Yahoo! A Semblance of Normalcy!

 A Sprinkling of Flour Makes the World a Better Place

When we heard that the "powers that be" had given a thumbs up to Carnaval we could hardly contain ourselves.  No Independence Day, No Day of the Dead, No Charros, no Semana Santa (Easter) no Nothing for almost two years had reduced the Village to a No Fun Place.  But now, we could begin to see an end to hibernation, isolation and all the other "tions" (think deprivation, desolation, alienation etc.) that we had endured.  Usually we have a day parade which is pretty outrageous followed by a night parade which is totally outrageous but "the powers that be" decided the night time  parade could easily get more out of hand than usual so we could only have the daytime parade but we were all so starved for a parade that it was cool.

Faithful readers may remember that Carnaval involves the Sayacas.  These are men dressed as women (very well endowed women) who run through the cobblestone streets (wearing heels often) during the parade chasing young boys and throwing flour on them. And anyone.  Now there are many rationales for this (well rationality has little to do with it) but you will have to go back to previous Easter time blogs to get the full run-down on how this tradition evolved.  Because it's complicated and contradictory. On parade day we positioned ourselves strategically to view the event and left totally encased in flour with Michael cradling his camera (they take no prisoners) to his bosom protectively.  Photos reveal just half the mayhem.

Some of the Sayacas at Carnival in these photos.

A victim being pulled from the crowd to be flour-bombed & dragged to the truck.

 

Even El Presidente de Municipio (Mayor) is not immune from the flour from the Sayacas.

The floats can hold more flour and throw it liberally on the bystanders.

Some floats do not throw flour...

such as the kid's float...

with this very cute kid clown.

This Moulin Rouge float was a flour throwing float.

The Queen of the Carnival.

A float from the San Sebastian barrio.

This was a "swinging" Sayaca.

Even the youngest ones are not immune from being covered in flour & confetti.

Jalisco being a horse culture, horses are always a part of the parades...

with even the very young participating.

After the parade the caballeros gathered by the lake at the Malecon.

Time for a Hit of California

Where it is so easy to take a hit..... We noticed that the smoke shop down the street from Justin's (it's like pizza shops in New England -- read everywhere) had erased the sign on the side of their building that said Ice Cream.  I had thought it odd that a weed store would sell ice cream but Justin indulgently told me that they infused weed into the ice cream.  I was baffled as to how that would happen. Moreover, I worried that children would fall to the ground screaming for ice cream when they saw that big enticing cone on the side wall and their parents would then have to give the 3 year olds their first "Just Say No" lecture.  Justin pooh-poohed me then but the sign is gone so I think I was right.

We try to land in LA or have Justin land in Ajijic every few months so it was a good time to make a little visit.  Beyond the joy of seeing the eldest, we could get our second booster shot for Covid -- what fun!  We did have a great time with Justin and the booster was ....well, we're getting used to them.  Injection.  Michael fine.  Deirdre sleeps the sleep of the dead for 18 hours.  Not too bad. Once I revived we had a lunch with our friends of decades Tim and Jane and then got ready to hit the road again.  Since Justin has a job (being not yet retired at 35 - the slacker) Michael and I tend to wander during throughout the week while he toils.  This time we headed North up the incredibly, excruciatingly boring highway (the 5) through the Central Valley to Palo Alto and surrounding countryside.  The Central Valley is boring but one can see how it feeds the nation.

Awash in Technology  

Having survived that, we ended up at Michael's cousins in Palo Alto -- Jim and Judy.  Part of the semi-vast Fowler Clan whom we will meet up with in toto in July, Jim and Judy are interesting, fun folk and Jim cooked us an amazing dinner and we caught up on all the various activities of the clan.  We followed that up with breakfast the next day where Judy and Jim met Michael's friend from the seminary (yes, he was in one until puberty hit) Chris Reynolds.  What I love is when people meet and, through just a seemingly  random exchange of experiences, realize that their lives or beliefs have intersected in a totally unexpected way.  In this case, Chris happened to mention that he had been involved in a fundraiser that produced a lot of money that was ultimately donated to Fanny Lou Hamer's charity.  She founded the Freedom Farm Cooperative and used the donated money to buy 640 acres of land in Mississippi. She granted half of the land to poor blacks and half to poor whites and helped  heal decades of racial strife there by doing so.  She was a pivotal figure in the Civil Rights Movement. If you google her you'll be impressed.  Cousin Jim said that she was one of his all-time heroes and, if he could find a picture of her,  he would hang it on the wall in his house.  Two very different guys, coming from very different places, finding a bridge of commonality.  It was fun to listen to and watch.

