Whenever people ask me where I live, I say “Las Vegas,” and pause a beat, and add “Not near the strip”. As if defending myself that I am not a gambler, nor a drinker or a smoker. It elicits opposing reactions; a blank stare, a sneer or downright hostility.
Even before we arrived at Ocean Avenue, Steven and I heard the pulsing sound of waves crashing coming from Carmel Bay. At the entrance to the narrow pedestrian street –Mission Street, the street where
Sometimes, with a nervous mannerism, he reminds me of actor Gene Wilder, delivering a mad spark that explodes into manic hilarity. But it’s his Yiddish that hurls me onto the floor, although I don’t understand a word, it sounds like he’s either coughing or spitting in your face, and the audience cackles from his animation.
After attending the Frankfurt book fair, http://www.buchmesse.de/en/fbf which is actually a publishing convention minus writers, I settle in to begin a new chapter of my life in Berlin.
Going to museums and churches with many people never appealed to me but when in Rome, it’s the only way to admire the neoclassical architecture and opulent ancient villas. Entering the Vatican, I am in a reverie,
Dressed all in black with a shawl draped over her shoulders, her voice is melodic but earthy. By 12:10, emotionally tangled into the music, when everyone gets up to leave the Swede and I stay behind.
Ten minutes later, we make our exit grab a cab arriving at the hostel at 12:35 to closed doors.
My fists hammer at the huge double wooden doors but no answer. The Swede tries a couple of rounds. After 30 minutes it’s useless, they have enforced the curfew and are trying to teach us a lesson.