Friday, June 13, 2008

The Ragfields in San Francisco (Day 5 and 6)

Day 5 (Thursday 12 June)
In the morning Rob got up early again for a bike ride, and since I was up already, I attempted to run in this city for the first time. I ran up to Fisherman’s Wharf and back, about 4 miles I would estimate. One of the streets I came back on had such a steep hill (it was actually Nob Hill), that the sidewalk was a staircase. It was also a little frustrating because the whole way, I would run about 30 seconds, then get stopped at a stoplight for 30 seconds.

Laura and I met for breakfast after my run. Due to some unfortunate room complications on their first night, Laura and her husband were given complimentary breakfast passes to the swanky VIP lounge for the rest of the week. The guys get breakfast at the conference, so Laura took me as her guest. Very nice, but I am way out of my league here.

After intensive research, Laura and I figured out that there was a bus (actually we found out later it was a train) that would take us directly to the San Francisco Zoo from the big bus/train/subway station just a few blocks away at Union Station. Once we figured out that the L was a train rather than a bus and that we had to go underground to catch it, it was no problem and we zoomed to the zoo.

We wandered the zoo for a good chunk of the day. First we saw some giraffes and then some gorillas and then moved on to the rest of the primates. Laura loves zoos; in fact, she used to work at a zoo, and she knows a lot about many of the animals. I try to get excited about zoos, but really they just make me very, very sad. Even good zoos are still zoos. Animals belong in the wild, not captive and stared at by bratty, spoiled children.


The zoo had an exhibit of howler monkeys which they called “Black Howler Monkeys.” They were actually Alouatta caraya, which are the black and gold howler monkeys that Martin studies in Argentina. These are beautiful, beautiful howlers. They are dichromatic; that is, females are a golden color while males are black. I don’t know why it is, but a lot of zoos have this particular species. There are 10 different species of howlers (depending on who you ask), but for some reason if a zoo has howlers it is invariably Alouatta caraya.

When we came upon the howlers, they were resting in a box at the top of their cage, so we couldn’t see them very well. From what I did see, one of the females was sitting next to the male and grooming him, then eating whatever crud she picked out of his fur. That was amazing for me, because unlike most other primates, the howlers that I study do not groom. I thought this non-grooming was characteristic of all howlers, but Martin was telling me that his species grooms all the time. I couldn’t believe it. The whole year that I watched my monkeys, I only saw them groom maybe 3 or 4 times. Once, a male grabbed a female’s foot and kind of picked at it. She looked at him in confusion for a while, eventually snapped at him, and then he stopped and just lay down next to her.

Everything was pretty tranquilo as we looked at all the different primates. Then all of a sudden we heard this really loud whooping. We surmised that it was the siamangs (a type of lesser ape), which is where we had just come from, but we ran back over there to see and sure enough they were whooping up a storm. The howlers were caged next to the siamangs and eventually all the commotion stirred them from their resting. They started vocalizing and moving around. It was actually hard to hear them what with all the commotion the siamangs were making next door. There was one male and two females. The male's howls were definitely not very loud, and they sounded quite a bit different than my howlers back in Nicaragua. But still a howl is a howl. I stood there and watched them for a long time, totally tuning out everything but the howlers. I kept thinking of Wrinkle Belly and was so glad he had spent his life in the wide open air instead of behind bars in a zoo.


Whooping siamangs



Howlers and siamangs vocalizing

The thought of WB living in a cage like this made me immeasurably sad.

We continued through the zoo, seeing lions, tigers, and bears, oh my. We also flamingos and pinguinos (penguins). In the morning when we had been walking to the zoo from the bus stop, a man leaving his apartment had randomly given us tickets to a “puffer train.” He said he was a donor to the zoo and got all these free passes every month, but he could never use them all. Random. I began to notice that strange, random things like this happened quite frequently whenever I was with Laura. Either that, or people in San Francisco are just generally very friendly, I’m not sure.


The zookeepers hand-fed each of the pings and made sure that every one of them got the proper amount of fish.


Its the lioness that hunts... today she is relaxed though.


All aboard the "Puffer Train." I promise you that Laura and I weren't the only adults unaccompanied by children who rode the train.

