The Life of 2ME

In The City of the Petit and Dead

2009-07-12T07:20:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Strasbourg everybody where everything is tiny and the streets are deserted. You can lay in the middle of the street for hours and not even come close to being run over. Here sits the Council of Europe--this is an international hub. There should be tons of people running around from important meeting to important meeting, and tourists galore. I don't think I've seen 10 people total since I've been here. For the locals this is normal since it's vacation time in France and everyone is in the country but for a New Yorker it is just weird. The quiet is killing me! The lack of people outside is making me crazy!!
But in all serious folks, I'm rather enjoying this tranquil setting before a month of hot, loud, crazy India. I haven't slept so well and seen such vivid dreams in a long time. Getting out of the craziness called NYC has been good for me. So why did I schlep to Strasbourg on my way to Delhi? That’s easy—Sveta. Sveta and I go way back, 17 years to be exact, to Ekaterinburg, Russia where we worked together for CARE and the American Councils. Besides counting humanitarian aid at warehouses, we traveled all over the Urals and Western Siberia recruiting high school students for a US-government exchange program (the same type of program I’m working on now with Afghan kids). Anyway, she’s decided to be a single mom and is having a baby in less than a month. I decided to make a stopover and help her get ready for the big event. She’s just moved into a new apartment and needed help fixing up the baby’s room, moving furniture around, putting stuff in storage, etc. I even stocked her freezer with homecooked meals to enjoy when she’s too tired to cook. The least I can do for my pregnant friend. I’ve been hoping that she’d give birth to “Motya” while I was here but as the sun rises on this Monday and my bus back to Frankfurt is in just a few hours, I don’t think it’s going to happen. Sveta doesn’t want it to happen, she’s not ready. But you never know when a kid is going to make its grand entrance into the world. When the cake is done, it’ll pop out of the oven I always say.
Back to Strasbourg. It’s a quaint little town. Little is the city and little is the way people live. Their lives are regimented routines and they seem to like it that way. It’s as if you stirred up their little routines, they’d freak out entirely and think the world was coming to an end. Practical, regimented, on the straight and narrow are words I’d use to describe life here. In other words: B-O-R-I-N-G! Quite the opposite of the US where things are lived larger. Well who am I to judge? Not judging, just making an observation. Anyway, my favorite observation here has been the nun who sits in the garden of the old folks’ home and knits in the afternoon. I watch her from the window, probably her time to relax and unwind away from her routine. It must be nice to take joy in such simple pleasures.
The sun rises on this quiet city. Singing birds are the only thing I hear from the city. Tomorrow is Bastille Day so many took advantage of a long weekend to spend time outside the city. I will spend my Bastille Day arriving in Delhi and, after 5 times arriving in Delhi, finally leave the airport and catch a glimpse of the loud, colourful, massive, hot, exciting, noisy country that is India. What a switch from Strasbourg, I hope I can handle it!

On The Road Eastward

2009-07-10T13:15:00.000-07:00

12:30 pm in Frankfurt. OK readers now the blog gets interesting. As per usual, I’ve left my NYC abode for a month of work with the Afghans. This time we’re doing the program in India which is rather exciting. After flying through Delhi five times, I finally get to leave the airport! But first, a stopover in Strassbourg, France to see Sveta, my very pregnant friend/former assistant from my Russia days. She’s decided that at 36, with no marriageable men in sight, she’s having a baby by herself. I’ve decided to give her a few days of pre-birth prepping before dealing with the Afghans. I think she’s going to have me paint the baby’s room and arrange furniture around her new apartment she just moved into. She doesn’t have many people she can rely on in Strassbourg so it’s the least I can do for her.
I left the cats in good hands with my friend Sam from Minnesota. He is the other half of Jeff and Sam, the high school sweethearts who used to live in NYC but moved back to the Twin Cities to buy a house three years ago. Sam had an itching to spend the summer in NYC so I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse—take care of my cats and house for a month rent free. Mama Suly’s cancer has subsided a bit thanks to Dr. Wen’s magic herbs, so I go to India with not such a heavy heart. Crossing my fingers and saying my prayers that she (and the other two) will be just fine for the month.
Leaving my house wasn’t as crazy as it usually is. Maybe because I had a friend staying and didn’t have to clear the closets, throw stuff in the basement, clean the house from head to toe. Sam’s easy going which made the departure less stressful. I even had time to hang out with Eddie and take a dip in his pool before heading to the airport.
Rather nice to be leaving later than usual and not going to Afghanistan where I while away my time waiting for something to happen. I managed to squeeze in a 4th of July weekend drive up to Maine for the wedding of Tim and Tana, two of my teachers from last year’s program. They insisted I come for the wedding and how could I say no. I didn’t want to sacrifice my personal time to swelter away in dusty Kabul. I’d rather go to a wedding in Maine! What a fun time it was despite the rain and mud. The very simple ceremony was held at Tana’s stepmom’s house out in the boonies. It had rained all week so the ground was well saturated and the roads rather muddy. I managed to find a somewhat firm place to pitch a tent for the night. The rain held out for the quick ceremony on the proch then we all went under a tent for the reception and dancing. A great time had by all. I was decked out in my Afghan garb which caused quite a stir. My line for the night was, “I’m the one that dragged them to Afghanistan.” Open your mouth about Afghanistan and you never stop answering questions. I was talking about it all night. The Justice of the Peace thought I was a Catholic priest in my robes. Boy does he need to get out of Maine more often!
The ride home was long and contemplative. I do my best thinking on the road. It was a chance to clear my head and prepare for this coming month in the Punjab with my staff and darling kids. I wasn’t alone on the trip, I bought 4 live lobsters to come down with me. We ate those up on Monday night out of Pete’s deck. Deeeeelicious!!!! Ah the Punjab, the program. So far none of the kids have visas to go to the US thanks to the 49% run-away-to-Canada rate this past year. We’ll see how many come to camp. Even if none show up, we are ready with a great teaching staff. Who knows what awaits me in the Punjab. In the meantime, I have a bus to catch to Strasbourg.

End of June update

2009-06-25T05:23:00.000-07:00

Swine Flu missed me. Yet the eyes of suspicion and semi-paranoia were upon me though at PS42 as I told everyone about my trip to Mexico. A flu went through our school for a few weeks causing mass hysteria and low class sizes. Any kid with a fever was out of there. One fourth grade class had 9 out of 30 students present one day. Rather crazy May it was. Now we have this mysterious Fifth disease that is going around. It gives kids red cheeks as if they’ve been slapped around. Seems to always come around this time of year so as to add some fun to the end of the school year. I’m amazed that being HIV+ I haven’t contracted one of these ailments from the kids and croaked. Guess it has to do with sturdy genes—thanks mom and dad and all the generations before them.
Felix sits and stares at me as if he wants to tell me something. I think he’s just figuring out a way to snuggle between me and the computer. Forget it cat, it’s blog time. I have been more attentive to my cats’needs than my blog needs as of late. Speaking of cats, Mama Suly’s cancer has ebbed in the back of her mouth thanks to Dr. Wen’s Chinese herbs. I can’t believe that a dire diagnosis in January of 3 months to live has come and gone and now it’s 6 months later and here she is snuggling on my arm on the couch. Guess she has tough genes like me. Suly and I have been taking 1.5 hour drives out to Speonk on Long Island every two weeks to see Dr. Wen and track her cancer. One treatment didn’t take, another didn’t either and her mouth was inflamed red with the spreading cancer. The third and last protocol of herbs worked and we’ve kept the cancer down and her mouth looks a healthy pink colour. With a month-long trip to India in my future, such news makes me happy and relieved. Now I can go to India with not such a worried soul. Hampton Vet in Speonk is a great place. Everyone is so friendly and loves Suly (what’s not to love), the other petowners and I strike up conversations about our “kids” and how fabulous Dr. Wen is. I feel pangs of parent-ness when I ready the car for Suly and make the drive out there. Some think it’s rather excessive but she’s worth the time, gas, and money.
Rain, rain go away! How much water can we have? My garden doesn’t really mind it but after weeks of it, come one!! Puts a damper on all the outdoor barbeques I want to have and of course weekend street fairing. Luckily it hasn’t affected the weekends too much. Money is still being made. A new flea market has opened up near my house, the Park Slope Flea Market, which I’ve doing on Saturdays. It’s rather dead right now but slowly it will be a happening neighborhood event. I’m trying to get other local artists and designers down there to make it a fun market and get the cheap crap out of there.
Last week was Brooklyn Pride and after a day at the market (cut short by a rain storm) I decided to be prideful and go watch our little parade strut down 7th Ave. Haven’t been in a few years so I decided to get in touch with my gay side and do my civic duty as a homo. The Brooklyn Pride parade is so tiny that if you blink, you’ll miss it. Still it is compact, neighborhoody and full of pride. Being an election year, it was full of wannabe politicians pressing the flesh for the gay vote. In between were the various gay/lesbian groups, Dykes on Bikes, the Queer Cheer Squad, churches, fire and police departments, and of course the pro marriage brigades. I haven’t been to a gay parade in years and it was nice to go hang out with friends and show our pride. Things sure have changed since I came out years ago. Coming out doesn’t seem to be a big deal now, being gay isn’t such a shock to people, it’s more accepted. Still there are things to struggle for: equal marriage rights, HIV and AIDS is still a problem among the young gays. Where do I fit in to all of this? Is it enough to help run a monthly contra dance at the GLBT Centre? Should I be doing more in the community? Probably. I have some ideas on how I can be involved but we’ll table those until September. Right now I have to focus on my summer in India with the Afghans.
India with the Afghans? Well, if you know anything about me, you know that I go off to Central Asia to work on a US-funded high school program for students from Afghanistan. Things have been rather crazy the past few years with a large portion of students running off to Canada, still the State Dept. doesn’t cancel the program. Today the kids who are in the US now will be going back home after their year in the US, so it will be interesting to know how many get on that plane. About half of this year’s kids left for Canada (about 16 out of 37) so far, we’ll see what the final tally is when the plane takes off later today. In any case, I’m looking forward to going to India. After 5 times flying through Delhi, I finally get to leave the airport. Who knows how many kids we will have this year (so far 40 are planned but the US embassy in Kabul hasn’t issued one visa), in any case I plan, hire teachers, get the curriculum together, buy supplies—I’m ready. Leave in about two week’s time and much to do before that. House stuff, bills to pay in advance, classes to finish, a wedding in Maine to go to, a few more street fairs, maybe a dinner party…it just never ends. Maybe that’s a good thing.

