cindy's world

I went back and forth about whether to post this for fear that Mr. W will get mad at me (or at the very least, be uncomfortable about it), but I figure heck, Diana recently posted her first and only photo on her blog and wrote something about the cute boy in her photo…

On Friday, I found myself alone across our hotel lobby bar from a cute guy. I figured there’s no harm in taking a photo, you know, for the women who read my blog, so I did. Unfortunately, the photo does not do the guy justice. Oh well. I tried, girls.

We wandered around the civic center location around the hotel in the morning (City Hall, courthouse, Asian Art Museum) and explored the Farmer’s Market across the street. The above photo depicts a bird picking up human trash in front of carved quote “We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors; we borrow it from our children.” This fountain was next to the Farmer’s Market across from our hotel. I liked the irony.

We had breakfast in our hotel lobby restaurant, checked out, missed our shuttle, hailed a cab, and got to the airport without further ado. In the security line, a guy about my age in front of me turned and asked if we were there to attend the USC-Cal game. I said we weren’t, and then said I’m a Bruin. He stopped talking to me and turned his back to me abruptly, rather snobbily. We all laughed, and then he said he was attending the UCLA-USC game in December. The rest of the overheard conversation at the airport was seemingly a bunch of Trojans talking trash about the game, we won, blah blah, we’re awesome, blah blah, we showed them, blah blah, we’re overprivileged and undereducated, blah blah.

Oh yeah. I did remember to give Mr. W the window seat on the flight back. I got to sit in the middle of the section next to a mother holding an infant with very healthy lungs. No, actually, the little baby girl was very cute. She was only loud for a couple of minutes.

Saturday started at like 7am. We were going to take the trolley ride to Pier 39/Fisherman’s Wharf, and see how we could fit Alcatraz into our day. The line at the trolley was way too long due to the SEA OF CRIMSON all over the freaking place. Yup. USC at Cal Saturday around noon. I could not believe the number of Trojan fans in SF for the game. No wonder the flights were booked, hotels were booked, and the traffic was horrendous. We ended up walking to the edge of Chinatown and grabbing a taxi to Pier 32. The line for Alcatraz was hideous, too. They were booked up all the way thru Monday, despite the fact that a ferry leaves for Alcatraz every half an hour. But here’s what we discovered. We can get a stand-by ticket, get in the very short stand-by line, and be on the very next ferry. Must be a well-kept secret. Of course, there were the usual disclaimers of “seating is not guaranteed,” etc.

Alcatraz was actually very interesting and pretty. The audio tour of the jails was pretty good. I guess. Except that I still feel “turn left and keep walking” is confusing because “left” is so subjective, and they should’ve stuck to “walk down the aisle toward the clock.” For those who have never done the audio tour or know anything about it, you wear a headset that plays a tape of the tour, and when you get to a particular spot in the jail, you press “play.” The tour begins to play and has really cool interviews with former inmates and sound effects of the jails, with some trivia information as it tells you where to walk and where to look as it introduces the jail to you. I found the escape attempts particularly engaging.

After Alcatraz, we explored Pier 39 and Fisherman’s Wharf. We walked by an oxygen bar place where for $20 you suck up scented oxygen for 10 mins as someone gives you a backrub, head massage and heated shoulder wrap (with props they sell and try to peddle off on you), and 10 minutes in a water massage chamber. I can’t say I felt much different after the oxygen, altho I hear it’s great if you have a hangover (which I still have never had). I didn’t buy any of the products because I have most of the stuff they sell already, or some version thereof.

