Olvera Street

Olvera Street is home to the oldest neighborhood in Los Angeles. Or at least, the oldest house. I know, cuz I saw it and a sign told me so. It's a short half-block walk from the Union Station train stop. It's filled with kiosks selling over-priced "authentic" souvenirs and over-priced restaurants. Though I don't doubt for one moment that the food is delicious, we didn't stop to eat there. We just wandered down the sidewalk and took in the sights and sounds. And oh yes, the smells.

Two musicians warming up for a performance later.

The view of the cathedral from under some kiosks.

The walkway to get into the oldest house.

The view through a grape arbor.

More grapes.

The flourishing bougainvillea mocks me.

 

Beautiful tree. 

Speaking of trees, how many children had to die to make this one?

Red-throated Bird of Paradise

cimblog(tm) took a fun little excursion last weekend. We bought some Metro tickets and took the train downtown. Our goal was to do a little exploring and take some pictures. There's always adventure just around the next corner - you just have to be willing to go TO the corner to find it. It's easy to forget, living in the suburbs, how much is at the corner and beyond. It's easy to sit and feel safe where you are, wanting for nothing.

One of the pictures I snapped that I'm so very pleased with was right outside Union Station train station. There was a little hummingbird flitting and zipping in and out of the plants and  flowers. He stopped twice - once to allow me to see where he was and notice that he was of the red-throated variety, and the second time long enough for me to capture him. I love how he is mirroring the plant.


 

Memory Lane

A Facebook friend of mine posted about a location in my hometown that she was visiting. It sounded familiar, but I couldn't immediately place where it was. I looked on Google Maps, and then got lost. In my very hometown. Not lost like, "I don't know where I am and can't navigate my way out of a wet paper bag!" but lost like, "Wow. I wonder what THAT looks like now? I wonder if I can find my friend's house now?"

It was a virtual reality adventure. I found my first elementary school, but not the second - it's been torn down and/or repurposed. I found my house and neighborhood (not a lot has changed); I found the ward building; a park where I spent a lot of time playing; friends' houses; and even the lake. Yes, my home town has a lake. It's probably more of a pond, but we called it a lake, so a lake it shall be. The road leading to it is even called "Lakeside Drive," so it must be a lake. Otherwise it would be called "Pondside Drive."

Wandering my little virtual Jane avatar on those hilly streets, I found the house where I spent quite a bit of time in my childhood. Two of my older sisters did some babysitting for a family that had four boys - the oldest two were twins and just two days younger than me. I frequently accompanied my sisters on those gigs. (I hope it was easy for them to have someone there to play with the boys.) They lived in what I thought of as a magical house at the top of a hill with a steep driveway. There were toys that I didn't have and for a tomboy, it was paradise to have access to all those boys' toys - Legos, Lincoln Logs, toy guns...and I don't know what all else. The back of the house jutted up against a hill, providing an endless playground for children with active imaginations. We dug tunnels, played cowboys and Indians or cops and robbers - whatever struck us on any given day.

The twins got 10-speed bicycles for Christmas one year. The boys were down the street (down the driveway, and DOWN the hilly street) playing with some other friends one day when my sisters were babysitting. It was time for lunch, and I was sent to fetch them. I figured it would be quicker to ride than walk, so I hopped on one of those bikes and took off.

The twins were identical, and the bicycles nearly were as well. There were a few minor differences though, that I didn't find out until halfway down the very steep driveway. I had unwittingly chosen the bike that didn't have working brakes. I was going too fast to be able to hop off without causing damage to both of us, so I held on, steering the best I could and tried to avoid hitting any parked cars. At the bottom of the driveway the street flattened out to the right, or continued downhill to the house where the twins were playing. I hung on and kept going down the street.

In another several yards there was a cul-de-sac, or a one-way roundabout/circle. The middle of it was grassy with a huge tree in it, with houses ringing the outside of it. I saw this as my best chance for stopping. I was also probably going too fast to really have any other choice.

I started into the circle, and then just...laid down the bike. It went skidding under a parked car, and I splatted and fell the other way. This all happened right in front of the house that was my original destination, so it worked perfectly. The twins and their friend came running out to see what the racket was, immediately sussed what had happened and said, "You brought Richard's bike, huh? The brakes don't work."

