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Lunch at Saturn Cafe-Santa Cruz

By Rhea H. Boyden

‘Before we sit down for lunch I need to use the restroom,’ I told my dad’s old high school friend who was toting his guitar into the restaurant with him. ‘They are right there’ he pointed towards two doors. ‘Um, which one is for the ladies?’ I asked him with a smile. One door said aliens on it and the other said robots. ‘You can use either one’ he said, ‘They are unisex. Twenty years ago the toilet doors were even more confusing as to which gender they were designated for’, he laughed. ‘Back then, one door said enlightened morons on it and the other said fanatic realists.’

When I joined my family and old friends back at our table in the café 5 minutes later they were already playing guitar and singing an old Beach Boys song. The rest of the customers and the wait staff were singing along and smiling too. ‘This is so California’ I thought to myself. When I opened the menu the first item my eyes fell on was ‘spacadillas’ which of course is a play on the word quesadilla. Saturn Café, in downtown Santa Cruz, has a Jetsons like space décor and round lamps with rings around them to resemble Saturn. It is truly a delightful space to dine in. Funky artwork adorns the walls, the building is round with American style diner booths artfully crafted to fit the building’s shape.

The food is exquisite. It is all vegetarian using locally sourced organic produce. The owners are dedicated to sustainability and serving happy people healthy soul food. They have kept apace with the growing demand for a healthy twist on American comfort food. Their vegetarian burger is a big hit and they cook their fries in trans-fat free oil that then gets turned into bio fuel. They have won numerous awards for their excellent food which includes organic soups, healthy scrumptious salads, vegan milkshakes and delicious breakfast burritos. I dined on the most fantastic fresh tomato soup with dill, perfectly ripe avocadoes and freshly squeezed lemonade. And one refreshingly pleasing aspect was that the portions were not enormous, which is the case in so many American restaurants. If you are dedicated to sustainability in American dining, the first easy step you can take as a restaurant owner is to half the portion size!! (I don’t usually use exclamation points in my writing as I know it is bad style, but I think a couple are necessary here).

Perfectly sated and happy, We headed to the sunny beach with the guitar to digest our delicious meal in the warm breeze and while watching the waves crash the coast we all sang along to old Beatles songs. A perfect Santa Cruz afternoon, and a happy reunion of friends and family.

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Categories Restaurant Reviews and Food, Travel

A Walk in the Woods

10 Apr

by Rhea H. Boyden

I have been spending the past couple weeks at my mother’s lovely house in the Santa Cruz mountains, which is a fabulous predominantly second growth redwood rolling mountain range. We are nestled at the top of a canyon about 10 miles uphill from the beach and the city of Santa Cruz. The Santa Cruz mountains are a fabulous rural range that are easily accessible from the densely populated San Francisco Bay area, so we are very blessed here to have such backwoods beauty so close to a metropolitan area.

My mother, stepdad, sister and a friend and I set off on a 5 mile hike through the woods and down the canyon. The ecological diversity encountered along the way was a special treat especially for a city dweller like myself. Most of the redwood forest around here are 100 year old second growth redwood or sequoia trees, as they are also known, as large tracts of the 1 to 2,000 year old redwoods were initially clear cut to build the city of San Francisco when gold was first discovered in 1848 and the gold rush began, exploding population and economic growth. The redwoods were known as ‘red gold’ and there was clear cutting across the mountains. Many more were cut to rebuild large parts of San Francisco after destruction by fire following the 1906 earthquake.

San Francisco Earthquake 1906 Photo by George Haley

We took a trail into the woods and apart from the redwoods there are some other deciduous trees, live oaks and a red barked tree known as a madrone. I wore long jogging pants tucked into my socks as I know very well how allergic I am to poison oak which grows here everywhere. If you get the oils of the oak on your skin you can break out in a horrible itchy, pusy rash that you are not allowed to scratch even though it itches like crazy and causes extreme discomfort. When I was 17 visiting my grandparents here in California I got a horrible dose of poison oak all over my face and it swelled up and my eyes swelled shut. I spent Christmas day at the emergency room getting treated for it. It is truly horrible and I fear poison oak more than the Pacific rattlesnake who rarely shows his face here.