We walked to a meeting spot outdoors by a giant Xmas tree in an open square closer to our hotel and met up with Diana and The Same Mystery Date from the nite before, but they were wearing different clothes, so I assume nothing inappropriate happened when we left them. =} Mr. W and I got to watch these 2 attorneys bicker about some insignificant thing that they’ve apparently been bickering about for the past 2 days, and then The Date was excused to attend his own dinner as we had dinner with Diana at an outdoor French restaurant called Cafe Bastille. Excargot, more wine, good entrees. Diana then gave us a car tour of the city. Mr. W’s camera snapped away at the Golden Gate Bridge, the Palace of Fine Arts (a gargantuan Greek-inspired structure with lots of pretty Corinthian columns), and we ended up at Diana’s favorite dessert place, a gourmet bakery-restaurant called Citizen Cake. There, the Mystery Date returned and Diana and I shared stories of our years living together, over dessert. Diana and Date shared, again, the same bickering argument they had earlier over the same topic. The bartender and I shared a conversation about how freaking cold it was for me in SF that weekend with the drizzle on Friday that we walked in, and the sunny but clear but cold low 60F weather on Saturday and Sunday. They all laughed at me for monopolizing Mr. W’s giant heavy coat all weekend, and the bartender (who was from Pasadena) said sympathetically that it took him years to adjust to the weather up north, too, altho this weekend was considered “warm and nice.”

(rest mouse pointer over each photo for caption)

We got up Friday morning at the buttcrack of dawn and arrived at the airport by 6:30a to catch our 7:45a flight. Mr. W gave me the window seat. As we descended over San Francisco, he scrambled over my lap and peered excitedly out the window, pointing things out. It was endearing, and it reminded me of a large dog overpowering and standing his front paws on someone in a car seat to look out a car window at a passing car or another dog. I made a note to give Mr. W the window seat on our flight back.

We shuttled over to our hotel near the Civic Center in SF and got there before 10a, when we were told we can’t check in until closer to 3p because the entire hotel was booked solid for the weekend. (We would find out why on Saturday.) We walked around Chinatown, looked at the shops, I relived my childhood in Asia, we grabbed dim sum, walked to and around Embarcadero.

I thought about calling college roommie Diana at 9a to tell her we landed, but I figured she’d either be scrambling to get ready for work, or she’d be at work, so I’ll call her later. I also figured as soon as she settled in at 9:30a or so, she’d call me to check up on us. I had my cell on, and we did our tourist sight-seeing thing. I was a bit surprised when we walked back to our hotel at 2:30p and I hadn’t heard from Diana yet, but Mr. W and I were tired from our hours and hours of walking, so we checked in and took a nap. I figured she’d call me closer to the evening to finalize plans for meeting up with everyone for dinner. At some point the hotel room phone rang, and I remember groggily forcing Mr. W to pick it up even tho he had to reach over me (and he was napping, too), and I remember him writing some number down on a pad of paper and saying, “Call Diana,” but I looked at the clock, figured we had plenty of time before dinner reservations at 6:30p, and went back to sleep. 3:30p-ish, the hotel phone rang again. It was Diana, and she sounded frantic. “Didn’t the hotel give you my message?” she demanded. I didn’t know what she was talking about. She started saying that when she gets to our hotel she was going to totally yell at someone about that. Turned out my cell phone had no reception the entire time it was on and Diana had been wigging out all day not being able to get a hold of us and she checked the flight and it didn’t explode in mid-air, and she checked the hotel and they said we hadn’t checked in but that they’d tell us she called when we did (the 1st phone call).
[here is where I’d insert a group photo of the dinner when/if Jen emails me one, hint hint]
Diana and Jen picked us up at the hotel and we took a traffic-congested drive over to one of Diana’s favorite restaurants, an Asian fusion place called The House. We got there about 10 minutes late, ordered some appetizers, Brad and Val got there 40 minutes late due to the very bad traffic, and then Mike and Christi showed up a full hour late. I had been in touch on the phone with everyone to check on their progress, and apparently the traffic was horrendous everywhere in the city. (I blame this all on USC, by the way.) These friends had been driving 2 hours or so to meet up with us for dinner! I felt horrible and really honored at the same time. Dinner was delicious, we had good wine, even better company. I kept laughing. It was impressive I was able to keep any food inside my mouth. “So this is Wilco-Mike,” Mr. W said. Mike stood and shook his hand. “And I only know you as Mr. W,” Wilco-Mike said. It was hilarious realizing that they had heard about each other primarily thru my blog and it was like the old BBS days when at the meet, we’re finally able to connect faces to names to screen names, and it was like, “Oh, so YOU’RE Dark Knight,” while thinking He totally lied about his physical description. Ew.
[I’d like to insert a photo here of Fuse, Jen. 🙂 My camera was out of battery at this point.]
After dinner we hit up a martini bar in North Beach called Fuse and there were a few rounds of shots going around. This shot called a Chocolate Cake was delicious! You scrape the sugar off a slice of lemon without biting into the lemon, do the shot that really does taste like chocolate, then bite into the lemon. More laughing and antics. I loudly presented Jen with two tickets Mr. W and I had been given off the street earlier, for “free IQ and personality tests” offered by the Church of Scientology in SoMa (South Market Street area). It was hilarious because of this entry that Jen wrote a few weeks ago. Diana’s mystery date showed up soon thereafter and told us how many panicked phone calls and emails Diana had with him about her inability to contact us all day, we had more drinks, and then split.

