[travel] From Midwest, With Love - 2008

I

En route to Chicago.
The storm was going through the Midwest. My plane was fortunate to depart and land on time but many others, I later learned, were delayed or canceled. I know not when it started, but for some time now, prior to all my trips I pause and wonder if I would ever come back. So far I made it back each time. And I would always come back--until that one time when I won't.

II
Merchandise Mart, someone told me, has its own zip code. On floors 3, 10 and 11 are the manufacturers' showrooms. Booths were also set up on floors 7 and 8. Every single elevator was packed with people like sardines in a can. Feet were tired, shoulder grew heavy, all sensory inlets overloaded.

Even though it was my first time attending NeoCon, it was a disappointment. New products were few and far between. New innovations were more thinly scattered about. I know and understand the products and manufacturers enough to know that this year, everyone held back. Parties, too, were done at modest scales. Steelcase party only served one type of cocktail which tasted like melted Jolly Rancher with a teaspoon of vodka diluted in melting ice water. When asked if we could get vodka straight up, bartender refused. No parties were held at empty floor of Sears Tower. It was the sign of times.

III

I like Chicago. The city is eclectic, fun, and most importantly, full of life. It would not be a bad city to consider living in.

Of the Chicago I have seen so far, Frank Gehry's Jay Pritzker Pavilion was the most impressive (for its acoustics), Anish Kapoor's strangely (or not) Jeff Koons-like outdoor sculpture Cloud Gate was the most amusing, the subway was the most nostalgic. I spent time in good company, sharing great meals, good Scotch, and engaging conversations. Views from Sears and Hancock Towers kept me in prolonged moments of awe. But the best moments I had in The Windy City were the ones I spent alone wandering the streets, map in tow but never bothering to look at it, eating Polish sausage and sweet potato fries at a hole in a wall, finding wonderfully well stocked bookstore, and crossing the streets before the lights turned green like the locals do.

But even in the midst of city with glitz and charm and life, the first waking moments of every morning felt desolate. I looked over at the undisturbed pillows and sheets next to me. Only one person was in my mind. Even the change of pace and scenery couldn't help it.

IV

Onekama, Michigan, is a six hour drive from Chicago. Thank god for my iPod and the bountiful greenery around that kept me company. I listened to John Adams' Naive and Sentimental Music and a lot of Schubert driving up (days later, on my way back was a Mozart fest, including Le Nozze di Figaro in entirety). Around the little town of Holland, dull but persistent pain troubled my right shoulder. I knew rain was on the way.

V

She gave me the same room I had stayed in before. First thing I did in the room was to get down on the floor and look under the dresser. There, plugged on the outlet, was the adapter plug I accidentally left there ten months ago. I reached under to retrieve it. Some things have a way of getting lost, then finding a way back. Like a dozen treasured photos of my childhood that I had once lost. Like this adapter plug. People, too, have a way of coming back. Sometimes.

The storm came the next night. It sent a poor standard white poodle in a frenzied panic attack. Me--well, I loved it. It felt like summer. By bedtime, the storm was hitting hard. I went to sleep, listening both to threatening thunder outside and Beethoven's Pathetique. The storm caused power failure that lasted all next day. A little inconvenience was well worth one spectacular night of summer thunderstorm.

Last time I was in Onekama, I wasn't sure if I could ever come back. But here I was again, less than a year later. I sensed a certain melancholy here that I did not feel here before. Nothing had changed at Rosegate. What changed was me.

VI
Soon after the plane left O'Hare, I found myself enshrouded in so many thoughts. And like I did in Ojai listening to Dawn Upshaw singing Alban Berg's Die Nachtigall, I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. But when one single drop of tear escaped through the corner of my eye, the flood gate was open. I let them come as they are.

[travel] The Polar Opposites of Midwest

Day 1, Sunday: Chicago. Stormy Weather
Vacating the apartment and place of work for an entire week involves a significant amount of preparation. After two hours of restless sleep, I headed to the airport. I recognized faces of half of the passengers on the plane. They were all headed to Chicago to attend NeoCon. So was I.

Upon landing at O'Hare airport I learned that severe Midwest storm kept many flights delayed and canceled some others. My coworkers came in late, and my boss's flight was canceled. That was fine--I didn't feel like meeting up with them for a drink that night anyway.

