Lá Fhéile Pádraig Sona Duit

Happy St.Pat's. Back to that later...

I'm afraid that I do not have much to report from the Bay Area. I’ve just had finals so I didn’t really do much for weeks except sit hunched at a desk pouring over anatomy, psychology and chemistry books. I did really well (I got straight A’s), but seriously, I cannot continue to work that hard. I must get a life! I still have a lot of pre-requisite courses to complete (physiology, physics and biology) but I actually begin the history and fundamentals of Chinese medicine next quarter so I'm really excited about that. Not quite so excited about the prospect of learning medical Chinese. It will still be a while before I do any points and even longer before I'm let loose on the general public with needles: still knowing my tendency towards 'near-disaster' perhaps that's for the best.

David came up from LA for three days at the end of February and we had a lovely time wandering and NOT thinking about school at all! He thought San Francisco was 'the bridge' and that would pretty much about be it: so he was very pleasantly surprised. It's a very small city, 49 square miles, somewhat akin to the size of a park for us 'Larnderners' used to a whopping 650 square miles of city to explore, but it's very accessible, quite diverse and very pretty. I think he's a bit fed up with LA and the fast-paced sprawl. How does the song go? "LA is a great big freeway?”
David basking in the warm February sunshine on Chrissy Fields.
Someone kindly left a comfortable chair, pouffe and drinks table.

It was very strange waking up yesterday realizing that I had nothing to do. Well, nothing pressing at least. I still have to sort out a bank account which is pretty shameful considering I wrote that over 3 months ago. So care-free and without a thought of bones, muscles or cell mitosis in my head (which is unfortunately exactly where those thoughts have been for most of the term), I wandered into town for the St. Patrick’s Day parade. I think you only have to have been there on holiday to count as a paddy here. So having an Irish-American father and some great-grandparents makes me as good as born there.


One of the wonderful things about being abroad is that one loses one’s shame, among other things. So here you are…a picture from yesterday’s parade (me and the mayor of San Francisco, Gavin Newsome).

Unlucky Mil

As much as I love movies, I usually bypass the award season: The Globes, the BAFTAS,the Oscars. I have friends, close friends, who love the whole thing, take the Monday after the Oscars off work, dress up, drink champagne, sit through the whole 'nail-biting' ceremony, frocks, tearful acceptance speeches, thanking of God and so on. I seem to be congenitally unable to control my desire to spend the whole evening berating a celebrity obsessed society, how much actors earn, how important they think they are, blah de blah de blah...

However, this year I made an exception, reason being, needless to say, that one Mr. Viggo P. Mortensen, Esq. was up for Actor in a Leading Role for "Eastern Promises" (probably my favourite film of last year, although "No Country for Old Men" was a very close second). Having a bit of a soft spot for our favourite Dane, I decided to go the whole requisite amount of yards (whatever that number is). So the housemates and I set the video (we couldn't stand having to sit through adverts). I made sure there were no calls to give the game away, and we settled oursleves in about an hour after start with lovely food, drinks. I donned a delicious cleavage-bearing aqua silk frock with a diaphaneous pastel purpley/greeny bolero, put the hair up and squeezed into killer Kurt Geiger aqua heels.

A few hours in we all remember why we never watch it: but the champagne was helping. Great to see Tilda Swinton and Javier Bardem win and a lovely trawl for "No Country" to that point. Eventually there are just the two categories to go: Actor in a Leading Role and Best Film. They start the run up to the Best Actor and preview some previous winners.

Guess what happened next?

Follow your dreams...except for that one where you're naked at work.

I've been here for ten weeks now and beginning to feel much more settled. Obviously y'all are asking me if I am enjoying it and if I'm happy, what I'm missing, etc. It goes without saying that I miss you all, enormously...and I stand by my belief that London is the best city in the world. However, for what ever reason, there is something about living somewhere smaller and by the sea which is what I need right now. Whatever I decide to do in four years time, I think I made a good choice about studying here and I am following that dream (whatever number it was in my long history of new plans), really enjoying meeting new people and expriencing a different culture, even if it is in many ways similar to our own. Therefore, there is by definition, much that remains a complete mystery to me.

