The Sacramento River and Then Some

We had a great day today, our first full day in California. This was to be a trip to see a few sights and catch up on visiting with a few relatives. We had stayed the night in Castro Valley and managed to get into the morning traffic inbound to San Francisco.  Driving an unfamiliar rental car doesn't make the drive from Castro Valley to Sacramento any easier, but nobody rents old Acuras or Toyotas. 

Once we reached the capital city we visited the California Automobile Museum.  They have an interesting  display of automobiles tracing it's development from Henry's first car to modern electrics. The bulk of the vehicles are on loan to the museum from private collectors.  Displays are good with some hands-on demonstrations, and some cars are without their bodies to better show the inner workings.  Mock-ups of old garages and repair shops add to the illusion. Many of the automobiles I had seen before, and I was not particularly excited to see Jerry Brown's Plymouth Satellite sedan,  but then I'm not a native Californian. The 1913 Rauch & Lang electric car was a unique design. The coupe was steered by tiller and the passengers sat in the front. Other alternative fuel cars were also shown: Nissan electric and BMW fuel cell cars.  A half dozen in total were exhibited with some technical data.  Claudette enjoyed looking at the Packard  which she remembered her family drove when her family relocated from Indiana.  It was good to see the display of racing cars which included everything from Indy cars to dirt track racers. The '32 Ford of the legendary A. J. Foyt looked as though it would have been fast, powered by flathead Ford with an Ardun conversion and fuel injection. I had a great time talking with Jim Lee, who worked there.  He was interested in my having seen Shelby's original Cobras racing back in the "60's. Claudette and I had fun at the museum and had our photos taken behind the wheel of a vintage truck.

Lunch at the 4th Street Grill was good.  I had fish tacos with a spinach salad,  and Claudette had a house salad with black bean soup. We then ventured in to Old Sacramento near the river with its renovated old buildings and plank sidewalks. There were many tourists in the many shops that cater to tourists. We didn't patronize any of these shops, but we did visit the California Military Museum.  It is a great little museum with great displays of weapons and uniforms. I was surprised to see so many large automatic weapons. We also gained free admission due to my veteran status.   If I have any criticism, it would be that some of the displays weren't very well lit. 

We had our evening meal on the Delta King on the Sacramento River. The crab cakes and burger were great. The Irish music left a bit to be desired, not quite professional. We decided the Delta King's food was very superior to the Delta Queen's. 

Back to our room and an episode of Downton Abbey. 

An Indian Prince in Japan

We walked to the train station from a friend's house on a quiet street in Zushi City, which is about two hours south of Tokyo by car. The day before, we had visited Tokyo, Japan's largest city.  Below the city streets there the subway trains are stacked five high. The Japanese are notorious for "packing" people into their trains so much that it has created a problem between the sexes. So much unauthorized groping occured that some trains are now gender specific.   One of the most interesting behaviors I observed was a Tokyo traffic jam!  Everything came to a complete standstill. Slowly, vehicles began to move like a giant knot untying itself, and  traffic was flowing again without a policeman's whistle or a horn honking! We did a little sight-seeing in the city and had lunch in a hotel which had a beautiful garden quite reminiscent of the Japanese garden at San Francisco's Golden Gate Park.  This one did have a twenty-foot high waterfall though... and a calico cat. The most memorable thing about this was seeing Suki call the huge beautiful koi in the pond.  It took me a while to catch on as she snapped her fingers a few inches above the water and uttered a few words in Japanese I did not understand.  (Actually, my Japanese vocabulary is limited to five words.) But the fish knew.  The water seemed to boil as the large colorful fish surfaced with mouths wide open.  The light bulb flashed in my head, and I knew that that was the way they were normally fed. Today we were away from the hustle and bustle of Tokyo and bound for one of the most popular tourist attractions in Japan, Kamukura.

We entered the railway station and bought tickets from the vending machines.  It seems almost anything is available from vending machines in Japan.  Always a good idea to use the bathroom before beginning any trip.  The toilets are some western and some Japanese.  Japanese toilets are an oblong hole in the floor that you stand or squat over, not unlike those in rural France. Maybe I'm a bit jaded, but I prefer to sit down while I tend to business.  The train was a quiet electric model, not a bullet model, since those are used only for long distance travel. After we're seated and the train begins moving Suki asks if we would like to move into the first class section. She pays the conductor a few extra yen, and we move into the larger more comfortable seats.  I comment to Claudette about the reserved seating for pregnant women, the handicapped and elderly.  Just as we had seen yesterday, people are standing and those seats are empty.

Claudette  got off the train first, and we began our walk toward the shrine. The streets are narrow and lined with small shops and businesses. There is a myriad of utility wires overhead like a giant spider web.We stop and get some snacks from a street vendor. He's frying what appears to be gyoza wrappers in hot sesame oil.  They are delicious!  In a small restaurant we opt for counter seats rather than "family style" seating, which is on the floor. The space behind the lunch counter is so small that the cooks have to turn sideways to squeeze by each other while they work. The cooks are using giant chopsticks to stir and prepare the food.  I have a bowl of ramen noodles, and they are fantastic. It is not considered rude to slurp your food in Japan, and noodles are made for slurping.  The raw fish and octopus require a little getting used to.