That evening my sponsor and I went to dine with style at Room 21. The decor was eclectic, bold and colorful. We started with beef carpaccio, then I had tomato bisque and seared scallops with salad, all prepared to perfection. But the warm cardamom doughnuts with chocolate and raspberry sauces...if food heaven exists, it is inside that subtle cardamom flavor of piping hot doughnut, freshly deep fried to order, with a drizzle of the perfectly dark, yet not overpowering, chocolate sauce that is neither too thick or too thin. And the meal was capped with 18 year old Macallen, before and after dinner. This is a close--very close--second to my favorite meal of all time, at The Restaurant at Getty.

Menu at Room 21

Afterwards we got together with couple other vendors and went to The Bar at Peninsula Hotel. More scotch there. I never made it to Allsteel party at Apple store. It was raining when we left.

Day 2, Monday: Chicago. Crazy NeoCon Day

Merchandise Mart--a whole zip code of a building

Knoll hosted breakfast at Aria Restaurant at Four Seasons for Orange County designers. I ordered crab cake eggs benedict while others ordered homemade granola and yogurt. I said I was embarrassed for my choice of menu, but really, I wasn't. After breakfast we took a cab to Merchandise Mart, that obnoxiously big building which I was told has its own zip code. After a walk through of 11th floor showrooms, I headed over to Joey Shimoda luncheon symposium hosted by Steelcase. He spoke in depth about the design process of new Steelcase showroom at the Mart. I walked away with my creative charge fueled up.

The Knolls

It wasn't until mid-afternoon that I met up with AK and her nephew. We hung out at Steelcase party which only served one type of cocktail that tasted like melted Jolly Rancher with half a teaspoon of vodka diluted in melting ice water. Ugh.

Inside-Outside

Really, guys, you couldn't afford linear diffuser?

A close encounter with a column

For dinner, I managed to tag along with AK and her sponsors to David Burke's Primehouse. I ordered 55-day aged ribeye for entree. But as good as the dinner was (with a four-digit price tag to go along), it did not leave much impression on me. Maybe it was the wine--it started giving me a headache. After a brief stop at Signature Lounge on top of Hancock Tower to finally meet my coworkers for a drink, I headed home to sleep.

View from Signature Lounge, Hancock Tower

Day 3, Tuesday: Chicago. Why did I wear my maryjanes?

I always claimed that my maryjanes were the most comfortable pair of shoes I own. After all, I am able to wear them hiking up the hill of Hollywood Bowl with no problem. But I guess to walk around in it all day is a different story, even with extra silicon padding I slipped in underneath.

After tour of more showrooms in the morning, AK, her nephew and I decided to do some sightseeing. So after lunch we headed to Millennium Park where, coincidentally, Chicago Symphony Orchestra was rehearsing at Frank Gehry designed pavilion. We sat for awhile to listen before goofing around the awfully Jeff Koons reminiscent Cloud Gate by Anish Kapoor.

A simpler, outdoor version of WDCH

I'm in there somewhere as a dot

Then off to Sears Tower we went. This time, we took the train instead of a cab. Staring out towards the tracks, I thought of an old dream I had.

54th and Wabash

From Sears Tower

We went from Sears Tower to Hancock Tower to join AK's sponsors for drinks. I bid them farewell as they headed off to dinner. As much as I loved their company, I needed some "me" time. Alone. I tossed the maryjanes and changed into flats before hitting the streets. I went to a hole-in-a-wall for some spicy Polish sausage and sweet potato fries. I went to a bookstore and bought H. Hesse's Pictor's Metamorphosis. Being completely alone in a city that I do not know--priceless.
Day 4, Wednesday: Chicago/Michigan. The Drive.
Never have I learned to sleep on the middle of the bed. This day was no exception and I woke up staring at the undisturbed pillows and sheets next to me. Only one person was in my mind.
In the afternoon I picked up my rental car, a Chevrolet Cobalt with 780 miles on it. No power windows. Getting through all those toll gates gave me enough exercise on my left arm for the day. Through Illinois and Indiana I drove, and up Michigan along the lake. I managed to find a classical music station on the radio. As my luck would have it, it was a pledge week. After an hour of that, I tried listening to Conrad's Heart of Darkness (on Classic Tales Podcast). But the view was too pretty, atmosphere too pleasant, for such sullen telling of a story. Instead, I listened to John Adams' Naive and Sentimental Music and a lot of Schubert. By the time I reached Holland, MI, my shoulder was sending painful signals of rain to come.

