Spring Break: LONDON (3 weeks in US/UK/US)

In London, we went to quite a few churches including St Martin in the Fields - where Curt sketched a baptism font - and St Paul's cathedral. St Martin in the Fields turned out to be a unexpectedly sweet little place that we'd never been to before (but had heard its name many times when listening to classical music). The interior was friendly, with a gorgeous crypt underneath, and I especially liked the stained glass window that warped into the shape of a cross. The volunteer was exceptionally friendly, too, which is not necessarily a good thing for Curt while he's sketching. The man kept coming over and telling Curt interesting but unwanted stories about the origins of the font, railing, and chest. While sketching, Curt is always zoned out and dislikes interruptions, so it's my job as The Artist's Personal Assistant to get rid of people who try to strike up conversations.

We also went to lots of museums, including the Tate Modern, the National Gallery, the Courtauld Gallery (a nice little museum with a great collection of Cezannes), and the British Museum (to see the Rosetta Stone, and to see the Elgin Marbles which were stolen from the Parthenon).

We enjoyed our tour of Parliament, but a fire alarm went off while we were there so everyone had to evacuate, including the MPs and Lords. I shamelessly snapped this photo of Lord Sebastian Coe (former Olympian and head of the 2012 London Olympic committee) while he was evacuated with us. By the way, entering Parliament was the only time we had to go through a security check. In comparison, every museum, government building, and even the Statue of Liberty requires a security check in America.


In addition, we went to a musical called Jersey Boys about Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, which was full of great music.

And we went up in the London Eye to see the city, albeit on a grey day.

So it sounds like a fine time, doesn't it.
Unfortunately there were a few snafus:

The first snafu was when I washed my hair with hand lotion instead of shampoo. Yes, this may sound familiar because embarrasingly, I must admit I have done this before - on the day of my dad's memorial service. Talk about stupid.

Snafu deuxieme was that I got confused about what day it was. It wasn't until Curt showed me the newspaper that I was convinced it was really Wednesday. Sadly, we hadn't gone to the Shakespeare play that afternoon at the Globe Theatre (that I had already purchased tickets for!) because I thought it was only Tuesday. I was so mad at myself because a) it wasted money, b) it was an experience I was looking forward to and c) I felt pretty stupid. Again.

Snafu numero tres was the most harrowing. This one didn't make me feel stupid; it just made me feel pain. I got hit by a taxi cab while walking across the street. Luckily, the cab only hit my side, which spun me around. My knee and my right arm were bruised, but that was about all. I was eating a scrumptious yoghurt and pecan muffin from Pret at the time, and it went flying out of my hand onto the road.
Here's how it happened: We were a part of a mob of about 30 pedestrians who were trying to cross The Strand near Trafalgar Square. The mob all stepped off the curb and started across, so I stepped off too. Perhaps the cab was trying to run the yellow/red light? Or perhaps the mob had started out a second before the WALK signal? I just started walking with everyone else and then I felt the cab's impact. All the other pedestrians yelled at him and shook their fists so I think he was at fault. I saw my glorious muffin smashed on the street with tire marks through it and thought, that could have been me. Curt said he thought I was goners.

You might think that I got hit because I was American and therefore looking the wrong way, but remember, I've been living in New Zealand and driving on the left for 3 years now. The direction of London traffic was familiar to me. (I had more trouble when I tried to drive in Portland the following week) By the way, aren't London cabbies supposed to be the greatest ever?!? Maybe the one I encountered was talking on his cellphone instead. I don't know. He didn't really stop. But for the remainder of the trip, whenever I saw a cab, I wondered if that was the one who had hit me. And I was very careful crossing the street thereafter.

As for the muffin, we went to many more Pret-a-Manger stores and bought many more yoghurt pecan muffins over the next few weeks, but I couldn't help thinking about the poor muffin smashed somewhere on The Strand. Perhaps the pigeons appreciated it.

So London turned out to be a bit more of a challenge than Curt or I expected. Overall it just seemed too high-pressured. We were happy to get out in the countryside next.

