Bella Italia Romantica!

This year has been one of the busiest of my life. I moved from the city to the desert, bought a house that needed more significant work than I’d thought, and started a new job. Adjusting to a very different lifestyle has been more challenging and time consuming than I ever would have thought, and I didn’t have a lot of time to write this year. But I took a short trip to Italy at the end of the summer and it really re-invigorated my desire to return to the dance romance I’d begun at the end of last year. Crowded and touristy as it was in late August – try not to go to Europe in August; wait till September if possible!! – Italy was so beautiful, so romantic. It just got me in the mood to write again, even if the house isn’t all done πŸ™‚

At top is one of my favorite pics, in Venice. We had to be tourists and take a gondola ride of course! It was truly beautiful. I hadn’t been to Italy before and I’d heard so many stories of how smelly and dirty Venice is, and I didn’t find it to be that way at all. I guess maybe because I studied history in grad school, I couldn’t stop thinking of what a gorgeous human creation the whole city structure was, the beautiful old buildings, how it must have looked in the eighteenth century, what it must have been like to walk through the mysterious, narrow, winding streets, and stroll along the canal. I’m a water person – I love all kinds of bodies of water, but mostly rivers and canals because they’re often found in urban areas, and they serve as vital part of the modern cities.

I was just so enchanted with Venice. Here are a few more pics:

Above is the Grand Canal.

A very interesting piece of art as part of the upcoming Venice Biennale exhibit. So, it’ll be taken down after Biennale ends in November.

A quaint little boutique along a canal. There are boutiques everywhere. I wished more of them sold original things, like this one, but most sold only souvenirs. Enchanting as they were at first, by about my third hour there, I felt like if I saw one more cheap face mask I might just jump in the canal.

 

Okay, I can’t help but include a pic of the back of our hot water taxi driver πŸ™‚

This is the island of Murano, off of the big island in the Venice lagoon. The smaller islands were much less crowded. I loved the buildings here. Their colorfulness reminded me a bit of San Juan, Puerto Rico.

Below, is Rome. Rome was super packed with tourists – because of the Sistine Chapel, the Vatican, the Colosseum, etc., but beautiful as well.

A restaurant across from a piazza where we had dinner.

The vegetarian secondi portion of my dinner at a restaurant near the Colosseum. The red wines don’t have sulfites there, unlike ours. So, I could relax and drink without fear of a migraine!

The Trevi Fountain.

The Vatican, which is far more huge than I ever thought. I was there right after the terrorist attack in Barcelona and security was super tight.

Gorgeous art work in the Vatican Museum. We weren’t allowed to take any pictures in the Sistine Chapel, which of course was breathtaking, albeit a little smaller than I’d imagined. But we were allowed to take flash-free photos in the other Vatican museums.

Bacchus, the god of wine – my favorite statue in the Vatican Museum πŸ™‚

The Colosseum, which was far more huge than I’d imagined. It was packed! At first I was a little worried about a terrorist attack, especially after what had just happened in Barcelona, but soon I was so carried away by the history, the marvel, the grandeur of it all, it was impossible to even let your mind go to bad things.

We also visited Verona, where Shakespeare set Romeo and Juliet. Lovely little city.

 

“Juliet’s balcony.” This house belonged to a family called the Capulets. According to JULIET, a really engaging novel by Anne Fortier, the oldest known telling of the story of Romeo and Juliet (Shakespeare’s was not the first) took place in Siena, in Medieval times. So this balcony generally serves as a tourist attraction πŸ™‚

What would a trip to Italy be without visiting the Leaning Tower of Pisa! Although, this building didn’t seem to be any more leaning than others I saw throughout. It’s just the most famous. And man was that place touristy. I did have just about the best gelato I had in Italy, outside of a little gelato shop adjacent to the Trevi Fountain.

My absolute favorite place we went, though, was Florence. I love art, and I love walkable cities with history and interesting architecture, and lots of water, and Florence had all of the above in absolute spades.

The Ponte Vecchio covered bridge, which crosses the Arno River. So many shops inside the little buildings along the bridge!

The Uffizi museum. The street leads down to the Arno River. We didn’t get to go into the Uffizi, shamefully, because we hadn’t bought tickets ahead of time and the line would have taken all day. Next time I go, I will remember to get all my tix online well ahead of my visit!

