Monday, September 26, 2005

Talinn - A Wee Wonderful City

Talinn is many things and the old city is a reminder that a healthy diet of milk and preservatives plus good tall stock (thanks Mom & Dad) created people who are just a touch taller than those who built the Old City of Talinn. I would be exagerating, something I rarely do, if I said it was Lilliputian but there were many stores that it would have been much easier to enter if I was say 5'1" instead of 6'4" - more on that later.

Anttii arranged a package deal that included the ferry ride and hotel for the night. The Sokos Hotel is located on the edge of the Old City and was very convenient. Six years ago the same park and location seemed dusty with prospects and the impact from Communism was more evident - the big news was the opening of a tall bank! With that said, the past six years have been very good to Estonia. There is a new harbor, dozens of ships arriving daily and a sense of pride in restoring the city back to pristine condition with shops, restaurants, activities, etc. We checked into our 3 star hotel, got upgraded to a business room, dropped our bags and did a little exploring.

The Old Town

Dating back to the 13th entury, the old section of Talinns is a maze of winding cobblestoned streets, hidden courtyards and spired churches that were somehow maintained throughout the past hundred or so years. There are the medieveal wall ramparts and 20 towers that surround the town and are at times included as part of the buildings. It is nearly impossible to walk a 100 yards without a peak down a small alley that might hold charming little shops, a cloistered patio or another little link to a parallel street. The wall might be the back of a house or the stall of a wool merchant. Again, I was impressed six years ago, but the Estonians seem to have taken extra care in restoring the buildings, painting, new roofs, new and welcoming storefronts and without tacky neon. We hiked through the town square and up to the Alexander Nevsky Cathedral- the landmark Russian Orthodox Cathedral named after the duke in the 13th century. The town seems to be a "cat" city - the pottery, the linen, the tourist postcards, have cats on them.

During our second day in Talinn we started tasting our way around town - chocolate shops and pastries. We also climbed to the top of the Niguliste Church tower which is now a museum. For 25 kroner each, we discovered how out of shape we are. The stairs (250+) were a set of two spiral staircases where the steps might have been 6" wide at the ends. The stairwell was so narrow that when I tried to take a picture of Anttii and Frank behind me, I could barely keep my belly out of the view ... hmm, ok, so the problem might be a combination of issues! Anyway, we huffed all the way to the top and enjoyed the grand views of the city and the harbor. Our day ended with a "authentic" Estonian meal at the Kuldse Notsu Kortts - a little restaurant that served a lot of piggy in a lot of different forms.

We helped the economy by purchasing several items from little shops throughout the city. Several of the shops were in the lowere sections of the city and it really felt like going down into a hobbit hole. I had to not only duck but crouch to enter several of the shops.

Troika

Antti recommended that we try a Russian restaurant for dinner our first night. Troika is one of those places that you would walk if you didn't know it was there. Off the main plaza in the city center, you walk down a hall and down a narrow stairway into the cellar. Roman, our waiter, was quite skilled at serving ice-cold vodka from four feet about the glasses on the table. The food was delicious and aside from the ten minutes when the fire alarm rang - was an absolute delight. We enjoyed, blini, meat soup, cucumbers with honey, steak, beef stroganoff and chicken Kiev. I can only hope that the food in St. Petersburg is on par and that the service (i.e. the servers) are as attractive.

Out on the Town

There are two family establishments in the old town - X Bar and Angel. Angel has a nightclub downstairs on Friday and Saturdays which we missed since we were there on Sunday. Upstairs, it was a pleasant surprise - especially in contrast to the X Bar next door (which is why I mention it first). Angel is like an angel - open, light and airy; a combination of a restaurant and lounge. The bathroom stalls were labeled "hetero" and "homo" which I found most amusing. The music wasn't obtrusive and after a couple of drinks we called it an evening.

X Bar - Hmm. I'm not sure how to describe the place. To call it the "gay" bar of every town gives it too much credit but if you walked in you would immediately recognize it as such. First, it was dark and little of no class; one of those places where touches of tacky neon were installed years ago and never taken down. The obligatory Tom of Finland poster hung one wall plus a few strings of Christmas lights. The bar tender was a grumpy lesbian with the fake red hair that kind of glowed in the black light. Scattered throughout the bar was a collection of people that made for the most interesting of floor shows.

