So Cal!

Week 4 in Southern California. Not a lot to report. I’ve pretty much been hanging out in our home here in Malibu, mingling with the glitterati, working on my beach abs, barking orders at my butler and receiving fan mail in my mahogany-paneled study...don't I wish.

Southern California. Where people can escape convention and judgement (throwing funny looks doesn’t work here). Where people come to eat pan-Asian cuisine without the funny languages. Where people come to get discovered. Where people come to beach bum and spot beach babes. A beast of a place, not just in geographic size, but also economic, ethnic and social diversity. So many stereotypes to live up to and so many to prove wrong. At first I was not going to write at all about it and introduce a rule that I don't write about places I live in. But at the request of all my fans (told you I had fanmail), here goes nothing.

For argument’s sake, let’s say there are 2 scenes (when really it’s so large that there’s a scene for everyone).

Scene # 1, Los Angeles. It has a lot of plastic going on. Here, the essence of cool is almost palpable: think tic-tac colored ray bans, Uggs (even in hot weather), leggings of all denominations, calculatedly windswept hair, neon nails, t-shirt dresses and big sunglasses. You never know who you might see, or when you might get scouted (there's an agent for every talent, it seems). So the idea is always to bring on the fabulous and the schmooze. This sort of environment is at once incredible sexy, because it speaks to our inner narcissist (every thirsty for more), and destructive (it's never enough). If you don’t know what I’m talking about, try driving with your top down, blasting the pop hit “I wanna be a billionaire (so freakin’ bad)” through any neighborhood with obscenely large homes. If you don’t get a rush from daydreaming about your inevitable future grandeur, then count yourself lucky. You seemingly have no ego.

So I love a good cocktail party and want to be a billionaire just as much as the next person. But at some point you have to just take a deep breath and come to terms with the fact that your furniture is - at least for now - IKEA, and go camping (or something). Interestingly enough, it’s been argued that constant exposure to wealth and fame eventually leads one to believe they, too, are destined for greatness. That seems commonsensical, and this is certainly a town where everyone has a burning, maniacal drive for glory (or is content just to bask in reflected glory). For more on this topic, which I personally find dark and fascinating, check out the book “Fame Junkies: The Hidden Truths Behind America’s Favorite Addiction” - the first part about "showbiz kids" is especially disturbing. Reminds me of a Richard Brautigan poem...

Sam likes to say, "Ah, great expectations!"

at least three or four times in every

conversation. He is twelve years old.

Nobody knows what he is talking about when

he says it. Sometimes it makes people

feel uncomfortable.

Speaking of stars and being starstruck, after just a month here I’ve spotted enough celebrities (e.g. Gwen and Gavin, the hot doctor from Nip/Tuck, the wingman from Mad Men), and heard enough stories about other ones ("I’m not into namedropping, but"....a friend recently had dinner with Barbara Streisand and then hung out with Kristin Davis in the span of one week) to already be asking myself why it’s taking ME so long to make it big (touche).

Anyway, when someone says, “Ugh, I HATE LA” - now you know what they’re talking about. Secretly though, they love it. Trust me.

(I should also add in here that with this extreme wealth, and indeed temperate climate, comes extreme poverty: there is no ying without a yang. Los Angeles County is the undisputed homeless capital of the United States with the largest homeless population in the nation. Skid Row, located just south and east of the city’s financial center, spans nearly 52 blocks and serves as a base for nearly 150,000 homeless people. Skid Row is also home to the LA Poverty Department, the nation’s first performance group made up of homeless people).

Scene # 2, south of LA and where we live, is Orange County. Much like the TV show, the OC is full of awe-inspiring white beaches, yacht clubs, big silly homes and yummy mummies (thank God for yoga). To my surprise, and probably due to the average household income, Orange County is rather conservative - a general exception to the politically progressive California rule. I see people here love Bush the way I saw people love Bush in Texas. Very unexpected.

