Apathy

So when we first got to California, we met some people who talked about how much they loved the Bay Area. One of the things they love about it is that, they found, there was no bigotry compared to other places they'd lived. Races, sexes, orientations are all free to peacefully coexist.

Except Republicans.

Apparently, political conservatives are verbally flagellated in the Bay Area for expressing their opinions. Which I have a problem with. If everyone is shouting and no one is listening, nothing will change.

I read the NYTimes yesterday, found this article and really enjoyed the (usually) intelligent comments. Though, I have to say, almost everyone seems to have missed that Fred Thompson didn't mention WWII, the WashingtonPost did. Still, the idea that any country fights wars for any reason other than its own interest is not only laughable, it's dangerous. The president is elected to create the best world for the people who elect him (or her - though I agree with Conor, I don't think America's ready for a woman president). If the way to do that is to play policeman for the world, then so be it. But the idea of sending the people who elected you to fight for someone else's liberty makes you unpredictable.

Unpredictable makes people weaker than you nervous. Which makes them seek to protect themselves proactively. And people die, and people get rich.

Ah, well, Bretton Woods are dark and deep and I have miles to read before I sleep.

Pardon the Interruption

So, we didn't have any internet access for a few days because we located a house and scrambled as quick as our little legs would carry us to get into it. Not that staying with Endorra and Maurice wasn't great, but it had been more than 3 days and the fish were starting to smell.

But we're here now, in sunny Palo Alto. Weather report yesterday (and I quote): "Autumn's not due until the end of the week, but we may be seeing some rain before then!" As opposed to the rush for any patch of land in London when the sun was shining, as each spot of grass became Pale Hill as the fishbelly complexion of a nation is brought out for a tanning.

Ah, but here in California everyone is a distinct shade of something or another. There's a odd sense of health here. At first I was thrown by the runners and cyclists and the 15 brands of Oreos. But my sense of bewonderment reached new heights when I saw Diet Coke Extra - it's Diet Coke with vitamins.

Seriously.

Ok, that's it for tonight. We'll be back soon.

Ahh, California.

In the midst of a desperate search to flee my folks' place and get on with our San Francisco adventure. Craigslist hasn't yet delivered our place. But this listing certainly made me realize what sort of adventure we're in for ...


The large one bedroom apartment downstairs from us is opening and we would like to find a family with a small child with whom to make a community. We have a 2 ½ year old girl and would love for her to have someone to play with as well as someone for us to build community with.

It is not our place, but the landlord has said we could find someone. He has been generous enough not to raise the rent for some time. It would likely rent for at least $1600 otherwise.

It is old Victorian with high ceilings, a huge living room, and a big sunny garden complete with fruit trees and a playhouse.

We are a homebirth midwife and a psychotherapist/electrician. We value open communication, eating organic, not having a tv and having fun!

Although, I have to admit, I like the idea of a psychotherapist/electrician - I guess he can only change lightbulbs if they really want to change. Besides, at this point, I think we both need psychotherapy and some rewiring.

Americana

Seven years since we became Johnny and Lola at a ranch up in Sonoma. Since we're now returned to the scene of the crime, we decided to take a ride up. This time with kids.

The place is exactly the same, though since we arrived at the exact moment that the previous evening's catering truck was yanking down the electricity cable, we didn't stay long. Besides, getting in and out of the car is more of a production these days.

So, we drove around a little, then headed out for a little taste of Americana (the kind not experienced by me since the oyster shucking festival in Leonardtown, Maryland) at a little place I like to call - Train Town.

That's right, "the largest scale train in the Americas," the sign proudly declaims. Made me think that there's a small German city that has a TrainStadt that kicks this place's ass. Still, happy to be there - as were the boys.

First we took a ride around in the scale train (3":1' in case you were wondering), across bridges and through tunnels (50 kids screaming in a dark tunnel is America to me). Stopped at the petting zoo - big hit. And then came back around to ride a small roller coaster and get a corn dog. All that was missing was the three-legged dog. (In case you're wondering, it was not missing from the Oyster Shucking festival.)

A quick trip into a real train car (with a Donkey Kong jr machine in it) and then we were back into the parking lot. And at this point - I paused.

Across the street was a large "Pro-life" billboard. Right in front of it was an SUV with a bumper sticker that read "impeach Bush."

It's a big country. There are lots of opinions. The only question is: how many of them count?

Can't get away from the Irish or Dick Van Dyke

I have a theory that the Irish always show up first amongst immigrants and set up bar. This theory came to me in Osh, Kyrgyzstan where I saw O'Malley's pub. I mean, seriously, Osh? You just can't get away from the Irish.

