The rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated.....

This is my first chance to write.  I had forgotten that China blocks Google and its affiliates, and, of course, there is no internet on the train.  However, here we are in civilized Mongolia (the Ramada Inn, no less...).  We're off for a concert in 20 minutes, so just a note to say that the flights and connections went better than expected, and there was indeed someone to meet me at the airport in Beijing.  They've been holding my hand ever since, and everything is still better than expected.  I will try to post later, after concert and dinner, but I have been so sleepy that I have barely read three pages...

But for those of you who were worried, just wanted to let you know...

I'm detecting a theme.....

I roared through Julian Barnes' book Talking it Over, then switched back to Peter Robinson's Sleeping in the Ground.  Both continue the themes of remembrance and regret, and how the remembrances of our past can distort our present, and our future.  (Both good books, by the way.  I will be reading more Julian Barnes for sure when I get back.) 

I don't have many memories.  My family was the poster child for dysfunctional families.  No, that's not fair to say.  There was not much violence (and certainly none directed against me), and certainly no hunger or any other serious physical deprivation (unless you count no furniture but a Steinway baby grand in the living room as physical deprivation).  But my step-mother hated my father, and I think the feeling was mutual.  There was constant yelling, and constant mutual degradation.  My early decision not to have children was one of the fall-outs.  Another is, I am beginning to realize, the repression of all of the memories of my childhood.  I do remember my father bemoaning his bad memory, so maybe some of it is genetic, but I can't help but think.......

It does add to my feeling of rootlessness though, no ties to the past or to the future....

Anxiously Waiting....

.....for my trip to Russia.  I really, really, really don't like the fact that I am so anxious.  Which is why, if I have talked about this before, please indulge me and listen again.  The thing is, I am not really an anxious traveler.  Really, why should I be anxious?  My Visa works, and there are not too many problems that can't be fixed with money.  Miss a plane?  Get another ticket.  They want to search you, or your luggage?  Who cares?  And there is going to be someone with my name on a sign when I get to the airport in Beijing - I've checked.  So what is it?  It just makes me feel old, like my life is starting to get circumscribed, and I don't feel ready for that yet.

Well, it's not too long now - 14 more sleeps - so we will all know soon.  At least I hope I will be able to post along the way - I know I will be able to post in the hotels, I am not so sure about the train.  And this new Notebook is fine for typing and Internet, but the jury is still out on picture editing.  Again, we will see.

Meanwhile, the here and now.  Since last we spoke, friend Jack and I went to a concert at the Chan Center.  This is one of the newer music venues in town - although it is not so new any more, probably more than a decade old.  When it was first built, I didn't like it very well; the acoustics have always been fabulous - and, of course, still are - but in the beginning, I wasn't fond of the concrete and glass decor, and the very awkward public space.  It has grown on me, though (not that I have gone all that often), In any event, it was a lovely evening.  We were in the very last row in the balcony center - not so great for the opera, but great for piano concert, specifically, Angela Hewitt (a Canada girl) playing Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier.  I think it may be the first time I have heard it live - and all the way through.  It is a surprisingly - to me, anyway - engaging piece, and she is quite the pianist.  My mother (some of you know, she was a concert pianist, before the Nazis decided she wasn't) would have approved - she didn't like flashy, Glen Gould-like playing, and this was just good, solid playing. 

One interesting sociological note - our population in Vancouver is about 40% white, and the remainder about evenly divided between Asian and East Indian.  There were any number of Asians in the audience (a lot with scores on their laps) but not one East Indian!!

The birthday celebrations continue.  Former colleague Mickey wanted to take me out for lunch for my birthday.  Luckily, I am cheap date - we went to our go-to Pho place...

.....here's our host..

(when we first started going, it was his father.....)

.....Mickey's always happy, and we do love catching up.........

Anyway, it was a great chin-wag.  We never run out of things to talk about, and the only time we disagree is on an intellectual level.  I don't know we only do it a few times a year.

That was Friday.  Saturday, yet another birthday outing - friends Joyce and Jennifer wanted to take me out for my birthday, and, what with everyone's schedule, this is the closest we could come up with.  This was a little fancier, though - dim sum at the Shanghai River.  You have heard me talk about this restaurant before, but I have never done dim sum there.  It is a little different - Shanghai style as opposed to the more common Cantonese (I remember a time when I didn't know what dim sum was, much less that there were different styles....)

