Moon Fun

Los Angeles: Return to New York

2009-06-14T09:39:00.004-04:00

Our flight home leaves at 12:40, so we have just enough time to pack and eat breakfast leisurely.

We decide to walk up the hill they call Palm Street to Sunset for breakfast. Once up the hill, we reject the counter-style coffee-and-pastry places and realize we don’t have time to wander far.

The walk downhill is much easier and I enjoy the palm trees and the simple red flowers I’ve seen all over Los Angeles. I’m not sure what they are called. Close up, they are simple, but clusters of them create a magnificent swath of color.

I will remember those flowers, manicured lawns and the landscaped yards as the classic Los Angeles image in my mind.

Burbank, California: Warner Brothers Studios

2009-06-13T15:38:00.003-04:00

Gene and I eat breakfast in the Le Petite Hotel’s roof garden. The dainty buffet counter offers lox, dill and capers on tiny bagels, scrambled frittata with mushroom and zucchini, muffins, and fruit.

A muffin made its way onto my plate—during the few seconds I blacked out—but it wasn’t the sweet, dessert kind. Vacations will do that to me—I wouldn’t touch a muffin with a ten-foot pole in real life.

Cousin Bill invites us to visit Warner Brothers Studios today where he is working. Our names are at the special visitor’s gate and we are instructed to park in special Parking Lot V. Having a Parking Lot V implies there are Parking Lots A thru U and underscores the vastness of Warner Brothers.

Bill and his colleagues are waiting for a revised version of the movie he is working on, so the version he received yesterday is useless. In his hurry-up-and-wait vocation, Bill has time to walk us around the lot. When we were in LA a few years ago, we took the official WB tour, but now we get a behind-the-scenes tour. We see the ER sets being torn down, since the final episode just aired.

Bill shows us the parking spaces belonging to the bigwigs. To a WB employee, this hierarchy is important to know. Bill points out the former offices of the Hollywood mogul and studio founder Jack Warner, and the bungalow where Clint Eastwood works, and of course, Clint’s parking spaces.

After Warner Brothers, we do some quick shopping at the Beverly Center, a huge mall just a mile from our hotel.

Bill recommended a Japanese restaurant to us, but we are tired and decide to go to the rooftop one more time for dinner. We have a cocktail shaker of Calamari with a sweet red sauce, and tomato-and-mozzarella skewers. I have Penne Pomodoro and Gene has a slab of Ahi Tuna with a sauce of avocado bits, olives and tomatoes in a vinaigrette sauce. This meal is worth replicating at home, if we can.

Los Angeles: Babimbop in Koreatown

2009-06-12T00:00:00.000-04:00

Gene and I are meeting his cousin Bill and Bill’s girlfriend Aura in Koreatown for dinner. The restaurant is seven miles away and we decide to take a taxi so we can enjoy drinks with dinner.

The Beverly Hills Cab Co. taxi waits outside our hotel behind a long, gray limo intended for the couple we shared the elevator with. The blonde girl spoke of the scenes she has to shoot tomorrow and I wonder if she is a big actress. In Los Angeles, anyone or everyone may be an actor or star.

As we ride out to Koreatown, we pass “malls” look like office buildings, reminiscent of many buildings we saw in South Korea. Each mall level has signs all around the perimeter of the building, but no display windows.

We meet Bill and Aura at the Beverly Soon Tofu House, decorated in Korean-rustic. They are waiting for us with a spread of side dishes on the table. Aura offers us some of her jug of Barley Tea. I order two Sojus, but I forgot that Soju is the strong vodka-like drink and not the semi-sweet wine drink I thought it was. “(Bek se ju” is the Korean wine drink that I couldn’t think of.)

Aura asks me if I like Babimbop, and I think it is the dumplings we got at the little Korean storefront in Changwon. Turns out, Babimbop is a big bowl of salad fixings with a fried egg on top. I copy Aura as she adds a sweet red sauce, rice and soy sauce to the salad and tosses it up with her chopsticks. We also get a bubbling soup in which the waitress cracks a raw egg, one-handed. We ordered it medium-spicy, but it is still too spicy for our taste.

Gene and Bill spend the dinner riffing from topic to topic, making segues that only make sense to them, but they are having so much fun, it is great to watch.

Los Angeles: Burke Williams Spa

2009-06-11T00:00:00.000-04:00

I have waited five years to return to Burke Williams, the sumptuous California spa chain. Five years ago on my birthday, I scheduled a basic $99 facial at Burke Williams on Sunset.

The experience was finer than any facial I’ve had at Bliss or anywhere. On the bed with a cooling mask on my face and my parrafim-waxed hands inside terry oven mitts, I thought I must be getting the deluxe package. Whatever this cost, I would pay it. It was my birthday, after all. But the mind-blowing pampering was the $99 facial after all.

Today I make an appointment for a basic facial (now $105) and a half-hour Japanese Shiatzu massage. Only my second massage, I’m not sure the difference between Shiatzu and the massage I got at Milk and Honey in Austin.

I am led down the carpeted corridor and into the lush spa area. I am given a robe and slippers and I consider a dunk in the Jacuzzi, but a nude woman leans against the wall with her feet in the water. I can’t see what she is doing with her hands.

I opt for a few minutes in the Quiet Room instead. The long, narrow Quiet Room holds a row of pods with plush seats the size of a first-class airline seat with rounded seclusion barriers. I sink into the end pod and start writing in my journal. The stillness reminds me how infrequently I experience true quiet and I am able to write quickly. But too soon, it is time to go into the main lounge and meet my facial technician.

The main lounge is like a dark, cozy living room with plush couches and a fireplace. Melka, my technician, retrieves me after only a minute or two. She examines my skin and notices a little dryness, a few broken capillaries, a little sun damage on the sides, but overall I get a favorable review. She talks me into a peel ($20). Under the warm blanket and hearing her expert, soothing voice, she can talk me into anything at this moment.

She advises a separate moisturizer with an overlay of sunscreen no less than SPF 30. She also suggests a Vitamin C serum. After the pampering (I am blocking the few extractions she did), I go to my massage.

The masseuse, a small Japanese man gives me a choice of pressure. Like picking the heat of your salsa, medium always seems a safe choice. The Shiatsu feels good, a lot of pressing on a single point. After the service, I shower and step into one of the Jacuzzis since the busy nude woman and everyone else is gone.

After another great spa experience, the California sunshine feels like it is warming a worthy being. Leaving Bliss in New York and hitting the crowded noisy sidewalk, some of the newly purchased bliss gets left behind.

Los Angeles: A West Hollywood Pad

2009-06-10T00:00:00.000-04:00

Lily takes us to The Hall, a French restaurant in West Hollywood.

