Friday, March 15, 2024

Police Chief of South Gate, Darren Arakawa, Makes $460,000 a Year, While Arakawa Turns Blind Eye to Underground Colombian Theft Ring.

In 2022, Police Chief of South Gate, Darren Arakwa, made $458,016.47, according to Transparent California. The U.S. Census states that South Gate has approximately 90,926 residents. The average income per capita in South Gate is $22,927. 

Therefore, the police chief makes 20 times more than the average resident of South Gate. Furthermore, South Gate has only around 50 police employees.

In contrast, in 2022, according to the same website, Chief Michel Moore of the City of Los Angeles made $389,398.80. Moore managed around 9,000 staff. The City of Los Angeles has 3.85 million residents. The average income of an Angelino is $30,225. Hence, Moore makes 12.9 times the amount an average resident of LA makes.

Also, in contrast, Governor Gavin Newsom of California made $290,119.64 in 2022.

Arakawa's salary became an issue, when his rookie officer, Jose Gonzalez, who makes almost $100,000 a year refused to arrest a Colombian theft ring for having stolen property. One of the members of that theft ring punched the victim who nabbed the thief, and still Arakwa's officer, being poorly trained, refused to do anything. Gonzales also failed to respect Miranda rights.

When Elder Arambula, a victim of Arakwa's incompetence found out about Arakawa's salary, he stated, "This kind of corruption keeps the people of South Los Angeles trapped in a cycle of poverty. This is where all our money is going."


 

Friday, March 8, 2024

Colombian Cell Phone and Purse Snatchers Targeting Hollywood, Nabbed by Victim; LAPD and South Gate Police Said Not to Bother Them.

Colombian Cell Phone and Purse Snatchers.



On February 29, 2024 - Elder Arambula, 22, professional Spaniard-Mexican boxer, entrepreneur, boxing and fitness coach, and temporary worker for the Los Angeles County Election, was standing outside Hollywood's Avalon Theater, to support his friend and boxer, Ryan Garcia at Garcia's press conference against Devin Heney. Before the conference, Arambula saw two suspicious Hispanic guys walking back and forth, spying on onlookers. Arambula witnessed a chubby darker skinned guy ("Chubby") hand Avalon's security guard a $100 bill.When Arambula began talking to Garcia and Garcia's brother, Chubby bumped into Arambula with his arm and shoulder. The next thing Arambula knew, his cell phone was missing.

Arambula was with his friend, Marilyn Anguiano. The thinner, fairer skinned guy ("Skinny") attempted to pull Anguiano's purse. When he failed to take it, Skinny just said, "Sorry."

On March 2, 2024 - Arambula was able to get a location of his cell phone. Arambula asked me, if I would help him. I said, "Yes, but let me change the water on my South American Amazonian aquarium." (My wild Peruvian discus fish needed clean water.)

The location pinpointed to 2651 Pine Place in South Gate, a three-story apartment. After spending an hour, I was able to locate the phone in one of three units: 102, 202, or 302. The apartment states to be registered to Julio Carrillo. A public record's search says he is 72 years old, goes by the names of Julio Hernandez and Hernan Carrillo and is also registered at 4324 Florence Ave Apt 219, Bell, CA 90201. A relative of his, Miguel Hernandez, also resides at the same address, unit 309.

Arambula knocked on 102. A middle aged Hispanic mother came out. Spoke Spanish. Denied having the phone. I studied her body language. I believed her.

Then, Arambula knocked on 202. Chubby came out. Bingo. We walked inside. We asked for the cell phone. Chubby didn't say anything.

Then all of a sudden Skinny, who was sleeping, threw off his bed sheets. I was startled. Skinny jumped out of bed and popped out of nowhere.

Elder shouted, "Paul, that's him! He was at the press conference! He tried to steal Marilyn's purse!" Anguiano confirmed that the Skinny in the picture was the one who tried to steal her purse.

I looked around the room and saw around 7 stolen cell phones and a few stolen purses. One was a black Dolce Gabbana purse. 

I asked politely for Skinny to give back the phone. Skinny was clearly high on drugs. His speech was slurred. He spoke with a Venezuelan accent.

Chubby asked us to show the location. Elder showed him on his phone. Chubby refused to give back the phone.

I told them we'd have to call the police, if they didn't return the phone. Skinny started screaming and pushing Arambula out of the apartment. Skinny then punched Arambula. Arambula decided not to punch back. Skinny then grabbed me and pushed me out too.

We called the South Gate Police. Two officers came. Both named Gonzalez. One was J. Gonzales. He was a young officer, who asked me to explain the situation. 

After doing so, J. Gonzalez said, "Well, you really shouldn't be here looking for the cell phone. And since you didn't file a police report, there's nothing we could do."