Tax preferences aside, the OC is much more laid back: think all-day volleyball, dozens of families in RVs parked along the shores, teeny-bopper beach bonfires at sunset, and swarms of Harley Davidson cruiser caravans (consisting of dudes with long white facial hair and yet somehow blonde ponytails - suspicious?). Every day is like Spring Break, if you want it to be. Here, you can go to the farmer's market on weeknights and take in live music, get some frozen yoghurt, maybe even some bubble tea (love that stuff). Here, you can strut around on a happy little Beach Cruiser bicycle, carrying your natural foods home in the little front basket. And when I say "natural foods" I don't just mean the pseudo-healthy stuff from upscale stores like Whole Foods. I’m talking full on, we-sell-tarot-cards-at-the-cash-register-kind of thing. If there is there any risk associated with overconsumption of superfoods, roughage, probiotics or antioxidants, these people will be the first to feel it. That said, there's a fantastic local fast food joint called In-and-Out that uses on fresh and local ingredients. Ladies, you can even order your hamburger "protein style" - that is, without a bun (and for the men, "animal style" means a double of everything...proceed with caution). The proximity of Little Saigon in neighboring Westminster (I am told this is the largest community of Vietnamese outside of Saigon) was also a welcome surprise: I don’t think I’ll ever get my fill of authentic pho, bun cha, and Asian supermarkets (an increasingly expensive habit). Seafood is also a staple - just recently, I read about a place called Pearson’s Port, a husband-wife seafood market (he fishes, she sells) right on their very own boat. Can’t wait to check that out.

So you might take in a lot of good food here, but you'll be pretty active as well. Couch potatoes just aren't that common. Whatever your sport or creed, there's something for you. Case in point: 4 weeks in, I've already attended saber fencing class, reformer class, yoga classes of all denominations, and this "friend" of mine even tried pole-dancing (psshhh, as if that's even a sport). I’ve seen several Krav Maga studios, and there are numerous respectable rugby clubs. Kite flying - and although I'm not sure this qualifies as a sport, but it will certainly get you out of the house - is also pretty popular. Lastly, on every single one of my runs along the beach, I’ve gotten a high-five either from another runner (generally topless, if it’s a guy) or just a person walking their dog. After those I usually have a dopey smile on my face for at least 2 minutes. So motivational.

And then there is surfing, seemingly the cornerstone of Pacific coast culture. From about 5 a.m. onward, father-son duos begin parking on our street in order to surf before school (I like to picture the dad going to see the principal about how his son can't get to school before 9 because he needs more time in the water). There is a surfing museum and a even surfer's walk of fame on Huntington Beach Main Street, complete with the Hollywood Stars for those who have gone down in surfing history. Fun story: last weekend, while swimming in the ocean only about 20 feet from the shore, I realized I was swimming with dolphins, too. It was creepy (do they bite?) but also the neatest thing to happen to me since that time I swam with anacondas (I kid). My guess is that kind of thing becomes commonplace as you spend more time in the water.

If there is one thing Californians do unite over, it would be a common hatred for commuting. Distances are so far, and highways so stacked up, that you WILL invest in audiobooks and/or buy a hybrid car just to ride in the carpool lane (curses on you, 405 - there go 3 hours of my life that I will never see again!). Oh, and maybe the Lakers - it's all about the Lakers. And fish tacos.

Click here to see all my photos from So Cal.

Canada, eh

Greetings from Nazko valley, central British Columbia! Our visit up here to see Leah and Eppo has been relaxing, full of delicious food, outdoor activities and gorgeous scenery. True to its reputation, this valley is full of crystal clear rivers and lakes, vast green forests and impressive hillsides. Despite being a family visit, we've seen bears, moose, owls, deer, geese (the real Canadian kind!), loon, and a beaver (I think). Days were filled with dozing, grazing (local beef! smoked fish! salmon from Vancouver island! maple & walnut ice cream! homemade cakes of all denominations!), canoeing, fly fishing (OK, so we just watched, but we get points for waking up at 7 and braving the wind), long walks, coffee/hot chocolate/tea (i.e., hot beverages), firewood gathering, visits to neighbors' farms (finally, I understand eggs), lengthy sessions of cult HBO series, and a teensy bit of Scrabble. Generally, pretty sweet. Thanks for having us!

Click here to view all of my photos from Nazko.

Checkin' the scene in Houston

eating

Haven - $$$, Houston’s first 100% organic and seasonal restaurant

BRC – new gastropub near Washington, down-home cooking with a twist in a cozy but modern atmosphere (try the cheese biscuit with bacon relish!)

The Grove - $$$, located at Discovery Green - modern cuisine e.g. halibut on sweet potato mash. If you go on Wednesdays between 6:30 and 7:30 p.m., you'll get to watch the free Zumba class going on in the park outside - guaranteed chuckles!
Block 7 Wine Company – retail/restaurant hybrid with wine-based menu with exclusive, boutique wines. Try the flatbreads, perfect for nibbling and sharing

Mockingbird Bistro - $$$, in Montrose area – French-inspired, homey feeling, great service
Pizzitola's – best spareribs in town, with a tomato-based (i.e. not overpoweringly gooey or sweet) barbecue sauce, populated by locals and not tourists
Goode Co. – famous for somethin’! Best pecan pie in town
Ragin' Cajun – for those of us who like crawfish and corn on the cobs (sold in buckets, no plates)

Lucio's – seasonal, organic food, Italian-inspired and outstanding. You can almost watch your chef cook your food, real neighbourhood feel. Plus, it's BYOB!