The breathtaking Duomo (cathedral). It you read the opening pages of my old novel, SWALLOW, main character Sophie compares her little Arizona town, named Florence as well, to the real thing, noting sarcastically that while the famous Florence boasts the Duomo and the Uffizi, her little town houses the Arizona State Penitentiary πŸ™‚

The inside of the Santa Croce cathedral, which is like the Pantheon in Paris, and houses many of the tombs of Italy’s most revered such as Dante, Michelangelo, Galileo.

Dante’s tomb.

And the tomb of Michelangelo.

Of course we had to visit The Accademia Gallery, which now houses many of Michelango’s statues, including David πŸ™‚

Okay, I kind of went crazy with David pics πŸ™‚ I couldn’t help it!

Here are a couple of lesser-known Michelangelos.

Anyway, off to work on TREMOR, my next dance romance, which I am hoping to have out by the end of this year, or early next year at the latest. Thank you so much for your patience and continued support! In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed my mini pictorial tour of Italy πŸ™‚

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Careening Down Mulholland Drive, and Blue Line-ing to Long Beach

Last weekend was so nice (temps reaching 80!), I had to put work aside and get out and explore more of L.A. Friday evening I took the snaky Mulholland Drive home, which, thanks to a short story by Michael Connelly, I will always think of as Mulholland Dive. (It’s also the title of a surrealist, rather haunting David Lynch film.)

The street wends itself through the entirety of Hollywood Hills, from west to east L.A. and is the official dividing point between Los Angeles (to the south) and the Valley (to the north). Despite its reputation – and I did find it to be frightening at some points, especially when locals fly around some of those precipitous curves and intimidate you into doing the same – it’s more touristy than I would have thought. There are overlooks everywhere, inviting you to park your car and take pics. Which is what I did. Here are some from the east point, right above Hollywood, looking out over downtown.

It kind of looks like Oz, right? Oz in the distance anyway, beyond the cliff.

On Saturday I wanted to go to a beach. I haven’t been to Laguna yet, but after researching it, thought it was something my mom might like to do when she comes to visit next month, so decided to save it. I haven’t been to Venice yet either but just didn’t feel like driving all the way across town again on my weekend. I get enough of the west side on my weekdays πŸ™‚ Ditto for Malibu.

So, I decided to go down to Long Beach, and to take the Blue Line (one of the seven Los Angeles subway lines) to do it. I’m a rather proud rider of the Los Angeles subway. I guess it’s the New Yorker still in me… (It’s actually called the Metro rail but I like to call it the subway :)) I’ve now taken three of the lines: “my” lineΒ  – the Red line, which is probably the most popular, as it goes from the Valley down to Universal City (where Universal Studios is), down through the most touristy parts of Hollywood, then to the trendy Los Feliz, then on to downtown (one of the two big work hubs), and ends at the train station; the Purple line, which is a rather short line and goes to Koreatown; and now the Blue line, which I now know travels not below- but above-ground, and stops first at the Staples Center (which is like Madison Square Garden), then continues on to several more stops in downtown and south L.A., passing through Watts, Compton, and ending at Long Beach.

Curving upward as we leave Long Beach.

This is taken from the Compton station, which is lined with these these big, bold letters spelling the town’s name. I thought they were so artistic. Unfortunately, I couldn’t really get a good picture as the train rolled by, but here is part of the M. I’ve heard Compton is a poor part of town but, if that was ever true, it must have enjoyed a renaissance because it didn’t seem run-down at all. The train passed a big shopping center with a Best Buy and other electronics and high-end stores, and a very snazzy-looking casino.

I found the train ride more interesting than the destination though. I don’t think Long Beach has much of an actual beach; it’s more of a harbor.

…with lots of restaurants and stores.

and a small lighthouse.

and a ferris wheel, which wasn’t being used.

I am learning that much of the food in L.A. tends to be Mexican-ized (this is particularly true of Italian where pasta sauce tastes strangely like mild salsa and risotto like it belongs beside refried beans). I ordered “jerk salmon” at this dock-side restaurant. In New York that would mean the fish would be drenched in that mouth-watering Jamaican sauce that is somehow super spicy, tangy, and sweet all at once. But this was simply grilled salmon topped with mango salsa. Very well-prepared grilled salmon and delicious mango salsa, but IT WAS NOT JERK SALMON!!! Oh well.

Ballet Arizona’s SLEEPING BEAUTY, and Phoenix Society For the Arts Reads SWALLOW!