Driving Michigan

It was quarter after 8, EST, by the time I reached Onekama. GU and her niece E welcomed me. After dinner and walk to the pier and dessert (in that exact sequence), we played few games of Pente, a Greek game similar to Connect Four, except with five.
I was given the room I stayed in last year. I wouldn't have wanted to have it any other way. Back then I accidentally left my phone adapter on the plug under the dresser. I looked under--it was still there. There was no need for it any more with my new phone, but I gladly retrieved it. But as I unpacked I realized that I left the camera battery charger at the hotel. You gain some, you lose some. Oh well.
Last time I was in Onekama, I left thinking I may never come back. But I was here once again, less than a year later. I sensed a certain melancholy this time that I did not feel here before. Nothing had changed at Rosegate--what changed was me.

Day 5, Thursday: Michigan. Real Storm Begins.

We took a late morning walk to wood carving artist's studio. Otherwise it was a laid back, uneventful day.

Wally-meister

Zoe-berger

GU's sister, brother-in-law, and mother arrived by dinner time. We had excellent dinner (maybe I should instead call it supper) of grilled pork tenderloin, grilled peach and goat cheese salad with balsamic syrup, creamy polenta, and homemade blueberry cobbler. Sitting at the porch to another round of Pente, rain started coming. With each minute it fell harder, winds growing stronger. In the distant skies we saw lightening which sent poor Zoey an anxiety attack.

Thunderstorm

I loved the thunderstorm. It felt like summer. By bedtime, the storm was hitting hard. I went to sleep, listening both to threatening thunders outside and Beethoven's Pathetique.

Day 6, Friday: Michigan. Back to the Basics.

The thunderstorm of night before knocked out power in the middle of the night. Plumbing was shut, too. Life really had to go back to the basics.

The weather was clearing up. 6-7 possible inches of rain was had in one night. 31 highway was closed from Manistee south because a bridge got washed up. The whole town of Manistee was in disarray after the storm.

It was a lazy day with walks to the beach along Lake Michigan, more games of Pente at the dock, and a nap.

Washed up deer carcass

Despite the lack of power and water, we still managed to eat like kings. Most everything was prepared on the gas grill. Grilled flank steak, blanched asparagus, sliced heirloom tomatoes, and choices of desserts. After dinner GU, E and I went for a walk along the channel and out to the pier to see the sunset. At 9:30PM, the sun was still peeking out from the clouds, albeit close to the horizon. The power was back on when we came back home.

9:10 PM, EST

9:32 PM, EST

Day 7, Saturday: Michigan. Journey Back Home.
In the wee hours of the morning (2:22AM to be exact), I woke up from my sleep. I looked over at the empty twin bed next to mine. For a long time I could not fall back asleep.

The farewell was emotional. Neither of us showed it, though. GU packed me lunch to go like a mother would, wrapping each slice of sandwich individually, done so it would easily peel even while driving.

Because of the road closures along the stretch of highway I was supposed to have taken, I took a detour per GU's instructions. It was an hour detour which I made in 45 minutes. I did not stop all the way to Chicago except to fill up the gas. It was a 6 1/2 hour drive. I created a mini Mozart fest, with complete listening of Le Nozze di Figaro, Symphony No. 40, and Piano Concerto No. 20, among others. How would I ever travel without my 80GB iPod?

Soon after the plane took off, I found myself enshrouded in so many thoughts. And like I did in Ojai listening to Dawn Upshaw singing Alban Berg's Die Nachtigall, I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. But when one single drop of tear escaped through the corner of my eye, the flood gate was open. I...didn't hold back.

[travel] Park City, Last Day - I'm still me

Snow stopped falling and the sun came out once again, melting icicles.

I walked around in the morning again with my camera. I thought long and hard about what I was to take back from this trip. There were no special moments and certainly no new revelations. I still was as I came.

Back in LAX, I called up my sister to pick me up instead of taking the limo back to OC with the rest of the group. I told my sister I could not stand another minute as a member of a group. She said I have a personality defect. I shrugged and replied, "whatever."

Day 4, 8:38 AM MST

[travel] Park City, Day 3 - Loss

The night was sleepless. My emotions went on a turbulent ride, sometimes despondent, sometimes resentful, sometimes enraged, my poor little heart still hurting through it all.

