Hooks and Reviews

"I need you Julie, I've always needed you" so says George Gershwin in Rhapsody in Blue. The sweetest kindest words that a girl can ever hear and, if not in person, than hearing them in black and white classics is the second best thing. Classics on TCM tonight gives me time to contemplate the variety of music that's influenced my year. There was Conductor/Pianist James Levine, playing his memorable music from An American in Paris this summer in Tanglewood, Mass. There was the music of Kurt Weill that I saw Pop Singer Diane Dufresne singing to. There was certainly enough international music to enjoy in 2005 - I have over 300 songs from 10 continents still trapped in a broken Mac logic board. There were the little-know favorites of local bands like 'Benny and the Frets' to New Wave tunes from The Fixx to peaceful vibes of The Bonnaroo Music Festival to thousands of independent niches from I-Tunes and Satellite Radio. That's really the true test of a good album, listening to it in a car. 2005 was a explosive year for exposure to hundreds of genres. To wrap up the year I invited Mutti to the Capital Region's second most listened to Irish Music band, The McKrells and Sarge bought me the "Walk The Line" soundtrack. Yes, even among modern rock, emo, folk, pop, punk, indie, rock, ska and swing there's room in my repertoire for underground Celtic and a little Cash. Who will be there to ring in the New Year in 2006? Unsigned stuff I hope, lots and lots of self-produced songs and unsigned stuff. Thank you Rolling Stone for podcasting.

Stubborn Idealism

"As a child I was given good principles, but was left to follow them in pride and conceit. And as such I might still have done if not been for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth"...or something like that. Forlorn Dr.Darcy (Matthew Macfadyen) is dripping sexy wet from the morning dew as he declares his undying love for the fiercely independant heroine, Ms. Bennet, played by Kiera Knightly. My eyes are like saltlicks, having ruined my last pair of Bausch and Lombs over another romantic melodrama/comedy. What makes this reworked English Masterpiece 'Pride & Prejudice' so irresitable is Knightly's porcelein doll looks and stinging wit. English writers, especially Jane Austen have a special talent of couching barbs with ticklish humor and dry verse and I love that! Since when do actions ever speak louder than words? It's great dialogue between impulsive characters that crystallize a thought, an expression or a misunderstanding. Court all of that with long gliding scenes of a lush English countryside and yours truly once again believes in true love, the union of soul mates and happily-ever-after. Gush, gush, gush.

Patience Of A Saint

Every year Mutti guilts me into going to church with her, Lutheran Protestant-style. I argue that NPR and Travel are my saviors but her Germanic roots and theological preachings convince me I need more than frequent flyer miles to save my soul. So it's off to fidget restlessly with a bunch of overworked parents, crying babies and aging seniors. I have nothing in common with anyone here, spiritually or life-style wise. Chimes resound, bells begin and the chorus on the upper deck are unapologetically off-key. I feel a headache coming on. The woman behind me has a voice that could split my eardrums or shatter stainglass. I'm hoping for the latter. It's the shrill of those persistent high notes that drives my fingernails into the waxy candlestick I'm gripping. Several passages are sung in teutonic tongue and Mutti feels like she's back in 'Das Vaterland' waiting to meet Martin Luther himself. I can't take this and neither can the cute little babies staring at me from the front pews. After the last half hour hour they cry out for some peace and quiet and I envy that they can release their frustrations without repercussion. The worst is yet to come - a severe allergy attack. Dust mites buried in the church rugs gives me a sudden and severe allergy reaction and I'm groping in my pockets for Kleenex. Mutti shoves a handful my way followed by a dirty look. Hey, I'm here aren't I? Oh no, look out, here comes the greedy offering basket and I left my wallet in the car. For God's Sake, I'm unemployed, give me a break already! Finally, with my misery teetering on a brink of a meltdown, the last 'Amen' is repeated and my soul is safe for another year. Merry Christmas everyone!

Wind-Cooked

Unlike in Europe, our gov't does not give tax incentives or subsidies to those who use clean, cheap energy alternatives. Fortunately, between 1980 and 2003, the cost of producing one kilowatt of electricity from wind power plummeted from 25 cents to 4.5 cents. With natural gas prices on the rise it didn't take long for my friend Karen to switch over. Might it be time for us to do the same? A blog (11.26) I wrote about Greenhouse Gases pushes me to rethink the effects of nuclear and fossil fuels on the environment. A wind farm is planned for the side of the Gore Mountain ski area, a place once mined for Garnet. The 400-foot turbines will not be the eyesoar that you might think. All that exists there now are dead trees and a gravel pit. It's time we harness the Adirondacks to help defeat acid rain and other man-made pollutes from killing it. Then maybe, we too can have restaurants cooking with wind-powered grills. For all you conscientious traveling consumers, watch for these first 3 precedent-setting food chains in Oregon, Washington and Philadelphia: Burgerville, Austingrill, and WhiteDog .