Because the climate is so mild here year round there is not the changing climate to support great bug and insect growth which is of course nice for us humans so that we are not eaten alive, but it also means that there are not many birds in these parts as they need insects to survive. We saw the occasional hawk circling overhead and heard the caw of a raven, but this is not a place for bird watching enthusiasts. Other parts of the U.S. are far more ideal for that. One strange creature that lives in these woods is the huge banana slug which I have not had the pleasure of seeing. It is the largest land slug in North America and is the mascot of UC Santa Cruz which I find very amusing.

Photo of Banana Slug by Jim Whitehead

The Santa Cruz Mountains are the perfect habitat for bears as they do not need to hibernate here, but there are very few bears in these parts. There is a scant population of black bears who keep themselves well hidden. It is presumed, interestingly that the bear population will increase here in future. Grizzly bears roamed the virgin forests here over a hundred years ago. Huge terrifying bears wandering between 1,000 year old trees, one can only imagine how different it was. The last grizzly bear was sighted in the Santa Cruz mountains in 1885. The bear made the mistake of stealing a 300 pound hog that a local rancher was fattening to sell at the fair so the rancher shot him. The bear weighed 642 pounds. One animal that does thrive in the mountains is the mountain lion. It loves the mild climate and does well here.

Mountain lions are rarely spotted by humans, but their tracks are to be seen frequently. We hiked down to a stunning waterfall which is surrounded by lychen covered rocks. I swim in the cold pool at my mom’s house and I like cold water, but the waterfall is at least 12 degrees colder so I preferred to just look at it. My sister and friend took the plunge and jumped in screaming at the cold as they did. From our vantage point they looked like two beautiful water nymphs in a classical painting. They reminded me of the William Bourgereau painting ‘Satyr and the Nymphs’ from which I got the inspiration for one of my poems. I felt it was my poem coming to life.

Coyote by Christopher Bruno

We then hiked out of the canyon and woods, which sadly still bear the scars of clear cutting if you look closely, and we entered a prairie which was dotted with live oaks, California poppies the colour of the sunset, (the State flower of California) and lovely purple lupins. We did not encounter any other animals on our day time hike, but I saw a bobcat lurking across the field the other evening and I was enchanted by it. And in the early morning mist when you hear the wild turkeys gobbling, you can run outside and catch a glimpse of the flock of six strutting across the field. They make me smile. I haven’t heard any coyotes here yet, but I have been told that they howl like banshees and I am not sure whether I really want to hear them late at night from my bed in the violin workshop where I am sleeping or if it is a pleasure I can do without.

Fog in the Santa Cruz Mountains by Elin Ruby

There used to be a lot of foxes in these mountains, but the coyotes have either scared them away or eaten them. Coyotes are not herbivores. Deer, of course, are everywhere here. And you see them frequently. I hear them walking around outside at night, but I just try and ignore them as they are pretty harmless, even though it is a little spooky hearing footsteps outside your door at night. We eventually walked back into the woods off the prairie and walked the last mile or so back to the house which is such a nice place to return too. The pond at the my mom’s is filled with koi and goldfish, and the Pacific tree frogs make an awful racket at night, but they are somewhat amusing too. We see lizards scurrying around the place and the garden has dogwood, azalea, crab apple, wisteria, lilies, sycamore and lots of other lovely plants. It is a truly lovely place to spend a few weeks out of the city.