A Day with Chris

This man has energy.  He had sent us an extensive list of possible adventures we could enjoy with him.  Among them was one where we could hike over sand dunes for a mile and a half and see elephant seals mating (really? that's an option?) or we could do some more sedate things.  Let's go sedate.  I had never seen the Stanford Campus and what a campus it is. Chris had volunteered as a tour guide for Asian students applying to  UC San Diego (of course he speaks Japanese) and thus had the whole story of Stanford down pat, as it was part of the tour.  My favorite story was about Mrs. Stanford (huge money from railroads).  Their only child (son)  had gone to Harvard. He died.  They went to the head of Harvard and said they would like to erect a statue in his honor at Harvard and, of course, would cover the cost.  The President went on at great length about how that would be impossible and if he granted their wish every Tom, Dick and Harry (not his words) would want a statue and where would THAT leave them.  He went on to say that they couldn't know that "a university such as Harvard would cost at least $12 million for Goodness Sakes".  She turned to her husband and said, "That's all?"  And Stanford was born.  She also insisted that it be coed.  You go girl! 

Just some of the many Rodin sculptures on the Stanford campus.

The arches lead to the Memorial Court where there are more Rodin statues.

These are just two examples of the intricate mosaics on one of the buildings created by imported Italian artisans.

The Memorial Church building commenced in 1899 and was completed in 1902. "Memorial Church erected by Jane Lathrop Stanford to The Glory of God and in Loving memory of Leland Stanford.

The Church was partially destroyed in 1906 and was restored in 1913.

We were fortunate to be touring when many of the trees were flowering.

The Hoover Tower.

The Rodin statues at Memorial Court.

Another view of Memorial Court.

A fountain on the Stanford Campus.

After our tour and a luncheon at Bucks Restaurant in Woodside we headed off to tour the headquarters of major tech giants.  But first, Bucks.  Bucks has probably seen more high dollar venture deals done within its walls than any other single entity in the Bay Area.  The interior does not reflect the seriousness of these deals as you can see.  But on to Google and Apple and SLAC (Stanford Linear Accelerator Laboratory).  The sheer size of both Google and Apple makes one understand how the world is in their grasp -- for good and evil.  Paranoid to protect their technologies you are not allowed in most areas of either company's campuses.  But, putting on our best doddering, harmless old people looks and with a gigantic camera hanging from Michael's neck we roamed  at will.  Until one uber conscientious guard came up to us and gently steered us senile, old spies off the campus.  We did stand out in that we were the oldest people on either campus by approximate 50 years.  It is scary.   OK.  SLAC.  We didn't get to go in it but suffice it to say that it is impressive.  It runs for 2 continuous miles.  Within the building is the accelerator which, they tell me, has contributed greatly to the understanding (not MY understanding) of particle physics and now they are doing some nifty Xray stuff that I also don't understand.  By this point we were fairly beat but Chris was still going strong.

The eclectic interior of Bucks restaurant.

The Apple "Spaceship" Building. On the far right you can see how the building curves around. The 2.8 million square foot building is a circle with curved glass. 

The Google Androids.

Google had some beautiful flower gardens with irises and poppies-- also lettuce and, of course, kale.

The very prominent Google logo at the "Googleplex".

One of Google's newest buildings at the Googleplex with the roof covered with solar panels.

Another of the many buildings at the Googleplex.

One of the many buses picking up Google employees at the Googleplex.

Deirdre & Michael with the "Googlesaurus". Photo courtesy of Chris Reynolds.

The "Googlesaurus"

A sleeping duck in a small stream that runs through the campus.

Onward to drinks at Chris' house and to meet his wife Peggy.  Chris had told us his house was not reachable by GPS.  We were dubious.  We had read in the Times that his town, Woodside, had petitioned to have the entire town declared a Mountain Lion Reserve.  Also dubious-- with a dash of NIMBY thrown in.  And then we started the drive up the Mountain.  And we became believers.  Not only that GPS couldn't plot it but that Mountain Lions, and perhaps even Yetis, could be abundant there.  Giant Redwoods, circuitous roads with stunning views -- and all within a few miles of Palo Alto.  After a drink and a viewing of Peggy's astounding mineral collection we headed back down to earth to venture to Half Moon Bay for a terrific dinner.  And then we collapsed at the motel.  A great day with truly interesting people.

Some of the magnificent redwoods at Woodside.

 

Half Moon Bay at sunset.