Perhaps 'a complete mystery' is not quite the right phrase. Had my life been more 'traditional' my surname would, as you know, have been Brady not Raynor. So I ask you, where else but in America would you have a random stranger walk past you in the street, spit on you, and shout in your face, "F@ck the Brady Bunch!"

I am still finding it amusing that people don’t always understand me and find my accent ‘cute’ and ‘charming’. It’s perhaps not quite so amusing that I am often asked, “So what would a British person say about this?" Just so you all know, I am taking it upon myself to speak on behalf of the whole nation with alarming regularity and some might say reckless abandon. Certainly on most occasions my opinions have no element of fact or knowledge involved whatsoever… as you know.

I was reading the other day that on being asked what he missed about England now that he spends so much time in LA filming ‘House’, Hugh Laurie said he missed the buildings and the cruelty. The British, he said, are very harsh people: hard to impress, very tough on each other. It's not that the British are more honest - you're just under no illusions with us. L.A. runs on optimism, enthusiasm and flattery. Apparently people say there's a limit to the number of years you can stay in LALA without going slightly mad. It's just too damn sunny in every dimension: the weather, socially and professionally.

I found that simultaneously both amusing and perhaps portentous! But then again I did come to the foggy city instead. However he also said that as a scientific type he’s a bit miffed with our current love affair with all things Eastern. Apparently when he sneezes on the set, 40 people run to hand him Echinacea. So he’s taken up boxing as a response to men in white pyjamas feeling each other's chi. And on that point, with darling Hugh I must diverge.

And this post's picture is really for Susan, Bernie and Staffs Jules. It serves two purposes: firstly, it's my desk, so it proves that I am studying, and secondly to introduce you to the house cat, Miss Lulu Bunny. When I'm fingers to the grindstone it's her spot of choice.

Kung Hei Fat Choi! 恭喜發財!

... which loosely translates to "Congratulations and be prosperous” rather than "Happy New Year", but I’ll go for that. You see those characters at the top? I’ve got to learn that. Now you know I struggled with Spanish wherein, for example, “todos los ingredientes son naturales’ really does mean ‘all the ingredients are natural.” So what do you think my chances are with 恭喜發財? I will be calling on your Chinese translation services, Kate!

Justine’s mum, Patty, took me to the San Francisco ballet: a beautiful building and a very good dance company. We’re planning to have a Patty/House trip to the Annie Liebowitz exhibition coming at the end of this month. Patty’s a member of the museums so we’re going to see them all on Wednesday afternoon outings while I still have a light school schedule (pronounced ‘shed – yule’ obviously).

Susan and Bernie just sent me a great parcel full of monkey things (pyjamas, slippers, pants), hilarious London postcards, chocolate (my favourite dark chocolate gingers...mmm) and a 70’s music CD. You have no idea how happy that Jackie CD has made two 43-year old women! I was dancing to ‘Love is the Drug’ in my monkey pants!


I was going to put this picture of the dogs, Emma and Lucky, on the blog last week. I took it just after New Year when we went for a walk on Alamo Square overlooking the painted ladies (the old Victorian houses – it’s a San Franciscan landmark which people come to photograph because you can see old and new SF). On Sunday little Lucky Dawg was run over by a car so you can imagine we are a very sad household indeed. He was a real little character and if there is a doggy heaven we hope it’s full of the pigs ears and broccoli which he loved.

Taxi!

Firstly, it's true about the taxi driver. I had a few "Really?" emails. Here's his website: click here

I have a new tennis buddy: Justine's mum, Patty. She gets very loud and enthusiastic, is impressively knowledgeable, has all the old completed draws for the Grand Slams easily accessible by her chair, finds Rafa's nervous tic (continually pulling his pants out of his bum, for those of you who don't know) thoroughly entertaining, and has the long-running hots for Lord Carlos of Moya. El Carlissimo. Who in their right minds wouldn't? Ahhh! And she finds Andrew Murray Mint annoying and arrogant. Score! As they appear to say here.

North Beach looking towards Alcatraz Island

"It's an odd thing, but anyone who disappears is said to be seen in San Francisco."

