Over the Hill in San Jose and Otherwise

Wednesday, March 3. I find it amusing as I approach retirement age that people in the Santa Cruz area refer to San Jose as "over the hill" without seeming to be aware of the phrase's other connotation of being old and past your prime. In pretirement, it seems to me that you can still be at the summit of some of your abilities and at the same time begin to develop perspective on areas in your life where you are losing speed. Going downhill implies a certain amount of momentum that can carry you through some tough patches like minor health issues or lack of training in technological advances. With a positive frame of mind, the downhill stretch can be exhilarating not scary.

In the midst of light to heavy rain, the trip up and down the hill on Highway 17 was exhilarating to say the least, but not scary with Phil at the wheel. We talked about many things, including the difficulties of working with younger people. We noted a certain superiority many Gen Xers project and wondered if they just feel those of us born before the great technological revolution just don't get it or if their aloofness is just a good bluff. We didn't come to any major conclusions, but it felt good to air a few frustrations in the privacy of our own car. We had a little trouble finding the right exit around the interchange between Highway 17 and Interstate 280. San Jose is a working city, full of busy streets, commercial plazas, and people in a hurry to get somewhere else, not exactly suited for a leisurely pretirement pace.

Phil let me off at the Winchester Mystery House, a tourist attraction I've been interested in for years. It is a bizarre conglomeration of 160 rooms, 47 stairways, 2,000 doors and 10,000 windows put together by Sarah Winchester, the fabulously wealthy widow of the heir to the Winchester rifle fortune. She began the project in her 50s (and mentally the worse for wear after the deaths of her one child and husband) and directed the non-stop construction project based on messages she received from the spirit world for almost 40 years. The $28 entrance fee for the mansion tour is pretty steep, but the tour lasted over an hour on a mile long trek led by an informative and cheerful tour guide. There were people from Japan, Canada and Michigan on my tour so if does have a worldwide reputation. The rain let up during the tour, so I got a few good shots out in the garden.

While the narrative emphasizes the weird quirks of construction, I enjoyed seeing the meticulous craftsmanship like parquee and pressed wall coverings in many of the rooms. The original furniture was all auctioned off, but period antiques are displayed in many rooms to give a feel for what they must have looked like in Sarah Winchester's time. Not a lot is known about the woman or why she had such a mania for building, hence the "mystery" in its title, but I came away from the experience feeling I'd learned a little about California history and abnormal psychology. The prices at the cafe scream, "Tourist trap!" ($6 for a soft drink), but items in the gift shop seemed reasonably priced.

While I was doing the tourist thing, Phil visited some people at eBay Motors. Their "campus" was similar to Edmunds although the cubicles allowed for a little more privacy and the staff was more far-flung with offices in Kansas and the Northeast and even some outposts overseas. The people he talked to were enthusiastic about learning more about Edmunds, so he felt the visit was a success.

We picked up some coffee on the way home and talked to Phil's mother on his cell. She seems stronger but still a little disoriented after her heart attack last week. She talked to me about a women's club gathering she is planning for March, and it made me feel good to hear that she is looking forward to future events. Phil's father is recovering from his knee surgery too and agreed to set up a Skype call during the weekend so that Phil's mother and aunt could see each other as they talked. I got a call from the Census people and committed to a training program at the end of April. Phil built a fire and we both got out our laptops and click-clacked away.

We decided to walk down to the Club House for a drink and the rain started to fall as we walked there. Luckily, it's only about 3 blocks and Phil had an umbrella. It was cozy to be inside warmed by the fireplace and five or six monitors of various sizes broadcasting sports, sports, and more sports. The bartender was very upbeat and courteous, ready to listen, give advice or join in on a joke, depending on the needs of the group he was serving. We had a delicious Sierra Nevada on tap and some munchies and walked down the first hole on our way home.