Act 1, Scene 1: Three days in Las Vegas

First, there's the requisite 24-hour ordeal to fly from NZ to Las Vegas:
:) bought a bran muffin at the airport. Mmmmm.
:( obese man sitting next to me on the plane, who has the armrest up. I immediately put it down. Later, while I was asleep, he put it up again. I put it back down. I don't think he would have done the same thing if Curt had been sitting there instead of me. Grrrr.
:( while at LAX switching planes, am reminded how many people wear those little Bluetooth telephone earpieces. Thank goodness that trend hasn't hit NZ yet.
• Helen Mirren was in line at the security check. Also at the airport, saw that guy who plays Grissom on CSI, who ended up being on our plane. His show is filmed in Las Vegas, after all. He patiently stood for photos with fans at the Las Vegas airport while waiting for his limo driver. When I tell my students later that I saw him, they are apoplectic that I didn't have my picture taken with him.
• arrived in Las Vegas. Weather is perfect, but we're exhausted and grimy. I've found a Mrs. Fields Cookie store at the airport already. I could smell it.
:( walked from our hotel to Mandalay Bay to see our first show, Mama Mia. It's next to impossible to find the actual theater in the complex. They make you snake through the casino to get there.
:) loved Mama Mia! Perfect show to see when jet-lagged.
:( tried to buy a cup of coffee, were forced to walk through a smokey casino only to find the coffee shop overflowing with customers
:( tried again to buy coffee, were forced to walk through another smokey casino only to find the coffee shop closed
:( :( tired and frustrated and sick of being forced to walk through smokey casinos. I just want to get the hell out of there, but we keep going deeper and deeper into the maze. I finally ask a shopkeeper how to escape to some fresh air and he directs me to an emergency door that mercifully leads to the employee parking lot. Ah. Freedom.
:( :( :( I hate Las Vegas already.
:) next day, we decide to shop instead of setting foot in any casinos. Curt needs new running shoes, which are way more expensive in NZ. I need jeans. Ditto. We have some success, although ...
:( :( ... after 3 or 4 purchases in a row, my credit card is mysteriously declined. It takes us a good 24 hours hours to get this straightened out. Apparently, when we suddenly started using our (US) card after it had been lying dormant for 6 months, it triggered a security alert to make sure the card hadn't been stolen. In theory, it's a nice idea, but in this case it was complicated to un-block it. I was not happy.
? Am I being a whiner?
:( while I'm ranting, what's with all the leopard print clothes? I've been out of the country for 2 years, and didn't know it was so popular.
:( :( :( :( :( the worst part, though, is all the people handing out advertising cards for local strip shows. There are 5-10 of these people on each block, clicking and flicking their cards in an attempt to get your attention. Mostly, the cards end up all over the sidewalks which are therefore covered with porn ads 24/7. Delightful.
• am definitely whining (or as they would say in NZ, "whingeing")
:) went to the Guggenheim museum in the Venetian which was a small exhibit but contained major artists, major works. Not crowded at all. Who visits Las Vegas and goes to a museum?
:) also stopped by the Bellagio lobby to see the glass art ceiling by Dale Chihuly, a Seattle glassblower. Who visits a casino just to admire the ceiling?
:) :) went to our next show, Cirque du Soleil's homage to the Beatles called "Love." It was absolutely, fantastically, tremendously phenomenal!!! Knew all the words to all the songs, and sang along. They are so creative, using trampolines, skaters on ramps, people in and on and out of a VW Bug, blowing bubbles, suspended dancers (of course), counter-balanced ladder on a wheel with a girl on the top end, tricycle propelled by empty boots (no rider), gigantic white parachute covering the entire audience, silhouettes of the Beatles, and voice-over of them chatting in the recording studio. Way cool.
:( couldn't find our way out after the show. Why do they make it so hard to exit? Sheesh.
:) on our last day, we rented a car and drove to Hoover Dam because the dam engineer in the family wanted to see the mother of all dams. He was suitably impressed. Big turbines and intake towers and tailrace and other dam parts. Plus it was good to get out of the city.
:) on our way to the show tonight, we wandered through Caesar's Palace shopping area which was NON-SMOKING. Caesar's is my new favorite. Ate dinner at a deli there.
:) :) :) went to our last show, Spamalot. Busted our guts, laughing. Silly and funny and clever and hilarious and great. "You can't make it on Broadway without Jews" in one song, made fun of gays in another, and "There's always a song like this." Good fun.
:( one last time through the smokey casino to exit. So tired of it all. Then have to weave through all the people on the sidewalk like an obstacle course. Phew.
:) We spent 3 days here, and never gambled a cent.

My 50th birthday

Well, today is my actual birthday. Fifty. It sure seems like a really big number. I'm old.

Erica made dinner tonight and they'd stopped at the local bakery to get some fancy chocolate tarts for dessert. Mmmm. We also opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate the half-century mark. They gave me a birthday card about old people's eyesight being so bad that they can't read the fine print, but the print was so small, I couldn't read it so I didn't get the joke. Oh, the irony. They also gave me a new bomb for our collection. Curt wrote a note at the bottom of his card that said, "You look pretty good for 50, but then again, my vision isn't what it used to be." I am not kidding. He wrote that on the card.