He started interviewing Arambula, and I said, "I want to be present. I'm Arambula's attorney."

J. Gonzalez said, "It doesn't matter. You can't be present while I interview Arambula. You better back away." This would be illegal under the decision Miranda v. Arizona (1965) 384 U.S. 436.

Then J. Gonzales said, "Your cell phone is not here."

Arambula, upset, points to the his other phone and says, "Do you not see, it says the location is here? And I saw the suspects at the place where my cell phone was stolen."

J. Gonzales said, "Since you didn't file a police report, we're not going to do anything."

I said, "You're seriously not going to do anything, when there's a number of stolen cell phones and purses in that unit?"

Gonzalez's partner said they'd interview the suspects. They came down and the partner explained that they denied having the cell phone but did invite them to look for it.

I said, "So, why didn't you search the place?"

J. Gonzales, at the same time, lied to Arambula saying, "We searched the place and found nothing.'

After I heard this, I said, "Your partner just told me you didn't search the place. Go search it."

J. Gonzales said, "We don't have a warrant."

Annoyed and frustrated, I said, "You don't need a warrant. They consented to a search."

The partner and him then agreed to search the place. They came back down. They said they found nothing. They gave us a police report number to make Arambula feel better. 

The partner and J. Gonzales said, "Well, we really don't want to do a thorough search, because our lives could be in danger." 

I shook my head, rolled my eyes, took a deep breath, and thanked them.

A small crowd of residents gathered in the lobby of the apartment. An El Salvadorean woman name Maria said, "I know who they are. They're illegal Colombians. They're thieves. They arrested one not too long ago. We need them gone." Organized crime rings have been stealing cell phones, wallets and purses in West Hollywood. Colombian theft rings are responsible for hundreds of stolen cell phones.

On March 11, 2024 - I emailed Avalon Theater, South Gate Police Chief and the Hollywood Division Captain. Captain Craig Heredia stated that nothing could be done, because a police report wasn't filed. I quickly responded and forwarded him the police report: Report # 240302900356. No response given. Nothing was done.

Chief Arakawa of South Gate replied, "It will be looked into." To date, nothing's been done.

Barney Holm, the General Manager of Avalon wrote, "Unfortunately there is not much that we can do in terms of an investigation or prosecution as a Venue."

The cell phone theft comes at a difficult time for Arambula. Arambula, 22, recently left home, because of his broken family, who struggles with gang activity and addictions. Hence, Arambula was working two jobs, one was as a temporary worker for the LA County Election and as a private boxing and fitness coach. His new business is New Life Boxing and Fitness. 

Because of the cell phone loss, Arambula lost two days of work as an election worker, which is about $600, about a month's rent for him. Arambula, however, made up for it by working 16 hours for the LA County Election from 5:15 AM to 9 PM.

After Arambula posted a picture of the thieves on his Instagram, followers have demanded justice. Comments state "Call ICE"; "Scum bags My daughter has had their purse stolen recent[ly] at Hollywood clubs"; and that Arambula should go back and attack the thieves. Instagram screenshots have been published below.

When asked what Arambula wanted, he stated, "I want these thieves to be investigated, arrested, and prosecuted. I want to get these thieves off the streets. People like this are destroying our society, making it worse, and need to be sent back to where they're from."

* * *

The email address of Captain Heredia, the General Manager of the Avalon Theater, the owner of the Avalon Theater, and Chief Arakawa at South Gate are as follows, respectively: 31900@lapd.online, barney@avalonhollywood.com, john@avalonhollywood.com, darakawa@sogate.org.

Arambula's instagram is @elderboxing107.





 

Monday, January 1, 2024

2024 - The Year of the Slain Dragon - the Year of Truth

I predict this is the year that the dragon will be slain. On the Jewish Holiday of Yom Kippur - I fasted without drinking water or eating food for 24 hours. During that time, I was reading the Holy Scripture and this verse stood out. "The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still." (Exodus 14:14). In other words, trust in the Lord to win our victories for us.

Here's 2023 in review.

In my blog post predicting last year, I talked about achieving peace in my life. For the most part that was accomplished and enjoyed.

On the legal front, I was able to win a restraining order in an elder abuse case. In that case, the court found that a secret wife had abused her husband, stealing all his property, and abandoning him in a foreign country. When that didn't work, she failed to give him medical care, hoping he would die. I'll write more on this case later.

I also settled the case another elder abuse case.

Finally, I finally settled a case I was working on for over four years. 

An incident happened to me in July that forecasts the battle with a dragon. In July, a mean and nasty woman from China, who was born and raised there, hit my car and thought she got away with it. Her name is Kathy Han. (I'll be more than happy to dedicate an article to her, to warn the world about her.) After she bumped into my car at the Bank of America parking lot, she sped off. I called the police to pull her over. She still refused but finally did so.