Tags: Banana Slug, Redwoods, San Francisco, Santa Cruz

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Categories Travel

Excursion to Mies Van der Rohe House

6 Feb

By Rhea H. Boyden

Last Sunday afternoon, after having willingly spent the weekend in complete solitude reading, I set off on a guidebook writing assignment to the Mies Van der Rohe House which is in the former East Berlin district of Weissensee. As I walked down my street, feeling rather lonely and despondent on this cold, grey February day, the first thing I noticed was that yet another building on my street had been recently renovated to its core. A large sign was advertising swank new apartments for sale. A not unfamiliar surge of fear welled up within me. How much longer am I going to be able to afford to live in this gentrified neighbourhood on my relatively meager freelance income? I wondered to myself. As I rode the tram through the greyer, drabber areas of East Berlin, ever further away from the neighbourhood I call home, the fear of having to move out here made me feel even more lonely. If I had to leave my current environment that I am so comfortable in, would it affect my work and my well-being? Very likely, I concluded. I very definitely thrive in my crazy, colourful, centrally located bohemian flat, and I really could not see myself living in a highrise flat in Weissensee. Am I being a snob? I don’t think so. I am already living in a foreign country which brings hardships and homesickness enough with it, but I am at least still in the neighbourhood that my mother and sisters lived in from 1990-2001 which has subsequently become my home away from home. This is very comforting. When I finally arrived at the Van der Rohe House and entered the front door, my spirits lifted instantly. Suddenly, I was in a motivated and inspired work mode again. The atmosphere of the house was an excellent environment for research, reading and contemplation. I sat at the one table in the gallery and started reading about Van der Rohe’s philosophy on architecture. This simple L-shaped house on the shore of the Obersee was Van der Rohe’s last project in Germany before he reluctantly emigrated to the United States in 1937. He was the last director of the Bauhaus school which the Nazis deemed as ‘ungerman’ and it was forced to close down in 1933. His quest was one of simplicity and truth in architecture. Indeed, the house demonstrates his genius in using a minimum of materials to produce maximum quality in order to satisfy the needs of modern living. His intention was the eradication of the superficial and unnecessary in architecture. Sound choice of materials and structure, rather than the superficial application of a classical façade were ideas that shaped his philosophy. The house was built in 1932 for Karl and Martha Lemke who owned a graphic arts firm and printing company. After much protest from the neighbours, who did not like the design, the simple, one-storied, flat-roofed building with its brick facade was constructed. It has huge plate glass windows that overlook a terrace and a well-landscaped lawn and garden. The terrace is at exactly the same level as the indoor rooms and so appears to be an extension of the house itself. This is very deliberate, as Van der Rohe strove to harmonise nature and architecture. The terrace and the garden serve as a wonderful extension of and transition between the house, lake and the park beyond the garden’s boundaries. The Lemke’s lived in the house until the Red Army forced them to vacate it in 1945. The Red Army and, subsequently the Stasi, all thumbed their noses at any notion that the building was aesthetically pleasing or should be respected. Between 1945 and 1977 it was used as a garage, storage room, canteen and laundry room and it fell quite into disrepair. Eventually in 1977 it was listed as an historic building and between 2000 and 2002 it was finally renovated and refurbished to its former beauty. It is now empty of furniture and used to display works of modern art. The works which are exhibited in the house must match Mies Van der Rohe’s dictum of ‘less is more’ and must also strive to express truth, beauty, serenity and harmony of nature, architecture and art. One of the artists who has exhibited her work in the house, is an American woman from Kansas named Max Cole. As soon as I started reading about her I was amazed at the coincidences that were made apparent to me. She says that her artwork is very