After lunch we continue toward the temple and shrine. This shrine was built in 1063 A.D. and is dedicated to the patron god of the samurai.  The temple of red and gold sits atop a hill with hundreds of steps leading up to it.  There are shops from which you can buy offerings to lay in front of the shrine. We don't buy any, but we do wash out our mouths at the covered trough of flowing water.   A communal long handled copper dipper is used.  Tradition dictated that you should wash out your mouth as to speak no evil while in this place. My Mom always told me she would wash out my mouth with soap and water if I said a bad word, but I was a little boy then. There were monks about in brilliant orange robes.  After the shrine we moved on to the the giant Buddha. The buddha  is from 1252 A.D. and has been replaced several times.  Initially it was of wood, but the current one is of bronze.  It once stood in a temple, but in 1498 A.D. the replacement temple was destroyed.  It is a truly remarkable structure.  An Indian prince is depicted sitting in the lotus position with his hands folded in prayer. It was quite interesting in  the interior of the sculpture; it was fun to climb around inside the 44 foot tall  93 ton behemoth.  However, I must hasten to note that I observe a more revered state in religious  places of the non-Christian, and I expect the same of them.  At the entrance we find these words:

Stranger, whosoever thou art and whatsoever be thy creed, when thou enterest this sanctuary remember thou treadest upon ground hallowed by the worship of ages. This is the Temple of Bhudda  and the gate of the eternal, and should therefore be entered with reverence.

Later in our visit, Suki's father would introduce us to the traditional tea ceremony.  The tea was awful and I almost gagged on the pickled cherry blossom.  However, it was a beautiful ceremony, and it was quite interesting to learn the etiquette of this ancient tradition.

We enjoyed our visit to Japan very much and would like to return again and visit some of the rural areas.

My Japanese vocabulary:

• Konnichiwa...Hello
• Sayounara...Good-bye
• Arigatau...Thank-you
• Hai...Yes
• Mushi-mushi...(I don't know what it means, but it's how you answer the telephone.)

It's what the Doc said...

I went to the gym today.  I go every day except Saturdays and Sundays and some Wednesdays.  Some Wednesdays are "Fritter Wednesdays".  Some friends come over for apple fritters, and we gather around the kitchen table, eat fritters, drink coffee, and offer alternative solutions to the world's problems. They are Dunkin Donuts fritters which aren't  as good as the ones from the coffee house in Oakland, but much closer.  On other days I'm at the gym.  The doc says,"Get exercise!" But the gym I go to isn't like Rocky Balboa's or like the one that girl on TV frequents.  Nope, it doesn't have those finely toned bodies and those guys with rippling muscles and  six packs    I haven't seen those yet. Although visions of finely toned female forms could, or rather would, appeal to my more primitive interests. But, alas, they are not there.  The people I see at the gym are older.  Some of them use walkers and pull little carts with oxygen bottles.

I usually start my routine  on a recumbent fixed bicycle.  It's kind of relaxing and is right in front of one of the many televisions.  All the televisions have subtitles  and no volume, that way the television sound doesn't interfere with 105 the Weasel coming form the overhead speakers. The televisions are nice, but I don't see well enough to read the subtitles, so I read a book instead. The book I'm currently reading is Lewis Grizzard's "Kathy Sue Loudermilk, I Love You or A Good Beer Joint is Hard To Find and Other Facts of Life." I have my own mp3 player. My tastes run from rock to opera. I can usually kick up a notch when listening to Freddie Mercury singing "We Are The Champions".

Sometimes you see some rather amusing things at the gym.  I don't know why the people insist on pushing on the I-beams that hold up the roof.  Don't they know they can't move them.  People have pushed on the iron railings so much that there are now "Keep Off the Railings" signs.  Most people are rather quiet while exercising.  They either listen to their music or engage in quiet conversation with a friend.  Some sing along with their iPods or repeat phrases of a foreign language. But then there are the grunters. They are usually participating in heavy exercise like lifting weights.  They're not soft grunts like those of a constipated  baby, but loud rumbling grunts that vibrate the walls. Does a grunt help move the weight?  I don't know.

I have a simple exercise routine.  After twenty minutes on the exercise bike, I walk two miles. (At one time I walked three miles, but that got in the way of watching reruns of Perry Mason.) Some people walk carrying dumbbells. I don't.  If the good Lord had meant for me to carry dumbbells he would have attached them to my arms.  I just carry my two hundred plus, plus, pounds.  I once did crunches but I gave up the exercise crunches. Captain Crunch is more my style.

Wow, tomorrow's Saturday and I don't have to go to the gym!

Rollin' on the River...but No Tina!

We crossed the 14th street bridge, and I said to Claudette, "There she is" referring to the steamboat, Delta Queen, moored below in the Tennessee River.  "Angie will tell us how to get there," she said. "Angie" is the name I bestowed on the distinctly midwestern voice of the Acura navigation system." Turn left on   Manufacturers Boulevard," said Angie.  A few more turns and we were there, looking at a true paddle wheeler on the river and our lodging for the nest two days.