Then, she called the police and falsely accused me of punching her. I was in shock. She said that she didn't bump into my car. She said that she was a lawyer, and if I kept pursuing it, she was going to sue me.

Han grabbed my phone without my consent, while I was filming her. The police just asked us both to leave.

I was furious that someone would falsely accuse me in this way. I asked the California Highway Patrol Commissioner, Sean Duryee to reopen the case. To my surprise he did. The officers retrieved video footage at Bank of America of this woman bumping into my car. And that was it. She was liable.

The whole incident made me really disappointed in humanity and showed me how evil and wicked people could be. There seems to be a whole movement that wants to excuse human depravity because of nurture and not nature. I don't think so. 

There are evil people out there; psychologists and the secular society calls them sociopaths, psychopaths, narcissists, and anti-socials Judeo-Christianity says that they're evil. There's people out there that get a high off of hurting others and getting away with it.

* * *

There's also been a restoration in relationships for me. In five days, I had three set of people, who were gone for years, come back in my life. That was amazing. You can't replace people. And it's like having a lot valuable returned to you.

* **

For this year, dragons are an evil symbol in Judeo-Christianity. In the Jewish Scriptures, the dragon is represented both as a serpent and the Leviathan. In Christianity, the Dragon represents Satan. 

Coincidentally, it seems to be global symbol. It seems like most cultures have depictions of dragons, from the Mayans to the Asians to the Europeans. 

Going back to the verse that I mentioned above, we need to trust in the Lord for victory. It's a time to let go and not try to control everything. Our duty is only be faithful to the small and large things the Lord calls us to.

I end by stating that this will be the year that the black dragon falls and is slain. I predict that this is the year that Truth will prevail and expose the evils of the black dragon.

Wednesday, December 27, 2023

The Blazing Summer in Paris: Meeting Unique People, Food, Drink, and Art.

I looked at the Mona Lisa for the second time in my life, and I had the same thought when I looked at it 22
years ago: What's so special about this painting? There were so many people crowded around her, all wanting to selfie with her. I wasn't that interested. To be honest, the Mona Lisa looked more like a man than a woman to me. And apparently, the Daily Mail also thinks so. Anyways, I think the most beautiful girl at the Louvre is the Mysterious Antea from Naples, featured below.

It was fun to be in the Louvre again. I bought the virtual guided tour, and they give you this Nintendo DS. It's like a Nintendo Game Boy, to use, to navigate through the place. 

I felt like a kid being in the Louvre again. It's so huge, and it feels like a labyrinth. I could only stay for four hours though. Otherwise, I feel too overwhelmed. You can't do the Louvre in one day, and I wasn't coming back on this trip. I was arted out.

I will have to say, I spent a good amount of time studying the golden symmetry and proportions of the art. What you notice about the masters is that they mastered the skill of proportion, which is the same as beauty. I try to design all of my aquariums with the same type of symmetry, but it takes work and time

Paris was hot and sweltering in September. The locals told me it was unusual. When you exited the shower, the sweat stuck to your skin. Passion and excitement were in the air in Paris.

* * * 

Over 20 years ago, I was in Paris. I told myself I would never come back. I was studying my physics, then, in the South of England, and we all took a trip to Paris for three days. I was too poor back then to take a plane ride to Paris; so, we took some ferry across the English channel. A number of us got seasick.

It was raining. The French were mean and told me to go back to my country, because I couldn't speak French. I told myself these were the nastiest people I ever met and was never coming back to France, let alone Paris.

And yet, I gave France another chance back in 2012, when I lectured at the law school in Aix-en-Provence. I'm glad I did. The people were amazing. And I certainly fell in love with the country and people when I was living in the Alps. I learned French then, because no one spoke English there.

I have to say that Hemingway is right that there's no place like Paris, even though they still have some of the most inhospitable people one can find. I think the one thing that Paris does, unlike any other city, is that it brings special people together. The other two things are the art and food.

I sat down at a cafe near the Notre Dame Cathedral, which was still being rebuilt. I spoke French to the waiter. On the left were English people. On my right were Germans. I spoke to the Germans in German. The gentleman was an older man with a mustache. Retired, maybe, or could be. Him and his group push biked from Cologne to Paris. People looked surprise that I could speak in German, French, and English. I was the strangest Asian guy they met. Like I said - Paris brings everyone together.

While I looking at the River Seine, I had a glass of Cote Du Rhone. The English guy on my right was actually a Member of Parliament. That's the equivalent of an American senator. He told me he wanted to become the Prime Minister. He broke his arm a lot for some reason.

We chatted about this and that. I wonder who the German was and what he did. He just told me liked the cheese and potatoes and his beer tasted good.

