EastGirlsWest

Les Simpsons

So when The Simpsons Movie opened last week, it wasn’t just released in the U.S. While most films are distributed internationally after the domestic launch, The Simpsons Movie “premiered simultaneously on millions of screens worldwide. And while the film took in $72 million in the U.S. over the weekend, the foreign take was in excess of $100 million.”

The film’s promotion was inescapable in France last month. The photo above wasn’t taken in Paris - but a tiny, quiet town near the Pyrenees called Mazamet. (I walked amost every street in the central village and didn’t even see a movie theatre.)

So why do they love Homer so far away from home? Well, funny is funny in any language, and our Simpsons are nothing short of hilarious. Another theory: our European friends adore the way “The Simpsons” mocks America, holding up a funhouse mirror to our politics and pop culture as we laugh and laugh and beg for more. If you’ve seen the movie, the scenes in the White House say it all.

I finally saw it last night, and think I’ll be singing “Spider Pig” for weeks to come.

Left Banker

Are up on my Flickr site. They’re not great, but they prove we were there.

Which makes me a duck and cheese filled croissant drizzled in chocolate and a rich butter sauce, with a side of frites, a bottle of wine and a beef tart with more cheese on it for dessert. (this explains my previous post)

People keep asking how our honeymoon was. To which I reply:

“Food, wine, sex and scenery.”

Sometimes adding, “not necessarily in that order.”

Since my mother AND mother-in-law read this blog, I’ll skip writing about all the hot honeymoon sex. And the scenery? I mean, it was outstanding. But how many ways can I describe the beauty of an endless field of blooming sunflowers? Or the charm of a fairytale medieval village nestled in the hills? See, I just did.

The reasonable cost, wide availability and uniformly delicious taste of modest, local wines is one of the treats of France. And if my sister joined us on our honeymoon she’d have kept a wine diary, recording the vineyard, region, grape varieties and tasting notes of each bottle. There would be words like “plummy, smoky and cherry.” Maybe “soft tannins and a fruity finish,” or even “cedar aroma and medium body.” She also would have stoppped me from eating that sixth macaroon, but that’s another story.

Much to The Husband’s delight, my sister was NOT with us on our honeymoon. So I am limited in my ability to describe the Bacchanalian beverage I overindulged in. My summary might be:

Damn that was some good wine! Especially when combined with a block of gruyere, confit de canard, hot honeymoon sex and a walk through the cobblestone streets of a charming 15th century town.

Not necessarily in that order.

While we savored many gastronomic feasts, I can’t say there was one meal or dish that warrants exhalting above all others. From the street cart crepes to the duck carpaccio at Lard et Bouchon, it all made me sigh with delight and satisfaction. Really, any place with the word “lard” in the name has GOT to be good. Can you imagine that flying here in Southern California?

Now, back to the elliptical. Because currently, the lard and the wine seem to be preparing to settle in for awhile and make themselves comfortable on my thighs.

Loosely translated: East Girl France.

The Husband and I are off to honeymoon in the country that is currently hosting a big bicycle race. We’ll make a quick stop in Dublin first for another PBS-related concert shoot, then off to Nice where we pick up our tiny rental car. The itinerary is a drive clockwise - with stops on the coast, in Provence, Albi, Bourdeaux and Paris. We’ll occasionally check in on the quest for the yellow jersey, and frequently eat baked goods and drink wine.

We leave tomorrow morning, and the current plan is to bring one laptop (we’ll rochambeau later to decide which one). Not sure if I’ll have time to blog, because this is to be a romatic vacation that will consist primarily of gazing into each other’s eyes. Regardless, I’ll be taking photos and notes, and you can expect a full report upon my return (July 30) if not sooner.

Vive la France!

“Wow. It really sucks that you had to fly all the way back from the Holy Land and go straight to Costco.” - Tay, on Tuesday

That pretty much says it all. Of course, I’m tortured I only saw but one corner of the Holy Land, but it was an adventure. I mean, I didn’t ride on a camel or anything, but I did SEE a lot of camels. And Bedouin. Their tent dwellings are strewn randomly across the monochromatic desert hills. I also had to face up to my fear of heights for the sake of the perfect shot. Hello, stopped tram, hundreds of feet in the air, swinging in the wind. And no problem, steep stairs, dropping down a cliff face descending into nowhere. I am a glamorous, adventurous and brave television talent! I will traipse across the mountain smiling mysteriously while my head scarf stays perfectly in place!

I experienced a level of airport security in Tel Aviv that I didn’t know existed. Perhaps I had a bullseye on my forehead I was unaware of? After the 25 minute interview, in which I had to work extremley hard to explain what PBS is and how public television works, me and my carry on bags were sent to swab purgatory. Every single item in my two bags was removed, swabbed, and inspected. During this time, I was asked to turn off my laptop. Remove the battery. Replace the battery. Turn it on. Launch an application. Repeat. In between each round of this exercise, they would take the laptop away to some secret, out-of-sight room on the other side of the terminal. Leaving me to remain in the swab zone, silently hyperventilating because SOMEONE JUST WALKED AWAY WITH MY LAPTOP. Explaining how upsetting that is involves explaining how attached I am to my laptop, which is frankly too embarrassing.

They eventually decided to let me through the 5,627 additional layers of security and onto the plane, where I learned what the worst part of a 12 hour flight in coach is (hint: it’s not the legroom). My friends, I’m here to tell you the condition of the bathrooms after a half-day in the air are not fit for humans. Wondering why the floor is sticky? Let the distinct odor of the 3×3 space be your answer. How can that many people (and by that, I mean men) miss the toilet? It was NOT a turbulent flight.

