What Noam and I Have Been Doing . . .

2005

2004

2003

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Tokyo, December 28, 2005 - January 2, 2006

Okay, confession time. I sometimes wish I could say that for me, travel was about my intense appreciation for the art and culture of other places, or maybe my great thirst for profound and thoughtful human connection with people from other landscapes, but I cannot. No. For me, it's about food. I travel to eat my way around other places. I can unequivocally recommend Japan as a great place to eat lots of weird and good things. So, here is a chronicle of all the stuff we ate. We arrived in the evening, had dinner, and went to bed early. The next morning, while we were all jetlagged anyway, we went early early in the morning to the fish market in Tokyo to check out the fish, then had a great sushi breakfast. One highlight of the fish market was a stall with a big poster showing all the species of whale, as in "these are delicious," not so much "these are endangered." Here is a guy sawing up a huge frozen chunk of tuna with a band saw:

Mmmm, octopus:

After the fish market, we went to the Sensoji temple, where we thankfully found lots of good food vendors. Here is a cool machine that makes little red bean paste goodies.

One new years eve, we went to Kamakura, a town near Tokyo with some good shrine action, and some great sweet potato ice cream, pictured below:

We had lunch at the Hase Kannon temple, nice udon and soba noodles with a nice view. Lunch before:

Lunch after:

New years day, we went to the Meiji shrine in Tokyo, where people go to ask for whatever it is they need in the new year. I asked for, and gratefully received, a chocolate covered banana from the Shinto gods.

Our last day, we went to the imperial palace, where we were instructed NOT to eat the mochi Noam had stashed in his bag. Oh, and we saw the emperor. Mmm, mochi.

Trail Riding at Rancho San Antonio, December 27, 2005

Since it was a Tuesday and kind of cold and rainy, Noam, DeeDee, and I headed to Rancho San Antonio for a trail ride, hoping to avoid at least some of the throngs and the pain-in-the-ass parking situation for horse trailers there. We were the only trailers, but there were still a lot of people. It actually rained while we were in the truck on the way there so I thought we would be riding in the rain, but it cleared a tad by the time we got there and held off while we were riding. Click here for a map of Rancho San Antonio. We rode the Coyote trail to the High Meadow trail, where we stood dumbly at a five way junction talking to people and getting conflicting directions and recommendations, then set off randomly down one of the five trails, which turned out to be Upper High Meadow trail (maybe). I love the Coyote and High Meadow trails because they are narrow, in the woods, and really beautiful. I have been told by other riders that people at Rancho San Antonio get pissy when they see horses, more so than at other parks, but I had not experienced that until a runner passed us, looked at me disapprovingly, and said "isn't it a little wet to be riding horses?" I politely said "excuse me?" as if I couldn't hear him, but really I guess I was trying to buy time to come up with something to say. I never did, and he was gone. DeeDee reminded me that I should have said all our horses are barefoot and therefore cause far less soil compaction and damage to trails than horses with metal horseshoes. For the rest of the ride when any runner passed she asked if he was the guy in question, and when I said no she told all of them anyway about the barefoot thing. I love DeeDee, she is so well spoken and such a good ambassador. Me and DeeDee on the Coyote trail:

Noam on the High Meadow trail:

Christmas in the midwest, December 21-26, 2005

Noam and I arrived at O'Hare on Wednesday night, picked up Hannah, then met John, Rachel Bishop, and Hannah's friend Bo at a nice lesbian bar in Hannah's neighborhood. Rachel and I got to talk at length about horses, thank god, since I probably hadn't had a long conversation about horses for at least, like 18 hours. Thursday morning we drove to Cheeseland to hang with dad and Sparky. Thank goodness there was snow so Hannah, Noam, and I could take Sparky for a walk and observe this weird behavior where she gets down to snow level and sort of slithers along on the ground. She looks like a river otter or similar, but sadly it is surprisingly difficult to capture on film:

Friday morning was spent in Madison laboring over cookie production. We had these excellent draw-on-your-food markers that I must have praised about fifty times. I think I get that from dad's side of the family:

Friday afternoon we left for Milwaukee, just in time to open this sweet sausage gift box mom got from a customer, or vendor, or something. This kind of thing can really make you miss living in the midwest . . .