After we had seen all the zoo had to offer, we left and boarded the L train back to Union Station. Its a direct ride, but takes something like 40 minutes to get all the way across town. We had plenty of time to plan our next course of action. We decided that we would hop on a cable car at Union Station and run up to the Trader Joe’s I had been to last night. I had seen that Trader Joe’s was selling a locally made, possibly organic (?) wine that was only $5.99. We decided that in the remaining time that we had left in San Francisco, the two of us would be able to polish off a bottle (neither of our husbands drink).

I should also mention that Laura and her husband had each bought week-long city transportation passes, but since her husband was in the conference all day, Laura had decided that the best course of action would be that I use her husband’s pass. So while traveling with Laura, I haven’t paid for any transportation. I have tried repeatedly to pay her for part of the pass or to buy her lunch or lemonade, but it has not been easy. Just about the only thing she’s conceded to was sharing a bottle of wine. The transportation pass has seriously been a huge saver for me. The cable car is $5 each way—as in, it would cost me $10 to take the cable car up to Fisherman’s Wharf and back. The city bus is only $1.50 (I realized after my Golden Gate expedition that you’re supposed to get a “transfer” ticket from the bus driver that is good for your return trip… too bad I thought it was like the cable car, where you have to buy tickets each way, and I shelled out another $1.50 for the way home!). At any rate, Laura has been super-generous, and I have really enjoyed hanging out with her. Laura’s husband works remotely and they live far away, but they are thinking of moving to C-U, and I sincerely hope they do! Otherwise, we'll just have to meet in San Francisco once a year.

By the time we managed to catch a cable car back home (it was “rush hour” by this time, and we had to wait through a couple of trolleys before being able to get a seat), the guys were done with the conference, and it was time to figure out dinner.

Rob and I opted for an Indian place near the hotel, and after we got done eating, we came back to the hotel and fell asleep.

Day 6 (Friday 13 June)
I have pretty much done nothing today. Rob and I slept in, and then I paced around trying to figure out what to do for the day. I finally decided to find something for breakfast, and then I wandered through some of the shops in Union Station and in Chinatown again. I got a few little souvenirs, including a pair of red shoes for myself (see post below). I had decided I wanted a pair of these shoes, but was thinking I should get them in black, because that would “go” with more of what I have. The girl in the store told me that I should get red, because red is good luck in China and also because I probably had several pairs of black shoes but none of red and this would be fun and different. I actually don’t have very many black shoes (or very many shoes at all), but I did decide that she was right and went with the red in the end. I have them on and cannot stop looking at them. Red was definitely the right decision.

Around noon I met Rob at the convention center, where the conference was closing down for this year. We had some lunch and then Rob left for a long bike ride up Mount Tamalpais. He said he should be home “around” 5pm. I’ll give him until 6, and then I will probably start calling all the local hospitals.

I hung out with Laura again a little bit this afternoon (we had a glass of that organic wine with some fancy chocolate) and then came back to my hotel room to blog and attempt to learn Chinese from a podcast. (A lot of people speak Chinese here). It was really difficult; maybe I should just stick to Spanish.

Rob’s got about 1 more hour before I have to start to panic. Of course, I just remembered that today is Friday the 13th, and that really doesn’t make me feel any better. I am going to go back to pacing around the hotel room in my new red shoes and hope that the Chinese lady in the shop was right about them bringing good luck.

Thanks for reading!


New Shoes



Posting this just so that Rob gets the "New Shoes" song stuck in his head.

This wasn't exactly an impulse buy; I'd been considering a pair of these shoes since Monday but just hadn't found any in my size. The lady at the shop helped me pick a color by telling me that red is a good luck color in China.

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Ragfields in San Francisco (Day 4)

First, a couple of photos from last night in Chinatown:
Four apes sitting on a bench

"Uncle" restaurant?

This morning Rob got up before 6am and went for a really long bike ride. I don’t have the details; he’ll probably post his own blog entry about it, but here are a few pictures he took during the ride:
I presume he rode up this hill

Bike Friday on the Golden Gate Bridge

Classic Rob


I had a bit of a slow morning and then ended up meeting with my new friend Laura. Her husband and Rob work together, and Laura has also come to San Francisco to visit. We met with the guys for lunch, and then Laura and I hopped on a bus up to Fisherman’s Wharf. We went to Pier 39, which is apparently where everything is happening. Its got tons of shops and restaurants and sea lions and a carousel.

