Whittoons

TELLTALES from around the block in Ballard. More friends to be introduced over the next few weeks.

I will be introducing a few characters over the next few weeks and we shall see where their adventures lead us. Stay tooned @ Whittoons.world.

It was an Edward Hopper moment on the day we hit the streets of San Francisco. There they were – two Santas sipping Starbuck lattes on a chilly morning near Chinatown. But they were not alone. We had come to SF to get in the holiday mood but this was way bad. Everywhere you turned there were Santas, or Santa’s helpers headed for bars and mayhem. It was SantaCon. Apparently the founder of Santacon has disavowed any association with the event in its present incarnation. It has degenerated. Spirits are lifted but not the type he had in mind. It felt a little like St. Patrick’s Day when everyone claims they are Irish, but for SantaCon everyone was claiming they are Santa. And that is just not possible. One might classify this crowd as naughty and not exactly deserving of gifts under the Christmas tree.

Credit Card Bonus points bought us two nights at the Fairmont Hotel. As we walked in the doors, it was clear that this place knows how to celebrate Christmas. We had to maneuver our rolling bag through crowds of party goers taking selfies around the tree and those lounging around sipping from small bottles of Moët Champagne.

Beyond that enormous gaudy tree stands a two-story gingerbread house…made of real gingerbread. Many selfies are taken inside this fantasy space that does indeed smell of baked goods. And though a warning is posted not to indulge in grabbing a candy off the gingerbread house walls, it is clear some have not heeded this sage advice…small gaps are evident in the candy masonry.

Our friends Dawn and Peter guided us on a walk around the downtown to see the festive decor and buoyant crowds floating through Union Square after the monsoon downpour of the afternoon.

AstroTurf was spread out down a block for a Christmas Market in front of Gucci and Hermes. The Union Square ice rink had a small crowd skating round and round…and around…and around. Windows displayed high end couture outfits with manikins stargazing through ancient telescopes and fondling globes. Tiffany had tiny white mice dashing through the snow near sparkling diamonds.

Gumps had a little more traditional look in its small windows. A bit retro and sentimental…but we needed a touch of that.

Our only disappoint was that the Tonga Room was booked for private parties both nights. We have consumed powerful tropical drinks on the deck of a ship in the Tonga Room before, and ordered a dessert shaped like a volcano that blew off whiffs of smoke. The band floats out on a barge into the middle of the artificial sea and a thunderstorm passes over with rain cascading from the ceiling. Tahiti it is not, nor the Cook Islands but all together a must see if you happen to visit the Fairmont some evening.

As we left San Francisco and the Fairmont Hotel after a whirlwind visit, we paid our respects to Tony Bennett and hummed a few bars of “I left my heart in San Francisco” –

“ I left my heart in San Francisco, high on a hill it calls to me, to be where little cable cars climb halfway to the stars!”

Halloween 2019 brought 80-95 trick or treaters (depending on who is counting in our neighborhood). Reaching this number took years of planning and preparation…and building a reputation as the house that gives away full size candy bars.  With three flights of stairs to our front door, we had to offer some extra incentives.

When we moved in to this neighborhood in 1992, nothing was going on so Michele and I started up annual celebrations: summer block party with movie nights, Memorial Day and Labor Day pancake breakfasts, Christmas caroling, pumpkin carving and Halloween decorating.  Our first few Halloweens lured only a handful of children so we decided to up the game. Michele came up with a ghost theme for the neighborhood and not just any ghosts, but those from history and literature that haunt one’s memories: Miss Haversham from Great Expectations, The Headless Horsemen from the Legend of Sleepy Hollow, Bloody Mary, Freda Kahlo among others.  Neighbors generously donated their yards for the sets and pitched in to help create the scenes.

With styrofoam heads from Joanne’s and cheap wigs and some clothing from Display and Costume, the characters emerged.  Michele created various outfits and sets.  I was the make-up artist.  I learned with time that I could mold the styrofoam just enough to develop brows, distinct noses, high cheekbones, unique lips and chins.   A touch of red around the neck, across the face and voila, decapitated heads.

