An Australian in Sonoma

“So has anyone commented on your accent yet?” my 23 year old friend from Boston, Andrew, asked me recently via a skype session.

“No, no-one,” I say. 

Andrew has somewhat of an obsession with Australians.  I met him while he was doing an internship at the company I was working with in Melbourne and despite our 15 year age difference; we bonded over Mad Men. The friendship was solidified when he introduced me to Game of Thrones and further endorsed Breaking Bad (my friend Renato had long been telling me I must watch it too).

Andrew had the typical American drawl and as a typical Aussie, I chose a nickname for him – not particularly original – I called him “Boston”.

Boston is now back in Boston, working in a great job after completing his information systems degree at Carnegie Mellon.  Thanks to Mark Zuckerberg, long distance friendships are made relatively easy these days – something called facebook?

In anycase, it’s always stuck with me that Andrew liked the way I speak.  Specifically, he liked the way I speak, because it’s with an Australian accent.

It was not until my first Saturday at Hawkes tasting room that I finally witnessed the true American amour for my accent.

Even though I’d been travelling through the States since March, people had obviously resisted commenting on it as an everyday citizen.  But working in the tasting room – it would appear I’m open game for inquiry.

“Where are you from – New Zealand or Australia?” one taster would ask. “Is that an Australian accent?” another would ponder.  “Whereabouts in Australia are you from?” was the most frequently asked, followed by “Oh, I’ve not been to Melbourne – or I’ve been to Melbourne!”

An Aussie in Sonoma is supposedly a curious thing.

Photo - me, pouring wine at Hawkes tasting room in Sonoma.

Napa vs Sonoma

I liken it to city mouse vs country mouse.  Sonoma is the country mouse but he’s sure dressed well.  Downtown Napa feels like it has extra gloss - town in Sonoma while so pretty – has more of a village feel.  And to raise a family, they say it takes a village. Sonoma feels like that, like mama’s opened her arms and is giving you a big, warm hug, whereas in Napa it feels like all the mamas are probably in pilates class.  

Napa is gorgeous country.  But it has a BIG reputation, and therefore it has to be a little bit snooty to live up to that, don’t you think?  I still think St Helena (in the Napa Valley)  - a stunning boutique town - and the Silverado Trail which is a long road with these huge, gorgeous Napa wineries lined up side by side is the closest piece of vista heaven in wine country I’ve come across in California. 

Photo - Regusci winery - Silverado Trail, Napa Valley

 

Time to settle the ‘Sideways’ score

After the film Sideways, word reached all the way to Australia that winemakers in the US were having a hard time shifting Merlot sales. Conversely around the same time as the film’s release, Pinot Noir sales surged.

I am now in California working at Hawkes’ tasting room in Sonoma and thoughts drift to the 2004 film.  It’s come up in conversation a couple of times with patrons and even though the two lead characters, Miles and Jack, didn’t reach this far north in their wine travels (they travelled Santa Barbara wine region), the running thread of ‘Pinot is good, Merlot is bad’ still sticks nearly 10 years from the film’s release.

“So, why did he have such an aversion to Merlot?” I ask my tasting room partner Douglas, a Sonoma local.

The he I’m referring to of course is wine-aficionado, Miles, who has a bordering on neurotic dislike of Merlot.

Let me segue to the Merlot we’re serving in Hawkes’ tasting room.  Our merlot grapes are grown on clay and shale, and make the best tasting grape possible.  The current release 2008 Merlot we’re serving in the tasting room is a superb drop.  I bought a bottle after my inaugural Hawkes’ tasting and selfishly enjoyed this by myself one weekend at my friend’s cute little art deco apartment in the Marina District I rented from her while she herself was at a bunch of wineries.

Douglas had a good theory.

“Well, for a long time, everyone was drinking Merlot. And it’s an easy grape to grow, so there was a lot of Merlot produced in California.  But not all Merlot produced tasted good. In fact, a large percentage of it was pretty bad.  So people, discerning as they are, were turned off.”

An irony in the film however, and the last laugh with Merlot, is that the red wine Miles so coveted and drank after the wedding of his best pal, is (I hear) a Merlot blend.

Photo - scene from the film Sideways.

The tree changer

Embarking on a life change can be akin to starting a new relationship.

Once you have committed to it, inevitably the sense of anticipation mixes with fear.  But it’s those butterflies in our stomach that keep pushing us forward and before we know it, we’re in, having turned our backs on life as we know it. 

In January this year I completed a 14 month contract with global firm, Mercer, and packed down the one bedroom terrace house I’d rented for six years to leave for India en-route to the States.

