From Sea to Sogut to Marmaris

August 29, 2026. Mostly Marmaris.

Saturday morning we sailed the short distance back to Sogut. The crew seemed eager to be rid of us. I heard they don’t always go for a full week. They were probably really tired.

I said farewell to the boat. Mostly fondly but some mixed feelings in there as well. You already know about the hot cabins. A few days ago it got windy so they took down the sun shades on the front of the boat and my favorite reading spot became a frying pan. I hesitate to mention this, but there was an ongoing problem with my toilet not flushing. That was pretty embarrassing as I had to ask the crew for help. I learned to write “Please help flush toilet” in Turkish and left that note on the lid for when they came through to take out the trash. You aren’t supposed to put toilet paper in the toilet, but in the trash can instead, so it was important they empty that.

Pottery shards on the sea floor, taken earlier in the trip with my underwater camera. It took me awhile to learn to spot them. You can see shapes that aren’t rocks. Also, can you believe how clear the Aegean water is?!?

Not to trash talk the boat at the last minute. There are always the small annoyances on any trip. This week was one of the most interesting and surprising and relaxing trips I’ve taken, checking all the travel boxes for me, which includes imagining what I’d do differently now that I’m more experienced.

Even more exciting…the trip was far from over! None of that flying right back home to cruel reality after a great time.

There was no place to dock in Sogut (which was surprising as I figured on a Saturday the pleasure boats would be taking tourists out) so we had to ride the dingy in. First load, our luggage, which did make me nervous as they piled it high and sped off. It made it! Next, us, in two loads, dumped onto rickety disconnected floating docks crisscrossed by ropes. To my surprise (because things didn’t always go as planned), the van we’d pre-booked to take us to Marmaris was already there, and air conditioned. The driver took a different route than we’d taken before, avoiding the hairpin turn mountain route and going the long way around. I enjoyed the 1.5 hour ride very much.

This is a not amazing time-lapse of the entire journey from Sogut to Marmaris, but I worked so hard to keep my phone pressed against the window I feel obligated to include it. You don’t have to watch it!!

The driver dropped us off at the entrance to old town (no cars allowed.) Most of our party was leaving Marmaris that day, either to fly home or take the ferry to Rhodes. Only E. and B. and I were spending the night.

I went to check in to my apartment hotel and found the tiny street in front of the entrance to reception crammed with people. The spot must be a Turkish Instagram location. People were essentially in line, waiting to get their picture taken there. My room wasn’t ready so I left my suitcase in the lobby and went to rejoin our group for a final lunch together.

The little alley was between the two houses, and the house on the left was also popular for photos. I wasn’t used to seeing so many women wearing religious headscarves. We don’t experience much of this in San Francisco.

Unfortunately, and unexpectedly, I had a pretty bad case of land legs, or land sickness. The world rocked and I felt nauseous. I ordered lunch but couldn’t eat more than a few bites. I wanted to lay flat on the ground but couldn’t do that in the restaurant.

We said goodbye to several of our group, and I went back to check in to my extremely charming tiny apartment house. It was off the beaten path, away from tourists, and I had my own resident cats who really wanted to come in.

My place! I put water out for the cats. That shutter upstairs banged in the wind.

While I was petting the cats, a call to prayer sounded from the nearby mosque and I had one of those, woah, where am I? moments. Everything suddenly felt very exotic and I was proud of myself for getting myself here, granted mostly due to my friends extensive planning but still. I was in old town Marmaris in Turkiye. I’m trying to remember to spell Turkey the way the country actually wants it spelled.

The instagram street in a brief moment with no people

The place had a washing machine and I used my phone to translate the Turkish and got a load going. The cycle took forever. You’d think Eko would have been shorter but no.

I went to rest upstairs on…so sad…a really uncomfortable bed. I think it was actually a box spring and not a mattress. I could feel the springs and when I thwapped it, it made a sproing sound. I’d been so looking forward to a good nights sleep. Sigh!

My cat plus laundry

After I hung my wash to dry on the rack outside the apartment (feeling a bit nervous about this but if someone wanted to steal my underwear…well…nothing to be done about that.) I did some sightseeing. The old town is really beautiful. Steep hills, narrow street paths, bougainvillea everywhere popping against the blue sky and white walls.

E. and B. were having drinks with the last of the party to depart, so I joined them on a beautiful roof deck. And thankfully, a vodka tonic (no one has ever ordered this drink before, it seemed. Gin and tonics were on every menu, but time and again when I asked for a vodka tonic, the servers stopped dead in their tracks and looked at me like I was insane. I think I was both mispronouncing vodka, wodka maybe? And tonic, which I think maybe they called Schwepps. I dunno.) Oh anyway, having a drink made my land sickness feel better. A Russian family tromped up the stairs, the pretty but overly-made up daughter with huge artificial lips took a few selfies and they left without buying a drink.

The roof deck with a really disgusting pizza on the menu. I did have land sickness but still! Really?

I went back to my apartment to bring in the laundry and later met E. and B. for a romantic dinner at an Italian place overlooking the harbor. Oh my gosh, down road the dance clubs and bars were going off! Booming music, flashing lights. Party time!

Check out the strange blue underwater party lights on that boat. And hello moon.

I was happy to head home (the Instagram street was still crowded), say goodnight to the cats, and collapse onto my very springy bed.

Datca and data dump

August 24-28, 2026. Many places in Turkiye.

The next day we set off way too early–before dawn. I felt obliged to get up and watch the sun rise for hopefully the only time on the trip. I’m not a morning person. I’m glad I did. It was really pretty and since we were motoring past jagged mountains I got to see it rise again and again. Done and done!

We anchored near the town of Datca and went ashore in the dingy to visit the old town. While it was pretty, it was restored to the point of being a completely new place, so didn’t interest me in a historic way. It was very hot, and everyone ended up in a shaded passageway having drinks. On the plus side, there were lots of adorable, friendly cats who really wanted to be petted.

I was petting this cat and took a break to take a picture. You can see him/her getting ready to knead the rock.
You can also see the completely rebuilt wall.

Back on board, we had lunch and then motored east to Kochini Bay where we spent the night.

The following days unfolded in a similar manner. Wake up, swim, eat breakfast, motor to the next mooring spot, swim, eat lunch, swim, eat dinner, toss and turn in bed.

For some reason, everyone thought there wouldn’t be enough Aperol,
so we ended up with eight or so bottles on the boat. (We stocked the bar). So many Aperol Spritz.

