As dawn broke Thursday morning, we loaded bags, instruments, and bodies into Alona’s car, bound for California via JFK. Various band members offered various travellers prayers to various deities and we were on our way.

The flight was painless. Aaron and I took turns sleeping on each other’s laps. I watched most of “Sideways” on free satellite TV. Before we knew it were were in LA, and it was three hours earlier than it should have been. We headed to Taylor’s mom’s house to pick up the gear (and admire the architecture), and then to the club – Tangier.

Tangier was dark and well-decorated with various North African-looking tapestries and lamps. The Nice Jewish Girls Gone Bad preceded us with their variety show, hosted by the Goddess Perlman (who is fond of announcing that she ‘puts the whore back in hora’). Spoken word, stand-up comedy, a girl with a guitar, and a striptease featuring local burlesque dancers dressed in hasidic gear… we’ve toured with them before and, well, it’s a trip.

Then we went on and did our thing. Except for Aaron unplugging my cable in the heat of the moment at the end of Romania, the show went off pretty much without a hitch, and with our usual joy and abandon. And then, we did it again (two shows a night on all three nights of the tour!) The first show sold out early, but some old friends and family came to the second one – Jeff Smith of Towson High School fame; Caroline my roommate from music camp lo those many years ago, with her husband Matt; my third cousin Matt Wise, and David and Riqi with their little newborn, Chanina– definitely his first rock show, and he lasted well past midnight!!!!!!

Friday morning we awoke at our hotel in Little Tokyo and ate a brunch of amazing Japanese soup and green tea ice cream across the street. I learned that you are supposed to eat miso soup with chopsticks and then drink the liquid (who knew?) and was possessed with a great desire to go to Japan. Next year in Tokyo!

But onward, to Fairfax, the Jewish part of town, to pick up challah for dinner and drop off cd’s at Hatikva music. Then Annette and I checked out the La Brea tar pits while Jeremy shopped for the rest of the dinner ingredients. Hm, somehow I had always imagined a giant sticky black lake in the middle of the desert. But this was, as Annette described it, more like “a dirty pond.” Well, it did bubble and smelled like asphalt. That was the big excitement, as we didn’t have time to go to the fossil museum.

Friday night, a (shabbes) dinner party at John Mastro’s house. Mastro is the big man at Aeronaut Records, our dear record label, and one hell of a host. And because Jeremy is one of the top three cooks in the world, as far as I am concerned, we all dined like Italian royalty, down to the kosher salami. Mastro let me sleep on his couch and debated theology with me until 2 in the morning and Caroline shared her wisdom about obscure post punk bands in the 70’s. All in all, a perfect night off.

Saturday night: Santa Cruz. The puncutationally named “Ch!p” runs The Attic, a spacious and beautiful loft that puts on shows and parties. They made us feel very welcome, with a special menu for the night with matzoh ball soup and potato pancakes, and some extremely enthusiastic dancers. We especially loved meeting the women who had moved out to California from Brooklyn in their 20’s, and who told us, “We didn’t realize we missed New York till we heard Golem!” Exhausted after two more shows, we went to our hotel, which I suspect doubled as a less respectable establishment, but what can you do, it was cheap.

Sunday morning, the beautiful drive: the Pacific Coast Highway, past gorgeous ocean scenes, bikers, people with surfboards.
We stopped for lunch at a Mexican place off the highway and met two old timey players from the Government Issue String Band of Portland, Oregon, biking down the coast with their instruments in their bike baskets! Too bad we had no time to play tunes together. I decided that before Japan I should make it a point to visit Portland, which is after all the city of my birth. Later, we pulled off the road to climb down to the ocean. We all spread out and walked in silence. Taylor found a starfish, Aaron gathered sticks, I got pebbles for my plants. Then back into the van and to San Francisco!

Everyone had told me how great Cafe Du Nord would be, and they were right. Dark red lights and french fries and Scrimshaw Beer (arrr). Two more great shows, including a transcendental last show of the tour and a near-striptease by Aaron (not to be outdone by the burlesque dancers), who wowed even his fellow Golemites. We met some great folks in San Francisco – Megan’s friends from Chicago came, and Molly who had come to the Santa Cruz show came again in San Fran, and we made some new friends in Brett & Maria (Maria had actual rhinestones on her eyelids, which impressed me to no end!) We asked the club where to eat in SF at 1:30 a.m., and were directed to El Farolito. Oh, those burritos were so good. I got one for the plane, and who should we meet but Brett and Maria again, rhinestones gleaming!!!

And that was it. I couldn’t sleep on the plane on the way back. I watched Bette Midler play a country music star named Rose, and ate my burrito from El Farolito. I love New York but…in my mind I am still on the PCH, zooming north to the sound of Linton Kwesi Johnson and watching the ocean go by. Oh California thank you for such a warm welcome, we hope to be back soon!!!!!!