Chilling on the Isla

2009-05-07T05:38:00.000-07:00

Cold, grey, rainy New York looms outside my window. The beginning of May and we are a water logged city. Can I click my heels, snap my fingers, blink my eyes, anything to be back on Isla Mujeres?
SNAP! BLINK! CLICK! Aaah Isla Mujeres where the only worry seems to be whether you want to swim or snorkel. 20 minutes ferry ride from resort hell and there you are on this little island where the Mexicans go to relax and the foreigners who like the local pace come for some R&R from their hectic other lives.
Brooks and I got a room at the Posada Del Mar hotel right across the street from the beach for a few days of relaxation. The hotel is more quaint on the website but they’re making it bigger so there was construction going on all around us. Old pictures can be foolish. Still, the hotel was full of people from all over who make an annual pilgrimage to the Isla who were happy to be there despite the mess and banging of builders.
A lot can happen in 3 days in sleepy little place like Isla Mujeres. Lots to do: snorkeling, scuba diving, boating, driving around on a golf cart, paragliding, the list goes on. But I was happy just making my way across the street to the beach and laying under an umbrella all day reading a book. So that’s what I did. Now and then I’d jump in the water to cool off in the turquoise blue sea.
During the day, the Isla is crowded with obnoxious tourists coming over from their resort hells on big katamarans or party boats. They swim, do lunch, drink, shop and (fortunately) go back from whence they came by the end of the day. The rest of us take naps, sip drinks at sunset on the beach and then run into each other on Hidalgo, the long pedestrian street with all the restaurants, bars and shops. Despite the small size of the island, one could still remain anonymous if they wanted. Being inconspicuous and anonymous has always been hard for me so by day 2 we knew half the town. Daniel from Denver, Mindy from Minnesota, Rob and Jennifer from Buffalo, a hot black mama from Atlanta (I called her Boney M), Jill from Ft. Laud, a couple from San Francisco. We were all escaping our regular routines, getting off our merry-go-rounds and doing something totally different for a week or so.
A bright, colorful little place full of friendly people, Isla Mujeres has been able to stave off the resort hell-itis that plagues Cancun across the sea. Though some of that ugliness has popped up here and there around the island, it still remains a haven of peace and tranquility. One day an ugly family from Long Island caused quite a ruckus on the beach and were sent packing back to Cancun. Bad energy is not welcomed here!
My three days here helped suffice a long held dream of going away to Tahiti, laying on a beach reading a book under a palm tree and not having to know anyone or do anything. Tahiti is still a dream but seems so far away compared to a 4 hr flight to Cancun. Will Isla Mujeres be my new Tahiti? Could be.

Lazy Sunday in Merida

2009-05-07T05:18:00.000-07:00

On Sundays in Merida, close off streets, open up the Zocalo to the pedestrians and have a ball. A market is set up on the square with lots of interesting things to buy: hats, wuipas, ceramics, paintings, jewelry, etc. All around the outside of the Zocalo are delicious food stands selling all sorts of great food. The locals and tourists linger at tables, eating, socializing and enjoying a quiet Sunday. In Santa Lucia park, a band sets up and people come to dance the afternoon away. Mostly older couples, these people can really cut a rug! All dressed up in their finery, they come to socialize, strut and court the ladies, flirt and coyishly refuse the invitations to dance (until finally saying yes), fan themselves and gossip, to see and be seen. Families ride bikes up and down the Prospect Mejor which is closed to traffic, artists sell their paintings all up and down the wide boulevard. What better way to spend a Sunday right? Brooks and I enjoyed this happy Sunday until we had to get on our bus to Cancun and then to Isla Mujeres.

I'm Ruined Part 2-The Road Trip To Uxmal

2009-05-01T05:48:00.000-07:00

My $19 a day rent a car suddenly tripled due to insurance (hey better than getting in an accident and sitting in jail) so I figured I might as well use it to its full capacity while I had it. Saturday morning, Brooks and I were up early and on the road to Uxmal (pronounced OOshmal for all you rubes) another one of the many Mayan ruins that dot the Yucatan peninsula. About an hour from Merida, Uxmal is in the hilly part of the Yucatan and a hidden gem of a place. Definitely my favorite of the ruins I saw. Not only for its lack of tourists but for its layout and preserved state. Plus the legend that it was created over night by a dwarf scorcerer adds to the charm. Once again I walked around agog and thinking, boy did the Spanish fuck things up. For a civilization to plan and execute building on such a massive scale, and that most of the buildings still remain intact is just a wonder. Many of the buildings at Uxmal have intricate designs on the facades and amazing bas reliefs. How they pieced this all together to make it last so long is amazing. Brooks and I wandered the ruins in awe, stopping now and then in the shade to rest and drink some water on this very hot day. The grand pyramid loomed before us as we entered. Behind that were three courtyards of rather large scale which were quite impressive. Unlike Chichen Itza, Uxmal doesn’t have any echo tricks so no one was clapping (Thank God). We meandered through the courtyards, down to the ball court (smaller than the one at C.I.) and up a massive staircase to the Governor’s Palace. Perched on a hill, the governor could keep an eye on all his people as they went about their business. I wondered what the inside must have been like in its heyday for now the interior was a cold, damp, stinky, dark place with bats. You could hear them squeaking as you glanced inside. The smell of guano and mildew kept you out though. After climbing the steep stairs of the grand pyramid, the mid-day heat was beginning to get to us so we made our way back to the entrance for some cold water and our AC-ed rental. Being the Yucatecan food connoisseur, Brooks knew of a restaurant known for its Poc Chuc--pork marinated in sour oranges and achiote and cooked to deliciousness. El Principe Tutul-Xiu in Mani was THE place to go for Poc Chuc so off we went down the road to Mani. Driving through small towns, we got a glimpse of everyday village life: big churches on main squares, houses in vivid colours of pink, turquoise, yellow and sky blue, men on 3-wheeled bicycles carrying goods or people, children playing in the streets staring and waving as we drove by, dogs lazily asleep in the shade of a tree. When we got to Mani, the place was dead. Lunch time siesta was in full swing, everyone inside hiding from the blazing sun. All the action was at El Principe Tutul-Xiu as far as we could see. We got a table in the shade of a giant palapa and ordered up some Poc Chuc, Relleno Negro (turkey cooked in a black chili sauce which looks like motor oil) and beers. The Poc Chuc was amazing, the Relleno Negro good too but not fantastic. Tutul-Xiu has a branch in Merida but this is the original restaurant and definitely worth the drive down to take in the local flavor and savor this amazing pork dish. Besides Mayan ruins, the other thing to do here is go swimming in a cenote (that’s se-NO-tay for the same rubes). After our lunch we drove off down a country road, through more villages to a cenote that was recommended to us. Instead of taking the main road, we decided to take a little two laned road in the middle of nowhere, twisting and turning through the countryside. I didn’t know if we were on the right road but I knew we were going in the right direction. Now and then we’d meet another car coming from the opposite way so we knew we must be going toward some sort of civilization. Mexican maps aren’t always clear, nor are the signs so you have to ask people to make sure you’re going the right way. Lo and behold, we ran into our cenote place almost by accident. In a small town that used to be a booming henequen plantation, it’s main allure now is the cenote tour. The small town is dominated by a crumbling hacienda and factory where they processed the henequen (an agave-like plant used for making rope—big business here back in the shipping days). There are a set of mini train tracks that lead out into the fields where henequen was grown. Back in the day, they would load up the henequen on horse-pulled carts and transport it to the end of the line at the processing factory. Nowadays, this rail is used to take avid swimmers to the three cenotes on this vast swath of land once owned by some mighty rich person. Brooks and I piled onto our little cart driven by a man and his son, pulled by a skinny little horse who seemed unenthused about making another trek to the cenotes. It’s a single track so when you meet someone coming the other way, the drivers figure out who is going to take their cart off the track. Once it is figured out, you get out of the cart, the driver pulls the cart off the track, lets the other one pass, then plops your cart back on the track and away you go. The carts are really big sleds on rail wheels, not heavy at all. I forgot to tell you what a cenote is—an underground pool. The Yucatan has many a cenote to visit and they make a nice swimming reprieve to a hot day of touring. This tour was special because you got to go to three cenotes to swim. Turquoise pools of water underground in caverns dotted by stalagtites and beams of sunlight shining through, the cenotes are a little scary but overall a great place to swim. The first one was rather deep (about 70 feet) and dark in the corners so Brooks and I didn’t enjoy it as much as the second or third. Descending down wooden stairs or ladders in some cases deep into the earth we took cooled down from a long hot day of touring in the cool waters of the cenotes. The second one was my favorite, the third was the most treacherous, climbing down a ladder into the dark unknown, trying to keep your grip on the ladder and towel and not slip off. Along the way we would meet other swimmers, families of all sizes having a ball swimming underground. I imagined ladies of the hacienda taking rides out here back in the day to be
lowered down into the pools, swimming in Victorian era bathing suits, making an entire day of it. In our case we only had about 1.5 hour to see all three as the sun gently began its descent into evening. The ride back was magical, the clopping of the hooves, the golden sunset behind us, the gentle rumble of the rails and swaying of the cart. I can’t tell you where this place is, but I can show you on a map. Brooks knows the name of the place—we’ll ask him. Never a dull moment in Merida, we headed back into town just in time to get dressed and head down to the square for the Saturday night concert. More dancers, singers and musicians, food stalls serving up fantastic food: elotes, tacos, tamales, esquites, marquesitas, sopas, and much more. A fun night for the whole town. Women sang along with the singers, children ran around or sat obediently with their parents watching the show, families ate and listened to the music. We Americans have such a skewed vision of Mexico which is a real shame, because here is the real Mexico and it’s so much like us. Too bad more people can’t get passed the stereotype. Or maybe it’s a good thing, why bring narrow-minded people here to this fabulous party and ruin it. My final night in Merida was coming to a close. Tomorrow, Brooks and I were heading to the beach at Isla Mujeres—a gem of an island off the coast of resort hell (Cancun).

The Swine Flu Proviso

2009-05-01T04:41:00.001-07:00

Just to let you know readers, I write about my Mexico trip from the comfort of my Brooklyn kitchen. With the swine flu raging around the world, I wanted to let you know that I left Mexico the day before all this flu madness began. No illness to speak of yet (knock on wood).