Here’s a data dump of random experiences and musings as I fast forward through the rest of the week:

Semi-wild goats! I’m not sure why they were so thrilling. I don’t normally care about goats but climbing on the rocks in Turkiye they were captivating. There was also the reality that in our new, slow-paced life in nature, there wasn’t a lot of external entertainment (when we weren’t swimming). I watched people on other boats and speculated about their lives, watched boats come and go in the bays and hoped they wouldn’t park too close to us, watched fish, read a book I brought that wasn’t very good. So the goats were pretty exciting. We named some of them. We ooo-d and ahhh-d over the little babies trying to make it up the steep hills. We hoped the straggler would catch up and join his friends.

Overly-crowded bays. We pulled into one bay that was like a Walmart parking lot but with yachts. Me and D. were politely horrified and hoped we wouldn’t stay. We didn’t because there was literally not room for one more boat. Yikes. It’s kind of like driving for hours through the wilderness and ending up in a crowded campground. Totally not what you want. The next bay was also very crowded but prettier, though we were still a stone’s throw from other boats. I never imagined that when I pictured the trip. I thought we’d be all alone.

Mystery ruins. While some ruins, like the broken castle, were known, other ruins dotted the hillsides and weren’t anything special to the locals. I was agog, pointing, wanting to know who built that and when, but people have been building in the Mediterranean for the last 5000 years plus and that low rock wall could have been built by any of them. I’d have loved to visit more famous ruins and learn about them, but this was a swimming vacation and not a National Geographic tour, so I had to let it go.

Important? Who knows.

No American tourists. Yay! Turkish. Italian. Russian. New Zealand maybe? Anyway in this fraught time with our awful government it was nice to step out and get a broader perspective.

Being “single” with couples. R. did not come with me on this trip, thank god. He’d have hated it. Too hot, bad internet. Being on my own was very interesting. On the plus side, I liked not having to tell anyone what I was planning to do and when I’d be back. I jumped in the water when I wanted, went for a hike, read, went to bed, all without any negotiation. On the minus side, I did sometimes feel like a third wheel. I felt awkward at mealtimes, figuring out where to slot myself in. I also missed having a trusted partner and friend to shoot the shit with after a long day of new experiences. R. and I could text twice a day, but when one of us was tired and about to go to bed and the other had just woken up. I was a few more time zones away in Turkiye. All in all it was very good for me to feel my way through a trip with just myself. I’ve become lazy in some ways and accustomed to a division of labor and, spoiler alert, I returned home more willing to do what needs to be done and not perform mental algebra on who did it last and who was supposed to do this or that. I also gained empathy for my friends who don’t have a partner and have to contend with those of us who do.

The great outdoors. I like being outdoors. I’m not sporty but I am outdoorsy. I like watching the moon rise. I like watching the water change colors. I’m curious about the geology of places I didn’t know existed until this trip. I held tight as we zoomed across a bay in a dingy. I touched very old olive trees and stones carved 2000 years ago. I found pottery shards. I was afraid to go ashore after swimming to a beach because the goats looked fierce.

To be fair, many good things happen inside too. At home I admonish myself to get off the couch and go somewhere, and somewhere is usually inside. This week of being outside was so so good for me. A calming reset. Though to be completely honest…I was excited for the next portion of the trip and looked forward to getting back to Sogut and traveling on to Rhodes. I like cities too. : )

Bozukkale–the broken castle

August 23, 2026. Day 2 on the boat.

I woke to the sounds of breakfast loudly being prepared. My cabin was nearest to the galley and as I said, I kept my door cracked open. I got up and went for a swim–a great way to quickly clear my head after a tough night of broken sleep.

The water is so unbelievably beautiful. A color you can almost taste and crystal clear. I love the ocean but there are times and places I’ve been very nervous to enter. Waves, cloudy water, dense seaweed, rough rocks. To be able to jump in with no trepidation was a dream come true.

That’s a rock on the sea floor over 30 feet down

After breakfast (eggs, sausage, salad, tomatoes, cucumbers, cheese, bread with spreads, coffee and tea) we motored around the peninsula to the bay of Loryma, where we could see impressive ruins atop a hill, which we planned to visit at sunset.

That’s our boat on the left with the Turkish flag. Ruins to the right of the pine tree in the distance.

One of my companions told me there was a big pile of underwater ancient pottery adjacent to a distant buoy, so I swam and swam and never found it, and when I got back he said, oh sorry it wasn’t in this bay. I swam to shore and took a hike along a rocky prominence and explored some ruins. I stumbled and put my hand out to steady myself on a boulder and cut the heck out of my hand–the rocks were deadly sharp! In the future I will read more about the geology of this area.

Ancient pizza oven?

As sunset approached we took the dingy to the ruins, conveniently located near a dock and restaurant. “The Harbour Fortress was probably built at the beginning of the 3rd c. B.C. on behalf of Rhodes.” Wow. Just wow. The huge stone blocks used to construct the fortress wall were about three feet high, five feet long, and three feet deep. As far as I could tell the place was unrestored. Whereas the walls of the old town of Rhodes clearly had old and new rocks, this seemed to be in original condition. The website linked above says the ruins have not been ruined by tourists as there is no road to this place.

We sat on the top of the old fortification, drank wine, and watched the sun set. It was magical.

Back down in reality, a raucous group of party goers danced and sang on the dock. For some reason we couldn’t get in touch with our boat to have the dingy come back for us, so we had a drink in the restaurant which was a fun change of scene. Once back on the dock, waiting, a fancy new dingy pulled up (our dingy was very slow and shabby) and the driver yelled, “Erden!”

My friend the moon, back to help me orient. And can I say, great shot. : )
Everyone knows how hard it is to photograph the moon with a phone.

None of us got up, thinking it couldn’t be for us, but it turned out a friend of the captain was also anchored in the bay and he had them come get us. Niiiiiiccce. We zoomed back in comfort. I don’t know a lot about dingys but I looked at ours much more critically after this.

We had a late dinner and my fellow travelers grumbled about the party boats on the other side of the bay. They played loud music, flashed lights, and everyone danced. It sounded pretty fun to me. Lot’s of WOOOing. They were so happy and having a great time. I wanted to swim over there. I wasn’t going to be able to sleep anyway, so I’d rather not sleep listening to Abba and twenty-year olds having the time of their lives.

Yakamoz: the word in Turkish for the reflection of moonlight on water. I love this word in spite of the fact that my shipmates explained it to me at least twenty times. “Do you see that? You know what it’s called in Turkish?” I do, yes, I do. I now know two of the best words in Turkish, thank you and moonlight on water.

Setting sail (without a sail)

August 22, 2026. Sogut, Turkiye to not very far from Sogut

I woke excited to get on the boat but also sorry to leave the hotel. I really liked the end-of-the-dirt-road yet elegant vibe. It’s run by a small staff and though I didn’t speak Turkish and only one person spoke a little English, I appreciated the “let’s figure this, out don’t worry,” attitude. I’ve tried hard to learn a bit of the language on all my trips until now. I couldn’t learn Greek and Turkish and gave up and relied on my iphone. “Thank you” in Turkish is Teşekkürler – so you see what I was up against.