The Aquarium at the Bay is also on Pier 39, and this was the main reason why Laura and I had wanted to go there in the first place. It did not disappoint. In fact, it was one of the coolest things I have ever done. Part of the aquarium was a glass tunnel through the bay—as you walked through the tunnel, fish were swimming on all sides of you. All of fish were native to the region. The most interesting thing about this part was the sharks. There were several different kinds, including at least one very large one (I think it was a Seven Gill Shark). It was always really exciting when this guy decided to swim by. I couldn’t help but be retroactively paranoid about the time that Rob did the Escape from Alcatraz Triathlon and swam in these very waters.


Meli in the tunnel. Note the WFD bag, Aimee!


The very best thing about the aquarium came at the end, when they had all these different tanks of animals that you could actually touch. I petted a sting ray, some sea cucumbers, sea urchins, starfish, and yes, even a shark. It was a 2 year old leopard shark. It felt so cool. If primatology doesn’t work out, I would definitely consider becoming a marine biologist.

Meli petting a leopard shark

After the aquarium, Laura and I spent a long time wandering around the strip of shops on Pier 39. Among the most noteworthy was a place called Chocolate Heaven, where I tried to use restraint.
Something that you must know about me is that I love the bitter of bittersweet.

I got a few non-edible souvenirs at some other shops, again, trying my best to use restraint because of our limited luggage situation. But still, I think its necessary to have a few mementos.

There were a lot of really great views on Pier 39. One of the coolest things was the sea lions, who apparently live right on the pier. I seriously could have stood there watching them for hours. I don't know much about their behavior, other than males seem to be very territorial and aggressive. Here is a photo and some video I took:



And some more photos of Pier 39 and the views:




Laura and Melissa at Pier 39

Laura and I had some dinner (which included San Francisco Sourdough Bread) and then wandered south. We encountered a Trader Joe’s, which is truly the most amazing thing ever. I had never been to one, but I’ve always heard people from big cities like Chicago talk about how great they are. And it was. It was like I had entered my own personal heaven. I could have bought everything in the store. It was all healthy, organic stuff, and it was so (comparatively) cheap. I know if I had one wish, it should be for something like world peace, but I think instead it would be to live in a place with a Trader Joe’s.

We caught a cable car to get back home and planned our adventures for tomorrow. Tentatively it includes breakfast and a trip to the San Francisco Zoo. Stay tuned.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Ragfields in San Francisco (Day 2 and 3)

Day 2 (Monday 9 June)
Rob left the hotel around 6:45 in the morning for the 10:00am Keynote Address by Steve Jobs; he stood in a “big ass line” (his words) for about 3 hours with 5,000 of his closest friends waiting to get in to the talk.

I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I eventually headed to Chinatown, which is just about a 15 minute walk northeast of where we’re staying. I loved it. It was frenetic and jam-packed with tourists, but it was so cool. Grant Street is row after row of shops, all of which selling mainly the same kind of stuff. I had to use restraint because there were tons of cute little kitschy things I wanted to buy; most everything was really cheap, but we have very little luggage space for the way home. (Note: Little Miss C would have loved Chinatown; there were a lot of pink things and a lot of Hello Kitty).

Gate at the entrance to Chinatown

Red lanterns in Chinatown

At some tea shop I got a mango tapioca iced tea. It was really good, like mango juice. It had these large brown jelly-bean like things at the bottom of the cup; I suppose that was the tapioca. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to eat it or not. The drink came with a very large straw, so you could not slurp up the tea without getting some of the tapioca pieces as well, so I reasoned that they were edible, but I used caution.

In the afternoon, I came back to the Union Square area (where our hotel is) and got a sourdough veggie Panini for lunch at a little café. It was great. Then I wandered around Nob Hill a little bit, for the first time appreciating just how hilly this city is. Ascending Nob Hill is essentially like climbing a vertical wall. And it was packed with cars, apartments, and shops. I couldn’t believe that people do this every day.

