There are 100 million tons of trash in the North Pacific Gyre.
In some parts of the Pacific, plastic outweighs plankton six to one.
The good news:
Nearly sixty cities in California have banned throwaway plastic grocery bags.
Los Angeles became the largest city in the nation to approve the ban (which will take effect at the end of the year)
To see what happens to your junk, please watch this four-minute movie taken earlier this year by Chris Jordan on Midway Island, an uninhabited, isolated spot about two thousand kilometers from any other land.
Next year I hope to tell you that all of California has banned plastic bags.
A statewide ban could keep 123,000 tons of plastic bags out of the waste stream each year.
I wept when I looked at the close-up photo of a number tattooed on a woman’s arm at the US Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington D.C.
When I stepped back to blow my nose and allow a group of teenagers to see the photo, one of the girls lazily chewing on a big wad of gum nudged her friend, “Hey don’t you think that’s a cool tattoo?”
“Ohmygod I love it!” said the friend.
So many things I wanted to say, and wished I’d said, but I was speechless.
Arm of a survivor from Nazi Germany I photographed in L.A.
I know tattoos weren’t invented in Nazi Germany – concentration camp inmates were simply branded like cattle – but I don’t understand, and I can’t explain why tattooing has become such a popular worldwide form of expression that people willingly spend thousands of dollars, suffering many hours of torture to cover their skin with some very carefully selected illustrations they can never remove.
The word tattoo [from the Tahitian word ‘tatau’ meaning ‘to mark something’] was brought back from Tahiti in 1769 by Captain James Cook!
Tattooing,for spiritual and decorative purposes, dates back thousands of years across Europe, China, Japan, India, Egypt, Indonesia, Samoa and New Zealand.
The Ancient Greeks, Romans, and Japanese tattooed criminals as a visible mark of punishment.
In 54 BC when Julius Caesar invaded Britain he described seeing long-lasting decorations pricked on the skin of the inhabitants.
During the Middle Ages, Christian Crusaders identified themselves with the mark of the Jerusalem cross on their foreheads so that they could be given a proper Christian burial if they died in battle.
a flower
Some people (as I show in these two photos I took at the Hollywood Bowl) choose one or two small tattoos such as butterflies, flowers, or designs…
…a tattoo crept out of Jolly’s shirt
But many people prefer to cover large portions of their skin.
If you cover the upper arm it’s called the ‘half-sleeve‘
the ‘full-sleeve‘ includes the upper and lower arms.
When I met Max in San Diego, he was happy to explain his tattoos to me.
The tattoo on his forearm is of a flapper from the Great Gatsby
in the middle is a Homage to James Elroy, with the Crest of Montenegro above it
on the right, “To mine own self be True”
the watch: “All dogs go to Heaven“. The time is at 11:11 “The Wishing Hour“.
a flapper from the Great Gatsby
a Homage to James Elroy, with the Crest of Montenegro above it.
To Mine Own Self be True
“All dogs go to Heaven“. The time is at 11:11 “The Wishing Hour“
I met Adrian at my cash register. She told me there’s a lot of synchronicity with birth dates in her family: both her father and her father-in-law were born on 02.03 and her grandson was born on 02.03.04 and the numbers are in the tattoos.
The first tattoo is of her grandson, the fisherman is her husband, and she spent a long time making sure I understood the tattoo on the right:
Purple is the color of cancer.
Radiation is purple.
Many people in her life have died from cancer: her mother, her father, mother-in-law, father-in-law, aunt, uncle and a good friend. All their initials are on her arm.
Even though she’s taken them all the girl is pretty, because there’s always hope …
Her grandson
her husband
Angelina (below) told me:
“Most people can only take three hours of tattooing pain at a time. Each one of my tattoos took about six to nine hours.”
“When you’re tattooed it feels like a razor blade digging in you,”
“Each tattoo gun has six to nine tiny needles working at a time.”
OMG that sounds far worse than childbirth!
She has a cherry blossom on her back, a peacock on her arm, and the Japanese Great wave inside her arm.
