Jet Lagged in the Jet City
Whoa, I realized I have made a giant semi-circle in a few short days: Phoenix to Cincinnati to Seattle. That’s three time zones in three days, no wonder I feel like I am Neverneverland. Jet lag is more fun when you are in some foreign country and you wander the streets early in the morning in a light haze. Once, I wandered the streets of Tokyo with my old boss (a crazy man who once lived in Tokyo and was reported to be a former CIA agent) at some ungodly early hour. I think he had never gone to bed and was up drinking all night in the Roppingi.
I ate dinner at a great place called Lola’s that’s a few blocks from the hotel. The food was awesome and in a Middle Eastern/semi-Mediterranean manner. I have had food in Israel, and I must say this was a better version. But then again, they don’t get fresh halibut in Israel.
As much as I dislike Seattle, it has some things in its favor. The food here is wonderful; maybe not as good as Northern California (stone fruits, heirloom tomatoes…) but great seafood and young, very innovative chefs. Actually, the dining scene is far more advanced than when we bolted the Jet City in 1989. Also, it is a great art town. This is where we began our art collection and the gallery that represents Royal Nebbeker is in the Pike Place Market. I saw some cool art at the airport and at Lola’s. But what I think is cool might be disturbing (might be?) to others.
Lastly, I must report a problem with my prized watch. I bought an unusually extravagant gift for myself in Dec. 1999 in the form of a Gerald Genta watch. I will not say how much it cost; you can click here to look up the prices. It’s a “jump” watch, which has a mechanism in which the hours appear in a small window at the bottom of the face and the hour hand sits above. I first saw it in a shop window in Paris where the snotty proprietor wouldn’t even give me the time of day (ha ha). We bought it in Singapore on our way to a vacation in Koh Samui, Thailand. Anyway, there was an incident at our home involving my daughter and our former dog, Zulu, in which the watch fell on the floor. My daughter said the dog did it. The dog was a Doberman, so he didn’t really need to say anything. A trip to the repair shop and a few hundred bucks later, the watch was sort of working again. That was two years ago—now the hours do not progress right especially from 9 to 10 and 11 to 12. Not good.