Later in the afternoon I tried to relax but didn’t do a very good job. When Rob got done with the conference around 6:30, he and I went down to Powell and Market and got tickets for the cable car. While we were waiting, we saw one of Rob’s co-workers (who is also here for WWDC) and his wife, so we ended up hanging out with them for the rest of the night. We took the cable car up to Fisherman’s Wharf. The cable car was packed, with people hanging out the sides. Most were tourists, but there were few local people as well. It was kind of a party atmosphere on the cable car. Seriously, everybody gets really excited about cable cars. Passengers are often taking pictures or filming as they ride. And people on the street stop to wave or take pictures as the car goes by. Whenever we met another cable car coming down the other side, there was much cheering. The people on the outside had to scrunch to the sides so that there was room for the 2 cars to meet. The driver was kind of like a tour guide, pointing out attractions as we rode past. It was a little bit like being on a roller coaster… creaking up those giant hills, almost pausing as you get to the top, and then zooming down them while everyone is shouting, “Wheeee!”




Unbeknownst to me, Rob filmed part of the cable car ride.

When we got to Fisherman’s Wharf, we walked around for a while and went to a pier where there is a good viewpoint of the bay and the Golden Gate Bridge. (Rob and I had actually been here the night before, on our bikes). Then we wandered back to the strip, which actually reminded me a lot of San Juan del Sur in Nicaragua. It was lined with restaurant after ridiculously over-priced restaurant, mainly specializing in seafood and fried things. We finally stopped at a place that had linguine with tomato sauce and sat at a table overlooking the bay.

It was freezing when we got done and walked back to catch a cable car on the way home. We got back to the hotel room and crashed for some well-needed sleep.

Day 3 (Tuesday 10 June)
Rob woke up early to go on a bike ride before the conference, and I tried unsuccessfully to go back to sleep. When that didn’t work, I got up and got ready and then attempted to forage for breakfast but ended up deciding to just wait for Rob to get back from his ride so that I could see him again before he left for the conference. When he was ready to go, we left together, amid the bustle of the San Francisco morning. I went back to Café Taza, where I’d had lunch yesterday, and got a fruit/granola/yogurt cup, which was just about the most amazing thing I’ve ever tasted. There was honey drizzled on top, which was perfection. I could live on that stuff.

After having a good breakfast, I decided to brave the San Francisco bus system and try to make my way to Golden Gate Park, all the way at the west side of town. I’ve always found city bus systems to be intensely confusing. Subways and even vaporetti (as in Venice) are no problem but buses confuse me to no end. I couldn’t find any maps of the bus routes through the city, but after looking at the public transportation system website, I had a vague idea that I could get there on the #5.

Just as I walked up to the bus station, a west-bound #5 pulled up, so I hopped on, put in my money, and away we went. It was cool: I saw the Opera Building and City Hall as we rode past, and before too long, we arrived at the park.

I spent all day wandering around the park. It was a little confusing inside the park; maybe a good map would have helped, but still, the park is huge: supposedly 1,000 acres and its at least 3 miles long. After passing the Conservatory of Flowers and deciding not to go in because there were like 3 school groups of very rowdy children who had just entered, I walked what seemed like forever and finally decided to visit Stow Lake. It was really pretty. There is an island in the middle of the lake called Strawberry Hill, and I climbed to the top of it.

Conservatory of Flowers

Chinese pavilion at Stow Lake

Waterfall at Stow Lake

View from Strawberry Hill

Turtle at Stow Lake

After wandering around Stow Lake for what seemed like hours, I made my way over to the Japanese Tea Gardens, which is pretty much the whole reason why I wanted to go to Golden Gate Park anyway. It just sounded cool. And it was pretty cool. It is supposed to be really zen and relaxing; I think I would have been more relaxed if 1000 other tourists hadn’t been enjoying the zen gardens with me, but it was still cool. Rob called me while I was wandering, which was neat. I think he was surprised that I had actually managed to work up the nerve to take a bus over there. When I was done wandering around the gardens, I decided that the tour would not be complete unless went to the tea room for refreshment. Besides, it was 2pm and I hadn’t had lunch. It was a bit crowded in there, but I found a little table and a waitress in a kimono came up to me and said, “Tea for one?” which sounded kind of sad, but I nodded. I got a jasmine tea that came with some little cracker type things and some really good little cookies. The lunch of champions.