Onion/Dry/Cedar Creek – these three are Heights’ staples for food and drink, at any time of day. Great brunches, friendly staff.

Cafe Brasil – filled with hipsters, often boasts live music and free movie screenings on the patio. Browse Domy books (connected to the patio) for rare photography and architecture publications. Great salads and sandwiches with fresh ingredients (e.g. grated tuna, pumpkinseed and goat cheese on bed of raw spinach)

Babba Yega – gorgeous patios with fountains, by far the best brunch buffet in town (the waffle station alone justifies going)

Hugo's – Hugo Ortega is one the pioneers of Southwestern cuisine, plus a very friendly person

El Tiempo Cantina - high-end texmex, fantastic ceviche
Tampico's – no-frills fresh seafood at unbeatable prices(order the red snapped, it's bigger than your torso), served the authentic mexican way (the guac is to die for). Bottomless frozen margaritas if you want 'em

Baby Barnaby's - Montrose area, great brunch (green eggs and ham with jalapenos, oh my!)

Dharma Café – downtown, healthy lunches with many vegetarian options

Giacomo's - Italian trattoria on Westheimer, great for tapas

Max & Julie's - can't get more refined than this, LOVE their salmon crepes

Niko Niko's - to satisfy your falafel craving

Bombay Pizza - who knew curry & pizza could be so dynamite?

The Blue Nile - because Ethiopian food rocks.

cafe/bar/lounging
Chocolate Bar – fantastique, and I’m not even a chocolate fanatic! Try their german chocolate ice cream
Te House of Tea – in the Montrose area, homemade iced chai tea…spicy and satisfying
Waldo's – cute cafe on Heights blvd. owned by young married couple, decorated to resembleyour living room

Agora – café for the European hipsters of Houston, good wine collection and creative coffees

Empire Café – standard “hip” ambiance in Montrose area, can’t go wrong

Spec's – Texas’ crown-jewel for luxury and gourmet items (starting with licor and ending at the deli). If it exists in Ecuador, it exists here…

Mr. Gino's - best blues ever. A taste of the real thing....get ready to see some serious characters! Take your own snacks and licor, that is if you're not into beer and fried pigskins. Go Sundays between 4-6 p.m., if you're lucky you'll catch some Zydeco.

Poison Girl - casual bar in Montrose area, who DOESN'T love a little pinball?

Don't Mess With Texas

After 3 years “out of the game” in my personal waiting room (Bolivia – with scattered travel, mainly in the developing world), my first few weeks back in the US were tough. Mainly it was just strange to be dealing with reason and accountability. The roads are big and scary and well marked! Everybody seems to be abiding by the law! People are on time! To further confuse me, I suddenly found myself being treated like a local, because I sound (am?) American. So the expectations were that I know local politics, understand directions, say hi to the postman, understand credit card lingo, can fill out a W-4, navigate the myriad of brands at the grocery sore, work the lawn mower, and enjoy early-evening beers over a bacce game (...maybe I'm stereotyping suburbia here but you get the picture). In actual fact though, it’s been about 15 years since I’ve lived in the US of A – so by now I’m kind of a stranger in my own land. I’ve gotten used to being the different one, gotten used to people cutting me slack. Used to navigating my way around by asking lots of questions, often with hand movements. After all, in the UK I was American; in Japan I was a gaijin; in Bolivia I was a gringuita; in France I was one of many foreign French wannabes. So I guess being different is just a prereq for my comfort zone…

…I digress. So I’ve been in Houston for about a month now, and I’m starting to ask myself if my experience is unusual: so yeah, my family is pretty well-connected, and by nature has its fingers in many cultural pies - with its remaining finger firmly on society’s pulse. So I know I have that to thank for all the eclectic stuff I’ve been exposed to since arriving. But something tells me this town has more stuff on offer than it’s typically given credit for.

