Gambling with sanity

Las Vegas.  An interesting place.  This was my third visit, and I think I'll need a substantial break before heading back to the 105F heat, the million people, and the craziness of hotels built like ancient Rome, Venice, France, etc.

Mat had been on a conference here since Wednesday (theologians in Vegas!  Nice).  Hannah, Alana and I flew in on Friday night and headed straight to the Imperial Palace to check in.  It's a shabby, nicely-located place, with "Dealertainers" - croupiers dressed up as famous people.  For your entertainment.  There was a Michael Jackson, a Blues Brother, and a particularly ropy Marilyn Monroe.  Still, it was cheap, although Mat and Alana's Flamingo next door was far classier.

We had a nice open itinerary of wandering with plenty of stops for rest and a drink.  Following the age-old cheap approach, we signed up for the "slots club" in as many casinos as we could.  Most of them give you five or ten dollars free to put in the machines.  Pick a 1-cent one, sit there for ages, and pretty soon a waitress will arrive to offer you a free drink.  Thus we made our way around sin city, sinning but on other people's money.

On Saturday afternoon Dan popped down from Utah, where he was doing his geothermal thing.  He and Alana went big on the roulette table at Caesar's Palace ($10 minimum bet!) and each walked away with a healthy $30 profit. I was waiting for the pit boss to throw us out as we so obviously beat the bank.  After ten casinos in the day we rendezvoused at Paris in a "pavement" martini cafe.  It was, to my shock, quite pleasant as we people-watched away from the casino floor.  Well, ten feet away, which is about as far as you can manage in this town.

Sunday began with a fantastic brunch at the Dan-recommended Peppermill Diner on the North Strip.  Now this was authentic - pink neon, mirrored surfaces, indoor trees, huge portions, bottomless coffee...definitely the place to eat, even though I had my eye on the all-you-can-eat/drink Champagne breakfast at the Bellagio.

We drove further north to Downtown, home of the Golden Nugget and other old-time casino favourites, but my friends judged it too seedy to get out of the car.  Seedy?  In Vegas?!  Anyway, civilisation was regained in the high-end Fashion Show shopping mall and a trip to Wynn's.  This casino is genuinely posh, but also gives you $10 for joining their slot club.  We blagged some more comp drinks (although vodka and tonic at 11am on a Sunday isn't my usual), Dan made another $20, and even I came away with $15 winnings from a fruit machine that had something to do with fish.  I just pulled the handle and let the one-armed bandit do its work.

Dan drove back to his work site in the afternoon, and the four of us collapsed at the all-new Aria.  It's glitzy (surprise!)  The newer casinos don't go for themes but more a general high-end appeal.  It almost works, and I did find a delicious cup of Earl Grey in one of their cafes, so extra points there.

Our 8.30pm flight was massively delayed due to fog in SFO (yes, the foggiest city in the world does not have an air traffic control system that can deal with low clouds) and we arrived after the last BART had departed.  We crawled into bed at 1.30am, our $20 train fare having turned into a $160 taxi ride.  I'll just have to win that back on the next visit.

A popular destination on a Friday night.

Just landed, and the gambling begins.

Reteaming with Mat at the Imperial.

The Strip at night.  Hot and crowded.

The next morning, as we locate the Starbucks nearest to our hotel.

It's certainly less crowded first thing on a Saturday.  I wonder why.

Mat meets legend Donny Osmond, who's still plying his trade at the Flamingo.

Two more legends, sadly no longer with us.

Caesar's Palace, a short walk across the road from its Imperial sister, and a nicer place to indulge our vices.

Although inside it's still just a casino.

Hannah makes some money on her complimentary slot club stake!

I made a slight tactical error of putting my free $5 in a $5-a-play machine.  When you go, go large!  I lost everything immediately.

Alana managed to sweet-talk a security guard into letting us look around the pool area (normally $20 for non-guests).  And, as you'd expect, it was crazy.  They have blackjack tables in the pool that you can swim up to!

Alana gets trapped in one of the Forum Shops.

