentrified- we walked all the way north around the park with no fear of Harlem- a place that now has 20 million dollar penthouses; and then we walked around the Lower East Side which had a few pit bulls off leash, but also young blondes with yoga mats. 

New York was the offspring you will recall of the Dutch East India trading company - a corporation of investors and capitalists, and that is pretty much what it is today. Yes one hears about the artists and the opera, and it is still astonishing to turn a quiet corner at the Frick Madison and run smack dab into a Rembrandt. But in every museum is prominently placed the name of the rich person that made it possible. They make the money, then use it to lord over their fellow citizens. I am not saying we don't do this in California, but New York invented it...or at least was the first to borrow the whole patron of the arts as power play, from the Europeans. (One phrase you don't see much in New York City is: "gift from anonymous.") 

Our schedule was the same every day: walk 15 miles or so and see a museum. We managed the Whitney twice, the Met twice, the Neue Gallerie, the Frick, and MOMA, as well as a walk from Brooklyn all the way home to the Carlyle (walking across the Brooklyn Bridge was a highlight).  In the evenings we were shut out of any really trendy restaurants because we had not planned 6 months in advance- when we asked our concierge he either offered us 9:45 p.m.on Monday night, or told us the requirements meant going on line at 3 a.m. and swearing allegiance to Zoroastrianism. So we ate at a lot of small, charming Italian places- because New York is just simply very Italian. The majority of hip places to eat are not in the Upper East Side of course, but it is daunting to be tucked in to your little place after 15 miles of walking, only to fight traffic in an uber- all for the thrill of a samosa. So the size of New York is kind of misleading: people tend to stay in their little hood, because it is a pain in the ass to move yourself through space. I have friends on the Upper East Side who have almost never been to the Upper West. 

Oh speaking of samosas- I resolved to go down the list of one magazine's "25 essential New York restaurants, and Number 13 was a dosa stand in Washington square park. A man from Sri Lanka has been serving up vegan dosas and samosas for 15 years and has a cult following, so I dragged Thomas. Long story short we waited an hour in quite chilly weather for a tasty (but whatever) little lunch. On a warm day with no line, it would have been grand, but here is the thing about New York these days: it is safer and cleaner than at most times in its history, but that impression changes rather dramatically when you stop  for an hour. Once you stop moving, you see the grime and human misery that is a any large city (except Tokyo)- the addicts with a jar of peanut butter in their hand; the hustler trying to shame you out of your lunch or place in line. When we were walking, Thomas said I was practically singing "Start Spreading the Neeewwws!!!, but once we stopped, we had to beat back the masses like the pros we now were. 

But that is New York isn't it?  It giveth and it then it taketh away your lunch money-
and how we love it all. 

This Cannot be Broken

Note from parents weekend before I forget all in the tropics. 

 I really do love Chicago. Yes, it has a certain grimness to it- the weather, the gang infested areas, the deep dish pizza; but where New York makes you feel like you are bothering it, Chicago is glad to see you. We had all kinds of weather: from quite warm to cold and torrential rain. We ate a lot of red meat and truffle fries, and we saw as much Chico as we could. I can report that the U Chicago parent body has an above average aggregate IQ. This was evident when we went to a class on exoplanets put on for the parents. The professor seemed young and slightly nervous, probably because of the large crowd. The room was full 20 minutes before the official start time, and such was the enthusiasm for the topic, people were turned away. Because she was so nice she said people could just jump in any time with questions. Hands shot up. Yes? A man in a turban wanted the exact dimensions of the Bary center of the star known as X#$DF&# in the Orneo galaxy. Then another one from France spoke in a language only the two of them could understand; this was followed by the class brown noser who asked a question every third minute. I mumbled to Thomas I just wanted to know if 9 planets was a lot or a little (I am very competitive about my solar system) and that of course was my super sly way of getting her take on the Pluto question without actually asking her. By the end she looked frazzled and happy to be rid of us; my mother was euphoric announcing  she not understand one word. Anyway, U Chicago is a fun place to spend the day; it exudes a certain calm - a walled city offering a respite from the winds of stupid blowing around the country. Chicago police for example, who lost more officers to Covid than any other manner of death, are threatening to walk off the job if they have to get vaccinated. But at the University, one can rest one's weary head listening to the soothing words of foreign astronomy buffs. 