First, it was Fandango night (i.e. a gathering of three or more lesbians in one location). They were the young sporty lesbians with the short cropped hair (#5) and leather apparel, loud but not obnoxiously so, they were having a good time and on occasion would trip past to have a dance on the metallic dancefloor (very leatherbar circa 1983). Passed out on the table was the form of a person (male or female) who was oblvious to all of the goings on with the girls. The other patrons in the room included a guy who would rush to the bathroom, light a cigarette, fall asleep and then repeat. Behind me was a couple of men, one of whom decided that it was beauty night and filed his nails for 45 minutes - he was sporting a 80's John Cusak mimi-mullet with a few blond highlights.

Time passed and the girls left and a second wave of people came in and sat down at the couch. Two guys looked liked that worked with the Russian Mafia on weekends and the person who was passed out turned out to be a guy. He woke up and was offered a drink from the new group of people. THEN a youngster comes in and his daddy who was sporting an inappropriate blonde hairdo comes in and is dancing about in white pants and a blue striped shirt (very Village People). We are just observing the parade of people and enjoying the eclectic mix of music - where else can you hear the opening of the Sydney Olympic song? There were bears, tweaks, goths, sporty lesbians, heavy tool-carrying lesbians, and the only thing missing seemed to be the drag queen! Not that we were not having a good time - we decided to check out Angel and it seemed a bit like heaven.

Talinn was a great two-day experience and will continue to become even more of a tourist's dream. I cannot rave enough about it and highly recommend it to anyone in the neighborhood. On the wall in the Estonian restaurant was the following saying, "A mouse never ran into a sleeping cat's mouth."

Friday, September 23, 2005

Just a Little Jet Lagged

It has been nearly five years since I've been in Helsinki and the old place is growing up. Starbuck's has not figured out that a country who experiences the dark for long periods of time might be perfect candidates for their products, so finding a cup of coffee to get over the jet lag has been difficult.

We left San Francisco Wednesday afternoon and after an 11 hour flight to Frankfurt followed by a four-hour layover we picked up our luggage and rode in Jakke's Volvo - boxy but safe! Anttii and Jakke have a cute two-bedroom apartment which is within five minutes from my old Metro station.

Our first day was spent wandering a bit around Helsinki. We visited Sokos and then wandered the esplanade and explored the farmer's market. Mr. Bunny has been featured in many pictures and will probably break up our relationship. Mr. Bunny is a nasty little finger puppet that Frank won at the Renaissance Faire. I amused by the fact that I can stick him on my finger and put him the frame for many of the "postcard" shots. Frank claims I'm taking more pictures of the bunny than I am of him. Apparently the bunny is more cooperative.

We have now booked a ferry trip to Stockholm which will depart the Saturday after we return from Russia. I'm praying that I don't get any food reactions ... that could be a deadly combination although if it let my buy pants from a regular store. I realize this is a digression but I was thoroughly traumatized at Old Navy when I discovered that A) I could not fit into a size 38 and B) the size 40's they carried did not have an inseam of 34 - translated, they had fat pants but only fat pants for short people.

In short, we are having a fabulous time and the weather is a balmy 65 degrees.

Saturday, September 03, 2005

Camping on a Fallen Hero

The drive from San Francisco to Guerneville was an uneventful end to a very long travel day. The boys from Under One Roof were doing a weekend away and Frank had the honor of setting up our new Costco Tent (a.k.a. the Taj) for the two of us. In theory, the ten is configured to sleep 9 people. The reality, it is the perfect size for two 6'4" men.

The weekend was a relaxing one and Saturday was spent touring Korbel, eating and of course preparing our white trash dinner! Our resort had seen better days, though according to legend (See below) we could have been camping over the site where the body of a Marine was found - the victim of some of Charles Manson's followers.

I lived in a slummy trailer park called Parker's Resort on Neeley Road in Guerneville. Folklore has it that Charles Manson's Family had lived here in the 60's. (On November 8, 1972, a hiker discovered a hand protruding from the ground. It belonged to a 26 year old Marine who had been shotgunned and decapitated. Lynette "Squeaky" Fromme and two Aryan Brotherhood prison escapees were subsequently arrested in Stockton and charged with the murder.) The campground had hundreds of chickens, both hens and roosters, descendents of those raised by the Family. They lived wild, under trailers, in trees, shrubs, and junked cars. Every time I opened my trailer door, 30 chickens would stampede into my home on the hunt for bread crumbs, dog food, or anything else I had.

