Dreams, Moments, Travels
Only after temperatures come down from the brutality of this desert’s 100-plus degree days do the Hot Air Balloons return to the skies. This was one of a few balloons seen in the morning sky, the first I have spotted since the waning days of spring. For the next six months, we will see many more balloons traverse our blue skies, as the wind permits, of course.
Restaurant Takamatsu, by way of Phoenix New Times Best of Winner for Korean Food 2005, was the choice for dinner tonight. I had the Pork Bulgogi, and for only $12.95, it was a great deal. Pictured here, you can see that the spicy pork on a sizzling dish of onions comes with eight side dishes including kimchee, tofu, bean sprouts, potato salad (that’s a new one for me in a Korean BBQ), a spinach-like green prepared in sesame oil, and a few others sides, miso soup (this is a Japanese / Korean restaurant), sticky rice, even a dessert – an ice-cold cup of Shikye (sweet rice water). Restaurant Takamatsu is at 4214 W Dunlap Avenue in Phoenix, AZ. Hodori in Mesa, though is still my favorite for Korean BBQ.
Attention: This post was modified from its original single photograph and a minimal amount of text and updated in November 2022 to represent better what we did over the course of this foggy day.
Another gray day, but who cares? We are out doing stuff in other places, gathering other impressions that can only add to the body of experiences. As I shared in yesterday’s post, this is where we stayed in Artesia, a.k.a. Little India, the Ramona Inn Suites; not the greatest place, but certainly not the most expensive. There’s the added benefit of finding Indian restaurants that serve breakfast.
I guess we’re kind of like land surfers; bad weather’s not gonna stop us from getting out there.
The surfers must have crowded this guy out of the ocean because at the edge of the surf, he came crawling out of his natural environs. Getting him back into the ocean wasn’t easy; in the shallow water the waves just washed him back up on the beach, so we had to ‘as gently as possible’ toss him out there. It worked; he was gone.
Update: Attentive reader Brandon brought to our attention that this little sea creature is, in fact, a “Red Slider” – a freshwater turtle. Now that we have done the equivalent of tossing it into outer space, we can only imagine that something in the deep welcomed this tasty exotic morsel as an imported snack.
I don’t know what brought Caroline and me to Owens-Illinois in Vernon, California, but here we are at the bottle-making factory I worked at for a couple of years, back in 1981 to 1983. It was a hellish place, and in retrospect, most of the people who worked in such conditions were reflecting the dungeon they toiled in. In case I’ve missed sharing it before, my father got me the job here, and it is where he worked the majority of his adult life.
I have some deep nostalgia for the Cinerama Dome because when I went to Hollywood to see a movie on the Cinescope screen in 70mm, I really felt I was going to the movies.
And more nostalgia! Before I could drive, my father and I would come out here to Sunset Boulevard and Horn Avenue for him to look for records. At that time, I hadn’t yet bought my first record, which would happen around 1972 or ’73 when I was still 9 or 10 years old; it was a 7″ 45rpm single of the Rolling Stones’ Jumpin’ Jack Flash, although Child of the Moon turned out to my favorite on that record. On Caroline’s first stop in the United States, I took her to the enormous Tower Records in West Covina, where I grew up, and subsequently, when we came over from Frankfurt, Germany, with four friends in tow to get married, our first stop after double-chili cheeseburgers from Tommy’s was right here at this Tower Records. Sadly, a year after our visit in 2005, they filed bankruptcy, and Tower Records would be no more.
The same can’t be said for Scientology. That’s it; we needed to point the car east and speed off into the desert; our weekend was over.
Attention: This post was modified from its original two photographs and a minimal amount of text and updated in November 2022 to better represent what we did over the course of the day.
Something left out of the original post was the motivating idea behind this day in and around Los Angeles. You see, we were avid Giant Robot magazine subscribers back then who loved everything that was being produced out of the founders’ shop on Sawtelle Boulevard in Los Angeles. One particular feature in the magazine with which I was enamored was their “Perfect Day” articles that would have artists from various places describe their perfect day and send the guys photos depicting that day. This has inspired many of our days out traveling in America, and this particular bolt to Southern California is one of those Perfect Day adventures.
We were up and gone early this Saturday morning, getting out of Phoenix by 6:00 a.m.
With only minutes to spare, we just barely made the last tour of the Hollywood Forever Cemetery at 12:00 p.m., led by the Art Deco Society. While I certainly enjoyed the Ramones from 1976 through about 1978, the Sex Pistols and Black Flag were channeling the kind of anger that was coursing through my veins growing up here in Los Angeles. By the time I was 16 my thinking at the time was less than flattering concerning the Ramones. To this day, in 2022, I still do not feel nostalgic for their sound. I’m opening our visit to the cemetery with this because the gravestone for Carl “Alfalfa” Switzer was sad and weedy.