The evil eye coverup and hat I bought in Rhodes

After breakfast I took the kayak out and got a glimpse of our boat, the Erden, docked further down the beach. It felt like cheating–seeing it before the big reveal!

The white building in the center is our hotel, and you can’t actually see the Erden,
but it has the vibe of the ship with the tall mast

I packed up and sat in the patio with everyone else and waited for the crew to come and get us. They drove our luggage to the boat in someone’s car as it was a quarter mile on the afore mentioned dirt road and we all had roller bags.

We navigated a bobbing dock and climbed onboard and I was charmed. The boat was way bigger than I expected (72 feet long), and here is where I reveal I don’t know much boat terminology. I’m not going to look it up. Sorry. This is my blog. The back of the boat had a covered area (with solar panels on top of the roof) a large table and couch area, and the cabin where the captain and instruments and kitchen lived.

In front of that was an area with lounging pads and in front of that a couch and the prow of the boat (I know one thing!) and a barbecue attached to the railing where many meals would be cooked. Down the stairs were the six cabins. I was elated to discover I had my own private bathroom. I pictured there’d be one we all shared which would have been difficult. You can read more about the Erden if you want specs.

I liked the pretty wood of my cabin and there was enough storage. Since it was just me in there I could also leave things on the far side of the bed.

A crew of three ran things. The captain (who motored the boat then took the rest of the day off and smoked), a guy who set and cleared the table and made us drinks and took the dingy out to tie up the boat, and the poor cook who worked like crazy all day and night cooking for us. They didn’t speak any English which I appreciated as it provided a sort of privacy in the close quarters, but did put a lot of pressure on our two Turkish speaking friends every time we had a question.

We set sail…uh…except we didn’t sail. We never sailed. The captain turned on a loud diesel engine and we motored out of the harbor. I was shocked, but it turns out none of these romantic-looking boats ever sail. The masts are mainly for decoration. I confirmed this with my eyes throughout the week as we passed many boats just like ours. J. explained to me that the boats aren’t built for sailing, and the crew needs to get from place to place each day without fail, and you can’t count on the wind. That took the wind out of my sails, so to speak. Har har.

Boats like ours with no sails

We also didn’t motor for very long each day, which bummed me out a bit as I liked being on the move and lazily admiring the scenery. This first day, we very slowly cruised for an hour to a cove not too far from Sogut. This turned out to be one of the more interesting locations. We were the only boat there aside from a fishing boat (they were probably annoyed when we showed up), there were ruins, pottery shards on land and underwater, and a wild horse and donkey!

After we anchored and tied up (we backed in, as the anchor was in the front, dropped the anchor, and then crew guy number two tied us to shore in two places), they’d lower the ladder so we could easily get in the water, and everyone got their suits on and jumped into the water, which was warm and crystal clear.

E. and I swam to shore and explored the ruins and met the horse, which was a big thrill. He was friendly. I also found pottery shards on the ground amidst the ruins, also thrilling.

Wild horse next to an abandoned goat herder’s house

M., who’d been on this boat trip before, told me about the underwater piles of pottery I could expect to see near ruins, essentially trash heaps as many of the amphoras were meant to be disposable. I got my mask and snorkel and there they were! Too deep for me to dive and get but wow. Just wow. I also saw a sea turtle. I didn’t know they lived here. I was/am really ignorant about the Mediterranean in general, stupidly thinking only tropical islands had clear blue water and turtles and colorful fish. Another surprise was to learn there aren’t (noticeable) tides in the Mediterranean Sea. The strait of Gibraltar is too narrow to allow large volumes of water move in and out, so it felt like a big, calm lake.

My fellow traveler was able to dive deep and pick up pottery. Don’t worry we put it back!

Dinner was our first meal together and it was a great spread, many different dishes (fried potatoes, meat stew, salad, veggie in a yogurt sauce, bread). The food was delicious and abundant all week. I’m not used to three, full, sit down meals per day. It was both luxurious and overwhelming…I didn’t think I could skip a meal because of the hard work of the crew and the social aspect. It took me a few days to learn to eat less because another meal was coming soon.

After drinks and happy chatting and seeing the first of many moonrises, I headed to bed. And…yeah. Sleeping was a challenge. Several of the couples made up beds outside on the sun pads in the front of the boat. The crew slept on the couches in the back, and possibly in a dark hole in the front of the boat. I was looking forward to sleeping in my cute cabin but it was boiling hot, and at about 9 p.m. they turned on the diesel engine (to charge up batteries?) and the fumes and noise drifted in through my open portholes.

I had my door slightly propped open to allow for a cross breeze but not fully open as I was scantily attired, but many of my fellow passengers closed their doors completely so the breeze thing didn’t happen. Keep in mind, I’m from San Francisco where it’s always 65 degrees (meaning I’m a wimp), so having it be whatever temperature it was in there felt like boiling water, and the sweet smell of diesel fuel added to the feeling of being cooked. I had a small but powerful fan and that saved me, though I had to keep twirling around to get different parts of me cooled off.

I fully see you rolling your eyes and I agree. It’s pathetic to whine about a warm room in the midst of such an amazing adventure, but sleep is such a nice thing and with jet lag and being in my third bed in less than a week…ai yi yi!!!

Ten Perfect Strangers

August 20-22, 2026. Amsterdam to Rhodes to Marmaris to Sogut

We took an Uber to Schiphol airport, thank god. It was too early to deal with taking a bus to the central station and then taking the train. This was my first experience flying EasyJet and overall it was positive. To get on the plane, we walked out on the tarmac which always amuses me. The seats were comfortable enough for the 3.5 hour flight (longer than I expected!) and the flight attendants were friendly and professional. The seats did not recline which I appreciated as my knees would have been smashed.

I had a window seat and was eager to see territory that was completely new to me–Serbia, Bulgaria, and Greece. Unfortunately a heavy haze hung over all these places and I was barely able to make out any details.

Touchdown at Diagoras airport in Rhodes, Greece, and I was struck by the insanely beautiful blue water and the third-world Mexican resort town vibe. I’d expected it to be fancier. During the half hour cab ride to town along the northwest coast (with a very cranky and opinionated cab driver) we passed both upscale and very run-down resorts, charming small houses and abandoned buildings, small roadside businesses, crumbled sidewalks, and overweight sunburned tourists crossing the road to get to the rocky beaches. I had to switch mental gears from Santa Barbara to Tulum.