Here is mom, dressed for battle on Christmas eve:

Dad and John came to Milwaukee for dinner and presents Christmas eve at mom's house, here is dad opening his most awesome Fiddler on the Roof music . . . thing? statue? what-have-you? while John looks on with great jealousy:

Christmas day we headed to Mosinee for Christmas with the extended family, then back to Madison where Noam fished around dad's house looking for half-burned candles and used them to construct the saddest menorah ever. Monday morning, back to California!

Trail Riding at Joseph D. Grant County Park, December 10, 2005

Nancy, Abby, and I headed to Grant ranch on a surprisingly nice day. Click here for a trail map of Grant ranch. The road in is narrow with lots of hairpin curves, one of those where you have to shut the windows so the horses can't hear the screams coming from the cab of the truck. Lucky for me Abby was driving, not me. I fulfilled my duty as copilot by keeping a steady stream of pointless banter going on the scary parts, most of which Abby told me later she didn't really listen to but did appreciate. We rode the Dairy Trail to the Brush Trail to the scenic overlook on the Dutch Flat trail. The trails were wide roads with really good footing, a combination of trees and open areas. Here's a nice tree:

The Dutch Flat trail to the overlook followed the spine of a ridge that fell away abruptly, it almost felt like riding on a bridge. It was hazy so we couldn't see much from the overlook, which was too bad because it is way up there, but here it is anyway:

San Jose Holiday Parade, December 4, 2005

I got up at the ungodly hour of 4 AM on parade day. The first words on I heard from the voice on the radio were "frost warning." It was cold (well, you know, California cold) with a nice stiff wind, but luckily the heater in the truck, when turned on high and aimed properly, leaves little painful red marks that are probably first degree burns where my metal watch band touches my wrist. Ah . . . I arrived at the ranch at 4:50 AM and I was not the first car there. The woman who was there was not even going to the parade, she was just at the ranch at 4:50 on a Sunday morning. I love horse people. It took me not more than 43 tries to align the ball under the hitch on the trailer in the dark, then I was hitched up and ready and went to the pasture to retrieve Juliet. She looked at me like "a little late, aren't we?" but came with me and hopped in the trailer pleasantly enough. I left the ranch at 5:30 and arrived in San Jose at 6. Here is Juliet, hanging out in her trailer, in front of the HP Pavilion in San Jose, stinking early before the sun came up:

More people from my group arrived, some toting coffee and donuts (thank god). I pulled Juliet off the trailer as parade hour approached and tarted her up, see below:

After roll call at 7:25 we stood and waited and waited and waited to be called, watching other groups in the parade leave the staging area. Lots of strange crap in parades. Some storm troopers, harry potter looking people, and pirates passed, I couldn't really figure out their purpose since the theme was something totally lame like "Holiday Magic," not "everyone dress up like something copyrighted." By far my favorite floats are the ones with pathetic attempts at decoration, like just some crappy grass around the bottom, then a bunch of people apparently doing nothing more than standing around on the float. We finally shipped out at about 9:30. There were tons of people and everyone was happy to see us, it was fun. For the most part the horses in our group held it together. The donkeys we had out in front were quite the stars. Things moved pretty quickly, which was good because Juliet didn't have much time to think too hard about anything. We were all done probably by 10:30. Whew! A lot of overhead for such a short thing.

On to more important things, will someone please tell me what to do with my hair? Good lord, in this picture I look like I should be in Fleetwood Mac:

Trail Riding at Sunol, November 27, 2005

I forgot the camera so I don't have any pictures, but Richard, Deedee, and I rode the most beautiful and treacherous trail at Sunol, the Flag Hill trail down from near High Valley camp. The trail was so rocky and steep, clinging to the side of the hill, that we dismounted and walked our horses at one point. The view of the valley is spectacular, one of the prettiest I have seen at Sunol. Closer inspection of the map revealed that this is a hikers-only trail, now I know why. Juliet scrambled over the rocks like a champ.

