FLYING WITH THE BUZZARDS

Faithful readers will without doubt recognize my keen affinity with turkey vultures (buzzards), seeing as I've mentioned the little dudes numerous times on this blog. Actually, one particular one. A few times. Particularly his hunger, and desire to eat the imaginary little girl hamster (Clarissa) who visits during the day, because she looks like a small Italian meatball.

She's very sweet, and his drooling approach always results in him being swatted.
The other roomies have a fond regard for our guest. Him, not so much.

Never-the-less, our little avian friend has certain charms. As do his wild kinfolk circling in the aircurrents over the freeways in Marin, eyes sharp for roadkill down below, or perhaps little children flung from fast-moving vehicles because they were hanging out the window with their pink, pink, pink tongues lolling.

Kindly note to out of towners: stay away. Life here is more dangerous and surreal than even Fox News warned you. There are daemons in the hills, and cannibals roam freely.


It took me several years to recognize that those birds above me were turkey vultures. From a distance their features are not so evident, one has to go by the silhouette and wing shapes.

The city is filled with tourists. Europeans, and people in town for Dreamforce, an annual self-congratulatory business convention. Different silhouettes, just as recognizable, and qualitatively much the same as haphazard road kill or juicy meatballs.
Even from a great height.


Can't say I care much for conventioneers.


Exception: The geologists, who every year came to town waving their little rock hammers desperate for human contact after months in the wastelands tapping and weighing.
While avoiding scorpions. And gila monsters.



Lunch and tea were at places which, mercifully, our visitors have not discovered, and would be loathe to visit. Unless they had spent some time in Hong Kong, perhaps, and had gotten fired from several jobs there for not maintaining the pretenses of class and racial separation deemed necessary in that place, totally ignoring the office staff keeping the business running profitably, the medical staff treating our ailments, and the mercantile staff providing the substances so necessary for sustaining us in the mad hurly burly of modern life.

That disparity has unfortunately has clear echoes in modern America. Especially here in San Francisco. Where restaurant and clerical workers, engineers, and hospital staff, particularly surgeons and specialists, are overwhelmingly "ethnic". And in the case of the latter, Asian.

The crew that keeps you from crashing are Chinese American.



Enjoyed two pipefulls while lurking around Chinatown. Delightful. Quite near three people discussing business, who were not triggered in the least by the smell of tobacco.

They mentioned Hong Kong several times. Not that I was listening in.

But of course I was.



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