Angelina’s cherry blossom
Peacock on her arm
This is Emory from Vancouver, Canada whom I met at the Museum yesterday. She told me that the Borneo Rose (on her right leg) guards the wearer from evil spirits, and is usually tattooed on a young man’s shoulders.
Rosie the Riveter on the left leg, and the Borneo Rose on the right leg
The above is just a small sampling of the hundreds of tattooed arms and legs that walk past my cash register.
For more information you can check out Camila Rocha’s site. She’s a tattoo artist from Brazil who came to my cash register two weeks ago.
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Have you seen the bookThe Japanese Tattooby Sandi Fellman? It was difficult for the American photographer to meet the Irezumi
”an extreme and secretive group of people living in the underworld of Tokyo and Osaka who have transformed themselvesinto living works of art through tattooing…”
and she had to spend a long time gaining their trust before being permitted to photograph them.
front cover of “The Japanese Tattoo”
“These are people who have chosen to suffer years of torture and perhaps even shorten their lives* to make their bodies look unnatural.“
* tattooing shorten lives when too little free skin is left to breath or perspire.
* * * * *
I’d love to hear what you think of tattoos. Can you explain why they’re so fashionable?
To say I’m horrified and “rocked off my moorings” by the violence at the Boston Marathon this afternoon is an understatement. I’m stuck on Why? When I think of the victims I weep … no more words…
along the Camino in Northern Spain
When I walked along the Camino I was pleasantly surprised to learn that many men and women who walked the entire 750 km French Way to Santiago de Compostela were older than me, and many were walking in spite of a severe illness like cancer.
In my first post about the Camino I told you about Kurt, a teacher from Germany.
Kurt began his pilgrimage alone, but ended up walking with Wolfgang and Christiane who are both also from Germany. That’s how friendships are formed on the Camino: you meet someone on the road, and you’re instantly friends, life-long friends.
Kurt (on the right) walked with Wolfgang (on the left) and Christiane
I’m not used to carrying a heavy weight and after several days of walking with my backpack I developed painful “rocks” on my back. Kurt was the good Samaritan who gave me massages along the way.
“A massage for Rosie,” he’d say…
I haven’t told you about his friend Wolfgang who’s one of the shining lights I met on the Camino: always happy and so kind.
Kurt and I are both expert yakkers, but though Wolfgang could also speak English, he didn’t talk much, preferring to listen, than to yak.
I walked with Kurt and Wolfgang several times, but I couldn’t keep up with their fast pace, and they reached Santiago several days ahead of our group.
In the photo of Wolfgang (below) taken at the end of the pilgrimage in the tee-shirt Kurt and Christiane bought him, he looks suntanned, fit and healthy.
Wolfgang in his Camino tee-shirt: “You’ll never walk alone” (photo credit Kurt)
Actually Wolfgang was a very sick man.
He set out alone on his pilgrimage after his doctor gave him six months to live.
The friendship and love from Kurt and Christiane, plus the fresh air and sun, and something about the magic of the Camino gave him a vitality and vigor so he was able to walk the entire 750 km route, and as you can see, he looked wonderful at the end.
I heard from Kurt in February: Wolfgang was really ill, and he and Christiane went to visit their sick friend.
“It was a really good decision to see him. He’s very brave. Though in a lot of pain he was very happy to see us and looked at us with grateful eyes…”
Wolfgang invited them back in the Spring for a barbecue, but Kurt’s not sure if there’s enough time in this life for him.
Keep him in your thoughts and prayers.
the three friends
As this is National Poetry Month, I end with a poem
Be a friend – by Edgar Guest
Be a friend. You don’t need money:
Just a disposition sunny;
Just the wish to help another
Get along some way or other;
Just a kindly hand extended
Out to one who’s unbefriended;
Just the will to give or lend,
This will make you someone’s friend.
Be a friend. You don’t need glory.
Friendship is a simple story.
Pass by trifling errors blindly,
Gaze on honest effort kindly,
Cheer the youth who’s bravely trying,
Pity him who’s sadly sighing;
Just a little labor spend
On the duties of a friend.
Be a friend. The pay is bigger
(Though not written by a figure)
Than is earned by people clever
In what’s merely self-endeavor.
You’Il have friends instead of neighbors
For the profits of your labors;
You’Il be richer in the end
Than a prince, if you’re a friend.