...those are the infamous Shanghai dumplings, which you can see them making in an open kitchen.  Yum!  In short, for as often as I have had dim sum, we managed to order six dishes I have never had before.  Another success!

I have been doing a lot of reading.  Mothers:  An Essay on Love and Cruelty by Jacquiline Rose was one that I was anxious to read, given my fractious relationship with my step-mother.  Turns out, it was a feminist screed - you can just imagine how much I liked that!  I went from there to another Peter Robinson mystery - Children of the Revolution.  He never disappoints. 

Back to serious books, with Barbara Ehrenreich's Natural Causes.  This was more up my alley; still a screed, but against the medical profession, and their over-diagnosing, over prescribing arrogance.  Apparently I not the only patient who is "non-compliant", and who has stopped testing for things that I am not going to do anything about!

Back to the novel.  I happened to catch Writers and Company with Barbara Wachtel the other day on CBC Radio.  She was interviewing Julian Barnes, and I was intrigued.  I had read Flaubert's Parrot, which he wrote a few decades ago, but nothing since.  Off to the library I trotted, and came up with The Sense of an Ending.  What a wonderful book.  It is about remembering (how fragile, and how everyone remembers differently) and regret, and I highly recommend it.  A few quotes:

....as the witnesses to your life diminish, there is less corroboration, and therefore less certainty, as to what you are or have been...

History is that certainty produced at the point where the imperfections of memory meet the inadequacies of documentation...

History is the lies of the victors and the self-delusions of the defeated..

Well, you get the drift.  There will certainly be more Julian Barnes in my future.  I've already started reading "Talking it Over" a book he wrote more than a decade ago, and I could barely put it down to write....

It has been dreadfully hot here, and it makes me feel loggy.  And yes, I like the heat, but I like my heat served dry, with air conditioning and a swimming pool at hand.

I'll try to write once more before my trip....

Playing on the B Team - maybe it has its benefits?

I went through a crisis of confidence last Monday.  In the interests of privacy - and my own pride - I won't bore you with the details.  Suffice it to say that it was made patently obvious at work that I was playing on the B team, not to be trusted with anything of importance.  Oh, I've known it for some time now, but was cruelly reminded of it.  Believe it or not, I actually shed tears, although, gratefully, not in front of anyone else.  Nor did I stomp over to the corner office to resign, although, admittedly, I was helped in that resolve by the fact that the resident was not there.  As always, I was also helped by my low tolerance level for boredom, and self pity is hugely boring.  In short, I have gotten over it.  I have decided on this narrative:  I am still of value to the organization, even playing on the B team.  It must be so, as they are still paying me.  And, on the bright side, there are fewer expectations.  So, onward.

Wednesday evening, played bridge at the club with Dennis.  He hadn't been going to the club for at least a decade, and I am really honoured that he has asked me to go on several occasions recently.  (In my opinion, he is hands-down the best player in our little group.)  And we actually managed to eke out some points.

On Thursday night, it was off to dinner and the theater with friend Tom.  We decided to eat at our old standby, Enigma, although we had gotten bored with it.  Lo and behold, it has had a makeover...

and a change of ownership (not to mention a great happy hour menu).  We were very pleasantly surprised - and with the theater as well.  We saw A Few Good Men, by Aaron Sorkin.  (Some of you, of a certain age, probably remember the movie, with Jack Nicholson and Tom Cruse, when he was still young and normal.)  I had never seen the movie.  Turns out, it was a very good play, and the Ensemble Theater Company did a wonderful job with it.  Worth the sweltering heat - turns out, if they put on the air conditioner, the audience was unable to hear the dialog....

.....followed by bridge with the boys at John's on Friday night.  (God bless him, he barbequed, and is really working at making hamburgers that are not the consistency of hockey pucks....)  It may not be the best bridge, but we always have a lot of laughs...

......and more theater on Saturday, this time a matinee at the Arts Club on Granville Island.  It was even worth battling the traffic, the parking issues (although I have to say, I have unusually good parking karma), and the hordes of people on Granville on a sunny summer Saturday.  The play was Once, a musical (also apparently a movie, nominated for an Academy Award in, ohm 2009 I think.  It wasn't a play so much as a flimsy scaffold on which to hang a bunch of songs.  However, it was great fun, the audience (a full house for a change) loved it.  I did too, although plays - and especially musicals - about love are always a stark reminder that I aint got none.....