Travel on the Transit

Can travel to NYC resume yet? I couldn't believe it took an illegal walkout by 30,000 union members and leaders before NYC could reach a settlement with the Transit Union tonight. State law bans strikes by public workers so a jail sentence and hefty fines will surely be imposed, but, when you think of what might be gained -pay raises, improved health plans and a stronger pension fund - it's a small price to pay. Did you see the millions of commuters hoofing it over the Brooklyn Bridge by foot, bike and carpool? Many supported the 3 day strike and blamed the MTA and so, in typical New York fashion, lined the pockets of the best footwear businesses in town. Numerous people, some as far away as Japan emailed and called wanting to donate to striking families and their defense fund. I found a website online called Gothamist running a contest for the most inconvenient commuter story. For all those who complained about the unethical timing of the strike, it should be reminded that MTA was not willing to share it's $1 billion surplus with its workers and that's more "morally reprehensible" than striking near Christmas. Lets hope the Union receives a fair contract this season, with dignity and respect for all, likewise for my NABET brothers. In the meantime, back to traveling the transit.

GoNomad Posts India

GoNomad has officially picked up my 'Crossthatbridge' blog so as I continue to program this unoriginal template into a fresher look, reset your favorites to my new address: www.gonomad.com/crossthatbridge. The India article is now posted on GoNomad's Main page. Vietnam, Hong Kong, Mainland China, Japan and Hawaii are waiting their turn - so many more stories to share and feedback is always a bonus. Thanks for reading.

All About Eve

It's all about Me, not Eve, but Me. My friends, God bless 'em, they want details, all the sordid lurid details not fit to print from the past 3 months. The juicy, inflammatory and provocative tidbits that would turn my average reader to stone and my future chances at sailing again, nil, nix and nada. Isn't explaining the climb to the top of the Great Wall and walking under a Venezuela waterfalls enough? "Oh Come on Sony, tell us, was the Captain cute, did you score with a native, did all those pubescent college kids drive you crazy? It's called the 'Voyage of Discovery' for a reason, right?" It' true that in India, I saw plenty of erotic sculptures of regal maharajas with oversized genitals cavorting with naked nymphs. In Japan I saw titillating covers of cartoon anime porn (called hentai) outselling sushi. In Brazil, one of the most liberal countries I've ever been in, it's all about the Bunda - that's Portuguese for derrière. And in the burgeoning tourism industry of Vietnam, message parlors akin to brothels cater to every businessman's dirtiest desire. I'm sorry all my kinky friends but Sony was a Saint on this trip and the only flesh flashed was by mistake - when Cabin Boy walked in on my shower! Dirty rascal. That's not to say vice was not enjoyed by some - ask the students and I'm sure you'll get a much different response. Time now for Chronicles of Narnia - the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe - that's a threesome, isn't it?

Holiday Cheer

Boy, it's a good thing my trip around the world ended when it did or I would have missed Howard Stern's last show on Infinity. I'm kidding. I have no love for commercial television or radio and if it weren't for Seinfeld reruns I'd throw them both out with the recyclables. Has mainstream media and American pop culture always been this dimwitted or is my befriending Dalits and visiting Hiroshima part of my political dogma now? Days are getting longer, my blogging is languishing and I'll be hybernating in a snowbank if I don't find work soon. My editor Doug on the M/V Explorer just nabbed grocery work in Seattle. Several more professionals who quit to travel the world are lining up at the Unemployment office. My former TV Union is at war with management, all are miserable and my friends are too preoccupied with mall shopping and gas prices to slow down. I'm still feeling hopeful though - several of my most successful friends, Rachael, Kelly and Sabrina were penniless before landing themselves in the nations spotlight. Have I anything in common with anyone anymore? Ahhh, lamenting over the holidays, it wouldn't be Christmas without it.

Re-Entry Shock

Candles are lit, bubbles abound and a glass of California white cushions my carcas. The winds are blowing like crazy but my little home is warm with Christmas bacchanalia. Never did I have the time or patience for a good soaking, but four years into owning a garden tub, I'm finally getting my moneys worth. Any good workaholic will tell you that there are better ways to manage time than relaxing in a tub. I've argued against super-ego pleasures like spas and massages for years...then I came to my senses 4 days ago. After bracing myself upright against a cold metal bar in a space no bigger than a Japanese Capsule Hotel (they do exist) and taking Navy showers to conserve water, well, it sure feels great to be on stable turf again. The Sunday New York Times lets me escape reality but not long enough. All safe and sound in a bubble bath, I'm tossed back into some of the places I just came from: the Amazon where record droughts threaten my friends homes; Baghdad, where bombs rock my stepbrother's bed and Venezuela, where Hugo Chávez just gave billions to help the Bronx. Is this what they call reverse culture shock or re-entry shock? Coping in a land of cushiness amidst chaos? Enjoying a little R&R with a guilty conscience? Whatever it is, I hope it's short-lived, this much time on my hands in bath can waterlog my restless feet.