Back Down the 5 (Yawn) 

And back down we go.  Hard to believe, but almond trees look exactly the same if you are going North or South -- and they are drinking up the same, copious amount of precious water in either direction as well. But I don't want to be a climate nag.  Yeah, I do.   So, we returned to Justin and the condo to find that the HVAC system had quit so that had to be dealt with. Of course, expensively.  It is truly amazing how when you live in Mexico for a while you become totally outraged  by American prices.  We won't even go in the direction of the HVAC cost but the labor (JUST the labor) to install two faucets was $360.  And that was the low bid.  

Having battled the freeways and the freebooters masquerading as tradesmen we decided we needed a dose of nature and would go for a hike in Temescal Park which is in Pacific Palisades.  The number of parks in LA is impressive and we have yet to visit them all. We learned that this park was the Western component of the Chautauqua movement which is still going strong in New York State.  I believe the group was founded by Methodists but was quite secular in nature.  Each summer tent "cities" would be erected in East and West and lectures would be given on a broad variety of topics.  Even today, many people faithfully go each summer to spend a week of two in Chautauqua for a little mental stimulation.  I don't know why the Western version petered out but many of the cabins and the amphitheater still exist in the park.  

It was a pretty hot day but we figured with water we'd be fine.  My mistake was in allowing Michael to pick the hiking route.  He chose the Ridge Trail which should have been a clue.  Up we climbed, and climbed, still climbing.  There were no old people on this trail.  Only buff, twenty-somethings wearing no shirts and sort of jogging up the nearly vertical trail.  Finally, seriously out of breath I asked a couple "Are we almost at the top?"  The man smiled indulgently and said, "No, no, no.  You are only beginning.  You should really turn around right now."  Don't need to tell me twice.  Back we went and on to another trail until another helpful hiker coming in the opposite direction said, "Oh, be careful up there.  We saw some rattlesnakes.  Just watch the path."  Nope, end of hike for Deirdre (Phobia #2).  I sat on a bench, staring warily around my feet for reptiles and contented myself with making friends with passing hikers-- many of whom also assured me that they had seen rattlesnakes.  Michael survived his adventure down Rattlesnake Lane. 

In the canyon there was a large cactus about to bloom.

This flowering tree was absolutely magnificent. Maybe one of you blog fans can identify the type of tree from the flowers below.

Some of the cabins going back to the "Chautauqua" days which can be rented today.

On entering the park we encountered this group of French people who brought copious amounts of wine and food to enjoy the outdoors and have a picnic.

 

On to lunch in Pacific Palisades. Threading our way through Aston Martins, Lamborghinis, Ferraris  and Bentleys in our Ford Fiesta we managed to snag a parking space and sauntered up the Avenue to select a restaurant.  While strolling we noted how all very rich town centers basically have come to look the same.  Kind of like malls.  Each mall, one could argue, is a bit different but basically they are all the same.  So too with rich towns.  Lululemon, Sothebys, Gucci, Versace....I don't have to do a roll call.  You know what I mean.  They used to be somewhat more distinctive -- a Greenwich was not a Carmel-- but that homogenization is now almost complete.  I shall not shed crocodile tears for the suffering of the upper crust. However, the WASP in me thinks it is a bit of a shame.

An Aston Martin parked on the street in Pacific Palisades.

A Happy Passover greeting.

The typical wealthy town street scene.

A denizen of Pacific Palisades entering the vast Lululemon.

Going to Surf City, Gonna Have Some... 

Cheesy souvenirs.  I have a certain respect for an entity that can take a marketing tag and run with it but Huntington Beach has really set the standard.  Surf City is screamed from every building, pier, storefront and even the sidewalks have "Hall of Surf Fame" names imbedded.  We had enjoyed a tasty brunch at Sandy's Surf Shack which was effectively ruined by my seeing my first "You Go Brandon" sweatshirt on a woman who looked exactly like she should be wearing a "You Go Brandon" sweatshirt.  When I gasped in horror, Justin turned to me and said, "Mom, get a grip.  We're in Orange County.  You have to expect things like that." Hmmph.  As Michael and I people watched while Justin roamed a couple of vintage stores we were surprised to see the large number of people who were obviously tourists who had specifically come to see "Surf City" and buy any number of truly horrific souvenirs. Beach Boys you have no idea what you unleashed.

The beach with an offshore oil platform.

A tile mural by the beach.

Jacks Surf Shop on the corner of the main drag.

The Huntington Beach pier.

And Back to Ajijic-- Briefly

So, back home we went just in time for Semana Santa -- the Mexican two week long celebration of Easter.  This is bigger (and in the second week far rowdier) than any other fiesta.  We'll be off again on April 21 for a month in Spain and France assuming we can figure out the Covid forms and other conflicting requirements and information that we are coming across.  We hope you all enjoy a beautiful spring and we shall be writing of our adventures as we go.  Take care all.