CLASSIC SCOOTS

Last Tuesday night we piled on the scoot and headed off for the Petersen Automotive Museum to check out the new Scooter exhibit, and to attend a special curator talk about the history of scooters.

Good thing we took the scoot.  Getting out of our end of town to head to the mid-Wilshire area is becoming darn near impossible.  The intersections getting out of Santa Monica and thru Westwood are gridlocked.  You can spend a half hour getting through one light.  Unless, of course, you are scootin’ and can go between the stopped cars.  We did this repeatedly and saved a huge amount of time.  And only clipped one mirror in the process.  :(  My bad.  I did not stop.

The talk was fine and surprisingly well attended for a Tuesday night.  The exhibit was superb.  There wasn’t a printed guide, and I didn’t take notes, so you’ll just have to make do with the photos.

I have no idea what’s up with the big, white flatbed scoot.  The cushion area was about 3x6 feet.  No handles, so any passengers would be sliding off at the first turn.  I particularly liked the design of the tubular frame at bottom center.  Elegantly simple.  The tail light is incorporated into the end of the tube under the seat.

I don’t know why, but the tall “trashcan” scoots like the upper right appealed to me.  Such a goofy design.  I hope the rickshaw had a very slow speed limit.  That canopy would fill with air and take off, it seems to me.

We caught the displays with at least one goof, which we pointed out to the curator.

Not!  We have a GTS250.  Cut those mpg ratings in half and you’re about right. 

This was an excellent exhibit, if you have any interest at all in scoots..

LAS SECUELAS

The wedding was on Friday, but we weren’t due to fly home until Sunday, so John & Meghan had done a lot of planning to arrange a charter boat on Saturday to take everyone to either snorkel or to loaf on a beach accessible only by the sea.  Actually, we got to do both.  The weather continued to cooperate, and we got calm seas and blue skies for our one-hour voyage.

First stop was a look-see at Los Arcos, with its caves and many other dive boats. 

Since the beach for the non-snorkelers was further south, we just cruised around here and then pushed on.  We got to Las Animes, dropped off the loafers, and transferred the rest of us to a smaller launch to keep going south to the rocky coves where the fish were to be found.  Things got tense when the Jolly Roger was spotted,

but our lack of plunder was obvious and we were left in peace.  Until, that is, the feeding frenzy of the dreaded saltwater piranhas.

 

Well, they coulda been piranhas.  They were beautiful, regardless.  When we plopped overboard, we immediately were in the midst of a huge school of these things.  They were the most colorful that we saw, and by far the greatest in number, but we did see a decent variety for this part of the coast.  The water was nice and warm.  You could stay in for hours if you wanted, but we were done after about one.  We had brought our masks, but not our fins, so swimming barefoot got tiring after a while.  Yeah, pansies.  I know.

We made it back to the beach and met up with the slugs, who were several drinks ahead of us.  The tables and umbrellas were courtesy of the El Coral restaurant behind us which, while having pretty good food, easily takes the award for the most manana service we encountered.  For the food, that is;  drinks were brought out pronto.

  The beach had a parasail operation going, and they managed to drop every rider we saw right on the designated landing spot as gentle as can be.  I still wasn’t tempted, however.  Those guys were getting really high.

We were content to kick back with a cerveza and some shade

 

and watch the newlyweds do the newlywed things.

Sunday it was time to pack up, take one last dip in the infinity pool, and taxi our way out to the airport.  The cabs here don’t work on a meter, but rather a zone system.  A fixed rate for each zone traveled.  For the most part, the rates were reasonable, no one tried to gouge us, and the cabbies were friendly.  Try saying that on a trip to New York.  At the airport, we couldn’t check in right away as no one was home at the Alaska Airlines counter.  The shopping was limited, but I was REALLY tempted to get this for Loni to wear.

Alas, at $USD 89, it was a pricy joke.  At last the agents opened the counters;  however, we ran into a laborious process to get checked in, the result not of the Mexican equivalent of the TSA (everything is “sorta” checked by hand, no Xrays), but rather Alaska Airline failing to have sufficient agents to handle the crowd.  We were the fifth couple in our line.  It took us an hour and twenty minutes to get to the agent.  I was not a happy camper.

Ah, well, I guess there has to be a transition back to reality from a magical week.  Adios, Puerto Vallarta, y gracias!