On another day, I sat at another cafe by a museum. There was an old obese American guy chatting up a 60 year old art expert. The American guy was trying to have a mistress in Paris. She was elegant and spoke English with the coolest French accent. She reminded me of the actress Helen Mirren.

And then on another day, I sat at another cafe and ordered a glass of champagne. The couple on the left were Dutch. So was the guy on my right. I greeted them in Dutch. I know a few words. I had a Dutch boss once. We got along really well.

The Dutch couple on the left, older, told me they took a carriage ride from Amsterdam to Paris with four horses. They dressed up in a proper morning coats and lady outfits. The woman said she waved to everyone coming down to Paris, and she felt like a queen for day.

The waitress was impressed I could order in French. She said my pronunciation was very good. Later a young guy and girl replaced the Dutch older couple. They were locals. And the guy was in love. And the girl was shy. And it was so nice to watch them on a hot summer's day.

***

I can't say everyone I met was pleasant. We had these two Vietnamese Americans who never traveled before at our hostel. The girl was probably 18-22. The father was 35-40. The girl said she was wild for sex and practiced lots of it. Safely - of course. Did I really want to know that?

They looked more like a couple then parent and child. In fact, they also acted that way. They were selfish and awful and unpleasant.

Well, they were civil enough in the beginning. But they liked to club and make a big raucous when they came back from clubbing, waking everyone up. They had no respect for other people's space, as their stuff was everywhere - like a messy teenager's room.

And they hogged up the fan too. Remember; I told you it was boiling hot. 

The day they left, I almost told them, "I"m so happy you're leaving. Good riddance to bad rubbish." But I controlled myself. But I didn't want to. I wanted to tell them. And badly too.

* * *

I stayed by the main train station, at a hostel called Saint Christopher. There was a young women receptionist by the name of Ruth. She was the sweetest soul. Her smile always brightened my day. She told me her father was Italian and fell in love with her Brazilian mother in the Amazon. She had a European passport and came to Paris to better her French. She always provided great instructions around the city.

Where we were at, the residents were mainly black Africans. They gambled outside, screaming and hooting at wins and losses. I ate at a chicken restaurant there. The food was amazing. The chicken was spicy with an African kick. Tasted like jerk. The Africans told me they were mainly from Cameroon or the Ivory Coast. Like in the United States, I noticed that they were mainly the manual labor in Paris. 

I invited a white guy at the hostel to eat with me there. His name was Patrick. He was scared at first of the different culture. I told him to relax and sit down and eat. He did. He agreed that the food was amazing.

* * *

One night at the hostel, there was a big rugby match against France and New Zealand. The streets were flooded with people. You couldn't find a seat at any nearby bar. 

Patrick replaced the annoying father and son duo. Patrick was from New Zealand. I could tell he didn't travel much. He asked me to go with him to meet Kiwis at the Rugby World Cup. I don't know why, but I wasn't in the mood.

Instead, I walked to a local bar. I sat down by myself with my book - A Moveable Feast. I ordered a glass wine. Cote du Rhone, again. A graceful woman came and introduced herself as Lucy. I don't think I was going to be reading my book. 

We talked. She was an art curator. She practiced her English with me, which was very good, and she knew it. She told me where to eat and what museums to see. Lucy said the best French restaurant was around the corner, but that I needed a reservation. It was always booked.

* * *

The next afternoon, I walked to this restaurant, which was booked. The owner said that there wasn't going to be a space open until next week. I told him I was leaving soon, though, and I had to eat here. I spoke to him in French and asked him to please give me a seat. He took pity on me. He said, "Now then. I'll sit you now."

I said, "Yes." I ordered fried breaded lamb sweetbreads. That's lamb pancreas. I ordered it with red wine and had their creme brûlée. It was excellent. Crispy on the outside and meaty and soft on the inside. It washed down well with the silky wine.

I told the owner that the food was excellent, and I needed to come back. He said he had no space for dinner, but he would make room, just for me. I thanked him again.

Later, towards the evening, I went back to my hostel room and saw Patrick in bed. He said he didn't feel well from the Rugby event yesterday. I felt bad he wasn't seeing much of Paris. I asked if he'd like to walk with me to Montmartre, which is a large hill in Paris, which has a cathedral on top. He agreed. 

So, we took a 40 minute walk through the back streets of Paris. Patrick told me about his life. He was on his overseas experience. He broke up with his partner. They were saving for a house. Now he had money for a trip. He was a surveyor. And living in the United Kingdom.

When we went to Montmartre, it was full of people. People everywhere sitting on the hill, overlooking the City underneath the expansive pink and red and orange sunset sky. Patrick and I went to the cathedral inside, which was exquisite and ornate. I actually liked the cathedral there better than when I visited the Notre Dame.