With the sound of morning alarm I headed out the door with my Nikon. Snow shower was just starting. Last time I saw snow falling, I was in Tehachapi with an old friend. An Alaskan Malamute named Char came to greet us. My friend taught me proper Buddhist way to bow. I took many pictures with my 35mm, eventually titling one "Snow Flower." Shortly after this trip, my friend of eighteen years and I parted ways. Three years and some months have past since.

Snow fell heavier and heavier as day grew old.

[travel] Park City, Day 2 - Lies

At two o'clock in the afternoon, I lied to my mother. She called and, detecting grogginess in my voice, she asked if I was still sleeping. I said I was just taking a nap.

I took a leisurely walk to Main Street and found a little coffee shop. With a cup of Americano and a brownie I found an outdoor seating in the sun. I took out Raymond Carver's book from my camera bag and started reading. I sat there and read three of his stories. I folded corner of a page of a story titled "Careful", where it read,

At first, he couldn't remember anything noteworthy. Then he remembered eating those doughnuts and drinking champagne. Time was when he would have considered this a mildly crazy thing to do, something to tell friends about. Then, the more he thought about it, the more he could see it didn't matter much one way or the other. He'd had doughnuts and champagne for breakfast. So what?

In Park City I learn there is little difference between alcoholism and depression.

[travel] Park City, Day 1 - What I left behind

It didn't hit me until I sat down on my seat and looked out the window of the plane that I was in LAX. Just beyond the boundary of the airport was a white building with a big sign on top that said "Otis." Oh my god, I'm in L.A., I thought. I looked around. This half of the plane was packed with people I had made acquaintance with in Orange County. It didn't feel right. This new life of mine that I took on with reluctance was too close to a place I still considered home. I felt lost.

Then the plane took off. A few thousand feet up in the air, I looked out the window again. Below was the blue waters of the Pacific. Far away inland was Century City. I thought about all things between those high rise buildings and this plane. Staring back at the city that fast miniaturized from my view, I feared I may never come back. The plane kept ascending while my heart went sinking.

That night in Park City, I began a sleep that would last fourteen hours.

[travel] Utah - Prologue

Snow was everywhere. And more of it came piling on top. It kept coming through the day and into the night. It froze everything it touched, except for one thing I wished to freeze and leave buried behind.

Day 3, 3:08 PM MST

[trip] Salk

A brief drive somehow turned into an overnight trip to La Jolla. And of course, I visited the temple of Salk. I will never tire of this place.

[trip] Michigan - Prologue

Death does not exist in Onekama.

But of course, things die there every day. During one morning's walk alone, I saw two dead salmons, one floating on water and the other beached ashore, its flesh torn by the hungry birds. I know that the monotonous sound of the cicada I heard on my first day did not belong to the one making same such sound on the day I was leaving--these poor insects live but a week after spending seven years buried underground. Raccoons and possums, all victims of road kill, lay lifeless along the sides of the road everywhere. Even the history of each of the houses there involve deaths of someone or another. But all these deaths are merely a part of regenerative cycle of life itself. Without any philosophical or metaphysical concepts tied to their ends, it is unnecessary to distinguish "death" from "life".

And thus death, as I know it, does not exist in Onekama.

[trip] Mountain Spirit Center, November, 2004

I have made four trips out to the Mountain Spirit Center in Tehachapi, California. During my second trip, it snowed. An Alaskan Malamute with clear blue eyes came from nowhere to greet us.

A year later, I made my third trip out there alone.

[trip] Big Bear Lake, May, 2007

T. S. Elliot must have had the kind of April I was having when he wrote The Waste Land. I was never friends with the month of April, typically keeping as low a profile as I can. But the past month was proving to be one of the more--but not the most--cruel ones. By the end of the month, I was fatigued, mentally and emotionally. I needed to get away.

I wanted to go to a place that is either completely new to me or related to a pleasant memory. Initially having thought of Pismo Beach or Monterey/Carmel, I quickly realized that the entire central coast did not meet the conditions I set. After much wasted time on hesitations and indecisiveness, Big Bear Lake was finally chosen as the destination--it fell in the latter category.


Day 1, May 13, Sunday.

Sunday being the Mother's Day, I paid my obligatory visit to my mom on Saturday instead. But my mom being a mother, tried her best, with success, to get me to visit her again on Mother's Day. So my start was a late one, with three different types of crustaceans in my stomach.
My poor car, not used to such strenuous driving, had a difficult time going up the winding roads of the San Bernardino National Forest. I could feel the pains of my car--the last five miles gave me a short-lived migraine headache. Finally, around 6PM, I arrived and checked in at the Marina Resort.