Since my boyhood days of reading Twain's Tom Sawyer I've had a fascination for riverboats, so when the opportunity came to spend the night on one, how could I say no? And here it was.

The Delta Queen is a steam powered paddlewheel riverboat of 285 feet in length and 58 feet in width, and it weighs over sixteen tons. I was surprised that it was built in 1929 in Scotland and shipped in sections to the U.S. It was assembled in California and plied the Sacramento River delta.  In fact, her sister ship, the Delta King, is moored in Sacramento, California. Somehow that twentieth century history kind of takes away some of the romance of riverboats of film and television.  Those were the days of Yancy Derringer and the Maverick brothers, fancy ladies and fast talking gamblers. 

While in the lounge I heard the sound of ice cubes in glasses and pure Kentucky bourbon being poured. I was looking over the screen of my laptop, which could have been a poker hand, and I thought I heard someone say," Cards, Mister?" The lounge, dining room and lobby rekindle this romantic era with lush period furnishings, crystal chandeliers and lots of polished brass. Did I see Jodie Foster in period dress?

We did not have a thrilling dining experience, the food was good, but not great.  However, the buffet breakfast was a redeeming feature.  I'm a grits 'n' gravy kind of guy and the piles of sausages, bacon, eggs and biscuits we the right thing for me. I think Claudette even found some potatoes on the buffet.  Our cabin had a queen size bed, which eliminated space for a chair.  The dresser was an antique from the Federal period.  One caveat: headroom is at a premium in the shower. 

I enjoyed wandering around the boat, noting the giant 30 ton wood and iron paddlewheel and the calliope. Cabin number 340 had a brass plaque stating that President Jimmy Carter had stayed there. As I wandered about, the sound of Tina Turner singing "Rollin' on the River" echoed through my mind.

For a good video tour of the Delta Queen
Maverick trailer


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On another note: Does anyone have a good name, female, of course, for the voice on my smartphone's navigation ap?

Billy Sang the High Notes

We crossed the Tennessee River on the 14th Street Bridge and turned onto Market Street to find the restaurant for dinner.  It had been a heavy day of sight-seeing, and we were ready for a relaxing dinner. We had input the restaurant's address into the Acura's navigation system as well as the smart phone.  It became rather amusing hearing two female voices giving directions using different descriptions.  I expected that any minute they might get into an argument. The address was 1400 Market street, and we managed to pass it by but took the next left and found ourselves in an alley. I noticed some people in waiter clotting puffing on cigarettes and surmised that we were near an eatery. As we entered Market from the alley I noticed "Station House" on a sign and knew that we had found the place. But, alas, signage said, "For Hotel Registered Hotel Guests Only" and Claudette would not park in an unauthorized space.  Behind the hotel we found a friendly fellow on a golf cart who said that the restaurant was right behind him and that we could park in the lot behind the hotel. 

We alighted and found ourselves near a number of old railroad cars of various vintages. There were dining, pullman, and regular passenger cars.  There was a multi-colored  nineteenth century steam locomotive and a streetcar from the same era as we followed the signs to the Station House. We entered and a pretty girl in black asked if we would follow her to our table.  I actually would have followed her anywhere, but, of course, I was not alone. It was a huge room and quite dark.  I thought to myself, "This is another of those places where they don't want you to see what you are eating". The room had once been the baggage handling area for the railroad station. You could see flashes of polished brass and light from the neon beer signs and stained glass lamp shades.  There was a large bar in front of us with a bandstand behind it, and I thought I heard a bit of "Sweet Home Alabama" from an electric guitar. (This place was looking good!)

Our waiter announced, "Welcome to the Station House, I'm Billy, and I'll be taking care of you". We ordered a couple of sweet iced teas and headed for the all-you-can-eat salad bar.  It wasn't anything fancy but was fresh and with a lot of variety. There were mounds of peel-and-eat shrimp which I noticed most of the blue jeans and baseball capped customers did not eat.  We ordered our entrees: New York strip for me and prime rib for Claudette when Billy returned.  About halfway through our salads one of the waitresses took off her apron, grabbed a microphone, mounted the stage, and commenced to belt out a great version of Aretha Franklin's "Think". In one of the next songs Billy joined the back-up singers and hit the high notes.  For each song selected waiters and waitresses would remove their aprons, mount the stage, perform, and put their aprons back on before grabbing platters of food to serve hungry customers.  Three girls did a great job on Wilson Phillips, "Hold On", and Claudette got serenaded with a version of, "Jailhouse Rock" by the first performer to leave the stage and continue singing.  Billy, our waiter, brought our food and was summoned to the stage to sing lead in the Hues Corporation's "Don't Rock the Boat'.  We heard quite a few songs from the sixties and seventies and the Andrews Sisters' "Sincerely" from the forties in perfect harmony. We finished up the meal with some apple cheesecake.  The band finally played the obiligatory "Chattanooga Choo-Choo", and we had had about as much fun as we could handle.  We left and crossed the bridge for another night on the steamboat. 

 The Station House has the recipe for good fun and good food.