Thanksgiving Dinner at Grandma's house in Deltona, FL, November 24, 2005

Mom, Hannah, and I converged on the lovely central Florida metropolis of Deltona for Thanksgiving with Grandma, Roberta, John, and Chris. Here is mom with her Hungarian cheesy potato recipe (those were some fine potatoes):

Mom and Grandma with the flowers Noam sent since he blew us off in favor of a business trip:

Fakesgiving Dinner at Jim and Sara's house, November 20, 2005

Jim, Sara, and Hailey, Michael, Marianne, Spencer, and Maya and I gathered at chez Anderson for a pre-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving dinner. Sara's edible creations were yummy as usual. Even Jim's green bean and cream of mushroom soup slop, which used to creep me out by how it climbed up the spoon in an alive, unnatural, non-Newtonian kind of way, tasted like tradition this time. Sara, Marianne, and me during our futile effort to walk off pumpkin cheesecake and cherry pie.

Trail Trial at Coyote Creek in Morgan Hill, November 19, 2005

My natural horsemanship group had our play day at a trail trial at Coyote Creek in Morgan Hill. I was happy to go there for the trail trial because as a trail that sticks pretty close to 101, the traffic noise is a constant companion so it is not a place I think I would otherwise go to for a trail ride. We had a great time. Tasks included getting a map from a mailbox, backing around a stump, crossing water, stepping over logs and through brush, dismounting, dragging a branch, a trotting, walking, trotting, halt task, and going through a gate. The mailbox wasn't so hot because Juliet gave it the hairy eyeball, and I didn't even try to drag the branch from the saddle because I didn't want to die (though when I did it from the ground Juliet didn't seem to mind), but here we are after we kicked butt at the gate:

In the trees near the water crossing:

Parade Practice, November 13, 2005

Speaking of Sonny's life as a study in neglect, here is a picture I took of Sonny just before I drove away and left Sonny, in the little jury rigged stall we call Sonny's restaurant, for six hours while I went with Juliet to parade practice. Oops.

The minis that stare at Sonny with a laser focus as he eats his pellets in the restaurant.

Juliet, way off in the distance.

Pleasanton Ridge Regional Park, November 12, 2005

I've had a fair number of annoying but fairly comical mishaps on the trail lately. On a recent ride, Juliet flipped a thistle so it whacked me on the knee, leaving a one millimeter long thistle part embedded in my knee which caused great pain and bled like crazy upon removal, leaving me unable to walk normally for a week. All that pain and suffering because of a flower part (thanks for pointing that out Hannah) that Juliet put in her mouth to eat (thanks for pointing that out Noam). My riding buddy Elise kept encouraging me to take my pants off so I could see the source of the pain, and nearly bust a gasket laughing at the mental image of me riding back with no pants (which I would totally do if I thought it would provide me even modest gains in comfort). Elise got her just deserts for laughing at me when her horse forged a huge chunk of his heel off during the same trail ride.

But this ride at Pleasanton Ridge really took the cake for number and magnitude of mishaps. First, we made a wrong turn and had to make a glorious U turn in traffic with the trailer, gravel majestically spraying everywhere, when Abby could not read my chicken scratching directions. Then, in an effort to avoid the tire shredders on the outbound side of the driveway (which terrify me) I cut the turn a little too close pulling in to the park, thusly colliding with a foot high gate post and destroying a hub cap, ripping a three inch long gash in the side wall of the tire (I don't think they will be able to repair that one), and making a neat tear then folding back a section of my diamond plate fender. Fortunately, it was a bright sunny Saturday afternoon and Abby had actually changed a trailer tire before and was very soothing about the whole thing. By the end of changing the tire I was completely giddy from the experience which will come in handy since the next time I blow a trailer tire it is guaranteed to be at midnight, by myself, with two badly behaving horses, by the side of the freeway, in the rain. The tire freshly changed, we set off on a trail ride. I took Sonny rather than Juliet, since lately Sonny's life has been a study in neglect. Sonny is a little footsore on the gravel fire road trails, so he took to riding the shoulders of the road. At one point, to my dismay, he hugged the shoulder quite close to what looked like an olive tree with kind of prickly leaves, one of which grabbed me and ripped my pants. Here are the pants:

The trees that felled the pants:

A sonny-cam shot of Abby riding into the Sycamore grove:

Concord Mount Diablo Trail Riders Association in Clayton, CA, October 22 and 23, 2005

My natural horsemanship group had our monthly play day as a camping and trail riding extravaganza at the Concord Mount Diablo Trail Riders Association facility just outside Mount Diablo state park. Saturday afternoon I rode with some friends to the facility's cross country course which was incredibly fun. I must have ridden about a thousand times over this bank where you jump up on the bank, take one stride, then jump back down. Another jump shaped like a split rail fence so you could jump a zig at about 2 foot or a zag at about 2 foot 6 called to me on Sunday when we returned to the course. Since I had my western saddle and wanted to avoid one of those famous shirt-caught-on-the-saddle-horn stories I hear so frequently, I only jumped that one when there weren't very many people around. So fun. From the cross country course at Cardinet Oaks you can ride into Mount Diablo state park. The fire roads out the back of the cross country course were very rocky and hard on Sonny's feet, so much so that my friend Richard, who was riding Sonny, insisted that we turn around for Sonny's comfort. A better option, which we did on Sunday, was to ride down the Bruce Lee Spring trail which is off to the right just as you reach the cross country course. The view from the fire roads:

Me and my pone:

Camping was only slightly less than 100% fun due to the fact that despite many, many similar outings which have led to an obsessive stocking of blankets, I still froze my butt off sleeping in my horse trailer. I was lucky to sleep at all, given that I was convinced I felt ticks crawling all over me after picking about 55 off Juliet and two off myself. Also, the weekend was slightly marred by the fact that halfway through the singalong on Saturday night, I realized that Noam and I were both out of town and I had forgotten to leave food for the cats. OH GOD! THE CATS! (They lived.)

Poplar Avenue Beach in Half Moon Bay, September 18, 2005

My natural horsemanship group had our monthly play day at the beach at Poplar Avenue in Half Moon Bay. Evelyn's horse is recovering from an upper respiratory infection, so she took Sonny. Poor Sonny hates the beach. He does everything you ask him to do, but he'd rather not get in the water. Perhaps he doesn't want to disturb his hairstyle, I don't know. Juliet was lovely, she plunked right into the water, no problem. We trotted and cantered around a bit but mostly walked among the other people in the group to chat. It was a good day.

I think sitting on Juliet makes my thighs look fat. Noam thinks this obviously means that I need a new horse.

Henry Coe State Park, September 17, 2005

Noam and I took a little ride at Henry Coe on the way to meet some friends at an arena in San Martin. We walked out of Hunting Hollow and tried to follow the Middle Steer Ridge trail. The trail was nice for a bit, then there were lots of low lying branches and other junk on the trail, the footing got really bad, the trail went uncomfortably close to a barbed wire fence, then uncomfortably close to a bit of a drop off into a creek bed, then through some uncomfortably tight spaces between trees, until dead ending at the junction of two barbed wire fence lines. Oops! I guess we followed a cattle trail instead of a trail trail. It was pretty awful. At one point, I heard Noam in one of those tight squeezes say "we're going to die!" At that moment, he really meant it. After backtracking to the last sign we saw, we consulted the map and determined that we were supposed to go up a hill to a ridge, not follow a creek bed. Well, better luck next time, we did get great scenery and a good story. Here is a tree and some sky:

Noam and Sonny at a decent spot on the fateful non-Middle Steer Ridge trail:

Use this picture at my funeral, especially if, as seems likely, I die because Juliet tosses me and stomps me (you can all say "she died doing what she loved . . ."). Me and Juliet, trotting off on another adventure:

Squaw Valley, July 23-24, 2005

We went to Squaw Valley to see Nick, Jeanine, and their toddler Connor. In case anyone doesn't know this (I didn't), ski resorts are as annoying in the summer as they are in the winter. Apparently these places are able to scare up loud music and drunk annoying people all year long. Sunday we took the tram to the top of the hill and looked around up there. On the way up, you pass these blobby rocks pictured below. Has anyone else spent ages in line at the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad ride at Disney Land/World and pondered how lame and fakey those blobby rocks around the ride look? The tale told by the tram operator is that Walt Disney rode the Squaw tram and loved the blobby rocks he saw on the way up so much that he had them replicated at Big Thunder Mountain. I can believe that story, because the blobby rocks at Squaw look just as lame and fakey as the ones at Disney Land/World. Here they are:

In the winter, all the heavy equipment and other junk that is unceremoniously strewn about in the summer is in use, and since everything is covered in snow, you can forget that the place is criss-crossed with gravel roads that cause nasty erosion evident in big washed out creases running down the roads. In the summer, you can see the junk and the roads, and its a little depressing, but the views are still beautiful. Here is Noam riding the lift:

Noam about to leap out of the starting gate for his race:

We took a trail to Emigrant pass, mostly because the Tevis endurance horse race had come through there that morning, and I wanted to check out the trail. Some manure, some trail markers, and endless hoofprints showed us the Tevis trail up and over the pass to Robinson flat. The view from the pass is very cool, you can see endless trees and ridgelines toward Sacramento. Its the kind of view where you can pretend that it is 1850 and you are a 49er nearing the end of a long impossible trip, and there isn't a huge interstate just a few miles away. There was still snow up there in late July:

This year has been a great year for flowers, everywhere we go. I can't stop posting pictures of flowers!

Salinas River State Beach, July 13, 2005

Some cool looking plants along the path to the water:

Juliet was skeptical of going in the water, but Noam kept riding forward a little bit at a time until her feet were wet. Her legs got so clean, I should have taken before and after pictures. Sonny, like last time, had to be bullied into the water and never got completely comfortable with the feeling that the footing is washing out from under him. Noam and Juliet, about to get in:

When we were finished riding, we pulled off Juliet's tack and let her roll. So itchy:

Sunol Regional Wilderness, July 2, 2005

Noam and I met DeeDee for a trail ride at Sunol. Boy, we're almost out of new trails to ride at that park! We took Hayfield Road to High Valley Camp, turned right on Cave Rocks Road, turned right on Cerro Este Road then headed back to the parking lot on Camp Ohlone Road. DeeDee working the gate by the windmill at High Valley Camp:

Me and Noam on Cave Rocks Road:

Action shot:

Horse Camping at Jack Brook Horse Camp, June 24-26, 2005

Evelyn and I went camping with the parelli group at Jack Brook horse camp in Sam Macdonald park in La Honda. The weather was a little cool and the fog took its time burning off, perfect weather for long rides. Friday, we rode down the switchbacks on the Brook trail loop, over to Pomponio, up the Bear Ridge trail, and back on Brook (click here for a trail map). Here is a Juliet-cam on the Brook trail:

On Saturday, Joann joined us for a ride down Brook to Bear Ridge, a left turn on Pomponio to the bridge over the paved road near the Tarwater trail. We took Tarwater to the trail head, then to the Canyon trail, which we followed back to the Towne fire road. On one of the trails, we crossed the tarwater creek, where we saw lots of algae. Joann got some algae on her hands, and discovered that it was gooey, sticky, and had a chemical smell. With horror and great eagerness, we reported our discovered oil spill to the ranger, who pointed out that the name of the creek was "Tarwater" and that the "spill" was in fact naturally occuring. Here is a nice little shed on the Tarwater trail loop, close to the trail head parking lot:

On the way back to the camp, we stopped at an overlook, where Evelyn took this Polly-cam shot:

On Sunday, we rode to the swimming hole at Shaw Flat trail camp with Pat and Pat, where we skipped some rocks and Pat's horse Cole did his mermaid routine. Sadly real life required that we leave on Sunday after the ride, stooped over, sore, and, in my case, with no voice. A good weekend of fun.