That's what Oscar Wilde said anyway.

However, rather than finding the disappeared here, it seems that we have had a previous resident disappearance. So we get very loud knocking at our door and a beardy scruffy man (usually my type, I know) begging for, well, let's call her...Marissa. Most insistant he was. Looking quite...needy, shall we say? Eventually he asks, "So have you replaced Marissa?" At which point the never-knowningly-bashful Joanna shouts, "P!ss off! We're lesbians." So we're hoping that approach will get rid of most of 'Marissa's' ex-clients. And there was a shooting on the corner. It's like being back in Peckham.

View of SF from Sausalito
So what's new? I go to school and try to study but it's tough: brain neurons seized some years ago and the mid-terms are looming ominously. Last week I had a lovely day in Sausalito eating Sushi with my co-student Nicole followed by drinks with Chris. I was approached in the bar by an old guy who wanted to take me to a very posh dance at the Presidio. You know my penchant for a 'slightly' younger man. But doesn't it always seem to be that it's the old ones who love me? How unfortunate is this tiresome and very long-running discrepancy? I had almost extricated myself already, having been dealing with this type of situation for many, many years, but fortunately Chris turned up in the nick of time from the rest room(that's the loo...I'm soooooo US now) looking, well, 6 foot 2 (maybe more), marathon-buff and rather young and dashing. That put an end to it. He would have been so very handy in South America.

It was pouring with rain as I got the ferry back across to San Francisco, so I hopped in a cab to go and see Holly in North Beach. As we stopped at the traffic lights, the cab driver reached under his seat and pulled out...a clarinet. Yes indeed...an E flat clarinet which he proceeded to play as he drove into North Beach and straight past Holly's house. He turned back as soon as he realised he'd shot past. That was by no means instantaneous, I can tell you, but it meant I could get in the last few bars of Strangers on the Shore...which was nice.

The Yule Blog

I have now had the pleasure of a live music event at the Warfield: A great venue with the completely fabulous 'pound it into your head' rock of Queens of the Stone Age. No need for a dealer - I got quite high just breathing in there. Then onto a very cool cocktail bar in the Mission (hispanic trendy area in south SF) to top off my first proper night out here. I did a spot of Christmas shopping on Haight Street. I know it's now a little 'cheesey' but I love the string of independent shops, like a cheescloth, tie-dye, organic, yoga, flowers-in-your-hair-hippy-heaven. You can almost hear the ghosts of Janis, Jimi and Jerry. It's Ben and Jerry's on the corner of Haight-Ashbury these days unfortunately: times change.

Things are all good in my new home. The housemates are fun. I get fed daily by one of the best chefs in San Francisco (I know, talk about dropping on!) and we drink champagne and talk politics and just about everything else until 2 or 3 in the morning. And I get to do dog-walking in Alamo Square overlooking the painted ladies, one of the most famous sight-seeing spots in the city. Seriously... it's all good.

I went back to my old haunt of Venice Beach for Christmas and caught up with friends. I still love it but continue to dislike LA in general. Arron still insists that I sound like Nigella Lawson. How little she knows! Dave needed some friend support to do a major family Christmas and I ended up meeting most of them (every phillipino in LA, I think) and being fed enormous quantitles of delicious phillipino food. Dave almost managed to poison me with seafood but disaster was averted when my super primed senses spotted the tell-tale shrimp smell. If you remember my trials in Peru from last year you know that I don't want to be going there. His dad loves the pokies, so Christmas evening we drove to Las Vegas to meet more family. Barry Manilow was on: seriously tempted. "Hey, Baz! My name's Mandy. Sing it to me!" We were sitting atop the Stratosphere Bar, great view, easy jazz, and it started to snow. Apparently it only happens a handful of times a decade. Jill and I had some lovely walks along the beach and went to a really good comedy night in Hermosa Beach where Jay Leno plays every Sunday. All good times, but I have to say that as I was sitting in the bus and I saw the San Francisco skyline in the distance my heart skipped a beat. Perhaps I've left my heart here already?

"Isn't it nice that people who prefer Los Angeles to San Francisco live there?" ~Herb Caen

Anyway... Ano Neuvo!