Our first show!  A rather unconvincing telling of the fall of Atlantis featuring animatronic (i.e. fake, rubbery) models.  Still, some nice fire.

Yep, there goes Atlantis.

We blend in among an outdoor fountain's statues.

Compare and contrast.

The flamingos at the Flamingo!

Hannah brings her MBA to bear on video poker.  They lost.

The Venetian, possibly more crazy than Caesar's.

The entrance lobby.

Meeting Dan, and starting with his favourite beer at Treasure Island.  The bar was, disappointingly, not pirate themed.

More free stuff!

Dan plays a machine you always win (and lose) at.

Mat doesn't know.

A free drink at the Mirage!

Back to Caesar's for a swift game of roulette.  Malcolm the dealer entertains.

Alana doubled her money on red!

The Bellagio - restrained.

Cute.

Cuter.

The Cosmopolitan.  It's new and sparkly.

The lobby.  It's all massive video screens that change the decor every few minutes.  Fancy!

Some more fancy.

Finally relaxing in Paris.  Just like the real thing, but with fewer French people.

A shower before bed.

Next morning, fueling up at the Peppermill.

Inside it doesn't disappoint.

It also won me over with its fine offerings (a misspelling of Greek?)

Dan begins the day with a Bloody Mary.

I opt for the Maserati omelet.  It has Bolognese sauce on top!

Stepping up into the Wynn.

And signing up for the slot club (and $10).

My big Wynn.  Gambling is a serious business.

Classy ladies.

After all that, it was time to say goodbye.  Well, I thought it was.  This was before our three hour delay.

Reasons to love America #462

Enough said.

First birthday

Some very special people were born on August 4th.  Barack Obama, Louis Armstrong, the late Queen Mother, and me.  Last year that list was added to when Noa Burshtein arrived in the world (causing Moran to miss my birthday lunch.  I still haven't forgiven her).  So today we gathered at Uni Village to celebrate a successful year in which Noa has learned to walk, smile, talk, and wrap everybody around her little finger as every girl should.  Certainly more than I've achieved in the time, and she's only one thirty-fifth my age!

The birthday girl welcomes her guests.

And is careful to vet any images taken of her.  As an iPhone baby, she was also very unimpressed my camera didn't have a touch screen.

Some people flew in specially for the occasion.

Still only dancing with daddy...for now.

Hannah finds another favourite Israeli baby.

The happy family.  Thank you to Sagy for letting me steal this from his Facebook - you have a great photographer.

Six out, two in

It seems like only yesterday I was down at SFO.  In fact it was two days ago, but I returned to my favourite airport today to pick up Mat and Alana!  They've come to the Creek to find sunshine and avoid rioting and looting, and will be with us for the next few weeks.  Their flight wasn't the best - a two-hour delay and a broken entertainment system! - but I'm sure that just made the first cocktail of the holiday all the sweeter.

Safe in a civilised country.

When you're on your own

I decided that to help me get over the heartache of the Hammonds leaving, and to take a break in a full day's cleaning and tidying, I would take myself to the cinema.  I'm well aware what a great luxury it is to be able to go the cinema at lunchtime, but if you saw the amount of fluff I've hoovered up you wouldn't begrudge me.

Another great luxury is going to the cinema on my own!  I get to see whatever I want, without the guilt of forcing someone (i.e. Hannah) to sit beside me through some strange film.  She still hasn't got over The Cook, The Thief, His Wife, and Her Lover. I therefore took the opportunity to see Tree of Life, a lamentation on human existence by Terrence Malick.  It's only his fifth film in 40 years as a director.  He's an artist.

Hannah aside, who wouldn't want to see a two-hour-plus, impressionistic, virtually dialogue free, microscopic examination of the tragedy of the human condition?  Well, most people, it turns out.  There was a literal handful of patrons in the auditorium.  Accompanied by a packet of chocolate Hobnobs I took my seat.  A couple of old ladies doddered in during the trailers, started chatting, and didn't stop when the film began!  Thankfully these senile delinquents settled down a few minutes in, otherwise things could have become embarrassing when I was beaten up by two pensioners for asking them to be quiet.