Edgar Albert Guestan English-born American poet (Born 1881, Birmingham, died 1959, Detroit) wrote more than 15,000 sentimental and optimistic verses – one a day from 1916 to 1959 – earning him the title the People’s Poet.
He began writing verse for the Free Press in 1904 under the heading “Chaff.” His columns evolved into a daily feature,”Breakfast Table Chat,” syndicated in about three hundred newspapers.
I’ve changed every time I’ve faced personal challenges such as marriage, motherhood, living in a new country, death of my parents, but the biggest life-changing experience for me was when I walked on The Camino to Santiago de Compostela in Spain.
Through a range of astonishing and liberating visions and revelations, Shirley MacLaine saw into the meaning of the cosmos, including the secrets of the ancient civilizations of Atlantis and Lemuria, insights into human genesis, the essence of gender and sexuality, and the true path to higher love.
I learned to face my fears of the unknown and to believe in myself.
I didn’t feel I’d completed the pilgrimage when I reached the Cathedral in Santiago. Though the church service for pilgrims was a thrilling experience and a proud moment for me, it was too crowded, as was the city of Santiago which is overflowing with pilgrims, tourists, and souvenirs [!].
Inside the Cathedral during the service
I needed a quiet place to reflect on what I’d achieved.
I took a bus ninety miles further west to Finisterre,a rock-bound peninsula on the west coast of Galicia where the Camino ends.
In the Middle Ages those who ended their pilgrimage at Finisterre believed those rocks were at the edge of the world. It must have been a terrifying experience to go there.
Some people celebrate the completion of their pilgrimage at Finisterre with a personal ceremony where they burn their clothes or leave their boots behind.
This man is adding his blue jacket to the fire.
When I hiked out past the lighthouse onto the cliff and looked out over the huge expanse of ocean, I didn’t need to burn my clothes or leave my boots behind to know I’d completed a life-changing journey.
I felt the presence of the countless pilgrims who’d sat on that windy rock before me, and enveloped by an enormous sense of accomplishment, and pride, an inner peace such as I’d never known before filled my heart.
For previous posts on my pilgrimage to Santiago, go to HIKES or TRAVEL POSTS at the top of my blog, and look under SPAIN
I saw this guy at the Museum. He told me it takes him two hours to get his hair looking like this:
Flat iron
Blow dry
Hair spray
Hair glue called “Got2B“
I have no idea how he sleeps…
It takes two hours to get his hair looking like this
2. Observations:
Earlier this year in my post “Unique” my blogging buddy Tara at The Good Villager identified the stick-like plant on my patio as an orchid cactus (Epiphyllum)
This past winter it only produced one flower.
On March 11 2013 my heart sank when I saw these bumps on one of the unhappy looking stick-like stems. I didn’t know whether it was going to be a bunch of friendly flowers or an infestation of a nasty bug…
March 11, 2013 @1:52 pm
Two-and-a-half weeks later…
The plant is so top-heavy the only way to lift the stem off the ground was to put a brick underneath it.
March 29 2013, @1:42pm
Last Saturday…
April 6 2013 @ 5:02 pm
Monday…
April 8 2013 @ 1:35 pm
There are another twelve buds just about to bloom.
3. Observatory.
Mr F and I went to Julian in the CuyamacaMountains (156 miles south-east of Los Angeles at 4,235 feet) for the Easter weekend.
Julian’s high elevation provides clean air, blue skies and four distinct seasons.
Spring is generally mild with a profusion of daffodils
There are several varieties of daffodils in this clump
Julian, which was founded in the 1870’s gold rush, is a well-known apple growing area. There are four bakeries in town all baking and serving apple pie.
After our three-and-a-half mile hike up to Cuyamaca Peak – [elevation 6,512 feet which I’ll describe in another post] – we treated ourselves to a shared warm piece of apple pie with vanilla ice cream.
Full disclosure: it was so delicious that we ordered another piece, and took a pie home. 😀
nestled in the beautiful oak and pine-covered mountains of Julian, is a peaceful, 4.5 acre retreat for those who appreciate nature and wish to rejuvenate their spirits.