I'm Ruined Part 1-Road trip to Chichen Itza

2009-04-28T17:56:00.000-07:00

When one is on the Yucatan Peninsula, there’s two things they must do—go to the beach and the ruins. Chichen Itza is the granddaddy of all the Mayan ruins and about an hour down the road from Merida. There are various ways of getting there and I decided to rent a car. After the 4 hr journey from Cancun, I wasn’t in the mood to hop on another bus. Plus I like the freedom a car brings. Online I found a really cheap rate but after the insurance and taxes, it wasn’t that cheap. Oh the price of freedom huh? Better pay more than sit in a Mexican jail.
I wanted to get the car early so I could get to Chichen Itza before the heat of the day. Of course being Mexico that wasn’t going to happen. Instead of an 8:00 start, it was more like 9:00. The Hertz girl was late, so I went to eat breakfast, we had to wait for the car to arrive from another location, and so on. I kept my inner Brooklyn at bay and repeated the “This is Mexico, go with it” mantra and was just fine. Worse comes to worse I just add more sunscreen and drink more water. So by 9:00 I was on my way to the famed ruins of Chichen Itza.
Speeding down the highway to the C.I. turnoff, there’s not much really to see. The drive is through flat, drab scrub land. Occasionally there’d be a fire for the locals like to burn plots of land for some reason. Maybe for farming or to promote new growth. Besides being nothing interesting to see, there’s no roadside stops or gas stations either. As the gas tank edged closer to empty, I hoped there was a gas station near Chichen Itza or I’d be walking home. Fortunately in the town of Pisto near the ruins I was able to fill er up.
I had a bit of trepidation going to ancient ruins after my four-day trip to Angkor Wat so fresh in my mind. Would they all blend together like an ancient civilization milkshake in my mind? Would I be underwhelmed by Chichen Itza? There was only one way to find out. I pulled into the parking lot and made my way through the tour buses and crowds to the ticket booth. The entrance to Chcihen Itza is like a circus; groups of tourists waiting, Mayans protesting the exploitation of their ancestral home, a big souvenir market. I ignored it all and just walked up to the ticket booth, got my ticket and went inside. No need to be with a tour guide, I have an aversion to them since my Russia days. If I needed information, I’d buy a guide book inside (which I did).
Part of getting in to the place is wearing a day-glo wrist band that says “Chichen Itza” on it. Branded like a calf with my temporary accessory, in I went to view the ruins. There it was smack in my face upon entry, the famed pyramid that is familiar the world over. I expected it to be bigger but still was impressed by its construction and the fact that it’s still standing strong after all these centuries. Bummer that you can no longer climb to the top of it. A rather daunting task, given the tiny steps and the steep grade. I’m sure many a tourist has fallen from those stairs. Groups of tourists from Cancun were all there for the day, each nationality easily spotted—the Brits, the Germans, the French, the Italians, the Americans (always the fattest). Moving about in clumps with their guides, I would sometimes sidle up to listen for a bit before moving on. Chichen Itza is very impressive. As I walked through all the ruins, one thought kept going through my head: “The Spanish really fucked things up”. Well they did. If there weren’t so narrow minded and embraced this pretty advanced culture, things would have turned out so much better for the Mayans and their culture would probably have still been around prominently today. Instead they had to destroy their buildings, books and force the locals to convert to Catholocism. Well, there’s no way to turn back time now. I was impressed with how advanced the Mayans were. The had an observatory to study the stars, a school of philosophy, written books, a code of hieroglyphics and an interesting outlook on life. If they could’ve just given up the more barbaric things like human sacrifices and beheadings, I’m sure they get along just fine with the Spanish.
At the pyramid and the ball court (my favorite spot) the guides tell people that if they clap, it will echo 7 times. So as you walk around the ruins, you a trailed by a cacophony of clapping, so much of it that you never do hear an echo. Rather funny. Chichen Itza is more than just that big pyramid—a sprawling complex of interesting buildings and temples. I toured all of them until the mid-day sun zapped me of all energy and interest in Mayan ruins. So after a cool drink in the shade and a walk through of the souvenir market, I hopped back in my car and headed back to Merida via Izamal, a small colonial era town known for its convent and yellow colour.
I always believe in taking a different road home so instead of getting back on the toll highway, I took the backroads which proved to be more interesting. Sleepy little towns with brightly coloured houses, gardens, palapas (Mayan houses of wood and thatched roofs), people lazing about in hammocks, children riding bicycles waving at me as I passed. For the most part, there wasn’t much life going on in many of the villages. Being mid-day, everyone was inside out of the heavy rays of an unforgiving sun. I’m sure closer to evening the little villages come alive again but I was not going to see that today.
Izamal didn’t underwhlem me in the least. A gorgeous little town of yellow ocher buildings surrounding a big convent/cathedral on a hill in the center of town. I don’t know whose idea it was to paint the town yellow but it works. It’s especially impressive with a blue sky as a backdrop. Izamal too was rather quiet, with a few clumps of tourists to be seen walking around the convent. To my dismay, my camera batteries died in Izamal so I wasn’t able to snap away as I would have liked. Still I got osome pictures of the church and yellow buildings around it. After my little tour, I sat down to lunch in the marketplace across the street from the convent in a little café Los Portales for a carne asada lunch and a grand view of the square. The lunch was very good, I loved the homemade hot sauce of habaneros and sour oranges—two local staples in a lot of the cooking here. As the sun began its descent toward the west, I followed it through more quiet towns on country roads back to Merida.
After leaving Brooks all day to work inside, we decided to take advantage of the car and drive to Progreso, a town on the coast 30 mins away from Merida for a swim and dinner. When in the Yucatan, apparently, one must go to Progreso for fried fish. So after a swim in the warm Gulf of Mexico, we dined on whole fried fish, washed back with cold Victoria beer at Flamingos (one of Brooks’ Progreso eateries). We strolled along the promenade post dinner among all the locals who were hanging out as we were doing, past the marquesita and elote sellers, past the carnival with the Ferris Wheel all aglow, past the excited children with their parents. We drove home around 10, back to a Merida just coming alive with activity. A long day indeed for me but oh so enjoyable.

Getting in the Yucatecan groove

2009-04-23T06:52:00.000-07:00

I don’t think I’ve ever wrote this on my blog but it is one of my traveler truisms: The more I see the world, the more I realize that the world is normal and the US is not. While we in the US speed up with advanced gadgets and technology, we seem to have forgotten the simple things in life. The rest of the world moves at a more normal human pace, yet we speed along and expect everyone else to follow along with us. And when they don’t, we yell and scream, beating our chests with superiority, looking down our noses in contempt. This is not the way to go about the world, no we need to let go of our Americaness and embrace wherever we are. Such is the case with Mexico. I feel sorry that such a warm, vibrant culture is getting so misaligned in the US press causing fear and trepidation about travel to our neighbor to the south.
Well all of that was far from my mind as I explored the sites of Merida and beyond. The sun’s heat begins early this time of year in Merida so people are up early getting as much done before the full intensity of the sun hits mid-day. The bustling pace quiets a bit until about 3 then picks up again until late into the evening. Merida is a cultural gem and there’s so much to see. I didn’t rush to see everything for I wanted to save some things for future visits. Brooks and I spent our first morning shopping at the market, a huge complex of stalls seeling everything you need: fresh fruits and vegetables, spices, shoes,
meat, seafood, chickens, backpacks, souvenirs and so on. This is where the everyday bustle of life goes on and where to see the locals in action. Afterwards I went to the city museum to get some “kul-chah” while Brooks went home to work. I meandered through the museum and then on through the small calles to the Zocalo, snapping pictures along the way, stopping in to see the main cathedral (built by the Spanish on the spot of an ancient Mayan pyramid, built with the stones from this pyramid—talk about recycling) and giant murals in the municipal building. The intense heat kept us inside after lunch, so I siestaed in my cool room in Brooks’ beautiful colonial casa. Brooks has a great little house in the center of town designed around a central courtyard, streaming in light yet keeping out most of the heat. Its best feature is the old floor tiles, done in an Art Nouveau/Deco style. Geometric patterns framed by a repeat of a poppy, a floral design in browns and blues. Tiled versions of oriental rugs. Many of the older places still have these floors—probably a selling point to the many Americans looking at property down here.
Brooks, being the food lover like me, had a list of Yucatecan dishes to try and where to sample them. As the intense sun made its way into sunset, we made our way out into town to try some of the local fare. I grew up on Mexican food and here on the peninsula the food has a different flavor. Habaneros are used a lot but also sour oranges and limes to flavor the food. Being close to the water, seafood is eaten a lot. Turkey is too. Poc Chuc, Relleno Negro, Panuchos and Sabultes, Pibil, Sopa de Lima, Papadzules—so many new things to try, and so many good restaurants to try them in. What I like about Merida is that you can try these dishes in little cafes or fancy restaurants and either way they’re both great. Washed down with a local beer and you’re good to go. Even the street food is good—Elotes (corn with cheese, cream and a spicy lime sauce) and Marquesitas-crepes with cheese or Nutella. It’s all good and safe to eat.
After our dinner we headed to Santa Lucia square for the Serenade, a Thursday night free concert. Instead of being couped up at home watching TV, the locals come out to hear music from local musicians and singers and see dancing groups as well. It’s a wonderful night of culture that’s been going on for over 30 years. The square was full of both young and old, foreigner and local, everyone there to enjoy a night of music and dance. I was most impressed by the women’s costumes of the Yucatecan Ballet Folklorico. White wipas embroidered with colorful flowers and their hair all in a bun and abloom with more flowers and bows. An inspiration for collage, I went back stage after the show to snap a few of the girls dresses and heads. Fortunately they didn’t seem to mind and posed happily.
As the streets quieted, we walked home, stopping at the Café Impala for a late night mango frappe. A perfect end to a perfect first day. Tomorrow is an early day for me as I decided to rent a car for a few days and tool around looking at the ancient Mayan cities. Next stop-Chichen Itza!

Viva Merida!

2009-04-22T20:56:00.000-07:00

After almost 3 months of being cooped up in NYC, it was time to make a break. Eventhough finances are a little shaky, I need to get on a plane for my mental sanity. My friends Brooks has been at his winter home in Merida on the Yucatan peninsula and beckoned me down. Well the beckoning has been going on for awhile and finding a direct flight for $97 each ay, I was basically forced to go.
Left a cold, rainy JFK last Wednesday on a JetBlue flight to Cancun, full of people eager for some beach and sun. Merida is a 4 hr bus ride from Cancun so my journey was not over after a 4 hr flight from New York. I raced past all the British tourists at passport control to get through and to the bus station in time for the 3:30 bus, only to find I had to wait for the shuttle (a shared cab with 3 other people). Of course I was the last person to be dropped off after doing a giant loop of all the hellish hotel/resorts. My inner-NYC was getting all twisted up in a big knot of frenzy and anxiety yet somewhere along the route I reminded myself that this is Mexico and let go of the big knot and relaxed. This wasn’t the only bus to Merida, they run all the time, so I’ll catch the next one. Step one in being on vacation. Instead of fighting and rushing, relax and embrace the slower pace of Mexico. As we drove past row upon row of beach resorts (the Cancun version of hell in my book), I was thankful I wasn’t going to be holed up in one of thoese monstrosities. My version of a cruise ship on land.
The driver finally dropped me off at the bus station and I made my way inside to get a ticket. A small, clean, bustling station with excellent people watching possibilities. I love bus stations in other countries, watching people come and go, being greeted or kissed and hugged goodbye. Mexico is one of those places where the bus station is crowded not so much with travelers but more so in families and friends escorting or seeing off someone. Munching on a ham and cheese croissant and drinking a coffee I watched the scenes before me, little moments of life, as I waited for my bus to Merida.
4 hours later, our bus pulled into the colonial capital of the Yucatan—Merida. Brooks met me at the bus station and whisked me off to my first of many great meals at Pancho’s, a flashy local restaurant. After my flight and bus ride, was I ready for a few margaritas and a nice meal, and so it was. We made a circle around the Zocalo and through the old streets of town back to Brooks’ house. The air was hot and heavy, the old cathedral lit up, cafes and restaurants hopping and the streets full of people. Here was a new part of Mexico for me. I grew up with Baja and now I finally get down to the Yucatan. Merida is a charming colonial town surrounded by ancient Mayan history. I was enamored at the first moment I arrived.