In general, the US is a place that, to me, excels in abundance and variety: the amount of resources for the individual – whether cultural, physical, community spirit or plain old continual learning (personal finance classes! sewing!creative writing! self-defense! classes at the zoo!) – is just astounding. Everything about it is to further progress, and extend personal empowerment. And then, there is the whole convenience thing. It’s easy to see how people got carried away with credit. You can’t drive a mile without coming across a super store with all these bargain deals on pretty, but unnecessary, crap. Self-storage units are all over the place. People just don’t have room anymore in their homes for said pretty, unnecessary crap. Extreme fitness (polar opposite of the obesity levels everyone loves to criticize the US for) is also rampant - at the gym this morning, I overheard a (very buff, very hot) soccer mom talking about how she's "comin' up on her 50s, so she's doin' 50 reps of everything - pullups, pushups, walkin' lunges - gotta mix it up, anything to mix it up". Yeah. A 50 year old with a washboard stomach...

Convenience with food is another topic I love to talk/think about. Man is it easy to whip up a gourmet meal here (because your local supermarket – the normal one, not the Whole Foods one – will have organic kale, herbed feta and peanut oil – and sell it in all the exact quantities you could possibly need – for the recipe you just downloaded with your iPhone application). Food of all shapes, denominations and sizes is on offer, pretty much around the clock. For many people, cooking at home means buying some pre-prepared ingredients (e.g. cooked vegetables, grilled boneless-skinless chicken breast, dips and spreads and soups and herbed grains) from a deli or grocery store, and then throwing it together at home – perhaps with some fancy bottled sauce or one left over from another takeaway (on that, I gave up sugar for Lent –which has proven a real challenge – nearly everything is jacked up with the stuff, even bread and hot sauce). Another thing I've noticed is this general need to have a beverage in your hand. Everyone always seems to have one. Hot ones, cold ones, decaffeinated ones, Styrofoam ones, with or without recycled sleeves, straws, reusable containers, big gulps, smoothies, protein boosts, vitamin water, plain old water, expensive glacier water, lots of ice, no ice at all...it's like the national security blanket. Sip and talk, sip and drive, sip and work...sippy McSip!

(Disclaimer: I know I'm being really judgmental and don't mean to offend. I have my adolescence in snooty but classy Europe to thank for that. Part of it is also because I’m way out of touch with all things Americana, so it's easier to observe and critique than it is to understand and appreciate. God bless America - and I really DO mean that. This is the only place I've been where I feel people are constantly, perhaps relentlessly, trying to innovate.) My point is that things are about as seamless and efficient as possible. You have every possible choice – not just in dressing, but also in lifestyle and hobbies and interests – that your little heart could ever desire. And actually, it’s pretty cool. At times, it still feels indulgent and wasteful en masse (don’t get me started on the packaging and portion sizes), but I’m rolling with it.

Now back to Houston.

Houston has no defining characteristic. It doesn’t have the charm of San Francisco, the retro beach culture of Miami, or the historical bent that the East coast states have going on. But (and it would seem we have the energy sector to thank for this), Houston can pretty much anything you want it to be. The population is diverse – not just in terms of the different nationalities living here (again, thanks to the multinational companies; for instance, my gym is full of Brits, French, Indians and Hispanics – all raising young families here; my brothers' rugby team HARC is from all over) but also in terms of lifestyles. Contrary to popular belief, not everyone is an obese, barbecue-eating, country-music-listening, gun-toting religious zealot and/or so-called bubba with a gas-guzzling pickup (although I have to admit some of those things do have their charm). There are yogis, zen Buddhists, libertarians, vegetarians! Running clubs and serious wine bars (like Block 7 - where I can be found Thurs-Sat as the hostess with the mostest) and some serious retro clothing/antique stores! All the things you were raised thinking Texas was – well, make room, because there’s a lot more to it these days. When I was little, my family (who got started here) would joke about the Texas expression: “If you don’t like it here, highway 6 runs both ways”. Well, yeah. These days, it seems like the place is slightly more accommodating.

Upon arrival, one of the first interesting tidbits of local culture I heard about is a theater piece called The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas (which I still need to check out). Marvin Zindler, the man who made that story happen, was apparently the best friend of a good family friend – who also so happens to be Texas’ #1 plastic surgeon (who does pro-bono work in Bolivia). Said doctor just wrote Zindler’s biography, and is holding a launch party at his house (which illustrates another point I was going to make, that the socialite scene is big here). I wonder how hard it would be to get on that guest list??

