A Moveable Feast



I took this photo in April of a man sitting under some blossoming trees beside Notre Dame
as I wandered around  Paris lost in every moment of adventure and discovery...



I just re-read Hemingway's, A Moveable Feast after thirty years. I was motivated to revisit his expatriate experience of the 20's in Paris after visiting the Steins Collect Matisse, Picasso, and the Parisian Avant-Garde exhibit at SFMOMA as well as the Gertrude Stein exhibit at the SF Contemporary Jewish Museum.

As an artist and writer, I would have enjoyed living the expatriate life in Paris during the 20's and 30's. Reading the book was a much different experience this time than three decades ago. But, the last paragraph rings as true for me today as it did in the late 70's:

"There is never any ending to Paris and the memory of each person who has lived in it differs from that of any other. We always returned to it no matter who we were or how it was changed or with what difficulties, or ease, it could be reached. Paris was always worth it and you received return for whatever you brought to it. But this is how Paris was in the early days when we were very poor and very happy."

                                                                                Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

In Memory of Deborah Nourse Dubs

Escape from Dubrovnik

Journal Excerpt - June 17, 1976

This day will remain in my memory forever. The four of us had the whole day to play until we had to catch the boat to Dubrovnik. Wine flowed like a waterfall; eating peanuts on the dock and Jim surprised us with sugared donuts from the bakery - to my amazement they had holes in them! In Greece?!? After awhile, time started moving faster - souvlaki, more wine, and ouzo! Time unimportant but so important! The boat would leave at eight o'clock. Rushing around getting passports stamped; buying more peanuts and wine. And, yet the hilarity was only beginning. Jim and Joran came on the boat to say their goodbyes but little did they know that they were going to Yugoslavia along with us and had left their passports back in the tents on Pelekas Beach. Perhaps, it was the ouzo or Jim's half-assed statement that he would need to be more intelligent than the woman he married that pushed the boat off for Dubrovnik without so much as a second announcement. We barely heard the first! The only horns blowing were in our heads as the docks of Corfu slowly began to crawl into the distance. What an adventure! It must be such spontaneity as this that is the fruit of life. Running frantically through the boat's corridors in a futile attempt to find a room while trying to hide from the authorities. Finally, Jim and I spending the night in one of the lifeboats hanging over the Adriatic as we sailed towards the medieval town of Dubrovnik on the Croatian coast.

Our boat docks in Dubrovnik - June 18, 1976

Mood - a bit on the nervous side contemplating our friends escape from the Yugoslavian police - communist state; all somewhat dramatic in my own mind. We disembarked without Jim and Joran after giving them a location of where we could meet and saying our goodbyes one more time. The authorities checked our passports twice and then we walked over to the exchange office for money and waited. After about an hour we were coming from the Tourist Bureau when I looked across the street to see Jim and Joran walking carefreely and smiling wide - free!

Sometime later I received a letter from Jim explaining that he and Joran had been captured by the communist police and imprisoned. He then went on to describe how he had made a guitar out of the bedsprings in his cell. I was upset to hear that he and Joran had endured such difficulties, especially in a communist country from which they might not escape. After our return to the states I received a letter from Jim. He was back home in Woodland, Washington. I was so relieved that he was safe! Later, he called me in San Francisco and admitted that he'd made everything up. At the time, I was angry and our brief relationship ended. But now, decades later, I realize how foolish and gullible I was back then and but will always have great memories of that adventurous time.

Corfu (Kondokali)

 Journal Excerpt - June 13, 1976

There's been a full moon these last couple of days; and I'm feeling, as usual, a bit restless, tense, irritable, excitable - an intense bit of everything. Looking forward to Dubrovnik and, of course, today. Left Corfu town http://www.holidaycorfu.org/ for the youth hostel here. Our first night was crazy. Lots of young people dancing beneath a full moon. I could see the reeds of grass shadowed before the sky - old moon making silhouettes of my friends. Switzerland rode his bike all the way here. And, to India. The French girl was so nice. Suggested Montpelier for art school, said Aix has a lot of cultural events but now is mostly bourgeoisie and students. I'll just have to see when I get there.

Yesterday rented motorbikes and explored the island. So incredible! Ahhh, yes...Shakespeare, you had it right when you wrote the Tempest. I commend you ever so highly. Here's to Prospero and here's to Ariel! Olive trees, cyprus, and lovely ferns. The water, crystal clear. Rock like a God jutting out into the indigo depths. I felt so like a bird winding down around the mountain paths - at times it was a bit rough. I loved it! The beauty assaulted my senses; my senses gave way and I could breathe, at last, the sweet breath of freedom.