Reading?  Well, I still haven't finished Gulag. (It's not one of those books you can read straight through - too depressing.)  In the effort to absorb all things Russian before my trip, I also read Panic In A Suitcase, by Yelena Akhtiorsk.  It is about a Russian Jewish family from Odessa transplanted to Brighton Beach - written by a Russian Jew from Brighton Beach.  I can't say that I can wholeheartedly recommend it, but it did provide a window of sorts into the Russian soul, which I am looking for right now.

Finally, I read A Coin in Nine Hands, a book written in 1934 about Mussolini's Rome.  Again, I was not taken by the writing - or perhaps, a poor translation - but the descriptions of the leader, and the politic manipulation of a people, were uncannily apt.  I am not sorry I read it. 

Finally, I have to tell you that this is my first post on a new device.  I broke down and got a NoteBook, for purposes of having something to take with me to Russia - so I can keep you posted from there.  I have actually managed to get it set up (with only minimal help from the IT people at work), and it looks like it will work swimmingly.

I leave in a little over three weeks.  I must admit, I am anxious - and generally speaking, I am not anxious when I travel.  Oh, well, all reservations have been made, I have rubles and visas in hand, and a working credit card.  What can go wrong? 

In any event, you will hear from me again before I leave...

Happy birthday to me!

A good birthday week all around, with lunches and dinners all week.  It started with lunch with colleague Paul, his treat, on account of it being my birthday week and all.  He is a much more adventurous eater than I; on Monday, we tried what, in effect, was an Asian fusion diner.  Food was only so-so, but it was lots of fun to try (as usual in Richmond, we were the only round-eyes in the place; Richmond is now over 80% Asian).

Tuesday, friend Deirdre came over from Victoria for some "one-on-one" birthday time.  In a departure from our usual ethnic fare, we walked over to my local pub. Romers, for some good old pub fare, for Deirdre, fish and chips, and for me, a hamburger (something I eat about once a year).  Oh, and I got to have a drink too, as, for a change, I wasn't driving, and I do love Romer's peach bellinis!

Wednesday, the actual birthday. was marked by the traditional dim sum at the Victoria with friend Richard.... 

As careful followers of these pages will remember, Richard and I went to law school together, briefly practiced law together, and have been friends for over 40 years.  In recent years, we have taken to celebrating our respective birthdays with dim sum at Victoria.  We never seem to tire of it, nor do we ever seem to run out of things to talk about.  (I guess that's not so surprising, since we only see each other twice a year....)

Oh, and thanks to Facebook, my day was also filled with good wishes from totally unexpected people, friends and family alike, and even a call from Brother Bobbie (from Puerto Vallarta by way of Palm Springs).  And no, he's not really my brother, or Mariah's either, but she has always called him that, and I got in the habit.

And, in the interest of full disclosure, I should say that, in spite of the fact that we have barely spoken for almost nine months, Mariah acknowledged my birthday with a brief text.  (I was not as gracious, I am afraid, having ignored her birthday two weeks earlier).  I responded, but the whole thing felt - yucky.  I am not unhappy that I have chosen not to have her in my life any more - she was behaving too much like my mother - dismissive, judgmental and controlling - but still, it is a loss.

Thursday continued the annual traditions; for a number of years now, Bea and I have celebrated our joint July birthdays with dinner and an outing at Bard on the Beach.  This year, we returned to the high end  Japanese restaurant - I never remember the name -

...we even ordered saki.....

....and oysters...

.... and, in the interest of trying something new, a seafood shooter (the taste wasn't bad, but the consistency made me gag) (note to self; remember not to order next year.  At least not for me.  Bea, however, loved it...)

The Bard on the Beach offering was As you Like It, set in the Okanagen in the 60's, accompanied by a trove of songs from the Beatles.  Much as I pride myself on being a grinch, and much as I like my Shakespeare straight, even I was captivated (although I tried not to show it).  Part of it, I am sure, was Bea's unabashed delight - her enthusiasm was catching.  A lovely evening.

Friday was a different matter altogether.  Not that the company wasn't great - I always enjoy Arlene's visits from Seattle .  Dinner was good.  Arlene has become a real foodie, and had several eating agenda items, including Rangoli, a "new style" Indian restaurant we had tried the last time she was here.

I include this food shot only in contrast with the Japanese restaurant the night before.  Japanese food presents so much better....

