Men make life interesting

The fountains at a famous garden (Villa d’Este) in Tivoli, outside Rome, Italy.  I bought this postcard in 1969.  When I was in Tivoli, the fountains did not look like this, because it was winter and everything was dormant and ugly.

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I was in Rome (December 1969), sipping a café latte outside a coffee shop, when a young man in his twenties stopped by my table and said in broken English, “Hi, I am law student from Ljubljana.  Please join me and my friends.  We go dance on boat.”

(Ljubljana is the capital of Slovenia.  President Trump’s wife is from Slovenia.)

I stared at him.  He was cute with blond hair and blue eyes and of medium stature.  But, he looked like a poor student.  I told him, “No, thank you.”  He begged and pleaded, but I was steadfast.  He left and ten minutes later, he was back, begging me to join him and his friends on that damn boat.  Finally, he took “No” for an answer and left for good.

Another man stopped at my table.  He was an Italian, older than the law student from Ljubljana.  Short, balding, and homely.  But, his English was better.  He said, “Hi, why don’t you let me take you to lunch where all the Italians like to eat.  After we have lunch, I will show you around Rome.  I have a car and can show you a good time.”

This time, I said, “Okay.”

His small car careened down a winding street, and I clenched my jaw, praying we wouldn’t get into an accident.  He treated me to a simple meal, consisting of chicken and pasta and a short carafe of white wine, which he diluted with water, saying that Italians like to dilute wine.  The restaurant was small and average, nothing special.  It was filled with Italians who were on their lunch break.  He also took me to a hill with a splendid view of the city.

I had a good time.  The problem was he wanted romance.  Eh, I wasn’t in the mood for it.  I told him to drop me off at my hotel.  I said, “Ciao, thank you so much.”

The next evening, the phone in my room rang, and the receptionist told me the Italian was here to talk to me.  I replied, “Please tell him I am sick and cannot see him.”

The next morning, I checked out of the hotel.  I had already been in Rome for two weeks, so it was time to go.  I was 23 and ready for my next adventure.

I must say, men make life interesting.

Glenda or Gigi?

This is a photo of David and me at a Halloween party in 1988.  I am dressed as a witch, David as a clown.

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The name Harvey seems to be in the news lately.  First, there was Hurricane Harvey, then there are the rape allegations made against Harvey Weinstein, and now we are reading about JFK’s killer, Lee Harvey Oswald.  Come to think of it, my former boss was named Harvey.  He is a retired attorney.  How many Harveys do you know personally?  Any friends or relatives of yours named Harvey?  It’s not a common name.

You may be wondering why I use gigi-hawaii as my blog name.  It’s obviously not my real name.  Well, back in 1997, I joined City Pub, an online chat room.  First, I went in as Glenda (my real name), but nobody paid attention to me.  Then, I called myself gigi and got a better reaction.  But, another woman called herself Gigi.  So, to differentiate myself from her, I called myself gigi-hawaii.  The nickname has stuck ever since.  Imagine:  I have been gigi-hawaii for twenty years (1997-2017).

My parents named me after the 1940s actress, Glenda Farrell, and as we all know, the good witch in “The Wizard of Oz” was named Glinda.

I wish I could change my real name, Glenda, to Gigi.  Gigi sounds better than Glenda.  Cuter, prettier, happier, wittier, sexier???

Never take hot showers for granted

This is a photo of me, feeding the birds at the Marble Temple in Bangkok, Thailand, in 1969.  I was an English teacher at Thammasat University, AUA Language Center, and Voice of America.

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It is after midnight Thursday, and I have just had a hot shower and put on a fresh muumuu.  This is understandable when I tell you I had a fever of 101 degrees and went to bed at 4 pm yesterday after taking a dose of Theraflu for my cold.  I am wide awake now and feeling much better.  My fever is gone.

While I was in the hot shower, I recalled taking cold showers in Thailand in 1969.  I resided at the YWCA in Bangkok, where there was no hot water at all.  However, Thailand was very hot and humid, so I got accustomed to cold showers.