A good time was had and prospects look good for a second weekend in the future.

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What is up with Bob?

Eric, formerlly known as LA Ben, introduced Frank and myself to Hollywood Bob (HB) a few years ago. A fabulous screaming homosexual who is also a very amusing writer. If you haven't discovered "Love Handles" you should do so now.

At the bottom of his current column is a link to his previous ones. Sadly, as he is on the low road toward losing weight ... my journey has been on the high road (i.e. high caloric intact, high gym avoidance, etc.).

Happy Reading!

For those of you are wondering why Ben is now Eric or as HB calls him Beneric, here's the skinny.

For those of you who don't know the story... My mom named me Eric Shane Johnson, when I was born. Years later --when her life didn't turn out the way she wanted it -- she changed my name to Benjamin Michael Gunnar (she married an asshole). I was 9 years old, so it was a huge pain in the ass to explain to everyone that "Eric" wasn't good enough; NO, it doesn't make any sense. I've never really liked "ben". It's a dull name. "Eric" is sharp, and I'm trying to hone an edge.

Friday, September 02, 2005

My Brush with Katrina

As a West coast boy, I am familiar with the phrase "Duck and Cover." It is a very handy phrase, one that works in a natural disaster (i.e. the walls are shaking, Duck and Cover) or when visiting friends in East LA and the Uncle says, "Yo White Boy... Duck and Cover." Very simple and very useful. Now what does one do when there is a hurricane? According to anonymous sources in Florida a hurrican equates to consuming large quantities of beer at local hurricane party. Hmm. The roof is going to get ripped off the house and I'm going to be so drunk I won't miss it. I'll take good old earthquakes any day of the year. Yes, they are scary. Yes, they can be destructive, but there are simple rules to remember, duck and cover. With the proliferation of Ikea, it would be better to take cover in a doorway and not under a table cause I doubt the folks in Sweden are mass producing furniture that is meant to last forever and to withstand all sorts of natural disasters.

Anyway, I had my first brush with a hurrican last week during a business trip to St. Petersburg, FL. Landing late Monday afternoon I met an old friend Dana and had a fabulous little catch-up. I am truly blessed to have friends that come and go at different phases and who, when meeting feel like you were chatting about the weather yesterday. Of course, according to one of the security guards at work, everyone is a weather expert in Florida after Andrew last year. CNN and CNN Headline News played constantly and I kept my eye on the pattern in order to determine what to do. Apparently, I had to do nothing since she decided to save me the personal story and went straight to better things. I guess my trip to Oprah with a tale of woe was a bit premature. Sorry Oprah.

Work for the week was exta hectic. End of year stuff and of course the three "official" projects I was working on and the crisis project that had to be dealt with ASAP. Luckiy, Miss Kris was able to drive down from Daytona to keep me company on my last night. She arrived and we headed to dinner and then took a little drive along the coast. The larger than life Miniature Golf course lured us out of the vehicle and the thunder and lightening almost put us back in. It would be rude of me to mention the winner ... so I'll just say the loser paid for the alligator food and we headed down to the live "educational" exhibit to give the poor blue mouthed gators some kibble from a fishing pole. I didn't realize that the little guys were jumpers and while preparing the first nibble screamed like a little girl when the gator threw himself in the air. I watch movies, I know what they want. They saw big white boy and were going for the gold, forget the kibble!

From their it was time for a little Georgie's Alibi - a family establishment. Thursdays are long-island ice tea night and we had to partake. The place was a bit surreal. Lots of women ... or should I say womyn. There was also the typical array of youngsters and oldsters, cowboys, farm hands, and the I can't stop dancing for three hours. The highlight was when Miss Kris squeeked and ran to the other side of me. A womyn of significant stature asked me, "Is that your wife?" (use a husky voice). After a few dances, we called it night.

My flights were on time and for some reason, the one-stop (Denver) included a stop in Las Vegas. I don't know if it was because of Katrina but the flights were BUMPY. Bumpy to the extent that women were crying, bellies were gurgling and I got to land and take off three times. JOY!!!!! Happy to be home in the good old 60 degree heat of San Francisco.