Sunday, April 03, 2005

Easter: Resurrected

Let’s start with a moment of silent recogition.  JP-II was a hard man, but he made a huge impact on the world and helped bring many people together.  I respected the man, even when I didn’t agree with him.  I hope his successor does as well, but in the meantime, his loss is one we all will recognize and feel for a long time.  God’s speed, JP, and thank you.

Now:

Easter was not so very long ago, was it?  As a jew in a secularly christianized society, I have developed an apprecation for the Easter message of renewal, and its far more preponderant blandishments of pastel bunnies and tiny animals made of marshmallow.  I get a nice uptick in chocolate consumption for a few days, and people tend to be in a good mood.  Why should (as the sages asked) this be bad?

The only “traditional” Easter tradition we really work to preserve is the butter lamb - an old Polish symbol of, erm, resurrected milk, made rich and golden by dint of… um.... churning… or something.... and it’s holy, because, oh, because it’s in the shape of an adorable lamb, the big guy’s favorite sacrifice: that’s right, it’s a little lamb made entirely out of butter, with peppercorn eyes and tiny leaf ears.  This year, sadly, we failed in our search for a butter lamb, so I improvised and set us up with a

butter beazel -

sort of a beaver-weasel cross.  It was very holy and it sanctified our home quite thoroughly, and then we cut him into pieces and consumed him with toast and pancakes.  Just like a real messiah. 

Kel and my own tradition is to take a hike on Easter day, and we had a great one in mind - but Kel checked the weather that morning and saw rain coming in, so we scuttled that plan and did a big piece of the 49 mile drive instead. Our map was patently inadequate, so we just stumbled along looking for seagull street signs.  We started by rolling right out Geary to

Ocean Beach beneath the Cliff house,

where we walked and

watched

and
communed....

Kel suggested that we come back for a drink if we made it all the way around the route.  I agreed, privately doubting that we would get anywhere near that spot again that day. 

Our next stop was a quickie at the

Tulip Garden. 

It’s long been one of our favorite places, and we rarely visit there. 

We then drove down to Ft Funston and around Lake Merced and then up again into Golden Gate Park, which is under construction so we kind of wung it there as far as the official route was concerned.  We got out in the park for a short stroll through the arboretum and a quick lunch at an artist’s cafe called Canvas, which was
dee-lightful,

and then got back on the route to go, eventually, to

Twin Peaks,

which was gorgeous.  Why hadn’t we taken that other hike, anyway? 

Well, the drive was turning out very well, so I didn’t mind.  Our path eventually took us past the old mission and up the

Embarcadero,

at which point we sort of accidentally missed a whole bunch of stuff on the official route in the heart of the city, but in retrospect that actually seemed like a good idea - all the touristy places we had passed had been jammed; it was a bad time to go to Chinatown or North Beach, and the Civic Center and Japantown were already on my daily commute.... so we just cruised (surprisingly quickly) through Fisherman’s Wharf, where we noticed that a sudden overcast we’d seen over Twin Peaks when we’d been down at the Mission, had developed into drizzle by the time we’d reached the Ferry Building, and was now full-fledged super-soaker rain.  This felt right - clean and invigorating.  We put the wipers on high and forged onward.

From the wharf we drove up into the Presidio by way of the

Palace of Fine Arts,

where we walked around the lake and among the columns and bereft caryatids; my only regret was that it was raining too hard for me to take many photos, because the place looked astoundingly beautiful. 

The Presidio, too, looked great, with rain-drenched cypress groves and ocean vistas and stolid old military buildings standing watch against the fall of night, and I got a great view I hadn’t seen before of the huge new Lucas complex they’ve nearly finished building: it looks like it goes back to the ‘30s or even earlier, with a restrained, consistent design that brings out the details of the nearby smaller, older buildings that served it as models.  Out, then, past the big orange bridge and the new “coyote crossing” sign where, a few months ago, I saw the biggest coyote I’ve ever encoutered, and then through to Seacliff and out to Lincoln Park, where we got out to take in the view from Eagle Point and at the big fountain in front of the beaux-arts temple that is the Palace of the Legion of Honor. 

A final short ride down Geary put us adjacent to where we’d begun four or so hours prior; we parked above the ruins of

Sutro Baths

and walked down to the newly reconstructed Cliff House, standing like a grounded iceberg or cruise ship against the driving rain and pounding surf.... We admired the view and

soaked up the architecture

for a few minutes, and then got drinks at the new

Zinc Bar,

a reasonably hospitable if somewhat stark room high over the ocean with

windows west to Japan

and south looking down Ocean Beach - completing the circle as Kel had anticipated and I’d unwisely doubted.  I had a hot toddy and Kel, a manhattan, and then we returned home for a nutritious supper of smoked sturgeon on fresh House-of-Bagels bagels, and chocolate in abundance. 

I don’t know about you, but after a day like that, I feel positively resurrected - and I mean that in the good way.  Passover is the next big thing on my calendar.  Time to finish the chocolate and put the hollow bunny out of its misery. 

Errata: Last week I messed up the names of two businesses in Richmond or Albany.  I’m ashamed to have to post corrections, but the ‘hut will not conscion knowing misstatements of such matters, so: Caral, Div.  Pic-n-Pac.  Thank you for your patronage.