influenced by her environment. The flat and vast horizons of the Kansas plains lead to the horizontal bands and stripes in her artwork. She says that a simple dash or a stripe can signify the individual in his or her world. I again thought about how my environment affects my work and my writing, and I thought of my loneliness and solitude in the world. Writing is a lonely pursuit in many ways, but it is also one that has saved me after a decadent decade of alcohol and parties in Berlin. In my writing, I also search for truth, beauty, serenity and a way of connecting to the world. Is this not the goal of any art form, be it music, art, writing, poetry or architecture? These all provide a medium for connecting and expressing truth and beauty to our fellow human beings. The buildings we live and work in, and the nature we roam and grow up in clearly all have a profound effect on our well-being and our work. I have only begun to realize as I mature, how the building that houses an artwork is as important as the artwork itself. Both must be in harmony, that is clear. I have come to hold art curators in high regard for their all-encompassing vision when planning an exhibition. I have recently been reading a lot about and by the American author and social critic David Foster Wallace. As well as being a brilliant writer who wrote the crystal clear and unapologetic truth about how he viewed society, he was also an excellent tennis player and mathematician, and he especially excelled at geometry. He, like Max Cole, lived in a very horizontal America and he was influenced by the sharp right angles of the flat streets of his Illinois hometown. In his novel ‘The Pale King’ David Foster Wallace describes life inside a huge IRS Tax building. The building is described as being ‘battleship grey’ and the lamps on the examiners desks are annoyingly placed right there where a right-handed person would need to place his elbow to take notes. The heavily made up secretary who sits there all day with hollow eyes is described aptly as looking like ‘an embalmed clown’. The people in this building must have about the most boring and life- sapping job in the United States and there is no mention of any artwork adorning the walls. Their job is to look at tax returns and decide whether an audit is necessary, no more than that. The building they are in is designed precisely for this purpose, and they are not encouraged to think outside this box or be creative in any way. There is, then, naturally absolutely no need to make this building aesthetically pleasing. Any attempt at beauty would indeed, likely be counterproductive. Sitting back in my colourful, cluttered living room, I am spending a lot of time thinking about the Van der Rohe Haus and especially some of Max Cole’s quotes. ‘The goal is clarity’ she said. Or: ‘Art is exploring universal questions’. ‘You cannot possibly speak the truth’ she claims ‘unless you have made some attempt to understand what the truth is and without being honest you just have decoration’. Indeed, the whole exhibition program in the Van der Rohe House uses architecture as its starting point and the works exhibited therein rely on reduced and concentrated forms of expression. They must be minimal. Less is more. Many of van der Rohe’s ideas ring especially clear as a good metaphor and building block for my own life at present. I have successfully shed negative influences in my life the past year using writing as a tool in my search for the truth. Just as Van der Rohe shed superficial facades from his buildings, I have shed the superficial façade that was heavy drinking. I have also shed superficial relationships and am becoming better at being alone and not feeling lonely. I just recently put all my effort into finally getting to the core of truthful issues with a man I had had a somewhat superficial chat with online for many months. I had hoped for more from him, but he was unable to reciprocate it. I am happy with how the whole issue was resolved, however, as I cut to the core and spoke the necessary truth and he responded in kind. It has proven to be absolutely liberating for me. My research at the Van der Rohe Haus has affirmed my beliefs, and I will continue to search for truth, beauty and core ideas in my writing, and I intend to encompass and include the surrounding architecture, art, ideas and conversations that lead to new adventures and stories daily. It is all a magical adventure and I never know where it leads.