So what was the film like?  Well, it was a series of fairly unrelated images, then a bit following a family in the 1950s, then the boy from that family grown up (Sean Penn), then what seemed to be the beginning of the universe, life starting on earth, dinosaurs - which was cool - back to the family, and possibly everyone in the world dying and ending up on a beach, or maybe Sean Penn waking up and it was all a dream.

It's always fun when people walk out of films like this because, you know, it confirms how high-brow I am to have the stamina to make it through.  The best film ever for that was Inland Empire that I saw with Mat and Andy back in the UK.  Crowds left at the one-, two-, and three-hour marks.  Andy suggested we should have a survivors photos at the end.  Today one couple lasted for most of it, but left with about twenty minutes to go.

Which is a shame, because they might have enjoyed the old ladies starting up their conversation again, when an image of a field of sunflowers caused one to comment how she never really liked the flower when she was younger, but now finds herself buying them all the time, and would the other lady mind explaining what the whole thing had been about, did the older son die, what was it trying to say?

What it was trying to say, I would have answered had I deliberately tripped her on the way out, is that ultimately we are all alone as we try to impose order on a cruel and random universe.  Or that we only find existential meaning and spiritual awakening through the family relationships we build in birth and death.  Or simply that dinosaurs are cool.

I contemplated all this as I imposed order on my cruel and random apartment.  Perhaps this was a comedy, the joke being that Malick can get me to wait six years since his last film, part with $7 for a ticket, spend over two hours sitting through it all, then ponder it for the rest of the day.  Can we know anything in this universe for certain?  Only that chocolate Hobnobs improve any situation, and that old people should be seen and not heard.

It has a really nice poster, mind you.

It's quiet. Too quiet.

So farewell, Hammonds.  We all took the BART to SFO earlier today, and after a lot of discussion by the check-in lady with her colleagues about how to arrange a family of six in a 2-5-2 seat configuration aircraft, I waved them goodbye as they were ushered into the "priority" line at security.  So there are some advantages to having children.

But what am I meant to do now?  I'm not sure I've ever had such an active three weeks in my life!  Cleaning and tidying will obviously take up most of tomorrow, but then...?  Yogurtland isn't half as much fun on your own.

The twins play us out with a song.

It took ten minutes to get through the BART gates.

Jacob and Rebecca guard the luggage.

There was a lot of emotion, tantrums and crying...and that was just from the check-in lady.

Final family goodbye portrait.

Ice cream ahoy!

It was from one maritime adventure yesterday to another today!  Sort of.  Old Navy is the main reason that Katharine likes to visit America.  It's a shop where you can clothe a family of six for not-too-much, and the morning was spent picking out just the right Hello Kitty top and Oakland As cap from our local store.  She was a little scuppered by the ten-item-fitting-room-limit ("per person?" she asked.  No, per room) but even that was negotiated fairly smoothly, one child at a time.  I should have bought shares in Old Navy before they arrived, in one morning it has beaten the US earnings slump.

As a reward to all, this afternoon included a trip to The San Francisco Creamery.  It's dangerous having such a delicious ice cream place on the doorstep, with such flavours as "snickerdoodle", "moose tracks", and "it's on like Donkey Kong" (Hannah's fave).  They also do a "kitchen sink" - eight flavours, eight toppings, whipped cream and three bananas.  If you can beat the previous record for finishing it you get free ice cream for a year!  It currently stands at a barely credible 7 1/2 minutes, but I wouldn't bet against Oliver if he gave it a try.  We stuck to sensible junior scoops, more than enough to power them around the swimming pool for the afternoon.

Mummy in her element.

Oliver, with a small haul.

Supermodels.

Jacob is pretty pleased too.

A shop assistant threatened to start charging us rent.

Later, Rebecca is supremely pleased with "bubblegum gummi bear".  Yes, bubblegum flavoured ice cream with whole gummi bears in.  And she finished it all.

Jacob went for "rainbow sherbert", and I hate to think what's in there.

Delicious, nutritious family meal.