Then we headed off to the theater, to see Aristophanes' Lysistrata.  That's where we went wrong.  We should have quit while we were ahead.  What an awful play.  It is bawdy and vulgar and not at all subtle.  (for those of you who don't know, the plot revolves around the women of Athens and Sparta going on a sex strike until the men conclude the war).  To add insult to injury, Christopher Gaze, the artistic director, wrapped it all in a play within a play, in his usual habit of not trusting his audience to understand the modern connection unless they are beaten over the head with it.

Suffice it to say that we left at intermission.  At home, I found that I had a copy of the play (why is no one surprised?) and read it.  It was every bit as vulgar as it was on stage, with enormous penises, shaved pudenda, farts and belches.  Who knew?

The interesting thing happened the next day.  We had signed up for a seminar on the play, and, in the interest of enlightenment, decided to go, in spite of the fact that we hated the play.  We were, indeed, enlightened.  The lecturer was both a performer and extremely knowledgeable,  and while we agreed that we were never going to like the play, we understood the context, political and social, and to me that is key - to just about everything.

We were still talking about it hours later at dim sum at Fisherman's Terrace (another culinary repeat from last year requested by Arlene)....

a

....as much as you can talk about anything in the din of that restaurant.

We capped the day with yet another theater outing, going to see  Repertory Theater's version of The Beauty Queen of Leelane, by Martin McDonagh.  If the name sounds familiar, it should; he apparently wrote the screen play for Three Billboards.  This was every bit as violent, and dark as only the Irish (and maybe the Russians) can be dark.  Nonetheless, it met our criteria for good theater - we cared about these people - although we agreed that the production could have been better.  Still, a good night at the theater - marred only by the fact that Arlene requested that I put the top up on the way home!

Arlene left Sunday morning, and we agreed that it had been a great weekend;  good weather, good food, good, intelligent conversation. a learning opportunity, and, of course, theater.

But the festivities continued.  No sooner was Arlene on the road then I was too (top down now, of course), on the way to friend Debbie's house.  Debbie, Robin and I went to law school together, many moons ago, and have been celebrating our birthdays jointly ever since.

......so Robin (left) and Debbie (right) started in her lovely yard....

.....and ended up in Sun Sui Wah for dim sum.

Yes, I know I had dim sum the day before, but Robin hasn't had it for decades (literally - maybe 4?) and it was her year to chose.  Another great restaurant - I swear, there are no grade b Chinese restaurants in Vancouver - and another great tradition carried forward!

You'll be happy to hear that is the end of the birthday celebrations.  Well, I kind of missed the 70th, so I had to milk 72 for all it was worth.  And let me say it again; if I would have known I was going to live this long, I would have taken better care of myself...

Spoiler alert:  Monday (i.e., yesterday) was a downer, so I will leave it for next time, and close on the high note of friends, food and fun.  More anon.  

What's wrong with me?

Oh, I'm fine, physically.  It's just mentally that I seem to be losing it.  Friends have dogs.  They're gaga over their dogs.  I feel nothing.  I am not afraid of them.  I don't hate them.  I just feel none of the "Isn't that adorable" that I'm apparently supposed to feel.  I don't even understand how they feel it.  It is just totally foreign, like I am visiting from another planet and have to be told how to react.  Children?  Ditto, except they are more annoying than dogs.  (When they were passing out the "want children" gene, I must have been standing behind the door.)

Friend Chaya from Palm Springs has been visiting all week, and so I have been taking her around to the various neighborhoods.  Where she sees vibrant neighborhoods with benign hustle and bustle, I see prams taking up the sidewalk, screaming - and running (they are always running) - children, and dogs, everywhere.

When did I stop being able to relate to the human condition?  I seem to care about nothing.  Chaya - and other friends - are politically passionate and involved.  I am removed.

Oh, I'm still interested, in an academic way.  I read.  I go to the theater.  I try to understand.  But, ultimately, I don't care. 

Maybe I'm a sociopath.

Well, this sociopath did play tour guide all week as best I could, and we saw UBC, Point Grey, Kitsilano. Kerrisdale, and Granville Island.  We even saw the downtown east side, homeless, addicts, drunks and all.  For Chaya, it was an indication of the failure of society.  I, on the other hand, couldn't find it in my heart to care very much - or, really, at all. 

I even took Chaya to see Macbeth at Bard on the Beach.  (It was a wonderful production; it never ceases to amaze me how relevant Shakespeare still is 400 years later.)  Some of the lines could have been ripped out of the headlines of a newspaper, if anyone still read newspapers. 