The Post-Easter blog

2009-04-13T06:29:00.001-07:00

Easter Monday in Brooklyn. Why do they call it Easter Monday? What happens on E.M? Get over your hangover day or another day of the holy to be holier than thou? All I know is that too many Mondays have gone by without blogging. Easter Sunday saw about 15 people in my house feasting on leg of lamb, potatoes, asparagus, onion tarts, salad, bird’s nest cake and other assorted delicacies made by yours truly. I took a weekend off of selling shirts to prepare my house for a big meal. Haven’t had a big to do in a few months so it needed to be done. I’m all about celebrating (as you know) and I never turn down a possibility to cook for others, pull out all the glasses, dishes, tablecloths and entertain (plus it gives me a chance to clean the house). Yesterday was the first time in a long while that I actually had everything ready when people got here and was ready to sit and socialize instead of running around finishing up some dish of food. I spent Saturday night making Pysanky (Ukranian Easter eggs) and just realized I forgot to give them out to my guests. Oh well, nobody’s perfect.
Life has been rather mundane even pour moi these past months. Teaching, teaching, teaching but that’s all coming to a pause with spring break because of the holidays. Given two weeks off I felt it was my duty to get on a plane and go somewhere. There were a few options and I chose to go see my friend Brooks in Merida on the Yucatan Peninsula (in Mexico duh!). Hey at $97 each way on JetBlue, I just had to go. Well I am looking forward to a week of heat and beach down south. Plus my blog will get a bit more interesting now with an international trip thrown in to spice up your reading.
I do worry about leaving my Mama Suly who is on a 5-pill-a-day regime. I know Liz my tenant will maintain the regime but still I worry. Separation anxiety I guess. We took a little road trip to see Dr. Wen last Monday, Suly and I. Her inflammation in her mouth is still there and he put her on another herb regime. I botched the first pill regime, giving her only half the dose I was supposed to. Now I’ve got it right and he added another pill for good measure. She didn’t want them last night or this morning (probably got distracted by the lamb I was giving her) so who knows if she’ll want them when I go away for a week. So far she has shown no signs of getting sicker but you never know with cats. She has been getting lots of affection from the other two and giving affection back as well. She still jumps on my shoulders, runs up and down the stairs, and other normal cat things which makes me happy. I’ve been working on a painting of her as a way of dealing with the stress of losing a 16 yr old friend. It’ll be debuted here when it’s done.
After a few weeks break from the Brooklyn Flea in Dumbo, I went back for two weekends to make some cash. I realize how much fun it is to be there and hang out with all my flea friends. Sales were decent, better than in Feb/March so it gave me hope that my shirts are still sellable. While Marushka and I plan to be at the Brooklyn Flea every weekend, I do need to find some other venues for selling my shirts. I still haven’t figured out a strategy but it’ll come clear soon.
Had a sewing frenzy recently and made a ton of my fabric collaged owls and cats which I hope will sell as well as they did at Christmas. I’ve got lots of stuff hanging around that is waiting to be used so instead of spending money to make money, I’m trying to use what I already have to make money. Ergo the owls and cats. We’ll see what else will get produced in my little art studio out back. With that dear readers, I’m off to get some t-shirts and do some tie-dyeing today.

Mid-Winter into Spring

2009-03-15T07:22:00.001-07:00

Good Lord a month has gone by with no blogging. Did I miss it? Not really. Actually I have been busy teaching and in a mid-winter funk, not enough time to sit and write and uninspired all at the same time. So, with the stirrings of spring in the air, it’s time for me to wake up again.
Upon my return from California, I started teaching the Russians again. The ESL budget for the Jewish Centre where I work got cut so no $$ for teaching English. There’s still moolah for professional development so I am now preparing Russians for civil servant exams. Presently I’m preparing a group for the Fingerprint Technician Trainee exam. There are different parts of the test so each week we go over them and I try to get their brains around the American way of taking a test. Besides identifying fingerprints, there’s logic, following written directions, memory booklet (one of my favorites—reading a passage, cover it and answer questions) and of course grammar. So I’m teaching them English all the same. The other night there was a question about baseball and I had to spend 30 mins. explaining the game of baseball and words associated with it. One of my students called it a stupid game to which I got a little defensive (although I’m not a fan of the game myself). Had he ever been to a game? No. So I told him don’t knock it til you tried it (another explanation followed that). Then there was the question with the word “crockpot” in it which turned into a debate about how one can leave something cooking all day without the house burning down. Oh my Russians, always arguing about something but you gotta love them. At least they’re trying hard to better themselves in their new country.
Besides teaching adults, I’ve gone back to teaching the little darlings at the elementary school where I used to teach. No, I haven’t gone back full-time just subbing a lot. Been in charge of a third grade class for 3 weeks while a teacher has been out taking care of her 1.5 yr old son who has been in the hospital with pneumonia. Overall a good class, low level English-wise so my ESL skills have come in handy. I’ve even taught them some Spanish and Russian to jazz things up. They love singing “Oh What A Beautiful Morning” every morning (hey if you got a gay man for a sub, you gotta have a show tune). My assignment with that class is almost over, a few more days next week. It also has lead me to catering the school luncheon next week as well.
So for the last few months as you can see, I get up at 6am go teach my little kids until 4, have a 2 hr break and then off I go to my big kids. I was doing the Brooklyn Flea on the weekends too with Maruska but it wasn’t working out for me so I’m enjoying my weekends off after long work weeks. Times are tough my dears and we must do what we have to do to stay afloat.
In one of my last postings, Mama Suly was dying of cancer. 3 months to live and all of that. Well, I’m happy to report she’s still around, eating, purring, running around being adorable as usual. Doing research on cancer in cats, I looked into alternative treatments and heard a lot about Dr. Wen, a Chinese vet who specializes in herbal treatments and acupuncture. So last Saturday, Suly and I took a road trip out to Long Island to see Dr. Wen. He was a quiet man, very professional yet quiet. He looked at her, listened to her heartbeat, touched her all over, looked at her report from my usual vet and prescribed her some pills to take every day. Little capsules of mysterious Chinese herbs that will hopefully cure her (a 20% chance) or at least give her a longer life than 3 months. She isn’t the best pill taker but the salmon flavored pill covers that some genius invented has been somewhat successful (that is when she doesn’t bite through the soft fish-flavored cover and into the pill itself). So I hope this will help her stay around healthy a bit longer but if not, at least I can say I tried something.
If you didn’t notice, the economy is bad and getting worse by the day which makes me wonder how much I want to invest this spring in new t-shirts for my business or whether I want to sell shirts at all. Where do I go with this business in such dire times? How to make it more successful? It gets tough doing all this alone without help. Maybe I should hire an intern or someone to make the business grow. So many questions to think about and decide. Well with spring less than a week away, maybe the change of season will inspire me into action.

My City By The Bay

2009-02-11T20:39:00.001-08:00

Oh the Bay Area, how I love it. It used to be just San Francisco but now I’ve warmed to the East Bay as well. If I ever decide to move back to California, it would definitely be to San Francisco or Oakland. San Diego is my ancestral home but not my cup of tea anymore. Weather-wise it’s idyllic but boring and conservative as all hell. Still, my family is there so I must make a trip there now and then.
This trip to the Bay Area was arranged around a contra calling gig I agreed to do out here. Actually I wound up doing a lot of dancing here besides contra. My friend Danielle is a NIA instructor and I went to two of her Oakland classes. I’ve been meaning to start exercising on a regular basis and I think I’ve found my niche in NIA. It’s sort of yoga, aerobics, meditation all rolled into one. My body and soul felt so good after an hour of NIA with Danielle. Can’t wait to get back to Brooklyn and find some classes. Being the social butterfly that I am, I always bemoan the fact that social visits revolve around food. Not that I don’t like eating, it’s just so boring after awhile, plus my stomach can only hold so much. So, NIA with Danielle was a great way to be active and socialize at the same time. Plus it gave me an appetite for the lunch dates I had scheduled after class. There was Gaylord’s Indian buffet with Laura and Scott (from my Russia days), a ferry ride to Larkspur to see Tamara and Thai on the Embarcadero with Michelle( another Russia friend). The other dance event basides contra was Ecstatic Dance a regular Sunday morning event in downtown Oakland. This came upon the heels of a heavy brunch at Ron and Melinda’s so it was good to burn off all the calories and cholesterol. Kenny’s wife Rosie, aka Hula Hoop Girl, was there doing her thing with all the other hundred or so people doing their thing to the music. At first I was a little intimidated by this free form dance event but in a few minutes my Brooklyn shield went down and I got into the groove of things. The crowd looked like a bunch of granola chewing, millet smoking, vegan/Burning man types (that’s the cynical New York voice talking) but after a minute or two, they were just a bunch of people who love to dance. And you know what? Everyone should be doing this. Not only is it fun, but it’s a great way to relieve stress and re-center oneself. Some people go to church on Sundays and in Oakland, some people go to Ecstatic Dance. Hallelujah!
The contra dance went off with few hitches. Lots of beginners but I seemd to be able to reel them in and keep the lines from breaking down. It was a bit stressful at times but by the end of the night everyone was in sync and having a ball. The two-man band provided great music on their fiddle and piano to keep the crowd moving. About 90 people showed up to dance the night away. I tried out some tricky dances on them but reverted to easy standards to avoid complete disaster. Ben, Robert, Arcadia and the other organizers have done a great job of getting lots of people to come to their dances. They have a wonderful dance community out here and I’m inspired to get our dance community in NYC growing a bit.
Besides all the dancing, there were the many social visits around town. The Bay Area has great transportation options so I wasn’t always relying on cars to get around. Buses, BART, ferries, foot, you name it, I did it. When I lived here, no one went to the East Bay or used BART much and now I stay in the East Bay so I take BART everywhere. This was the first time I took a ferry to Marin which was fun. Of course walking all over San Francisco and Oakland was great too. I loved taking walks around my old haunts in the city. Spent a Saturday in the new aquarium in Golden Gate Park with my former Brooklyn neighbor Mike, ate lunch on Haight, aroud the corner form my old apartment on Waller, and then walked all the way down Haight to the Castro and then to downtown retracing many steps in my former life here over 20 years ago. It was great to see that many things haven’t changed and yet many things have changed some for the better, some for the worse.
San Francisco isn’t mine anymore but I still have history here. It could be seen as I walked down Haight toward the Castro: my apartment on Waller, the haircutting place where I was during the 89 earthquake, the top of the hill where I cried after finding out I was HIV+, the clinic in the Castro where I found all that out, a building where I spent a night many moons ago, the law office where I used to work, Café Flore where I many a blind date. There was a memory in almost every step I took. Both good and bad ones--memories are memories whether you like them or not.
My week culminated with a fabulous gay dinner party hosted by Ben Monday night. So nice to have a lovely dinner with a bunch of down to earth gay guys for once. Quite a difference from the NYC breed of high maintenance homo. Made me again wonder why I live in NYC where it’s hard to find a boyfriend instead of living I civilized Oakland where guys seem more up my alley. Pauly D, a realtor at the party was throwing all sorts of suggestions at me about refinancing my house and putting a down payment on something out there. Don’t tempt me Pauly D! Well it did have me thinking. Need to make some changes in my life this year and this trip was a chance to clear my mind and figure what the heck I should be doing with myself in 2009. I got a few ideas and I hope to put them into motion when I get back to NYC. So keep reading dear readers!