Proprietors of the Observers Inn: Michael and Caroline Leigh
It wasn’t just a peaceful place. Mike, who has been fascinated by astronomy since high school, has built an Observatory just below his house, “with a roof that slides open“, and offers tours of the night sky to guests.
The breathtaking starry nights make for the perfect location of our astronomical observatory which houses several research grade telescopes.
Mike Leigh began our tour outside the Observatory using his laser-light to point out the major stars and constellations in the twinkling night sky.
I have never seen such a clear night sky. I now know how to find the Big Dipper, and the North Star.
Once inside the Observatory he explained that there are three types of telescopes: refractor, reflecting and optical.
He has four telescopes. His largest is a 16 inch Meade Schmidt-CassegrainLX200 which [according to an article I read on the dining room wall] is the same model used in National Observatories of small countries.
He thinks his fourteen inch is perfect because “you have to know the night sky and find the star yourself” whereas the twelve-inch and sixteen-inch are computerized: punch in the correct codes and they’ll find the stars.
When we looked through his telescopes we saw an open star cluster, a globular cluster, nebulae in the shape of spirals, and a rainbow.
To see some photos taken at the Observatory click here.
Mike speaks very fast and with much passion. A few interesting bits I picked up during his talk:
The speed of light is 186,282.4 miles per second in a vacuüm.
Light travels seven-and-a-half times round the earth in one second.
Theoretically we don’t know what galaxies look like because things we see in the sixteen inch telescope took three to four billion years to reach our eyepiece.
At the speed that the Space Shuttle flies – 18,500 mph – it would take us humans 160,000 years to get to our closest star (which is Alpha Centauri)
There are 400 billion stars in the Milky Way.
One grain of beach sand = 5,000 galaxies
Around Thanksgiving this year we’ll be able to see the comet of our lifetimes. Called “Ison“, it is predicted to be spectacular and very bright, and so close to earth that we will be able to see it with our naked eyes.
Isonwill be much more powerful than Halley’s Comet the best known of the short-period comets, which is visible from Earth every 75–76 years.
Why do so many people go on vacation over Easter? The Museum had record attendance figures over the past couple of weeks.
As several of my blogging buddies have reminded me its been a while since I last wrote a post on the museum, and as it’s the day for FrizzText’s weekly challenge – which is at “N” – here are some recent “N” stories from the Museum.
“N” for nasty:
Thankfully I don’t meet many nasty people.
Last week an American woman walked up to my cash register picking at the fever blister scab on her lip. Ewww! I didn’t want to touch her money. 😦
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“N” for Names:
A woman paid with a check and gave me her driver’s license as her I.D, but the two names on the check were totally different from the two names on the license.
“Look at the signatures,” she said.
I did. “Sorry, they don’t look at all alike to me,” I said.
She got really angry. I won’t repeat what she said.
* * * * * *
“N is for Neighbors
I see Canadians and Mexicans all the time.
I really enjoyed chatting to Carolina and Christian from Mexico City (in the photo below) who are both studying for their Masters Degrees in the U.S.
They told me they’d be happy to show me around Mexico City. Aren’t I lucky!
Carolina and Christian (from Mexico) studying in Chicago.
Carolina and Christian were such a friendly Nice couple.
“N” is for nice –
I can honestly say that 99% of the people I meet at my cash register are really nice.
Many groups of international students visit the museum. Last month I met a group of eighteen-year-old who were spending the year studying at American high schools.
The two girls (in the photo below) were going to school in Wyoming. They told me they loved their U.S. families and their school, we laughed about the strange food in the U.S. and discussed what its like living in a small town in Wyoming.
Josefine Kroeswagn from Austria on the left, and Merel Snyders from Holland
Esther and Marit (in the photo below) lived in Kentucky. They also love their American families and their school and will be friends for life!
Esther Yo Wu (from Taiwan) on the left, and Marit Gjerjordet Prytz (from Norway)
I had an interesting conversation with a guy who told me he was born in Iran, and he and his Norwegian-born wife both grew up in Dubai. He explained that he spoke with an American accent because he went to the American school in Dubai, and his wife who went to the British school, spoke with an English accent.