 F saw a list of FUN THINGS TO DO IN CHICAGO (or it might have been fun things to do in the midwest) and one was a behind an old abandoned lot on the campus were gamma ray detectors built by the University of Chicago and sent to space by Nasa in 1985. But apparently they didn't know what to do with them after, so they are just sitting there in the empty parking lot. I am sure you know where this is heading: Thomas wants them for the office (insert weird face emoji). 

F is now called on to entertain us with dollops of his knowledge like a sort of bespectacled court jester. He was telling us about an exam question for which he received only partial credit, a ruling he felt was a bit nitpicky. It has something to do with a given subgroup of matrices of the Hilbert space…I think Frederick did not identify the subbest of groups. Or maybe he did. Who knows. Anyway Thomas dives in like an old timer with a few tricks still up his sleeve and ties this it all up somehow by droning a bit and then says "and of course this cannot be broken" which are the only words I understand, because they are my mantra. 

Next post will include palm trees I promise!

Gamma Ray detector fun

Tell the Cows you are Vegan

Lech am Arlberg is a mountain village and an exclusive ski resort in the Bludenz district in the westernmost Austrian state of Vorarlberg, on the banks of the river Lech. Lech was settled and founded in the first half of the 14th century by Walser migrants from the canton of Wallis in Switzerland. Until the nineteenth century, it was known as "Tannberg". Subsequently, the full name "Tannberg am Lech" gave rise to the present name "Lech".The church of St Nicholas, which is thought to have been built around 1390, was the parish church of the Tannberg administrative district, and there was also a Tannberg district court in Lech until the dissolution of the Tannberg district in 1806.In recent decades, the once small town has developed into a flourishing community, thanks to the influence of winter tourism and, increasingly, by summer tourism. 

I was walking along the other day when I ran into some cows. They are enormous and docile, with a reputation for being dim witted. Occasionally they can be protective of their babies when dogs are on the trail, and once on the Kriegrhorn one of them took a shine to Rainer and almost knocked him over trying to cuddle; but they are harmless. On this last walk I stopped to talk to one and was telling her how sorry I was about all the burgers and how she was such a good girl, when my SIRI went on and said "Thank you!". 

The whole code red for the planet is making me nervous and sad as I wander the hills. When I was young, I would not have appreciated the appeal of a rushing river, but now I stop and gaze almost every time. If I am hot, I wash my face and cool my feet in it; if I am tired, I sit and watch. I always wish I could show you guys how lovely it is, but nothing really photographs as well as it should. I will post a video and photos tomorrow.

There is a waiter here who is so good Luis noticed him at an event, and we all think he should switch teams and play for the Almhof . That is how in deep we are ...we are now recruiting for the Schneiders. He knows every thing you want your waiter to know about you; and is discreet about the rest. If you and your husband share one raw egg with four spoons at breakfast after praying to the sunflower God, he has no opinions. 

But if, like us, you want tabs on your elderly parents' caloric intake, he is your man. When we came looking for them on the lunch terrace he came up to us and simply said: "Toasted ham and cheese for both." Best of all, he makes funny comments on our orders sort of like Pop used to when he called us "short hitters". I asked for the salad and then the main course only (the daily menu has five courses on offer- you can have all or none). And he responded: "So you will have a salad and then a long, slow, expanse of nothingness until the veal, yes?  He is going in my pocket when we leave. (If only I could fit a cow in too).

I have learned at this advanced age that my steps when hiking are too big, and this makes me unnecessarily tired. Thomas explained this (a little late in the game in my opinion) on a really steep part and had me follow him for a while in these little Minnie Mouse steps. I wonder if this is the way one climbs Everest. 

The word for ice cream and the word for ice are the same in German. This shows how little regard the German people have for either. 

This year the town is filled with beautiful dogs that lie under the table at restaurants. We can't get over how well behaved they are and how our own dog would not, shall we say, fit in. We haven't even heard one bark. (Thomas says he thinks he heard one barking at the Berghof, but it was shot.) 

Our two Hs (Henry and Hanna) have made a big splash on the local scene. Daily they can be found at the golf course or tennis courts or on a scenic hike, or a local party, or most exclusive of all- with Luis S inside the Almhof which is of course not open. (Luis is tucked away for the summer in a comfy three bedroom suite). It's like night at the museum where one can stroll the halls at leisure when all the guests are gone, but this museum has an indoor pool and a two story wine cellar. 

