02-25-2012 0525 Sea Breeze Cabins, Sanibel Island(it’s not Kansas, Christine!), Fla.
OK, Atul, lets run the damn check list. Mild breeze off the Gulf of Mexico. Check. Whispering palms.Check. Ceiling fan with those built in light bulb sockets gently rotating over the king sized bed. Check. Cozy little cabin with the occasional palmetto bug on the front porch next to the plastic dishpan you wash the sand off your feet after crossing the shell driveway from the beach. Check. Hmm…well; must be Paradise after all, I guess we can get on with the operation.
Only my companion on this trip isn’t Dr Gawande or Dr Vergese, it’s Ms. Sala!! And guess what: she loves Florida and Sanibel in particular. I guess these checklists actually work after all!!
I mean, what’s not to love in this season? Oh sure, a few extra sentient beings who must be kept away from the voting booth at any cost, but it’s too early for the mosquitos, there were actually 14 inches of rain somewhere in the not too distant past, and Steve, our airboat driver, was avuncular and full of information (some of it less than totally well researched) about everything from apple snails to the origins of the Seminole.
“Yes I have been in an airboat” said Sala when I proposed this monstrously un-PC activity. “ In New Zealand!”. Well, no honey, that was a JETboat…but the two have a lot in common. In both cases you get into something that has the innocent look of a child’s plaything scaled up. Yesterday, at Osceola Panthers small airboat ride, gift shop and snack bar (proudly located 15 miles west of Krome Avenue on the Tamiami Trail US 41 and open daily 9 AM to 5 pm) we wandered around said gift shop as we waited for ‘the driver to gas up the boat’ (that’s the non- PC part; no further environmental horrors). Way too many little tanned and dried alligator heads (well, if we sold veal heads in stores there would be a general stampede to vegan eating), but the price on those at $5 seems below parity from the 1970’s when I first came down here for medical school. In contrast, the price of the Miccosukee patchwork little girl skirts that I bought on a starving student diet for $12.50 or so have escalated to $250 (the adult versions are $750). But then, it’s been several generations of tourists telling the next gen ‘when you’re out in the Everglades pick up a couple of those darling patchwork skirts that uncle Al brought back for the kids’.
Anyway, walked down the dock and on to the airboat. Steve’s neck was definitely tanned way beyond being red, his belly showed the evidence of hoisting an occasional one with the boys, and his manner of speech confirmed his answer to Sala’s question as to how he knew the difference between a hammock and the river of grass that we embarked on. ‘ I grew up here’, he said. ‘You know your backyard; I know mine’.
So, the commonality of AIRboats and JETboats is noise and speed. Part of the speed is because it is unexpected. 30 mph on the well-marked highway; no big deal. Through a mixed landscape of grass and small bushes, without windscreens and accompanied by a noise that literally makes it impossible to hear yourself talk, it’s pretty stimulating. But the airboat , at least with expert drivers, may be the only remaining fossil fuel powered vehicle that does not have a seatbelt. It really turns softly, like an airplane caught in a two dimensional dream; an eerie feeling as the driver slews us from side to side to follow trails through the grass, or to depart and slide over a whole clump of grass.
We stopped several times, once at a chickee (living platform) whose thatched huts had to be rebuilt after Katrina leveled everything, that had a thermometer out in the open. It was just topping 100 F on a windy day; Steve assured us 120 was not unusual in the summer. And he remarked that when he was doing rescues, if he could not reach the stranded parties before dark, he would advise them (by cell phone I guess) to get in the water and cover their faces with a shirt, to survive the mosquito swarms.
So, it was the right time, and even though everyone assured us it wasn’t a good time for birds, there were plenty. Egrets of several sizes, anhinga’s diving in the clear water of the canals (called ‘borrow’ canals, because the limestone that is the rock bottom of the river of grass was ‘borrowed’ to make the road you are driving on), and at the Big Cedar Park visitor center, a flock of ibis flying over. 15 foot alligators too. Lazing around on the banks and swimming with a casual grace that you never get to see in those concrete washbasins they give them at the zoo.
