Sunrise, sunset

Blame the parents. Jonathan grew up without a tv - his parents proponents of quality family time. Me, I spent my Wonder Years glued to the set. When it comes to America I'm practically an expert, thanks to the tellie. I know one speaks of french fries, not chips, never to surrender your cutlery at an all you can eat buffet and all that glitters is gold. I've had to give Jonathan the run down on our American tour. This along with the Ipod tutorledge makes me feel like Henry Higgins to his Eliza Doolittle. I feel pretty, oh so pretty...

Yesterday (Friday) started with a sunrise trip a the Grand Canyon. We were careful not to take the 10 second tour, a stumble overboard. Truly amazing.

As we took our bus to the small airport hangar operating in the National Park, our driver told us of his famous children's book author sister, Lee Weatherly, his son and daughter ("my pride and joy") and his experience of being robbed on a Mexico bus. From banditos to one armed bandits: our next stop was Las Vegas.

Sunset on the Strip is breathtaking in its scale and audacity. In a reworking of the old tour edict, Las Vegas has a new marketing campaign that promises "what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas". But this city is hardly the soul of discretion. It's bold, it's brazen and it's big. I loved the city's excesses. We took in the sights and lights but didn't lose a dime. According to a fellow guest at the Las Vegas Club Casino coming out even is winning in this town.

Sunrise at the Grand Canyon, sunset on the Strip, via Rome

From San Fran, to LA, to Vegas to the Canyon - in a day

An Apple a day

After enviously eyeing up my new mini Ipod (leaving pressie from the RNZB) Jonathan decided to get one himself at Auckland dutyfree (with leaving gift vouchers from the Herald on Sunday). We've left our jobs but the music plays on...

He tells me he used to be ahead of the game in matters technological but now things have come to a pretty pass - he's having to receive tech tutoring from me in San Francisco's huge Apple store. Though I have to say, I'm more Granny Smith than Macintosh.

Jonathan, my old skool travel companion, has come over all Samuel Pepys and has been blogging religiously. So dear reader, here's what I have to say about the world: I'm slowly adjusting to white butter, people saying 'Dude!' without any hint of irony and streets that go into four digits. As the all pervasive McDonald's advertising says: "I'm lovin' it!"

The Mission and Castro - and we're not in Cuba yet

I thought the Milnes might recognise the sibling of the rocking horse Tobias, which dad made. Tobias' sibling seems to have fallen on hard times, faded and chipped in the window of a second hand store in a poorer part of urban San Francisco between hippy stronghold Haight Ashbury and downtown.

Earlier in the day we had visited the Dolores Mission, the oldest surviving Spanish Mission in the States, where Georgie is pictured in the cemetery, and then the Castro with its big rainbow flags.

Alcatraz, David's Diner and the cable car

San Francisco, wearing flowers and bad hair

Wind, steep hills - just like home really, except difficult to find a decent coffee.

We've got a room in a hostel near Union Square, from which Georgie has been hungrily eying Macy's and various other department stores. But apart from dinner the first night in a Chinatown restaurant, we've started most of our first couple of days from Fisherman's Wharf. Watching Tom and Jerry cartoons outdoors at The Cannery the first night, hiring bikes to cycle across the Golden Gate Bridge and through Sausalito and the Redwoods to Tiburon on our first full day, and visiting Alcatraz today.

We'll pad this out with pictures when we have a chance, but for now, as they say in the cartoons, "That's All Folks!"

Golden Gate Bridge bike ride

Grace Cathedral on California St

This cathedral, which describes itself as welcoming to all though based in the Episcopal tradition, was stunning for its windows, artwork, architecture and labyrinth. But most notable was its statement of intent:

A Place of Religious Immunity
If you are passing by and feel intimidated or angry because of religion, please know that there is immunity granted when you enter Grace Cathedral. Immunity from the ravages of religion and misuse of Divine revelation. You know from the past about inquisitions and crusades and witch hunts. You live in a time of religious military zealots, abortion clinic bombings, and TV evangelists attempting to take power in our land. How to avail oneself of the soul-inspiring testimony of religion through the ages and, at the same time, receive some guarantee of immunity from the power perversions that so often follow in the wake of religious strivings? How to find persuasiveness rather than coercion and will-to-dominate in religion? An answer is Grace Cathedral. Here operates an unconditional surrender to the freedom of God to speak to whomever in whatever language is understandable. In this space you can walk the labyrinth of life to the tune of the Spirit which you uniquely hear. Immunity from religious control is granted you upon entry. Grace offers "sanctuary" to everyone and promises this glorious freedom of God as the climate to eplore the healthiest living that religion affords.

A Place of Anonymity
If you are passing by and feel hesitant to join the ranks of a particular denomination or to buy into the creeds of millions, please know that most people who enter Grace every week are practicing no particular religious discipline. The rule of Grace is the stranger making himself/herself at home. All names are sacred here, but no one has to contribute one's name to a membership list to be taken seriously, Perhaps you quietly dropped by wanting to reconnect in your relationship with God. Or to confess shame. Or to surrender a burden. Or to pray for a loved one. Or to bask in the beauty of holiness. Or to meditate on a hard personal dilemma. Or to find a moment of peace. A cathedral has a high ceiling and long aisles to allow the contained soul an opportunity to venture forth in multiple directions without the encumbrances of forced community. Grace offers ages of spiritual space to which anonymous individuals may be on pilgrimage.

A Place of Unity
If you are passing by and feel that life is fragmenting into a vast number of irreconcilable, shattered pieces, then know that Grace holds an outrageous hope that, in God alone, all aspects of life are in unity. We believe that God is the Alpha, so in the beginning all aspects were in unity with God. God is the Omega, so at the end all aspects will be in unity with God. Now in the meantime, this unity exists in the brave hope of those who worship God. Grace seeks to keep this hope of ultimate unity alive. So we are called to extravagant hospitality "to all sorts and conditions" in the confidence that a gracious welcome is central to a cathedral's purpose. And yes, we are part of a specific religious tradition (Episcopal Church of the Anglican Communion). But we are so, not because one religious tradition exclusively contains all truth, but because when one goes on a long journey toward ultimate unity, one has to depart from one specific place. Grace Cathedral, Episcopal Diocese of California, is our last point of departure. And our companion and ultimate confidence is in the journey of Jesus Christ. We believe him to be the clear manifestation of God's love for the whole world and the expression that all life is in ultimate unity even beyond the finality of death. In the midst of what appears to be an ever-increasing fragmentation of life, Grace offers a House of Prayer for All People, an abiding hope that there is a Oneness at the centre of life.

When you enter Grace Cathedral, this immunity, this anonymity, this unity are pledged to you. May your time be blessed.

William E. Ewing
Bishop of California

Fisherman's Wharf and salt taffy

If everything seems a little blurred, there is a reason. We had arrived in San Francisco on Sunday after a 12-hour flight and had booked into the lovely Adelaide Hostel on Isadora Duncan Lane. (Apparently Duncan was a famous dancer, Georgie tells me). At Fisherman's Wharf, we had devoured a bag of mixed Ghirardelli salt taffy lollies while watching cartoons and a black and white Japanese samurai movie in the open air at The Cannery. So the lights on the walk home were probably blurred by the sugar high.