It wasn't the most upscale a place to stay--the decor was hideous and ceiling was a bit too low. But it was clean, had a fireplace, and most importantly, a balcony with a view of the lake. As soon as the unpacking was done, I grabbed my Nikon and headed out.

Ducks, my goodness, the ducks! The Mallards were everywhere. And by a little magic of my camera and the sun, I got the shot below. Except for cropping the photo and adding a watermark, no Photoshop work was done to this. I didn't play with the color setting of my camera either.

I spent the rest of the evening quietly in my room, reading Hermann Hesse and drinking the wine I brought along, listening to--unseasonably--Schubert's Winterreise. Ever since my strangely spooky trip to San Simeon two and a half years ago, I made a habit of bringing my rosary to any trip. And starting this year, I added another one--an old family portrait.

Day 2, May 14, Monday.

The hotel's idea of "continental breakfast" was packaged cinnamon buns and watered down coffee. Utterly disappointed, I started wandering around the lobby, looking through the periodicals. One of the magazines featured an article about newest acquisitions at the Moonridge Zoo--a silver fox and what looked like a groundhog--and it became my first and only planned activity.

The two acre lot facility housed such animals as crows, squirrels, even seagulls. It was more like a wild life shelter than a zoo, but I had a surprisingly great time, and walked away with a couple of great photos.

Bald-headed Eagle

My encounter with a bear



Probably my favorite shot of the trip--a baby owl staring at its left over.

I went for a drive around the lake after leaving the zoo. Listening to Eroica, Beethoven's third symphony, and hugging every curve of the road along the lake was a thing of beauty.

After a late lunch of tilapia and sauteed vegetables at a local restaurant (really, what is a mountain-y meal to eat?), I went back to the room and made use of the balcony that had a view. Of the three books I brought along with me, I picked the collection of short stories by Ryu Murakami (not to be confused with Haruki Murakami, no relations), about food and women. It is an interesting read, even second time around, but he's still no match for his unrelated colleague.

As the sunset started to cast beautiful light on the scenery, I headed out with my camera again. There was a boardwalk I had seen while driving earlier that day, and I wanted to go there. Unfortunately, it wasn't too photo-worthy and I was left with only a boring picture.

The evening was uneventful. I did some more thinking, then tried to read Hesse's The Glass Bead Game, one of only two books of his I have not yet read. But I was overcome by complete exhaustion and I fell asleep even before finishing my wine.

Day 3, May 15, Tuesday

As I started packing to leave, I realized how much "stuff" I had. I had a small suitcase filled with my clothes and toiletries, a laptop case, a camera case, a tripod, and another tote bag containing the wine glass, wine opener, water bottles, etc. And I wondered if the words "travel light" have become obsolete to modern day people. Or is it just obsolete to me, having adopted peculiarities that require more and more "stuff" as I age? Either way, I wasn't too happy.

After checking out, I headed to Lake Arrowhead. Actually, my pleasant memory of a trip to Big Bear was Lake Arrowhead, not Big Bear Lake. Six years ago, a college friend of mine from Japan was visiting for a month. A fishing aficionado he was (probably still is), and insisted that we go to Arrowhead, with a cheap fishing rod in one hand and salmon roe in the other. A fishing aficionado I wasn't, but tagging along I could, I took The Fountainhead in one hand and my camera in the other. That day, he caught what looked like a rainbow trout. I, having dozed off while reading, ended up with a reddish tan on one side of my face.

When I got to the village, I went straight to McDonald's for lunch, reminiscing about the late lunch my friend and I had there six years ago.
Somehow in my CD player, Jimmi Hendrix found his way, adding more fun to the mountain driving (although it would have been really fun with Acura TL sports sedan that I would be getting in a couple months). I started driving around the lake, hoping to find the spot I had gone to last time I was here.

I did find the spot. But my friend and I must not have realized that we were trespassing on private property. We were bold then (or just ignorant), I guess, but I am not any more. So I left.

The music switched from Hendrix to The Beatles. But as I continued my descent down the mountain, I found myself missing Beethoven. At 3,000 feet elevation, I slipped in his String Quarter No. 13 into the CD player.

I was listening to Grosse Fuge as I passed the sign leaving the San Bernardino Mountains. And I came back to the reality that wasn't much different than before I drove up there.