Red ribbon works marvelously as spurting blood. I was inspired by Caravaggio’s Judith and Holofernes – a gruesome depiction of sweet revenge.

Warning the image is graphic and is rated PG.

You might be thinking this will give little children nightmares and permanently damage them with PTSD.   This is nothing compared to the images brought to us down from the medieval ages – images of tortured saints that we were exposed to in Spain.  Those museums and churches don’t offer any warning about the gory details.   Think of what the naive children of the 15th century Catholic world had to suffer when instructed on the lives of the Saints.

Lady Haversham is not designed to scare…only haunt with the image of a jilted bride and her lust for revenge.

And Freda Kahlo…well if you don’t  know the back story of her being impaled in a bus accident and spending years recovering and incorporating her damaged frame into her imagery…well then you may lose the reference to the horror of survival.

Our headless horseman has moved between trees over time but is lit to startle the young and amuse the old, riding on the black horse and tossing the pumpkin through the air.

Next year who should appear?  I believe that Long John Silver may shiver a few timbers. So a fair warning to all, he may be handing out the black spot.  Be afraid…be Very Afraid.

This would be my second farewell to Sydney since my days as a supernumerary steward on the Manutea in 1973.   At that time,  the Manutea crew spent a month in Sydney as the ship was fitted out for a charter to supply the Freeport mine in Iryan Jaya (now West Papua).  During the day, I sometimes wandered in the City.  (Some older guy stalked me in a square and offered me a job…I cut him off saying I was already employed.) On other days I ordered and stored our food supplies for our three week course to Iryan Jaya.  I often took the night shift when we were docked.  And frequently the Captain, a wayfarer of old who was drinking himself into oblivion, would ask me to keep him company in his cabin and talk about world affairs. He was lonely, craved good conversation and missed the island life.  And after he nearly ran us aground rounding the tip of Queensland, he was sent home.  [I will post a page at a later date about this trip out of a Joseph Conrad novel.]

As one can see from the photo of the gentrified pier, much has changed in Sydney harbor. Now all the docks have been converted condos and restaurants, and marinas afford space for luxury yachts.  A waterfront building has transformed into an new arts center.  No able bodied seafarers in sight.

For our last night in Sydney, Michele and I went to see HAIR at the Sydney Opera House.  West Side Story was also playing.  It is fascinating how many restaurants and institutions were playing American music, mostly from the 70’s and 80’s.   Australian cultural ties to America seem to be stronger than the ties to England, even if they still drive on the left side of the road.

Though the production of HAIR was given a dismal review by the local paper, we enjoyed letting the sun shine in with peace and love.

It has been a whirlwind trip, sampling various places and trying to catch a glimpse of various facets of Australia.  Next time perhaps we can stay a while in Darwin and get to know the outback again.

Intent on Stalking the Wild Platypus, we landed in Hobart and mapped out our expedition.  We only had a few days to explore the wilds of Tasmania…and the towns too.

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Michele took a flight to spot the Wiley Platypus.  The Hobart information center gave us some leads and we were off.

A cross country trek brought us to Latrobe. By the looks of it, this place was the heart of platypus land.

Or at least the heart of promotion for platypus country.

Yet after a long walk along the nearby river and around Platypus Pond, no creatures appeared.  After a flood in 2011 and again in 2016, the walkways got wiped out…and I suspect so did much of the platypus population.

We did find some fine local chocolates with a platypus image molded on to the surface.  That would have to do for now.

So we returned to Hobart, a three hour drive past hundreds and hundreds of sheep, one windmill and the Bagdad Cafe.

On the advice of locals, we rose early for our next attempt.  We drove to Richardson to a site sure to reveal the platypus at 6:30 in the morning.

It was a haven for ducks…but not a platypus to be seen.  Michele asked an older gentleman walking his dog if he had seen any and he said, “Never, only eels.” SO we headed to the local cafe to commiserate.