          "...take off these clothes, leave your boat for the winds to play with, and swim for your life
           to the Phaeacian coast, where deliverance awaits you."
                                                                                           Homer: The Odyssey, Book V

Letter from Naxos



Afternoon in a Greek Cafe
Charcoal on Newsprint, 1976


Journal Excerpt - May 1976

Last night there was a shadow on the lower right side of the moon. I had never seen that before. Was it that way in California? It is so beautiful here on this island. I like it much better than Mykonos. Not so "jetsetty". I feel like I'm in the 'real' Greece here. A few tourists - but not so many. I'm hoping to get a chance to go out in a fishing boat and watch how they work with the nets. I love the fishing boats - they're so colorful.

Right now I'm reading Zorba the Greek by Kazantzakis. I've only just started it but its quite good. I've heard of him before but never read anything by him. He's excellent. Also - since we may be going to Crete its a good book to get me interested in that particular island. Did you ever see the movie? If you are reading any books you think I'd like please tell me and I'll do the same. I just went to look for Fruits of the Earth by Andre Gide that I told you about before and realized I traded it in for Zorba...

Anyway, there were some good poems in Gide's book that I wanted to quote. Oh well, I'll make up my own short poem on impulse...

The moon is a lady

     all dressed in white

her lover, the sun,

     who hides from the night

Oh, how shall they meet

     should this go on?

When each has a different

     concept of dawn?

For some reason I can't stop writing. Oh! I know what I was going to tell you. Old men. You'd love watching them - the way they sit around in these funky old cafes and play cards, drink retsina, and gossip. They're great - so much character. I wish I could get more 'people pictures' but I feel sort of strange going right up to someone and sticking a camera in their face.

Life is so cheap here, I don't believe it. Our room is only $1.50 a night and we pay the same for a good meal of fish, salad, and wine. I could see living on an island like this for awhile but I'm too curious about what's around the next corner.

Today we took a paddle boat out into the water. You know, the kind that you steer with your feet? It was so much fun - great exercise!

Headless Man in Brittany

Brittany, France

Bus Ride on Crete

Excerpt from Journal - May 26, 1976

How to Use Greek Worry Beads

As in Italy, there's often two men in charge of the bus - one who drives it and the other who collects the fares and stacks luggage. Greek bus drivers don't honk as much as Italian bus drivers and they don't drive as fast which still means don't look down if you're sitting by a window. But, the real difference can be found at the front of the bus! Usually, there is a small, religious altar in the upper right hand corner in a glass case. From a mirror hangs a variety of dingo balls, toy parrots, faded photographs of the driver's family and worry beads (see video) in every conceivable color. It's an exhilarating ride as the bus careens over death defying mountain roads and, as you're catching your breath, oddly entertaining to watch the driver's memorabilia swing from side to side.

On a less rocky road, the driver will often attempt to find a radio station but usually to no avail. A tape maybe? Even those sound loud and scratchy but lend a special flavor to the trip and take one's mind off the absence of a protective guard rail. While traveling in such remote areas, you get desperate for music of any kind. But, all things considered, I've really enjoyed the bus rides in Greece, especially on Crete. After walking a few kilometers, its a pleasure to sit back and play with your worry beads assured, once again, that your destination will indeed be reached - if you're lucky.

Baseball and An Old Bridge

Watch Out For Flying Objects
Bats, Balls, Etc.

Left to Right; Gina Ascercion, "Gamer Bird", Lauren Alexander at AT&T Park on April 13, 2011
I found the Giants hat I'm wearing and we beat LA!

     During the past two years I've been working in the historic South End District of San Francisco so its been easy to catch some Giant's games. I've enjoyed exploring this vibrant, thriving part of The City with old red brick buildings that remind me of Boston. On Mission Creek, the funky houseboats are refreshing in comparison to the more touristy ones in Sausalito.

     Each weekday as the sun rises over the bay I cross the historic Lefty O'Doul Bridge just past China Basin Park then spanning over McCovey Cove next to AT&T Park. It was built in 1932 and is sometimes referred to as a drawbridge or bascule bridge, a French term for seesaw and balance (see videos below). If you look West and use your imagination it can be reminiscent of the Venice canals. And if the siren blows, you either walk down a block or learn to cultivate some patience.
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