Teeth, the Tate and Touring

So I might be trying too hard with the alliteration but it works. Somehow. In that order too.

The week has been an ordeal with a bit of emergency dental surgery. But I muscle through it and decide to take a trip down to SFMOMA to see the Matisse/Diebenkorn exhibit. I have been to SFMOMA once all those years ago and liked it. And I like Matisse. So I jump at the chance to go even though I don't know much about Diebenkorn and I have just had surgery.

I wasn't quite sure what to expect but I enjoy (most of) it. The pain and tiredness aren't fun but like I said, muscle through it (anything to be in the city!). I didn't see the similarities between Diebenkorn and Matisse much but later on, I could see Diebenkorn's work coming to the forefront. He adored Matisse though never having met him and the influence is evident. However, I thought Diebenkorn's work came into its own when he wasn't trying to be like Matisse. I like his work when it was all on its own and no (obvious) influence of Matisse could be seen. But hey, what do I know? I am not an art critic, nor have I studied art. I just love wandering the hallways of galleries and museums. I am sure many would disagree with what I have just said, but that's what my first impressions are.

I can't help but compare. I saw Matisse at the Tate. I love the space at the Tate, and it just doesn't compare. I haven't had time to love the SFMOMA just yet. But I wander through to the 4th floor, then the 5th and then the 6th. And I think, there is more to this narrow brick building. Little hidden cubby holes and stairs that lead to more. Down the rabbit hole? Or up the witches' lair?

It is crowded, filling in the last few days of the exhibition before it ends on Monday. It is Friday and there are droves out to see this well advertised exhibition. I bite my tongue and make it through. Later on I find a balcony on the second floor, a wall of green, sculptures and two one way street signs. I am cheered by what I see, the wall of green brings a smile to my face and rest to my weary jaw (and feet).

I guess it isn't much of a trip to the city this time. I usually enjoy it a lot more but it is a long wait for the Bart and there are a lot of homeless people out. I feel bad, it reflects on me; I don't know how to act and I don't know what to do. I want to avoid them completely, I don't know how to help, I don't know how to make it better for them. I hurt I ache, I don't want to know.

Two days of sleeping. I collapse into a heap and I don't go anywhere. Then suddenly on Sunday, I feel better. H asks if I want to go to Alice's Restaurant and I go for a long ride in the sun up to Portola Valley through the winding roads up the hill and end up at Woodside. A biker's haven, a cyclists' rest space. Alice's Restaurant (http://www.alicesrestaurant.com/) serves as a resting place for bikers and cyclists. An old fashioned gas station (called Alice's Gas Station) sits next door. You know it's touristy when they are selling t-shirts. A lot of touring bikes stop here, the bikers in the their leather gear, headbands and sunglasses. Porsches and Maserattis fill the place too.


The breakfast menu is extensive, and so is lunch. We go early and thankfully we did. It is packed by the time we leave which is only 11.00am. The dungness crab benedict is lovely and the Belgian waffles with fruit and fresh cream ((lots and lots of it) are absolutely out of this world. Breakfast burritos for the geekie men go down a treat.




All that is lovely, but what I love best is the ride back. The sun shining through the Redwoods, we drive back down the winding road and I look up, seeing the green pass by. I stop for a moment and snap a picture. It stays with me, more than the stock photo I take of Alice. It seems to frame up nicely, my Alice in Wonderland lifestyle at the moment. I catch glimpses of my former life, mistaking people for the ones I knew back in the UK. Doppleganger type situation, I peep round the corner and I think I see people I once knew only to do a double take and realise it isn't them. It's funny, I have flash backs when I least expect it. So touring round Northern California, my neighbourhood, so wildly different to London is soothing. The green and the sunlight make me feel at home.