Then, there was my 1-1/2 month period in Munich, Germany (1969-1970).  I had been staying with my American friend, Andrea, whom I had met at the opera.  Long story short, Andrea’s landlady told me to leave her house, as she wanted only one tenant, not two.  I found a room elsewhere in Munich.  It was primitive with no hot water or shower stall.  I had to boil a pot of water on the hot plate and mix it with cold water in a baby bath tub I had purchased.  Since it was winter time, the water was freezing, and I had a horrible time bathing and washing my long hair in that small tub.

I had a similar experience in New York (1970-1975), when the boiler in my building broke down in the dead of winter, and I had to shower with freezing cold water.

Now, I am back home in Hawaii.  There is hot water with the pull of a faucet handle, and I have the luxury of taking a hot shower whenever I want to.

I am truly blessed to live in modern Hawaii.  Never take hot showers for granted.

I’d be crazy to move back to New York

Pink hibiscus in my garden.

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I have a cold and am treating it with Theraflu.  Hope it works, because I am hosting Thanksgiving on November 23 at my home and don’t want to spread my germs.  My niece, Shanna, is recovering from liver surgery, so I especially don’t want her to catch my cold.  You know how colds linger.

My Thanksgiving party will be potluck, and 14 people will be present, most of them family members.  More than ever, I am convinced that Hawaii is the place for me.  Now and then, I do yearn for the excitement of New York.  But, I know that my family in Hawaii beats the entertainment in New York by a large margin.  I would be crazy to move back there.

Besides, I know only four people in New York:  two friends in Manhattan, and two relatives in Brooklyn.  Nobody else.  Whereas, here in Hawaii, I know so many people.  My maternal grandmother gave birth to ten children, and most of them had children of their own, and these children had children, many of whom live on this island.

So, yes, everyone will bring something to share, and we will truly have a feast on Thanksgiving.  Just hope this damn cold disappears by then.

Home in Las Vegas

This is a photo of me and my daughters, Maria (standing) and Lisa (seated).  We were having lunch at 53 By The Sea (Hawaii, May 2016).

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My daughter, Lisa, recently bought a 3 bedroom 2 bath house in Las Vegas and sent us photos of it.  Beautiful!  Modern!  I loved it so much that I considered selling our house in Hawaii and buying one near Lisa’s home.  But, then, I realized that Las Vegas does not have a symphony orchestra or opera.  Boo!  I have decided to remain in Hawaii, where there is a symphony orchestra and opera.  You all know how I love classical music.

Lisa will be visiting us in January.  She told us that she plans to work on Thanksgiving and Christmas.

David advised her to avoid music festivals held outdoors.  She was at a music festival one week before the deadly massacre and is relieved that the shooter chose not to open fire on her group.

One of her patients is someone who survived the shooting.  He is in ICU right now.  We hope he recovers and can go home shortly.

Cataract surgery

This is David, sitting in the doctor’s waiting room prior to surgery.

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Yesterday, David had cataract surgery on his left eye at Eye Surgery Center of Hawaii.  Dr. Lee had thirteen patients in the afternoon, so David wasn’t done until 7:15 p.m.  Though he had an intravenous sedative, he wasn’t knocked out.  Numbing eye drops were used to prevent pain.  All he felt was pressure on his eye ball.  It was a simple procedure, which cost David $180 with Humana Medicare Advantage HMO paying the rest of the bill.

I waited outside, listening to music from the 1950s, such as Elvis Presley’s “Jailhouse Rock” and The Righteous Brothers’ “Unchained Melody.”  This is the type of music Dr. Lee’s elderly patients would remember from their childhood.  It brought back pleasant memories for me.  I wasn’t hooked on classical music until age 23, when I heard Bach’s Double Violin Concerto for the first time in Thailand, where I had been an English teacher.  So, before age 23, I used to listen to rock, pop, and folk music.

David will see Dr. Lee again today for follow up.  He will have to wear this plastic patch over his left eye for a week at night to prevent him from touching his eye while sleeping:

“Carmen”

Yesterday, David and I saw Bizet’s “Carmen” at the Blaisdell Concert Hall, which was packed with enthusiastic fans.  We had not seen this tragic opera in over ten years, and we enjoyed it immensely.  The famous mezzo-soprano, Kate Aldrich, starred as Carmen.