I was a bit scratched and bruised, but those were easily forgotten as my coolness level had just risen substantially in the boys' eyes. We all walked back up the hill chatting excitedly about what I had just accomplished. I like to think they were actually a bit jealous. Here are the pictures I found on Google maps. I'm pleased to say that it really is still just as steep as I remember.

The driveway. See how steep it is? 

This is at the bottom of the driveway looking down the street.

More hilly street.

The choice - turn right into no-man's land, or keep going straight into the circle.

The cul-de-sac.

The house with the picket fence is the one I crashed in front of. The bike and I were ultimately both okay.

Looking back up the street towards where it all started.

Thursday Mountains

I went running yesterday. No, that's not news. I go running a lot of days. I annoyingly wake up even before my alarm goes off and have the daily mental argument with myself about getting up, pulling on shorts, putting on a bra, cramming my bed hair into a cap and hitting the road. The road wins every day. Not Mondays, though. On Mondays I can justify that since I'll be in spin class that night I don't have to go running that morning. That thought never brings comfort in the form of sleep. Just comfort in the form of not having to go running.

My friend Amy has started going with me two days a week. She was my walking buddy on Tuesday nights. Now she's my running buddy on Wednesdays and Fridays. She graciously drives to my house since I have a route in my neighborhood that I know and trust. Since she's just getting back into running after a multi-year hiatus, she lets me choose the running route. Even though we're on my turf, she sets the pace. I believe in not only running faster than you have strength, but also in not running faster than your running buddy. It defeats the purpose. I also know that pretty soon she'll be out-pacing me, and I'll have to keep up with HER, which will be good for me. So for now, I'm content to walk when she needs to, or set a goal to "run to the next tree," and in-between, we talk about....whatever occurs to us. Stream of consciousness running-buddy conversation.

Yesterday was Thursday. I had no running buddy to text me telling me she would meet me in 15 minutes. But the road won the argument ... again. I rolled out of bed and pulled on my running clothes, already set out the night before (I know the road always wins). Brushed my teeth, ate some grapes, caught up on Words with Friends while waiting for the grapes to get past my esophagus, and hit the road.

With no running buddy, I felt no need to do a pre-set route. I decided to try some hill training. They say (the running powers that be) that running hills is a good way to improve your overall speed when you run a race. What the heck - I need all the help I can get. I started running uphill. (Ironically enough, one of the hills I did went past Amy's house.) Now I'm running in a different direction than I usually do, and on different roads, so I have to pay more attention. I can't just schlub my way through the streets. I have to breathe, concentrate, set goals: "I can make it to that lamppost then walk for 20 yards to catch my breath."

During one moment as I'm not too terribly oxygen deprived, I think about how temples are always on the top of hills or mountains. Even before the actual edifice of a temple existed, the prophets would go to the top of a mountain to receive revelation. Moses went to Sinai and Horeb - good stuff happened in those places. Nephi learned how to build a boat while he was on a mountain. Getting to the tops of those mountains couldn't have been easy. They didn't have Jeeps. They didn't have cushy running shoes or hiking boots to protect ankles and feet. They wore sandals. Sandals with lots of spaces for rocks and pebbles to get into. Their feet must have been plenty calloused. We don't really hear about their journey to the top of the mountain; just what happens once they get there. But it couldn't have been fun. They probably had their fair share of internal dialogue running through their minds. "First my bow breaks, now this. It's just not enough, is it? Everyone griping at me about not having enough food, but I don't see THEM going to the mountain."

On second thought, I'm probably projecting. Nephi wouldn't have had those types of thoughts....would he? (See 2 Nephi 4 for an answer to this - let me know what you think.)

Running uphill isn't easy. You're working against gravity. Working against yourself. Your body complains, wonders, "What did I do to deserve this? Wasn't I good to you yesterday? We ate, we laughed, we hung out, and you do THIS to me?"

There are a lot of gospel principles and life lessons to be learned from running uphill. Getting to places to commune with God isn't easy. It's a struggle. You work against opposition (gravity)and you think, "What was wrong with those flat roads down there? I was happy there. I was still running and exercising and getting all those benefits, but now I have to WORK and it's uncomfortable and I don't like it."

Then you get to the top. You can hardly believe it - but the road has leveled out, and you can stand up straight again and BREATHE. Blessed oxygen flows through your lungs and you feel human again.

