I Dreamed of California

"You should write about your travels."

Clemen Castro frowned at me from across a cafeteria table at the Getty Museum in Los Angeles. Nine months earlier I would never have dreamed I'd be discussing life over lattes, killing time with him before a Rossetti String Quartet concert. Our first meeting should have foreshadowed something musical:

"Play this song with me. It's in E minor. Can you do that?"
"Sure. You start, I'll follow."

So I started this post Nov. 14, but only just finished today, Nov. 24. Some writer am I! Life is but a dream, escaping too quickly...

 It's Wednesday night and I'm back in Winnipeg, back to reality. A week ago I flew to Los Angeles, initially to realize an idea: to collaborate with a talented musician I met briefly in Manila last winter. The end result: discovering family I didn't know I had, and sharing some amazing experiences with someone who is now one of my closest friends living across the world. Though some of my friends live as far away as Germany, The Netherlands, France, Spain, Austria, Sweden, Denmark, Columbia, Mexico, Manila or Singapore they have all shared with me precious moments in time that I will never forget.

The idea:

"We should collaborate."
"Yes, I would love to."

Months later:

"I'll be visiting family in LA."
"That's closer to Winnipeg than Manila - what if I fly down and jam with you?"
"Hey, we have a plan! And I got us a gig."

"Mom, I'm going to LA."
"Call your dad's cousins and tell them you'll be in town."
"We have family IN Los Angeles?!?"

"Come and stay with me, dear, and meet the family!"
"Okay, Aunt Jean!"

Wow.

I landed, found Aunt Jean, lost my luggage, texted Clemen. We collected him from a street corner and went to camp out at Aunt Jean's place for a few days so we could practice for our Friday gig.

Jean's son Jim, his wife, and their son came over and we practiced some more. I've never met such a family-loving, outgoing 13-year-old! Or such warm and welcoming cousins who opened their hearts and homes to total strangers!

From Canada to California: there will always be Mazur Sisters!

Thursday, more practice after a leisurely breakfast with Aunt Jean. We hammered out a set list and recorded a couple tunes on a Zoom H4n I'd borrowed from a friend: Clem's own Canto de Maria Clara (words by Jose Rizal), and Someone I Know by Margo Guryan. That evening while waiting for my cousin Bill to take us to a concert, I made an important discovery: my musical friend is also a master chess player!

Looks harmless but there's a bloody medieval battle going on!

The score was one all by the time Bill made it home to take us to the Honda Center in Anaheim.

The artist, Eric Church, had just won Album of the Year at the CMAs for Chief, which features songs with mysterious, obscure lyrics like "Jack Daniels kicked my ass again last night." I made a mental note to tell the mother of my teenaged violin student, that her daughter's hero is a whiskey-swilling, gun-toting, smoker of herbal...uhm...essences: "You know you're at a great concert," he said, "when you step out on stage to do a solo acoustic set and all you can smell is weed."

The concert was an interesting people-watching exercise but the musicians were phenomenal: the guitarist competently melted faces while striking Iron Maiden-style poses, and the bassist bounced around on Doc Martens looking like a post-punk New Waver. The banjo player stood motionless, playing the crap out of the one instrument that kept the whole concert firmly rooted in good ol' country. Very solid, very good music!

Friday morning we toured the Capital Records building where Bill works. He kindly showered us with gifts of CDs and vinyl, and toured us through the major recording studios. We drooled over the immense sound boards and other high-end recording equipment. While we wandered through the large studio where the likes of Frank Sinatra once recorded with orchestras, staff were setting up for a press conference to announce the release of all 14 digitally remastered Beatles albums. Very exciting, especially for my Beatles aficionado friend.

On leaving, we wandered down Hollywood Boulevard vaguely in the direction of the Chinese Theatre, but our nerdy heads turned like homing devices, when we passed what turned out to be the modern art gallery, LACE. 

We escaped downtown L.A. before rush hour and had time to run through our music once more before heading out for Little Tokyo and the 2nd Street Jazz Club.

Ready to...play music. 

The crowd was really young and each of the three bands ahead of us had their own drum kit to set up and dismantle. Apprehensive, we wandered out for Starbuck's and to psyche ourselves up for our set. We knew we'd be completely different from anything else being played there. All indie rock bands, then us, a mellow acoustic duo of guitar, violin, and soft voices.

After a solid set from Brit-pop trio Far*Out (a tough act to follow!), much of the first crowd turned over to Clem's friends and my family members: Aunt Jean, Jim, and Tina. I was so glad they came - it was like being at home in a strange city for me, having supportive family in the audience!

I plugged into an on-stage amp and was too quiet at first until one of the audience members kindly told me to turn up. Despite a few mistakes that friends swear they didn't notice, we turned in a respectable performance given the few days of practice, and ended with quite a solid rendition of Just Like Heaven by The Cure. Other songs in the set included The Camerawalls originals by Clementine:
 - Bread and Circuses
 - My Life's Arithmetic Means
 - Wake up to the Sight of Love
 - Canto de Maria Clara
We threw in a cover of The Smiths' Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want, the Margo Guryan cover, Someone I Know, and I attempted the folk song, The Water is Wide.

A mandatory post-gig dinner was scavenged from the sushi place next door, fuel for a long Saturday of art-gazing at the Getty.

The Getty

The Getty Gardens

Sculpture of child martyr Saint Cyrucus (1470-1480)
by Francesco Laurana (1420-1502)

15th Century Latin Gradual

Head of a Woman ~1654 by Michael Sweerts, Flemish (1618-1664)

Side Table, Italian, ~1670. Attributed to Johann Paul Schor, Austrian, 1615-1674. 

Exhausted art-lover, early 21st century.

The Getty Museum is one of those amazing places you can spend the whole day at. We were lucky enough to be there the day of one of its concerts: The Rossetti String Quartet performed Haydn (Op. 50 No. 1), Shostakovich (Op. 108), and Beethoven (No. 10 E maj, "The Harp"), the favourite composers of Chicago photographer Ray K. Metzker whose work was on display.

Back at Aunt Jean's, we prepared for Clem's first hiking trip in who knows how long: Joshua Tree National Park, renowned for the strange, twisted trees that caught the imaginations and obsessions of U2 in the time leading up to their famous album of the same name. So excited were we on arriving at our first hike that we forgot water, food, and map, but caught some amazing photos, finishing the day with a glimpse of sunset.

Split Rock

Tulip Rock

Along the main road, Joshua Tree National Park.

Sunset at Keys View Lookout.

Monday, our last day of adventuring, we filled with a variety: Hidden Valley where rustlers hid stolen cattle and - surely - experienced an amazing landscape. We capitulated with a summit of Lost Horse Mountain on a trail that included a stop at an historic gold mine.

Climbing wall in Hidden Valley.

Lost Horse Mine

Local resident: antelope squirrel.

Mojave.

Summit, Lost Horse Mountain

Top of this corner of the world.

Parting ways we set out for separate futures, mine leading to a wonderful dinner with my dad's large and boisterous extended family.

Just as I know I'll see my new-found family again, I will see Clemen and my other far-flung friends. For me, travel is not just to go, buy a t-shirt, take some photos, go home with nice memories and a tan. I travel to accomplish a purpose, to develop and deepen relationships, to influence a life change, be it my own or someone else's.

Now I'm grounded once again...until next time!