7/4/2006

There’s so much trash on the streets, along the curb, that I have to wonder if they actually have street cleaners. This is the downtown area, like the street in front of the hotel.

Today I went to the Asian Art Museum again, because I was antsy to get up to the third floor and see the Tibetan and Southeast Asian exhibits, which I did. This time I took my camera and found out that you can take pictures without a flash. Eventually I even figured out how to not use the flash, and judging from what I could see in the little window of the camera, the pictures turn out really well without it—one of the advantages of a digital rather than disposable camera. And oh my, I saw some wonderful Buddhist and Hindu artwork, as my sketchbook and camera prove.

Probably because of the holiday, there were no pavilions on U. N. Plaza, so I didn’t get the bodhisattva statue I saw the other day. But then, I’ll be back Thursday. True, it could be sold by then, perhaps already is. (Since writing this, I discovered that the merchants don’t set up their pavilions on Tuesdays, even if they’re not holidays.)

Judging by the exhibits at the Asian Art Museum, Southeast Asian art (from Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, and Laos) is breathtaking and largely influenced by Buddhism, although bear in mind that I was looking at antiques and not contemporary art. I saw a great many Buddhas, and I can never get tired of looking at Buddhas. Siddhartha Gautama taught that there are four positions for meditation: sitting, standing, walking, and lying down, and so Southeast Asian Buddhist art includes Buddhas in all of these positions. Also, despite the Buddha's simple monk life, they tend to be very elaborate, with gold and crowns and capes and thrones, oh my.

Last time I was at the Asian Art Museum, I had ordered the vegetarian curry dish by its real (perhaps Hindi) name and ended up with a salad that contained green tea sobo noodles. It was a tasty meal including a variety of vegetables and tofu and a dark sauce, but it was a cold salad, not a hot curry dish. Today I ordered “vegetable curry” for lunch rather than ordering it by its untranslated name, and I got the right dish—it was really scrumptious. I also got a lemon custard desert with fresh blueberries on top (though the curry was filling by itself), and chamomile tea.

I must mention that I saw, in the Tibet/Himalayas gallery, a Buddhist monk in red robes. At least I’m pretty sure this was a monk rather than a nun. I wasn’t staring, just doing the corner of the eye thing. I saw him again in the museum shop, of all places, while I was looking at books. He looked through a book too.

The largest figure standing in the Tibetan Gallery was Simhavaktra Dakini, a crazy-looking demon-like dancing dakini, or manifestation of the divine feminine (what you might call a fairy), who gives practitioners inspiration and knowledge on the path to Enlightenment. Tibetan Buddhism involves visualization of deities and fairies and such, so there is probably a meditation centered on visualizing this particular dakini. While I discovered Tibetan Buddhism a few years ago, I’m glad I practice insight meditation, which is so much less complicated and free of cultural baggage.

The Tibetan gallery also included many beautiful silver or gold figures of bodhisattvas and buddhas and dakinis and fierce deities. I noticed a Palden Lhamo sculpture, a fierce goddess who protects the Dalai Lama and Lhasa, though from what I’ve read about Chinese-occupied Tibet, she must be slacking off on the job. I saw a wooden box with many arched nooks, each containing a statue.

One of the most beautiful figures was a White Tara statue several feet high but missing her traditional lotus throne; she is a popular goddess representing wisdom, compassion, and enlightenment. There are a total of twenty-one Taras in Tibetan Buddhism, each a different color and representing something a bit different. The most popular is Green Tara, who has one foot lowered to signify that she’s ready to get up and help people in need.

I visited the museum shop and bought two books on Siamese history, books on Tibetan history, a postcard book of thangkas, and a Tricycle magazine. As I walked down the sidewalk next to the museum, I carried my shopping bag full of books with both arms, sort of hugging the bag, and I was smiling as I thought about the museum exhibit. Or maybe I wasn’t smiling till I saw a shuttle with big purple words on the side: Purple Lotus Buddhist School. I wondered if that explained the presence of the Buddhist monk, at the same time that a group of kids in red t-shirts had appeared in the Tibetan gallery. I started to daydream about what such a Buddhist school would be like.

Shortly after I passed the shuttle and was still smiling, I passed a red-haired woman coming in the opposite direction, and she brusquely said, “Easy come, easy go.” If she was trying to rain on my parade, it didn’t work. I was in a calm, equanimous mood after all that Buddhist artwork and relatively calm museum atmosphere. (Admission is free on Tuesdays, so there was a big crowd, but compared to the crowds on the sidewalks it was calm). I don’t know why mean people see someone who’s in a good mood and try to make them unhappy. Jealousy perhaps, like they have an attitude of, “How dare you be in a good mood when I’m not.” Even if I had been smiling merely because I had my shopping bag full of books, which was not the case, I’d rather have some good books than hoard money that, incidentally, I earned working at a job that uses absolutely none of my artistic creativity and that I do not enjoy.

A minute after this hostile stranger walked away, I took a picture of the prayer flags and mani stones set up on a balcony of the Asian Art Museum, even though the prayer flags are very frayed and look like they should be replaced. Faded and tattered.

After I got back to the hotel room, I used the foot massage, took a bath, and lay down to take a nap, setting the alarm so that I’d go to Pier 39 to see the fireworks. It struck me as kind of silly to celebrate Independence Day, considering the current political situation (like, considering what a stinking imperialist government we have and how we desperately need a real revolution now), and yet it also seemed kind of silly to hang out in my hotel room while I’m in San Francisco and it’s a holiday, so I went to Pier 39 that evening.

I got in line for the trolley at the bottom of Powell St, and I actually gave a tourist directions. I had to stand on the trolley, which was kind of scary on all those hills.

When we got off, I moved through the crowd toward Pier 39, and the crowd on Fisherman’s Wharf was enormous and lively. Dancers danced, and other people walked around with flashy glow-in-the-dark glasses (green or blue), and some people had glow-in-the-dark sticks, and eventually I passed a woman selling them. I kept slowly moving through the crowd toward Pier 39, and when I got there, I kept moving till the crowd was so thick there was no path, so I turned around and backtracked till I reached a place where only one layer of people stood along the railing. The crowd was more interesting than the fireworks.

At one point in the evening, while the fireworks were going off overhead, I heard “Ar, ar, ar, ar, ar!” and looked down to see that, even though I expected the sea lions to be afraid of fireworks, three of them were on a couple of barges. There I was in a crowd in the dark, fireworks overhead, boats and sea lions straight ahead.

I saw some cute little dogs tonight, but I’m not sure it’s appropriate to take dogs out in such mayhem, with the crowd and fireworks. From what I’ve seen, most of the dogs in San Francisco are small and cute, but of course if you’re living in a city it makes sense to have a smaller dog, particularly if you live in an apartment.

As the crowd was walking along Pier 39 to leave, I passed a group of rowdy people dressed as Santa Clauses and giving out candy. After I had walked far enough to be almost off that pier, I saw some minor fireworks shoot off the pier at approximately where the Santa Clauses were.

I walked and walked through the crowd and finally got to the cable car station on Hyde Street, where a smaller crowd than usual stood waiting in line to board the trolley, and one trolley was full of people but not moving. Yellow police tape was strung in front of the trolley. I got in line, and someone ahead of me mentioned a thirty-minute wait. I was willing to wait, as long as I got a ride. The wait was longer than thirty minutes, due to the pedestrians on the streets, and there were only three trolley rides. I got to ride the last trolley on July 4! And it was free. People who stood clinging to the side during this ride ecstatically yelled and cheered when the trolley started moving and also whenever it went around a corner or a steep hill. It was a very crowded trolley, but I was seated this time.