I asked Thomas when during this summer was he happiest, and he said running downhill after a long slog up the other day. It doesn't sound like much, but it is empty brain, full heart, laughing legs; pure joy in the palm of your hand. 

Nothing Bad Ever Happens in Confoederatio Helvetica

 

We are now fully tucked into the Gasthof Post here in Lechy Lech- rain is falling after a sunny day, so all is good. One H. Tan is visiting us here and seems to have taken to the Austrian lifestyle quite quickly- a super star guest in all ways.

Had a few days in Switzerland a country whose cleanliness, order, and beauty never fail to amaze me. In the “Nothing bad ever happens in Switzerland” column, we were walking down the famed Bahnhofstrasse - a street that looks like it could be actually paved in gold, when we saw a woman fly off her bicycle into the street (it was rainy and the tram lines are really slippery). I kid you not, before we could even cross over to get to her, there appeared two police vans as if they follow people on rainy days who look iffy on bikes. The whole Covid scare seems to be, for now, in the Swiss re view mirror : we ate at one of our favorite restaurants in town and it was absolutely full. One had to wear a mask at the buffet but that was the only nod to the virus.

We snuck out most mornings to get strong coffee and this mango birchemuesli I become attached to. The Wehlie parent body do not, no way, no how understand the concept of going out for breakfast (one eats in high heels and pearls at home). We had to explain to them every morning what exactly we did. “But where did you do this? Who brought it to you?’ The interesting part was in front of the cafe was an area that was meant for buses, pedestrians, trucks, cars, children on scooters- anything. Apparently research has shown that fewer pedestrians die when motorists share the space with them without any lines telling anyone where to go. It assumes that people in cars don’t want to run over the kid holding a lollipop, and it of course works. Because nothing bad ever happens in Switzerland. 

Took a long walk as usual and saw all kinds of things one does not normally see from the car, but are so exquisitely Swiss in their diversity. For no discernible reason,  there was a mini park for goats where they had their own little house with shelving on the side so the goats could feel they were high up on a Swiss mountain; a state of the art military trying facility where men were fully decked out with M -4 rifles and hand grenades (against runaway goats perhaps); fields of tall corn; large expensive property for horse riding and boarding; and a public shooting range to train the public against invading Germans. My point is, it is this strange combination of great wealth and farming; neutrality during war time, but heavily militarized. 

So here we are in Lech sleeping behind enemy lines as I call it (the Post is the main competitor to the Almhof) . We are trying to get as much of Austria into Henry’s stomach as we can in 10 short days. So far he has had his first Weiner schnitzel, and Kaiserschmarrn as well as my favorite- Tafelspitz (boiled beef) with spinach purée and apple horseradish. F seems to have discovered the joy of an open bar and how beers magically appear before them whenever they look parched. I keep mumbling about losing brain cells but they seem to think a year of Exeter health class has them up to speed. 

We have dined with the Schneidies and scion Luis took the boys around; he is now away for a few days then back here with the brothers from a German/American family who come at Christmas. Best of all we get Hanna! She comes tomorrow for 10 days…we are sure to be more popular with her around. 

The vibe at this hotel is really so different: they embrace the whole antlers on every wall and angels frescoed on bed frame look. My beloved black turtlenecks across the road have gone in a different alpine direction shall we say. 

Our first night we met a couple speaking American English who are originally from Albany New York; they now live in a pretty town on a lake not far from here. “Oh why did you decided to move to Austria?” I ask. The man who is in late 70s looks at me for a long menacing moment and says “Because we just couldn’t live in America any more”. I say oh….what year did you move? 

“2010”. 

So we figure 89% chance they left because Obama was smelly and when we told them we lived in San Francisco, they stopped speaking to us. It’s like being in high school with 80 year olds who snub you in the lunch room, if at this high school the  cool crowd wore dirndls and boiled wool jackets  (right wing chic). I feel like yelling across the dining room: : "So you left because of Obama care only to move to a country where you enjoy FREE UNIVERSAL COVERAGE???? "

FOR YOUR INFORMATION I AM A VERY POPULAR PERSON-I HAVE A COLD PLUNGE NAMED AFTER ME ACROSS THE STREET! !!

You see why we need Hanna to come. At this rate I will have no one to talk to besides the antlers. 

Spoiled Swiss Goats

Dueling Birchermuesli

Tafelspitz at the Burg Hotel 

Käsespätzle at the Krigeralpe