It was great to come back into a warm (yes warm!) house after our wet, chilly walk. We kept the glow going with lentil soup, cornbread, a salad with lots of trimmings and a little more beer. Phil surveyed Steve's video collection and came up with an interesting 1977 movie called The Duellists. Based on a Joseph Conrad story, it had masterful art direction and costumes, an unusual plot, and serviceable if not quite convincing performances by Harvey Keitel and Keith Carradine. We gave each other backrubs as we watched, and then braved the ice cold downstairs to go to bed.

San Fran-tastic

Saturday, February 27. News about the earthquake in Chile and possible tsunamis as well as the sad news that Phil's mom had suffered a mild heart attack made it hard to decide whether to drive into San Francisco or not, especially with rain likely throughout the day. But after Phil had talked to several members of the family and learned that his mother was resting in stable condition in a hospital, we decided to go for it. Drew and Tony have visited San Francisco several times on their own and are familiar with BART as well as the MUNI mass transit options. Based on their past experience, we decided to drive in to the western part of the city near San Francisco State University campus and then take the MUNI into downtown.

On the drive in, the rain was hard and heavy, but Phil guided us through the torrents over the steep and winding Highway 17. By the time we got to the train, we had to get all our change together for the $2 fare ($8 for the 4 of us). A fellow passenger explained to us that we had to board the first car in order to pay the driver the fare and then it was smooth sailing all the way to downtown. Most of the trip was underground so when we emerged into the cold wind of nearly deserted downtown, it was a little bit discouraging.

Things heated up considerably once we got to Chinatown. There was a huge street fare underway in advance of the Chinese New Year Parade scheduled to take place that night. Throng is not intense enough a word to describe the masses of people shouldering their way up and down and sideways along the streets and sidewalks of a four or five square block area, happily queuing up to spin wheels of fortune for prizes large and small and grabbing fistfuls of handouts from vendors. I got a refreshing towel and the boys got festive red "good fortune" envelopes with free passes to a local horse race track. Everyone was enthusiastic and even giddy, and it reminded me of the happy anticipation in a public park on the Fourth of July.

Some of the Chinese restaurants were tempting, but all of them were packed, so we walked over to North Beach. Since we knew we were making a pizza that night, we stayed away from Italian restaurants and picked a small sandwich shop called Justa Bite. The service was attentive and the variety of sandwiches was surprising. I was a little distracted by a large monitor that flashed news bulletins every couple of minutes, but I enjoyed my avocado and cheese sandwich very much, and everyone felt fortified for a climb up Russian Hill. At the summit, we met a young Englishwoman who had just flown in from Richmond, VA the day before. She was as delighted with the clear blue sky and panoramic views as we were and got advice from Phil and Drew about using public transportation. Everyone was snapping photos like crazy except me because I forgot my camera and cell phone.

We continued on up Hyde Street to get a close up look at that crazy curving Lombard Street. Before we got there, we walked by a nearly deserted public tennis court with spectacular views of the bay and particularly the Golden Gate Bridge. Phil took several photos that he said he was going to send to a tennis magazine. We walked down the sidewalk beside Lombard Street watching the nervous faces of the drivers making the tight turns down the super steep block. One woman stood up looking out the sun roof of an SUV with her video camera. From the foot of the hill, I was struck at how the hedges along the road concealed the cars, making it look like a rose garden on a very steep incline. Maybe they should design all street in San Francisco like this.

Another four blocks downhill brought us to Fisherman's Wharf. Phil and I showed Drew and Tony the Argonaut, a former cannery building refurbished as hotel. We had coffee at a cozy coffee shop called Coffee Adventures, and then boarded a streetcar along the Embarcadero jampacked with riders. We got a transfer along with our $2 fare which let us transfer to the MUNI back to where our car was parked. So we practically circled the city for $4. Whatever else I have to say about San Francisco, its public transportation system is Fran-tastic. Even on a day snarled with traffic from the Chinese New Year Parade, we got everywhere we wanted to go quickly and easily.

We hit a couple of rain squalls and had a pretty scary skid on Highway 17, but Phil's nerves of steel got us through unscathed. We stopped at Trader Joe's for wine and some pizza fixings and the full moon beamed down on us serenely from a clear sky.