And several days ago, Sala got to touch a wild manatee.
So we arrived at our overnight paradise here in time to walk through the spartina and onto the beach, which is just like any beach that happens to be part of 18 miles of white sand and mounds of shells. Yeah, the mounds may be smaller than described in ‘The Lions Paw’( a children’s book which features run away orphans, a search for a shell, and Sanibel-Captiva prominently) but they are still here, enough little bivalves and other mollusk shells to withstand the army of tourists that are visiting just as we are.
There were way more parchment tube worm burrows (Chaetopterus probably) on the beach that I’ve ever seen..perhaps the only indication of oily trouble under the water. But certainly no oil on the beach. The water…well, it’s like SF bay, only pleasantly warm. For that clear blue-green you got go to the Keys.
We’d spent the week in Miami, with Alan making meetings in Boca to talk about medical schools, and Sala playing with Youme and Song (who is maybe 16 months now, with that age’s reserved affect until you pass whatever test she is administering and she cracks the first big smile, instantly bonding you to her). To be fair, we stayed in SOUTH Miami, not downtown, near where David and Edith and Youme and Hai and Song live, and where I lived during my medical school days. So running there in the already warm mornings, sunlight through palms, nut husks and palmetto fronds underfoot, is a romantic return to feeling young and fit and having only the set tasks of school to comfort the brain.
I also got sick on this trip; the same GI thing the whole nation is dealing with, only this was a repeat of a 5 day episode two weeks ago, and lasted only 24 hours. Leaving me so very grateful for feeling good most of the time. And so much more empathic to the difficulty of those who are in a prolonged period of not feeling good.
It’s been a good trip from the relationship point of view. Another persons point of view, particularly when it comes from Sala, who has been part of most of my memories, makes the passage that much more interesting. And as a couple, you have entirely different conversations with new people. Much more detail about babies and clothing, perhaps less caution because our obvious difference makes some kind of statement, gives some kind of reassurance, particularly when traveling in the South. And as Sala says, having that nice young couple in the White House means that people know who she is.
So, a run on the beach when the sun comes up in an hour (very likely), some more searching those piles of shells for the Lions Paw (very unlikely), breakfast on mango and papaya (the black sapote and other exotics became ripe yesterday, and a ripe sapote must be eaten right away, since it passes into corruption far more rapidly than those fruits we encounter in supermarkets) , and then head out into the river of cars to cross the river of grass back to the pad of cement and our flight back to San Francisco, to find Aminta and the little dog.
Aloha
Alan
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Running, jumping, and standing still at the Exploratorium
1-28-12 San Francisco
Sala, Alan, and Fuji cranked up the mighty Prius and on Saturday last drove over to Berkeley to pick up Amalia (now 9) and Joaquin (almost 7) to go check out the San Francisco Exploratorium. Perhaps because it’s primarily aimed at Children who appreciate long words, more than 40 years after its founding in 1969 The Exploratorium is still called by its full name..no cute contractions based on geography or Manhatten wannabees. And it’s still housed in the Northern end of the Palace of Fine Arts ( Maybeck, 1915, built for the Panama-Pacific Exposition (sometimes called the ‘Innocent Exposition’), and designed as an open rotunda and colonnades to evoke a Roman ruin…and to create additionally an exposition space in the semicircular building that now houses a theatre as well as the Exploratorium). The collection of watery reflecting pools and fountains accommodate satisfying numbers of well fed waterfowl. The russet colored massive stones soar over the walkways, positively shouting ‘ You think one lousy 1906 earthquake and devastating fire can stop US??’. Nowadays, the Palace colonnades are generally occupied with brides and grooms being photographed. But we didn’t see any as we arrived; perhaps too cold.
