I woke up sometimes around 7AM. Everybody else got up early too though, as there were party preparations to be completed. After a quick breakfast, we loaded up the car and my uncle and I set off for Griffith Park, site of the party to be.

Finding tables to claim proved a curiously difficult exercise. Apparently most have to be reserved through the Dept. of Recreation. It took us a while to figure out which these were, so we ended up relocating 3 separate times. It turns out we had no need to be so early, because the park was largely empty.

Meanwhile, the morning fog was burning off rapidly. My cousin and aunt arrived a bit later, with the remainder of the party items, and soon, the Tomato Birthday Party was ready to go. It took a little while for everybody to find their way over, but soon the 3 tables were all set up for 3 concurrent birthday parties (my cousin and here two friends, who are twins).

The first excitement involved a war with feather dusters. Why feather dusters, I couldn’t say, but all involved appeared to enjoy this pursuit, and battles raged until everybody was tired enough to get a drink and a snack.

Then came charades, although once again the feather dusters had a role, this time as props. We had some very humorous ones, including what was allegedly a person steering a flying carpet. The obvious ideas were actually quite rare.

Finally, the tomatoes that we’d picked up the previous day were put to use: projectiles to attack my uncle (who was singing a song in German). While part of the plan, the tomatoes weren’t nearly as ripe as they should have been, and the aim of those throwing was sometimes a little wild. The whole event was quite messy.

The tomato cake (!) was then adorned with candles. Unfortunately, the wind made keeping them alight difficult, so it’s debatable how many candles were actually blown out by my cousin. The tomato cake definitely looked its part though, and it tasted good too.

At that point I had to leave, so I missed most of the gift unwrapping, saying good-bye to my soon-to-be-10-year-old cousin. My uncle took me to the Glendale bus station, where we had a pleasant chat waiting for the somewhat delayed Bakersfield bus. Fortunately the bus had a place to store my copious luggage. On the other hand, we hit traffic immediately upon leaving, and since my connection in Bakersfield was a short one, I was more than a bit anxious about missing my train.

Once the bus left the LA area, the route was actually quite interesting. I-5 passes through some very wild areas, and we saw some interesting little communities, odd lakes, and a rather burnt out little valley that had recently been ravaged by fire.

Surprisingly, the bus did arrive on time in Bakersfield (3:15PM). I gather they plan for delays in their scheduling, which suits me fine. The train allowed me to ‘check’ in my baggage which was helpful. As we boarded, we were continually reminded that this would be a crowded ride.

The scenery, going north from Bakersfield wasn’t very exciting. Mine was the 4th stop, and we were already 20 minutes late when we arrived there (Hanford) at 5:30PM. I wondered how late the folks going to Oakland would be. It proved irrelevant, as my father hadn’t arrived at the station until a few minutes after I did.

After loading up stuff in the car, the two of proceeded east up highway 198. We stopped in Visalia for gas, but otherwise continued without stop. Just past 3 rivers, around 6:30PM, we turned onto the road to Mineral King. It’s a road notable for the fact that its 25 miles seem a lot more, what with it being narrow, windy, and steep. The pavement isn’t always that great either.

I was driving on this stretch, and since the road wasn’t really wide enough for two cars to pass, I went slowly, keeping an eye out for traffic going the other way. There was quite a bit. The road slowly carried us up from 1,000ft to 7,500ft, passing through a number of different subclimates, as grass turned to bushes, turned to deciduous trees, and finally to conifers. Around half way up, I was tired enough to let somebody else drive. A long short road.

We entered the park around 8PM, with the sun beginning to noticably set. At the Cold Springs campground, we more or less chose our spot in the dark. As we weren’t using the tent for the night, setting up camp consisted of laying out tarp, pads and sleeping bags, a pretty quick process.

Dinner was mostly odds and ends, with a tiny candle for light. After exploring the area a bit, and paying for our spot, we called it a night, around 10:30PM. Our nearest neighbors still had a roaring fire going.

So I was up early. I had a quick breakfast, and decided I’d go down to Border’s in Westwood to pick up a certain DVD. This is of course a decent walk, and it took probably about 25 minutes to get there. What do I find? I’m too early, they won’t open for another hour plus. So I figure I’ll walk around a bit, kill some time, and come back. I’ve just made it to the Masonic lodge off of Santa Monica Blvd. when my roommate calls to inform me that the housing staff just came by and want my stuff moved out immediately, or there’ll be penalties (fees). Argh!