I feel so badly that I haven’t had time to write very much here lately. Writing doesn’t come close to paying the bills right now (will it ever??) so I do legal contract work, and I have a really time-consuming assignment right now. When I’m between assignments, I’ll try to write as much as I can, but otherwise it’s going to be slow going, sadly…

Anyway, I spent last weekend in Phoenix. I was a guest of the Phoenix Society for the Arts book club whose February read was Swallow! I was so honored, and it was such a wonderful experience. People asked all kinds of interesting questions, and they pointed to specific scenes and characters in the novel that they found particularly entertaining or related to well. One of my early writing instructors – the illustrious James Conrad πŸ™‚Β  – once told me that you can tell if people are really into your book if they talk about specifics; if they just say general things – even nice things like “I really liked it,” or “I thought it was really good” – they are probably just b.s.ing. So it made me so happy that people were remarking on how horrible the sister and her nephews were or how wicked Alana was or how they couldn’t believe what Sophie did with the wedding dress or how the judges behaved in the courtroom.

They also asked me a lot of questions about how real everything was – how autobiographical the novel really was. I found that so hard to respond to because the inciting incident – Sophie’s globus hystericus – came from a very real experience, and yet I don’t think there’s a single scene in the book that actually happened, from start to finish. Most of the characters are combinations of so many people I’ve known and then added onto that they’re virtually made up. In order to make something dramatic and interesting that will keep readers’ attention, you really have to work with climax and character arcs and creating a twisting turning plot that will surprise and maybe even shock. You have to make stuff up, and a lot of it or the book just won’t compel readers to turn pages. And then at a certain point you get so carried away with your characters, they start to have a life of their own. And then that removes it further from “reality.” Yet everything is true with that proverbial capital T, you know. Anyway, I got very tongue twisted trying to explain that.

It was such a wonderful experience, though, and I’ll be forever thankful to the Phoenix Society for the Arts for having me, and for giving me such an engaged, inquisitive, alive audience of extremely thorough readers. It was one of the very best experiences I’ve had yet as a writer πŸ™‚

That Saturday, my dad took me to downtown Phoenix to see Ballet Arizona’s production of Sleeping Beauty. (This was also with Phoenix Society for the Arts). I was so happily surprised by how excellent the company is! I really didn’t know what to expect, because once you see dancers like Alina Cojocaru and Veronika Part and David Hallberg and Marcelo Gomes in all the main roles, you really don’t know if you’re going to be able to have a favorable response to anyone else. I thought the company very much resembled New York City Ballet, which isn’t surprising since the director, Ib Andersen, was a Balanchine protege and a dancer with NYCB. He really has a wonderful little company of dancers. The principals stand out with their charisma, their very strong dance technique, and their good acting, but without being flashy and star-like – just like NYCB.

 

 

I especially loved Astrit Zejnati (above, click on photos for original source) as Prince Desire and Natalia Magnicaballi as the Lilac Fairy. And I thought Tzu-Chia Huang was a very sweet Aurora who acted each of the three acts very well. She and Zejnati got loads of applause in the third act, not surprisingly, for their gorgeous fish dives – and her legs were straight up in the air, like Cojocaru’s. Some of the best fish dives I’ve seen! Her Rose Adagio balances were good – not the best I’ve seen – but she held onto them long enough for the audience really to applaud her. Zejnati is small – he reminded me a bit of NYCB’s Joaquin De Luz – but with a very commanding presence. He was a true prince. And he had the ever so engaging expressiveness of Gonzalo Garcia, and everyone knows how I feel about him πŸ˜€ It’s so hard for me not to think of dancers back home when I write about dance now – sorry if that’s annoying!

 

 

Magnicaballi (above, second photo of Swan Lake, with Zejnati) was one of the most magical, larger than life Lilac Fairies I’ve seen. She reminds me a bit of San Francisco Ballet’s Maria Kochetkova. She was the perfect embodiment of the “fairy godmother” as she blessed baby Aurora with her beautifully eloquent port de bras, countered Carabosse (Nancy Crowley) with a swift but elegant flick of her arm, and she captivated the audience along with the Prince at the end of the Vision scene as she whisked him off to the real Sleeping Beauty.

Ib Andersen has a wonderful company. It’s too bad they don’t have a very long season – they seem only to perform for two or three days every two or three months. They do mainly classical ballet and Balanchine, with some Robbins, and some of Andersen’s own work, which I now really want to see. Fans of NYCB would definitely love this company.