We left Fuji in the car, after a brief walk around the meadow across the street near the St Francis Yacht Club, but about half way through the visit, Sala noticed a dog, without any Service Dog paraphernalia, and after confounding several of the ‘explainers’ (young people who roam around doing what docents do in less lively places) , I finally got the answer from the Head Explorer for that moment, a dowager type seated behind the office desk; ‘dogs are allowed as long as you are fully responsible for them’. Without pausing to consider all the hypotheticals ( …suppose an elephant, escaped from the circus, sneaks quietly into the building, is frightened by the dog and tramples a small child? Suppose….) I extracted the little dog from her prison and marched her back inside, both of us quite delighted.
By that time, A , J (and us grandparents) had eaten pizza and sodas at the little café (no upscale Latte’s or white china cups and plates here, thank you; think Zoo and you have the right level of amenities) and raced off to see the ‘Light’ exhibit. First on the list; you put your chin on a special chin plate, look at the target, and the camera takes a picture and then displays two versions of your face, one constructed of the right side and its flipped dup, and the other constructed from the left side. There’s a switch that lets you elide to adjust the nose width. Yes, we are all quite different right to left. Second; a puddle of light on the floor, made up of overlaps of the three primaries, so that the center is a tetroid of white light. Ho hum. But look what happens when you move more red than blue. The ‘shadow’ turns yellow, based on which lights are left unblocked. Then there’s a large screen classic Pac-man game, but with the controls separated, so it takes a team of 4 to operate the little cookie munching ghost threatened Pac person. And the monochrome room, where all the vivid colors of the vivid children are reduced to a dun colored hue, which you can resurrect with a white light source.
The kid’s favorite is the bubble tray. Like most of the favorites, it’s simple, just much more durable and bigger than what you can have at home. The aluminum rings are 2 feet and more in diameter, so with a little practice Amalia and then Joaquin are pulling up soap film tubes and bringing them down over their heads. An Explainer has worked out how to cut loose a big bubble, which then hangs overhead for a long time. When I try it, just before closing time, about 3 out of 4 times there is no film, and I am somewhat foolishly bringing an empty hoop up over my head. Then the soap molecules pack parallel, the surface becomes tense, the atmosphere is trapped, the bubble expands and an opalescent hood, like the break of a wave in many colors hangs all around me for just an instant before breaking into a few drops of soapy water.
I kept a casual eye on the bubble chamber; one other nerd headed right for it, towing a group of friends. He was probably saying the same stuff I said to Sala ( J and A glazed over very fast); we are seeing the traces of ions left by muons; cosmic rays. This is how most high energy particle work was done until 40 years ago. We are looking at the passage of muons and electrons that were released by supernova millions, billions of years ago and finally arrive here, San Francisco. Well, the kids are right; this is dated stuff. No chance of seeing the Higgs boson here.
Upstairs, accompanied now by an enthusiastic if somewhat confused little dog (who has transformed our family from viewers to exhibitors..with each dog-child encounter the words ‘fully responsible” come ringing in my ears) we are in the ‘Sound’ section. I think the most fun was the walk softly room..a 12 foot tray of gravel with microphones that record a ‘sound score’ of the scrunching you make walking across the tray. I tramp in at a 75 with normal gait. I can get it down to 17 by great care. Sala, walking mindfully one supposes, scores just over 5…Amalia, light as a feather in her holiday Uggs, gets a 4.2, and after a number of leaping scrunchy 40’s, Joaquin somehow manages an incredible 1.7. But there’s also a room of 4 different marimbas (where Sala and I rediscover we have nothing special going in that department, but have a great time), and a place where you can play drums along with a selection of recording stars. And, amazingly, there’s a nice little booth made for two with headphones where you can listen to 5 different conversations between couples, then press the red button for the answer of which is more effective..or another set of numbered buttons that explain why that particular conversation is effective or offensive. From this, I find that expressing anger is not all bad…good to know. Exactly how this exhibit got here is hard to say, but it’s definitely from Berkeley (says so on the attribution).