We got dropped off at one of the gates to Rhodes old town, right across from the ferry terminal where we’d be catching a 3 p.m. ferry to Marmaris, Turkey. We asked the cab driver if there was a luggage locker in the terminal and he said no, but said we could leave our bags at the rental car place–a small building right next to us. The nice woman behind the desk said yes, leave them by the fish tank. I was a little nervous but there was luggage all over the room and I didn’t want to drag my suitcase over cobblestones, so we trusted.

It was noon, and we were starving and went in search of lunch. My first impression of the old town was not good. 100% tourist shops, seemingly the same ones over and over again. Dress shop, jewelry shop, hat shop, shoe shop, souvenirs. Loud hosts entreating us to come in their restaurants. We picked a place on a rooftop with a good view and mediocre food. Afterwards we went in search of a liquor store (to stock up the boat) because we’d heard prices were high in Turkey. (They turned out to be the same or slightly cheaper). I also bought a hat and a coverup (which I love and want to wear all the time. It’s a big cotton shirt with evil eyes all over it. I realize it’s ironic I complained about the place being filled with tourist shops and then I bought things). I should keep mentioning that it was hot. Very hot.

Back at the rental car place we tried to pay the woman for watching our suitcases and she wouldn’t take any money! How nice! Across the street, we picked up our ferry tickets, wound our way through customs (hot), and got on the air conditioned ferry. I took a window seat and stared out at the beautiful blue sea. I thought you only got this color in the tropics.

An hour later we arrived in Marmaris, Turkey, a pretty city with terracotta-tile-roofed houses surrounded by pine forested hills. I liked it. We went through customs again and waited for two of our sailboat party to arrive on a later ferry. The happy surprise at this ferry terminal were the bunnies. Bunnies everywhere!

There are nine bunnies in this photo

The other couple arrived. They’re friends of E. and B. but I’d not previously met them. We got into the car we’d booked to take us to Sogut, where we’d spend two nights before getting on the sailboat. The car turned out to be a luxurious Maybach limo van with cool features like automatic trays that popped out at the touch of a button and a built in coffee maker. The road to Sogut (1.5 hours), up and over a mountain, had the craziest hairpin turns I’d ever experienced. Also, exotic sights, like little towns with goats and mosques.

At this point I was completely agog. The day was blowing my mind in the best way. New experiences every moment. Vistas I could never have imagined.

Turned out there were two parts of Sogut, north and south and not connected. The driver went the wrong way (south) and I was glad about that, as it was a cute town, beachy vibe with lots of little restaurants and hotels, tan global nomad chicks in bikinis and coverups wandering the streets. It looked fun. After some cell phone waving and pointing, we headed back up the hill and over to the north side. Also very cute but less populated.

We bumped down the gravel road to our beachfront hotel, Villa Castelle, just before sun set and I was smitten. It was just like the website photos but better. Two-story, whitewashed, clean modern rooms, small but deep saltwater pool. Everyone threw their bags in their rooms and jumped into the pool. (It was hot).

And this was when it got even better with–KITTENS! Adorable frolicking kittens by the pool and a friendly momma cat who clearly knew that humans provide food.

After we cleaned up we went to dinner at a restaurant down the road. Thankfully E. and B. knew what to do, because before we sat down (tables were outside by the water) we were meant to pick out the meze starters from a case inside the restaurant.

The next morning we had the interesting included (Turkish?) breakfast out on the patio, dreamy except for the wasps. The plan for the day was to visit a beachfront village, Selimiye, just over the hill and I was really torn. I was already at a beachfront village with a pool and cats and had taken every conceivable form of transportation the day before and was tired of moving. That said, what new adventures awaited? I went.

We also got eggs, cooked to order

A woman from the hotel crammed the five of us (six including her) into a four-seater car and drove us the half hour to the town, necessitating lap-sitting by the couples. It was a cute place, 100% a resort town, with restaurants and hotels along the narrow rocky shoreline. I wished I’d worn my swimsuit as it was hot and after I shopped a bit, walked the pedestrian path along the water, and eaten an ice cream cone, there wasn’t much to do outdoors without melting. I spent half an hour in a grocery store to cool off.

It’s hard to see, but this is the cute shoreline path, restaurants and hotels on the right, and the tiny rock beach on the left, only about 8 feet deep. Less in some areas.

Back at the hotel we jumped in the pool, played with the cats, and I took the hotel’s kayak out for a quick paddle before dinner.

Then…everyone else who would be traveling with us on the boat arrived at the hotel and it suddenly felt like a reality TV show. Ten perfect strangers. My friend jokingly told me not to drink the smoothies. (A reference to the Nicole Kidman show, Nine Perfect Strangers, where she doses everyone with mushrooms during a wellness retreat).

I was good friends with E. and B., had been at social functions but not really talked to two of the other couples, and didn’t know three of the people at all. We were all about to spend a week on a boat together. How would this work out?

Amsterdam-Greece-Turkey-Greece-Utrecht

First stop, Amsterdam, August 18-20, 2026

I had a crazy travel schedule in August, like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I love to travel but I’m going to try hard not to repeat this.

I took an art class in Chicago with my mom July 25 through August 2. August 5-9 I was in Las Vegas for Def Con. August 14-16 I was at the Russian river for a chick weekend we’d planned ages ago (so hard to find a weekend when five people are free) and on the 17^th I flew to Amsterdam.

The rental house we stayed in for chick weekend. Lush and beautiful garden!

By this point my head was thoroughly spinning and it didn’t stop spinning until September 3 when I accidentally got on the wrong train to Schiphol airport and found myself taking a leisurely tour of half of the Netherlands. I’d left early so it was fine, and the train wasn’t crowded since it was a local and I had the car mostly to myself. I always feel anxious that someone is going to yell at me loudly in a language I don’t understand that my suitcase is in the way, though there is never anywhere to put it (because that’s happened), so being in an empty car was a dream. The rain started right after I got on and I felt cozy and smug since I’d avoided getting soaked.

I looked out the window at orderly Dutch towns, admiring the occasional windmill, and feeling very at peace and very happy to be in the moment. Travel is so much stressful rushing around it’s often hard to be where you are and not get stuck in your head planning the next steps. I was finally able to take a deep breath and relax. But to back up a few weeks…

Monday, August 17, SFO. They shut the plane doors and told the flight attendants to take their seats and…the two seats next to me were empty. OMG I won the lottery. I would be able to lay down and sleep. I thanked the universe. And then. The woman in the dreaded middle section politely asked if she could move over to the aisle seat. I was in the window. NOOOOO! But what could I say? It wasn’t my seat. I was so sad. I tried to regroup and be happy the seat next to me was empty but I never convinced myself.

