By Day 1: Security at American airports
“Well… I need to see your passport,” said the lady at the Transportation Security Administration (TSA) at the Long Beach Airport.
Her tone was friendly but authoritative, but her outstretched hand would remain empty because Lena, the 24-year-old German student, did not have her passport with her.
“She is with us,” Debbie said.
The lady in uniform turned to Debbie. “Can I see your ID please?”
Nervously she got one ID after another out of her purse but none of them was a valid ID. Finally she got it.
“Here it is!”
The smile on her face lasted for exactly three seconds when the uniformed lady cut it off.
“Well, your ID is expired! You cannot travel with an expired ID!”
“She is my twin sister,” said Danita, Debbie’s twin and Lena’s roommate.
After showing all kinds of ID cards, including her Health Plan and AAA cards, to prove her identity and a warning from the supervisor that the German student should not travel without her passport, Lena and the Kurtz twins finally got through the security check in, waiting for their 4:44 p.m. flight to San Francisco.
“I have seat B. What seat do you have?” Debbie asked.
“I have seat B too – that’s impossible! We cannot have the same seat!” Lena exclaimed.
But worse than having the same seat, there was the same name, Helene Harder, on both tickets. Isn’t it ridiculous that you can get through the security checkpoint with TSA being concerned about an expired ID, but nobody mentions that both tickets had the same name?
Day 2: “Wine is a human experience!”
“You are welcome!” Danita said.
The 50-year old blonde woman with soft curls in her hair and friendly blue eyes invited the German student for a trip to Napa Valley and San Francisco for a weekend. Lena, who was just visiting for one semester as an exchange student at Cal State Long Beach was more than happy to get the chance to see a different part of California. As an Art and Media Science major and an international student, she was specifically interested in cultural experiences. Napa and San Francisco would provide a cultural experience.
The breakfast plate with two eggs, potatoes, toast and sausage (which was unusually flat) at a restaurant in downtown Napa was nearly finished when a black stretch-limousine parked in front of the restaurant. Mike, the driver, entered the room to order some food. He wore black leather gloves, black patent leather shoes, black trousers with a white shirt and black sunglasses. The two big bling-bling earrings in his right ear twinkled as much as his white teeth. It didn’t take him long to notice the German student.
“Your blonde hair matches your brown eyes perfectly!” he said to Lena.
His voice seemed to become deeper than when he ordered his food but at the same time a little weak.
“Here is my card. Call me whenever you want to have some champagne and to take a ride in the limo,” he said with a winning smile.
On this perfect day, Dec. 4, the sun was shining in Napa but a cold wind made visitors zip up their jackets. Down the street, there was a group of men walking in a circle, kicking up the colored leaves in front of a construction site. They were shouting words that the German student could not understand. Their signs carried the letters:
“GRASSI CONSTRUCTION INC
FAIL TO PAY
WAGES AND ECONOMIC BENEFITS
ESTABLISHED BY CARPENTERS IN THIS AREA
LOCAL # 751
WE DO NOT SEEK RECOGNITION”
“We move from construction site to construction site demonstrating against the unjust working conditions,” Brandon Cooper said.
Nervously he twitched at his cap. When asked why they were not on the streets, he said, “No, it is forbidden to demonstrate on the street. You have to stay in front of the construction site.”
This type of protest was something new to the German student. In Germany there are often demonstrations against anything: protests against the war in Afghanistan, tax raises, abortion, the current government and also against bad working conditions. People would go on the street to demonstrate. Freedom of demonstration is one of the rights in German basic law. Everybody can demonstrate everywhere as long as it’s approved. How many people do these workers reach with their protests by staying in front of a small construction site, hidden in a side street of the Napa shopping arcade?
Remember, the day was perfect. What made this day perfect? How could this be considered a perfect day when it had only just begun?
“I have a feeling that this is going to be a perfect day,” Lena said when she left Annette’s Chocolate shop. She still had the taste of a slowly melting soft brown chocolate truffle praline with pieces of hazelnut on her tongue.