Gene has a poached-egg caviar appetizer and Lily and I both have a layered salmon-potato thing. Lily and I think along the same lines—we both select the black cod on fava beans for our main course. Gene orders the Kansas steak (from Kansas, France?). Lily gives Gene’s steak high praise: it is better than the steaks served where she works, she says.

Lily takes us to see her apartment, new since we last visited LA. She lives next door to Paramount Studios. Cool.

Her building gate opens into a courtyard with a fountain. Since she lives on the first floor, Lily can feel like the courtyard belongs to her. Lily’s cat Tiggy looks out onto the courtyard, stretches his arms on the screen and gets his paw stuck. He does this several times.

A dramatic Indonesian four-post daybed filled with brown, plush pillows dominates her living room. An orange lamp curves behind it. Her coffee table is so large she practices yoga on it.

The rest of Lily’s apartment is just as dramatic as the living room. Built in 1923, the ceiling meets the walls with curves rather than 90 degree angles. Her bathroom holds a separate shower stall and a deep tub with a sloped back. Sea-green tiles go up two-thirds of the wall and a gold-framed mirror hangs above the tub.

Lily has large mirrors all over the apartment, one hangs over the fireplace, and several tall, heavy ones with thick dark frames are propped against walls. The place feels like lush 1930s. If it were seventy years ago, Lily could be packing for a weekend as a guest at the Hearst castle (after leaving work at Paramount!).

Heading back to the hotel, we stop at a grocery store to pick up some bottled water for the room. Los Angeles tap water tastes yucky and I am accustomed to the good-tasting New York City tap water. Our tap water may taste good, but New York City grocery stores are tiny and filthy. I love visiting real grocery stores—anywhere. Walking up and down the wide aisles, I am always overwhelmed by the number of choices. The wine aisle distracts us from our water mission and we buy a couple bottles of vino.

Lily circles and circles, looking for a parking spot; it takes almost a half hour to find a bank lot where she pays eight dollars. It is about six blocks from the hotel. Nothing like jumping out of a cab and letting it drive off.

The three of us hang out in our room, drinking wine, looking at photos and watching videos on You Tube.

Los Angeles: Le Petite Hotel

2009-06-09T00:00:00.000-04:00

We move at a crawl down the long Santa Monica Blvd, looking for our turn-off, San Vincente. We booked a room at Le Petite Hotel, a boutique hotel on residential Cynthia Street, a few blocks from Sunset and close to Lily’s apartment.

The hotel entrance is framed by a semi-stained glass awning with floral curves against clear glass. The garage door is hidden behind a blanket of ivy. The actor/desk clerk stands behind a rich, dark-wood topped counter in a tiny lobby. He wears a vaudevillian jacket of black and white vertical stripes. Wooden cubbies—old-fashioned room key holders—line the wall behind the desk.

Original paintings, one after another, fill the walls going down the corridors, which are painted with gold-leaf curlicues. The room doors are covered in puffy orange leather and the room numbers are branded onto a leather rectangle.

Our room has a dining nook with a refrigerator, sink and counter top. The sunken sleeping area is a step down and a tiny wrought-iron railing separates the two, making the room feel like an apartment. The bathroom is tiled in tiny squares of green shades. The bathroom vanity is the only piece that doesn’t work for me, painted a distressed blue-green with yellow knobs.

Lily comes by to pick us up for dinner and to have a look-see at the hotel. We walk up to the roof of the four-story building. We walk around the elevated saltwater pool and its orange lounge chairs, white umbrellas and some orange cushioned chaises as large as double beds. There is a sunken cocktail level area that has heat poles for chilly nights.

A garden restaurant runs along one side of the building.

California: Foggy Santa Barbara

2009-06-08T00:00:00.000-04:00

We are 240 miles from Los Angeles and we are eager to get there early to spend time with Gene’s cousin and our friend Lily. We fortify ourselves with the complimentary breakfast at the Pelican Cove Inn, serving hot food as well as pastries and toast. Though not fancy, the Pelican Cove Inn takes good care of its customers.

We drive past the Harmony Cellars Winery in San Luis Obispo and remember the lovely wine we had last night.

We plan to have lunch in Santa Barbara today, but it is too early to eat when we approach town. We will just walk down the pier, we think. Getting off the highway is confusing. There is Carrillo, Cabrillo and Castillo streets.

We park in an open lot and start walking toward the pier. The weather is cold, foggy and clammy and we are not getting an impression of the real Santa Barbara. Under the fog is a beautiful seaside town, but it is not making an appearance for us today. At this point, I just want a bathroom and a Starbucks. We settle for a gas station for both needs.

On the highway near Ventura, we see a huge shopping mall. So huge, the mall is more like a little city. We are trying to get back on Highway 101 after the gas stop, but we end up on the service road that parallels the highway. We wind through the mall-city.

We wonder if this Ventura Highway of the 1972 hit song by America. Is it Ventura Boulevard? Ventura Avenue? Ventura Street? Most likely, it’s Ventura Freeway.

We are coming upon LA fast and, anxious to get there, we decide to skip Highway 1 through Malibu. I may regret the shortcut later, but today I am tired and focused on our destination.

Cambria, California: Pelican Cove Inn

2009-06-07T00:00:00.000-04:00

After the Hearst Castle tour, Gene and I drive six miles south to Cambria. We are staying on the beach at the Pelican Cove Inn in the middle of the motel row called Moonstone Beach Drive.

The beach motels are only a mile or two from town. So unlike last night, we will have no trouble getting to a restaurant there.

A middle-aged man with white hair checks us in the Pelican Cove. Eager to play concierge, he describes the town’s restaurant options. A thin woman—his wife, perhaps—works the switchboard. She throws in her more ornery two cents from time to time without looking up from her work.

We ask about taking a taxi to town and the Pelican proprietors give us the number of Cambria’s only cab driver. Rob also owns the local towing company. He sometimes picks up taxi customers in his tow truck.

Our room is fussy-cute with a ceiling fan, a fireplace and maroon flowered curtains. A lonely hot tub sits behind a green plastic fence in the corner of the parking lot. The fence helps you not remember you are soaking in the parking lot. We take a fast dip.

Gene and I call the two recommended restaurants and of course, both are closed on Tuesdays.

We go with what might have been our first choice without outside advice, Robin’s, whose menu offers vegetarian dishes.

Taxi Man Rob says he won’t be able to pick us up for an hour and a half.

Forget Robin’s, we will walk to the Moonstone Beach Bar & Grill, two doors down from our motel. Our front-desk friends gave this one a middling review initially. Gene rings the front desk to see if Cambria has an alternative to Rob, and they up their rating of the place.

Looking for a job? Start a competing taxi business in Cambria, California. You only need one taxi, two if you want to have the biggest fleet in town.

Gene and I sit inside next to the window overlooking the water. The night is a little chilly to sit on the porch.

