You beauty, mate

June!  Where the hell did you come from?  Caught up with some Melburnians over the last week.  Bridge, it was so good to see you.  She was in San Diego for 5 days for work, so I drove down on Wednesday afternoon.  Theoretically, one can drive from LA to San Diego in a little over 2 hours; that would be if nobody else is on the road and you can do the speed limit the whole way.  Ha!  After two hours driving in bumper to bumper traffic I was not even halfway there and slowly going insane.  When you're on a freeway with 6 lanes in each direction and the traffic is so heavy you never get above 20 miles per hour - and that only in spurts - you know you're living in a big city with a LOT of cars.  Thankfully, shortly after the 2 hour mark, the traffic thinned out (and perhaps the freeway got a little wider, too) and I was able to hit the 65mph speed limit the rest of the way.  All up, the trip took 3.5 hours.  I felt very bleary by the time I reached the cute little hotel in Del Mar where Bridge was staying.  Still, nothing like seeing a dear friend for the first time in 8 months to perk up one's spirits.  We set off for the evening to the Hotel Del Coronado, a really beautiful old hotel on an island just a short trip across a bridge from downtown San Diego.  We were so hungry by the time we got there that we just headed straight for the wine bar and didn't stop to take any photos along the way.  In fact, I left my camera back in Del Mar anyway.  A small regret; it would have been nice to get some happy snaps of us with that magnificent hotel in the background.  For those of you unfamiliar with the place, it was where the classic film Some Like It Hot was shot.  Here's a link to the website so you can appreciate its gloriousness:

Hotel Del Coronado

I vow to return and stay a few nights!  Of course, I'll have to be rich in order to do that.  Or dating someone rich, that could work.  Maybe I should take up pole dancing, apparently those girls make hundreds per night.  One can but dream.  But back to Wednesday night.  The bar - called Eno (as in oenophile, presumably) - had a special deal on food; everything 50% off.  The food choice wasn't broad but it was very appealing; cheese platters, marinated olives, charcuterie platter, chocolate.  Sounds like a balanced meal to me!  We ordered one of each plus a flight of champagne and another of pinot noir to share.  Each flight contained 3 x half-glasses of wine from different regions.  The bubbles were all very good, but I can't recall where they were from; wait, maybe I can.  One from France, one from Germany (I think), one from California.  The pinot's had one outstanding winner, while the other two were pleasant but forgettable.  The standout was Thorne, from the Santa Rita hills outside of Santa Barbara.  I don't recall which vintage.  For the oenophiles out there, here's a link to the company website:

http://thornewine.com/wine.html

At the bar we got chatting with a woman, who, hearing our accents, naturally couldn't resist talking to us.  Such is the power and charm of the Australian accent.  Well, she was lovely - and also indulging in the Thorne Pinot Noir - and we found ourselves having quite an in-depth discussion about relationships, career goals and the pressure on women (much of which we put on ourselves) to retain the appearance of youth (as in equalling beauty in this youth-obsessed culture), pressure many begin to feel acutely as we approach our forties.  Our American companion was in her mid-40s so this is something she is experiencing and has observed amongst her friends, and indeed I too have friends broaching the big four-oh and considering a touch of botox in the forehead.  No!!! I cry.  It's a slippery slope; where does it end?  There are so many freaky looking women walking around with frozen faces who seem to have lost all sense of normalcy.  Actors, especially, I think should resist botox and extreme cosmetic surgery; yes, they are under the microscope and blown up on huge screens in HD magnifying their every imperfection - I understand the pressure - but by freezing their faces, through which, frankly, 90% of a screen performance is expressed, they are diminishing their most important tool.  Cate Blanchett once described wrinkles thus: they are the songlines of your body.  Botox is a short term, illusory solution to an inevitable change.  You can't hide your age forever, and there comes a point when you simply look weird - if not absurd - trying to do so.  All hail ageing beauties (and phenomenal actresses, to boot) such as Helen Mirren and Meryl Streep!

The next Melburnian in town was Kelly, another green card recipient, who stopped in LA for a few days en route to Chicago where she's going to study improv with Second City.  She and her boyfriend had been doing the touristy things in LA, and getting around mostly by cab - an expensive way to travel.  It was my pleasure to pick them up from their Hollywood motel and take them to the good old reliable Cat and Fiddle, where we sat in the lovely courtyard surrounded by trees and Spanish-style buildings, relaxed with a beer and chicken pot-pie, and talked comedy, LA and the biz.

On the job front, I have started reading scripts for an agency - unpaid but interesting and a lovely way to spend a couple of hours in a cafe, 'working' - and was interviewed this morning for an assistant job I applied for with a small, up and coming production company which specialises in documentaries.  Cross fingers for that one I'd love to do it!

Well, there you have it, enough bloggery for now methinks.   See you in a few days!