After spending time there, I asked Patrick if he wanted to eat at the French restaurant I made a reservation at earlier. He said yes, and we walked hurriedly back to the train station area.

The host was fine I had another person there, even though he was booked. We ordered cockles and wine. I had cuttlefish in mustard champagne sauce. It was amazing. Patrick ordered a red meat dish. And Patrick agreed the food was amazing.

I thanked the host again. The waiter was so happy and thrilled and gave me the warmest hug. I hope I could see the two of them again.

After eating, we returned to our room and there was a new guest. He was from Tibet. He told us some a harrowing story. This guy put up a poster of freeing Tibet. The Chinese government found out. They started hunting him down. He hired a coyote and escaped to Nepal. And from there, they forged him a passport to seek asylum in Paris.

He was a very kind person, and I welcomed him to the Western World. He spoke good English. I told him his courage was very impressive and thanked him for telling his story, which I'm retelling to a limited version here.

* * *

And that was it. The next day, I took the train from the central train station to the airport. I just made it to my flight back to Los Angeles. The flight attendant was excellent in finding a lost phone, I dropped between the seats on Air Tahiti Nui.

On the plane, I was processing my entire summer trip of 2023. There were definitely some big themes to it. I think they were, hospitality; North and South (I kept going up and down on this trip); and new people and what they represent.

A friend picked me up at the bus stop near home. I brought him some fried chicken from the African restaurant. And I shared that food with him. And after he ate it and enjoyed it, I realized that the Moveable Feast was over. It'll come again.

* * *

Merry Christmas everyone! And Happy New Year!



Monday, November 13, 2023

Communion in Dusseldorf: Receiving the Blessing of the Movable Feast

I prayed that the Spirit of the Lord Jesus join us to eat and drink with us, as he did with his disciples before his death, over 2000 years ago. I held the cup of Greek red wine and asked the Lord to transform it into Jesus' blood. I asked Henrik to join me. We touched the bread. We asked the Lord to transform it into Jesus' body, which was broken for us.

We confessed our sins to one another. I asked if Henrik needed to forgive anyone. I certainly did. It's good to let go and not be bitter.

We then gave thanks for what we were grateful for in our lives. I drank the wine. I tore the bread with my teeth. I handed the wine to Henrik, "The blood of Christ, spilt for you." I handed the bread to Henrik and said, "The body of Christ, broken for you."

After praying and drinking and eating, the Lord's spirit joined us to celebrate, after all Jesus was and is the King of rest and feasting. The room glowed brighter with a heavenly light. A sense of supernatural peace filled the room and kissed my soul. Time froze and flowed into eternity. An understanding of God's truth and love lingered in our hearts. I didn't know it then, but I received the blessing of the Movable Feast.

* * *

From Crete, I found a $74 flight to Dusseldorf, Germany, which took a threeand-a-half-hour, which included the luggage fee. Luckily, my friend Henrik was in town. I haven't seen him since 2016. We celebrated Christmas then.

Henrik was very hospitable and met me at the airport, where he took me to his home. The first thing about coming into Dusseldorf I noticed was that it was much more of a modern and industrious country than Greece. For instance, Henrik was talking about his job with the German stock market and how he was challenging share prices of the corporation. Only in the First World, do people discuss such things.

He treated me to dinner at a biergarten (beer garden) the first night. I had a schnitzel in a cream and mushroom sauce. We chatted about his life, his wife, his child, and his problems with church. I told him I had problems with church. I actually met him through a friend at a church I used to attend in Los Angeles. 

Henrik was really good about helping me sort out the rest of the trip and finding me a train ticket to Paris from Dusseldorf. I was going to take the speed train out of Dusseldorf to Paris. Henrik was excited for him, because he said the Thalys Train was an exciting ride.

During the day in Dusseldorf, I went to the bookstore to have coffee and write and read. I was still processing my incredible time in Greece.

The next night, Dusseldorf was warm. And Henrik showed me around downtown and taught me the history of the city. Dusseldorf has this huge modern clock tower, which displays the time like a digital watch. It's located near the ancient part of town. It really sends a message about the future and past coming together.

After eating döner kebabs (Turkish meat sandwich) and seeing the city, we partook in communion together, the ancient Christian ritual that we're commanded to do. It was amazing that me as a Korean-American and a German, who are separated by 5,482 miles, can practice the same ritual and experience God's goodness, as it was done over 2,000 years ago.

* * *

I was running late to get the 6-o'clock train to Paris. We went to the nearest supermarket, but there was only one cashier and a long line. I needed some food for my four hour journey. Some young Arab teenagers saw I was in a rush. I let them know I had a train to Paris. They insisted I cut in front of them. They had the warmest smiles and most welcoming attitude. They knew they were helping me on my journey forth. A bitter German lady behind them didn't seem too happy though.