A Family visit to the Magic Kingdom

2009-02-07T16:54:00.001-08:00

Can a jaded New Yorker go to the happiest place on earth and have a good time? Can he be surrounded by little girls in fairy princess outfits and parents with mouse ears all day without going bananas? Well, believe it or not, he could and he did. Being with my entire family (all 12 of us) was great but I was dreading being in Disneyland all day, however I got intot he spirit of things and had a blast. My 5th grade nephew and I snuck away from the rest of our group to ride all the big rides like Space Mountain, Matterhorn, Splash Mountain and all the rest. We would meet up with the “fam” now and then to do the obligatory family ride like Autopia and then would scurry off to another white knuckle ride.
I can’t believe since the last time I was in Dizzy-land it was 14 yrs ago and the price was much lower than the $70 that it is now. Crazy huh!?! Well we worked that $70 like there was no tomorrow. I created a project for myself for the day. I would take a picture of all the people who used those electric carts to get around the Magic Kingdom. I figured you get to know what America is all about by visiting Disneyland and what better way to showcase the out of shapeness of this country by all the people who aren’t able to walk around the park all day. Once in the park, I snapped a few people and then there were just too many to photograph so I stopped that project about 30 mins. in the park. I was focusing on the happy not the depressing and what better way than to ooh and aah at Tigger and Winnie with my nieces than look at these fat people shlumping around on their little carts.
After all the wild rides (Splash Mountain-thumbs up, finally Disney found a way to use “Song of the South”without being too un-PC, Indiana Jones-big thumbs down—lame ass ride on a stupid jeep) I decided to drop my nephew and hit all the Fantasyland rides with my nieces. Alice in Wonderland is my favorite and we had a ball zooming around on the caterpillars. Then we hit the tea cups and spun around until almost sick level. Mr. Toad’s, Snow White (still scary) and Pinocchio—I love it all.
Around 5:30, we all felt we got our $70 worth and with small nieces having meltdowns, it was time to say goodbye to the Magic Kingdom and go back to reality. It’s great that we were all together—such a rare event for my family and I hope we get to be together again. Next stop the Bay Area for a week of friends, contra dance calling and quiet time to figure out what to do next with my life.

The 1 yr Christopher Vattuone Memorial

2009-02-03T09:35:00.000-08:00

Well the 1 yr memorial for Christopher Vattuone was a big success. Friends came from all over to be part of this event. New York, San Francisco and all parts of San Diego county, they flonged to Clairmont to reminisce and remember our dear friend on the year of his passing. It was a great night. Eric put together a film festival of Chris movies such classics as “Trauma Magdalena”, “Mourning of the Dead”, “Deceived”and “Bruise” were seen after many years. A shrine of pictures was up showing the many stages of Chris’ life (and hair length and outfits) with offerings and candles beneath. A giant picture of him as Ginger La Fosse Knotts De La Hoya (his drag alter ego) graced the patio table, surrounded by a floofy feather boa. Laurie created another shrine too with hearts and pictures. We tried to reach him in the séance room via a Ouija Board I got at Toys R Us all to no avail. Maybe it was too forced or the mood wasn’t right or maybe the fog that loomed over Clairmont got in the way. Well he didn’t come through but somehow it didn’t matter, I think he was smiling down on us and pleased with all the Chris worshipping going on. We demised that when a bag of tortilla chips on the food table caught on fire, Chris had something to do with it. That was when we were doing the “What Do You Know About Chris” trivia game was going on in the living room. He was never one to be upstaged so we figured he made the candle fall on the chips to take all the focus off of yours truly running the game. There were no tears or sadness during the night just joy and fun memories. After the trivia game (which Kenny won) there was some story telling which was rather informative. Many people from different phases of Chris’ life came forward to give their testimonies. Kenny told us when he knew Chris was gay, Eric told about Chris’ meeting with one of his idols Peter Byrnes of Dead or Alive, there were many stories. One fact that came out during the trivia game is that many people didn’t know he was on “The Price Is Right” his favorite game show. Unfortunately the video of this has gone missing so we couldn’t witness him rolling the dice and spinning the big wheel with Bob Barker. Surprise guests turned up like David, Gail and Lyndsey who made a shrine of vintage Dead or Alive records.
Carla and I put together a great party and everyone had a wonderful time. By the end of the night there were whispers of making this annual event, but I was done. I sat between Carla and Tamara on the couch with my cell phone and finally deleted his number from my phone. It was closure for me. Closure on a friendship that spanned over 25 yrs. and it was time to move on. I don’t want visits to San Diego be trips down memory lane or pilgrimages to Chris’grave. We all have our time on this earth and when it’s up, those left behind mourn for a while and then move on. Time for new traditions and friendships. Eric and I plotted out some ideas by going out to The Hole (Pt. Loma’s only gay bar) and meeting some new locals. More time with family and the living. Today I’m going to mark this new phase of my Southern California tradition with a trip to Disneyland with my family (God help me!)

The Sunny San Diego Visit

2009-01-31T08:11:00.001-08:00

From the freezing cold of DC to the warm sunrise of San Diego. Ladies and gentlemen, I get around I must tell you. Instead of waking up in the lush splendour of my mother’s Pt. Loma home, I’ve awoken amid singing birds in my little room above the garage at my friend Carla’s place in Claremont. Growing up in Pt. Loma, we didn’t think of Claremont (not as nice as the point) but now as an adult, it’s not so bad.
Since I didn’t come home for Christmas, I needed to make a trek out west to see the family and January is the best time for that. In addition, my visit coincides with the 1 yr anniversary of my friend Chris’ death. So all of his friends have decided to have a big party this evening to memorialize him. Carla is hosting it and it is gearing up to be a fun night. People are flying in from all over for the event which will include a film festival, games and memorializing. Eric has been busy working on the film festival recovering lost film footage and finding new stuff as well. Chris had a penchant for making movies and we used to grab a camera and film movies in his apartment or his parents’ house in a night. They usually were full of characters that were drug crazed or would wind up going crazy or dead by the end of the film. I can’t wait to see the results of Eric’s editing tonight.
Yesterday was the day he died (a year ago) so Carla and I made a trek to the cemetery to put some flowers and toast him with champagne. Sort of strange to drink champagne at the grave of a friend who died from alcoholism, but we had to do it. It seemed right and not right all at the same time. He would have appreciated the gesture. Chris’family was there too and we joined them for a post-grave visit lunch at the Olive Garden (my first and last foray into this Italian Denny’s). It was nice to lunch with the family and be able to talk about Chris without everyone getting sad and crying. It’s hard for his parents but they seem OK about talking about it now.
Last night we ran around to some of Chris’ haunts, toasting him and remembering the good times. Tonight seems like it’ll be more of the same. I do feel this 1 yr memorial is important but the next time I come to San Diego, I’d like the visit to be about life and not death. There’s too much sadness related to this sunny place. It’s time to change that and make this sunny place a happy place.

The Inauguration Blog

2009-01-22T05:07:00.000-08:00

Tuesday was a great day. A monumental and historic day. Despite the cold, Washington DC was so warm and alive. The energy in town was fantastic. Everyone was so excited to be part of Barack’s inauguration. Everywhere you went there were souvenirs, t-shirt hawkers on every street corner, postcards and buttons with his face, pictures of Barack and family. I think Obama is the most marketed president in our history. Bush got his face everywhere too but for more negative reasons, with Obama it was all about love. The whole city was full of love—you smiled at everyone you met, laughed, exchanged pleasantries along the way. There was no hate, no bitterness at all. No “us” and “them” but a huge collective “we”. All 2 + million of us walking down to the Mall were proud Americans.
The Mall opened at 4 am and people began filling up the lawn. I began my walk down to find Ellen and Magalie around 7:30. Along the way I stopped to buy some souvenirs from the various hawkers. Due to the cold, the batteries in my camera went dead (of all days to go dead) so I found a CVS. Denise, the shift supervisor, was so upset she had to work and couldn’t go see the Inauguration. I could see the tears well up in her eyes when I asked why she had to work on such a historic day. I told her to close the place down or delegate duties to her staff and head down. “Take a picture of the family for me,” she said. “OK,” I replied. Unfortunately the batteries needed to be recharged before using so I was left to pictures on my cellphone.
Our goal was to meet at the Washington Monument. Luckily we found each other with no problem. Oscar, Ellen’s 10 month old, was all bundled up from the cold. He was getting a lot of attention from the civilized mass of people. When Ellen left to go to the bathroom and I got Oscar-holding duty, a TV Guide TV crew came up to film me and Oscar. I pretended to be his father as they asked me questions about the Inauguration. “What are you going to tell your son in the future about this day?” they asked. “Well, that he was part of a historic event in the US.” I replied. They were shocked to see him asleep and I think they wanted me to wake him up but I refused. My 5 minutes of fatherhood on TV Guide TV. Ellen got a kick out of it upon her return.
The sun came out and shined on the Mall, as if to signal a new dawn in the new America. Despite our ruined economy and sullied reputation around the world, the warmth of the sun seem to tell us that everything was going to be OK. The wind blew and the 20 degree air felt like 9 or lower but it didn’t deter us all in taking part in Barack’s Inauguration. The excitement grew as we watched all the officials take their places on the Jumbotrons. When Jimmy Carter was announced, we all hooted and applauded, when George Sr. hobbled down with Barbara it was quiet, when Bill and Hill descended, more applause. Finally it was George W’s turn and the Mall erupted in one giant “BOO”. I can only imagine how he felt walking down those steps and hearing a large protion of the country, one last time, telling him how they felt about him. For one of the many voices booing him, it was so cathartic. Bush-bashing was witnessed during the Inauguaration celebrations around town. Many parties had piñatas with Bush’s face on it to smack around. One person even put a giant blow up Bush in Dupont Circle with a pile of shoes so you could throw a shoe at him. I was wearing my “Ding Dong the witch is dead” t-shirt with a picture of Bush as a melting witch. Subtle and individual.
Finally it was Barck’s turn to descend and as loud as we booed Bush, we cheered and applauded even louder for Obama. The air was electric. When he took the oath of office, we all went crazy, hugging, crying, dancing, hooting and hollering over this momentuous occasion. Many were in disbelief that it really happened. It all happened so quickly! As we all made our way up 18th Str. in an organized mass of happy Americans, there was a collective air of joy, people laughed and sang. No one pushed and shoved, no one yelled “Get out of my way”. Even the religious zealots with their signs saying “Obama cannot change anything, only Jesus” (try changing our economy JC) we jeered and laughed at. “Give it a rest for one day please” I yelled. We were polite and concerned about one another, all feeling that a new America has arrived. As Bush flew off in his helicopter we cheered and waved our shoes at him. The wicked witch had flown off and us here in Oz were joyful again.