Camels

It’s strange to find myself in a place where there are camels just wandering around.

On our drive to Masada yesterday, I saw a hillside dotted with about 25. There was a young boy herding them, and he’d throw small rocks at their backsides to move them in the right direction.

Tay and I have a phrase, or rather a phrase structure, that we like to use when we’re being definitive about something. For example, while the onset of sleepiness may be expressed as such, true exhaustion merits the declaration “I’m tired like tired.” A particularly fine meal is “delicious like delicious.” And occasionally, the phrase will feature a noun rather than an adjective to highlight a particulary urgency, as in “I need wine like wine.”

So Tay emailed me yesterday to ask, “Is it hot like hot?”. To which I could only reply, “It’s hottest like hottest.”

I now feel there can never be enough of the following items:
1) SPF
2) Bottled water
3) Light cotton fibers to protect one from the sun and absorb sweat from the body

I can’t really complain though, because while I did spend a fair amount of time outdoors yesterday, the nature of my duties here allowed me to spend many hours in the air conditioned (ish) dining tent. The crew, on the other hand, has spent four days building the set, the production control room, and everything else on site from scratch. They’ve put up lighting, set up cameras and cables, unpacked loads of equipment. In the heat. All day. Every half hour or so they would come into the tent and grab two bottles of water, pour one over their head, and drink the other. I’m in awe of their perseverance.

We were at the site until 11pm last night, and right before rehearsal a dust storm kicked up. Winds were battering the tent, convincing us all we’d be lying under a pile of canvas and metal rigging in no time. Walking outside required - I’m not kidding - sunglasses at night. Dust in nostrils, eyeballs, hair and every possible crevice of clothing. Mouth closed. I just tried to pretend it was all very The English Patient and I was Kristin Scott Thomas (not a problem for me to immerse myself in that fanstasy).

But despite the heat and the wind, it is beautiful there. This particular corner of the Judean desert is stark and gaunt, monumental and very impressive. It’s a grand setting for tonight’s show.

Sunrise Over the Dead Sea

You knew that headline was coming.

I woke up at 4:15 this morning and sat outside my room on the balcony, looking out across the water. Those mountains the sun is coming over? That’s Jordan.

A few hours later I walked across the street with some colleagues, and we floated in the salty sea. Round pebbles of salt cover the bottom, and it’s true about the floating. Impossible not to - we laughed at the need for the lifeguard surveying the little beach we left our towels on. We also spashed around like true tourists, laughing and squealing at our inabilty to stay vertical in the water.

My skin has never felt as soft since I got out. The entire experience was so strange, so impossible…I understand why people think the sea has healing power.

Next on the agenda today is a site survey with my producer and cameraman. We’re heading to Masada at high noon, and have been told it was 124 degrees there yesterday. It’s already suffocatingly hot here next to the water and I can’t imagine what awaits us on the mountain.

I’m leaving town tomorrow for Israel, to do my PBS pledge thing for this concert, featuring the talented David Broza with Jackson Browne and - one of my favorites - Shawn Colvin (her cover of the Tom Waits song ‘The Heart of Saturday Night’ slays me every time). In fact, I’m hoping to get to interview Jackson and Shawn on camera. Which will be perfect, since clearly I’m already on a first-name basis with each of them.

We’ll be shooting live on location, and I just heard it’s approximately 800 gazillion degrees at this exact spot in the desert. I wonder if it was that hot when the Jewish-Roman war was fought there? Also, I will be spending 300 gazillion hours on a plane to get to this parched piece of earth. But really? I don’t care because I’M GOING TO ISRAEL.

In the meantime, life does not stop here in San Diego (GASP). Dave Hampton (who is one of those people who can only be referred to by first and last name) is holding another fantastic Objects USA event this weekend with his partners Ron and Steve. Titled Summer Survey, the highlight of this event will no doubt be the insane, bizarre, beautiful, puzzling, intriguing and just plain out there body ornaments, showcasing a unique facet of California Design. I have it on good authority that live models will be draped and adorned with these…pieces. Some of which involve bird skulls. Don’t miss it.

As for the weekdays: if you’re looking for an addictive addition to your daily blog rounds, if you are perhaps lusting for something new, then check this out. Producer, photographer and culture junkie Angela Carone has got one helluva platform for her musings and recommendations - which are always worth reading.

More soon from points east.

In the Phoenix airport. On a layover, nearing the end of a long, exhausting day of planes, trains and automobiles.

I decide to treat myself to frozen yogurt, and approach the TCBY counter. The man working there looks up at me with surprise and then something bordering recognition. I smile.

“Oh, hello!”

“Hi. Can I please have a small vanilla chocolate swirl?”

“Of course.” He starts to turn away, then pauses and looks at me again. “So, are you in town to shoot a film?”

“Excuse me?”

“Here, in Phoenix. Are you making a new movie?”

“Um, no. I’m not…”

“It’s okay. It’s cool. I know who you are.” He winks conspiratorially.

“Actually, I’m pretty sure you don’t.”

He puts my yogurt into a cup, then a spoon, and hands it to me. He’s smiling the whole time, pleased to be in on the secret of my identity, which is now a mystery to even me.

I pay. And put some change in the tip cup. Smile again.

“Thanks so much.”

“You too. Travel safe, and good luck with your next movie!”