Festa d'Autunno Part Two: Salad & Dessert

Plus a check-in, so about them results...

The way earthly things are going.

In January 2018 I worked at The French Laundry for three months and made enough money to take a proper vacation. Perhaps one of the first vacations I’ve allowed myself, not including moving my schedule to accommodate a long weekend. Twenty days would be spent scattered over London, Paris and Berlin. On the tarmac aboard the United flight set for Heathrow, I felt lucky for a moment. The seats next to me sat empty and this redeye would be a breeze. In the final moments of boarding a family with two small children plopped down right next to me and started a continuous process of packing and unpacking from the overhead bin.

Once we reached cruising altitude, the family displayed a fascinating parental dichotomy. In between crying, soothing, holding and sleeping I saw two loving parents present for their children. I didn’t care about the crying or the fussing about. The only thing on my mind was the excitement of touching down in London. During the flight I mentally paid my respects to the family, they tag teamed the hell out of their two children. It was a gift to see them work together and despite the feelings from the other passengers, they held their own.

When we landed, the family and I parted ways in the midst of customs. Arriving in a foreign country always makes me nervous. I have a hidden belief that they’ll find out that my car was repossessed or I might owe taxes for lying about signing up for Obamacare. I was surprised with the UK customs agent. The agent was prideful about London and offered a few places to check out in Shoreditch where I was staying. My major attraction in London was the Tate Modern. For years I had caught whispers from some serious art personalities that their favorite museum is the Tate Modern. Not only did I go once, but I returned during a 24 hour layover before heading back to California.

There was one exhibit in particular that has haunted me for years. Emeka Ogboh’s “The Way Earthly Things Are Going," was featured in the Tanks portion of the museum. Approaching the entrance you could hear a repetitious track luring you in. Inside the chamber, nearly pitch black, the only illumination was from a thin blade of LED lights scanning the global stock market. Several speakers were placed along the perimeter of the tank at equal distance creating perfect symmetry. The song was a chant or a battle cry from the Greek singing group Pleiades - “When I forget, I’m glad.” The tandem singing rings out like a curse. I sat in the darkness unable to see how many others were coming or going. When I closed my eyes I was trying to remember where I heard something similar like this before.

In Baraka, the 1992 documentary masterpiece shot over 30 months, features an unforgettable series of scenes with evocative music to match. In one scene, two donkeys pulling more than their weight make slow progress up a disheveled road. Dead Can Dance, “The Host of Seraphim,” plays as the scene changes to heaps of trash growing in size as groups of people sift through the rejections. The next scenes feature extreme poverty, the other side of living. Then one of the last clips during this song show a group of children being pushed in a wheel barrel as a form of entertainment, they’re seemingly content. Both the art installation and the movie remind me of the depth of life and living on this planet. The vastness of it all. I thought about the family on the plane. I wondered if I would ever see them again. We didn’t interact, but I enjoyed observing them. Watching them rest with their children was a reminder of living in the moment.

When I was in Paris, my friend Pauline’s brother’s friend, Jean Michel, took me to a bar on a boat and we got a little tipsy on La Chouffe, a strong beer. He told me about a place the local gays go to in a park on Sunday. Rosa Bonheur, (the name of the bar) held a wickedly fun party. While Jean Michel and I were there, one of my all-time favorite songs played out, Hercules and The Love Affair - “Blind.” Jean Michel was working his own side-hustle collecting labeled plastic cups for a handful of euros back from the barkeep. “Bitch, give me your cup,” he said lovingly. I wore a newly purchased Margiela jacket to Rosa Bonheur and I was surrounded by gorgeous Parisian men, what a treat. As the party wrapped up, I went back to my cozy flat to pack before flying to Berlin in a few hours.

Berlin was great, but not-so-great at the same time. Everything about Europe was amplified in Berlin. It was colder, darker, and more isolating than the other cities. I could almost feel beneath the topsoil the recent past and everything the city had gone through. The war, the wall and beyond tucked into the fabric that makes up modern Berlin. At the same time, you can feel the resilience of this large city. They built a whole museum to a war they knew they fucked up in. They even left pieces of the Berlin wall as a reminder. I met up with an old crush of mine, Henry. He was kind to take me out to sushi in Berlin, oh la la. I told him about visiting the remaining pieces of the Berlin Wall. He’s old enough to remember what it was like living in East Berlin. As a child he didn’t mind his upbringing and remarked being satisfied with everyone having a similar life to his.

The trip wrapped up with me getting screamed at in the Berlin airport for the amount of 100ml liquids I was attempting to carry on the plane. After the embarrassing kerfuffle I was ready to head home. On the one hand I was content with my vacation and on the other I felt melancholic ending the trip coupled with persistent jet lag. I didn’t realize how much I learned about myself and the world during that time, until now.

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The day after the election was the quietest my neighborhood has been since I moved in. When I walked to work I barely saw anyone on the street. Out of the handful of people I did see, no one was making eye contact. This has been happening all along though, we didn’t need an election to remind us of how disconnected we all are.

The exhibit at the Tate Modern, the kindness of a friend of a friend and a cities noticeable resilience flooded my memory bank. Watching the stocks scan across the thin blade are a reminder of our ties to money and how the global economy is the one to consider, not just our own. I remember Jean Michel teaching me how Parisians lean in to who they truly are. Berlin was where I recollected my time in Europe and I felt less alone in the end. Internally I felt more connected to the world. Despite our differences, a smile, some kindness and an ear to listen are all free.

The dad from the family on the inbound flight to London smiled at me as we landed. Tucked away in his eyes and the creases in his face confirmed we’ll live another day. My observation of this family solidified many things I already believed. Living is a gift, all we have is each other and healing comes when you least expect it.