Well, I wound up going all the way back, and moving my stuff out. To the downstairs lobby, where I entrusted it to these same folks. Having officially checked out, I went back down to Westwood again, and this time the Borders was actually open. Found the movie. Bought the movie. Returned. It was now getting warm, and I’d just walked down to Westwood and back twice. I paused for a bit in the UCLA library, mainly doing webpage related stuff, and then taking a few pictures around the area. My last campus pictures for quite a while, I’d guess.

When my uncle gave my a call that he’d be by, I returned to the dorm, for the final time. He was there in short order, and we loaded up quickly. However, the plan was also to drop off a broken computer at recycling. This proved difficult, because nobody seemed to know where the recycling place was. Once we found it, it was closed.

On the way back to the house, we stopped at an excellent Chinese restaurant off Sunset Blvd, where I had my first experience of dim sum. Interesting. Apparently my uncle’s been visiting the place since the mid-1980s, before some of its current staff were even born!

Next up, we went by an Armenian grocery store. There, after some asking, we managed to obtain a half flat of overripe tomatoes, for something around $3! These are for the birthday party (of my nearly-10-year-old cousin) tomorrow.

We got to the house just as the cake (round, like a tomato) was being colored red. Then there was green frosting for leaves, and tomato-themed party favors being organized in gift bags. Most of us were tired, so once the cake and party-related stuff was done, they called it a night.

In a bid to figure out my schedule tomorrow (or rather, how I’m getting to Hanford), I discovered that there was a much better bus for me that leaves from Glendale, not Union Station in downtown LA, and goes to Bakersfield at the same time that the other one does. Problem: you have to get the ticket at a station, which Glendale is not. And you can’t get it online. Argh.

So my uncle wound up taking me down to Union Station at 11PM on a Saturday night to buy my ticket. It worked. The place was open, I got my ticket, and we returned, shortly thereafter to go to sleep.

Tomorrow, if all goes well, to Mineral King.

Got up at the usual time, and made a quick stop for breakfast in the dining hall. Then did more last minute studying before walking down to class. It took the usual 12 minutes, and I arrived a bit early, but rather than chat, I preferred to wander around the corridors, and continue studying.

We started the final slightly late. It wasn’t especially difficult, but it was long, and there were clearly sections of the vocabulary that I didn’t know. Not good. I wound up finishing in a hair over 2 hours, and went straight back to the dorm. It felt a bit empty, not having anything immediate that needed doing, now that Arabic is finished for the summer. I had a slow lunch, packed most of my remaining stuff, and fiddled around with the computer.

I managed to (finally) connect with my cousin who lives just a few miles away, so we agreed to meet for dinner in the evening. Then I figured I might as well explore Westwood, so I walked down to Wilshire and along Westwood Blvd. There are still a fair number number of Iranian restaurants and shops along the way, although they are by no means the majority. It was fun though. Once I crossed Santa Monica Blvd, the character changed again, but I continued for a while longer.

After a little miscommunication, my cousin and I met up, and she drove back their place. Her son is quite a bit bigger than when I last saw him, and he is very active, and already speaking an interesting mixture of English and Farsi (and, I am told, on occasion Spanish).

We all wound up going to the Santa Monica 3rd Ave. Promenade, where I was the previous weekend. We had a fun little walk, with my young relative taking a great deal of joy in the dinosaur fountains that lined the walkway. We wound up eating dinner at California Pizza Kitchen (my first visit there in several months), though the experience was a bit mixed: the service was uneven, and every few minutes, somebody managed to drop a dish with shattering results.

After eating, we were all rather sleepy, so they dropped me off by my dorm. and we said our goodbyes. Good that we managed to get together though, it would have been silly to spend an entire summer a few meals apart and never meet.

Tomorrow, I move out.

The problem with being almost finished is that you’re, well, almost finished.

Which is to say, I feel finished, but there’s a pesky little test (final exam – written) tomorrow standing between me and freedom. Irritating if I do say so myself.

Today was the oral exam. In practice, this simple meant chatting with someone else from the class in Arabic. My partner was still somewhat leery of departing from our script, which is unfortunate, since I have a somewhat difficult time keeping track of what I’m supposed to be saying. Can’t we just talk? Oh well.

We had a 1 hour review session, and then wound up sitting outside. A beautiful day as usual (particularly since at 10AM the sun hasn’t reached its full potential). So rather than reviewing as we waited for our turns, the whole lot of us, 10 or so, wound up chatting of this or that.

The actual speaking test was quite straightforward. Preparing for tomorrow’s test, less so. Guess I should have been more dilligent about vocabulary. Finally, sick of running through flash cards, I did some of my packing. Have to be out of here by Saturday.

I hate waiting.