Image is the Bauhaus Signet courtesy of Bauhaus Archive

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Categories Art, Travel

Excursion to Brecht Weigel House

23 Jan

By Rhea H. Boyden
Firs
In the early hours
The fir trees are copper
That’s how I saw them
Half a century ago
Two world wars ago
With young eyes.
-Bertolt Brecht
Buckower Elegies, 1953

The third weekend in January is generally deemed to be one of the most depressing weekends of the year with motivation and energy levels at an all time low. Your couch is the most comfortable place to wallow with a bag of sweets or a cup of hot chocolate, and you may also be feeling guilty that you have, within 3 weeks of making all those wonderful new year’s resolutions, forgotten and broken them all. I have spent many a third January weekend in this state, but this year was different. The magazine I am writing for had sent me on an assignment to write a page for a new Berlin guidebook, so I cheerily got out of bed early on Saturday morning to go culture chasing.
The assignment was to take a two-hour train and bus ride to the Spa town of Buckow to go visit the summer home of the German poet and playwright Bertolt Brecht and his Austrian actor wife Helene Weigel. ‘The garden obviously won’t be looking the best this time of year’ said the guy I am writing for, ‘but I am sure it will be worth the trip anyway’ he assured.
I packed a nice breakfast of fruit and a sandwich, grabbed a hot cup of coffee and hopped on the subway, happy and proud to be chosen for this assignment. Two hours later, after a subway, regional train, and then a bus ride through the snowy woods, a few other brave souls and I arrived at the deserted marketplace of Buckow which has a scant population of 1,500, none of whom were showing their faces on this cold January day.
Buckow is located on the fabulous Schermuetzel Lake and is the seat of the municipal association of the beautiful, hilly and forested region not far from the Polish border known as Maerkische Schweiz. Since 1990, the entire region has been protected as a nature park. It is a popular Spa town in summer and its spa resort follows the philosophy of the Bavarian priest Sebastian Kneipp born in 1821, who was a proponent of hydrotherapy and herbalism. Kneipp used his ‘Water Cure’ to treat all kinds of ailments. He promoted good nutrition, exercise and spirituality as the basis of a good life. Buckow is the home of a Kneipp day-care centre where children are raised and educated according to his principals, eating lots of fresh fruit and vegetables and very little meat. There is also a Kneipp herb garden in the centre of the town.
After stopping to look at an ice-encrusted waterwheel that was still turning in the semi-frozen brook, I followed the signs to the Brecht-Weigel House. After a brisk 20 minute walk past the beautiful villas that overlook the Schermuetzel Lake, I arrived at the gates of the Brecht Weigel House which looked very much deserted. I entered the house and a cheerful lady at reception greeted me and said she had been expecting me. I did not have to probe her much for information as she was extremely knowledgeable and immediately launched into anecdotes and historical facts about the house. We were alone, so happily she could devote all her time to me. ‘Helene Weigel was a fabulous cook’ she informed me, ‘and she loved to treat her guests to her delicacies here. ‘Look, here is a fabulous cook book containing her recipes’. She opened the wonderful cookbook so we could peruse the fabulous dishes. My stomach was now rumbling and I remembered my half
eaten sandwich in my bag that I then pulled out and munched on as the lady filled me with stories.
The house had been built by the sculptor Georg Roch in 1910-11 and the front room is a fabulous bright, 5 metre high studio with a front wall of windows that overlook the garden, a boat dock and the lake. Helene Weigel’s collection of old German furniture from the 18th and 19th century fill the huge room, which she furnished as a salon to entertain guests in summer between 1952 and 1956 when she and Brecht leased the house from the town of Buckow.
Many of Georg Roch’s scultures adorn the walls of the house both inside and out, and there are also more of his ivy-covered sculptures in the garden in the shade of the silver poplar and fir trees.
The salon in the main house was primarily the working space of Weigel, while Brecht withdrew to his simply furnished garden house to work on his plays and poetry. During the summer of 1953 he wrote ‘The Buckower Elegies’ which was his artistic and poetic reaction to the GDR worker’s uprising of June 17th 1953.
Today, the garden house has an exhibit of Helene Weigel’s costumes, and some of the props from the staging of Brecht’s play ‘Mutter Courage’ which was Weigel’s most triumphant role in acting. Weigel was the artistic director of the Berliner Ensemble until her death in 1971 and after Brecht’s death of a heart attack in 1956 she continued to entertain guests from the theatre at the couple’s house in Buckow. The garden house also has much of Brecht’s poetry on its walls.
After purchasing my own copy of ‘The Buckower Elegies’ and saying goodbye to the wonderfully helpful woman, I set off on a walk through the woods and around the lake myself deep in contemplation. After about half an hour, I came across a large elegant restaurant and hotel. I entered and took a seat near the fireplace overlooking the semi-frozen lake upon which the setting January sun was now shining its weak rays. I ordered a coffee and a piece of hot apple strudel with vanilla ice-cream. ‘The apple strudel is made according to Helene Weigel’s recipe’ the waiter claimed proudly as he placed it in front of me. ‘Oh fantastic!’ I responded. I savoured every bite while reading Brecht’s poetry.
Eventually it was time to trek back to the marketplace to get back on the bus and then train back to Berlin. I took a quick walk through the Schlosspark and then had a glance in the doors of the town’s small church. I again encountered the same small group of people who had braved the January weather for a weekend excursion and we all happily boarded the bus together exchanging smiles.
On the journey home, I perused the literature that the cheerful lady had provided me, happy in the knowledge that I was now heading back to Berlin where there was an abundance of Brecht and Weigel’s, work, history, plays and poetry still awaiting me on the stages and in the cultural centres of this fine capital city.