We order a bottle of Harmony Cellars Chardonnay, made ten miles away in San Luis Obispo. The Oysters Rockefeller look oddly cheesy, but Gene says they are delish. Good food doesn’t have to be pretty.

We both order grilled Mahi Mahi. The fish lies under a light tomato cream sauce with shrimp. The food, good and hearty, deserves a better rating from the Pelican Cove Inn. Too cold for a walk on the beach, we return to our room to watch The Biggest Loser.

San Simeon: The Hearst Castle Tour

2009-06-05T20:42:00.006-04:00

The Hearst Castle tour is trip back in time to the 1930's, Hollywood's glamour days, when an invitation to spend a weekend at William Randolph Hearst's "ranch" was coveted by celebrities.

As our tour bus chugs up the five-mile hill, we pass the grassy fields where Hearst housed the largest private zoo in America. The bus drops us off in front of the Castle, where Bob, our tour guide, waits to greet us.

Bob talks to every guest, noting their hometowns and working that information into his Castle commentary. (“No pool as big as this in Podunk, right?”) A large man with a ranger hat and squishy black tennis-shoes-disguised-as-dress-shoes, Bob sucks us all in with his booming voice and love of Hearst’s Castle and grounds. He has the special personality of a long-time tour guide—thirty-one years—infinite patience and charm.

Hearst’s Neptune Pool, as dramatic as I have seen in photos, glimmers in the heat. The pool is surrounded by Greek or Roman pillars and marble statues. The confluence of scents mingling in the garden rises up to my nostrils, creating a single, pleasing perfume. The tour group walks through one of the four-bedroom guest houses, Casa del Sol. Period clothes are hanging in the bathrooms or lain out on the short beds. (Were people that much shorter in the thirties?)

In the main house, Casa Grande, Italian church chairs are built into the walls of the long living room in the main house. Above the chairs hang grand tapestries, all hundreds of years old.

The dining room features an endlessly long, set for ten guests in the center. The packaged Hearst Castle tour does expose a weakness of the man, lest we think they are covering something up. Bob reveals Hearst’s scandalous love of low-brow ketchup. The elegant table is set up with ketchup and mustard at reachable intervals on the table to prove it. Would he have used the more sophisticated “catsup”?

We walk through the billiard room and the indoor pool, magnificent with blue and gold leaf tiles. The indoor pool, built underneath the outdoor tennis courts, is empty, exposing the delicate blue tile pattern on the bottom.

San Simeon, California: The Hearst Castle

2009-06-05T17:07:00.005-04:00

William Randolph Hearst’s life and majestic home are immortalized in Orson Welles’ great movie Citizen Kane. The Castle, called “Xanadu” in the film, was never completed during the lifetime of WR Hearst (aka Charles Foster Kane).

Gene and I arrive at San Simeon, home to the Hearst Castle for a tour. Citizen Kane and the documentary about its making, The Battle Over Citizen Kane, reveal much more about Hearst than the sanitized National Geographic film we watch at San Simeon’s Welcome Center.

The promotional film emphasizes Hearst’s love of the central California coast and the story of Hearst’s childhood. WR Hearst’s father strikes it rich in silver mining and he purchases the huge expanse of land shortly after. Hearst’s mother takes her ten-year-old son to a long Grand Tour of Europe. The old countries spark his life-long passion for ancient art, sculpture and architecture.

Little Willie grows up and makes a few bucks of his own, turning the San Francisco Chronicle into a newspaper empire. Today, the San Francisco Chronicle is one of the papers most in danger of shutting down in the changing media environment.

When Hearst inherits the land, he begins building the Castle, stuffing it full of sculptures, tapestries and other art he gathers from around the world. He supervises every detail of project, sparing no expense and redoing some of it at whim. He refashioned the Neptune Pool three times.

The National Geographic film ignores the existence of Hearst’s longtime girlfriend, Marion Davies, who played an important role as de facto hostess of the Castle. The film also skips the financial troubles Hearst faced at the end of his life, where Davies proved she became more than a gold digger.

Hwy 1: Carmel to Big Sur

2009-06-04T00:00:00.000-04:00

I figured out how to use the “Sports” setting on my camera this morning, so I go overboard taking photos from the window of the moving PT Cruiser. I’m trying to keep the side view mirror out of the view finder, but it’s tough. I have to hold the camera dangerously far out of the window.

As we approach Big Sur, the coastline changes. It’s more rugged, the trees bigger. I get a small sense of the large beauty of Big Sur. I watch people leave their cars to begin hikes and imagine how much more beautiful Big Sur is on the interior. This is the part of California that bewitched writers like Henry Miller, Hunter Thompson and Jack Kerouac.

We plan an early lunch today at the scenic Nepenthe restaurant and then to reach the Hearst Castle in San Simeon in time for our pre-purchased 3:20pm tour.

Nepenthe is built into the hillside. There is an outdoor café, Kevah, and several shops. We browse the shops with a growing group who is waiting for the restaurant to open at 11:30. We could eat at Kevah, but I think it’s worth the wait for the better vistas upstairs.

Finally, at 11:30 and not a minute before, the restaurant opens and we are seated on the back patio. We sit at a counter that faces out, the best seat in the house if you’ve come for the views.

A retired couple who live in San Francisco sits on my left. A bird with a vibrantly blue body lands on the rail a just a couple feet in front of me. I wait because I don’t think can get my camera in time. But the bird isn’t moving, so I make a slow grab for the camera. He taunts, then flies off and I miss the photo. The four of us watch the trees for another opportunity, but the bird never comes close again.

Our new friends warn us it will take the remainder of the day to get to San Simeon. We’re skeptical, but since they are Californians, we put weight in their advice. The stretch of road past Nepenthe twists and turns like a go-go dancer. Signs for upcoming curves seem redundant. We can only drive about 25 mph.

This part of Highway 1 is tough driving—many places are marked “Rock Slide Area” The surprise of what is behind each treacherous turn is the reward. We pass the Whale Watching Café, 30 miles north of San Simeon. How often does the cafe deliver on its promise, I wonder.

In some places, the grass is clumps of straw. We pass one construction area where workers are installing fencing to guard against imminent-looking mudslides. The water in this area has a stained-glass effect.

Carmel Valley: An Evening on the Balcony

2009-06-03T12:00:00.001-04:00

Gene and I decide to drive into Carmel to buy some wine after we check the prices on the room-service wine list. We laugh at the $25 charge to remove the mini bar.

We spot a Safeway grocery store about one minute after pulling off the Carmel Valley Ranch property and decide we’ve driven far enough. California grocery stores are loaded with wine and we buy four local bottles. Seems like a lot, but Gene likes red; I drink white. Neither of us can pick a single bottle, so we take one nice bottle and one splurge bottle each. We select some cheeses and fresh made salsa.