It came back to me yesterday when we were looking for a flat. One of the units was being repaired and the workman was from Dublin (oh, ye know Ireland?), Cork (oh, you've been to Cork?), Youghal (oh, you know people from Youghal?), outside of Youghal (pronounced y'all).

But I have to admit, there's something comforting about the accent.

We're still struggling with hearing American accents and thinking, "Wow, there are a lot of Americans here." The American accent (and of course I'm generalizing here, ignoring the Southern, Boston and New York accents) is not particularly melodious. Sadly, possessed of one myself, I have to admit that it does sound like a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.

But at least it's usually saying something nice.

And so, long live the Irish. Because they have an accent that's easy on the ears and they usually are saying something nice. (Of course they're probably being sarcastic, but we've entered the no irony zone, so I can no longer recognize it.)

But our oldest, he's now between accents. He's started pronouncing water with an emphasis on the "er" so that Americans can understand him. But if he gets angry (he's 3, he does that a lot), he reverts to an English accent. "I will not!" Sounding like Harry Potter.

At least his accent is somewhat posh. My English accent still sounds like Dike Van Dyke in Mary Poppins. Though people in California get offended when you call them "gov'nor". But heck, they elected Herr Schwarzeneiger twice, they can't get too embarrassed by him.

Going big time

Hey, it's our first press mention. http://www.arrivalslimited.com/lifetoday.html (Look at Monday 4 September.)

Ok, it's our friend Sarah, but we'll take it. Now at least there's a chance that someone besides Conor is reading this. (Hi Conor, hang out for the next post - it's about the Irish.)

Not knowing what to think

So, Fred Thompson throws his hat in the ring 3 days after we move back to the US.

I used to tell people that SARS broke out right after I left China, the ruble crashed soon after I left Russia, I was in Berlin instead of DC on September 11 and in Hamburg instead of London on July 7.

And now this . . . But I'm not saying how I feel about the rebirth of Reagan.

I mean heck, I was a big fan of his when he played Knox Pooley on Wiseguy. [Disclaimer: I looked up the name of his character. However, I do recall that he played a white supremacist who wasn't really racist but just touted the policy to get power.] But seriously, this guy?

I mean I sat out most of the Bush administration in the more liberal countries of England and China. I don't think I could take Knox Pooley leadership for this country in the state that it's in right now. We need less Bush "common sense" and more Thomas Paine Common Sense.

At least that's my sense of it.

The common courtesy of a reach around

Ok, despite that title, this is not going to be dirty.

The thing is, Americans are nice. I mean, even here, where people aren't as just plain friendly as in the midwest, they are so light years beyond the English in terms of what my momma used to call "common courtesy" it's quite refreshing.

I'm sure it will be annoying in a few weeks. If for no other reason than they're really not less inept than the service industry in the UK, they just feel bad about it.

And of course there's the children.

I have to say, between the English pretending that you don't have children and the Chinese habit of walking away with your child to take photos with them (you know, before the nose gets too big), I'd have to vote for the American randomly saying nice things about your kids. [If you've been to America with your kids and no one has told you how beautiful or well-behaved they are, I'd worry.]

Again, enjoyable . . . for now.

Thank god for the vaguaries of language

So, we went out to see a friend from London on our first day in the US. She introduced us to her brother and sister-in-law. Great folks, great time. But, our 3 year old did watch "Chicken Little" while there.

Not a big deal, except that I've never seen it, and our little boy is who he is.

So, this morning he asks me who Chicken Little's friend is - the pig. First, I try to cover, "Hamm" I say. "No, daddy, that's the pig from toy story." So, then I just make it up (he's 3, for Pete's sake) - and I say "Oinker". So, as he's pretending to be Chicken Little he starts calling me Oinker. To the point that he's shouting it out on the playground.

Except when he says it, it sounds like "Wanker".

So, I'm suddenly glad to be in America where no one knows what that means.

Leaving on a jet plane . . .

We're sitting in the first class lounge with economy tickets in our pockets about to return to America after nearly 6 years away.

It's been a whirlwind of a month, packing up our lives, saying goodbyes and generally taking last advantage of London.

The lounge is reminding us of how different life is about to be: people drinking champagne at 8 in the morning, red-soled shoes that cost a bajillion dollars worn on the 11 hour flight, languages that we can't identify being spoken around us, destinations of Kiev, Bucharest and Dubai being called as we wait.

As the whirlwind dies down, and the caffein kicks in, we are increasingly excited about the adventures to come. We hope to use this space to share our ups and downs of reentry to America. A lot has changed since the last time we lived in America, both with us and - from what we have seen from a distance - America itself. We'll let you know how we get on.

johnny and lola