Poised and Ready

It seems incongruous to say Happy New Year when 2015 has been a year of such newness. New home. New husband. Husband's new job. New godson.  Loving supports added to my life's foundations and new beams inviting me to build up and out. 

And yet here I am in Southern Costa Rica, sweating through my shirt and watching the clumsy mating dance of scarlet macaws just off my balcony. Today I swam with turtles and jellyfish; yesterday I watched squirrel monkeys screw and a coati eat a sand crab in Corcovado National Park.  Other vacation highlights so far include learning how to make Swiss cheese from a Tico farmer named Wilber and his five cows, spotting a Scintillant Hummingbird and a Speckled Tanager in some old growth cloud forest (while providing a hearty meal to a flock of mosquitos), making it through two and a half books, tasting yet another weird Palm Fruit - the Pejibaye, which tastes confusingly like stewed black beans, and sleeping ten hours a night. 

We are about to ring in 2016 with a hand picked crew of Germans and Brits, Spaniards and Columbians and Italians, at La Finca Marésia in Bahía Drake. We booked our honeymoon very last minute, empty of planning juice after the kitchen remodel and wedding, and somehow we lucked into a New Year's Eve spot at this top rated hostel. It turns out that Juan, the owner, for whom the word jovial could have been invented, chooses his New Year's guest list to get a good mix of good people from all different countries.  He told us that he had been turning people away for months, claiming to be fully booked, waiting for the right people to fill his final cabin. No idea what in Kevin's email two weeks ago prompted him to say he had availability, but it it's pretty fucking cool. Swapping stories of travel and life with a bunch of interesting strangers over Imperials seems an auspicious way to kick off the year. 

While I am starting off 2016 in a far off jungle, what I'm really looking forward to this year is burrowing my roots and stretching my branches closer to home. Getting back into the things that have fallen by the wayside in the last couple three years of activity and stress, both good and bad. Continuing my uncharacteristic gym routine. Rediscovering my professional direction. Sprinkling spontaneous hangouts, happy hours, and dinner parties into under-planned evenings and weekends. Spending time with my intimate friends and having enough emotional space and hours in the week to cultivate some new ones too. 

So bring it on, you sexy New Year, you! We are gonna have some good old fashioned fun together. 

4:22

It's currently 8:22. I stepped off the prop jet in Labuan Bajo at about 4. This, THIS town is finally it.  Tiny. Remote. Gorgeous. Unpolished. Self assured. Love at first sight. 

Getting from the plane to the terminal involved waking out on the tarmac (fairly standard) but then through an active construction site (huh), winding up a concrete ramp with no railing or signage, scootching between a fence and the back of the terminal, and in through a door by the baggage conveyors. The terminal itself? Brand spanking new and quite stylish. Looks like the town is preparing, but not quite ready, for a serious tourist onslaught. I'm a bit skeptical about whether that's actually coming, but at least there will be a shiny new airport sometime soonish. 

Our hotel is also under construction, a buzz of saws and hammers amid bamboo scaffolding. After dropping our bags, we headed out to explore the town's single commercial strip and confirm transport out to the island resort where we'll spend the next four nights. 

So the first time we poked into the in-town office of this resort, the door was unlocked and open sign out, but nobody in sight.  Witnessing out predicament, a friendly passerby came in and walked past the counter to rap loudly on the door at the back leading to living quarters. Must be sleeping, he shrugged. We let the shopkeeper rest and walked down to check out the mosque at the end of the street.

Try two at the shop, I ventured back to knock and shout yoohoo.  Finally I heard a shower shut off and a startled naked man said hello. The guy came to the counter a few seconds later dripping wet in a towel so skimpy he was showing a V of thigh to the waist. In fairly limited English, he said he knew nothing about our boat to the island and gave us a number to call. Back at our hotel, the number was a bust - it didn't even have the right number of digits. Third time, the guy was fully clothed in a t-shirt adorned with a Komodo dragon, and he called on his cell to connect us with the home office. They'll be picking us up at our hotel at noon tomorrow. No problem. 