India was a burst of new experience, meeting fun and cheeky people, chalking up some amusing stories and revelling in the country’s plethora of colour, chaos, cultural sights and customs.

I had been saving for six months for the move abroad and in the Indian days of travel, money was not an issue.  Even better and factored into my plans, India is a cheap ticket to ride.

After six and a half weeks exploring the country’s north and south and a quick stopover in the phenomenal Tokyo, I arrived in the US. 

A trade commissioner friend of mine in Delhi and his visiting Australian pals had hooked me up with their Aussie mate, Hamish, who lives in San Diego. Kindly Hamish let me stay in his pad while he was away for work and it was here that I had a few days to acclimatise to the new time-zone and surrounds.

I would daily bike to San Diego’s Pacific Beach before sunset to watch the surfers and together we’d witness the glorious moment when the sun is swallowed up by the water.

Next I travelled to Portland, a heart warming experience, where I met a new Aussie friend through a mutual Melbourne connection and went wine tasting in the Willamette region renowned for its Pinot Noir. 

My next stop was Seattle where I hoped to find work. I met some great folks and made inroads on the PR market but I quickly learned Seattle’s cold weather was going to be a clincher: “It rains nine months of the year in Seattle!” (quote from the film Sleepless in Seattle).  I made the snap decision to move to where the sun shines – Los Angeles.

I hit a curve ball in that LA demands a car and immediately a chunk of my savings went to car rental and later buying a car.  As I watched my savings dwindle, the sense of urgency to find a job ‘tout suite’ kicked in.

In my tree change, I had been away from Melbourne for four months and in LA for two, when the real doubts kicked in about finding relevant work.  I was dumbfounded - why wasn’t this moving?  LA is full of PR people.

When I felt I had done as much as I could to lay the foundations, I decided to break in San Diego (Hamish was away again with work) and reacquaint my love for the sun, beach, surfers and laid back lifestyle.

After San Diego, Fred (the name I coined for my Ford Explorer) and I made our way up to San Francisco.  I enjoyed a flirtatious interlude with a charming Mexican young man who I met at the former home of the late Indian guru, Krishnamurti, at the PepperTree Retreat in the gorgeous little hippy town of Ojai.

And now I’m in San Francisco.  Re-defining the job parameters (it’s all about tech and thus for me it’s now all about Tech PR) and I’m pressed forth with a fresh surge of positivity and enthusiasm.

Fortunately I’ve experienced some short-term reprieve on the savings drain in that a friend of a friend asked me to housesit their Oakland home for two weeks while the family holidays in France.

Throughout the months I’ve checked in with friends and family to catch-up on news as well for counsel and support, and I’ve maintained a weekly skype slot with my dad.

Like any relationship worth holding onto, it’s not always smooth sailing, but ultimately we persist because deep down it feels right.

Photo - the carefree days. Cappucino time-out at The Imperial Hotel in New Delhi, India.

Ma Festival welcome

The following is a draft welcome message written for the Ma Festival program booklet. I've posted it here to help keep alive my vision of bringing a yoga festival to Australia and potentially New Zealand.

“Ma” is Hindi for “mother”

It all begins with your teacher.

It didn’t take me long to work out my best performances in life have been orchestrated in partnership with the right teacher. I’m sure if one casts their mind back to their school days, even as early as kindergarten, there will be a teacher you were drawn to and resonated with.

I remember my mother and me giving my early grade teacher in Darwin pot plants as a thank-you at the end of school term. Of course at four or so years old, I can’t really remember what the teacher looked like, but I remember the way she made me feel.

And my grade 3 teacher - I don’t recall his name but I remember him because he was a great teacher. 

In year 7, there was a teacher from America at my primary school in Alice Springs who helped to cultivate leadership qualities in me - president of the student representative council as well one of the leads in the school play.

Then I remember the yoga teacher who, inadvertent to him, was responsible for the start of my yoga journey.

His name is Johannes and his commitment, respect and dedication to yoga inspired me. Johannes taught Iyengar and Bikram yoga classes.  

As yogis we gravitate to a particular style and the more we practice, the more inclined we are to align ourselves with certain instructors.  

Once you’ve found your teacher – it’s a magnificent course that follows.

That’s why when I discovered Shiva Rae and Saul Raye David in Los Angeles I knew I had hit on something special.  

In my first class with Saul David Raye, I knew I must do whatever I can to bring both he and Shiva to Australia as part of a Yoga Festival.

The yoga community is burgeoning in the States and we have a healthy representative of yogis in Australia too.  But in the 10 or so years I've been regularly practicing yoga, I've never quite experienced anything like Shiva and Saul make you feel.