Can’t say I ever understood the appeal of Valentino, but then again, I wasn’t around in the early 20th century to witness it. Maybe this thing about dying young (he was 31 years old) when audiences think you’ve barely made a mark cements people into extended fame as their death denies the world knowing the extent of their talents?
Most of the names here will be unknown to a majority of people who visit, except for Quentin Tarantino.
Funny, at one moment, I’m saying I have no connection to Valentino and the early 20th century, and yet here I am sharing the simple gravestone of Charlie Chaplin’s mother, Hannah Chaplin. Regarding the Little Tramp, I think I could identify with Chaplin as there always seemed something mischievous and rebellious about not only his famous character but also the man.
The grave of Cecil B. DeMille and his wife. This guy was one of the greats of Hollywood and one of the founders of Paramount Pictures. You didn’t grow up in Southern California and not know of his stature.
As I said, the Art Deco Society put on our tour; great job to the actors who brought us into Hollywood’s past.
It just so happened that a place – not often open to the public – had, for a forgotten reason, unlocked its doors and allowed those of us on this special tour a peek into the Clark Mausoleum.
And that voice from my childhood seems like a good place to leave the Hollywood Forever Cemetery; rest in peace, Mr. Mel Blanc. For those who may not know it, he was the voice of Bugs Bunny, Elmer Fudd, Porky Pig, Barney Rubble, Tweety Bird, Daffy Duck, and Mr. Spacely from the Jetsons movie, which was also his final performance before life told him, “That’s all folks.”
Our friend Mark Shimer then joined us for a bite to eat at GR/Eats, a little cafe opened by the guys behind Giant Robot.
Across the street, it was obvious that we’d visit the Giant Robot shop.
In retrospect, I’m happy we didn’t buy these as they didn’t increase in value.
Boarding a tram for a short ride and our last stop with Mark for the day.
We are at the Getty Museum.
I’ve tried telling Caroline for years that a little “slappy-slappy” has always been enjoyed by damsels and people who live on thrones. She reminds me that she’s not a f$&@ing damsel and that I can dismount my throne and high horse, and still, there will be no “slappy-slappy.”
While it’s not the Trevi Fountain in Rome, there’s something quite elegant about this corner of the museum grounds.
The Deposition is the kind of art from the Middle Ages I can get into.
The Getty Museum is here because Mr. John Paul Getty left his estate to his J. Paul Getty Museum Trust with a mandate that they spend his money.
I’m telling you that Jan Brueghel the Elder knew something about psychedelics; I’m certain of it. This piece is titled The Entry of the Animals into Noah’s Ark, but if you really want to be taken by this man’s work, visit his altarpiece in Colmar, France. You’ll know firsthand that he was dabbling in mushrooms or something.
Striking colors, hints of otherness, the guy in the background wildly gesturing, lots of insects, it all smacks of something dramatic about to happen if you ask me. I can’t be sure that’s what Jan van Huysum tried to convey in this Fruit Piece, but that’s what I’m getting.
Until today, I didn’t even know who Franz Xaver Winterhalter was, but now here I am looking at his work titled Leonilla, Princess of Sayn-Wittgenstein-Sayn.
It’s been gray all day here in the Los Angeles basin, but as you saw from the first photo at the California state line, we did have blue skies to begin with, and it doesn’t matter as we love gray and fog because they are two things almost non-existent in Phoenix, Arizona. And with leaving the Getty Center, Mark bids us adieu, but our Perfect Day is far from over.
Oh yeah, to go where few white men and women tread lets Caroline and I know we’ve found the right place. Dinner is at Ramenya – a Japanese Noodle Shop.
A perfect bowl of ramen.
We have a short bit of time left before the final act of the day, so why not head out on the Santa Monica Pier to listen to the surf roll in, listen in on Arthur Nakane’s 1-Man Band, who was even on Jimmy Kimmel this past February, watch some kids on Dance Dance Revolution, and just enjoy the cool California coastal air.
We ended the night watching Naked in Ashes at the Nuart Landmark Theater and stayed at the Ramona Inn in Little India. This was our Perfect Day.
Trying to get to sleep at a reasonable time with an alarm set for 5:00 a.m. so we can get an early start for a drive to Los Angeles, California, on Saturday morning. Typically, we like to leave Friday night, but with Caroline having class, getting out at 9:00 p.m. would be less than ideal and have us arriving in L.A. at 2:30 a.m. – although, unlike Phoenix, there would still be things to do.
Wow. Great Show. I should admit I was expecting something far more rigid and traditional, but what was delivered was, at times, funny, thrilling, and inspiring. The Yamato Drummers performed this evening at the Scottsdale Center for the Performing Arts. This Taiko-style drumming group combines pop energy, great stage chemistry, and a contemporary electric version of traditional Japanese instruments combined with some of the most enthusiastic drummings the audience could have hoped to see and hear. The audience reciprocated with two standing ovations, which delivered us a great encore in which the audience was able to participate, with the encouragement of the troop. Thank You, Yamato Drummers.