Then we wandered down to the docks. It's clearly a working port, with respectable piles of shipping containers and smallish boats of all sorts docked along the piers. Saw a trio of local girls gigglingly taking photos of each other in front of a flowering bush. Tourists disembarking after a dive. Teenagers playing a hard fought soccer match on a dirt field. Guys on motorbikes taking smoke breaks. 

At sunset we sat on the balcony of our little "boutique" hotel with cold Bintang beers and watched the sky and water light up lavender. The call to prayer from the local mosque filled the air with a melodic male voice.  We discussed religion and youth and the patterns on the surface of the still harbor and how deeply lucky we feel to be able to travel to such places. 

Not All Things are Profound

At least half the fun of traveling comes from the random new tastes sounds and sights. 

New fruit! Mysterious salak, like a fig covered in snake skin, the three inner lobes have the crunch  of juicy carrots and the tang of pineapple. I keep eating, but I still can't quite wrap my mind around them. I'm sure that I love them, though! Sadly they seem confined to a few Indonesian and Malaysian islands. And milk fruit on the side of the road visiting Cambodian ruins, it's purple and white flesh tastier for the eyes than tongue.  And a return to my sweet shiny yellow love, jackfruit, reminiscent of Fruit Loops in the best possible way (which I promise is way better than you think). And mangosteen, many different varieties of tiny sweet banana, passion fruit, pineapple, and on and on. 

Listening to two Balinese men with guitars in a cafe decorated with Mucha prints and dreamcatchers while sipping hot water steeped with slices of fresh ginger and stalks of lemongrass and honey. 

A red bean ice cream sandwich shaped like a fish. And chewy corn flavored milk candies. And home made bagels and convincing burritos  in Bali. And an airport meal of tofu and tempeh with sweet soy sauce.  

Learning that Cambodia seems to operate on the U.S. Dollar, which is what the ATMs dispense and how everything is priced (local currency used for change, 1000 bill = 25 cents). And watching people in a Thai parking garage roll out of the way the car parked behind them and left in neutral to to maximize space. And learning to pronounce the j in Labuan Bajo, where we will be departing to shortly, our jumping off point for exploring Komodo National Park. There be dragons. . . 

Speedboat to 2015

The planks over the sloshing water on the bottom of this boat bend under my weight when I try to climb back to give the hyperventilating German teenager room to sit. She's been visibly distressed since 25 of us scrambled aboard a different wooden boat 45 minutes ago, the deck pitching violently in the waves. And now, after a splashy 20 min ride to moor against a speed boat where we are swapping out half our passengers, a short float over to this more decrepit boat, and half an hour of bobbing in the waves, she has descended into full on tears and shaking knees. Why did her seemingly very nice family drag their aquaphobic daughter to this paradise of tiny islands in the Andaman Sea. Someone empties out a plastic bag of seashells and give it to her to breath in and out of. I'm pretty sure that works better with a paper bag.

We had booked a speed boat to Koh Lanta, not a couple of hours marooned on a floating jalopy with happy snorkelers paddling nearby, but when on an adventure, this is all part of the fun.

Yesterday we were the ones laying serenely face down and staring at tropical wonders through snorkel masks. Cuttlefish and Nemo-fish. A profusion of live coral - waving and grassy, undulating midnight blue lips that contracted into themselves when I dove down near, tangles of stags horns and shelves like mushrooms on a rotting log. Fish with all manner of stripes and polka dots and electric blue fins and needle noses and tendrils rising from their backs. 

I've now been lifted aboard the 45 passenger speed boat we booked (I think) by two Thai boatmen who I easily outweigh combined. I caught a smile flit across the lips of the poor German girl before we started moving, only to be followed by one last bout of fetal shaking, finally put to rest by a studly yet kind stranger engaging her in conversation. She was not the only one relieved. 

2014 brought more satisfying highs, prolonged lows, and Major Life Events than I have experienced in a long while. On balance, I am more than happy to sacrifice the year's last 15 hours to the international date line and kickoff 2015. No arguing that last year ended on an idyllic note, though. Morning swim through 80 meter sea cave to reach a beachy grotto aptly described as Emerald Cave. A seemingly delightful Thai woman digging her elbows into my spine, feet into my thighs, knees into my buttocks, fingers into my eye sockets. A round of Citadels with people at the loving core of my life. All in a tropical paradise.