After the tea gardens I wandered around the Strybing Arboretum and Botanical Garden until I thought my legs were going to fall off (and this is really saying a lot, considering that I am a marathon runner). It was cool, but again, a map would have helped because there were about a million winding, intertwining paths in which one could conceivably become irretrievably lost.

This actually may have happened to me for a while, but I eventually emerged at a completely different side of the park that I thought I would be at. By that point, I was really tired and beginning to steel myself for a possible 3 or 4-mile walk home if I could not figure out where to catch a bus. I eventually got myself back to where I had entered the park and started walking along the bus route. After just a few blocks, I was nearing a bus stop when an east-bound #5 pulled up. Score. I jumped on the bus and fumbled for money as we pulled away. I ended up right back where I had boarded this morning.

Dodging crowds of people, I made it back to the hotel, where I am resting and regrouping until Rob gets done with the conference for the day and we’re off for our next adventure.

Phew, what a long one. Thanks for reading!

Monday, June 9, 2008

The Ragfields in San Francisco: Day 1

Sunday 8 June 2008

Every year, Rob attends the WWDC conference in San Francisco. Every year, we have toyed with the idea of me coming along, but we’ve never done it until now. We woke bright and early, took separate planes and two folding bikes, and after a long day of travel, we both finally arrived. Rob’s company is putting him up in a really nice hotel. When—most bedraggled—we staggered into the hotel lobby, I felt like character Pigpen from Peanuts. You know, the one who always has a cloud of dirt and dust around him. I wondered how they were ever going to let riff-raff Ragfields stay at a place as swank as this. But they did, and we hauled our bikes and luggage up to the room. The door hadn’t even closed behind us and Rob started setting up the bikes.

It was about 5pm; I’d been traveling since 4 in the morning and hadn’t really eaten anything other than a Clif Bar, a little fruit, and a couple fig newtons, but Rob was eager to take out the bikes and ride to the Golden Gate Bridge (about 8 miles from our hotel). I had this weirdly exhausted bravado (or perhaps I knew that it was just inevitable), so I agreed and off we went. Riding through the downtown, with all the cars and stoplights was okay. In fact it was all going pretty well until I had to cross an obliquely lined cable-car track and my front tire got stuck in the rut and I didn’t even know what happened until I was face down on the pavement and heard a woman call out, “Are you okay?” Mercifully, I was, but the handlebars of my bike were bent. A few quick adjustments and we were off again, other than my entire body was shaking so bad I could barely pedal. Rob later told me that something similar had happened to big name pro-cyclist Alberto Contador (getting his tire stuck in the rut of train tracks) and he fell and broke his elbow. I think he went on to win the Giro or Vuelta or something like that afterwards, I'm not sure. I definitely wasn't going to win anything after that.

We rode along the Embarcadero, past Fisherman’s Wharf, and through the Presidio, none of which I really saw because I spent the entire time trying to dodge meandering tourists, skateboarders zigzagging across the road, cars (in some places), and people who would walk right out in front of you and then stop. This was the worst on the hills. Physically, I’m just fine. The hills were comparable to the big hill in Santa Cruz. Mercifully, there were no rocks or chickens, but there were plenty of other hazards. It was like some kind of horrible video game. Oh, and it was windy. Hella windy.

Meli by Alcatraz

Rob and Meli in front of Alcatraz

By the time we got to the bridge I was screaming at Rob and swearing a blue streak. I am a marathon runner, isn’t that enough?? I do not like riding a bike. There are too many *&^%$&* people in my way. Nonetheless. We rode across the bridge. It was a lot longer than I’d thought, and there was so little joy in it. The lack of joy was made up for by an abundance of wind. I wished that there were weights I could attach to my handlebars because it was so windy I could barely control the bike. At 2 locations, around the giant girders, you had to do this sharp right, sharp left, and another sharp right around completely blind, very narrow corners. I swear to god the wind must have been 100 miles an hour at this part, and it was very likely you would meet another cyclist that you wouldn’t see until crashing into him or her. I don’t know how a hundred people don’t die here every day. The entire path was barely wide enough for 2 cyclists to meet. At one location I saw a phone labeled something like “Emergency and Crisis Hotline.” I suppose that was for people who were contemplating jumping, but I wondered if my situation warranted using it. I didn’t actually want to die, I just was so certain that I was going to.