Palm Springs Film Festival, With a Stop at Cabazon

I spent this past weekend with my dad in Palm Springs. He came down with a group and invited me to meet them, which, now that I’m in L.A., was pretty easy. It was the last weekend of the two week-long film festival there, so we caught a few movies. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to see either of the two dance films showing. One was Pina, by German filmmaker Wim Wenders, a biopic – in 3D – about Pina Bausch, which I know is coming to L.A. and which I definitely plan to see. The other was a Russian movie called My Father Baryshnikov, about a Soviet era student at a strict Russian dance academy who pretends that his father is Baryshnikov. It looks like that one toured the arthouse film circuit in N.Y. in October, but that was my moving month, so no wonder I missed it. Did anyone see it?

But I did see a film that involved dance – namely Allegra Kent. Bert Stern: the Original Madman is a pretty good documentary of the photographer, who is most known for having taken the last pictures ever shot of Marilyn Monroe (for Vogue). He photographed numerous famous women, like Audrey Hepburn, Elizabeth Taylor, Kate Moss, Twiggy – the list goes on and on and on… and Allegra Kent, to whom he was married for a time and with whom he has three children (two of whom were interviewed in the film, along with Kent). He is also, I guess somewhat infamously, known for taking those Marilyn Monroe-esque photos of Lindsey Lohan for New York Magazine a few years ago. Finally – and most interesting to me – he’s also known as a great innovator in advertising for some now iconic photos he took for Smirnoff Vodka, mainly of the Egyptian pyramids, very coolly reflected upside down through a martini glass.

I guess it’s no surprise that Allegra Kent was attracted to him – he came across in the film as a huge womanizer, much like Balanchine. He calls women saints and man their slave. How Balanchine is that! And his womanizing is of course what led to their divorce… He says in the movie that the moment he saw Kent, he thought she would make a wonderful mother, and she did indeed become the mother of his only children. But he didn’t really want the children, he later admits. He didn’t know what to do with children.

He also admits he was greatly drawn to the beauty of the women he photographed, and wanted to have sex with (or “make out with” as he called it) the vast majority of them. But he admits he seldom wanted anything more; he never wanted to marry them, or be more to them than a lover. This is what, he says, made him the photographer he was.

It’s a very honest film. A very straight depiction of a man who seems very shallow emotionally, but was an artistic genius.

Anyway, I tweeted a bit about the film, and one of my friends, who’s a dancer, said he’s reading Allegra Kent’s biography and, according to it, Stern is a horror. I can believe he must have been a horror as a husband. But interestingly Kent says only nice things about him in the film.

It’s really Stern who makes himself look bad regarding Kent. When she confronted him about his relationships with other women, he remembers, he threw it back on her saying she let men (in the form of dancers) touch her all day. When she finally asked for a divorce, he thought how dare she; she couldn’t do that to him.

Their oldest daughter tells the filmmaker (Shannah Laumeister, formerly one of Stern’sΒ  models as well) that she is really a daddy’s girl, and her daughters – still small children – echo her, giggling that they are grandpa’s girls too. But the younger daughter, who also seems very genuine, and a bit more shy than the other daughter, tells Laumeister she never really got along well with her father. She had a bit of a weight problem, though I still thought she was a lovely young woman. But I wonder if that has something to do with her father not getting along well with her, given the way he seemed to think about women.

Anyway, very interesting film and definitely worth seeing if you have the chance. I found Stern to be annoying, shallow, and very unlikeable as a person, and still a genius, an artist and an innovator.

I also saw Haywire, Steven Soderberg’s latest, starring Gina Carano, Ewan McGregor, Michael Douglas, Antonio Banderas, Michael Fassbender, and Channing Tatum. This was almost the complete antithesis of the Bert Stern film. Women here are all powerful but not because of their looks. I loved loved loved this movie! Finally, a female James Bond! And Ms. Carano supposedly did all her own stunts! But I don’t think I will ever stop loving Ewan McGregor, even when he plays the “bad guy.” πŸ™‚ This one’s opening all over the U.S. very soon.

Finally, I saw a Belgian film called The Invader, by visual artist Nicolas Provost. I joked on Twitter that it was one of those European films filled with gratuitous nudity, gorgeous cinematography and no plot whatsoever. A friend from graduate school promptly reminded me via Twitter that those were exactly the kinds of films I used to love (and would make her watch ad nauseam with me). I do still love them! It’s kind of funny though because now that I’m a writer (or trying to become a writer or whatever) I wonder how one pitches that kind of thing…

Seriously, I really enjoyed The Invader – about an African immigrant trying to create a new life for himself in Belgium, and meeting women, and having fantasies (I think) and getting into fights with men who were trying to manipulate him (the outcomes of which may or may not have been fantasies), etc. Beautifully shot, which I guess makes sense since Provost is a visual artist. And the actor playing the main character, Issaka Sawadogo, is absolutely captivating.