Back in our quarters, I find scribbled song lyrics stashed in a coffee table book. Judging by the handwriting, I think the composer is a frustrated seven- or eight-year-old kid. “Bad Baby Song” has hit potential.

Our mood is lifted. We enjoy the Jacuzzi tub in the enormous bathroom. The bathroom is larger than some New York living spaces. It has a double sink, a vanity, a separate shower and a walk-in closet.

Padding around the suite in the lodge’s soft white robes, we order salmon and filet mignon from room service. The meals arrive, driven to us in a golf wagon. All the Carmel Valley Ranch employees drive the grounds in golf carts.

We set up a spread on the balcony, with our wine and cheeses and our room-service entrees. We bring out the candle from the bathroom and the iHome from the bedroom.

Gene sets up a playlist with California tunes and San Francisco/LA bands. Some of the songs:

“99 Miles from LA,” Art Garfunkel
“The Virgin” Gene Clark
“Sin City,” The Flying Burrito Brothers
“California Dreaming,” The Mamas and the Papas

We enjoy our warm California night on the balcony with good wine, good music and great conversation.

Carmel Valley Ranch

2009-06-02T00:00:00.000-04:00

When researching hotels, restaurants and vacation activities, sometimes I imagine the places all wrong. That’s what happened when I booked Carmel Valley Ranch.

According to “36 Hours in Carmel-by-the-Sea,” Carmel Valley Ranch is home to one of the most outstanding restaurants in the area, Citronelle. The lure of an exquisite, romantic meal enticed me to look into staying at the 400-acre Carmel Valley Ranch. Their 650-square-foot suite and two heated swimming pools for $138 sealed the deal.

I did not comprehend how far Citronelle and CVR are from the town of Carmel. If I had known, I might have opted to stay in town to visit the shops and Clint Eastwood’s Hog’s Breath Inn.

Never assume, as I did, a restaurant will be open on Monday nights. I call Citronelle belatedly to make a reservation and got the bad news. I also assumed a 400-acre ranch would have at least one more restaurant. Strike two.

As a New Yorker who cannot visualize 400 acres, I did not consider I might have to drive to either pool or the fitness center or the lounge that serves a limited, casual version of the fine-dining experience we hoped to have. A non-New Yorker may not understand our aversion to non-essential driving.

These conditions also make driving into the real Carmel for dinner an unviable option. So we will not do Carmel on this trip. Santa Cruz and Monterey were merely pit stops because I envisioned dropping our bags at our lodging and then checking out Carmel before the loveliest dinner of our trip. Realizing all this upon checking in, surrounded by the beautiful Carmel Valley, I feel bummed out.

But traveling is about adjusting itineraries and ratcheting expectations up or down. Traveling is about making lemonade when necessary. I ponder all this as I slump in a chair on our balcony that overlooks lush green hills.

I always have wanted a balcony in New York and tonight I have one. Here’s our lemonade.

Monterey: Pebble Beach & Del Monte Forest

2009-06-01T00:00:00.002-04:00

Highway 1 between Santa Cruz and Carmel is dotted with side-open trucks and small shacks selling fresh produce. I see an artichoke stand; I want to stop and buy some, but we can’t get any fresh produce home. But it’s all about eating locally, isn’t it? “Getting it home” defeats the purpose.

We stop at Old Fisherman’s Wharf in Monterey to stretch our legs. We walk halfway down the wooden pier and watch the kids play in the water below.

Happy to contribute to California’s economy, we opt to pay the $9.25 to take the 17-mile Pebble Beach. That is the only toll we pay the entire trip and I think about how much more it costs to drive down the East Coast’s lovely I-95. There really is no East Coast comparison to California’s scenic coastal drive.

Continuing on, we drive through the Del Monte forest. I’m not sure who we should be looking for, The Keebler Elves or the Jolly Green Giant? The name “Del Monte” is carved so deeply into our brains as commercial products, I can’t think of trees, only canned corn and green beans.

I follow the “Points of Interest” map we receive at the toll booth like a treasure map. We stop at several of the recommended vistas: Huckleberry Hill, Point Joe and China Rock. We cannot see the harbor seals because it is pupping season, April 1 to June 1. Temporary opaque fencing guards their privacy. This is the first of many closures we encounter on our trip.

Closures become an ongoing inside joke on our trip. If it’s Monday, then whatever I’ve planned is closed Mondays. If it’s Tuesday, our destination is closed Tuesdays, and so on.

California Hwy 1: Santa Cruz

2009-05-31T00:00:00.001-04:00

This morning, we pick up a rental PT Cruiser from downtown San Francisco and point it south toward Highway 1, beginning our drive down the coast to Los Angeles. The view is indescribable. I can’t capture its beauty on camera, nor do words do justice to it either. Only hackneyed phrases come to mind: “rugged coastline”, “craggy black rocks”. Ocean waves beat against the rocks; the spray creates a liquid fan. The California coastline must be experienced.

Just sixty miles down the coast, is crunchy Santa Cruz, on the northern edge of Monterey Bay. Santa Cruz, a hip haven with a well-scrubbed downtown, invites us in for lunch. The shopping village exudes sanitized bohemian quaintness.

The prices in the local parking garage are quaint too. At first, the sign “No $20 Bills” seems odd, but when our parking tab is $1.50, we understand.

We have lunch alfresco at Chocolate. After salmon sandwiches, Gene and I split a slice of Chocolate Ecstasy Cake and if you consider thick fudgy chocolate ecstasy, then this cake makes the grade.

We return to Highway 1, passing strawberry farms, lettuce fields and bent-back workers. We pass a paintball headquarters and a rickety military supply shop.

In Monterey County, we encounter dust clouds from tractors. Moss Landing State Beach looks a little swampy. We are surprised to see a monstrous power plant looming ahead of us across from the Moss Landing Marina. It reminds me of the monstrosities in New Jersey. I find it comical that a section of the highway is sponsored by Stardock Document Shredders.

San Francisco: Mexican Food

2009-05-30T00:00:00.000-04:00

We want Mexican food tonight. Friends from California say that California has the best Mexican food. They go as far as saying New York has no decent Mexican food at all, at the low end. They will concede that California can’t do pizza like New York.

Our hotel concierge enthusiastically recommends Maya on 2^nd and Folsom. Set back from the street in an office building plaza, I think the bar and restaurant is probably hopping during the week. But it is quiet on this Sunday night, with only four or five tables seated in the large main room. Only one person works the front of the house.

I order a pomegranate Margarita on the rocks. Our guacamole and chips arrive in a two-tier silver serving tray. Gene and I each have a lobster taco appetizer—it sounds too good to share. I order a half-portion shrimp enchilada as a main course. I wish more restaurants offered small and large portions so I can try more dishes (without sharing).