I didn’t really sleep but I did see some pale northern lights. Arriving at Schiphol airport, I got my bags and made myself stop and get a coffee and croissant. It was late morning and my friends, at whose house I’d be staying, had just said goodbye to another house guest and I wanted to give them a moment of peace before I burst in.

My friends’ lovely backyard is on a canal and has a view of the only windmill in Amsterdam’s city center

I took a train and then bus to their place and we chatted while they ate lunch. To back up even further–they are the reason I was on this trip.

Every few years they take what looked like an amazing week-long sailing trip in the Aegean, zig-zagging between Greece and Turkey. They’ve invited R. and I to join them, but this trip is R.’s idea of hell. Hot. No internet. No air conditioning. Small bed. Sketchy bathroom. Swimming. Because of this I’ve always declined but thankfully my friends continued to ask and this year I realized I could go on my own. It felt odd to take a major trip without R. but it also felt odd that it felt odd. I worried I was getting too used to couples travel and only having to do half the work and half the thinking. That pushed me over to yes.

Amazing details

I arrived in Amsterdam a few days early to get over jet lag before we got on the boat. That afternoon I wandered groggily around the city until I gave up, went to the nearby supermarket and bought a selection of random beers and went back to the house. For me, having a drink ameliorates some of the feelings of jet lag since that and being tipsy are similar. My dear friends managed to keep me awake until 10 p.m. with a weird movie. Success!

The next morning I was up before them and took a tram to the Stedelijk museum (dodging rain) and saw an exhibit about mid-century modernist designer Kho Liang Ie. He designed a “new” terminal for Schiphol airport in the late ’60s as well as many other buildings and objects.

Pre-fab style kitchen designed by Kho Liang Ie

More wandering after. My friends texted to say that our mutual friend B. (who’d moved to Amsterdam years ago and lives on a houseboat) had time to take us on a canal tour on his smaller non-houseboat.

It was very interesting to set food in one of the ubiquitous Amsterdam houseboats. I wouldn’t want to live in one. Faint motion in a home isn’t for me. The boat ride through the canals was very fun. We drank rosé and waved to people onshore and B. turned up the music every time we went under a bridge.

Back at the house, E. wanted to take me kayaking and I couldn’t refuse. When we visited in February I said they had to get kayaks and now there they were. : ) I was feeling a wave of jet lag, but a rigorous paddle cured that. And also made my physically tired since I’d not kayaked in months.

We had to wake up at 4 a.m. the next day to catch our flight to Rhodes, and this time jet lag worked in my favor as my body didn’t know what the heck time it was at obediently woke at 3:30 with no alarm.

Naked in Chicago (or, art school for a week)

July 25-August 2, 2026

I just returned from taking a week-long life drawing class at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago with my mom. We’ve been talking about going away to take a summer art class for years, but neither of us ever figured it out in time. A few months ago I discovered the Art Institute had adult education classes and sent the schedule to my mom. She likes Chicago and my nephew (her grandson) lives there so this plan was a winner.

She chose “Anatomy for Life Drawing.” I’ve always struggled with life drawing (that’s code for I’m bad at it) and would have been happy to never take it again but, shrug. Never say never I guess.

This cover of a notebook in the gift shop of the Contemporary Art Museum that made me laugh

I rented an apartment so we could have our own bedrooms and a kitchen for breakfast and a living room for evening lounging if we didn’t want to go out. The apartment was in the Fisher Building (from Wikipedia): “completed in 1896 by D.H. Burnham & Company^[3]. At the time of its completion, the building was one of two buildings in Chicago that was 18 stories or greater. To this day, the Fisher Building is the oldest 18 story building in Chicago.”

The apartment was great inside, well-furnished with epic views that included skyscrapers, the lake, and an apartment building across from us whose windows were like dozens of tiny TVs that I watched throughout the week. Most people didn’t close their blinds and we didn’t either so I figured it was a fair trade as far as spying went. My favorite was “messy girl” apartment. While most units were generically clean, her floor was littered with clothes and shoes and other crap and the configuration changed every day. One night I saw her hurriedly picking things up and called to my mom, “I think she’s got a date!” and sure enough an hour later a man’s legs were visible (we were higher and heads were generally out of view).

On the minus side, this was the noisiest place I’ve ever stayed at. I thought being on the 17^th floor would mean train noise wouldn’t be an issue but the elevated line ran right in front of the building. Trains took a sharp turn two blocks away and screeched and threw up sparks as bright as lighting – really! When I lay in bed the flashes were like someone was arc welding in the room. Other instruments in the noise symphony included twelve giant fans on the roof of the DePaul university building directly east of us, facing our unit, all turning furiously and causing a huge din. It was awful. Finally add in the sirens. Unpredictable sirens that usually quieted down around 3 a.m. or 4 a.m. and started up again around 7 a.m.

Good view, yeah? I like the plaid ceiling.

Alright, enough whining. The first night we had dinner at a historic German place, the Berghoff (founded in the late 1800’s) that my mom’s friend recommended. Any historic charm had been renovated away long ago, but it was a fun place with average pub food and I was happy to be there.

Sunday was a free day before class started and we had breakfast out, visited the Museum of Contemporary Art (just okay), and saw the bean aka Cloud Gate and watched kids frolicking at the fun video walls that squirt water. Finally, really good Mexican food at Momento Cantina.

Obligatory photo of the bean. How do they keep it clean?

Monday was a scramble to get to class on time (we failed). We were at a disadvantage due to the time change; Chicago is two hours ahead of California, and we had to pick up our student IDs at a different location than the class. SAIC (acronym for the art school) has buildings all over the place. Many classes started that day, including some for little kids and middle schoolers, so the place was chaotic, but we got our very official plastic badges with our photos and a lanyard boldly printed “SCHOOL OF THE ART INSTITUTE OF CHICAGO” which I wore proudly all week. The cool, full-time art students hid theirs away immediately after scanning in.

The teacher was in mid-lecture when we skulked in, having negotiated a confusing maze to find the classroom. Ours was on the third floor, the top, and had good natural light but like CCA in San Francisco, they’d made the “artistic” decision to have half-height walls separate the classrooms, which meant we got to listen to the hilarious and fun class next door to us (wished I was there) while we silently and studiously learned about skeletons and muscles and proportions.

The thrill of that first day was the summer storm. We never get rain in the summer in California so I eagerly checked my phone weather app and watched the big storm bearing down on us. I stood outside at lunch as the rain started. Fun, hot rain. When we returned to the classroom we found the rain continued, indoors. The roof leaked extensively. Not little drips but streams of water that filled full-sized garbage cans. The cleaning crew muttered about tornado warnings. What? It was true. Tornados touched down in surrounding suburbs, ripping limbs from trees (I found out later).