Snow falling on Sunday

2009-01-18T07:23:00.000-08:00

Snow fall in Brooklyn on a Sunday morning. What better way to just stay inside all day and get much needed work done. Need to finish writing some English language tests before the day ends. Reminds me of one of those glorious winter Sundays in Astana where I did nothing. Nice to have one of those here in New York.
So I’ve gone back to teaching, almost full time these past two weeks. The teachers at the school I used to work at are dropping like flies with bad backs and viral infections. All due to the stress of the city-wide 4th grade English Language Arts (ELA) Test. They’re ill and I’ve got work—not bad. Let me tell you though, I don’t know how I taught full time for so many years. It really wears you down! How the hell did I ever do it? Actually being with one class all week is fun, you get to start and finish projects and help them out in ways the other teacher doesn’t. The pressure, however, that the 4th grade teachers are under to have the kids perform well on this test is ridiculous. Ergo they are all getting sick. A shame really that there’s so much pressure on them. Lots of teachers don’t want to teach 4th grade because of this test. A shame that a test determines how smart a kid is and pegs him/her for the rest of their school life. I say do away with them all and let kids learn and be assessed in other ways. I actually had to administer the 3-day ELA test this past week. No pressure on me. After 4 weeks of constant test prep, these kids are sick to death of doing it AND should know how to take the test. So if they fail it, it’s their own fault—I can’t help them out. I think they did alright though.
Speaking of education, I was offered a job teaching in Kurdistan of all places for 3 months. A friend of mine working over there suggested it to me. Mainly I’d be tutoring a rich man’s kids in English and providing after school activities, but there’d be time to do other things as well. He suggested I come over for the winter months since things are slow here in NYC. The money is good plus I could sublet my place. I was ready to say yes when I got a call from the vet. My 16 yr old cat Mama Suly went to get her teeth clean and they found a mass in the back of her mouth. The mass apparently is an aggressive form of cancer and the doctor gave her 3 months or so to live. So that put a kibosh on my plans to go overseas.
I knew that 2009 would be the year I start losing my cats and here it comes already so early in the year. At least I know ahead of time so I can prepare for it. The vet suggested, if I wanted, chemotherapy (chemo for a cat???) but I don’t want to put her or my pocketbook through that. Especially if it won’t prolong her life in a positive way. 16 years is a good long life for a cat and she’s had a great life. While she’s still eating and running around, I give her all the love she can have. The other 2 cats sense that something is up with her and they’re being extra nice to her too, washing her face, showing affection, snuggling with her more. I know that day will come when she gives me the look and I have to take her to the vet to put her down, That’ll be one of the hardest days of my life. 16 years of unconditional love is hard to beat. Until that day though, we are just loving her to bits.
The word everywhere in the world is Obama and I’m gearing up for the Inauguration in 2 days. I’ve decided that if I’m going to experience an inauguration in my lifetime, this is the one so tomorrow I’ll be heading down to DC with the rest of the country to see history in the making. I’ve already got two t-shirts designed for the occasion and can’t wait to don them in the capital. Bush already seems to be a nobody, upstaged by the man who has given us all hope and a reason to be proud of our country again. I hope I get a chance to throw my shoe at him before he leaves DC. We are poised for great things in this country and I’m excited to be part of the swearing in ceremonies.

Ceremonies

2009-01-12T06:46:00.000-08:00

11 January. 11 days already into 2009 and what have I done??? New year, new things to accomplish, new directions. But first there’s been a lot of ceremonial things to get out of the way. Always seems that way in January for me.
Pete’s annual New Year’s party was a blast. One of the best parties he’s thrown. Lots of new people, good food and music and best of all the fire pit out back. It was freezing ass cold that night but everyone brave the chilling wind to sit by the fire amid the lights from all our yards. The Aluminum Falcon (the name of Pete’s house) New Year’s ball was dropped at midnight—two hanging baskets wired together and covered with a flammable material. A fabulous spectacle and all I can say is thank God Pete’s deck is all steel. Otherwise we might have gone up in flames.
Ceremony 1: The first day of January is always greeted with woozy heads on our block. Part of the hangover cure for 1 January is to take part in the Polar Bear Plunge. This year was extremely cold and believe it or not everyone wussed out. Well that is everyone but me. So my friend Jonah and I drove down to Coney Island just in time for the 1 pm swim time. I stripped down to my bathing suit and jumped around in the cold with other plungers to keep warm. Jonah snapped pictures. At 1pm sharp I was in that water and out by 1:01. The icy water was refreshing but the wind was a killer. Usually I go in two times but it was too much this year and I pushed my way past the wall of photographers (3 people thick) and back to put on my clothes. Putting on clothes with numb hands is not fun but somehow I did it and was back in the warmth of the car very quickly. Have you ever had frozen hands? Well you know how painful it can be when they defrost. Ouch, ouch, ouch! When Eddie, my neighbor, found out he said “You are now the craziest bastard I know.” I took it as a compliment.
Ceremony 2: The annual Russian New Years Party on Brighton Beach. Usually this event is held around the 13th (Russian Old New Years by the Orthodox calendar) but this year we moved it to the 3rd to accommodate Bryn’s schedule. Now a resident of Moscow and a founding member of the tradition, she’s allowed to move the date to an earlier time. This is the 10th year of the tradition and apparently I’m the only one who has been to all 10 of them. This year was a good year; a table of 12, no one got too drunk, no scandals with the waiters about the tip. A good time had by all.
Ceremony 3: The Bernie Toomey Memorial Steak Dinner. My father was born on January 8th, got married on the 9th and died on the 10th. To honor the man, I got out for a fancy steak dinner to commemorate him. I used to take him out for a big steak dinner on his birthday so I like to continue the tradition. Get dressed up, put on his King’s Point class ring, invite some friends out to a steak house or dine in. This year, Elizabeth, Stuart and I memorialized over Porterhouse steak at the Old Homestead, one of the oldest steakhouses in Manhattan. Let me tell you that Porterhouse was amazing; tender, melt in your mouth—like buttah! People die and are mourned and sometimes forgotten by the living. I’m not a mourner, I’m a celebrator and like to remember my father in a happy way. Plus it gives me a reason to eat steak once a year.
Those are the big 3 ceremonies that happen annually and then there are the ones that pop up and need to be done. January always seems to be a death month for me. 2000-my dad, last year Chris, almost someone I know every January. 2009 started off on a tragic note for my Aunt Loretta in Troy, NY. Her oldest son Tom, my cousin, died accidentally on New Years Day. 47 years old. So last Sunday I drove up to Troy to sit with her and her family at the funeral home and greet all the mourners. Let me tell you I think I met all of Troy that day. He was quite the man about town. I never was really close to him or his sisters but I feel a bigger connection with my aunt—my father’s last living sibling. It doesn’t matter who I’m closer to, family is family and the dead need to be mourned. You rise to the occasion and do what needs to be done—ceremony.
January 6th, Three Kings Day/Russian Christmas Eve/12th Night, whatever you want to call it, was celebrated in grand style at Magalie’s. A delicious meal topped off with frangipan cake with a coin hidden inside. The one who gets the coin in his/her slice is crowned king/queen for the year. Frangipan cake isn’t the lightest and unfortunately no one got the coin during the first slice so we had to have another. Finally, Pasqual, Magalie’s cousin’s boyfriend, got the coin and was crowned king for the year. I like this tradition and wouldn’t mind making it an annual one at my place or amongst my friends. Since I’ll be busy during December with Christmas markets, starting celebrations from Christmas Eve onward seems more civilized. Plus with my light up wise men (Caspar and Balthazar-I’m missing Melchior) and giant star lighting up the backyard, it seems more fitting to celebrate the 12 days of Christmas which begin on the 25th anyway. It seemed apropos that on January 7th my fabulous light display in the backyard shorted out and for some reason I couldn’t get it to work again. I took it as a sign Christmas was over.
Prior to the snowstorm of last Saturday, I de-Christmased my house. Pine boughs off the window sills, lights out of the yard, Christmas tree off to Greenwood Cemetery for recycling. I nearly took out two Jehova Witnesses as I shoved my dried up tree out the 2nd floor window onto the street below. Since it was by the wondow, why get needles all over the place? So I shoved it out the window. How funny would that have been to have two Jehova’s injured by a symbol of a holiday that they don’t celebrate (well, they don’t celebrate anything).
Life without ceremonies and traditions must be dull. They give us structure throughout the year and always a reason to look forward to something. Plus, how boring is life without celebrations? Even if they are occasionally on a sad note. They make us more human and closer to one another. Now that my January ceremonies are complete, I can get busy. There is still a big ceremony at the end of the month, the Chris memorial in San Diego, but until then I’ve got two weeks to get things done. Oh wait, there’s the Inauguration which I plan to attend. Ceremonies, ceremonies, ceremonies!! I guess they never end (and that’s a good thing). Celebrate!!
NB: Tom’s Film Recommendations:
Slumdog Millionaire, Frost/Nixon, The Reader, Milk,
Fuhgetaboutits: Rachel Getting Married

Happy New Year!

