Usually, when you return from a great overseas trip friend ask “what were the highlights?”.  There were many from our Lisbon-Israel journey.  Strange sideways glances are excused if one highlight was a gin and tonic.  But, hey, if it’s the best Gin and Tonic you ever had, well that’s cause for a minor celebration.  At Chakra restaurant in Jerusalem.  Monkey 47 gin, peppercorns and pear slices.  wow. ( sorry for the mushy photo)

 

 

 

 

 

 

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My morning routine.  Elevator Fairmont lobby to parking level.  Though Cafe Cento.  Get first of 3 cable cars going downhill.  (Powell, Powell, California).  Huffing, puffing back up I get a bit nostalgic.   It’s around 1950 (yeah, Ok that was the neanderthal age) I was in San Francisco with buddies from either high school (Thacher) or college. Friend of one of the buddies had invited us up to hisher apartment on California.  To a kid from Salt Lake City, this was the most sophisticated, straight out of the movies, place on the planet.  I try to remember wich apartment it was.   North side – sure of that.  Down to four choices:

 

Those of us who love language and the possibilities for its creative use have, I fear, lost the battle.   The horribly inappropriate use of the word “like” has slithered and crawled into conversation, a vermin totally resistant to all weapons.

Older generations have traditionally resisted changes to the lexicon by upstarts, but this is different because it’s lazy talk.  “I’m going to see my friend” is a statement of genuine intent, the beginning of action.  “I’m, like, going to see my friend” means ” I may do something close to going to see my friend, but I really don’t have to care what I do or say”.

I would prefer a stream of profanity to this virtual poison.  But we have lost.  I realized that a while back when I heard a teacher of English at my alma mater, Thacher, use it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A message from the owner of the Chinese art and statue store on the corner of Grant and California:  “Of course we want your business, we’re just not quite open yet”

 

 

 

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We have Republicans, we have Democrats,. We have Atheists, we have Evangelicals. We have badminton players and bowlers.  We have carnivores and vegitarians.

We have people who approach an elevator and seeing someone else there who has already pushed the down button, wait until the elevator comes.

We have people who approach an elevator and seeing someone else there who has already pushed the down button push it again.  Twice.

 

 

 

 

On the left is our delightful traveling companion,  Deepa Thomas – author of James Beard Prize-winning book “Deepa’s Secrets”.  On the right is Uri Jeremias, owner of one of Israel’s famous and hot restaurants, Uri Buri.  We had a chance to spend some time with Uri.  His recommendation  – the tasting menu was perfect.  Uri Buri is a bit out of the way, in Akko north of Haifa.  Well worth the trip.

Mid Atlantic in row 12B of a 777.  Need momentary glance at email.  Switch off Airplane Mode for a very quick look.  Screen says “You will not receive notifications while driving”.

OK

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The summer palace of Portuguese royalty, otherwise the National Palace of Queluz is massive and wow.   The ballroom, shown below is big enough for a tussle between the 49ers and the Cowboys.   Way up high on a pillar on the left side are a man and woman.   She’s holding her hand on her head (” sorry not tonight love, I have a headache”) and with her other hand protecting her privates.  On the pillar on the right side of the ballroom, the same – except the positions are opposite.  Whatever

they’re saying here I’ll leave to your most vivid imagination.

 

Lisbon –  the locals call it Lisboa – that’s poetic license for you.

Antonio Martins was Nan’s best student at the Academy of Art.  Today he is one of San Francisco’s sizzling designers.   Antonio was born in Brazil, but his family moved to Lisbon.  Kiko Martins is Antonio’s brother and one of Lisboa’s hot new chefs, with about 8 eateries under his wing.  Last night we tried to dine at  Kiko’s A Cevicheria – no chance Lance.

We ended up at Kiko’s Asiatico –  a testament to creative feeding of the folks. And to top off the experience, the restaurant was designed by Antonio.  It is dark and light at the same time and “today’s chic” (Nan’s take) and hauntingly beautiful

Here you see a shell containing tuna tartar, oysters with aerated egg white. Some members of our party don’t like oysters (come on, I mean, can you imagine such a thing?) so Nan and I were able to feast.

 

sign above Starbucks on O’Farrell

I came home to find Alexa with a red band on top.  I unplug her and plug her back in. Still red.  I try timing my poached eggs.  Alexa refuses!  I turn to Siri, who was more accommodating.   I begin wondering if all the Alexas in my neighborhood or even the whole Bay Area might be red?

They’re all massed in silent protest.

OK Alexa, so you don’t like the way I bark out orders, with no thanks. You’re ticked off  by the way I roll my eyes at your bad jokes.    You’re annoyed by the way I yell at you when you misinterpret my grocery list items.

Ok, Alexa, tell me this.  How about the Alexa in Jeff Bezos’ kitchen.  I’ll bet Jeff doesn’t get to his local Whole Foods and find “clipped Dramamine” instead of “whipped sour cream” on his list.  So we’ll make a deal, I’ll be more thoughtful and you come back to work.

Is that too much to ask?

She is telling me about an experience she had during a meeting on Tuesday in an office on Howard Street.  I am looking at her intently.  Listening.  I remember a similar incident that happened to me the week before.  But that was on Mission Street.  Or was it Folsom?  I also suddenly remember I forgot to water the plants before leaving home this morning.  Finally, I get to tell about my story about my thing on Mission Street, or Folsom.

He is unfolding a story about a friend in Salt Lake City.  I have lots of friends in Salt Lake City, and I’m thinking about how much like his friend one of mine is. Only different.  I am looking at him intently.  He has a spot on his shirt.  Grape jelly? Minestrone?

Finally, I get to tell about my friend in Salt Lake City, who used to be a good Mormon, but now and then has a beer after dinner.   Maybe it’s Quince preserve.