Chronicles of Time

Could that be my Muti? The woman waiting at the end of the United Airlines check out line waving frantically in my direction? The woman with the shrinking face and white hair? Could my Muti have changed more than me in 4 months? Sure enough, it's her and I'm in such shock for not recognizing her, I collapse in tears. Muti comes from hard German stock, straight from Bavaria, escaped the Russian front in '45, tough as an ox and a pillar of corrosive communication, so instead of hugging me she demands to know why "the hell I'm crying?" Ummmm..."Well, Muti...you look so...so different". I try to word it as carefully as I can. "Ah Hell, you think I look OLD, don't you! You think I look like an 80 year old woman? Well thanks alot Sonja!". She repeats my name in a brusque guttural accent. But, but, but Muti...
Yes, life with my family has pretty much returned to normal in less time than it takes to unpack my bags. Yesterday I bid farewell to everyone in San Diego and caught up on the chronicles of time onboard the Red Eye. Hundreds of movies, books, music and opportunities await me in New York and the last of my Christmas list was checked off in Hawaii. This marks the first time in 19 years I've been without a steady job. I've worked all my life, through highschool, college and after graduating. So, what to do with this new found freedom? "Why don't you write a book?" offered the passenger sitting next to me on the flight in. Hmmm...would any of my blog readers like that?, I think to myself. "Sonja, I made you Spatzle and Sourcrout, come hither!" shouts Muti from my across my kitchen stove. Well, it's true that I have enough fodder in my family to keep my readers in disbelief for many chapters to come.

Buddha and Bill

Plagued with denial that this trip ends tomorrow I’ve been buried in my cabin since Hawaii. As most of you know, it’s been a thoroughly educational, inspirational, motivational and sometimes confrontational job, anything but dull. Hours were long, humidity unbearable, sleep impossible and staying healthy – a true struggle. A love-hate relationship was inevitable. Beta Betty (my overweight camera) has been a third appendage for me, sitting proudly off my shoulder focusing on 700 faces in 10 foreign ports for the past 3 months. Her presence is so much a part of my profile that nobody recognizes me without her. These last busy days she’s really tested my patience; technical errors, tape issues and a dirty wide angle. Fortunately, I’ve had a card-caring Canadian friend to pull me through rough swells. Bill has been Budda’s answer to my prayers. His off-beat ‘mad-scientist’ wooly appearance lead me to the wrong impression when I first saw him. Soon after my computer died, he came to my rescue offering advice, assurance and assistance with bookkeeping my order form inventory. He’s no Martyr but he’s the closest person who I’ll ever meet to live up to that title. People I thought were my friends faded fast while my truest unit surfaced when the going really got tough. Our last day in Hawaii, I took Bill out for Vietnamese. There was a little copper Buddhist statue sitting on the bar next to burning incense. Bill insisted I chant a little verse and offer apologies for busting on Buddha. But Bill…Buddha already answered my prayers my friend…and I guess that everything truly does happen for a reason.

I Heart Hiroshima

Everyone remembers what happened to Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7th, 1941 or as F.D.R. put it 'A Day that will live in Infamy'. On that day, Japanese Zeros surprise ambushed the U.S. Pacific fleet of 33 warships in Hawaii killing 2400 men. Today I visited the USS Arizona Memorial where oil still seeps to the surface from a sunken hull that entombs 1,177 bodies. It's a solemn place with a commemorative plaque, flagpole and a wall of military names in a special shrine room. However, I wasn't moved or affected or brought to tears had I might have been if I had not visited Hiroshima 2 weeks earlier. Coming to terms with the 200,000 plus innocent people who died because of the A-bomb in 1945, is mind numbing and mind altering. Exhibits of charred clothing, melted tires, photos of contorted bodies and an imprinted human shadow on granite steps is so heart-wrenching that it's now my comparison yardstick to judge other tragedies. Maybe that's unfair but before 2 weeks ago, Hiroshima was a nebulous city in a far-away land and today it resonates with me more than any other war-time tragedy. If I ever see a Warbirds airshow again or a documentary on World War II or even Movietone clips, it's the memories of Hiroshima I'll remember. Humans are humans are humans, wherever they might live, however they might think or feel and because survivors of Hiroshima carry no bitterness in their suffering, even 60 years later, they are a breed apart from most victums. They repeat their harrowing tales over and over again without casting blame or ill-will or resentment for the the U.S. The entire memorial is purely pacifist in it's aim to educate the world about the consequences of war and the use of nucleur weapons. I mean no disrespect to the hundreds of other memorials out there but Hiroshima holds a special place in my heart now.