And I have a great feeling about 2015. At sunset on the 1st, the sea cradled me under sky and cliff and moon, the last light of this new year iridescent on the ripples. 

Another Night in Bangkok

I pursue the new. In all my intercontinental traveling, I have never returned to the same city. Until now. 

At 24 I felt fully formed and independent, packed with personality and opinions, a self sufficient adventurer tackling Southeast Asia for a month before beginning law school. Looking back, I wonder whether I really had any idea who I was. 

If anything was clear, I was a New Yorker. Having made my first home there after college and lived through the metropolitan-scale crucible of September 11 (trust me, it was different being there), New York was in my blood and psyche.  While The City is an indelible part of me and still feels affirmingly homey when I visit, it's becoming harder and hard to envision my current self as a part of it. My roots are now sunk deeply on the other coast in a city that quaintly also deems itself "the."  

Two weeks before I left New York I kissed another man for the first time. Though I had imagined the moment for years, the sandpaperyness of Ignacio's stubble against my skin, came as an unexpected shock that still lingers at the base of my spine.  Shakira belted out of cheap computer speakers. Stories of the exploration that was to come are better shared over a bottle of wine, perhaps in the home that I will soon be nested into withy fiancé, a word that still refuses to roll off my fingers. 

Law school had not retrained my brain. My desire to fight for sexual and racial equality still roiled aspirationally. I had yet to meet many friends who have changed my outlook and who I carry at the core of my being. My parents, at least a couple of them, were still married, to each other. I had a nearly full set of living grandparents. And on and on. 

 I was still questing. Pushing my boundaries to see what I really liked. What and who I despised. What felt so thrilling and self affirming that I wanted to build my life around it. And what inexplicably left me  isolated and insecure, even though it seemed like fun. 

On my first trip to Bangkok I remember laying alone at night in a tiny undecorated Koh San road hostel, having fled a cafe showing a bootlegged copy of AI after feeling marginal amongst backpackers who all seemed to form effortless drunken bonds. Wandering through Patpong, intrigued and terrified. A road trip to Ayutthaya with a relative of a friend's uncle's wife, slowly realizing that perhaps he had hoped his granddaughter and I might hit it off as more than just day trip companions. The joy of sightseeing with a pair of British nurses who I had met in Laos the week before, glowingly pleased at random improbable connections in a chaotic world. 

I lay down now to sleep in the cozy home of my friend's parents, with my boyfriend on the trundle bed next to me, thrumming at what Bangkok (and a half dozen brand new places) will be like this time, with me as I have evolved and solidified over the last twelve years. 

I Can Cello That

In my ongoing quest to become a real life Portlandia character, I've adopted an "I can cello that" attitude.  And I don't mean pulling my bow across some strings to entertain the ears.  I'm talking about throwing whatever I can find into everclear and mixing it with sugar syrup to entertain the taste buds.  Today's victim: green almonds.

Acquired on an unfortunately rare trip to Berkeley Bowl last weekend, these green almonds cried out to me from the exotic fruit isle (which always seems like gilding the lily at a grocery store with seven kinds of mango and at least that many different types of apricot in the "regular" sections).  Green almonds are only around for a couple weeks every year, and when I spotted them my first thought was "you need to get into a 151-proof bath, ASAP, my pretties."  A quick google search on my phone turned up plenty of recipes for infusions of green walnuts to make nocino, but bubkas on using green almonds (other than for syrup, which didn't seem nearly intoxicating enough).  

Fifty-five green almonds came home with me from the store (for a whopping $2.50 - extortion I say!), and, undeterred by lack of internet instructions, I proceeded to cello the hell out of them.  Everclear in mason jar?  Check.  Giant cleaver to cleave these babies in half?  Check.  Half a cinnamon stick, half a vanilla bean, and a few strips of zest from a lemon picked from our backyard to complexify the flavor a bit?  Check, check, and check.  Given that I don't know how or how strongly flavored a green almond infusion will be, I decided to forego the wide array of other flavorings people seem to add to nocino, from cloves to wine.  