Outside, it was 5pm. The sky was bright blue and the sun was full and it was hot. Henrik took me all the way to the train station. The Thalys Train was a bright ruby red.

I found my seat. We put my luggage in. Henrik stayed with me until the train departed. He started running with the train. It was very kind of him. I watched Henrik, until he disappeared from my window. At first he was at the right side of the window, and as the train outpaced him, he slid more left and left, until he disappeared.

* * *

I was thinking about the blessing of the movable feast on my train ride. What's a movable feast? The most important Jewish and Christian holidays, Passover and Easter, are movable feasts. They are celebrated on a different day each year. 

Most people probably think of blessing as wealth, health, and success. But I realized I was receiving a different blessing, one that celebrated life, hospitality, and eating and drinking. Life became one celebration, because there are times to celebrate. People who say religion is a set of rules don't understand that the Christian God is one of festivals, partying, and passion.

And the feast was movable. It was going with me to Paris. And I was going to invite others to join and celebrate and enjoy. I had a movable feast experience once in Stockholm, Sweden.

I realized now that the Movable Feast goes where the Spirit of the Lord is. And the time and place and people will change. But the spirit of celebration and joy is always the same, if you can catch and experience it.

* * *

While riding the train, I passed through Cologne and saw the Gothic cathedral out of the window. I spoke to the conductor in German. When they changed conductors, I spoke to him in French. I spoke on my cell phone in English, catching up with people back home. The train was going at 186 miles per hour. The people around me must have thought I was the strangest Asian guy.

There was fast WiFi onboard. I could see why Henrik said it was an enjoyable experience. It was faster than airplane, because you would have to check in and out. You have fast WiFi. You have a lot of space and a comfortable seat. And you get dropped off directly in the center of the city, instead of having to find transportation from the airport back into the city.

In the train, I switched out my reading books. I put in my luggage the book on a confederate war general. I pulled out of my luggage Ernest Hemingway's A Moveable Feast.

My train arrived at the (in)famous Gare Du Nord station in central Paris. When I exited the station, the streets smelled like urine. Everyone outside was from Africa, and there was no white people at Garde Du Nord at night, outside the train station. If you didn't know it was Paris, you would have thought you were in a capital city in Africa. I walked my way to my hostel with my luggage. 

I made it to Paris. The last time I was here was over 22 years ago.

Tuesday, October 10, 2023

Sailing to Santorini and Visiting the Hotel Remezzo

When our ship approached the Greek island of Santorini, it was like looking at the spiky fins of a huge black dragon's tail sticking out of the bluest sapphire waters. The top of the cliffs were covered with white, which looked like snow on ashy, black mountains. I stood at the back of the catamaran. I watched as the engines gulped and spat out huge floods of seawater, creating torrents of white sea foam. And as I looked at the white wake, I felt like I was sailing on a huge and flat sapphire gem. The white wake behind me reminded me of my past and all the unwanted memories and stress that I didn't need. They were all the things I wanted to forget about. The wake, my past, my memories, this trip, would leave a brief scar in the Aegean Sea, but eventually, the Sea would eat it all up and nothing would be remembered, and there would be no traces of the wake or white or the past or memories. 

These islands were created by a volcano, which is still active. It's actually the largest volcano in the Aegean Sea. There used to be more connected landmass, but it sank. Santorini is certainly the place where sea, sky, sun, and fire all converged.

Some people say that the lost city of Atlantis is below the waters of Santorini. I imagined that the Leviathan, the ancient sea dragon, lived beneath the waters of Santorini. The Bible asks: "Who can strip off its outer coat? Who can penetrate [the Leviathan's] double coat of armor:? Who dares open the doors of its mouth, ringed about with fearsome teeth?" 

And when the Leviathan is enraged, it blows fire from the Aegean Sea. Some times land is created. Other times, land is destroyed. The Leviathan murders and creates. The earth sinks. It's eaten. It's gone. Forgotten by the wind and sea.

* * *

I was waiting for my host. I was thinking that I was not a normal person. I met a stranger on the streets at 2am, who invited me to his home and asked me to come to Santorini. And I said yes. Him and his friend were at a funeral in Athens. I was wondering if he was even coming.

How about if you were me? You didn't hear anything for a few hours. But you know, I knew I could trust  Yiannis. His great hospitality was proof enough. No interview needed.

I waited in Fira, which was full of tourists and was very expensive. Once again, too many Americans. That means prices are going to be high. And they were. 

I ate lunch in Fira. And the food was bad and overpriced.

Yiannis sent me a text around 3pm to change my ferry ticket home for tomorrow. I was staying the night in Santorini.