Anyway, Palm Springs itself was really lovely – it was the first time I’ve actually been there, though I’ve driven by many many times on Interstate 10. Here are some photos (it was a bit overcast, so they didn’t come out all that well):

A very popular diner called Sherman’s near the main theater and festival center.

The main street – Palm Canyon Drive.

I was very attracted to this cute little smiley face atop a yogurt restaurant.

Sonny Bono was the major of Palm Springs. Here is a statue of him on Palm Canyon Drive.

You can tell you’re getting close to Palm Springs when driving on I-10 because you begin to see these modern windmills.

On my way back to L.A., I couldn’t help stopping at Cabazon, a town just west of Palm Springs that boasts the largest dinosaur replicas in the world, designed by Knotts Berry Farm sculptor Claude Bell. I remember Dinny, the apotosaurus above, so fondly as a child. We took many vacations to L.A., Anaheim, or San Diego, and on the drive over from Phoenix, I’d always be on the lookout for him. Whenever I saw him, I knew we were almost there.

Inside Dinny’s belly there’s a little gift shop.

Mr. Rex was built years later, so I don’t remember him. I think he might have scared the wits out of me as a child though.

When I tweeted photos of the dinosaurs, a friend told me they were featured in the movie PeeWee’s Big Adventure, which I haven’t seen.

There’s also a creationist museum off to Mr. Rex’s side, which I didn’t have time to visit. A strand of creationism postulates that dinosaurs co-existed with humans.

And there’s a little place to eat in front of Dinny. Ominous-looking clouds, huh? Unbelievably, I didn’t hit any rainstorms on the way back to L.A.

Missing the Sonoran Desert

Here are some pictures I took of my trip to Phoenix (and surrounding areas).

My cousin recently bought a house in an area north of Phoenix that’s not very developed. At least not right now. Phoenix is one of the most rapidly expanding cities in the US. I stayed mainly with her and I loved it. Made me want to build a ranch house out in the middle of the desert, perhaps in a town like Cave Creek. So immensely peaceful, quiet, warm. I’m finding NY to be so distracting lately. I don’t know how I wrote my first novel here but I’m finding it increasingly hard to concentrate. I can’t imagine ever leaving NYC completely, but I really need something different, at least for a couple months out of the year.

Above is Camelback Mountain, near Scottsdale, my favorite suburb of Phoenix. The mountain is so named because it kind of resembles a camel.

I haven’t been back to Phoenix (where I grew up) in ten years. And I haven’t lived there in almost 20. I had a bit of culture shock. I wasn’t used to the wide open spaces. This is the weekend, in the middle of the afternoon. Not so many cars.

And inside Scottsdale Fashion Square mall. This is on a Thursday afternoon. Practically had the place to ourselves.

Such a shock to see free seats! Never, never in New York. This was taken at Metrocenter, another mall, in central Phoenix, where I took ice skating lessons as a child. I’m really not a mall person; I just like to see my old familiar places when I go back.

Back at Scottsdale Fashion Square, a flyer I found at the movie theater there – the Harkins Camelview – one of the only arthouse cinemas in the Phoenix area. So psyched to see that they’re housing the Emerging Pictures Ballet in Cinema and Opera in Cinema series! Apparently, they’ve already shown the Bolshoi’s Coppelia.

In Scottsdale, I wanted to visit the Borgata as well, but we didn’t have time. Instead we found this newish little mall of boutique shops and restaurants across from Scottsdale Fashion Square. The pack of shops was called The Scottsdale Waterfront and bordered some kind of body of water – a canal I imagine.

Restaurants looked packed but stores here, as everywhere, seemed pretty empty. I guess it’s the same pretty much everywhere with the economy and people shopping online and all. Will there be any storefront stores in the future?

Of course one of my favorite things about Arizona is the Mexican food. It’s everywhere, regardless of whether a restaurant specializes in Mexican food or not. This is just at a run of the mill breakfast place – The Village Inn I think it was called – where I had potato pancakes and eggs with avocado, green chile hollandaise sauce, and spicy pork carnitas.

My cousin found some margarita-flavored wine from a local winery, Kokopelli. A little too sweet for me, but interesting.

 

On my way back, I was browsing in a magazine shop in the airport and found that Phoenix Magazine‘s May issue is devoted to the city’s best Mexican food. I’ve made my dad promise to take me to all of them when I return. Which must be in far fewer than ten years.