And now we wait.  One pleasant surprise after a few days of infusing is the color.  While green walnuts apparently produce a pitch black liqueur, my green almond experiment is still a lovely chartreuse.  If this holds up, I'll be a very happy camper.  Updates to come once infusion, proofing down, and aging have been completed.  

Mangledfont Opines

FUTURE OF THE BAY AREA: DRAFT PLAN FOR REGION SERIOUSLY FLAWED

By: Sam Tepperman-Gelfant, Kit Vaq and the Rev. Scott Denman

San Jose Mercury News, May 24, 2013

Something exciting is afoot in the Bay Area. Hundreds of people, working together across traditional divides, have crafted a plan expressing an innovative vision for our region's future. And last month, we learned this community plan would create a greener, more prosperous and fairer future than the plan created by "experts" in regional government.

The challenge now is getting elected officials in regional agencies to listen.

In July, the Metropolitan Transportation Commission and the Association of Bay Area Governments will decide how to spend $289 billion in transportation funds and plan for 2 million new residents over the next 28 years. Under a new state law, SB 375, this regional transportation and land-use plan must reduce greenhouse gases 15 percent by 2035.

When dozens of community groups gathered at the start of this planning process three years ago, there was real danger that fighting for a piece of the pie would tear people apart. Instead, environmentalists and civil rights activists, homeowners and homeless advocates, faith leaders, public health experts and union members came together to fight for a regional plan that grows the pie.

They learned from each other and developed a shared set of priorities for the region: more money for public transportation and less for new highways; more affordable homes near low-wage jobs and good schools; and stronger protections against gentrification and displacement. These shared principles formed the basis of the "Equity, Environment and Jobs" scenario, a community alternative to the draft regional plan developed by ABAG and MTC. End result? A plan that runs a lot more transit service, puts more affordable housing near suburban job centers and protects families from displacement.

The regional agencies' draft "preferred" plan is in dire need of improvement. It puts 36 percent of struggling renters at high risk of being evicted from their neighborhoods. It wastes billions of dollars that could go to operate more local transit. And the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development has expressed concern the regional housing plan may violate civil rights laws.

The alternative scenario offers a better blueprint for moving our region toward the best future for all Bay Area residents, including struggling families. Plus, it's the "environmentally superior alternative." That's according to MTC/ABAG's own analysis.

In embodying the core vision of SB 375 — more people living closer to better transit and jobs — our scenario outperforms the preferred draft in a host of areas. Models show lower greenhouse gas emissions, almost twice as many low-income residents able to stay in their neighborhoods, 83,000 cars off clogged roads leading to 165,000 more trips on public transit every day.

Unfortunately, MTC and ABAG commissioners may ignore the evidence and barrel forward with their flawed draft. Why? Some cite "fatigue" with the planning process. Others are unnecessarily concerned about a vocal minority shouting that climate change is a hoax and regional planning a United Nations conspiracy. And others think the current draft is "good enough."

Bay Area residents deserve more than "good enough." MTC and ABAG can turn a flawed draft into a final plan we can all be proud of, by incorporating three key elements of our alternative scenario: 1) maximize funding for public transit operations and provide a regional free youth bus pass; 2) strengthen incentives and policies to protect struggling families from displacement; and 3) reallocate housing more fairly throughout the region.

The voting members of MTC and ABAG are our local elected officials. In July they'll decide whether to adopt a plan that reflects the broad community consensus, or one that comes up short. We're asking them to make the right choice.

Sam Tepperman-Gelfant is a senior staff attorney at Public Advocates Inc. Kit Vaq is chairperson of ACCE Riders for Transit Justice. The Rev. Scott Denman is president of the Genesis Interfaith Regional Project. They wrote this for the San Jose Mercury News.

Happy Fifth Birthday, BookClubSF!