By the grace of some deity, we managed to ride back across the bridge and the remaining 8 or 9 miles to our hotel. It had been about 20 miles round trip, with some minor diversions we took to look at the bay, etc. We finally ate dinner at a little place across from the hotel called “Naan and Curry”—seriously good Indian/Pakistani food.

When we came back to the room, I checked my email, and much to my amazement, I had a little message from Eduardo! I couldn’t believe it. After 5 months, I finally hear from him again. He had gotten my birthday email. He seemed surprised that I remembered his birthday, and he said he wasn’t celebrating it (didn’t say why). He said he was happy to receive my email and he hoped that I was well. He sent greetings to Rob and my family. His message seemed a little sad, but at the very least, I was relieved to hear from him again.

At any rate, I’m hoping for a better Day 2 in San Francisco. At the moment I kind of hate it, which probably makes me the only person who’s ever been here that’s felt that way. I would also say that this is NOT a bike friendly town, what with all the cable car tracks to traverse in the downtown area and all the idiot tourists you have to dodge even on the “bike paths” in the parks. The Golden Gate Bridge didn’t even impress me, nor did the ocean make me happy. All I could think was, here is this beautiful place, that white people stole from Native Americans and crudded up with a bunch of buildings and this god-awful bridge.

I’m not sure what I’m going to do to make Day 2 better, because I honestly feel that if I leave this hotel room, I will never make it back here again. There is a pool somewhere in the hotel, but I don’t know if I could find it; plus its only 53 degrees out, so not good swimming weather. At any rate, I’d better go and figure out how to make the most of this day. Thanks for reading.

Sunday, June 8, 2008

El cumpleaños de Eduardo

Querido Eduardo,
Felíz cumpleaños! Espero que estes muy muy bien. Pienso de tuyo cada día y creo que nos encontraremos otra vez.

Un fuerte abrazo,
Melissa

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

In a tornadic way

What do you bring with you when you take shelter during a tornado warning? Well, tonight when I heard the sirens go off, I set about grabbing what seemed to be the most important things. A bottle of water. A flashlight and radio. A candle and matches. My Burt’s Bees chapstick. Rob. My wallet and cell phone. And my laptop, which contains the life-blood of my dissertation. I became paranoid that if the tornado stripped off our upstairs (thus taking with it the hard drive to which my computer is backed up) and if it somehow also managed to pry my laptop out of my hands, I would be data-less and seriously up a creek. Rob, believing you can never be too careful about backing up your data, copied gigantic quantities of my files to his computer at work (which didn’t actually make me feel that safe, because I reasoned that if our house got demolished, so would his office), and also to his parents' computer (which didn’t make me feel too much safer, since D-ville seemed to be in the line of fire as well).

Now, where do Rob and I take shelter during a tornado? We don’t have a basement. On the day we were moving in, when we met our next door neighbors, they told us that we could come over to their basement during storms. Seriously, the day we met they told us that. But really… is that just one of those things you say? I wasn’t about to go knocking on their door at 10pm, when I’m already in my pajamas.

So our only option is our bathroom—its on the first floor and has no windows. When the sirens went off, we headed to the bathroom. Rob sat on the toilet seat, cooly copying my dissertation files to various computers around the state and also IM-ing Aimee (not in the state anymore). I sat on the edge of the tub and powered our hand-crank radio so we could listen to the static and the updates about the weather.

Finally at about 10:15, our local meteorologist announced: “This storm does not appear to be holding together, at least in a tornadic way,” and the tornado warnings thus expired. Rob and I looked at each other and said, “Tornadic?” then we gathered our things and ventured out of the bathroom.

The tornado warning may have expired, but its still one helluva storm raging out there. Hopefully everyone is safe. And Cathy, thanks for identifying the mystery flower in my yard. How are you with tropical plants? I could sure use some help with some of the unidentifiable things I saw monkeys eating in Nicaragua!