In front of her were wide-open fields of empty grapevines – the last harvest for the year 2009 was on Oct. 31. A dark and convex ridge surrounded the golden landscape. In the air there lay a smooth smell of autumn leaves and the sweet aroma of decaying grape leaves. Napa Valley lies north of the San Francisco Bay Area in California where the climate is similar to the Mediterranean – perfect for growing grapes and to turn them into the one of the world’s best wines. They especially grow the varietal grapes, along with the Cabernet Sauvignon, Zinfandel and Chardonnay.
A small road leads the visitors toward a big wrought-iron gate, passing by a half-hidden monastery. If you would close your eyes just for a moment and spin around a few times and open your eyes again, what would you see? You’d probably believe yourself to be in La Provence in France or in Italian Toscana.
“Welcome to Far Niente, the Napa Valley Wine Estate since 1885!” said the tour guide with a big smile.
He was a smart man in his mid 50’s with a half-balding head. His appearance was very English, his warm and open smile was very American. You could see right away that he was someone who had the Napa spirit. He led the visitors into the treasure of the traditional winery and let them take a glimpse of the secrets of wine production. When Lena entered the wine cave, she was immediately embraced by an incredible aromatic smell. Together with the smell of the wooden barrels made of 200-year-old French oak wood, she inhaled nuances of Truchard Chardonnay, a Suscol Ranch Merlot, Sullenger Cabernet, Cabernet Sauvignon and the sweet smell of their most famous dessert wine called Dolce.
“Wine is a human experience!” said the guide meaningfully.
The nuances of smells mingled together to make a strong and, at the same time, a soft flowery and herbal aroma that infused her clothes, her hair and every pore of her skin. This indescribable bouquet can overwhelm your senses of sweet lingering smells. The wine made her crave more, like the fruit flies in the soft light of the caves looking for the sugar that they cannot easily find.
Far Niente, which means the same as easy going or doing nothing, kept its promise. There was this smell that embraced the whole winery and the whole valley and made you feel a rush of fragrances, protected like a child and free like a bird, far away from any sorrows. Yes, it was a perfect day that ended with a delicious crab fest dinner held at the Yountville Community Center. It just couldn’t get any better.
“Napa Valley is my spot of heaven on earth,” Lena whispered, satisfied.
Day 3: Bed and breakfast tour and s’mores
The next day the wine tasting went on. Twelve of Napa’s bed and breakfast inns opened their doors to the public. At each stop on the tour, visitors would find offerings of food and wines from innkeepers and local wineries and restaurants. Besides that there also was some entertainment at each inn that ranged from the acclaimed Napa High School Choir to jazz quartets.
The architectural style, size and décor of the houses were very diverse and rich in different facets, but they all were decorated for Christmas in looming colors and twinkling lights everywhere. The sty
les ranged from traditional gingerbread to urban chic, reflecting their histories and owners’ individual flair.
Lena found herself in a big bedroom, made up in a Victorian style with big wooden framed pictures on the wall and a bunch of pillows with embroidery on the cantilevered bed. She sat down in a pin-up pose on the antique wooden box in front of the bed, flashing a tempting smile to the camera.
“You have to send this picture to your boyfriend in Germany and tell him that this is going to be your honeymoon suite!” said Danita rapturously.
Yes, it was nice and it felt again so easy going, so far from stressing everyday life.
While people enjoyed a piano player’s Christmas songs in the comfy living room, it pulled Lena upstairs to the silent and more hidden rooms. She was not in the mood for Christmas songs. Without the usual snow they had in Germany somehow it didn’t feel like Christmas in sunny California.
Under a little Christmas tree there lay a book titled “The Slow Down Book” written by Jessel Miller. Was it the wine or maybe the memory of her family that she would not see this year on Christmas for the first time in her life? The first lines of the book pulled her into a deep, melancholy, thoughtful mood.
Stop Before the Bough Breaks
While racing down a country lane,
Faster than a speeding train,
I heard two Angeles in my ear
They said “Sweet thing come over here.”
“This constant rushing is not good.
You need to rest – you know you should.”
I laughed and said I could not stop.
Art to create and floors to mop.
People to see and places to go,
Calls to be made, no time to go slow.
Didn’t they understand my plight,
Working to make all wrong right?