LA BODA MAGNIFICA: TERCERA PARTE

At last, the big day, Friday June 17 (ignore the publish date above).   We started out with a family breakfast out on our terrace, while Meghan and hers did the same at the bridal villa.  The staff did their usual great job, and the view didn’t disappoint either. 

Loni later went down the hill to John & Meghan’s place and found the bride and Dad completely up tight about the whole affair.

 

The rest of the day was lazy on our parts, but I suspect things got a little more hectic down at the bridal suite.  Late afternoon, we ordered a trio of taxi vans to haul us down the hill to the Vista Grill restaurant which was up its own hill, overlooking the city and bay.

The picture above shows the covered area, but there are several large terraces to the left and center below the covered part, which have big couches and chairs to lounge on. 

The ceremony was held on the largest of the patios.  Unfortunately, with all the chairs, the space was a little tight and the orientation wasn’t the best for photography, with lots of backlighting. 

I don’t think John & Meghan cared one whit.

The wedding was a civil ceremony according to Mexican law, and required the employment of a quasi-judicial person.  In the state of Jalisco, there is only one, and that is the woman in the white shirt to the right.  She performed the ceremony in Spanish, and a translator repeated everything for the benefit of us gringos.  There is a required script, but it can be supplemented with personal insertions, which John and Meghan did.  There seems to be a strong focus, both in the pre-marital required “counseling,” and in the ceremony’s wording, on the rights of the woman and how she is not to be abused.  Seemed a little strange to our egalitarian sensibilities, but this is a macho culture.  Anyway, it was a beautiful ceremony.

Meet the in-laws!

Overcoming logistical difficulties, Barry greets his new son-in-law.

The restaurant did an excellent job with the banquet.  Hey, and I didn’t have to pay!  All the more delicious.

Mom got to dance with her boyo.  The grin stayed on her face for days.

People came from great distances to deep down in Mexico (PV is just WNW of Mexico City) to help John & Meghan celebrate.  Ireland, England, and all corners of the U.S.  Everyone had a blast.

When Michael and Alia got married two years ago, I was popping my buttons with pride.  I had no less pride this time around, but must confess to being hit with, at times, more emotion than I thought I had left in this old bod.  I don’t think I want to over-analyze it.  There’s some sort of great circle being closed, and this was a big part of it.  Loni and I have been so lucky in our lives, we just want the same for all our family. 

Hmm.  Somehow, I don’t think we have to worry.

LA BODA MAGNIFICA – SEGUNDA PARTE

Yeah, we could live like this all the time.  Gotta buy more Lotto tickets, that’s all. 

The week was full of “down” time to do whatever we wanted, which mostly consisted of lazing about the villas with the rest of the guests and getting together for group lunches and breakfasts.  Sorta like being at an all-inclusive resort with your family and friends.

The next real “event” was the bachelor party, which son Mike had arranged at a British pub (!?!) in downtown PV.  It turned out to be a perfect choice.  We had the second floor and its pool table all to ourselves.  The room was open to the street back there behind Mike, so the sounds of the city could come in and we could observe the rather lively comings and goings below.  We had rock coming through the pub speakers, and banda music through the open balcony from the dance hall across the street.  They had Guinness and Bass on tap, so a black and tan was in order.  Yum.

Our, er, nicely endowed Brit waitress (white dress, background, below) kept the drinks coming with remarkable efficiency, the younger generation segued from beer to rounds of tequila shooters, and mental states generally deteriorated from there.  Yours truly and the rest of the boomer generation made a dignified early retreat, leaving the boys to seek that great headache in the sky.

Next up was the rehearsal dinner, sans the rehearsal.  Just another excuse to fleece old Dad’s pockets!  :)  The dinner was held on the sand in front of the open-air, beachfront restaurant, La Palapa.    We had three long tables under thatched awnings, and the setting was perfect. 

As the sun and the wine went down, it all got quite romantic feeling.

The food was attractively plated

and, if you ordered the fish, quite good.  I thought the stuffed pork tenderloin was a little overcooked.  No matter, everyone had a great time right on into the night, especially the cutie at the far end of the table.  I couldn’t take my eyes off her as 43+ years of memories did their number on my pysche. 

 

John’s best friend from college is Mike L., whom he met in his freshman dorm.  A free spirit, Mike has eclectic pursuits, the most exotic of which is fire spinning.  Wha?  At first I thought I heard fire “spitting,” and thought that was a little far out even for Mike.  John set me straight after I expressed a bit of concern.  The spinning is only marginally less dangerous.  He takes two flaming balls that are attached to cords, and goes through a variety of twirling maneuvers, set to music, no less.  It was pretty impressive, and I still don’t know how he managed not to set his clothes on fire.