Their two children aged eight and ten who also spoke perfect English, have lived in Dubai, Norway, Paris and they moved to Los Angeles at the end of last year.
I asked them with all their travels whether they had a favorite country:
the children both answered “Norway!”
Dad said, “Paris.”
Mom giggled and said “Norway.”
After the family left I realized that I keep meeting the nicest friendliest people from Norway.
So N is for Norway.
I’m always impressed that Norwegians speak such good English.
Though I can’t speak Norwegian, I’m able to mimic the accent. When I served two Norwegian girls yesterday I read out their names and the names of their banks on their credit cards, and they told me that I pronounced it all perfectly. Tusen takk :D
Bjornar Saettem and Heidi Larsen from Norway with their baby daughter Solveig
I really enjoyed meeting Bjornar Saettem and Heidi Larsen and their cute little baby (in the photo above). They are both teachers from Norway.
They told me about their travels around the U.S, their town on the west coast of Norway, the long winters and short days (the sun only rises around 10 am in the winter!), that they also like hiking, the food they eat …
Bjornar showed me some his photos on his phone, and very kindly remembered to email them to me.
The photo below is of a famous road through a Fjord in Norway. I stand corrected, but I think it’s called the Trollstigen road.
Just looking at the narrow road with its hairpin bends on those steep inclines, I’d imagine you need to be a highly skilled driver to even attempt it. I couldn’t do it.
(You can see Bjornar – on the right – waving from the viewing balcony which overlooks the road).
I can’t imagine driving on this road. (photo credit Bjornar Saettem and Heidi Larsen)
They took the photo of the fjord (below) overlooking the village of Geiranger in western Norway (near the famous road)
(Can you see Bjornar waving from the rock near the top on the right?)
Beautiful view of the fjord at Geiranger (Photo credit Bjornar Saettem and Heidi Larsen)
Geiranger is a small tourist village in the western part of Norway. According to Wikipedia
Geiranger is home to some of the most spectacular scenery in the world, and has been named the best travel destination in Scandinavia by Lonely Planet.
A month before I walked in Spain, the Divine Mother, the world-renowned Hindu spiritual leader Sri Karunamayi, blessed me and my pilgrimage on the Camino. This post is about that meeting.
Sri Karunamayi
Sri Karunamayiwho is revered in India as an embodiment of divine motherly love, and affectionately called “Amma” [the Telugu word for “mother”] by her devotees has focused her life on the spiritual uplifting of humanity through meditation, knowledge, service, and selfless love.
She was born in South India in 1958 on the most auspicious holy day in India.
In a prophecy by one of India’s most revered holy men, her mother was told she’d give birth to a divine child who would bring peace.
Though she had never studied Sanskrit, she would often surprise her father with spontaneous insights into the inner spiritual meaning of the verses.
When she was twenty-one she spent ten years in meditation seclusion in the remote and sacred Penusila Forest.
“Local villagers who spotted her sometimes mistook her for a statue, as they could not even detect the movement of breath in her perfectly still form.”
One of her favorite sayings is “If you take one step toward me, I will take a thousand steps toward you.”
I met the Divine Mother at a Spiritual Center in Pasadena in March 2012. We had to take off our shoes. Photography was not permitted.
The chapel was full, there were men, women and children in the audience most of them dressed in white, but as I didn’t know about the “wear white dress code” I wore a red tee-shirt and jeans. [It was acceptable as I was wearing “clean modest attire that covered the knees and shoulders.”]
Amma, began the ceremony by pouring a milk, ghee and honey mixture over a divine figurine (a murti), while chanting Sanskrit mantras.
As the offerings are gently poured over the murti, divine blessings radiate out towards all those present, providing protection, purification, and spiritual elevation.
The pouring of libations on a deity is called an abhisheka.
Amma spoke for about thirty-five minutes, and then she gave everyone in the audience their individual blessing. I had to wait almost two hours for my turn.
When I learned that she’d also bless a specific object, I took off the simple $8 green Chrysoprase stone I always wear and put it on the tray for her to bless it. I noticed that the people ahead of me placed holy statues, rosary beads and photos on their trays.
My chysoprase stone on the wooden table.
