Back in SoCal

After a brief diversion to the Pacific NW, we threw ourselves into setting-up house mode. Anyone who has tried to sustain the virtues of a life without auto ("lets do more walking") upon returning from Japan or Europe will understand the challenge: limited public transport with roads designed for the steady flow of 1+ ton vehicles, not pedestrians. I specifically recall our romantic folly after we left Tokyo and, when walking to a local market in Ithaca, NY, were splattered by cars whizzing by, as we raced across a highway to get to sidewalk.

In that spirit, we bought a mini-van.

All the things we swore we'd never do - like drive one of these - but for some of us that denial started with not getting married in the first place, then putting off having kids, not cooking, etc. Postwar affluence, careerism, Cold War feminism, etc were all contributing factors, but we're deep now in all of the mentioned and loving it. The Odyssey is actually fun to drive.

Until our dining patterns coalesce, we've been using the breakfast bar for quick eats.

And we settled on a couch.

Comfortable, 2/3 cheaper than major retailers, and found just down the street!
Met-up with some Lausanne students: Jeff and Elle joined us at Malibu Seafood - a great roadside institution always serving a fresh catch with a sashimi-quality selection. We look forward to having folks over to the house, but, like most things out here, the social interaction takes conscious work to achieve; the traffic patterns of work, school, and play don't overlap much. Generally a tough situation for family or church life.

At least when measured within a 2 or 3 generation span, the richness of our Tacoma church life seemed partially owed to the fact that livelihood was less tied to a specific intellectual skill-set; when people lost or switched work, they found something in the area. In recent history, Tacoma also had a smaller % of college-educated, compared to, say, neighboring Gig Harbor; less transient, perhaps, too, as a result.
But folks like us move - sometimes great distances - to find work, then cobble together the rest of the social picture later. However, following familiar patterns can help. To that end, got Michael & Jack registered for swim lessons rightaway at a neighborhood club for the 3rd year running.
This place serves up great easy fare and, I'm not joking, the best chicken tenders and cheapest gin & tonic you'll ever have! Watching the boys swim while sipping a G&T ranks up there among summertime activities. A simple stand, really, but there is food intelligence there, unlike the upscale Marmalade Cafe, where I couldn't get a decent pancake. Built with "Tuscanesque" lavishness in its decor - heavy drapery, thickly wrought iron - I think the restaurant was built around a concern for ambience first; food second (or third). Sorry, for griping.

Southern California is an ideal climate, once you get past the annual fires, floods, and imminent danger of earthquakes. I was struck at seeing the scorched earth in Malibu Canyon from last year's fires. The area is beautiful, but for me the question has always been access to beauty.

Topography helps, because a hilly area affords views whenever you turn a corner to get your groceries, but it's different when you have to travel to temporarily experience a beautiful setting, only to return to your subdivision. More griping!
Michael made a friend (Noah) to argue over some Star Wars detail. The valley population north of LA is 1/3 Jewish and we've enjoyed having great deli food (bagels!) around, although the quantity of free pickles you get at your table seems skimpy compared with delis on the East Coast. And I'll never forget the strawberry iced bagel I once saw at a Tacoma coffee stand. They tried turning it into a doughnut.

I represented the division at the kick-off Academic Fair. Balloons, music, food, and people milling about reminded me of the Puyallup Fair, and then it hit: FAIR! Only I wasn't pushing hot tubs or miracle knives, but academic majors. No giveaway frisbees or tote bags either.

Classes begin tomorrow!

Whidbey Island - Tacoma

We arrived at LAX July 30th and flew out on August 2nd to visit the Pacific NW, capping an intense period of travel with further travel, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do; traveling to feel grounded. The international adoption classic, I Love You Like Crazy Cakes, features prominent spreads of airplanes, but, in our case, the parents also seem to arrive home...by flying.

We spent the first 3 days moving into our new place, introducing Carolyn & the boys to their new home and their new, upper-middle class demographic. Matt helped us settle in and the Kwongs came over to see Carolyn and the boys, after a full year.
This column functions (besides holding the electrical) to define the otherwise minimalist dining and living room space, opened further by almost two walls of solid windows and French doors.
Then on to Whidbey Island which connects to the mainland via ferries and a bridge at the northern point of Deception Pass.
Pier at Coupeville - a tourist trap near our rental with great ice cream (no hot dog stand this year), park, Japanese antique store, and a very good toy store. Missed not being able to go in a bar with minors (as in Lausanne).