He drew quite a crowd of onlookers from the beach and the restaurant.  Kudos to Mike!  We also had another bit of free entertainment.  The restaurant will set up a table isolated out on the sand, surround it with candle lights, and call in the strolling mariachis.  This is for those special romance dinners.  Here’s a fuzzy blowup of a thumbnail on their website.

Anyway, an old coot, significantly further into geezerdom than I, was set up near us with an expensively chic young thing somewhere south of his granddaughter’s age.  Champagne was brought out, cork popped, and they got engaged!  They departed a bit before we did, with both him and the trophy sporting toothy grins that would do credit to an Ipana ad.  I suspect the underlying motivations were not exactly the same.

Like I said, a romantic evening all around!

LA BODA MAGNIFICA – PRIMERA PARTE

Boy, are we lucky.  Not only did we get blessed with two fine sons, we now have completed the set with the second wonderful daughter-in-law. 

John and Meghan finally enjoyed the fruit of their year-long planning of their wedding in Puerto Vallarta.  It took an incredible amount of work to pull this off so (apparently) smoothly.  This was more like a vacation party for the guests than a formal event.  But, let’s start from the beginning.

We took off on June 12 with our old friends, Chuck and Alice (John’s godmother), flying Alaska Airlines down to P.V.  Can’t say as I have any complaints about the airline.  In fact, they offer a “Mediterranean” lunch box that is pretty darn good.  Much better than anything that Southwest offers.  Hummus, olives, multigrain chips, pure fruit strip, almonds, and a square of dark chocolate.  Yum!  The 3 hour flight passed quickly with the Sunday Times to wade through, including the crossword.  We left in about 60 degree weather in LA, and landed in 90 degree heat and humidity in PV.  It was like someone threw a blanket over us. 

Meghan had prepared detailed instructions for working through immigration, customs, and the taxi gauntlet.  Of course, I left them on the counter at home.  About all I remembered was to avoid the beseeching cabbies inside the airport, and go to the stand at the exit.  I & C were very polite and relatively smooth.  The taxi gauntlet was anything but.  How many times can you waive your hand and say no, gracias?  About a thousand.  We got to the correct stand, had a coronary when I misread $ as standing for dollars instead of pesos, and eventually forked over about USD$45 for the 4 of us to minivan our way to the villas, about a 30 minute trip.

The minivans quickly became our preferred transportation.  They almost all seemed in newer condition than the cars, and were much more comfortable for carrying four or more people.  At times, we got mega-mini’s that carried 14 of us!  Just about every place in PV will accept $USD, so we didn’t exchange any money at the airport bandits.  Of course, the cab banditos had their own fluid exchange rates.  Officially, we were at 12 pesos to the dollar, but anything other than an ATM got you more like 10. 

And, before we go off to Paris in the fall, I definitely will open a Capital One account and get their ATM card.  They don’t charge a transaction fee or take a percentage.  Bank of effing America, on the other hand, charged us $5USD for each foreign ATM transaction, plus a 1% currency or something fee.  I dunno, it wasn’t spelled out on my bill.  The first time I tried to use the ATM, I didn’t understand the screen, and withdrew $11.85.  I got charged $5-plus by BofA for that amount.  To withdraw my own money!  Fortunately, John gave me some Spanish instruction on my next withdrawal, so at least I got a decent amount of money for my fees.  Die, BofA, die!

The airport is on the north side of town, our villas on the south, so we got to traverse pretty much the entirety of PV on our way there.  As it is backed by steep mountains, it’s a long, thin city stretching along the coast.  It’s an ok place, but the town itself isn’t much to look at.  The real beauty was in our villas and the fantastic views from them.  John & Meghan negotiated hard to get good rates on four villas located in the upscale (I’ll say!) Conchas Chinas area, about 5 bedrooms each, for the 34 in the wedding party.  Three of them were together, way up the hill, and the fourth was below them.  They all have names; ours was Villa Casa Serafines.  Here’s the view from our bedroom, which just about says it all:

Not too shabby.  Nor was the rest of the place.  The outside is all high-walled off from the street.  The entry is to an atrium courtyard with a fountain.  It’s open to the sky, and the upstairs bedrooms are arrayed around the balcony.  A nice spiral staircase takes you up.  Our bedroom sported a painted-metal headboard that was really cool.  We spent a lot of time in that infinity pool.  Looking over the edge was an adventure, as you’re looking straight down about a hundred feet.  I hope the structural engineers knew their stuff.  All that water is tons of weight.