Gene and I want to stop in a bar for a nightcap after the taxi drops us back in our Financial District/North Beach neighborhood. Last night, we could only find bars, no open restaurants. Tonight, we can only find restaurants and no bars. Not exactly no bars, we poke our heads into several. The classic Vesuvio Café has no bar to speak of—only tables. We feel like chatting with locals or the bartender. Each bar we look in has either too many people or too few. Coppola’s place locks their doors by 9:30 pm. The problem must be us; we are not in the right mood.

We walk back to the hotel to have our nightcap there. Hotel bars are always perfect—always seats available, but never deserted. And San Francisco Hilton bar carries Absolut Ruby Red.

We will pick up our rental car early tomorrow to start down Highway 1. Thirty-six hours in San Francisco is not enough.

San Francisco: Taxicabs and Poetry

2009-05-29T00:00:00.000-04:00

We try to hail a cab on Stanyan Street on the edge of Golden Gate Park. Fifteen minutes later, we wonder who told us San Francisco is cab-hailing city--either our hotel concierge or the cab driver who dropped us off. Not today, it isn't.

A taxi finally pulls up; a sweaty man in sloppy business attire jumps in front of us and steals the cab. The guy can’t pretend he didn’t see us. He says, “I’ll give you $20. I really have to get somewhere.” Now he’s halfway inside the cab as he says this so his offer is no offer at all, only a way to ease his conscience. We decline: we’re tired and his conscience doesn’t deserve easing.

I bet he’s from New York.

We pop into the cozy, Victorian Stanyan Park Hotel across the street and ask the girl at the front desk to call a cab for us. She obliges us cheerfully. The girl chatters to the other couple in the lobby about a local oil store. She recommends using blood-orange oil to make brownies. Note to self. The Stanyan Park Hotel, listed on the National Registry of Historic Places, is worth considering for our next San Francisco trip.

Before dinner, we walk to City Lights Bookstore, the landmark bookstore co-founded by beat poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti. Independent book stores are rare and City Lights is probably the best known of them all. City Lights carries two copies of our friend Daniel Nester’s poetry book, God Save My Queen, Part II. Perhaps they sold out of Part I?

I buy both parts of Gore Vidal’s memoir. Gene buys a Noel Coward memoir.

San Francisco: Hanging in The Haight

2009-05-28T00:00:00.001-04:00

I leave Gene at Amoeba Records. Gene disappears in the vortex of one of America’s greatest record stores. Some might argue the Amoeba in Los Angeles is better, but we won’t be there for a few days yet.

I stroll down Haight Street, knowing I have plenty of time to wander while Gene record shops.

The iconic street seems less commercial than it did ten years ago when I walked these blocks the first time. (Does any place ever become less commercial?) But I see more small businesses and fewer franchises.

Ben and Jerry’s is still on the legendary intersection of Haight and Ashbury. An American Apparel shop is down the street. Of all the chain stores that might have wedged in, these two have a bit of hippie spirit—albeit in a less-than-authentic 21^st century way.

Haight Street is dotted with coffee shops, vintage clothing and boutique dress shops. I pass the fabled Café Cha Cha Cha; I see Cheap Thrills, the clothing-slash-head shop I browsed through last time.

The mannequin-to-beat-all-mannequins, the giant legs with fishnet stockings and red high heels still stick out a second-floor window. I stop in a couple boutiques and try on some well-priced skirts and tees.

Haight Street Haunters and Revelers

I see fewer old hippies haunting the street than more kids digging the scene, as they might say in retro-speak. Haight Street draws its panhandlers; most are young and sincere. Yet I ignore them or mumble a barely audible “sorry” as I do in New York.

One guy shouts “smile” to me as I pass; he is not offended that I give him no change. He seems genuine and now I feel bad. Trying to avoid bad karma, I give money to the next guy I see—a young guy with a dog. Nodding out he is not asking for money; but he needs it. I ask after his dog. He is pleased and I feel a little better.

A place-in-time can never be replicated and 1967 was the Summer of Love. Whether the kids hanging out are bad imitations, it beats a museum.

I meet Gene, happy with his haul from Amoeba.

San Francisco: Up Telegraph Hill

2009-05-27T00:00:00.001-04:00

A small art show is going on at an equally small park, Washington Square. We can see a row of easels from our café seats across the street. After finishing our “Bennies from Heaven,” Café Divine’s variation on the classic Eggs Benedict, we walk through the park, stop and get silly over an adorable terrier who I swear, wants to come home with us. Young families stretched out on blankets fill the park on this first beautiful day of the season.
Gene and I walk toward Telegraph Hill, mostly hoping to see the parrots we read about in The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill. The incline of the streets grow steeper and the Stairmaster jokes are losing their punch. We sit down to rest on a curb. How can anyone live so high on a hill? Cars are parked at a ninety-degree angle and street signs warn to prevent runaway cars.
We trudge slowly to the base of Coit Tower and search the trees for parrots. We see no birds, but we get the classic panoramic view of San Francisco Bay and the island of Alcatraz.

San Francisco: Zigzag Through Chinatown

2009-05-26T00:00:00.000-04:00

After I step out of the shower, I hunt for my makeup bag. I dig through our suitcases several times. Wary of how this affects the feminine psyche, Gene helps me dig. It is nowhere. I am certain I didn’t leave it behind.

In sunglasses and shorts, I ask the front-desk clerk directions to the nearest drugstore.

She tells us to walk up Stockton—the heart of San Francisco’s Chinatown—to Broadway. At least Stockton is not as impassable as New York’s Canal Street I say, but within a block or two, the street clogs with shoppers. We weave around parked cars to avoid the masses.

At Walgreen’s, we buy makeup and pick up a couple of other forgotten items. Aren’t there always forgotten items, no matter how carefully you pack your bags?

We reroute to Columbus Ave on the return. We see last night’s clubs, bars, storefronts and restaurants bathed in early Sunday sunlight. We pass some interesting spots: The World of Ginseng, Asians.com and Francis Ford Coppola’s Zoetrope studio-turned-wine-bar. I take many pictures of the Flatiron-ish building that houses Coppola’s restaurant.

Back at the hotel, I find my makeup bag, cleverly packed inside a straw hat.

Armed with brunch suggestions from the Hilton’s concierge, we head out again on the now-familiar Columbus Avenue to the Café Divine. And divine it is; the one-room cafe is constructed of beautiful, dark wood and glass. Tiny white floor tiles add to the Victorian ambiance.

We sit in one of the window tables, looking at the people dining at the sidewalk tables. A young, tattooed father hands a baby to the mother. She hold the baby girl to her shoulder and the baby flirts with us and laughs, inches away but with the glass between us.

Gene snaps a picture of an elderly patron sitting alone.