Thank-you for joining me at the inaugural Ma Festival and in helping to make this part of the new evolution of Festival in Australia.

I trust Australian yogis will be as inspired and motivated by these phenomenal teachers as I am.

As well, enjoy the Kirtan, motivational talks and meditation that helps Ma Festival become your home for three days of spiritual and transcendental experience.

Welcome and Namaste

CAZI James

Be like the bee that gathers pollen from many flowers and then makes its own honey. Learn from the greatest masters you can find and then practice and assimilate what you have learned.

Abhinavagupta Kularnava Tantra

The above quote was sourced from Saul David Raye’s website:  www.sauldavidraye.com

Photos:

1&2.  Yoga instructor and Kirtan singer Saul David Raye

Los Angeles - the City of Angels

I first came to Los Angeles when I was 23 years old and the night before I was due to fly back to Australia, the woman at my hostel’s front desk asked if I could stay on and work.

In hindsight I remember thinking of this as a bit of a sliding doors moment, I could have stayed in LA but instead returned home. 

The pull of LA must have continued its draw as 15 years later I find myself here again trying to carve out a life for myself. 

My American friend, Rane, says LA is special (something about an energy vortex and magnetic field) and it’s no coincidence, she says, that people follow their dreams here.

Rane has spent a lot of time in India and she told me her swami (a Hindu male religious teacher) observed LA's high spiritual activity when he visited.  

Long before I met Rane, I read Anthony Kiedis (Red Hot Chilli Peppers' lead singer) auto-biography during a travel safari in Africa.  I recall Anthony’s experience with LA's divine intervention.   

The story goes something like this: 

Anthony was fumbling for his house keys after a heavy night on the drugs (not unusual for him at this time) when he was distracted by a black crow staring down at him. When he looked up, their eyes met and the crow proceeded to screech at him.  Anthony freaked out; viewing this as a sign. The crow, a symbol of the mystic messenger, brought with it a warning: evil is among you. He needed to clean up his act.

After a few weeks in LA, I decided to get with the spirit (if you can’t beat 'em, join 'em) and attended “An Evening with the Archangels” at the Mystic Journey bookstore on Abbot Kinney (a hip street in Venice). 

Two others showed up to the workshop run by ‘angelic healer, spiritual coach and psychic’, Marybeth Murphy. 

It says on Marybeth’s website (www.marybethmurphy.com):

What are Guardian Angels?

They are God’s messengers and helpers and are sent to assist us in any aspect of our lives. They bring thoughts of love, peace and joy and can help us heal our relationships, career concerns and finances. Your Guardian Angels are only assigned to you; their job is to just assist you, no one else. 

At the workshop Marybeth counted three guardian angels around me and the other attendees had two. Even though I doubted her ability to see angels (apparently they show up as white lights, columns per se behind and beside you), I felt rather special about having three guides to the others’ two.  But Marybeth said it’s not like this – there’s no competition in angel land – two is as good as three. 

A few weeks later I’m dining solo at the Japanese restaurant, Wabi-Sabi, on Abbot Kinney. I’ll often take advantage of Happy Hour, a mainstay in many restaurants where for an hour or two food and beverage is at reduced prices. 

I spotted a woman at the counter who looked around my mother’s age when mum died. 

The woman had brown hair (like mum) and a similar haircut. Her mannerisms (smiling, curious and a gentle way) were the same. I watched her as she ordered from the sushi chef and later as she ate her meal. 

Even though it’s been nearly 17 years since my mother died – she came sweeping back into the restaurant.  This woman reminded me of her.  

Incidentally, this has happened before, not often, by no stretch often, but once in a rare while I’ll spot a stranger who bears resemblance to my mum. 

Tears began to well and fell down my face, I didn’t wipe their flow.  I hadn’t been drinking so it wasn’t a drunken melancholy prompting me to cry. I think the waitress noticed and perhaps other waiters too as they walked by.  The sushi chef smiled at me from behind the counter and bowed his head in greeting. 

I watched the woman for a good 15 minutes. When I’d managed to stop crying, she would do something like my mother which triggered the tears again. 

I looked out across the street and saw the word 'MOM' in a shop window display.  It was a paper gift shop and each letter was filled with paper flowers. Mother’s Day was soon. 

I smiled.   

Whether or not I’m fantasising the coincidence, it felt like something mum would do. Send a message through the woman and confirm it was her with the MOM sign.

I’m here even when you feel alone.   

Mum and my three spirit guides looking out for me in the City of Angels.