Each villa had its own staff that did daily cleaning and meals.  We ate mighty fine, although we were guacamole’d out by the end of the week.  They did make the palest margueritas I’ve ever seen.  That’s a surprisingly good non-alcoholic beer at the left.  I’d like to see that imported.  Actually, the hardest working chef of the week was Janet, Meghan’s mom.  She orchestrated a fabulous meal for the whole group, seen at the lower right.

I can’t say enough about the staffs.  They were all just great.  Always smiling, always trying to please, and very expert at their jobs.  No slackers!  Ole!

The “kids” villa was equally fantastic.  Theirs was four stories tall, had a similar view, a really circular staircase, fancy bedrooms, interior courtyards and balconies, and a nice pool for Mike and Alia to laze about in.  Yes, sigh, that’s another new tattoo on his left arm. 

We had some of our meals in,

but went out four nights (including the wedding).  First up was Cafe de Olla which is a lively, casual place.  The food was good, but not to rave about, and priced fairly.  A great place for a large party to make a lot of noise and not worry about offending.  For the curious, from r to l, Loni, Meghan, M’s cousin, Dr. Sammy, her fiance, Dr. Mike, M’s aunt Susan (Sammy’s mom), M’s Uncle (Dr.) Art, M’s dad, Dr. Barry, John, and Liz, fiancee of John’s best friend Mike, who are getting married almost as I type this, in Chicago.  John & Meghan are going.  We had plenty of medicos to treat any ailments that sprang up.  Good thing Barry packed a virtual pharmacy in his luggage.

The days took on a common theme.  Kickin’ back.  That’s Meghan’s mom, the indefatigable Janet, in the pool with Loni.  Mike and John with brewskis.  The corpse needs no introduction.

Our second dinner out was the “immediate family” dinner, with John & Meghan, Mike & Alia, Art and Janet, Meghan’s sister Ashley and husband Kyle, and us.  We went to Le Kliff Restaurante, about 30 minutes south of our villas, on a rock promontory over the ocean.  This is a famed wedding spot and a very romantic restaurant.  It is all al fresco, with a huge thatched roof.  We got the primo seating, courtesy of J&M’s good planning and the fact this is off season.  Our party made up the majority of the guests that evening.  The weddings are held on that little peninsula, down below the restaurant.  Only Barry managed to hike down to check it out.  The rest of us tucked into good food and drink and we spent nearly three hours there.  It was Kyle’s birthday, hence the party hats.

 

We got a pretty nice sunset in the bargain as well.

With that, I’ll pull the shade down on this first installment of the wedding.  More to come!

HE WENT WHERE?

Okay, so my antipathy to all things opera is well known in select circles.  I have walked out on a performance at La Scala.  Had to be restrained from leaping from the balcony in Sidney.  Steel-willed my way through L.A. productions.  I just can’t stand the screeching, artificial-sounding operatic voice.  What is not so well known is that I really like massed voices:  choruses and chorales.  I guess those are one and the same.  So, while perusing the offerings in the latest email from Goldstar, the discount-ticket broker, I stumbled upon the Los Angeles Chamber Singers & Cappella performing “The Three Great Services,” a collection of pieces centering on the “Magnificat” from those services.  All are from the Tudor Era.  The first was by John Sheppard (c. 1515-1558), the next by Robert Parsons (c. 1530-1572), and the last by William Byrd (c. 1543-1623).  They sang today at the First Presbyterian Church in Santa Monica, six male voices and four female.  Mesmerizingly gorgeous.  Actually, I most enjoyed a fourth piece they included, Robert Wylkynson’s (c. 1475-1515) “Salve Regina” from the Eton Choirbook.  Talk about the rapture!  No cool-aid needed here. 

This is a top-rank group, which won a Grammy at the 49th edition a few years back for it’s

which you can sample here.  They were recording our performance of the Great Services, but it won’t be available for some time.  Anyhow, I’m not just a rock-n-roll or jazz guy.  I got kultcha, I tell you!  And no, I didn’t all of a sudden get religion.  I’m still a shallow guy:  I like the trappings without the message.