Dearest Rachel –
Morning, and with it, the acknowledgment that this ocean view isn’t all that bad, after all.
While you probably already know it from the fact that it’s smokestacks aren’t what you should be looking for, that ship docked across from our hotel is not the one that’s “come in” for me. That is, in fact, the Queen Mary, the old Cunard ship that has been retired and turned into a high-end hotel and restaurant. Still, it serves as a reminder of exactly what I’m here for.
But that’s hours and hours away from now. There’s a lot that can be done between now and two in the afternoon, especially since I’ve been up since six – which sounds better than I’ve been doing over the last couple of weeks, until you realize that I’m still functioning on Central Time, which means I’ve actually been up since four. Needless to say, several of those hours were spent in bed, trying to keep my eyes closed and pretend that I was asleep, in hopes that pretense would become reality (which, when you think about it, is how a lot of humanity goes about its daily existence).
But eventually, I had to give in and get up. For all that I’ve decided not to really knock about Los Angeles, having given that up as something of an impossible task, there are things I need to do and see and take in.
And while they’re not something I have to pack, as such, I have to deal with the fact that my new walking shoes were christened yesterday on the way to In-N-Out Burger. There was a stretch of street that didn’t have a sidewalk on it; but it did have a fair amount of mud where the apron met the street; I think it may have had something to do with all the rain and flooding the Southwest dealt with last week. I wound up having to rinse the one shoe off in the bathtub when I got home (and spent the time waiting for it to dry assembling and uploading the story of rest of my trip there, so it’s not like the time was wasted), and by the time both were done, it was too late and too chilly to go anywhere else.
And as for taking in? Well, there’s always breakfast. I decided to ask at the concierge for recommendations; while I would like to think there would be something provided at the hotel, most four-star places don’t bother with that. They usually have a fairly high-end restaurant in house; if you want breakfast there, it’s gonna cost you. I was hoping, though, that they wouldn’t necessarily insist on their own location. And to their credit, they didn’t; one of the three that I met at the desk suggested a place called the Omelette House, about four blocks north, basically in the direction that I walked yesterday.
Bear in mind, this is my last taste of fast food for the foreseeable future, so I might as well get in what I can while I can. Omelets, I can get on the ship; I’m not entirely sure about breakfast burritos and homemade chili.
It turns out, the cheese sauce has a little spice to it, which regular shredded cheddar cheese wouldn’t, so now I understand their choice. It also merges with the eggs, which they serve sunny side up – although I managed to talk them into doing mine over medium – so the texture gives a medley of mild (from the egg yolk) and spicy (from the cheese sauce) in every bite. On the other hand, that doesn’t necessarily help with the chili, as the cheese is usually meant to temper its spiciness. But with the chili being reasonably mild, there’s actually a certain consistency in spice levels between the two main ingredients.
It occurs to me at this point that I’m going into more detail writing about this breakfast than I spent talking to you yesterday about In-N-Out Burger. I’m thinking it’s because I’m writing to you here, as opposed to talking. After all this time of doing this every day, I’ve gotten used to writing; as for talking on camera, well, you can tell that I’m not very practiced at it. Besides, I can go over what I’ve written, and revise and adjust it; on camera, I really only get one take to express myself. Spend too long thinking about what to say, and the food in front of me goes cold – or at least lukewarm – and inedible. I’m not ruining my enjoyment of the moment for the sake of content.
I’m also starting to wonder if I’m getting used to the time change; I’m just finishing up breakfast and heading out as it crosses over to nine o’clock local time. It’s weird to realize that the second service has already started at this point back at home. On the other hand, actual patrons are only now just starting to trickle in, so maybe I’m overstating my abilities at acclimatizing myself to the local time. The walk back to the hotel feels like I’m wandering through a ghost town; I suppose the businesses, like the fashion mall across the street from the convention center, don’t open until ten, just like at home, but it does feel a bit strange being the only one out and about. At least I can admire the art and architecture in peace without worrying too much about looking like the tourist I so obviously am.
That last image reminds me that the Year of the Dragon is upon us, if it hasn’t arrived already. Granted, I’ll not be in China in time to wish anyone there 恭喜发财 (“gōngxǐ fācái,” or, as my Hawai’ian pidgin book puts it, “gung hee fat choy”) but I might as well say it now anyway.
But this is not that day; it’s now past ten as I’m writing this, and rapidly coming up on eleven, when I need to be checked out (fortunately, one other thing I asked after at the desk was if they could store my stuff until one or one-thirty, when I could catch another Uber to get to the port – and no, they don’t offer a shuttle there, sadly).
So I need to get all this stuff together and get out now.
I’ll fill you in when I get to my room. Keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck; I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 