When its your turn to be blessed you silently kneel in front of Amma who is sitting up on a platform.
During our one-on-one time in her presence, we weren’t permitted to speak unless she asked us a question, and if she handed us anything we had to take it in our right hand.
It had been a long morning and I was tired when I received her blessing. I closed my eyes when she put her hand out to bless me, and felt the vibrations of her energy on my forehead. It was beautiful.
blessing (photo from Amma’s site)
I made sure I took my necklace, and the card where I’d written my blessing request in my right hand.
She also gave me some gifts: a little plastic bag containing sacred ash which I was to place on my tongue every morning, and a picture of herself with the words to three mantras on the back (that we were to chant twenty-seven times a day “for our healing”)
[Full disclosure – I haven’t recited the chants or placed the ash on my tongue though I carried them with me when I walked on the Camino.]
When I looked up to thank her, I wasn’t surprised to see a layer of exhaustion in her eyes, so as well as sending my silent smile of thanks for her blessing and gifts, I used gestures to wordlessly let her know that I could see she was tired. She acknowledged my gesture with a nod of thanks, and our eyes locked in a woman-to-woman moment I’ll never forget.
When we left the chapel we were each given a little sip of the milk mixture – which was delicious – and two little silver foil packages of sacred ashes.
we had to leave our shoes outside
Through her international speeches and programs, Amma also raises money for her charities:
The Sri Karunamayi Free Hospitalprovides free medical care to all who need it.
She’s building houses for hundreds of people displaced from their ancestral lands when an artificial lake flooded their homes.
She runs two primary schools in India which provide free schooling, books and uniforms to over 600 students.
Because the people in South India are drinking water contaminated with excessive amounts of fluoride, the general population are suffering from dental and skeletal flourosis, kidney disorders, bone ailments, organ failure. Amma has built twelve water treatment facilities, four reverse Osmosis water treatment plants and eight more were due to open last year.
This video is a good introduction on Amma’s life and charities
For more information on Amma or to donate to one of her charities, please click here
Amma’s charitable projects offer life-saving help in a region where no other charities operate and where governmental assistance is nearly non-existent. These are truly forgotten people, but thanks to Amma, the villagers now have reason to hope.
She has already begun her 2013 tour of North America. Click here for the schedule.
“Ask not what you can do for your country, ask what’s for lunch.” Orson Welles, actor, director (1915-1985)
OK, what’s for lunch?
Hmmm….
If you like deli sandwiches, I recommend you try Langers Deliin downtown Los Angeles. Mr F and JB had the #19, and I had the matzoh ball soup when we went there last December.
Mr F’s pastrami sandwich
Matzo ball soup
Mr F and JB ordered the #19
If you’re a vegetarian, or even if you’re not, you have to try a toasted cheese and tomato sandwich when you’re in South Africa. Its their national sandwich.
We had this gourmet version at an outdoor restaurant in Johannesburg: served on home-made whole-wheat bread with arugula! Yum yum.
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If you prefer salads for lunch, you can get a delicious – and tender – steak salad like this in South Africa.
It was as tasty as it looks.
Why do American restaurants only serve chicken salads? I don’t think I’m the only person allergic to chicken!
a hard-boiled egg I ate on the Camino
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I can’t do a post on lunch without including some favorite picnics.
I think food tastes best when eaten outdoors. Even a simple hard-boiled egg with a slice of bread…
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picnic lunch during one of our Backbone Trail hikes
I think Mr F would agree with me that our picnic lunch when we were hiking in the Cinque Terre in Italy is our all-time favorite.
“salami, local cheese, bread, an apple and a bunch of grapes”
Five items, no plates, paper bag acting as a table-cloth, and water to drink.
FYI the view from the picnic table:
prickly pears
You know that jet-lagged feeling when you’re so hungry and tired you’d eat your hand if you were able to lift it?
Three years ago on our first day in Milan we bought a picnic lunch at the outrageously expensive deli “Peck”.
Walking into that shop is a OMG experience. If you’re on a budget do not even think of going there. If you want to see the amazing Italian institution (founded in 1883) go there when you’re not hungry 😛
It has an enormous selection of salads, cooked meats, and seafood, grilled vegetables, cheese, (over 3,000 varieties of Parmigiano Reggiano), olive oils and balsamic vinegar, plus homemade chocolates, bread, pastries and gelato.