Trail Ride at Sunol Regional Wilderness, June 18, 2005

Sunol has become my new favorite place to ride. It's not a long drive, it's uncrowded, the trails are a nice combination of single tracks and fire roads, hills, and flat (and are spinkled with fun stuff like water crossings), and the views are for the most part unspoiled by development. Noam and I rode the McCorkle trail to Backpack road to Camp Ohlone road (click here for a trail map). We were still a little jetlagged from our trip to Israel:

Noam and Sonny in front of a nice rock:

Me and Juliet on the Camp Ohlone road:

Trail Ride at Coyote Lake Harvey Bear Ranch County Park, May 21, 2005

Noam and I drove to Morgan Hill for a trail ride at the new, awkwardly-named county park with Joann and Dennis. The park is great, nice big parking lot, nice wide fire road trails with lots of opportunities for gallop-a-thons, lots of nice hills, and views of Morgan Hill and the lake. We parked at the San Martin Avenue entrance and rode the Harvey Bear trail to the Coyote Ridge trail to the Willow Springs trail (click here for a trail map). Juliet and me on the trail:

A lovely, non-photoshopped (really!) picture Noam took of a tree and its shadow:

Heather Visits, April 30, 2005

My friend Heather came to visit at the tail end of a business trip and we did lots of good stuff, we went to twin peaks and the golden gate bridge, wandered around San Francisco, hiked in Muir Woods, and had a lovely dinner at Albona. Here Heather and I are searching through the cookies in the cookie box for the perfect cookie, under the watchful eye of the Lone Sailor Memorial at Vista Point at one end of the golden gate bridge.

Budapest and Vienna, April 11-20, 2005

Mom got to O'Hare about seven hours early, expecting to meet Roberta there for a little pre-trip bonding. Roberta's flight was delayed, so mom had to sit in the airport by herself for a long time, watching about seventy-three flights depart for Heathrow in the meantime. Confused as to why she didn't want to leave early, a British Airways employee ultimately decided to bestow a most-eager-to-go-on-vacation award (which had nothing to do with coach being overbooked) on mom and upgraded the three of us to flat-bed, real-china, smoothies-for- breakfast class. It was awesome, I could get used to that. The first day in Budapest, we went on a bus tour of the obligatory sights, thrown in by the travel agent who booked the trip for us. We got a little orientation, which was good, and bonded with our fellow travelers at how crappy the night front desk guy at the hotel was, also crucial to trip enjoyment. After the tour, we walked to St. Stephen's, the church honoring the guy who first united the magyars and got them to move to the Carpathian basin to the site of Budapest. When we went to the church, I knew the saint's shriveled hand was in there somewhere in a reliquary, and I neglected to mention it to mom and Roberta because that's just too weird. Later in the trip, Roberta insisted we journey all the way back to the church in pursuit of a glimpse of this monstrosity which was, as I suspected, really weird. It is behind glass so you can see it in all its twisted, blackened, shriveled fist glory. Highly gross, highly recommended. On that first night we went to the national opera house to see Madame Butterfly. Me and Roberta at the opera:

On day 2 we walked to the great synagogue for a really interesting tour. The synagogue has a really ornate, churchy feel to it, like lots of buildings in Budapest. There is a brand new synagogue right next door to the great synagogue, where people worship in the winter because the old one is too cold. I don't know why, but I found that spectacularly funny at the time. Mom in front of the (old) synagogue:

For lunch that day we went to Gerbaud, a Budapest institution. Good cake.

On day 3, we headed for the train station for a little two day side trip to Vienna. At Keleti train station in Budapest:

In Vienna, we did a lot of walking. We walked from the train station to the center of town (at least for tourists) around stephansplatz. Here is a balloon person in stephansplatz:

Here is the stephansdom, brought to you by T-Mobile:

The following morning, I went to watch the morning training at the Spanish Riding School, which was totally amazing. The take home lesson: if I were a six foot tall totally muscular twenty year old Austrian guy, I too could ride any horse well. Or maybe I need the quasi-military outfit. The arena at the SRS:

Back to Budapest for day 5, where we went to Castle Hill, the plateau over the Danube where Budapest residents lived beginning in the middle ages. We went to the Hungarian national gallery and walked around the neighborhood. Here is a view from Castle Hill of the chain bridge over the Danube:

On day 6 we toured parliament, and walked around the part of Pest near parliament. At some point, mom picked up this really cool map that had little drawings of all the buildings. Roberta and I searched for the rest of the trip for the same map, but apparently the universe meant it to be for mom only. Here is mom with her cool map:

On our last day, we walked around Gellert hill, where the saint who brought Christianity to Hungary was thrown into the Danube in a barrel full of nails by some Hungarian pagans who did not take too kindly to the new system. Here we are, about to get on the tram like locals:

One last vacation note, the food in Budapest was great nearly everywhere we went. However, here is what happens when Roberta or mom picks the restaurant:

Lovely setting in front of St. Stephen's Cathedral, good food, pink menu, little fuzzy blankets on the chairs, all good. In contrast, here is what happens when I pick the restaurant:

That's right, strange pictures of female body builders.

Israel, March 14-20, 2005

After our day in Amsterdam, on to Israel to celebrate the opening of the new museums at Yad Vashem. Monday, Noam and I went to visit Dan at the French hospital, then walked around the old city in Jerusalem. This is me, discovering the Robinson arch:

We tried to go to the church of the holy sepulchre, but it was apparently phased into an alternate universe, because we couldn't find it. Actually, it was kind of cruel, we saw a sign saying "holy sepulchre" and pointing right, so we went to the right until we came upon another sign saying "holy sepulchre" and pointing left, with no church in between. Hmmm, I guess those signs were posted by the merchants located between the two signs. Anyway, we gave up on the church and took a picture of this apparently Franciscan thing instead:

Tuesday was the opening ceremony for the museum, held at night atop a wind-blown hill at Yad Vashem. The president and prime minister of Israel, Kofi Annan (now referred to as "Fifi" since he is such a close friend of the family), and Elie Weisel spoke, and a childrens harmonica choir played (they were awesome! way better than the crappy Israeli pop singer who sang later). I could barely speak at the end of the ceremony because (a) the subject matter is so moving, and (b) it was so cold up there that my face was fairly numb by the end. Despite all the good criticism swirling around the museum insiders and other extremely creative and talented people that hang around Yehudit's house, to an uneducated hick like me, the new history museum was sad, informative, and very well done. You'll have to go there yourself.

On Wednesday, Ronni, Till, and I dropped Noam at a meeting in Yoqne'am, then drove toward the sea and chowed down at a lovely restaurant that had a sea view if you used some creative visualization techniques. Despite our best efforts, Noam's meeting took longer than breakfast, so we drove around in the hills, ate sour patch kids, walked down a road populated with cows and wildflowers, then picked Noam up. Here is Ronni, taking a picture on the cow/flower road:

We drove to Akko, looked around there, then stayed that evening with Noam and Ronni's distant cousin Ofra and her family, who live in Klil, kind of an old hippy colony in the northern Galilee. Thursday morning Ofra drove us to a crusader fort above Klil, pictured here:

Me, Ronni, and Till enjoying some ice cream before hiking back down to Klil from the fort:

Much of the visit to Klil was dominated by the neighborhood donkeys, talking about the donkeys, expressing appreciation for the species at large, looking for the donkeys, etc. At the end of our hike from the fortress, we finally met the famous donkeys in person. There were apparently two girl donks and a boy donk, who was tied. As we walked away from our meeting with the donkeys, the two girls sort of followed us away from the restrained boy, causing the boy to begin the long, wheezy wind-up required to make that donkey "hee-haw" sound—which, if you have not experienced it in person, is about the saddest, most forlorn sound you will ever hear. I thought Till was going to cry. And not from the pain of engaging in the "sports" required to get down the hill from the fortress. Here is one of the girl donks, posing by a tree:

After the donkeys, we headed back to Jerusalem, where we went to Yad Vashem again on Friday to see the museum and to open Yehudit's art museum. Friday evening we celebrated Till's birthday with Rotem and Ofer. Saturday, some friends of Yehudit's visited, we went to the french hospital to see Dan again, then we drove to Tel Aviv for an opera. We also had a fabulous dinner on the MIPS nickel as thanks for Noam's attending the Yoqne'am meeting on his vacation. Afterward, we went on to the airport. Yehudit, Ronni, and Till in Yehudit's yard on sunny Saturday morning:

Amsterdam, March 13, 2005

On the way to Israel, Noam and I had a long layover in Amsterdam, so we headed into town to look around. Here I am, hiding in a plant in front of leaning buildings, as we searched for an ATM and a place to have lunch:

After an excellent bowl of soup, we went on an hour long canal cruise, where I promptly fell asleep and Noam snapped this awesome picture of a guy and his dog with matching scarves.