There is a special case that is devoted to the parts of exhibits that wear out after a million duty cycles, but generally the exhibits are amazingly safe, durable, and self-explanatory. I guess those that aren’t break and are removed. Some date back to before Frank Oppenheimer (younger brother of Oppie) put up the original collection of exhibits…demonstrations of wave action made of steel and brass rods. Model steam engines that work from compressed air. A model of a 4 cylinder internal combustion engine that can be cranked to demonstrate how it works. The air cannon, the mist bowl, the collections of plants and animals. The classroom, for groups and particularly for teachers is not in operation..its Saturday after all.
All in all, we probably saw only a scant hundred of the over 475 participatory exhibits. Wikipedia says 560,000 people visit annually, and the Exploratorium ( a non profit) had an annual budget of $44.7 million. Made the price of so-so pizza less painful. Joaquin’s hands were full of bubbles as we left, meaning he was not able to take a last turn at the sand design turntables ( Alan intervened as he was contemplating mixing the bubbles and the sand). Later, Joaquin did some translational research work on the beach, attacking the larger palette offered there. Fuji, released from her leash, dug right along beside him. Amalia constructed small rocky islands that were then inundated by the advancing surf. Alan watched the wonders of the pacific and of the children.
If you want to see the Exploratorium in its original glory, ya gotta visit soon; sometime in 2013 it’s scheduled to move to the fleshpots of Pier 17 on the Embarcadero, leaving the Palace to the newlyweds and the swans.
Sala, Alan, and Fuji cranked up the mighty Prius and on Saturday last drove over to Berkeley to pick up Amalia (now 9) and Joaquin (almost 7) to go check out the San Francisco Exploratorium. Perhaps because it’s primarily aimed at Children who appreciate long words, more than 40 years after its founding in 1969 The Exploratorium is still called by its full name..no cute contractions based on geography or Manhatten wannabees. And it’s still housed in the Northern end of the Palace of Fine Arts ( Maybeck, 1915, built for the Panama-Pacific Exposition (sometimes called the ‘Innocent Exposition’), and designed as an open rotunda and colonnades to evoke a Roman ruin…and to create additionally an exposition space in the semicircular building that now houses a theatre as well as the Exploratorium). The collection of watery reflecting pools and fountains accommodate satisfying numbers of well fed waterfowl. The russet colored massive stones soar over the walkways, positively shouting ‘ You think one lousy 1906 earthquake and devastating fire can stop US??’. Nowadays, the Palace colonnades are generally occupied with brides and grooms being photographed. But we didn’t see any as we arrived; perhaps too cold.
We left Fuji in the car, after a brief walk around the meadow across the street near the St Francis Yacht Club, but about half way through the visit, Sala noticed a dog, without any Service Dog paraphernalia, and after confounding several of the ‘explainers’ (young people who roam around doing what docents do in less lively places) , I finally got the answer from the Head Explorer for that moment, a dowager type seated behind the office desk; ‘dogs are allowed as long as you are fully responsible for them’. Without pausing to consider all the hypotheticals ( …suppose an elephant, escaped from the circus, sneaks quietly into the building, is frightened by the dog and tramples a small child? Suppose….) I extracted the little dog from her prison and marched her back inside, both of us quite delighted.
By that time, A , J (and us grandparents) had eaten pizza and sodas at the little café (no upscale Latte’s or white china cups and plates here, thank you; think Zoo and you have the right level of amenities) and raced off to see the ‘Light’ exhibit. First on the list; you put your chin on a special chin plate, look at the target, and the camera takes a picture and then displays two versions of your face, one constructed of the right side and its flipped dup, and the other constructed from the left side. There’s a switch that lets you elide to adjust the nose width. Yes, we are all quite different right to left. Second; a puddle of light on the floor, made up of overlaps of the three primaries, so that the center is a tetroid of white light. Ho hum. But look what happens when you move more red than blue. The ‘shadow’ turns yellow, based on which lights are left unblocked. Then there’s a large screen classic Pac-man game, but with the controls separated, so it takes a team of 4 to operate the little cookie munching ghost threatened Pac person. And the monochrome room, where all the vivid colors of the vivid children are reduced to a dun colored hue, which you can resurrect with a white light source.