Brad, Val, Jen, Diana, Diana’s Date, Mr. W and I went to a club called the Velvet Lounge, where we did some dancing, Diana and her date did a bit more drinking, and the night concluded for everyone but Diana and Date at 11:30p (we griped about being “too old for this”) and Brad drove everyone back to their respective residences). I hear that Diana and Date did quite a bit more partying and hitting up different joints after that.

My first Halloween was in 1982, 4 months after I immigrated to this country from Asia. I remember just hating makeup, and was pissy that my aunt (Cousin Jen and Cousin Diana’s mom, whom we were residing with at the time) made me wear some as part of my costume. My other aunt had sewn costumes for Diana, Jennifer and me. We were traditional Chinese girls (how far from traditional Chinese girls the three of us are now, haha).

Altho Diana and Jennifer didn’t care for makeup either and I remember that the lipsticky feel bothered them, they were better sports about that than me. In the photo, from left to right are Diana, me, Jeannie, Jennifer and Kai. I can’t believe Jeannie and Kai are MARRIED now.

I didn’t understand the concept of Halloween at the time. We go door to door, say some odd little phrase, and the residents must give us free candy or else we would do mean things to them? That’s how my aunt explained the phrase “trick or treat” to me. Give us a treat or we’ll play a trick on you, we threaten. I received a tutorial on how to say these magical candy-producing words, and we started our trek around the neighborhood.

I do not like Halloween. People in America are mean! They run out of bushes and chase you around their yard, roaring and growling at you. This is not worth the meager bits of candy that we received, which we weren’t allowed to eat anyway because our parents threw away everything that wasn’t in a sealed wrapper for fear that we’d eat poison or hidden razor blades. And what’s up with people handing out 5 pennies taped together in a makeshift roll? The hell were we gonna do with those?!

Guten morgen! Bitte sehen sie 10-11-05 entry, Oktoberfest. Danke! (Rest mouse pointer over photos for captions.)

Group shots (of just the early arrivers):

The Oompa band:

The ostentatious octagenarians:

Those of you looking for photos of Mr. W, sorry. I’m respecting his anonymity. But here are some wacky photos of ME!

Doesn’t this just LOOK like a disaster waiting to happen? The boulder may as well have “ACME” printed on it:

Enjoying the view…

And what view am I enjoying?

My phallic shot:

Mr. W’s pretty and pristine shot:

Of course I climbed this after the photo was taken.

Another photo of me in contemplation.

We hit the gym twice as usual. Because it had rained late morning and the outdoor activities had to be canceled, the resort activities directors came up with new activities that can be done indoors, such as table tennis and making friendship bracelets (remember the 80’s?). Brian, one of the directors, was inside doing his friendship bracelet thing and at his prompting, Diana walked around the table to join him. This was when she brushed her knee against a protruding staple at the edge of the table and ended up with 4-inch long scratch. The ensuing whimpering resulted in the appearance of the resort nurse, a lifeguard, and Fredy (one of the activities directors) all with huge first-aid kits in hand. I wonder if this is first-class service or whether the boys just ran all over themselves at Diana’s bidding. (Hint: it’s not the former.)