You breathe again, look around and ... Wow. The sun isn't quite up yet, but the clouds are tinged with a golden pink glow. Beautiful. Breathe again, listen to the birds talking to each other. Breathe again, and there's the hint that summer's almost over as the cool air fills your lungs.

Breathe again, and...thank you, Heavenly Father, for putting me on this earth to enjoy this sunrise, this body, these lungs, this beating heart, this beautiful view, and even the sweat dripping down my face.

Look at that view! I may not know what the day holds for me - what obstacles I may face, challenges I get to overcome, but the experience of overcoming THIS challenge, climbing THIS hill tells me that I can handle whatever else may come my way today.

Perspective is more easily gained from a higher vantage point. Inspiration comes after the climb.

The Capital Capitol

This weekend I took a quick and almost impromptu quick ("almost" because I only planned it a week prior) trip to Sacramento. A friend of mine is on the lecture circuit as a presenter for a women's conference put on by a book publishing company. How it all came about (my attendance there and going to see this friend) was a whirlwind and all the pieces fell into place in such a way that confirmed that's what I needed to be doing and where I needed to be. That's a story for another day and another entry.

This is about Sacramento. The hotel I stayed at was across the street from the convention center - the venue I'd be attending on Saturday, and both were about three or four blocks from Capitol park - where the state capitol building is. I went for a run on Saturday morning - partly for the exercise, partly to scope out the mall I'd be meeting yet another friend at for dinner, and partly because I wanted to see the capitol and the grounds.

The building and grounds is a California state park. It sits on 40 acres of land, and even in the dim pre-dawn light, it was beautiful.

The capitol building is framed by two other buildings. I loved the motto above each one. (Not sure why the flags were flying at half mast.)

At first I thought that's all there was, but as I continued with my run, I found the rest of the grounds. There were a lot of beautiful plants and trees, each labeled with its name and native location. Then I saw a statue of some firemen, and I paused for a closer look. It was a memorial for firefighters in California who have died on the job. It was beautiful.

Then I found the Vietnam memorial - all solders from California, listed by city and including their rank and age, who died or are still missing in action during the Vietnam conflict. Even with music still playing in my headphones for my run, I was deeply moved. I looked for both of my hometowns - Burbank and Walnut Creek, to see if there were any names I recognized.

My sweat mingled with tears - a small salt water offering for those who have given their lives - the ultimate sacrifice - for my freedom or that of others. Most heartbreaking, perhaps, is the names of those still missing in action. Any war or "conflict," in any cause, on any soil, is heartbreaking, regardless of cause. I am glad I had the opportunity to pause and reflect on blessings of freedom before continuing on in my own little galaxy of first-world problems.

Olympics Stories NBC Isn't Showing You, Part 3

Did you know that under certain conditions, it is possible to compete independently in the Olympics? Three athletes came to the Olympics under the Olympic flag, otherwise known as Independent Olympic Athletes. They come from South Sudan and Netherlands Antilles.

One of them, Guor Marial, is a marathon runner born in South Sudan. Guor fled to the United States from Sudan at the age of eight after 28 members of his family were killed by the Sudanese government. He cannot compete for the newly formed South Sudan as it does not have a National Olympic Committee and is not yet a ratified Olympic state.

He cannot compete for the USA since he doesn't possess an American passport. For obvious reasons, he rejected Sudan's invitation to compete for them. (I wouldn't want anything to do with the government responsible for wiping out so many members of my family.)

The men's marathon will take place on August 12.

If I Were In Charge...

I've been saying a lot of things about the NBC coverage to the United States of the 2012 Summer Olympics Games, none very positive.Lest any of my (four) readers think that I'm being a negative Nelly, here are some of my reasons for not being complimentary:

1. Coverage primarily of only events featuring competitors from the United States. Show us sports that we don't get to see, with competitors we don't already know. This is a world-wide stage with people from...you guessed it! All over the world. Let's see some of them.

2. Ad nauseum coverage of beach volleyball, especially Misty May-Treanor and her partner. 

3. Ad nauseum coverage of swimming, especially Michael Phelps. I get that he has now claimed the title of "most decorated Olympian athlete ever," but that's really an unfair comparison for any of the other athletes. A person playing team volleyball, for example, has exactly one chance to win a medal every four years. Phelps competes in every event he can, and so the odds are more in his favor than for the majority of the other athletes.