Final review session in Arabic today. Bundles of fun. In fact, it was actually kind of neat to see how much we’ve learned over the last 8 weeks. Or rather, were supposed to learn. It’s that little gap that has me worried. Lots of grammar. Lots of words. For me, that means lots more still review.

For lunch, I was once again trying to play it safe. Avoid anything that could possibly have been responsible for yesterday’s disagreeable little bout of stomach sickness. I don’t know why, but this summer, dining has just been a pain. The dining hall here has a decent selection of food (less than on the Farm, but still, not small), but it’s been tricky finding stuff I like, and not winding up wishing I’d just skipped lunch altogether. The ice cream, I’ll say, has been pretty good.

So after my somewhat cautious lunch, I returned to the picnic tables by our classroom to continue practicing for the Arabic oral. Now we have a script. Just need to make sure we won’t skip anything, or we’ll be nowhere near the requisite 15 minutes. Events proved my partner something of a philanthropist, when two guys came around collecting money for a worthy cause. I was sufficiently impressed to join. Putting your money where your mouth is…

Rest of the afternoon ensconced in the textbook, and looking at photos from last weekend. I’d say they mostly turned out quite nice, although it’s amusing to realize that I don’t appear in any of them. Guess my prejudice against being photographed has become a little too vehement. On the whole I don’t have too many people shots. Something to work on…

Also, finalized on the plans for next week. Going hiking, around Mineral King. Haven’t been there in about 8 years, so yeah, it should be fun. The clever part is that I can take the train and bus, to meet up with my dad. This saves me from having to fly back to San Francisco, and saves him from an extra 200 miles of driving. And it’s cheap (relatively) going by bus and train. Goodness all around.

Nothing noteworthy today. And I mean nothing. Arabic review. Arabic review. Blah. More Arabic review. Yay grammar. Yay exam on Friday. Yay world. Blah again. Think of it as a post-long-weekend hangover.

A placeholder post for a placeholder day? I think so. Getting up at 5AM to finish writing out a dialogue (to be given from memory in class Thursday) undoubtedly helped tremendously.

So today started, somewhat rousingly, with its usual 9AM fun. We had, all told, about 3 hours of structured grammar/vocab review, and one hour of pre-planning-for-oral-exam review. All eminently exciting. There are still a few members in the class who are, to put it charitably, behind the curve. I don’t mean that they don’t know all the material (a category in which everybody, including myself, I think fits). I mean that they aren’t able to keep track of the current topic. Which is a bit distressing, since much of the directions in the class are still in English.

At 1PM, I ran off to meet my visiting friends down in Westwood Village. It proved curiously difficult to actual arrive in the same place at the same time, but we did it. My research claimed that there was a cheap sandwich place nearby, and indeed there proved to be (cheap, in the Westwood sense). Sandbag’s was a success (in spite of the odd name). Looks like we are all mostly recovered from yesterday.

Afterwards, we trudged back to my dorm, which involved wheeling all their luggage up the hill again (previous time was Saturday), and then I rushed off to meet a professor, whose advice I was hoping to get on graduate school. The building was still in some state of construction (most of the doors inside didn’t have names on them yet). I did find the professor’s name, and presumably office, but the professor himself was notably not there.

So instead I went straight back to the dorm, and after figuring out which buses would be most direct going to the airport (still an hour and half, minimum), we went on an abbreviated tour of UCLA (abbreviated courtesy of sore feet all around). Saw the football team practicing on the field (good luck against USC guys, you’ll need it!), and then went through the central plaza. Very nice in the slightly muted afternoon lighting.

Next it was down Westwood Blvd, to sit outside by Peet’s Coffee, admiring the world go by. At 5PM, there’s a lot of world going by. Was nice to just hang out, with no particular aim. Still they had a plane to catch, so around 6, there were the usual goodbyes and we went our separate ways.

The rest of the evening was the usual mishmash of homework, studying, and trying to catch up on the wonderful world outside. It sure is wonderful… but now there’s homework to finish in the morning.

Today’s plans didn’t require being anywhere before 11AM. So I took the opportunity to take an extended jaunt along Wilshire Boulevard. I started by walking down to the bus depot, and down to Wilshire, where I’d been the day before.

Proceeding east along Wilshire, in the general direction of LACMA (Los Angeles County Museum of Art) some miles distant), I passed through some very odd bits of LA. There was of course the extended Westwood area, which was mostly large condos, and occasional hotels and businesses along the road. By degrees, I slowly entered Beverly Hills, and for one lengthy stretch, passed through the golf course at the LA country club. Big thing. Took me 10 minutes to cross. At the other side, LA resumed a more familiar character: car dealerships, strip malls, occasional skyscrapers, and random palm trees. Not, I would add, a very pedestrian friendly route on the whole.