We moved our easels to the dry side of the room and class continued. The format all week was lecture and drawing from drawings in the morning, and live models in the afternoon. I laughed so hard in my head when my mom remarked, “He has a very large penis.” Ah, the best mother/daughter artistic getaway ever!

That afternoon, we’d just about made it back to the apartment and stopped in for coffee during a normal, partly cloudy but bright day. When we walked out, it was like night. Very dark–the streetlights had turned on and cars drove with headlights. Midwesterners will laugh at my amazement as I’m sure this type of storm is common but it was brand new to me.

We got back before the first drops hit. The view of the storm from our high floor was great! Sheets of rain, hail, wind, thunder, lightning! I opened the big window to take a video and in minutes the floor was soaked. Then, an hour later, the storm passed and the sun came out. I took a walk and appreciated the shiny, wet streets.

On Tuesday we took the Chicago Architecture boat tour. We barely made it as the streets were gridlocked with after work traffic. Oh – I forgot to mention how we lucked out with the weather. The temperatures ranged from low 70’s to mid 80’s. A friend of R.’s who lived there said they were the best days of all summer. It was so cool I almost wished I had a sweatshirt while on the boat. The tour was good and had me itching to do more boat things, though there wasn’t time.

I liked Bertrand Goldberg’s brutalist River City condo complex. 1986.

The most surprising thing to me was that the lake is blocked off from the river with a lock. I read later the lake water level is higher than the river and needs to be managed. I won’t go into the whole thing about them reversing the flow of the river to send Chicago waste downstream instead of into the lake. It was a shady business, and on top of that, Chicago didn’t start disinfecting its sewage until 2016…gross and negligent.

Thursday we decided to play hooky from school. My mom lamented that we were in Chicago and barely getting to see it and I agreed. Also, I really needed a break from life drawing. It was a tough and frustrating class. I could either painstakingly construct grids and make everything the proper proportions by measuring heads, or I could wing it, have fun drawing, but then have most drawings come out “wrong,” usually with the people having giant heads. I’m glad I wasn’t an art major. It might have taken the joy out of it to study it full time.

In this exercise we started by drawing the model with blocks, then added details over that.

My mom had big plans of the things we’d do together, but after a great breakfast outdoors, I cut myself loose and took a long bike ride along the lakeshore. The only downside of this experience was me not getting my normal amount of exercise every day and I was getting a little antsy. The ride was great. The lake was a striking blue I hadn’t expected, and the wildflowers along the shore were so beautiful and so tall–like nothing I’d ever seen in California.

An interesting/fun though sometimes annoying twist to the week was that the Lollapalooza music festival was happening in a park literally across the street from the building where the art class was held. First day, the uber driver was able to drop us off right by the building. Day 2, part of the road was blocked off and we had to walk a block. Day 3 we couldn’t get anywhere near the place and had to be dropped off blocks away and go through a couple of security checkpoints. The crowds and bands were right there, separated only by tall chain link fences. I could see a stage from a grassy mound and watched for awhile, which was fun.

The city sidewalks were filled with armies of young women in Festive Attire. Extremely short shorts or miniskirts, skimpy top, maybe a glittery see-through shawl, and then boots or sneakers. My mom was overjoyed. She loved that they all dressed up. We both wondered where the guys were–all we saw were women.

Unfortunately, the festival closed many streets and I couldn’t walk to the lake even though it was only a few blocks away. It was great watching everyone leave the festival each night at 10 p.m. We had a great view.

Saturday was drizzly so we went to the Art Institute. They have a really great, huge collection and I saw many paintings I loved. No photos since I checked my bag, which is for the best as who needs to see a photo of art? A nice moment. I was looking at a Jackson Pollack painting, Greyed Rainbow, when a man came up beside me and exclaimed, “I’ve been looking all over for this one!” His son is an art student and got his dad interested in art, and he, the dad, really loves Jackson Pollack. It was also nice to hear young people critically discussing paintings. I never encounter that in museums in San Francisco.

Sunday we had a late flight out and thus had time to visit Frank Lloyd Wright’s home and studio in Oak Park. He bought the lot, which was in the middle of nowhere at the time with prairie just across the road, and designed the house himself. He was 21(??), working at an architecture firm in Chicago and newly married. Interesting fact: the great Chicago fire of 1871 destroyed much of the downtown and subsequently created a huge demand for architects as the city was rebuilt. Frank Lloyd Wright met his wife at the firm where he worked.

The studio, added on later, was much more bright and spacious-feeling than the house. And what a nice drafting table!

His house was fairly modestly-sized and many of the rooms felt cramped. There were hints of his developing style but also some goofy (to my eye) classical Roman art reproductions around. He wired the house for electricity even though it hadn’t yet come to the town yet. His studio, built later and attached to the house, was very bright and spacious.

Many of the first homes he designed were in the neighborhood, and as a special added bonus, I discovered the house where Hemingway was born was just around the corner so I paid it a visit.

Frank Lloyd Wright-designed houses, very different and just across the street from each other.
The one on the left is a strange mish-mash to my eye.

All in all this was a great trip, though the art class was a bit intense, and it was a struggle to stay focused when an exciting city pulsed with life just outside the classroom windows. If I took an art class like this again, I’d chose a more boring location, or a location that incorporated the environment with the class. Like, tree painting–go outside and find a tree! Something like that. Still, it was great and nice to spend the week with my mom learning and growing and not just doing tourist things.

Black cows look better in the shade

A short trip to Oroville, California to see wildflowers

March 25-27, 2026

Springtime in California is glorious. My favorite time of year. The normally golden (aka covered in dead grass) hills are a vivid green, and wildflowers pepper the slopes. It’s a magical time and I try to get out into nature as much as I can before everything dries out again. It doesn’t last long.

A friend of mine mentioned she’d gone to see wildflowers on Table Mountain near Oroville and I was intrigued. My first question was, where is Oroville? It’s north of Sacramento and I’ve never been through there as far as I can recall. It’s adjacent to a huge reservoir, Lake Oroville, which has the tallest dam in U.S. (770 feet). 

We had a few days free mid-week so I figured why not check it out. It’s only three hours from here and we had credit card points to pay for the hotel. 

This was the longest trip (I think?) we’ve taken our little electric car on and though we could have just about made it we did stop for lunch and a charge in Davis, which worked out well and saved us from stressing.

We checked into an adequate but sad Hampton Inn and Suites, with its plastic and fake wood furniture and in-window air conditioners. The doors to the lobby are permanently locked (you have to have a key to get in, which is hard when you haven’t checked in) and the front desk featured a large sign warning guests not to leave anything of value in your car. Made me worry we were in a bad neighborhood. One statistics site said Oroville is safer than 2% of cities in California! Hah! 