Bonorong Wildlife Sanctuary offered some close up and personal contact with local wildlife so we made do with Tasmanian Devils, Frogmouths, and kangaroos.

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The sanctuary kangaroos are an indulged lot.  All visitors walk around with a bags of grain and those Roos that are not sleeping in the sun (or shade) may hop over to you in slow motion and nibble from your hand.

Our last chance to sight a platypus might be the Mt Field National Park.  Before heading into the park we took a side trip up to Lake Pedder, part of a four lake  and two dam hydroelectric complex.

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This higher country landscape looked like the Alaska tundra and barren except near the forest hugging the shore.  A large burn added to the sense of remote desolation.

Finally we made it to Mt Field and an easy hike up the the falls.

As the crepuscular light touched the forest, we sat near a stream close to the park picnic area and waited.  And what should appear for five seconds but a real, wild platypus!  A brief glimpse, that unfortunately Michele missed, but a sighting none the less.

Melbourne does not suffer from crane envy.  It has almost as many as Seattle.  The City appears to be booming and those from Melbourne are very proud of their city.  At the Ningaloo Park site where we spent two nights, Melbourne guests kept dissing Perth every time we mentioned the place.   Most Aussies are descendants of convicts so I am not sure why the disrespect for fellow citizens since all are from the stock or stockade as the case may be.

Now one thing in Melbourne’s favor is that they seem to have preserved some of the old architecture as they have built up like crazy.

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Across from the station, we entered the Ian Potter NGV to view two shows of photography by women- Petrina Hicks: Bleached Gothic show and Olympia: Photographs by Polixeni Papatetrou.

Petrina Hicks

Petrina Hicks

Polixeni Papapetroui

Polixeni Papapetrou

Olympia, the daughter of the late Polixeni Papapetrou, and the model in the two photographs above, was present for the first day of the show.   We noticed a certain fixation on the Alice In Wonderland story by several modern Australian artists.  Maybe, being Down Under in the land of marsupials and prehistoric birds, people feel they are often down the rabbit hole surrounded by Stranger Things.

Among the work by indigenous artists, it was notable that several artists were seeing the world differently and using new medium of neon and graffiti:

Brook Andrew: Buuga-Buuga

Redo Rennie: Initiation

[Brook Andrew: Buuga-Buuga, and Reko Rennie: Initiation]

Across the river and we had just enough time for a visit to NGV International for the Terra-cotta Warriors: Guardians of Immortality, Cali Guo-Qiang: The Transient Landscape exhibit:

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Throughout the Terra-cotta Warriors exhibit, Cali Guo-Qiang has suspended 10,000 porcelain birds portraying the calligraphic drawing of the sacred Mount Li, the site of the tomb of China’s first emperor, Qin Shihuang, and his terracotta warriors.

We missed the KAWS: Companionship in the Age of Loneliness show, but below is an example of Brian Donnelly’s work in the main hall.  Comic Pieta maybe?

Meals in Melbourne were in two very different worlds also: Chin Chin for lunch and Entrecôte for dinner:

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A gentleman at the next table at Entrecôte cut his hand on a broken wine glass, and I pulled out a bandaid from one of my many jacket pockets and came to the rescue.  The second time having a bandaid was of assistance. (Last time was on the light rail from Adelaide to Largs and a teen cut his hand.)  The Boy Scout in me survives…even though I never achieved Eagle status.

You land at an Aussie Air Force base when heading to Ningaloo National Park.  No photos permitted. Originally it was an American base when the US found it had a gap in its submarine communication system.  So they built transmission towers taller than the Empire State Building in a grid at the end of the remote, desolate desert peninsula.  American cars were imported, and everyone drove on the right side of the road. And a town rose up in Exmouth and eventually the Aussies took over…and returned to driving on the left side of the road.

After getting the keys to our rental Toyota Corolla, we found ourselves to be the last in the airport. It was deserted. Just a little creepy.  We headed north to Exmouth with a vast blue bay to the east and to the west, – rough hewn hills warn down over eons.