After almost 2 hours, it was clear that walking to LACMA wouldn’t do the trick, so I got a bus (correct change in hand!). I got off one stop too soon, so I was at LACMA’s overflow area, which seemed oddly abandoned. A few blocks farther north, was the real museum (not at all abandoned). Met my visitors there, and in we went.

I actually like LACMA because it’s small, but it does have limitatins. One member of our party had had more than enough classical (well 1500-1900) European art back home (which was Europe) which limited the appeal somewhat. Nonetheless, there were some neat pieces, and none of the overload I usual have from going to the Getty or the Met.

Still, you can only look at so many sculptures, paintings and pieces of ancient cookware before ennui sets in. So we had a quick look outside at the tar pits (still there, still smelly), before grabbing the bus for Santa Monica beach. This was more difficult than it should have been, as the bus unaccountably stopped and let all of its passengers of at Westwood Blvd (!), only halfway to its purported destination. So we waited for the next one.

Santa Monica is a nice town, and the cliffs about the beach have some great views. Nonetheless, for first time visitors, it’s a bit disconcerting that the whole park there basically serves as a place for the homeless to live. We found a path down to the boardwalk nearby. Weather was in the low 80s, with a slight breeze, and a clear sky. Stereotypical weather for LA.

The Santa Monica pier is also a nice spot, with shops, restaurants, a few rides, and about half a million people. We explored, I found a truly unappetizing bathroom, and we got lunch from a stand that was blaring loud annoying music. Still, the views of the beach were great. Swimmers and sunbathers could be seen for miles.

On the way down to the beach, on of my friends shinnied up a 30 ft. rope that was part of an athletic structure. Wow. On second thoughts, not having gloves, I think I’ll pass. We found a niche on the beach right by the lifeguard (who actually made us move a bit, we were blocking his view or something?). I waded into the water, but as I didn’t have a swimsuit, stopped just shy of getting completely soaked. No swimming for me. The friends were off and into the waves in no time. Instead, I wandered down the beach for over a file, teasing the waves and taking photos. Lots of waves. Lots of castles. Lots of people having a good time.

Around 6PM, we recongregated, desanded ourselves, and considered the possibilities for dinner. One of my friends had gone swimming with his contacts in, which caused problems. Still, we made our way up to the 3rd St. promenade in Santa Monica. There, we found more hordes of people, a variety of street performance, and even some pro-Israel protesters (Bomb Lebanon more? What exactly did they want? Anyways, none looked very excited, I’m guessing they’d been paid). After much indecision, we picked a restaurant specializing in seafood. Dinner was decent, and for dessert, we ordered two slices of different pies, and split them 3 ways.

Afterwards, we walked around a bit. While they were in a store, I received some medicinal marijuana literature from a passer-by. Not really very relevant for me. I mean, I certainly hope I’m not terminally ill. Everybody was in a philosophical mood as we waited for the bus back.

For a change, I got off at the right bus stop. Still, it was a substantial walk back to the dorm, and I passed a couple of drunk students having a very bizarre conversation in the middle of the road. Back in my room, my roommate was preparing for tomorrow’s classes, so I attempted to do likewise. Sleep won out over dilligence, around 11PM.