I went for a swim in the tiny indoor pool to perk up after driving. Perking achieved, we jumped back into the car and drove up to the dam (which faces west) for sunset, which was as spectacular as I’d hoped. Many locals were up there as well, walking dogs and admiring the view. Even though it’s the tallest dam in the U.S. it’s not dramatic because it’s made of earth, covered in grass, and slopes down like a natural hill. 

That’s Table mountain to the right

We had dinner at Shakey’s Pizza on the way back. My bad. I was nostalgic because I hadn’t seen one of these restaurants since I was a kid. It was not good. Thin cardboard-esque crust and tasteless sauce and cheese. Back at the hotel we had a drink in the overly lit lobby bar and then watched a movie in our room. 

Lake Oroville

The next morning I set off for Table Mountain on my own. R. has a pinched nerve in his shoulder and the drive here didn’t do it any good, so he decided to rest for the morning. Table mountain was easy to spot. Steep cliffs rising up north of town and a fairly flat top. I’d have called it a mesa if we were in the southwest, but it seems like mesas form from erosion, and this mountain is volcanic basalt. The twenty-five-minute drive to the trailhead was great – on a twisty, tiny road, two-lane road with no traffic and lovely scenery. 

My worries that I might get murdered out hiking on my own vanished when I saw the crowded parking lot and the wide-open grassland with scattered oaks and a well-trod path. And the cows. There were cows everywhere on the North Table Mountain Ecological Reserve–which is open to grazing. 

There weren’t as many wildflowers as I’d expected. Overall, though, it was beautiful up there with scattered flowers and the green grass set off by lumpy piles of black lava. I saw the tiniest California poppies I’d ever seen. Flowers smaller than a dime. I noticed that some variety of yellow flowers had already bloomed and died.

I found a patch of wildflowers and crouched down to make it look extensive

I’d planned to walk to Phantom Falls but I’ve learned my lesson…so many falls aren’t falling and that name was particularly suspicious. I asked a woman with a kid and a dog if she’d been to the falls and she said yes, but it was more of a trickle. I knew it!

In lieu of going another mile (up and down a canyon) I wandered out on my own until I got to the western edge of the plateau which offered a hazy view of the central valley. It was a great hike and all the nature I’d been craving. 

Back at the hotel R. was ready to go, so we had a great Mexican lunch and then went car hiking on the “scenic route 70 bypass.” I only put that in quotes because I learned about it from a brochure in the hotel lobby (which activated my inner skeptic), but surprise – it was scenic, almost breathtaking at points as we hugged the steep side of mountain on the way down the river ravine. 

The starring photo in the brochure was a “steel arch highway bridge” over a railway “three-span through-truss bridge.” I really wanted to photograph the bridges but there were no pullouts. We doubled back and stopped, blocking a scary one-lane road and I took my life in my hands running up the highway as there was little or no shoulder (giant semi trucks use this road.) Amazing luck – a train passed by when we were there. Perfect. 

I was feeling done with sightseeing after this busy day, but relaxing in our room at the Hampton Inn with a view of the parking lot, a Starbucks, and a Panda Express wasn’t very relaxing. I like to imagine I can entertain myself anywhere, but if I could have teleported home I would have, and taken a nice shower with good water pressure. 

I took another swim in the silly pool and we had dinner at a nicer restaurant in historic Oroville. Restaurant was good, nice décor, but had only four other patrons–a happy group of three that soon left, and a sullen, paunchy guy in shorts, flip flops and baseball cap that wandered in and downed beer after beer and talked nonstop to the poor captive bartender woman.

Back at the hotel we watched a movie in our room again. I worried I’d taken R. on a substandard getaway but he assured me it’s always good to leave the house. 

The next morning I took a walk along the river and through town. Oh – I forgot to mention we stopped at the river on our way back from the scenic drive. It was pretty and populated by fewer homeless than I’d have expected. I saw only three. While I was wading in the river a group of three cheerful men yelled “God Bless you!” to me, and I said, You too. They tried to give R. a pamphlet we he refused but they didn’t hastle him. They then had a group prayer with one of the homeless dudes, which I thought was nice. 

The drive home was smooth with lunch and a charge in Davis again. 

After a good night’s sleep in my own bed, memories of this short trip began to take on a rosy glow. We had a fun adventure and saw many new things, surprising things, and the nagging feeling I’m not taking advantage of the wonders around me vanished. For now. : ) 

(If you didn’t get the reference in the post title, I was thinking of an 80’s song, “Black Cars” by Gio Vanelli. Now I can’t get this song out of my head!)

Paris doesn’t love me. London thinks I’m cute.

March 1, 2026, London

It’s our last day in London and I’m feeling sad about leaving and quietly panicked that I didn’t do all the things I should have done and seen all the sights. Trying to find information on the web has been super frustrating. The top five hits on any search are usually pure garbage, as the sites that rise to the top are usually very prolific bloggers who have some domain like “love to brunch” and tons of content, SEO optimized, but no real knowledge of London. They’ve just scraped other blogs.

I bought a paper book, “The 500 Hidden Secrets of London,” hoping it was better curated (and with no ads) but after going way out of my way to visit an amazing craft boutique that turned out to be a small and expensive one-room art gallery, I threw it back into my suitcase.

I like the juxtaposition of old and new in London

I vaguely wanted to “go shopping” today, hoping to get some interesting clothes, but I don’t think I was really in the mood. Plus it was raining again. I walked to Liberty (current location built in 1924, most of the wood used was taken from old battle ships), mostly to look at the building which is beautiful, but the clothing is unaffordable.

From there, R. and I hoped to have lunch at Mercato Metropolitano in Mayfair, in a food hall built inside an old church, but as we’ve experienced in other food halls on the trip, it was packed. More than packed. Crawling with people jostling one another and zero places to sit. It was very frustrating and not fun.

Luckily, we stumbled into an amazing Asian place, Ivy Asia, just a few blocks away with the most amazing floors I’ve ever seen as well as excellent food. Was it just a tiny bit tacky and overdone? Suuuuure. Yes. It was. But the floor was real stone, lit from beneath, and I couldn’t stop staring.

I walked through Selfridges because I was there, but it was a pretty standard department store, though it did have a giant, scary, moving robot face, and stylized mannequins that seemed to have been built from whatever was laying around in the storeroom. A wooden body like the little art models students use, a white plastic face, and realistic human hair. Blech! Pick a style.

That evening we had a drink on our street (more staff than clients but no one wanted to help us, so I shouldn’t only complain about Paris). Next, we headed to Space Talk, a hi-fi listening bar. People are meant to listen to and appreciate the music vs. just yammering loudly all night. The interior design of the bar was both futuristic and calming, if that makes any sense. Lot’s of dark wood, browns and greens, comfy chairs, interesting angles, subdued lighting.