Breakfast was at the Social Society Cafe where they served everything vegetarian…and sold vegan dog food.  You can hear the dingos laughing like hyenas over that.  Actually there are warning signs about dingos up here though we did not heard any yipes in the night.

Past the tip of the peninsula, we could see the turquoise water to the west in brief glimpses through the low dunes along the coast.

[Note the submarine communication towers in the photo off to the right.]

Just arriving at our “camping” destination Sal Salis Ningaloo Reef, and like magic a humpback breached just past the reef.   A nice orientation.

Our stay was brief but we managed to snorkel twice, drifting with the current just off the beach over coral and multiple varieties of colorful fish.  While kayaking we floated over a sea turtle and startled a reef shark.   At night, we walked down to the beach, stretched out on the beach furniture…and watched the infinite stars above us.

Conversations over meals came in all varieties from political, to health policy and homelessness. And travel.  Our fellow campers seem to have been everywhere.  Taking the first Northeast Passage Cruise, riding helicopters to resorts for Christmas on the Barrier Reef,  arriving to much hoopla in Yangon on the first cruise ship to dock at their port, and on and on.  No travel envy here.  Several fellow campers were from Melbourne…and without much to say on the positive side for Perth.  “Nothing to see in Perth!”

Our base camp in Adelaide was an historic site, Largs Hotel, about 20 minutes by light rail from downtown. Right on the water and near the Largs Pier, this spot was valiantly holding on as an icon of a vibrant time of beach frolicking and fun.   Now it hosted a tiny casino and a bottle shop around back.  A bar and large restaurant still brings a few visitors and to be fair, this was a cool spring week and not conducive to beach frolicking.

A short flight on a jet prop took us to Kangaroo Island where we were met by a tour guide Michael and a 4 wheel drive Toyota Land Cruiser.  Almost immediately our guide showed himself to be a acute observer.  Cruising down the main road across the island, he quickly swerved off the road, did a U-turn and stopped next to a wild echidna marching down the shoulder.

Well not actually marching, more like shuffling on tiny legs and shoving his/her (really hard to tell given the coat of spines) nose into the ground smelling out bugs.  It walked right by my knee as I squatted for a photo op…echidnas are not known for a sense of hearing or sight.

A new addition to the park contains grassland from a previous farm, so this is ideal habitat for kangaroos. Much of the older park has not be managed with fire, so is very overgrown and not suitable for Roos.  Several Roos were carrying around joeys. In surprising one or two, the young joeys nibbling on grass would dive headfirst into their mother’s pouch, then peer at us from the comfort of home as we drove by.

Our tour included dashing to sites between rain showers.  Lunch was served under shelter after walking through the woods spotting Koalas.  Koalas were brought to the island to rebuild their numbers, and they have now overpopulated the habitat.  Michael spotted three Koalas in one eucalyptus tree.  That is not good.  Usually it is one to a tree where they gradually … very gradually, eat all the leaves…and then move on.  Since it would be cause a huge uprising by animal lovers if they thinned the population by hunting and transporting them back to the mainland is exorbitant, the authorities have started to sterilize the cute little buggers.

At the Arches, the leaned into the wind to make it down to wooden platforms to see the enormous erosion that produced the natural arch.  Below were fur seal pups jockeying for position of repose.

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Though one mother was not too pleased with an interloper interrupting feeding time. We later learned that this fur seal population had invaded the island and gobbled up all the fairy penguins.

Final stop was at the Remarkable Rocks.  While utilizing a toilet at the site, a hail storm swept through and so I made what seemed like the logical decision to stay sheltered while Michele felt obligated to save Michael from the storm.  He was waiting for us out in the weather facing the onslaught. Both got completely soaked. Michele returned to the car to change into some Ibis wool underwear I had brought, while Michael persevered and lead me around the Remarkable Rocks.

Our flight back was not exactly smooth. Flight attendants stayed seated for the roller coaster ride.