Mona Lisa: Now That's Italian

2009-05-25T00:00:00.000-04:00

Are we going to find something open at this hour? We find bars with no food; we find tortilla and Thai and Chinese places, take-out places with a chair or two in an over-lit storefront with no bar. Many restaurants are closing down; I see staffers in the windows, putting chairs up and cleaning. Too bad we didn’t arrive a few hours earlier.

I didn’t realize how close our hotel is to the Italian area, North Beach, home of the early 1950s poets and writers known as the Beat Generation. We pass City Lights, the Beat bookstore owned by Lawrence Fehrlinghetti.

Gene spots Ristorante Mona Lisa up the street and it looks open. The Mona Lisa is indeed open late, a long, narrow, sentimentally gaudy Italian restaurant, decorated with gigantic chandeliers and Renaissance-era murals.

We are seated at a small table by a window. We watch a group celebrating a birthday at the table outside. The group has been there awhile judging by the number of empty bottles on the table.

Christmas lights trim the bar and climb up the lanterns over the tables.

The tablecloths are pink, I think. Even the outdoor tables have tablecloths. Pink tablecloths represent the desire to be upscale, rather than actually being upscale. Only simple white tablecloths make a white-tablecloth restaurant. No substitutions.

But pink or white, upscale or downscale, the food is the point. A gnocchi dish on any menu makes Gene happy and The Mona Lisa offers eight gnocchi dishes. What to chose? There must be fifty pasta dishes on the menu. I love pasta and I try not to eat it too often, but with a menu like this, I must order pasta. Can you tell I’m hungry?

Gene chooses Gnocchi Pomodoro and I have Penne San Francisco (when in San Francisco . . .) Penne SF has a creamy pink sauce and bit of asparagus and crab, plus whole pieces of stone crab.

After our meal, we walk through the friendly sleaze of North Beach back to the hotel.

Night Arrival in San Francisco

2009-05-24T08:42:00.004-04:00

Landing in San Francisco 11 pm local time, we are wide awake and hungry. We taxi to the San Francisco Hilton in the Financial District. I am surprised; I have been here before. I stayed here on a business trip last year when the entire town was booked for an Oracle convention. I was here for two nights at $750 a night. (I think we’re paying $120.)

I walk into our 24^th floor room and I am sure it is the same room I stayed in before. Of course, there could be a number of rooms with the same layout, but I still suspect it is the same room. The downtown view from the window feels identical.

The desk clerk informs us the hotel restaurant is closed and recommends we walk to Columbus Avenue, three blocks up. On Columbus, we see a few gentlemen’s bars and a prostitute or two hanging on the street corner. Gene remarks that there is something benign about San Francisco sleaze.

The Amazing Race 14 Bangkok, Thailand

2009-04-12T20:20:00.019-04:00

Possessions are the big issue in this episode. After the Roadblock, a couple of teams leave their bags in waiting taxicabs. This turns out to be pivotal.
Starting out, the five remaining teams board the same flight to Bangkok, Thailand. Once there, teams taxi to a boatyard on the outskirts of town and search the grounds for their clue.
Kisha and Jen's cab goes the opposite way from Margie and Luke's. Kisha assumes that Margie told one cab driver to tell the other driver wrong directions. Jen says, "as the race goes on, the teams become a little paranoid. It's fun to watch."
Margie and Luke are the first team to reach the clue box.
Cara continues to show the ugly side of her personality, but not as dramatically as in the last leg.
"The language barrier really aggravates and frustrates me and I become a lunatic and there is nothing I can do about it." The self-admitted Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde has a real personality disorder.

Roadblock

One team member must figure out how to attach an unwieldy rod to a propeller on a longtail boat.
Margie called the Roadblock "easy" and she finishes quickly to prove it. Jaime and Cara reach the Roadblock second. After attaching the rod with only a little more difficulty than Margie, they remember to return to the cab for their bags.
Default winners of the last leg, Victor/Tammy, arrive at the boatyard at the same time as Mike/Mark. Victor sweats over the task that Margie made look easy. Tammy yells encouragement in a monotone voice, "great job, Victor, great job." She must be very tired to phone it in like that.
After the propeller is attached, teams must navigate their boats through the Bangkok canals and search through the maze of routes on their map to find a certain peninsula and their next clue.
Riding in the boat, Tammy and Victor wave buoyantly to unresponsive orange-clad monks. Victor remarks how glad he is they brought their packs.
Kisha and Jen take off in their boat, leaving their fanny pack with their passports at the boatyard. They also leave their backpacks in their waiting cab. Initially, Kisha wants to go back to get their things and Jen tells her they didn't have to, not thinking of the fanny pack. The close-up on Kisha's face is heartbreaking. This might be it for them.
When Mike and Mark see that Jaime/Cara have their backpacks, they worry. But they don't decide to retrieve their bags until after they finish their boat ride. The decision is not unanimous. Mark is arguing with Mike about their bags while they jog down the street.
"Do we need our bags to do the task?" one shouts at his brother. They agree to pay 200 in Thai money for a cab to take them to the previous cab, They argue all they way; one says we just can't abandon our bags. The other one says we should do the task, then worry about the bags. M & M pay 400 to the first cab for a total payout of 600. I don't know how much money that is in dollars, but it feels expensive.

Detour: Broken Teeth or Broken Record

In Broken Teeth, teams make their way to an area that locals call "The Street of Happy Smiles." Once there, teams must search through fifty sets of dentures to fit five of the waiting patients. Kind of a disgusting challenge, but easy.
In Broken Record, teams make their way to a parking lot and choose one of the waiting party taxis with an on-board Karaoke system. While riding a five-mile course with a group of party girls, teams sing along to a Thai pop video until they reach their destination. The potential pitfall is the snarling Bangkok traffic.
Margie and Luke tackle the denture task. Singing would not be a good choice for hearing-impaired Luke. Fitting dentures looks a little gross, but at least Margie and Luke have gloves and masks. Margie says her nursing background made it not squeamish for her. The fitted patients all give the camera a beautiful, white smile.
Victor/Tammy, again have the most fun of all the teams, choose Karaoke. Their Chinese heritage makes it an obvious choice, says one. "Mommy would be proud," says Tammy.
Teams wonder if the party girls are transvestites. Seeing them in close-up, I think they are right.
Kisha/Jen make the opposite decision from Mike/Mark. They forge ahead without their things, assuming they can pick them up at the end of the leg. Without any money, Kisha and Jen ask for a free ride to the Pit Stop and they find a willing driver on the first try. Cab drivers seem to be pretty agreeable in Bangkok.
Mike and Mark must bargain for the balance of their cab ride to the Karaoke task. In the party van, they sing mightily and talk about the pretty girls. That the girls might be boys does not occur to them.
"Hopefully, someone stumbled worse then we did," said Mike. They barter their possessions twice with accommodating drivers for partial taxi fare.