There was an endless supply of driftwood for fires. I was surprised to discover that a roasted marshmallow is the one food Jack seems to eat slowly, savoring each morsel.
Aunt Suzanne's backyard was a natural play area, searching for raspberries and photo ops.
Introduced Michael and Jack to Mr Potatohead (the pipe has been discontinued) and Gumby. Did you know that the 1950s version was an actual spud?
Michael and Jack yucking it up at a Port Townsend cafe, where we had "not bad" as compared to "real bad" Mexican food in Switzerland. Europe doesn't know what to do with Mexican food - it's an idea with no authentic link in their populations, like small towns in Minnesota used to be.
This is why we come to Whidbey: the boys can PLAY, survive injuries, throw stones, be pirates, etc. Ocean liners (see background), freights, tug & naval boats, and the occasional Trident submarine pass through the inlet, heading for open water and - given the periodic ferry crossings - add an element of seafaring life occurring between us and the Olympic Mountains. Worth the price of admission.
Jack and Leoni - friends from Switzerland - happened to be attending a wedding on Vancouver Island, so came over for a visit, as did Aunt Suzanne. We attended the same church in Vevey.

On the ferry, dancing to a banjo.

Michael and I watched someone pull a 20" Coho salmon out of the water, then kill, filet, and feed the carcass to seagulls. Fish were jumping out of the water. I'll never forget the time I saw the resident eagle dive and catch a salmon in front of me - my one hunting/fishing yarn.

We also stumbled upon rather tasty American fare at a local hotel - the Alabaman waitress was stand-up material - and the Red Apple grocer was announcing the soon arrival of rotisserie chickens. Greenbank Farms (thanks, Suzanne!) had the yummiest loganberry (cross between blackberry and raspberry) pie, loganberry port, loganberry wine, etc. We also found out about children's theater going on weekly in Langley.

Taking time to be somewhere - enjoying company, vacationing with others - is not the book out of which my childhood was written. (Planning is, however).

I may learn to fish. And we may be back. Next year.

Good-bye Switzerland

The final week of our year abroad was spent kinda living the way I had for 5 years 25 years ago: in a rustic alpine chalet.
In a low-ceiling, 17th c. chalet apartment, we enjoyed a routine outdoors: hung laundry, stinging nettles, runs to the village for our bread, coffee yogurt, and postage stamps.

New mountain play area
with the requisite miniature train.

Sentimental Aside

My folks almost lived to travel, undertaking annual cross-country road trips while I - head pillowed on the speaker console of our Plymouth wagon - listened to hours of Top 40 radio. Late at night, AM frequencies brought in stations from far-off (I distinctly recall a superior playlist from Little Rock, AK); my little mind balancing distance, time, and speed in mobile-like, tipping motion: 500 miles from home, "Born to be Wild" is playing here, too?  The trips became infrequent and brief when my folks ran a liquor store on Olympic Blvd in downtown LA, but I suppose I passed through 30 states before turning ten. Rarely stopping - my parents didn’t know leisure – “adventure” meant hunting down the ice machine in that night’s motel.

Meandering became second nature and remains a driving force in my own family life. The trajectory from Wakayama, Japan to SoCal extended to include upstate New York and Europe.

Vevey

The last days of our Swiss year were spent quietly by the lake, visiting Edith Schaeffer and her daughter, Susan, who was visiting from Cambridge, England.

Origami placemats: folding paper cranes entertained me as a child; now Michael & Jack.

Parenting is much about the recycling and bequeathing - of memories.

We rode the telecabine (gondola) higher up the Alps, then hiked past grazing cows to the refuge (shelter) in Taveyanne.

The village is blanketed with snow in winter - skiers cross over rooftops - so the villagers  scatter, returning in late April.
The weather turned cool, so eating fondue in late July felt perfectly natural.

Our year in Switzerland was lived - unexpectedly - minus the mountains, whose craggy, multiple peaks and ranges crisscross each other in spectacular fashion, with vineyards terraced down to the lake. We bought a landscape painting by local artist, Walter Malfi, to remember the setting.
A year is short, but Michael’s kindergarten life and weekly fellowship with All Saint’s
- besides our prior history and friends in the area - anchored us socially. We’ve moved around enough to know that you have to really make the effort in the first few months, or your social life permanently freezes; you can suddenly become just part of the furniture.

Which reminds me that we’re in the market for a couch, since moving to a beautiful townhouse in Westlake Village - our first non-housesitting gig.  We're curious to visit Wertz Brothers in Santa Monica, where the rich and famous unload their stuff. The house came with a state-of-the-art kitchen – a sterile showpiece of recent domestic life, given the outsourcing of family meals and the disappearance of the table. The ongoing church debates over alcohol at communion seem especially irrelevant; I mean, why argue over grape juice vs wine when we’ve completely lost the table?

Parting Shots
One last ride on the tall slide;
Jack couldn't manage this 9 months ago.
One last gelato
One last view

Here we are back where we began in SoCal, getting invites to foreclosure bus tours while setting up house, waiting for the market to bottom. Classes begin August 25th and we resume life in the Conejo Valley, so what did we do?

Went up to Whidbey Island too see the unspoiled beauty of the Pacific Northwest and to visit friends in Taooma (prominently featured in Alaska Airline gazettes now!) and to put a new roof on our beloved home, anchoring us in another time and place.