We were so tired and hungry, and the choice was so overwhelming, it was almost impossible to know what to choose.
Octopus salad
We bought black and green olives, a couple of bread rolls, a small piece of local goat cheese, a few slices of salami, a small container of mushroom salad, and this very tasty octopus salad.
Every item was gift wrapped in silver paper, and tied it with a ribbon.
.
It came to forty-five euros.
I nearly fainted.
I asked the guy who’d served us to take a few things out of each container. He didn’t say a word, but you could see he was irritated. The lower price was thirty-three euros, which is still an outrageously expensive picnic for people-trying-to-travel-cheaply and on-the-first-day-of-their-trip, but oh my god it was delicious.
Peckdoesn’t have an outside seating area. When we walked out of Peck with our picnic, we couldn’t find a place to sit down.
I was so tired and hungry I started eating our expensive picnic on the sidewalk. Mr F was quick to whip out his camera.
yours truly eating over the planter outside Peck.
picnic on the steps
We ate our gourmet meal sitting on the steps of what was once the center of Medieval Europe – i.e. Milan’s old 12th century City Hall – which was now the favored place for the city’s pigeons to leave their poop.
You do things on vacation …
Photography in Peck is strictly prohibited. This video gives a nice tour.
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I served an Italian couple at my cash register this afternoon who were from Milan. I told them how much I love their city and asked them if they shop at Peck. The guy said, “I went once with my granny. She paid.”
* * * * * *
Two note-worthy sea-food lunches: pulpo and lagoustine in Melide, in northern Spain; and a fish soup at the Beach House Cafe at Hengistbury Head in the south of England.
lagoustine
Pulpo
Fish soup at the Beach House cafe
Where’s Hengistbury Head? It’s a scenic headland jutting into the English Channel near Bournemouth, on the south coast of England.
Hengistbury Head
I’d sit squashed and sleepless in the back of the plane any day if it meant I could eat any of these meals again.
Post Script: At the Museum today I asked a little boy his name: “London,” he said; five minutes later a little girl walked into the Children’s Shop wearing a tee-shirt with LONDON written in big sparkly letters across the front; in the next two hours three different couples told me they were from London; and at the end of the day I overheard a group of tourists chatting about an art exhibition they’d recently seen in London.
I’ve never heard London mentioned so many times. I don’t think it has anything to do with this week’s “L” challenges. I hope it means I’ll be going to London soon. Yaay! 😛
Yesterday was the Museum’s Community Service Day. Five of us served lunch to the residents at Turning Point Transitional Housingin Santa Monica.
Turning Point
Established in 1983, and part of the OPCC (Ocean Park Community Center),
Turning Point Transitional Housing is a 55-bed shelter for homeless men and women that offers housing and supportive services for up to nine months. The project seeks to break the cycle of homelessness and to integrate homeless individuals back into the community by providing comprehensive, individualized services designed to address their physical and emotional needs.
In addition to an individual sleeping area, three meals a day and clothing, Turning Point provides intensive case management, counseling and support groups, specialized programs such as job counseling, money management, health education, computer classes and independent living skills.
Viveca who works in the front office gave us a tour of the building.
Residents have to get up at 5:30 am on weekdays, and eat breakfast at 6:45 am. They can stay in the shelter all day but are only allowed in their rooms from 7 pm – 6 am.
They have workshops every morning. On Mondays its on health, another day on money management (all residents have to save 60% of their income while staying in the shelter).
female section
female section
female “bedroom”
Male section
We served lasagna – both meat and vegetarian – with salad and garlic bread for lunch.
lasagna, salad and garlic bread
Have you ever wondered what happens to the money you throw into public ponds and fountains? Our Museum donates all the money thrown into the pools in our gardens to OPCC.
Michael Pegues, The Events and Outreach Co-coordinator popped in to welcome us
Michael Pegues said “We encourage all community members to come in and meet us.”
For more information on the many projects under the OPCC umbrella click here
Wondering Rose 