Rumor, or rather a recent e-mail exchange, has it that two of my Stanford friends are coming down for a visit this weekend. Their first time in Los Angeles. So as to be at the airport when they arrive, I ambled down this morning to the UCLA bus terminal, bright and early. Of course I missed the bus I was aiming for, so I spent half an hour waiting for Big Blue Bus numero 3. An opportunity to check my cellphone messages.
The bus itself had the usual interesting assortment of individuals. We had people out shopping, people on their way to work (yes, even on a Saturday), and of course, all different colors and backgrounds. A little Russian, a little French, a good amount of Spanish, even some Iranian! Still, the bus took a painfully indirect route, so I saw a lot more of Santa Monica than I was really hoping to. On account of leaving a bit late, and some traffic in the downtown, the 75 minute trip stretched to more than 90. So when we finally stopped at the LAX transit center, I was happy.
From there, I had to take the airport’s own bus to the terminal. LAX traffic didn’t make this any easier either, but I did eventually get there, a bit after 11AM. My friends had of course already arrived (and picked up their baggage), so in short order we went back outside to take the bus back to the transit center. Of cource we got on the wrong bus, and wound up making a circle, but the tour of LAX was interesting, I am sure. Once we actually made it to the transit center, we got on the same bus I’d taken down (well, same number bus, don’t know if it was physically the same or not).
The return was a little slow, and they were a bit sleepy, in part owing to having left so early. The view hadn’t changed much in the intervening hour, except that we were unceremoniously left off 7 long blocks further from the UCLA bus terminal than planned. Stupid construction.
I showed them a bit of campus on the plod up to my dorm, where we sat, and had a think. They had a bit of luggage, which made travelling around a bit more complicated, and we had tickets to a concert for the night, so we decided the best thing would be to simply take the bus to their hotel, drop the stuff off, and see what happened from their.
From mta.net, I was told to take the #2 LA transit bus. So down we went, to take what was in fact the same bus that I’d taken to my uncle’s place a few weeks earlier. I was a bit worried at first that it wasn’t the right bus, but gradually that fear wore off. It was however a rather slow bus, and became a very crowded one. Still, we had a view of Sunset Blvd. pretty much the whole way, passing from Beverly Hills, through the edge of Hollywood, and so on. By the time we’d made it to the downtown, the crowd had dispersed a bit, and you could see the odd mixture of skyscrapers, vacant lots and whatnot that make up LA’s ‘center.’
To get to the hotel actually proved quite easy. It was a rather proper looking hotel too, surprising given its price. Their room was on the 14th floor, and offered a very impressive view of a pool, not to mention a lot of western LA. It also had a very extensive collection of soaps and shampoos, which were promptly examined and pilfered by the guests. Hey, that’s what you do in hotels, right? Just don’t try to carry them on the plane any more (in fact, one of my friends lost a couple of odds and ends, courtesy of the new restrictions for ‘liquids on a plane’).
After a good rest, everybody (but me) was in their concert dress, and we set out to find a place for dinner. This was complicated by the fact that LA’s downtown was mostly a commercial district. This made for few restaurants, and even fewer on Saturday night. We gave up for the time being.
Instead, we took the metro (subway) in the direction of Hollywood. This proved a much more convenient method of transportation than bus, and in only 20 minutes we were less than a mile from our concert destination, and on Highland Blvd. in the middle of Hollywood. Glitz and kitsch abounded.
We admired the scene for a bit. The sun was getting a bit low, and the limos, hummers and taxis were whizzing by in a sort of golden glow. The sidewalks were packed, and the street itself was lined with boutiques, curios, and other tourist-oriented businesses. Everybody was trying to take in the Hollywood mystique.
Our restaurant ended up being a somewhat unassuming looking Italian restaurant. Inside though was a somewhat darkened 3 level place with a lot of vintage ’40s era decor. It claimed to be the oldest Italian restaurant in Hollywood, and they were certainly doing their best to look the part. On the bottom level, somebody was banging away at the piano, resulting in a lot of classical-Hollywood era music. Later on, one of the servers sang songs from that period too. The food itself was decent, and far more than any of us could eat. It was definitely a fun place.
Still, we had a concert at the Hollywood Bowl to go to, so around 7PM, we left. Given the crowds of cars and people streaming up the road, it wasn’t too hard to find. The church with the ‘Got God’ sign was a nice touch though. The bowl itself was enormous, and just getting in took a while. Our seats were definitely peanut gallery territory, although 4 giant screens gave us a somewhat better view of the performers, some many hundred feet in front of us. The place apparently seats 19,000, and it was pretty full.
The LA Philharmonic was doing an all-Tchaikovsky program. Fortunately, with some well-done amplification, we had no difficult hearing, although in the quieter parts, the crickets gave us an interesting counterpoint. It was actually rather cool, and many people had brought picnics (or wine) along, since the seats were essentially long benches.
The music itself was great: first the Cossack Dance from Mazeppa, then the Piano Concerto No.1 and finally the Fantasy from Romeo and Juliet. The finale, though, was incredible: the 1812 Overture complete with cannons, extra musicians (the USC marching band) and a very elaborate fireworks display. Colorful and loud it definitely was. The conductor himself was a pleasant fellow, and his commentary between the pieces was most amusing. A very fun concert.
Still, when it was over, we had to file out with the other thousands. After discovering that the buses there were private (didn’t take our bus passes), we decided to walk back down to Highland Ave. There we split: they to take the metro back (or failing that a direct bus) to the hotel, and me to continue to Sunset Blvd.
Sunset Blvd. was a parking lot. I waited with half a dozen other people for over half an hour, as traffic slowly meandered past, a ceaseless train of glittering vehicles, accompanied by a cacophony of horns and brakes. Around 11:30PM, the bus did arrive. Once again, I was too impatient, and got off the bus three stops too soon, with a bunch of other people. The result was a long walk back to the dorm. through slightly unfamiliar territory. My roommate, who’d just returned from a two-day trip to Santa Barbara, was already back and asleep. I followed his example.