I also had the great fortune of arriving just before the Houston rodeo (organized by said surgeon’s wife) began. This is a huge deal –HUGE, not just for Texans, but also abroad. It even generates a fair share of tourism from the Middle East, apparently due to the horses on show. It starts with 3 days of "cook-offs" – i.e. pretty much the best barbecue you can imagine, and I heard a rumor you can even get deep-fried oreos, too. Once the rodeo has begun, you can you go see (or buy - like my brother is going to do this weekend with a cow - there's grade-A beef for ya) all kinds of livestock at the auctions. You can also have a peek at the most ridiculous, ostentatious Western wear and home furnishings that new oil money can buy (check out King Ranch), because there are stalls galore of just this (we’re talking diamond-studded jean jackets, exotic leather boots, platinum belt buckles, etc). I also seemed to arrive in time for crawfish boils - a tradition seemingly borrowed from neighboring Louisiana (sort of the southern US' version of Latin America's parrillada; i.e., let's eat, drink, and make merry en masse, outside).

I’ve been pleasantly surprised by the amount of mom & pop shops here. Alas, Houston shopping is no longer just about the Galleria mall and big-name brands (that would be more like Dallas – I hear they’re all about the vanity there). I really enjoyed hitting The Guild (a thrift store where all the wealthy River Oaks crowd drop off their unwanted items – including furniture and Gucci bags) and 19th St here in the Heights (dear Lord do to they take their vintage seriously here - there is some hardcore zoning going on in these boutiques: each seller has his/her own section, in which each piece has carefully been assigned an era - and in so doing makes a name for themselves in the vintage world). Then there is the student-ridden, wealthier pub-filled Rice Village (mainly populated by Rice University students). Finally, and this would be my favorite area so far, around Westheimer and Dunlavy St.: it's mostly antique stores, but also loads of great hipster (...the palatable kind), book stores, and cafes with creative menus. Check out Cafe Brasil and it's sister business, Domy books (wherethe employees' book knowledge can only rival that of a sommelier's). On the whole, there are so many independent and delicious joints in Houston that there’s no need to ever repeat or eat at a chain (unless it’s a taqueria – and it’s 3 a.m. The tex-mex doesn’t get more unapologetically unhealthy, disgustingly, finger-lickingly good than it is here). If you have time for a road trip, pick up foodie John Demers' book Follow the Smoke, which is basically a Lonely Planet guide to Texas barbecue (complete with anecdotes and histories of each joint - he drove 15,000 miles across the great state in the name of research). Another place I loved discovering was the farmer’s market over on Airline Road – everything was half the price, and just as fresh and organic, as at Whole Foods or Trader Joe’s. Most of the vendors are hispanic, so I felt right at home, just like shopping in Bolivia (the driving there is similar, too – yay for breaking rules!). On the whole, a nice way to spend your Saturday morning – certainly more authentic than a trip to, say, Bed, Bath and Beyond…

I’m also really impressed at how cultured the social elite here seem to be. Often new money (…especially oil money) just leads to fancy cars and the latest bling. But when I visited the Faberge collection at the Natural Science Museum, this really hit home. A certain (clearly very wealthy) Houston couple has been buying these exquisite historical pieces for the past 5 years, simply out of a piqued interest. By now they have one of the best collections in the world of Peter Carl’s (because that’s what I like to call him) work. I was flabbergasted (check out this tiara) and very happy to see that capitalism has not entirely killed culture! The theater district is also booming – I was lucky enough to catch a Broadway production of Miss Saigon last week – so there is no shortage of cultural movement there (even La Boheme is on at our local theater here in the Heights). In the one month that I’ve been here, I’ve witnessed a great music circuit: Black Eyed Peas, Dave Matthews, John Mayer, Beach Boys, the Jonas Brothers, country singers both big and small…not to mention the Houston symphony. I guess Austin wins in the independent/undiscovered artist category, but let’s just say the musical agenda is not too shabby here (and here I would like to make a special mention of Andrew Karanavas, fellow waiter and singer/songwriter extraordinaire).

A final word about the green spaces. I’ve noticed a big fitness and "mindful living" (the latest, greatest buzzwords) culture, fostered by an abundance of parks, running clubs and free sport events (check out Brian O’Neills running club – mostly recent grads from Rice or University of Houston; the more hardcore running club, the Kenyan Way; the Community Gardens Program at Urban Harvest; and finally, Discovery Green, where you can try free tai-chi or hear live blues, any day of the week). Memorial Park's 3 mile loop seems to be The Place to see and be seen for fitness-oriented people (I honestly run there just to people-watch; there are some long-standing characters, dare I call them institutions?). Just today I saw some brand reps jogging in sweatsuits, advertising a local business (that's ambient media for you). Whatever kind of self-help/spiritual support you may need, that’s also there too: the Jung center, the Houston Zen Center, churches of all denominations, en masse motivational seminars (which take place in, um, stadiums), the list goes on.

In brief: I’m impressed. Houston’s got it going on. I just wish it weren’t so GD muggy.