Vistas de Buena Vista Park

The first public park in San Francisco dates from 1867, when the area between the modern neighborhoods of the Castro and the Haight-Ashbury was called Hill Park.



In 1894, the hill was "forested" under the supervision of John McLaren, and renamed Buena Vista Park. According to a Neighborhood Parks Council history, "During Mayor Adolph Sutro's reign from 1894-98, San Francisco school children planted seedlings each Arbor Day."



New trails and erosion controls have just been installed on the east side of the park, but the place still has a wild feel to it, and its mixture of dogwalkers, marijuana smokers, tennis players, public sex enthusiasts, and street people doesn't feel all that different than 30 years ago.



What also remains unchanged are the views of the surrounding Bay Area, which are magical.

The Comedy of Otello

The San Francisco Opera supernumeraries held a season-ending party at Fort Mason last weekend, and the evening ended with a very funny skit by Charlie Lichtman (above, dressed as a deviled egg). Charlie's only spear carrying this year was in Verdi's "Otello," which is currently running at the opera house this month, but the lighting is so ridiculously dark during the entire production that you probably won't be able to spot him.



One of the best bits in the skit was a chronicling of the onstage deaths in this year's season, from the smothering in "Gianni Schicchi" (above) to the suicide of "Suor Angelica" (below).



My friend Kimo called me at the start of the season and asked for suggestions on opera tickets. I told him to get a mini-series in the last row of the balcony on nights when they were featuring OperaVision jumbo screens. "The tickets are cheap and the sound is the best in the house. Plus, the screens are cool for closeups." He had an extra ticket at the last minute for "Otello" on Tuesday night, and invited me along, though it turned out to be a very odd evening at the opera.



First off, the orchestra under Luisotti and the chorus in their opening storm scene were beyond thrilling but for some reason the Globe Theatre like stage was barely lit during the entire production, so nothing made any visual sense. Then the three principals arrived in Act One, and were all disappointing in their own ways. None of them were terrible, exactly, but the tenor was a non-actor and his voice wasn't great enough to compensate, the Iago struck me as from the Telly Savalas School of Bad Bald Villains acting and his voice wasn't at all remarkable (this is a minority opinion), and finally the Desdemona was borderline ghastly and a terrible actress besides. Of all operas in the repertory, this is the one that demands and rewards great singing actors, but anything less can be depressing. (production photo above by Terrence McCarthy)

The oddness of the evening started with the unnnnngh-unnnngh-unnnngh humming sound that was coming from somewhere near us in the back balcony. During the loud choruses, it wasn't a problem, but the moment the music quieted down, we'd hear: "Un bacio....unnngh-unnngh-unnngh...un baaaacio...unngh-unnngh-unngh." We left after the end of the first act, even though the intermission was scheduled for after act two, because the noise was so seriously annoying.



In the lobby, we told the wonderful usher Martin Dias about the problem, and he got on his walkie-talkie. What was most surprising was that the serious musical purists in balcony standing room weren't up in arms, because the noise was very intrusive. Maybe they're all in New York seeing "From The House of the Dead" at the Met.

We went to the box office and asked to exchange our tickets for another performance, but the irreplaceable box office goddess Marcella Bastiani told us that was not possible. She could, however, get us some different seats for later in the evening, which is how we ended up comped in center orchestra for the third act, the great ensemble heart of the opera.



Unfortunately, there were still no lights on the stage, the principals were still essentially mediocre, and when the extremely hefty Otello rolled onto the floor having a fit, I have to confess to laughing.



Part of the reason for the laughter is that I played Otello in the "Season of Death" skit on Saturday, and had unintentionally done a perfect parody of the bad acting in the real "Otello." I believe my ad-libbed line after learning that Desdemona hadn't been unfaithful and before stabbing myself was, "Oh, Dio Mio, what have I done?"

Meet Vietnam 1: Apocalypse Then

Hundreds of mostly elderly Vietnamese people surrounded San Francisco's City Hall on Sunday and Monday.



They were protesting an official trade mission from the Socialist Republic of Vietnam that included a reception in City Hall on Sunday afternoon...



...and an all-day conference at the Intercontinental Hotel on Monday partly sponsored by the American Chamber of Commerce in Vietnam (click here for the schedule of events.).



For the Vietnamese Americans surrounding City Hall, however, they were evil Communists and nobody should be doing business with them.



The security was massive but fairly relaxed since the average age of the protestors seemed to be about 75.



Like the Cubans in Miami Beach, the refugees from post-war Vietnam don't look like they are ever going to forgive or forget.



On Sunday afternoon in Civic Center Plaza, I ran into Stefan Salinas (above), an artist who sometimes works with a charity called the Blind Vietnamese Children Foundation (click here for their website). He was on his way to the reception but was fairly taken aback by the protests. I urged him to be brave and report back to me on what the whole thing was about.



It wasn't until Sunday that I realized that Patrick Dougherty's sapling sculptures looked oddly Southeast Asian, with their curlicued tops. They fit right into the protest.

Meet Vietnam 2: Capitalism Now

Though the communists officially won the Vietnam War, from all accounts capitalism is making serious inroads.



An exhibit was set up in the North Light Court of City Hall which was open to the public on Monday until it wasn't.



The place was being guarded by about a dozen black-suited security men who looked like they stepped out of a bad international thriller starring Clive Owen.



The room was featuring crafts...



...and modern Vietnamese art...



...which was being represented by a fancy New York dealer.



Though City Hall is open for meetings until 8PM on weekdays, the entire rotunda was sealed off at 5PM for a sit-down dinner.



The scary security guys roamed the perimeter looking for terrorists and giving me and the camera the evil eye.



When I tried to take a photo of the entryway to the dinner, I was asked nicely by a deputy sheriff not to take a photo "for security reasons" which was ridiculous for a place which by definition is public. It made me want to join the old Vietnamese people protesting outside.