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Categories Travel

The Surprise Christmas Reunion

13 Jan

by Rhea H.Boyden

I am standing very close to my fantasy dream man and we are looking at each other. ‘It would be all warm and wet’ he says with a cheeky grin. ‘Yes it would’ I respond with a coy smile. My imagination is running wild and he looks even better in real life than he looks in his online photos. I can hardly believe that we are here together in the real w…orld and no longer in our online chat world that I built into such a fantasy. The real reason for everything being warm and wet, however, is not some kind of sexual dream we would find ourselves in, but rather a commentary on the possible temperature and composition of the puke that the drunk guy may hurl onto us as he is being escorted past us with great difficulty and out the door of the bar. It is pretty remarkable that we find ourselves practically pinned up against each other within two minutes of my entering the bar. I would love to have his strong arms around me, but this is a dream that will sadly never be fulfilled. Just being in the same space as him and carrying on this conversation is a fantasy I have harboured for months upon months after our extensive online correspondence, so I am quite fixated on him despite the fact that he has already rejected me online after I admitted my feelings for him. The tension between us now leaves me with utter disbelief that my feelings could not be reciprocated. Oh there are worse horrors in the world than unrequited love, but I am currently unable to recall such horrors. When I went out the pub with my brother and some friends that evening, I had a secret hope that I would run into Mister Fantasy Online man now that I was home in our mutual hometown for Christmas, but I did not think that the second I walked into the bar our eyes would lock in surprise and shock and I would be drawn right towards him nervously and, my voice shaking slightly as he and I try to compose ourselves to greet each other. ‘Hi lads, how are you doing?’ I manage to stammer. Thankfully his drinking buddy for the evening was another of my old classmates who I also got on well with back in the day. ‘I saw your article in the magazine’ my fantasy man informs me. ‘Oh, did you see that?’ I respond. ‘I was very happy it made cover story’. I am of course very happy too that he went to the trouble to get a copy of the magazine and read it and I take this as a compliment too. ‘I am writing for a Berlin magazine now’ I happily inform him. ‘Oh really, how long have you been doing that?’he asks. ‘About six weeks’ I smile ecstatically at him that he is taking an interest in my writing. ‘How is the running going?’ I quiz him on an aspect of his life that I highly admire and find an inspiration. ‘Really well, I ran the Dublin marathon recently’ he tells me. ‘Wow, you did that, amazing? He is fit too, it is a hard fact to overlook. At this point I then turn my attention to his friend-my old classmate- who does seem to be wondering how we seem to know so much about each other after such a long time not seeing each other. Is it obvious to outsiders who observe such a tension filled conversation that they have had an online correspondence that ended weirdly? I do wonder. He tells me about his life and then he asks me ‘So, what about you, Rhea, are you married with kids?’ ‘Um, no I am not’ I respond with a slight laugh, aware that the man who has rejected me is observing this conversation. ‘I am writing Sex and the City style articles, I would hardly be married’, I say dismissively with a wave trying to act blasé and laugh it off in my obvious tense state. ‘Well, I will leave you gentlemen to your pint.’ I announce , not wanting to leave at all, but trying to play it cool. ‘I am insulted that you want to leave us already, you just arrived!’ my Fantasy man’s friend announces. ‘Tell me more about your writing and work’ he says. ‘Um, ok, here is my card if you are interested, my blog is on it’. I hand it to him and then say ‘Oh, it’s my last one’. This happens to be a stroke of luck because I don’t want to give one to my Fantasy dream man anyway because a) he has rejected me and b) he is in many of the stories and poems that I wrote over the past months in any case being my principal muse and I would rather not go out of my way to give him access to my blog. He already knows that he was the muse of one of my most inspired poems that I am very proud of because I wrote it for him and sent it to him and told him which was likely all too much for him and the reason I scared him off and he rejected me in the first place. Eventually I make my excuses and make a point of leaving the bar before him so I can take my pride with me in tact. ‘We are now heading down to that other old bar the one that never changes over the decades.’ I tell him. ‘It has been renovated a bit’, he tells me. ‘Oh, really, you mean the owner has actually allowed the place to be dusted?’ I enquire. ‘Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say he allowed that’ he says. ‘Well, I guess I will go down and wipe off a layer of dust’ I tell him with a seductive smile that I can hardly suppress. The dust had settled on this issue between me and him and I had gotten over it and now the dust that was the cloud of an online correspondence has been wiped away and the months I had of getting over him have been polished clear and I am left bare and shining and fully alert to what I always intuited; that I really did have a serious crush on this guy despite that fact that I had not seen him in 18 years. ‘Have a nice Christmas’ he says, as I exit the bar. ‘ You too’ I respond, as I hasten to leave against my will and my heart but my pride demanding it.