Desparate now, quickly running out of energy, we found a nice, cozy little coffee shop, comfortably far away from the hordes of pasty, gaunt, drugged looking college students already arriving for spring break and the novelty marijuana-leaf-themed items on which they feast. We sucked down our coffee, snapped this picture at a canal outside, and then headed back to the airport:

Juliet and Sonny, February 26, 2005

Sonny, in the rich, deep mud in their paddock:

Finally, Juliet's evil intent is captured on film (well, so to speak). Here she is, trying to kick my head in:

Elephant Seals at Año Nuevo, February 26, 2005

After years of remembering only long after the elephant seals were done breeding, one of us (Noam) was finally organized enough to make reservations to take a seal walk at Año Nuevo. It was the tail end of the breeding season, so there were a few females, a few more males, and tons of newly-weaned few month old seals, who still look delightfully sausage-like and are referred to as "weaners." Here is some nice rippley sand:

Here is a weaner, posing for the camera:

Here is a pod of a male, with the big nose, a few females, probably some weaners, and some birds for good measure:

Lots of flowers this year because of all the rain:

Skiing at Lake Tahoe, January 29-30, 2005

It has been a wet winter here, and we have what is being described as the best snow in decades in Lake Tahoe. Between the good snow and finally finding the skiing helmet I wanted, the one with red flames on the side, for only $80 at the end of last season, I was eager to get on the hill. We headed to Tahoe with the Andersons. Sara and I ran a great experiment on Friday, when we dragged baby Hailey up to Tahoe on her first extended car trip. True to her genes, she was a champ. Sara and I ditched the boys and skied at Heavenly on Saturday, so nice. Here's my new helmet:

On the gondola at Heavenly:

Copenhagen, January 15-17, 2005

My 30th birthday present from Noam was a trip to Copenhagen to see Henry Rollins do a spoken word performance. Copenhagen was really great and, according to Noam who bought the tickets and hotel room, a real price performer in the off-season. We arrived on Saturday afternoon, walked around and looked at stuff on Saturday, Sunday, and Monday, saw Rollins on Monday night, then headed home on Tuesday. Here's Noam on Saturday, standing near a light boat in Nyhavn, a harbor area:

Sunday, we walked down the Strøget to this Plads, which had a nice fountain with a stork:

A nice rooftop:

We stopped by the Rundetårn, an observatory built by Christian IV for the astronomer Tycho Brahe. Inside, the building is a huge ramp that spirals around to the top, it was neat. Me and the Rundetårn:

From the Rundetårn, we cruised by the Sankt Petri Kirke, a huge church, then past this little building, "the Little Pharmacy," which is one of the oldest restaurants in Copenhagen and a favorite haunt of Hans Christian Andersen:

From the street near Det Lille Apotek, we heard some music, so we followed it and happened on a parade, which happened to be the changing of the guard. We followed the parade through town to the palace, because who can resist a parade? Tired from following the parade, we took a break and stopped at a restaurant for a bite to eat, where we had what I hope is a Copenhagen tradition, a herring buffet, which buffet had only dense dark bread and herring prepared 13 different ways, because what else does a buffet need? I took a picture of the herring buffet, I really did, but sadly it came out blurry. Later, we we made our way to Slotsholmen, the island where Copenhagen began and the seat of the Danish Parliament. This is Børsen, the old stock exchange, which has a spire made of four intertwined dragon's tails.

Monday night we went to a bland suburb to see Rollins. There were maybe three hundred people there. It was just Rollins and a microphone. He took maybe two sips from a bottle of water during the three hours that he spoke without a break. It was really great, so good that contrary to my usual temperament, I wrote him a fan email, to which he replied, much to my joy!