All that said, no one besides us seemed to be paying particular attention to the music, though it was a mellow, happy crowd and once we said hi to the DJ and praised his choices, we too got more wrapped up in conversation than in careful listening. It was a little like being a very rich friend’s living room on a Friday night. You aren’t supposed to take photos in there–I assume they are trying to keep out the instagram crowd–so while I may have snuck a few I won’t post them.

When we left I was startled and happy to stumble upon a site from my to-do list, another ornate Victorian industrial marvel–Smithfield Market, a wholesale meat market opened in 1868. It was 10:30 p.m. and trucks were beginning to roll in. I would have liked to see the inside but I was a little intimidated. I shouldn’t have been such wimp. It’s scheduled to be relocated and this might have been my only chance to see it in action.

We caught the last train back to our neighborhood–they literally pulled the gates down behind us after we got off the escalator. I didn’t know some lines shut down like this. Glad we made it!

And that was pretty much it. A wrap on our vacation minus the dragging the suitcases down 70 steps the next morning and getting back on the tube and then the plane.

Greenland. The plane is over 30,000 feet. Those mountains must be huge!

What a good vacation. Having friends who live in Europe adds a relaxing and grounding element and also makes me think harder about the effect of tourism on cities. If I were a mathematician I expect I’d be able to make a formula that included the population of the city, the number of major sights, the number of tourists, and with that be able to calculate if me going to a place is harmful.

Of all the places we visited, I felt most welcome in London. You might think, yeah, of course, but having people eager to talk to me and expect that I lived there despite my accent went a long way in making me feel comfortable. Someone asked me, where are you from, and I said San Francisco, and they said, but you live here now. I smiled.

California is the fourth largest economy in the world, “according to the IMF’s 2024 World Economic Outlook data released yesterday, and BEA data California’s nominal GDP reached $4.1 trillion, surpassing Japan’s $4.02 trillion, and placing California behind only the United States, China, and Germany in global rankings,” but we aren’t very worldly in our day to day lives, and I wish we were. I like being part of an international community.

My family teases me about traveling so often, but I don’t spend a lot on other things (same shoes, same jackets, same car). Travel resets and reorganizes my brain every time without fail and I need that. I took a three-week vacation from the news and made some of my own. : )

Victorian Decadence

February 28, 2026, London

I slept well and woke naturally after eight hours. Jet lag finally vanquished–just before I head home. I had tea and a piece of toast and then headed out to the former home and studio of Victorian artist Lord Frederic Leighton (1830-1896). I knew of his work and my friends told me about his fantastic place in London.

I’ve been stopped in my tracks by so many bakery windows on this trip and worked really hard to look but not eat. R. and I have been on a diet and I didn’t want to get home and have lost six months of progress. Today though, about five minutes into my walk to the tube station, i passed a bakery with beautiful crisp pain au chocolates in the window and I went in and bought one and it was GREAT. It was so flaky parts of it blew away in the wind when I bit in. My gosh I wish I had a different metabolism and could eat pastries all the time.

I took the tube to…what was probably the wrong stop but I had a nice walk through Holland Park and its posh scary neighborhoods where you clearly can never paint your identical house any color but beige. There was a protest in front of an embassy, but I didn’t recognize the flag and I’ve been on a vacation from bad news, so I didn’t know what it was about.

Leighton’s house was great! Lush Victorian decoration done right. I loved it. There were so many patterns and colors and textures…it should have been too much but everything was high quality and designed with an artists eye. I wanted to touch everything and lay around and wished I could have gone to one of the many parties he threw. It wasn’t very crowded and the volunteers weren’t intrusive, so I was often in a room by myself and could just “be” there and imagine I was a guest.

He was a bachelor and his sexuality is a “mystery” (he left no journals or letters) but my guess is super secret gay. The house, the drawings of hot men writhing around in agony. Just saying. It seems like most male artists of the time had wives, lovers, ex-wives, a smattering a kids, so his completely blank slate is unusual.

The Arab hall, modeled on a 12th century palace in Sicily. Many of the tiles are 16th century, from Damascus.

It turned out the interior was/is being faithfully recreated because when Leighton died, everything was auctioned off (by Christies). I wonder who got all the money? Thankfully there was a catalog and they are buying back what they can and getting similar pieces when they can’t. Oh and also, the house was damaged by a bomb in world war two, which the website doesn’t mention. I didn’t know there was a backlash against Victorian decor in the early 20th century, but of course there was. The last thing always needs to be thrown under the bus so people can be more modern.

I love art deco, mid-century modernism and minimalism, but this maximalist house blew my mind and helped me imagine what intense decoration could be done to any room. I’d like to make our house more lush.

Afterwards I took the bus to the Tate Britain, not modern. The bus was diverted due to other protests and it took forever to get there. I was so starving I almost ate in a Pret A Manger. When I finally made it to the Tate, the Turner/Constable exhibit was sold out! In despair I got an egg salad sandwich from the museum cafe, regrouped, and visited the permanent collection, which I really liked. Famous stuff and artists I’d never heard of.

Ophelia, 1851–52 painting by John Everett Millais and beloved by overdramatic teenage girls.

I bussed back home and was stunned to find our neighborhood overrun by weekend crowds, everyone walking in the streets though they were not closed to traffic.

I took a brief rest before we went to meet E. and B. for Indian dinner. The show they’d come to see, musician Andrew Bird performing with a symphony orchestra, was tonight at the Barbican Center. We’d tried to get tickets weeks ago but it was sold out, however I went online and found seats had opened up at the last minute and we got them.

The walk from the tube was weird, no people and the street seemed to be underground. The Indian restaurant had good food…though down in a basement. I don’t enjoy being in windowless rooms.

The Barbican development is fascinating. The adorable young man sitting next to me at the concert, 18 and wearing a suit (his Dad is from echo park in Los Angeles) told me the development was 60 years old and not always popular but now considered a great place to live because you can own the flats outright no city of London interfering. (?)

I read more about it later. It was built on a site that had been completely destroyed in WWII, and the architects wanted to build a new city within the city, with 2000 flats as well as a school, library, art center, big pond, all raised above street level and in the brutalist style (aka big concrete). Construction started in 1965 on forty acres. It’s loved and hated, and has been used as a backdrop for futuristic and dystopian movies. I’m sorry I don’t have any photos. It was too dark.

The Andrew bird concert was amazing! The orchestra was so good! Energetic! The conductor was great! I’m so embarrassed not to know much of Andrew Bird’s work. He sold the place out. I loved it though. Wow. Though it was sold out the two seats in front of us were empty so we had an extra great view.

We returned home to find our neighborhood still abuzz.