Before the performance, we sat outside to listen to Dr. Lynne Johnson speak about Georges Bizet, who composed “Carmen.”  He lived in France during the 1800s and composed more than thirty operas, but “Carmen” is the only one that is now performed.  Bizet died at the age of 36, three months after its debut, depressed that it was considered a flop and failure.  Little did he know that this opera would be so well loved around the world.

One of the reasons it was considered a flop and failure back in the 1800s in Paris is that the plot is about a promiscuous gypsy, who flaunts her assets to any man near by.  It took awhile for people to accept and appreciate the plot.

Dr. Lynne Johnson:

A group of musicians performed in the lobby before the opera:

David:

Me:

During intermission, people drank champagne or stood in the lobby to get some fresh air:

I truly feel a kinship with people who love classical music and the opera.  These are my people, the ones at the Blaisdell Concert Hall.

The military or the Peace Corps

I took this photo at the Korean Festival in Hawaii (August 2016).

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It’s too bad that President Trump has loaded his staff with military generals.  True, these generals have leadership skills, but it seems to me that they are itching for a fight, because that’s what generals do.  How do you suppose they became generals?  By killing lots of people.

Recently, we in Hawaii were informed by the government to take certain steps to ensure our survival should there be a nuclear attack.

One way, the government says, is to seal the windows with plastic and tape.  I wonder about the efficacy of doing so.  Wouldn’t a nuclear blast shatter the windows, allowing radiation to pour through the windows?

Another way is to stay in a room with no windows.  That means a closet.  So, how long are we supposed to sit in a closet?  What if we have to go to the bathroom?  What then?

Humans have been killing each other since the Cave Age.  It doesn’t have to be that way.

I have a better idea.  Trump should hire Peace Corps volunteers to give him advice.  Get rid of the generals on his staff.  The military likes to kill people.  The Peace Corps likes to help people.  Two very different philosophies.

Give peace a chance.

Coffee: Risks and benefits

Here I am, sipping my coffee and typing these words on the computer.  Will I get cancer from sipping coffee?  I saw a headline recently indicating that the state of California is going to label bags of coffee with the warning that the chemical sprayed on coffee beans is carcinogenic.  Sheesh!  Good news, eh?

I have no intention of forgoing my morning cups of coffee.  I would rather have coffee than sex in the morning.  Sex I can give up, but hell if I’ll let you take coffee from me.

Anyway, I read somewhere that drinking lots of coffee will prevent you from developing dementia.

Coffee also is an antioxidant, which is supposed to be good for you. I really don’t know what antioxidants are, but scientists say that you should aim to have at least one antioxidant per day.

So, you’re damned if you do drink coffee, and damned if you don’t.

I might get cancer.  But, halleluia, praise the lord, I won’t have dementia.

Good, clean, simple living

This is how we dine in our home (December 2016).

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Yesterday, I had a brilliant idea.  I wanted to dine at two restaurants that President Obama seemed to enjoy when he vacationed in Hawaii:  Buzz’s Steak House (for lunch) and Island Snow (for dessert), both located in Kailua.

So, David and I drove to Kailua and then swerved into Lanikai, where Buzz’s is located.  But, there was no way we could find a space to park our car.  The area in front of Buzz’s was full, and the streets were jam packed with people and cars.  Lanikai is beautiful, as it is located right next to the ocean.  But, it is just too congested for my taste.  I would never live there.  In fact, it’s highly unlikely that we will ever find ourselves in the Kailua area again, as it is not worth the effort of driving there.

We had no choice but to leave Kailua and drive to Thai Bistro in Pearl Kai for a Thai lunch, which was delicious, by the way.  Thai cuisine is my favorite cuisine, so all was well, and the day was not wasted.

Today, what should we do?  I am thinking of making a potato salad, grilling steaks in our patio, tossing a green salad with Italian dressing, and having a good homemade lunch with David.  There’s a lemon meringue pie, beckoning to us from the refrigerator.  No alcohol, but how about a glass of chilled sparkling apple cranberry juice?

Good, clean, simple living.  That’s how I like my life in Hawaii.