The kid’s favorite is the bubble tray. Like most of the favorites, it’s simple, just much more durable and bigger than what you can have at home. The aluminum rings are 2 feet and more in diameter, so with a little practice Amalia and then Joaquin are pulling up soap film tubes and bringing them down over their heads. An Explainer has worked out how to cut loose a big bubble, which then hangs overhead for a long time. When I try it, just before closing time, about 3 out of 4 times there is no film, and I am somewhat foolishly bringing an empty hoop up over my head. Then the soap molecules pack parallel, the surface becomes tense, the atmosphere is trapped, the bubble expands and an opalescent hood, like the break of a wave in many colors hangs all around me for just an instant before breaking into a few drops of soapy water.
I kept a casual eye on the bubble chamber; one other nerd headed right for it, towing a group of friends. He was probably saying the same stuff I said to Sala ( J and A glazed over very fast); we are seeing the traces of ions left by muons; cosmic rays. This is how most high energy particle work was done until 40 years ago. We are looking at the passage of muons and electrons that were released by supernova millions, billions of years ago and finally arrive here, San Francisco. Well, the kids are right; this is dated stuff. No chance of seeing the Higgs boson here.
Upstairs, accompanied now by an enthusiastic if somewhat confused little dog (who has transformed our family from viewers to exhibitors..with each dog-child encounter the words ‘fully responsible” come ringing in my ears) we are in the ‘Sound’ section. I think the most fun was the walk softly room..a 12 foot tray of gravel with microphones that record a ‘sound score’ of the scrunching you make walking across the tray. I tramp in at a 75 with normal gait. I can get it down to 17 by great care. Sala, walking mindfully one supposes, scores just over 5…Amalia, light as a feather in her holiday Uggs, gets a 4.2, and after a number of leaping scrunchy 40’s, Joaquin somehow manages an incredible 1.7. But there’s also a room of 4 different marimbas (where Sala and I rediscover we have nothing special going in that department, but have a great time), and a place where you can play drums along with a selection of recording stars. And, amazingly, there’s a nice little booth made for two with headphones where you can listen to 5 different conversations between couples, then press the red button for the answer of which is more effective..or another set of numbered buttons that explain why that particular conversation is effective or offensive. From this, I find that expressing anger is not all bad…good to know. Exactly how this exhibit got here is hard to say, but it’s definitely from Berkeley (says so on the attribution).
There is a special case that is devoted to the parts of exhibits that wear out after a million duty cycles, but generally the exhibits are amazingly safe, durable, and self-explanatory. I guess those that aren’t break and are removed. Some date back to before Frank Oppenheimer (younger brother of Oppie) put up the original collection of exhibits…demonstrations of wave action made of steel and brass rods. Model steam engines that work from compressed air. A model of a 4 cylinder internal combustion engine that can be cranked to demonstrate how it works. The air cannon, the mist bowl, the collections of plants and animals. The classroom, for groups and particularly for teachers is not in operation..its Saturday after all.
All in all, we probably saw only a scant hundred of the over 475 participatory exhibits. Wikipedia says 560,000 people visit annually, and the Exploratorium ( a non profit) had an annual budget of $44.7 million. Made the price of so-so pizza less painful. Joaquin’s hands were full of bubbles as we left, meaning he was not able to take a last turn at the sand design turntables ( Alan intervened as he was contemplating mixing the bubbles and the sand). Later, Joaquin did some translational research work on the beach, attacking the larger palette offered there. Fuji, released from her leash, dug right along beside him. Amalia constructed small rocky islands that were then inundated by the advancing surf. Alan watched the wonders of the pacific and of the children.
If you want to see the Exploratorium in its original glory, ya gotta visit soon; sometime in 2013 it’s scheduled to move to the fleshpots of Pier 17 on the Embarcadero, leaving the Palace to the newlyweds and the swans.
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