Eccentric Flower:199904/field report part three
From Eccentric Flower
 |
april twenty-fifth field report (part three) (cont.) On Saturday, we met up with our friend bc and his friend Lisa. The four of us had very nifty dim sum in Oakland's Chinatown, and I copied down some characters I intend to look up when I get home. (The street signs are bilingual!) We goofed around in the Chinese groceries for a while - every time I go in one, it occurs to me that they're scaled for people who tend to be smaller than I am. I love them, but I always feel like I'm a bull in a china shop. Then we went to the day's main scheduled event: The Exploratorium. The Exploratorium, truth be told, didn't do anything special for me. It's a very good science museum ... but Boston has a good one too, you know, and I've been in a lot of science museums and after a while you have seen all the usual exhibits. I enjoyed it, but it was the enjoyment of seeing old friends, not the enjoyment of new experiences. The Tactile Dome, though - now that was new. Available by reservation only, you walk and crawl and climb through a completely unlit, twisty space that is lined and bedecked with various materials. It is a real trip - assuming you're not too broad of girth (I'm a rail, and there was one corner even I had trouble with) and you don't have back problems or claustrophobia. If you're not sure whether you have claustrophobia, go through the Tactile Dome and you will surely find out. After the Exploratorium, I asked to be driven across the Golden Gate Bridge, which is nearby. I love the way this bridge looks in closeup - the design of everything is so 1930's! The fog was rolling in heavily but it was a really beautiful ride. You know those police call boxes you sometimes see along the sides of the highway? Well, the bridge had those - but the signs by the phones indicated that, in addition to the usual assistance, they also provided "crisis counseling." Nonelvis commented on how this was a good idea. bc responded, "Yes, they passed 2000 a short time ago." I was literally not connecting the dots - I didn't understand what they were talking about. Then I got it. Honestly, I didn't think people ever really killed themselves by jumping off bridges. I thought that was just like a movie cliché or something. We drove up the Pacific coast a very short stretch, looking for dinner, and went to the Musee Mecanique, a collection of antique fortunetelling machines, games, player pianos, nickelodeons, et cetera - all coin-operated, most working. It was really amazing, and best of all no one tried to activate Laughing Sal the whole time we were there. The Cliff House above had way too long a wait for dinner, so after driving around trying to find it for a while, we ended up at the Tonga, which is restaurant in a hotel with a semi-gimmicky Polynesian theme. I usually decry food-as-entertainment, but it seemed right. I haven't had mixed drinks with fruit juice in years, but both Nonelvis and I had the drink in a pineapple ... and since I was obviously going over the top into touristy, I ordered the glowing pink sweet and sour pork, a dish I haven't had in some fifteen years. I liked it better when I was a kid. Too sweet for me now. It's funny. Originally these "Polynesian" restaurants were big because they were novel, and because Americans didn't know any better - they didn't know how fake it was. Now we know what real island food is like ... and we may even have eaten it. But we still go to these Trader Vic's style restaurants, knowing how fake they are ... for their kitsch value. We've lapsed into post-modernist irony. We got home so late from the restaurant that we collapsed instantly. I didn't have problems sleeping on either Friday or Saturday night (and on Friday night three people were playing bang-bang computer games outside the bedroom door)! This is most unusual, and although the bed is very nice, I suspect it's mostly because I've been running around so much for the last two days. It wouldn't be a vacation if I didn't come back from it more exhausted than when I left ...
© columbine |