Then we headed downtown to go see Fiddler on the Roof! Lucy had told me that her favourite part about going to the big theater downtown was the stars that lit up the ceiling, and Lara had said to look for the lion statues with glowing eyes. The theater was indeed impressive, designed like a Moorish garden, with turrets, minarets, spires and tiled roofs. It's pretty remarkable.

Fiddler on the Roof turned out to be as good as I hoped. Topol owned the character of Tevye. He was full of energy when needed, yet old and dejected when needed. His voice had lost none of its power. It was incredible. Erica's eyes were bright and sparkling throughout the performance. She loved it. Nolan would never admit it, but he liked it too. I only sang along a few times, but I couldn't help it. Who can resist Sunrise, Sunset? Or If I Were a Rich Man? Besides, I sang real quiet, under my breath. I didn't ruin the show for anyone.

Once in Portland, I actually got to sing as loud as I wanted - we went to the Sound of Music Sing Along. It was great. They had the lyrics on the screen ... but I don't need them. I know all the songs by heart. Heck, I know all the dialogue by heart! There was a costume contest during intermission and some of them were pretty creative. People had dressed up as nuns, or goatherds, or girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes. The theater also distributed a little goody bag with props: edelweiss, drapery material, and an invitation to the Baroness's party. We had a blast. If only someone would produce a Music Man sing along ... or Fiddler on the Roof sing along.

Even though I didn't get to sing If I Were a Rich Man at the top of my lungs as I would have liked, it was still a great birthday. Sadly, 50 is also still a very big number.

Birthday planning

I was turning 50 in a few days, and I wasn't sure how to celebrate it. I wasn't particularly pleased to be a half-century old. But if I could come up with something fun - something noteworthy - it might help me feel better about being so old.

PLAN A:
A revival of the musical Fiddler on the Roof happened to be in Auckland this month, starring Topol, its original Broadway star 40 years ago. I'm a sucker for musicals. I know the storylines in musicals are corny, but I still enjoy the songs and the costumes and the spectacle of it all. One of my favourites has always been The Music Man, in which the love interest is Marian the Librarian - little did I know that I would grow up to be a librarian! Plus it's about a marching band and has some good old-fashioned John Philip Sousa-type music in it. I love it.

So. Fiddler on the Roof sounded like a perfect birthday activity, except for one thing: I was worried that the star might be over the hill. Honestly, Topol must be at least 70-something now! One of the worst musical productions I ever saw was when an older, washed-up Broadway star agreed to reprise his role in Annie Get Your Gun. He was 60 or 70 at the time, and he wore a girdle/corset to cinch his belly, which was only partially reduced. The leading lady was played by a young woman in her twenties, and it was impossible to accept this pathetic old geezer as her paramour. Ew.

Because of this, I was sceptical of going to see an old star like Topol. I waited for the reviews - excellent. Word-of-mouth - glowing. One friend pointed out that since Topol was an old man playing an old man, it wouldn't be as bad as an old man playing a young man. OK. I'll go. The next step was to convince Nolan and Erica to come.

me: I was thinking of getting tickets for Fiddler on the Roof for my birthday.
Erica: Oooh! I'll go! (with glee)
Nolan: I've already seen it. (with dread)
Erica: Oh, come on, Nolan. I've never been to a play or musical. This will be great. (with excitement)
Nolan: Mom dragged us to plays and musicals every summer. (with disgust)
Erica: Really! What did you get to see? (with envy)
Nolan: EVERYTHING. Music Man. King and I. Man of LaMancha. Grease. Little Shop of Horrors. Sound of Music. Godspell. Good lord, I've seen them all. (with woe)
Erica: You're so lucky!
Nolan: Lucky? When you're a 10-year-old boy, you don't like to go to musicals, especially when your mom sings along. She sings along! (with embarrassment)
me: It's settled, then. I'll buy 4 tickets. (with a smile)

PLAN B:
Maybe I should have a party. It might make the event of turning 50 more palatable. Plus our friends would get to see Nolan and Erica one more time before they go back to America. The only thing wrong with parties is that they're always so much darn work. I only wanted to have a party if I didn't have to do any of the work. Presto. Erica would shop and cook and cater the whole thing. Nolan would be her driver and sous-chef. Curt would order a fancy CHOCOLATE cake (or two). I would eat the cake and enjoy the party. Perfect.

I decided to go with both Plan A and Plan B. Maybe turning 50 wouldn't be so bad after all.