2008-12-31T06:10:00.000-08:00

The last day of 2008. Before midnight strikes, I’m going to have a clean house, rid my kitchen of the on-going bug problem andhave my hallway clean of debris. Let’s see how far I get with all of this. The promised snow storm is just beginning so that’ll keep me inside for most of the day and I can get it all done.
Reflecting on the last year, I can say I’m glad it’s over and hope that 2009 is everything that we are all expecting it to be. A better economic climate, a fabulous new president that’ll follow through on his promises, personal happiness (define it yourself). I’ve already made a list of things I want to accomplish in 2009, some typical (like join a gym and get on a regular exercise regime) and some not so typical (meet the Queen of England). Already January is filled up with things to do and I look forward to lots of home projects in the dead of winter.
So as we lift our glasses at midnight tonight (wherever that may be) let’s forget the old year and all its troubles and greet the new one with open hearts and high hopes. Things are pretty dire presently so they can only get better right? Happy New Year yáll!

Auld Lang Syne
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind ?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days o' lang syne ?
CHORUS:
For auld lang syne, my jo,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
And surely ye’ll be your pint-stowp !
And surely I’ll be mine !
And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
CHORUS
We twa hae run about the braes,
And pu’d the gowans fine ;
But we’ve wander’d mony a weary foot,
Sin auld lang syne.
CHORUS
We twa hae paidl’d i' the burn,
Frae morning sun till dine ;
But seas between us braid hae roar’d
Sin auld lang syne.
CHORUS
And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere !
And gie's a hand o’ thine !
And we’ll tak a right gude-willy waught,
For auld lang syne.
CHORUS

2008-12-27T07:17:00.000-08:00

December 27, 2008: 3 days after the Columbus Circle Holiday Market, 2 days after Christmas, 4 days before New Years. The market ended on a muddy note, our last day of sales marked by pouring rain and lots of mud. When it was time to start packing up, the rain cleared and the people came out. Little did they know the market was over, many seemed surprised that it was the last day of a Christmas market (no duh!). I made two trips back to Brooklyn with all our stuff and was relieved when it was all over. In the end I can’t say I made a profit but I did break even. Times are tough and people second thought every purchase they made this holiday season. Sure there were those that just grabbed and threw their credit card at you but they were not as often as usual. It was what it was. You can’t force people to buy things and there’s only so much hustle one can do. I wasn’t expecting to make a profit, but just hoped to break even and I did. I may have made a bit of a profit but need to sit down and go over my books to see the real numbers. It was sad to end the market, in the three weeks we had made friends on our little corner and become a little family. We exchanged numbers and emails and pledged to stay in touch. I’m sure we’ll all meet again next year or at some markets or fairs in between. The final day there was a lot of last minute bartering and bargaining among the vendors. All the things we’ve been eyeing from each other these past weeks, we pounced on them the last day (if they were still there) as per tradition. That’s the way things go at these markets. If it doesn’t sell then a fellow vendor gets it for a deal. Ozlem, my Turkish glass selling neighbor, got me a great deal on a Turkish lamp from another vendor. Can’t wait to put it up in my living room. Glass, t-shirts, jewelry, pajamas; everything was flying around the last minutes of the market. By the time I got home, all muddy and wet, I was exhausted. But there was a Christmas Eve party to attend at Magalie’s and I was ready to finally celebrate the holidays.
One would think that after three weeks of Christmas all I would want to do is take a shower and go to bed. No not I dear readers. It was time for me to finally relax and enjoy the holiday season. It’s easy to get sick of Christmas by the 25th when it’s shoved down your throat from Thanksgiving on but no this year for me. I was happy to get all dressed up and head down to Magalie’s for a traditional Xmas eve Feast of the Seven Fishes. Ellen and Tim were in town from Florida and helped spearhead this festive meal. So after all the work, it was nice to celebrate with good friends. All in all there were 15 of us. I brought table cloths and an extra table so we’d all fit. After unloading the car and taking a shower, I had a cup of tea and wrapped some gifts to unwind from my crazy day. Around 8:00, I got festively dressed, wearing my Xmas t-shirt (a picture of me and my brothers on Santa’s lap when we were so young), my pimp hat and my new green scarf with the poinsettia and holly on it. Of course I caused quite a sensation upon entering, cameras clacking away and a tall glass of champagne being place in my hand. Let the holidays begin! I declared (and they did). The meal was to die for and every dish was almost as good as the previous one. The cod, the squid, the ceviche, the lobster and shrimp risotto-yum yum yum! By 1 am I was driving home well sated and ready for bed in my new robot flannel pjs from Maruska. As the lights blazed away on the front of the house, I slept soundly, with the three cats snuggled next to me. Finally I could rest.
Christmas Day came with a beautiful clear sky and lovely weather. “Can you believe this weather?” Maruska asked me, as if to say “if only this was yesterday, how much money we would have made.” “But it was what it was and it’s over”, I responded. Plus there were rounds of visits to make and friends to see after 3 weeks of neglection. Eddie came over to exchange gifts with me. He loved the Mohawk hat I gave him—got a big kick out of it. I got some hot sauce and a nice sweater from him. Love my sweaters I do. Drove over to Irena and Susan’s for a visit with them and their boys. I got the boys flannel robot pjs which they liked. Well I think they did, they were busy showing me all their toys they got. My meal plans for the day were spending the day with Eric, one of my oldest and dearest friends. I decided to make tamales, a Mexican tradition on Christmas. It was the perfect meal because you can socialize and prepare all at the same time. I had Eric on salad duty and I was busy making the masa and filling (vegetarian for his sake). In the meanwhile, we uncorked some Veuve Cliqot and caught up on things. After putting the tamales in to steam, we headed out back to decorate the backyard with lights. Eddie started the whole thing by putting up lights in his backyard, so I figured I would do the same. Well a homo with lights can’t do anything simple. I put my two wise men, and an inverted tomato cage with green lights wrapped on it to resemble a Christmas tree up on my pergola and lined the fences with lights to follow Eddie’s lead. It looked fabulous. Eddie all the while was yelling out the wind how great it all looked and that we we’re going to have a “Guinea War”—meaning try to out do each other with lights as the Italians like to do apparently. I told him to bring it on, and with that, I made a big star out of sticks, wrapped it with lights and fastened it to the clothes line structure in the back as well as wrapped the ladder like structure with lights. Eddie, all the while sitting and watching from the 3rd floor window telling me he had 911 on speed dial just in case I fell. Some have asked if I’m a little late with the lights but no. The 25th marks the beginning of the 12 days of Christmas so I’m not late at all. Plus the big star appeared on the 25th and the wise men started their journey only then, so it’s fitting that it all happened on the 25th/26th. Pete and all with flip when they see what I’ve done to the yard. It’ll enhance things for the New Year’s party next week.
Christmas Day ended on a rather sad note with the news of Eartha Kitt’s passing. Eric and I are fabled Kitt fans and have seen her many a time in various venues here in NYC. So the news put a somber tone on the festivities. Oh well, 81 is a ripe old age but I’m sure she had more in her to give if colon cancer hadn’t have gotten her. I do a mean Eartha imitation so maybe it’s time for me to start my cabaret career. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!
I’m enjoying sleeping long hours and not having to get up and go somewhere. Now is a time for unpoacking, cleaning and organizing, getting caught up with other work and sifting through the mess called my desk. Today I start that task as well as make the laundry list of things to do between now and the end of January. Lots to accomplish between now and then. Now let’s get busy.

A Snowy Sunday Morning

2008-12-21T04:03:00.000-08:00

A snowy Sunday morning, reminiscent of my winter in Kazakhstan 2 yrs ago. I love those times when I wake up early for no reason and just go with the moment, taking advantage of the extra hour or so to get things done in the quiet of predawn. Suly is on my shoulder, purring in my ear, awaiting the time when I feed them their breakfast. For now, let them wait, I want to blog.
So here we are at the end of the Xmas market road. The final stretch. The weather has put a bit of a damper on us the past few days but still, money is being made. I probably won’t come out with a big profit, but I’ll have paid back my space and most of my investment. Would I do it again? Sure! The amount of fun I had doing it was priceless. Plus the new friends I’ve made is great too. I look forward to January as a time of organizing the mess that is my office, book work and house and figuring out what to do next for this business. Would like to get the book going and actually published this next year. But that’s all after the holiday festivities.
We had a lovely snow at the market on Friday which covered us in w hite and brought out the crowds. Unfortunately it turned to rain and sleet by the end of the day, yuck! Still we reveled in the moment, shoveling snow and making snowmen. One of the vendors actually tried to sell one as a handcrafted item. Believe it or not someone actually wanted to buy it!?!? Our corner of the market behind the Monument to the victims of the USS Maine bombing is like the center of activity at the market. We have tables and chairs set up for people to sit and rest between shopping, have a coffee or cigarette and take it all in. We call it the “husband area” for it’s a great place for the men to sit while their wives shop. Our lane is like a Parisian boulevard, where shoppers can stroll and shop. Our booth is at the corner which makes it like a Spanish plaza where people congregate. Besides Oktay and Ozlem selling their glass, there’s Susan selling her belts and scarves. We know her from other markets. She has a big mirror behind her and we always get a giggle when she’s caught checking herself out or applying lipstick. She’s been getting annoyed at people using her mirror for the same purposes but whaddyagonnado. We all took umbrage at the young couple who stood in front of it and made out, looking at themselves the whole time. The plaza (i.e. all us vendors) gave out a loud “EW GROSS!” and they scurried away. On the corner are the two cute Tajik boys selling animal pillows (I broke down and bought them for my niece and nephew for Xmas). When I asked where they were from, they hesitated to say what Central Asian country they were from. But I pushed them on and they finally said “You’ve never heard of it, it’s called Tajikistan.” To which I roared with laughter and told them I only spent all last summer there. Since then we have become good buddies. Lots of Turks at this market and I’ve wowed them with my stories of traveling all over their country. It’s interesting to find how reticent they are to divulge information about themselves mainly because their experience has been that few Americans know where they are from or have ever been to their countries. Well that ain’t the case with yours truly!
Being in a Christmas market, I actually have gotten swept up in the Christmas spirit and went around buying gifts for my family (well my nieces and nephews). There’s too many cool things to be had here. The puppet guy, Aaron, got most of my money I must say. Sending it to California in time for Xmas was almost as the gifts themselves but hey they’re worth it. I thought by the end of this market I’d be down on Christmas but I’m not. It’s actually helped me get in the mood more. I’ve even had time to decorate my house and have my annual 255A 23rd Str house party. As usual my tenants and neighbors gather for a luscious meal in the living room around the tree before we scatter for Xmas. This year I decided to make a goose since I’ve never made one before. Given the price of it, I made sure to follow directions very carefully so I didn’t over cook it. Despite the greasiness of the bird, it came out rather well. Hey the revelers in my living room enjoyed it and there weren’t many leftovers. There’s a lot of fat left over which is supposed to be good to cook with which is in the back of my refrigerator for another day.I didn’t boil up the bones for broth for with this kind of bird I think all you’d get is more fat.
The visitors to the booth have been many and as per tradition we take their picture. My cousin Lisa of the Hamptons made a visit which was a great surprise. My most anticipated visit of last week though was from Milo and Cycy. They are my friends Nina and Sally’s boys who moved from New York a year ago to Geneva. I miss these two kids a lot and it was great to see them. Besides the celebrities of mine and Marushka’s life there has been a few actual celebrities spotted going by our booth: Liev Schreiber, Mira Sorvino and James Gandolfini. Still waiting for the big ones to come out in the next few days but we’ll see. The friends who stop by for a photo op and give us encouragement is much better than any movie star (although I’d love to have Meryl visit). When they spend money, it’s even better!