In the afternoon, we got our second spa treatment, called the Mayan Treatment (scrub, rinse, body mud, wrap, facial/scalp massage, rinse, lotion). Diana’s experience was great, and she was all aglow and happy. My treatment woman was weird. She didn’t leave the room when I had to get naked or shower like she was supposed to, she kept complimenting me on how beautiful my eyes were, she giggled a lot for no reason I could discern, and she gave me a 50 min treatment not realizing it was supposed to be 85. When the last thing was brought to her attention, all she could do to supplement the time lost was give me a 35 minute massage, which she didn’t give me the full time of because she didn’t make up for the time spent on clearing up the (her) confusion with the front desk person.

In the evening, Diana changed her mind about going out on the town with me because she wanted to stay behind and play volleyball with the boys. So I went out alone. I wandered around, got some great photos, got lost (what else is new?), went souvenir shopping, discovered a great mall and spent 30 pesos at their internet kiosk only to learn that Mike’s server is down so that I couldn’t even blog (I know, I’m a loser, but I wanted to say hi to you guys and touch base from Cancun!), sent a couple of emails, and wandered back to the resort at like 8:30pm. Diana was worried as I knew she would be since it took way longer than I had expected to find my way back to Dreams Resort. There was a detailed note on my bed about where she was going to be, even tho I did run into her just outside the entryway into our rooms building.

I’m playing with Jusspress.com’s features for webhosting photos. I can’t control the size of the photos, but that does take the pain-in-the-arse resizing step out of my photo postings. These photos are for the post entitled Cancun by Days: Wednesday 9-28-05 posted on 10-6-05. You can still sit your mouse over the photo for the caption.

More info on Chichen Itza

I left the group and took this photo as the crazy tourguide was rambling on and on.

Speaking of the crazy tourguide…

Getting ready to climb the pyramid (91 steps).

Even tho Diana wouldn’t venture out far from the “safety” of the wall, this is proof that she did suck up her fear of heights and was really at the top of the pyramid.

The view from the top was spectacular:

I hopped down real quick (mainly to avoid the slowpokes clinging onto the rope while descending on their asses at the speed of .00065 miles per day) to take a photo of Diana’s triumphant descent.

My favorite structure at the central quad is the Temple of a Thousand Columns:

I got in trouble for this pose. Apparently the rusty sign has some hidden symbol that allegedly translates to “do not climb.” *shrug*

Detail on a structural wall:

Dreams resort provides myriad activities per hour throughout the day we can enjoy on its expansive private grounds. This day, our 9am hour was spent on yoga (Diana’s first time!) under a white gazebo, located on a protruding cliff called Punta Cancun, surrounded by water. This is absolutely the fantasy yoga spot. Unbelievably blue sky clustered with white cloud puffs hanging over a turquoise and emerald striped ocean. Iguanas sunning themselves on rocks around us. Beach view to the right. Cliff and greens view to the left. The sound of waves crashing lulling us into serenity.

After yoga, we actually did water aerobics at the urging of the resort program directors whom Diana befriended, as you’ll see in the photo of the cocktail class we took at 2pm. Water aerobics concluded with me having to kiss and be kissed by 2 women, whereas Diana did the same with the 2 men you see in the cocktail photo.

Diana (who got “volunteered” to do a cocktail demo by the guys) named her cocktail “Cindy’s Favorite Drink,” but I think it should’ve been called something like a Latin-Asian Sandwich.

After a little bit of sand volleyball and our classes, we had lots of beach time again. I fell asleep on my lounger and when I woke up (to Diana pouring bottled water down my back), I told her I have no idea what time it was or how long I’d slept. She said, “That’s the beauty of it. You don’t need to know.”

For dinner, we met the “anything waiter” at the resort’s Seaside Grille. We got kissed by this waiter (who tried to take us out salsa dancing but we opted to go back to our room to rest up for our excursion the next morning) and another random waiter who clearly had a huge crush on Diana. More on that in a later entry. On the walk back to the room after dinner, we lounged outside at the private “club-side” beach until we got chased back to our rooms by mosquitos.
The “club” is a more exclusive, VIP guest area with its own private lounge and infinity pool facing the gazebo.