4. Ad nauseum coverage of Missy Franklin, another swimmer. Sure she's young, and it's amazing she's able to win as much as she as. But I'm tired of hearing about her size 13 feet and that she can out-eat Michael Phelps.

5. The inane questions that the on-the-scene "reporters" such as Lewis Johnson and Andrea whats-her-face (the NBC website is frustratingly silent on the name of its reporters) ask athletes as they're coming out of the pool or off the track. "How do you feel now that you've qualified for the next event?" That's a big no-no straight out of Basic Reporting Skills 101. Don't ask obvious questions.

6. Ryan Seacrest. Really???? Ryan Freakin' Seacrest. And he has added nothing of value unless I want to know what people are tweeting about. (I do not, in case you were wondering.)

7. Mary Carillo. I actually really like Mary Carillo. She is a former pro tennis player. She is witty and intelligent, and the poor thing always has to play second fiddle to Bob Costas. (Bob Freakin' Costas, for the record.) She gets stuck with stories like, "What does latitude and longitude mean and what is Greenwich mean time?" That might be interesting if it had anything whatsoever to do with the Olympics. (It does not.)

8. NBC (male) commentators' persistent usage of the word "girls" when referring to women athletes. "The girls are doing a great job..." or whatever. I have not seen any event titled "Girls' Gymnastics," "Girls' Cycling," or "Girls' Basketball." All those sports for that particular gender are appropriately prefixed with "Women's"  for a very good reason. They are all, shockingly enough, women. And you can bet that if a woman announcer referred to men's basketball as "Boys' Basketball," some man somewhere would get his panties in a bunch.

9. Their annoying habit of saving the popular events until after 10 p.m. I'm usually toast by that time, with thoughts of sugarplum fairies dancing in my head. To be forced to wait to watch gymnastics, or the next world record potentially being broken in track - all for the sake of ratings - is ridiculous. It's not like any other networks are really going up against them to try and compete for an audience share. It's the OLYMPICS. It comes around once every FOUR YEARS. Show us the good stuff, let us go to bed.

10. Padding. Padding. Padding. Too many human-interest stories that are less about being interesting and humans and more about giving some fluff-head intern something to do.

11. Not knowing any results about anything. I learn more about the day's medal count and other countries' accomplishments from the Coke and Dodge commercials than I do from NBC.

12. The non-stop blathering on about the 1996 women's USA gymnastics team. I agree that revisiting those moments is good....once. But I've seen more coverage of Keri Strug this year than I did in 1996.

I'm not the only person who is less than charmed by NBC this year. Guy Adams works as a writer for The Independent, a national newspaper in Great Britain. He lives in Los Angeles. Throughout the Olympics, he's taken to Twitter and ripped NBC repeatedly for its coverage of the Games in America.

Namely, he's criticized the network's reliance on using tape delays, a frustration shared by millions of viewers. He actually had the audacity to suggest that other unhappy viewers should email the president of NBC. And Twitter, unbelievably enough, canceled his Twitter account. 


The argument could be made that NBC is doing what it is doing simply from a business perspective.It is a business out to make money, after all. And one could also argue, as NBC did, that viewership is up, so something must be working. (NBC said  that a record 28.7 million US viewers watched its primetime coverage on Saturday’s first day of competition. NBC said Saturday’s evening audience was 2 million more than watched the first day of competition during the Atlanta Olympics in 1996. An average 12.3 million US viewers watched the Olympics on television on Saturday morning – a 56 per cent increase over the Saturday daytime audience for Beijing in 2008, the network said.)

Pshaw, I say. Viewership is up because there are...wait for it....more of us. We also have no other recourse than watching NBC since NBC has paid 1.18 billion dollars for the exclusive rights to broadcast the London Games. It has won, in return $1 billion in advertising, so it may break even. 


Newsflash, NBC (you do remember what those are, right?): Make a few changes, make some more money, earn some more viewer loyalty. And with an DVR being in many American households, I prefer to start watching my primetime coverage well into the evening so I can fast forward through the fluff pieces and commercials. Winner? Me. Your advertisers aren't really getting that much out of it after all, are they?