Ho Ho Ho from Columbus Circle

2008-12-20T04:13:00.000-08:00

Coming to you live from the Columbus Circle Holiday Market!! We’re already at the end of our second week at this three week market and things are going well. Not only are sales good but we’re making friends left and right in our little corner of the market. Right now Oktay, my Turkish neighbor who sells glass ware, is chilling in my booth while his sister Ozlum argues with him from outside. It’s a slow Tuesday but a fine snow is coming down which is bringing the people out (and hopefully putting them in a shopping mood). Marushka took the day off to rid herself of a cold. I am left alone to man the booth for the day. No big deal there’enough activity here to keep me occupied.
Despite a lousy world economy, people are still shopping for the holidays. Lots of people from all over the world stop in to buy t-shirts and pj’s for their kids. Bad
economy or not, children always need clothing. Texas, England, Mississippi, Ireland to name a few. One of the things Maruska and I do to entertain ourselves is to keep a tally of all the different places people visit from. Another thing is to photograph all our friends who come by to visit us on a daily basis. So far we have had many friends pose in our booth. Marshall started the tradition and other friends (both mine and Marushka’s) have been immortalized in celluloid in our booth. We have to keep things exciting and fresh at the market.
As Christmas gets nearer, we sell more and more. I have a few things already sold out. My Lion shirts have been a huge success and I’m already done with them. I’ve started a new line of pillows and plush cats and owls which have been going like hotcakes too. I’m sure the closer we get to the big day, the crazier people will get and they’ll just throw money at us. Well that’s what the guys who run the market say. I’ll let you know how it all ends up.

Pearl Harbor Day

2008-12-11T04:41:00.001-08:00

Everybody has a Pearl Harbor Day. A day when their life suddenly takes a dramatic turn for better or worse. My Pearl Harbor Day came around this time 20 years ago. I don’t recall the exact day but it was around the 7th. My life changed on that day back in San Francisco, at a health clinic off the Castro when some mousey little woman uttered 5 words: “Your results came back positive.” She was small with a big head on which sat a mop of brown hair. It seemed like I was the first person she ever had to give the grim news to. Back then, getting the news that you’re HIV + was like a death sentence, so I could understand her nervousness. I looked in disbelief at her, looked at the status next to my number on the page, making sure she had the right number. This couldn’t happen to me, not at 24yrs of age. I wasn’t sleeping around with everyone, I was safe, wasn’t I? The room was quiet but full of Miss Mousey’s nervousness. She looked at me, trying to look sympathetic and caring, but it didn’t work for me. I felt like she was about to cry, that she would act out all the emotions I was supposed to be feeling. My mind was racing, “Who was it? Who infected me? I don’t believe her. I want another test. Was it the Brit? Was it the one from the Phoenix? Who was it? What am I going to do?” She was talking to me about lots of things but I wasn’t really listening. There were no treatments or drug regimes back then, you had to stay healthy your own way for as long as you could. “What should I do?” I asked her. “Find a job with good health benefits.” was her response. I looked at her like she was crazy and set up an appointment for another test. I didn’t believe her (Tom In Denial Part 1).
The head tries to rationalize and deny things but the heart knows the truth. On my way back up the hill on my bike to the Haight, my mind was denying it all, dismissing this inexperienced, mousey little woman with the bad news, but my heart was saying “Tom Toomey this is some serious shit you got to deal with.” Cars whizzed by me as The Eurythmics’ “Missionary Man” album played in my ears. I rode straight up one of the steep streets, taking the shortcut that would spit me out by Buena Vista Park. Furiously I rode without stopping as if to say to myself I’m going to beat this disease, it’s not going to kill me. At the top, out of breath I stopped to sit on the bench, looking out at the city lights, and I cried. Finally, the heart’s honesty won over the brain’s rationality. Then and there on that little bench I made a pact with myself that this disease was not going to get me, I was going to win. I was going to stay positive psychologically, be healthy, love my family and friends and take as much out of life before I left this planet. With that said, I got on my bike and pedaled home.
The second test came out positive too (Tom In Denial Part 2), as did the third (Tom Faces Reality Finally). By spring of 1989 I had come to terms with my fate. The doctors said back then that most people live an average of 10 years with the virus before getting sick and dying. Hmm, 24 (my age then) + 10= 34. Add 6 yrs for the optimist and you get 40. I’d live to be 40. There, I had a goal and a whole lot of things to do. It was time to get busy. I could have stayed in San Francisco, settled down, moved back to San Diego to be near my family, but I wasn’t sick or dying like so many others around me. I could have started a nasty regime of AZT, a potent drug that seemed to do more harm than good. Doctors sounded like they knew all the answers but they didn’t. Instead I moved to Russia. A crazy move granted for someone in my position but I was not about to sit around in some job with good health benefits. I had to do what made me happy for if I was doing things I enjoyed, I would be positive in my mind and healthy in my body (and I was more or less).
To think that was 20 years ago and here I sit in the kitchen of my house in Brooklyn. I’m now 4 years past the expiration date. Not many back then made it this far so I consider myself vey fortunate. For so many years I’ve lived with an end in sight. Now, with modern medicine, I’m going to live longer than expected which can be quite burdensome at times. But I don’t let it get me down or contemplate suicide—there’s more that interests me and corners of the world I haven’t explored yet. If I can wake up with the sun on my face and joy in my heart then the rest is easy.
So I guess my point of writing all this is partially pride (yes I’m proud of myself that I’ve made it thus far) and to tell you my Pearl Harbor Day story. Everyone has a Pearl Harbor Day and the main point of it is not that you have one but how you react and face the challenge. Nothing is forever and you never know when it will be taken away, so enjoy it while you can. (It=life, loved ones, house, whatever). Don’t sit around feeling sorry for yourself, complain about the small stuff or take things for granted. Embrace the simple joys in life, love your family and friends, for in the end all that big stuff really doesn’t matter. Carpe diem babies!

The Columbus Circle Holiday Market

2008-12-05T05:37:00.000-08:00

My cat Felix has a very interesting way of waking me up—by peeing on the pillow next to me. I don’t know what the fuck is up with that cat recently but he’s been peeing on my bed all last week and now again this morning. Is he trying to tell me something (like please kick me out of the house so I can live on the street) or just his way of saying clean the litter box. Well the box was a little full but does he have to go to those extremes? Anyway that cat has a crazy ass way of getting attention. All it got him was a swat and a boot into the hall.
So anyway, I’m up an hour earlier than I had planned which is fine for I can get you all caught up on the swirl of activity in my life since last writing. The Columbus Circle Holiday Market. The Columbus Circle Holiday Market. The Columbus Circle Holiday Market! Those are the five words that are my mantra as of December 1st (and since last writing). I’m at a realio-trulio market this year and it’s very exciting. Along with about another hundred vendors, Marushka (my business partner) and I have opened our fabulously colourful booth of children’s clothing for the masses to buy this Christmas. We’ve spent a lot of time planning out the booth and it shows. I must say it’s one of the best looking booths at the market. We’ve only been open 2 days but sales have been pretty good so far and I think they’ll just get better. There’s a lot of foot traffic so that’ll help. Much better than that dreadful Underground Market we did last year.
What I love most about doing this market is being able to engage with people. All day you’re meeting new people, getting to know the other vendors and having a good time. Lots of the vendors I already know so it’s good to catch up with them. Plus get to meet new ones. Marushka and I have got to know the Turkish brother and sister selling glass ware from Turkey across the way, Otchai and Ozlem, who are really lovely. It makes such a difference when you have good neighbors at the market. There’s Susan, the crazy belt lady, Jensen and her amazing scarves and hats, John and all his gadgets, Sean selling kids sweaters and robes and so many more. Makes going to work so much fun. If you’re reading this blog and just happen to be in NYC, stop by for a visit. We’re just behind the fountain and will be there until Christmas Eve.
Since last writing I have been furiously preparing for this market. At Christmas I like to get a little crafty besides the t-shirts. Of course there’s the Diva Kitties, my little stuffed cat dolls with feather boas and attitude and this year I’m doing some pillows with interesting appliqué work. I like to see it as collage with material—using different fabrics with interesting textures and prints to make art on a pillow. Presently my living room looks like a fabric store threw up in it with material all over the place and scraps littering the floor. Hopefully by next week I’ll be done with all of this and be able to put my Christmas tree up.
Sewing for hours can be a dull and tedious experience but I look at it as a time to get caught up on some movies. Now would be a good time to join Netflix but instead I just go down to Blockbuster or raid Pete’s or Liz’s collections. I can tell you all that I have seen a lot of movies in the past two weeks. Seen all the Indiana Jones films and about 20 more. Some terrible, some great, some just a nice visual to pass the time while sewing. One of my favorites was “Beyond The Sea”, Kevin Spacey’s biopic about Bobby Darin. Great movie, very entertaining, highly recommend it. It was so good I watched it twice. Just watched the last of my movies, “The Bucket List” (just OK) and need to go down to Blockbuster to replenish my stock. Maybe I’ll see what new films Liz has downloaded, she always has some of the latest films. Besides DVDs I did get to a film in a movie theater last week with my dear friend Elizabeth (recently seen in Cambodia with me). She’s moved to NYC for work and we met up last week for some dinner and a movie, one you should all run out and see when it gets to your city—“Milk”. What a great movie! Took me back to my days in San Francisco when being gay meant something and there was a sense of community and pride. Sean Pen did an excellent job portraying Harvey Milk and Gus Van Sant (the director) really brought the spirit of the times to the film. Interesting to see how far we’ve come since those days and so far we’ve regressed as well. Back then it was Anita Bryant leading the campaign to keep gays out of the schools, now they’re trying to keep us from getting married. Ignorant people never go away and us gays always need something to fight for. Maybe this film will empower us to be more active.
Felix has been banished to the hallway for a while and his time is almost up. Plus the laundromat will open in 5 minutes and I’d like to do laundry before going off to work. Might as well get that cat piss off my sheets now. Oh what a crazy world this is. Look out for my next blog entery, entitled “Pearl Harbour Day”. It’ll be one of deep reflection and soul revealing. Til then “The Columbus Circle Holiday Market” is my mantra (and should be yours).