Inspired by a book group I was in back in Philadelphia, I started BookClubSF shortly after moving to San Francisco five years ago.  The idea was to connect with friends, connect friends with each other, and keep myself reading interesting books - and that's exactly what happened.  Over the past five years, a couple dozen rotating members have read and discussed 30 books. While readers have come and gone as they moved in and out of San Francisco, passed in and out of busy periods at work, or had kids (3!), some truths have remained constant: reading is always rewarding (even when the book is bad); discussing a book usually deepens your experience of the text, the friends you discuss it with, and yourself; wine, bread, and cheese go great with literature; benevolent informed dictatorships can work out OK.  Over the next five years I look forward to more great books, more probing discussions, more new members, and perhaps even welcoming back a parent or two.  

Here's our reading list.  It includes some exceptional highs (Kafka on the Shore, Appointment in Samarra, Cloud Atlas, White Noise) and some unfortunate lows (Evidence of Things Unseen, I'm looking at you!).   

The Warmth of Other Suns, by Isabel Wilkerson, February 19, 2013

A Working Theory of Love, by Scott Hutchins, December 13, 2012
Telegraph Avenue, by Michael Chabon, November 1, 2012
Under the Volcano, by Malcom Lowry, August 28, 2012
If on a Winter's Night a Traveler, by Italo Calvino, May 22, 2012
The Untouchable, by John Banville, October 20, 2011
A Single Man, by Christopher Isherwood, September 6, 2011
Everything is Illuminated, by Jonathan Safran Foer, July 26, 2011
A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again, by David Foster Wallace, June 9, 2011
The Maltese Falcon, by Dashiell Hammett, April 7, 2011
Cloud Atlas, by David Mitchell, January 20, 2011
Kindred, by Octavia Butler, October 28, 2010
Crossing to Safety, by Wallace Stegner, September 9, 2010
The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, by Rebecca Skloot July 1, 2010
Let the Great World Spin, by Colum McCann May 6, 2010
Never Let Me Go, by Kazuo Ishiguro, March 11, 2010
The Women of Brewster Place, by Gloria Naylor, February 4, 2010
Darkness at Noon, by Arthur Koestler November 17, 2009
A Wild Sheep Chase: A Novel, by Haruki Murakami, September 17, 2009
Appointment in Samarra, by John O’Hara, August 6, 2009
The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, by Junot Díaz, June 25, 2009
White Noise, by Don DeLillo, March 19, 2009
Ficciones, by Jorge Luis Borges, February 12, 2009
Then We Came to the End, by Joshua Ferris, October 30, 2008
Kafka on the Shore, by Haruki Murakami, September 23, 2008
Botany of Desire, by Michael Pollan, August 5, 2008
The Road, by Cormac McCarthy, June 25, 2008
Dreams From My Father, by Barack Obama, April 10, 2008
Evidence of Things Unseen, by Marianne Wiggins, March 2, 2008
The Kite Runner, by Khaled Hosseini, January 27, 2008

Mangledfont in the News

Every city must do its part to make housing available to people of all income levels.  That's what I told the Palo Alto Daily News/San Jose Mercury News last week:

Sam Tepperman-Gelfant, a senior staff attorney for the nonprofit Public Advocates, which sued both Menlo Park and Pleasanton, said the group's intention was to ensure housing for lower-income residents.

"When it comes down to it, it's incredibly important that there are affordable housing opportunities in every city in the state," he said.

Peninsula Cities Feel the Heat to Produce More Homes 2/15/13

What Professional Organizations Can Learn from Community Orchestras

Sitting in an internet cafe in a bus station in Tallinn, Estonia, I sent in an entry to the San Francisco Symphony's blogging contest about the future of American orchestras.  And I won!  Check it out:

"Community: it’s not just a polite word for amateur, it is the heart and soul of America’s thriving non-professional symphonies. Community orchestras deftly bridge the gap between classical performance and contemporary life that presents a daunting challenge to the future of classical music in this country. Building community is all about building relationships. The web of personal connections among performers, audience members, and the music itself give these groups a consistent energy and audience that many professional groups struggle to achieve. . . ."  read more