Lena was the racing car driver and the two angels raised their wine glasses to her whispering, “Slow down, slow down!” And they were right. It was the German student’s first time in America ever and she’d spent the whole semester working very hard for school and just a little free time. Even at that moment she felt regrets that she’d agreed to go on this weekend trip instead of learning for school. Sometimes she would just like to escape, following the butterflies…San Francisco seemed to be within her grasp. “If there still is this hippy spirit?” she asked herself.
In the evening Danita’s friend Tracy had invited them to her 50th birthday party. There were many guests in the house and the air was filled with laughter, chatting, congratulations and jazz music. Again there was this indescribable sweet lingering smell that had followed them from the winery.
The fireplace in the backyard looked inviting. The smoke of her cigarette mingled with the flared flames.
“Isn’t it just like in the times of the Hitlerjugend?” a Robert DeNiro-looking man said, gazing curiously in the Lena’s direction.
“Excuse me?” she responded. “I don’t know how it was in the Hitlerjugend. I am another generation.”
The past will never be forgotten but why do even the following generations of Germans have to carry the stigma of fascism, the heritage of a cruel area that they never will get rid of.
To reconcile, he handed her some marshmallows, chocolate and crackers and showed her how to make s’mores.
Day 4: If you’re going to San Francisco be sure to wear some flowers in your hair
What for France is the Eifel Tower and for London is the Tower Bridge for San Francisco is the Golden Gate Bridge. It connects the 1.5-kilometer long narrows between the peninsula of San Francisco and Marin County. Its name comes from the red-orange coat of paint that looms in a golden glimmer the most in a dusky evening light.
The wind was cold, unlike how the weather in California usually is. But San Francisco is known for its unsettled weather. Mark Twain once said, “The coolest summer day I’ve ever spent was a summer day in San Francisco.”
Lena’s hair blows into her face. From the platform she could overlook the bay with the little Alcatraz Island in the middle and the beautiful and proud silhouette of a city that was encircled by a mystical inviting aura.
“No, come closer to this side, no…a little bit more to the left – yes that’s perfect. And now smile, smiiiile.”
These tourists just cut all sense of romance and infinity. Lena did not realize that she was just one of them, going to see all the tourists’ attractions of San Francisco and taking pictures just like they did.
On her list were The Golden Gate Bridge, Fisherman’s Wharf, Pier 39 and Ghirardelli Square, Alcatraz, Union Square, Cable Cars, Chinatown, Lombard, Coit Tower, Sausalito and Cliff House. At the end of the day she would have seen almost five of these and she had to admit to herself that it’s impossible to do it all in one day. “Slow down, slow down.” The angels whispered again in her head.
When Lena walked past a rhododendron bush, she ripped some red flowers from it and suddenly she remembered this great hippy culture hymn from Scott McKenzie that had become a cult status in the love and peace generation. In the lyrics it says, “If you’re going to San Francisco be sure to wear some flowers in your hair.”
And there Lena stood in front of a traditional cable car – a young woman with these red looming flowers in her blond hair and right at that moment she felt a piece of that freedom that was described in the song. She had caught a little bit of that long-gone hippy spirit that still was in this city somewhere buried under a large layer of tourism and urban consumers that she could watch at the Union Square. Lena felt that she had to come back to discover more of it.
Fisherman’s Wharf looked just like Hamburg, her home city in Germany. Big fishing boats brought fresh fish from the bay to the land and it was processed right there in the many seafood restaurants. Shrieking sea gulls fought for a fallen piece of burger.
“Am I home or am I on the other side of the world?” Lena asked. “San Francisco feels just like home,” she yelled with a big smile.
Day 5: “Who said that it never rains in southern California?”
Lena didn’t feel any fear when the plane left San Francisco airport on this cloudy Monday morning of Dec. 7. Her fear of flying was gone, unlike the memories of Pearl Harbor that many people commemorated this day.
Long Beach welcomed the home comers with a heavy shower that would not stop for the whole day.
“Who said that it never rains in southern California?” Lena said.
But she would not have to pray to know that tomorrow there would be bright sunshine again.
Back in her room she sat down to write her memories of this more than impressive weekend trip. Unconsciously she moved her fingers through her hair and for a moment she guessed that she still could smell a bit of the sweet aromatic Napa wine in it.