Phya Thai Palace

Teams must race through the city to their Pit Stop, the Phya Thai Palace. Margie and Luke run a flawless race and end the leg with an easy first place. They win a trip to Puerto Rico.
Jaime/Cara end the leg as team number two. Kisha/Jen and Victor/Tammy foot race to the mat for third place. The athletic sisters beat them.
But Phil sends Kisha/Jen back for their things, saying he can't check them in without their travel documents. They should have figured as much.
Tammy and Victor encourage them Kisha and Jen to go back quickly. For the second week in a row, Victor and Tammy place higher than their actual finish because of another team's mistakes. Kisha is resigned to her potential fate.
Mike and Mark beat Kisha/Jen back to the mat. But Phil imposes four hour of penalties on the stuntmen. Since when are teams not allowed to barter their personal possessions? Four hours of penalties seems harsh.
Kisha and Jen return, not noticing the stuntmen sitting a few yards away. Jen cries on the mat when she is told they are fourth.
Phil waves the stuntmen in, only an hour into their penalty. He informs them that it is an non-elimination round. Phil looks pissed as Mark explains why they did what they did.
Doesn't seem fair that they have to add three hours of their remaining penalty to their departure time. It may be impossible for them to escape elimination next week.

Hunter Thompson, Captain Beefheart, Albert Einstein, Steve Jobs and Liz Smith: Inspirational Tales

2009-04-05T12:27:00.004-04:00

The corporate world regularly rejects people who later achieve fame, wealth and greatness. Corporate America may nurture talent, but only talent that plays by their rules. Gifted, non-conformists must succeed on their grit, wit and talent.
You may have been laid off by your employer or may just resent the ties that bind. Either way, build your confidence by reading the stories of the misfits who made it big.
Immerse yourself in the biographies of some of these rebels and misfits who were either rejected or were cast off by traditional employers. Their stories will help you through these hard times.

Hunter S. Thompson

Hunter Thompson left this world on his own terms. He lived his life the same way. Still inspiring new generations, Thompson fuels their little flames of rebellion, sparks that usually extinguish themselves as real-life responsibilities set in.
Thompson channeled his rambunctious delinquency, his intellect and his vast capacity for partying into a raucous journalism career.
In 1958, the Air Force heaved a collective sigh of relief at Thompson’s departure. Later, Time Magazine fired him as a copy boy. Thompson lived hand-to-mouth for much of his career but he managed to live well.
He created Gonzo Journalism, where getting the story becomes the story. The writer and his venomous opinions became the central character of his books and articles.
Thompson rode with the Hell’s Angels for a year to get source material for his breakthrough book and for the fun of it. His second book, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, with one of the most memorable opening lines ever written, is a tale of drug-fueled trips to Las Vegas.
Thompson turned the phrase “fear and loathing” into a franchise. His articles turned Rolling Stone magazine into a political force.

Reading List:
Outlaw Journalist (2008 biography by William McKeen)
Hell’s Angels: The Strange and Terrible Saga of the Outlaw Motorcycle Gangs (1966, nonfiction)
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1972, novel)
Fear and Loathing: On the Campaign Trail '72 (1974, nonfiction)

Don van Vliet, aka Captain Beefheart

Captain Beefheart started his singing career in a conventional way as a white blues singer who could channel Howlin' Wolf, a valuable trait in the 1960's blues-based rock world.
After a minor hit single, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band were dropped by A&M Records. They released their 1967 debut album, Safe As Milk, on Buddah Records. Finally, the band seemed on their way.
But a week before the Monterey Pop Festival, their guitarist quit and the band had to drop out of the influential festival. Commercially, this was disastrous to the group.
Don and the Magic Band retreated to the Mojave desert in search of "tension and discipline," recording their second album, Strictly Personal. But Don felt that the producer’s attempt to make the album sound more psychedelic by adding “groovy” sound effects ruined the album.
Making even more of a commercial retreat, Don moved the band to a house where, under his strict musical tutelage, he whipped the band into creating Trout Mask Replica, the first album in which Don was given free reign by producer Frank Zappa. The album is a milestone in pop music history.
In 1982, Don turned his back on the music industry to become a successful painter and sculptor.

Recommended Listening:
Trout Mask Replica (1969 album)
Doc at the Radar Station (1980 album)
Clear Spot (1973 album)

Albert Einstein

After his death, the world’s greatest genius, Albert Einstein, had his brain frozen and stored in a jar for study by future scientists. But did his peers, schoolmasters and employers recognize the genius of young Einstein? Not back then.
Little Albert didn’t speak until he was three years old. As a youngster, he hated school and learned more studying on his own. Einstein failed the entrance exam for the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology. He graduated from the Institute of Technology in Zurich with an undistinguished record.
After graduation, Albert Einstein failed to find a teaching job, though many of his friends had. He got by on temporary teaching and tutoring gigs while finishing his dissertation. Einstein had moments when he questioned his choice of becoming a physicist and he felt like a burden to his family.
He finally got a job in the Swiss Patent Office with a friend’s influence. In the patent office, Einstein finished his work so quickly he had time to work on his personal scientific projects.
Einstein’s superior intellect did not get him a job, did not make him fit in socially and did not make it easy for him to succeed. But Time Magazine named Albert Einstein "Person of the Century".

Reading List:
Einstein: His Life and Universe (2007 biography by Walter Isaacson)
Albert Einstein, A Life of Genius (2003 biography by Elizabeth MacLeod)
The World as I See It (2006, nonfiction)
Relativity: The Special and General Theory (1921, nonfiction)

Steve Jobs

“Do you want to spend your life selling sugared water to children, or do you want to change the world?”
–Steve Jobs to John Scully of Coca-Cola

Steve Jobs, temperamental co-founder of Apple Computer, dropped out of college after one semester in favor of a Buddhist life. He decided to travel to India for spiritual study.
To fund the trip, he started a project that evolved into Apple Computer. Jobs’ company revolutionized personal computers, turning them into an appliance with warm fuzzy mass appeal.
Today, Apple Computer’s stock price rises and falls on rumors of Steve Jobs’ health. But in 1985, Apple’s Board of Directors, his own Frankenstein, ousted Jobs from the company. That’s a fine thank you for visionary leadership.
Lesson: a kick in the pants from those you serve can happen at any time in your career.
After being dumped, Jobs didn’t sit around and contemplate his navel while living on accumulated wealth. He launched Pixar Animation and NeXT, a computer platform development company.
Jobs returned to Apple in 1997 after Apple acquired NeXT. Soon, Jobs was leading his old company again. In the new Jobs era, Apple pulled out of its doldrums and created the iMac, the iPod and the iPhone.
You can change the world more than once, Jobs proved.