He told me to walk to meet him in Imerovigli, the next village over. I walked some old farmer's path from Fira to Imerovigli. It was ancient and beautiful and by the sea. I walked it during sunset. There were so many photographers everywhere, probably every 100 feet. This was definitely the Instagram paradise.

* * *

My host found me on the ancient path and invited me to the Hotel Remezzo. He grabbed me and led me to the hotel. The owner's name is Vasillas. He's thoughtful and kind and hospitable. I meet his sister, Electra and his nephew. They're all very lovely family.

When I enter the hotel lobby, Vasillas makes me a beautiful ice tea. It's hot from the sun but cooler with the winds; so, it's good to have a tea and savoring the moment. The tea is bright and yellow and sunny. 

At the lobby, I meet two Californians, who are happy to meet new people. They're names are Jake and Ranithri. They're from the Bay area. 

I sit and we do small talk. It's fun. I see a couple sitting away from us, and they want to join. But they don't.

Vasillas and Yiannis tell us a little bit about their funeral. Their friend, in his 40s, died from a drug overdose. He suffered depression. 

Jake talks about some of those issues within his own family. These topics are a real issue in our world now.

* * *

Vasillas tells me the history of the hotel. It used to be a winery. His father fell in love with Santorini, bought the winery, and transformed it in a hotel.

Did you know there's no fresh water on Santorini? The grapes all grow from the humidity of the air. Also, the dome shapes of the house are round to collect water from the humidity, which drips into a tank. It made me wonder how the first people of Santorini had enough water to survive. It's not like there are wells around.

Also, all the buildings are white, because the ancient people crushed limestone and made it into paint. They did so, to reflect the heat away from the sun and also because it prevents mold from growing.

* * *

Jake was kind and offered me some of his leftover burger. But Yiannis tells me not to eat, because they're taking me out for dinner. I tell Jake, "Everyone thinks they're my boss." I chuckle. But this is true. They do.

Yiannis and Vasillas are kind and invite the other Americans too. And we all eat at their friend's restaurant. The food is so good.

We have what the Greeks call Mezze, which is their word for appetizers or tapas. We have cream and mushroom, feta and cooked cherry tomatoes, pork belly and grilled onions. They order Santorini wine. The food is amazing. It's some of the best food I had in Europe. And there were so much fun and laughter and the telling of stories. Both Vasillas and Electra are thoughtful and reflective and observant people. There was something special about the dinner.

* * *

Vasillas gave me a room for the night. Being in there, I knew I was stepping into ancient Santorini history. I wondered so much about what this room was used for when it was winery. I imagined what it would be like for wine to be aged in this room.

I was told later the room was once used to make wine. So, I was right.

* * *

The next morning Vasillas and Yiannis take me to a breakfast spot high on the hill with beautiful food again. They had whole bread with cheese and honey and nuts, while we drank rich and dark and strong coffee.

 Vasillas tells me stories about growing up with his father on Santorini. Not a bad childhood.

At breakfast, at the taking of the toast and coffee, I told them stories from my life. I told them about getting out of debt and freeing myself to do what I needed to. I also told them stories about my cases. I hope it helped them. I hope I told the right stories. 

There's a story about the Apostle Paul, who God blocked from traveling to Asia. The Apostle had a vision of a man in Macedonia, which was part of Greece, then. Paul knew that he was meant to go there. I wonder if I was meant to meet Yiannis and Vasillas and Jake and Ranithri. I think I was. 

Remember when I landed into Germany, I had no plans. I didn't even know I'd end up in Santorini a few weeks ago.

When I tried to pay for the bill, Yiannis already paid for it.

* * *

Eventually, it was time to say good bye. After saying good bye to Vasillas and Jake and Ranithri. Yiannis and I, however, sailed back to Crete. We talked about his wine making and his future.

Upon landing on Crete, I ate and drank with Yiannis and Marina. 

From there, I went back to my village. I bought two shot glasses from Santorini. One for Nikitas and one for Yiannis. I also bought a magnet for my host of my studio. They were all happy I remembered them.

I felt like Yiannis and Nikitas were my family away from home. I wanted to show them that they were on my mind, and appreciated, even though I only left Crete for two days. And I had this need to tell Yiannis, Nikitias, and Yiannis' family what happened in Santorini. So, I retold my Santorini stories. They listened. Something understood.

Wednesday, September 27, 2023

My Days in Crete: More Greek Kindness.

I walked into a seafood restaurant, and a tall, athletic and skinny host named Nikitas invited me and asked if I wanted to make a reservation; I didn't know it then, but he was in the Greek military special forces and was half Cyprian. (Did you know Cyprus is the only other country in the world that speaks Greek? I think a territory in Macedonia also speaks Greek.) He was kind, and he really wanted me to feel at home. Nikitas had such a unique name, it took me awhile to remember it. The invitation set the tone of extending the great Greek Hospitality that Ianis and Marina showed me earlier.