We had two meals at the Dosa House.  Dosas are apparently a big thing in South India, where Chaya emmigrated from (many, many years past), and there are no - and I mean no - good Indian restaurants in Palm Springs.  My choice was a big success! 

On Friday night, I brought Chaya along to a previously planned dinner at friend Joanne's, loosely in honour of my upcoming birthday.

....here's Susan with Wally, one of the aforementioned dogs...

......okay, he is cute, but that is as far as I will go.  And I will definitely NOT pick up one of those slimy toys and toss it for him.  Here Joanne, out hostess, below.....

.....who deals with my curmudgeonly nature with a smile.

Below, Deidre, the organizer (and bringer of the cake)...

....and friend Chaya, who was a big hit with my colleagues.....

It was lovely to be feted, and I was hugely grateful.  And yet.  And yet.  I was disconnected, somehow, as if I didn't belong there, among these lovely, happy, smart people, with families and dogs and activities to participate in.

And no, I don't need a lecture on how many friends I have and how much I do.  In a way, that's the point.  What the hell is the matter with me?

Chaya left Saturday, a little disillusioned with me, and my lack of empathy, I fear.  I spent the rest of the day catching up with my Dottie Domestic duties - and nap time - and tried to shake my torpor with a long walk by the river. However, my listening material is currently Dostoevsky's The Devils - interesting, certainly, but not cheerful.

(My current nighttable book is not much better, a history of the Russian gulag by Anne Applebaum.  Even the most recent murder mystery, another Peter Robinson, When the Music's Over, was depressing.  Hey, there's a thought!  Maybe I should change my reading material.....)

Today, another social outing, brunch at Heather's, a former colleague.

Below, Donna, Susan, and hostess Heather..

Again, good food, good conversation.  I participated, all right, but, again, felt as though I were visiting from another planet.

Busy week next week, lots of different people.  Let's hope I can do better....

San Francisco is a hard act to follow......

Indeed, there has not been much going on.  Lots of bridge, at different venues: with Dennis at the bridge club the Wednesday after I got back, bridge at Dennis's house on Thursday, and back at John's - with a slightly different cast of characters on Friday.

Here we are at Dennis place....

...or, more accurately, at Minoas, the Greek taverna near his place (previously mentioned in these pages) where we had dinner before bridge.  More bridge at the club with Alex too.  You'd think with all this playing that I would be getting better, but from my scores, that doesn't appear to be the case...

Some work finally arrived on my desk, and I'm hugely grateful for it.  For all my resolve not to make work a substitute for my social life, I do miss it when I have no excuse to go in.  For all my other activities, I feel the lack of structure when I am not working....

There was some variety this week, though.  Below, bridge at John's was preceded by a cake (brought by yours truly) to celebrate his 58th birthday - a mere baby....

..from left to right, Jules, his wife Ruixa, John and Dennis above,

There have been some pure social outings too.  Friend Jack came to visit one evening, for a drink and a chin-wag.  We haven't sat down and just talked for a while, and it was good to catch up.  I also managed to find Bea without her lunch in the office, so we headed out for Japanese, and more catching up.

What else can I tell you?  Not much, really.  Reading (or, in one case, listening)?  Where did I leave you?  I don't think I have told you about How to Change Your Mind by Michael Pollan.  This book was another accidental find - I recognized the author, having read and liked several of his books on various sociological topics (he is a reporter by trade) , and I clicked "add to cart" on that basis only.  Turns out it a book about psychedelic drugs, and their possible use as a treatment for depression, anxiety and addiction, not to mention as a means of making "healthy normals" happier.  Who would have thought I would find that interesting?  But I did, a combination of his great writing and the fact that he is a good reader too - this was an audiobook, accompanying me on my walks these last few weeks..  

On a lighter note, just finished another Peter Robinson mystery, All the Colors of Darkness.  "Lighter" is a relative term, of course.  It was actually fairly dark for a New York Times bestseller sort of mystery.  But I do like his characters and plots, and am working my way down the list of maybe 30 that he has written.  If you are looking for a new good read, you could do worse.

Finally, I will sign off soon so I can finish The Magpie Murders by Anthony Horowitz.  It is definitely a page-turner, a cross between Agatha Christie and a post modern novel.  I literally have barely been able to put it down.

A parade of out-of-town guests visiting in the next few weeks.  Trying to keep them amused will keep me busier, and therefore happier; I don't do well with not enough to do, and have been pretty poopy since I've been back.  

I will try to keep you in the loop.