Reading/Watching List:
Insanely Great (1994, nonfiction by Steven Levy)
Macintosh Introduction (1984 Super Bowl commercial)

Liz Smith

It’s easy to imagine someone fired from a $125,000 a year job making comments like “It makes you feel like you lost your identity to some extent.” You might hear a rebel say, “I never sucked up."
Surprisingly, these comments came from Liz Smith, New York’s 86-year-old gossip columnist. The Diva of Dish was let go by the New York Post recently. Smith feels like many of us commoners and she is speaking publicly about her firing. I’m sure The Post loves that.
Smith hit town in 1949 from Texas with 50 bucks in her pocketbook. For the last 33 years, her gossip column appeared in New York newspapers.
Smith could retire, but she loves what she does too much—even now.
She is not letting her layoff set her back. Smith had already sown the seeds of her rebirth, as one of the founders of www.wowowow.com, a consortium of women on the web. She writes five times a week for the site and continues to be published in syndication.
I predict Liz, through her moxie and uncommon durability, will remain a voice of the New York scene long after newspaper printing presses shut down.
Reading List:
Natural Blonde (2001 memoir)

The Amazing Race 14: Phuket,Thailand

2009-03-29T19:59:00.010-04:00

With six teams left, the race heats up. Tonight's first clue instructs the teams to fly to Phuket, Thailand.
On the way to the airport, Mike says, "Do you speak any Thai, Dad?" Mel replies, "Yeah, Mai Tai."
Margie expresses how exhausted she is from constant signing to Luke. "Sometimes, I just want a break; just want to rest my arms . . . but I wouldn't change it for anything."
Jaime's nastiness and disdain goes from occasional to constant as the race wears on. She admits she doesn't like to hear foreign languages; the sound gets on her nerves. She talks down to and yells at non-English speakers, which is everyone they encounter.
Kisha gives money to the Indian children with their arms outstretched into their taxi window. From a race perspective, sister Jen is right; she shouldn't do that. But the poverty of the children compels Kisha to give.
All teams end up on the same flight, so it's anyone's game today.

Phuket Zoo Gorilla

With only a photo of a gorilla statue, teams are at the mercy of their cab drivers to know the statue is at the Phuket Zoo. Mel and Mike are the only team to have trouble landing a cab. Getting in a cab last doesn't turn out to be the problem, it's their driver, who decides the gorilla is at the beach.
Several teams get out of their cabs on the street and wave the gorilla photo around, hoping someone will recognize it.
"Just say big-ass gorilla," said Jen.
Once they have their answer, the cabs travel in a herd toward the zoo. Mel and Mike watch the other cabs turn off together in the opposite direction. They hope their cab driver is the only one with the right answer. This hope turns out to be fatal--rarely is the pack wrong.
At the beach, Mel and Mike dismiss the one local who suggests the gorilla might be at the zoo. Mel says, "let's stop for a Thai massage," once they realize they have probably lost. When a second local swears the gorilla is at the Phuket Zoo, Mel and Mike head there, still doubtful.

Esso the Tiger

Teams each have their picture taken with Esso the Tiger, the danger made apparent by the one-armed tiger handler. Speedy Mark and Mickey reach Esso first. Kisha and Jen say, "If the tiger didn't eat Mark and Mike, they won't eat us. Well, they are bite-size."
After the photo op, teams take part in a typical Thai elephant performance. Racers lie on the ground and an elephant steps gently on their butts. Then elephant squats over the player on the end. The elephant likes Kisha's butt best and presses it twice.
Teams return to the tiger area and find their next clue pasted on their souvenir photo. Jaime says she could live with the animals and without people. I think people could live without her too.

The Oldest Herb Shop in Phuket

Jaime and Cara start calling the stuntmen "The Tweedles", a cringe-worthy nickname.
The nickname cracks the girls up and Jaime and Cara compare the stuntmen to cartoon characters. How can they talk like that on camera and not be ashamed?
Racers must make their way to the Old Phuket Town and find Nguan Choon Tong Herb Shop, the oldest herb shop in Phuket. Teams must ask the shopkeeper to open one of 99 herb drawers in search of a clue. If they choose the wrong drawer, they must keep on guessing.
Jaime and Cara suffer some poetic justice in the Herb Shop. Who's the Tweedle now?
Jaime starts screaming at the shopkeeper. I hope for Mel and Mike's sake the guessing game slows the teams down.
After taking Jaime's abuse, the shopkeeper love latecomers, Mel and Mike, who don't express any frustration or impatience. The team has fun with the guessing game, as they have with most of the tasks they've tackled.

Detour: Hundred Barrels or Two Miles

Both options for the Detour are physical tonight. In Hundred Barrels, teams prepare a fishing boat for ten days at sea. They must fill 47 fish barrels with enough drinking water to last the trip. They must also move 53 of the empty barrels from the bottom deck to the roof.
In Two Miles, one team member must pull the other in a red-and-pink rickshaw to a park two miles away. I am surprised that teams are allowed to switch off drivers.
Kisha/Jen and Jaime/Cara both pick the 100 barrels, stupidly I think. But later, I think the tasks are equally difficult.
Stuntmen Mark and Mickey pick the rickshaw challenge. Mark (or Mickey) mimics stereotypical Chinese nonsense chatter as he pulls the rickshaw. What's with mocking Asians? Both Miley Cyrus and one of the Jonas Brothers got bad press spoofing Asians recently.
Mark does another atypical move, spitefully hiding the rickshaw tire pumps. They are the only team to make sure their tires are filled before they ride off. But I can't tell if low tire pressure hinders the other teams doing the challenge, Margie/Luke and Tammy/Victor.

Pit Stop: Wat Thep Nimit Temple

I am so happy that Mike and Mickey hit the mat first and am surprised they incur two 30 minute penalties--one for tampering with with the pumps and a second for hiring the taxi to lead them to the park.
I thought teams often enlisted locals to help them and paid them for their help. Teams did that in previous seasons, I'm sure. New rule?
Tammy/Victor abandon their rickshaw too soon and have to turn around and retrieve it. But they become the technical winners of the leg as Mark and Mickey wait out their penalty. Jaime and Cara pass the penalized team to finish second.
Fourth-place finisher, Margie faints at the mat from the heat, right after Phil calls her The Bionic Woman. Phil and the staff scramble to get her water and cool her down. She refuses an ambulance and I think about Natasha Richardson refusing medical help. If someone thinks you need an ambulance, take it.
Mel and Mike do some catch-up at the herb shop and at the fishing boat. Again, Mel assess the task and figures out a faster way to get it done. Kisha and Jen still finish the Hundred Barrels ahead of them.
When Kisha/Jen get dropped off at the wrong location, I think Mel and Mike have a chance to finish before the sisters. Poor Kisha and Jen. They know how close Mike and Mel are behind them. But they fix their mistake quickly and finish fifth. Mike and Mel are eliminated. I am sorry to see them go.