There was another restaurant I went to often for coffee called Taverna Dimitra. The first thing I noticed was that there were two notebook computers, and they looked plugged in and like they were used a lot. I found out that the family had a daughter named Dimitra, and she graduated in computer science. Her fiance is Yiannis. Yiannis was also very hospitable and kind, and I built a relationship with that family. Yiannis is also a computer scientist.

I noticed that they were a happy family and that there was a peace and kindness in their house. And you could see that the children really benefited from a loving and good home. The son was a police officer. There was much to learn here. This is in stark contrast to the stress levels of Los Angeles.

What I love about the people of Crete is that they have time for you. And they want to know more about you. And they want to talk to you. And they want to develop a relationship with you. In Los Angeles, I feel so pressed for time all the time that I don't feel like I have time for others. Here, they make time for you.

I finally made it to a small village by the sea. Crete itself was an ancient kingdom by the sea. I was fascinated to know that I was on the island where the Minotaur once lived. And the people love to come and go, talking about Alexander the Great.

I can't say that there was any eye catching event I experienced at this village. It was quiet. Maybe that's what I needed. And the food was good.

I read a lot, which was one of the aim of my trips. I wanted to get through as many books as possible. I had 6 books, two of which I was half way through. I read on a feminist memoir on a woman who was sexually abused by her father. She gave birth to a dead baby. She was a good writer. I also read on bone healing. Then there was a book interviewing ultra liberal people, like a Black lesbian woman, who was trying to convince the American public it needed to change and admit it was racist. And guess what? The next book was on a civil war general, who fought for slavery. Now, I was reading on the dirty, bribery world of FIFA soccer. I don't think you're going to meet someone who reads this diversely.

People ask me why I spend my time reading on holidays, because I can do that at home. But that's not true. I have so many responsibilities; I really have to get away to make time for reading. I stress that again. You have to make time for reading; otherwise, it won't get done.

I was five minutes by the beach. One thing I didn't like about this village was that there were so many older people and no young single people. These older people were generally British. And I felt like I was stuck in a really large convalescent home.

The lady at the souvenir shop says she loves the British, because they're well mannered. She disliked Israelis and Russians the most. 

True. They were well mannered. But I didn't like the culture of these older British people. They were extremely self-absorbed and had lost their purpose for living a long time ago. They were there to get a few more years of excitement out of life, even though they couldn't do much, because their bodies were failing them. And then they were going to die. How sad to witness all this.

The only reason that they could travel was that their British Sterling Pound was strong, and once again, they had lost their purpose in life. Had they been earning Hungarian Forint, they couldn't travel. So, it wasn't anything special that they individually did to have more money. They were just benefitting off the British currency.

They reminded me of the trashy old Americans you see in Loreto, Mexico and throughout Cabo. It's not a good thing to lose your purpose to live and then try to extract your senior years in some beach town only to then die.

Russians are no longer allowed to the European Union. But I noticed a party illegally got through through Turkey. That was interesting. And they were typically Russian, wanting to show off their wealth.

* * *

Later in the week, I texted Ianis and Marina, remember the Greek couple who showed me incredible hospitality and told him where I was. Ianis picked me up. He came from the South and finished his business. The drive was three and a half hours. 

Ianis looked tired. Marina was tired. They had worked all day. They picked me up and we went to sit at a cafe on the coastal rocks, overlooking the Mediterranean sea during a red sunset. It was nice we were continuing the relationship.

They ordered ice cream. I ordered a glass of red wine. We talked. We caught up. There was small talk and bigger talk and everything in between.

After Ianis ate the ice cream, he looked so happy. He woke up and became more alert. He also adds: "I really needed that."

Ianis then tells me to meet him on the island of Santorini tomorrow. I have to wake up at 6 in the morning to do it. (Everyone who knows me, knows I'm not a morning person.) I agree. I'll do it. He says I only have to pay for the ferry ride, which is actually dear.

I wasn't planning on going to Santorini. I heard it was expensive. I remember it was an Instagram paradise. Why not?

Ianis paid for my wine. I say I'll see him soon. We say goodbye.

He texts me later not to come, because Marina will not come. I told him, I'll still come. I sleep early. 

I ask Nikitas if he ever went to Santorini. He says he has not.

I ask Yiannis, the computer scientist, if he ever went to Santorini. He says, "No. Never. I heard it's expensive."

I slept earlier. Well, I was going to Santorini tomorrow. I didn't know it then, but the Lord was with me wherever I went in Greece.