Celebrity Hunter

By Donna Schwartz Mills
© 2001

It happens when you least expect it. You will be engaged in the most normal activity, like standing in line at the supermarket, and see someone you know in the next line. But in the split-second it takes for your inner computer to match the face with where it’s been seen, you realize that it was on TV and Horrors! You’ve been staring. You quickly look away and hope nobody noticed.

In Southern California, where such events can occur quite often, the natives know you must never acknowledge, point at or otherwise call attention to a celebrity in your midst. It wouldn’t be cool, and we want, above all else, to be cool.

This does not mean we don’t get a secret thrill when we’ve had a chance encounter with the rich and famous. We’re human, after all. We just keep quiet until we’re out of range. Then we trade the news of our sightings with our friends, like kids showing off their Pokemon cards.

Like one day last summer when I brought my daughter to her karate class on Ventura Boulevard.

‘I just saw Gwyneth Paltrow buying fish!’ announced one of the other moms, who had been buying aquarium supplies at a shop across the street.

‘I saw Madonna yesterday on La Cienega,’ countered another parent, who had been busy with a remodeling project. ‘She was buying upholstery fabric and was pregnant in a belly shirt.’

As I pulled out of the parking lot that night, I could have sworn Barbra Streisand was driving in the next lane, but the car was a Honda, so I could be mistaken.

A few weeks later, I had the pleasure of hosting my 11-year-old nephew for a week. He lives in Sacramento, 400 miles and a world away from La-La Land. He did not want to go to the beach, or Disneyland, or even Universal Studios. He wanted to see STARS.

Now, as common as celebrity sightings are in this town, you can’t just conjure them up at will. They’re a bit like earthquakes; sooner or later you know you’re going to have one, you just don’t know when.

But I aim to please, so each day of his visit, we went to a place where I’d seen someone famous in the past. Restaurants on Ventura… parks in Studio City… the mall in Sherman Oaks. We did not see anyone who looked vaguely familiar. Zip. Nada.

Our conversations went something like this:

‘There’s where we saw Sylvester Stallone playing golf.’

‘Who?’

‘We once saw Kirstie Alley and Parker Stevenson eating dinner at that table.’

‘Who?’

‘That’s where Wendy saw Gwyneth Paltrow buying fish.’

‘Who’s he?’

‘She won an Academy Award for Shakespeare in Love.’

‘That’s rated R. My mom won’t let me see that.’

My friends, who took a liking to Alex, tried to help. One, who works as a REALTOR in Studio City, took him on a drive through the neighborhood, pointing out the homes of Sarah Michelle Gellar and Melissa Joan Hart. But there was no sign of either Sarah or Michelle. Another friend, whose husband works on ‘The X Files,’ got us a pass onto the Fox Studios lot. Unfortunately, not much was happening that day, so we contented ourselves with strolling down the famous New York streets and admiring the paintings of classic Fox films that adorn some of the soundstages.

Alex went home without scoring one famous person sighting. His 12-year-old sister then took her turn to spend a few days with us.

Her first night, we ate dinner at a little neighborhood pub my husband and I go to often. In a far corner of the room, I heard a familiar voice. It was Rose Marie, from the old Dick Van Dyke show, still recognizable after 40 years, right down to the bow in her hair.

‘This will kill Alex,’ said his loving sister. ‘Let’s call him.’ ‘He won’t know who she is,’ I said. ‘Just knowing that WE saw someone famous is enough,’ she said.

Carly was right. His groan made her stay worthwhile to her.

But that wasn’t all. The next day, while lunching at California Pizza Kitchen, we saw another star of an old TV show. And the next day, we ran into another.

‘You’re killing me,’ said Alex.

It’s turned into a kind of game. Since that week, we’ve spied Harry Hamlin and Lisa Rinna, Frankie Muniz, Laura San Giacomo and David Duchovny. Each time, we call my nephew, who is looking forward to his next visit to L.A. If anyone famous is reading this, please drop me a line and tell me where you’ll be. I promise not to divulge your whereabouts (after all, that would not be cool). But if we can arrange a ‘chance encounter,’ you’ll make a young boy very happy. And afterwards, I’ll have something new to tell my friends…

Donna Schwartz Mills was born in the same Hollywood hospital as Liz Taylor’s kids. That building is now a Scientology Center, which she claims is proof of her credentials as a true Angeleno. Donna is the Webmaster Mommy of SocalMoms.com, a new resource for moms in Southern California. She is also the work-at-home expert behind the ParentPreneur Club … and recently edited ‘Baby Tips for New Parents.

La Salsa Cubana Experience

By Cherie Magnus

These days ladies alone do pretty well anywhere in the world they travel. The world has gotten used to women on their own in airports and hotels due to business traveling, and more recently, vacationing.

I’ve traveled alone in many countries and I wholeheartedly recommend it for those decisive independents who don’t get too lonesome at dinner. I’ve wandered by myself through Paris, Florence, Buenos Aires, as well as all over the United States.

But the one country where it doesn’t work out well is Cuba.

I had fallen in love with the country and its people in January on a cultural exchange in a group of about forty people. Not wanting to wait until it got too hot or until the end of the rainy season which would soon begin, I went back on my own in April. (To be sure I had my U.S. Treasury License to do research with me.) Wanting to avoid both the high cost and tourist ambiance of the big hotels, I rented a room in a crumbling 18th c. palacio on the Malecon, with a balcony overlooking the sea and the lighthouse across the bay.

The owner was friendly and accommodating, the location was fantastic, I had maps and a list of phone numbers of people I had met in January. Oh and the weather was perfect.

But I had a problem. I was an American woman. A tall, pale-skinned redhead, there was no way I could blend in as I always try to do wherever I go. It is impossible to walk down any street in Havana day or night without every man on it calling out to a female tourist. It isn’t dangerous, just not comfortable. Mostly of course it’s the younger men, and I suppose it’s equivalent to U.S. construction workers–just part of their macho roles as men. The older Cubanos’ machismo translates into courtliness.

I took a bicitaxi one afternoon from the Cathedral clear across town to calle San Miguel to deliver a letter from the States. The little old man cycled me over potholes and around pedistrians and trucks to the remains of an old hotel. Without comment, he chained up his bicycle and led me into the lobby, inquiring of several people the correct room. I could tell that there was no way he was going to let me fend for myself in that dark warren of habitacions, like a medina in Cairo. He was only satisfied when we found the correct room, which was divided into three tiny windowless areas altogether no bigger than a broom closet.

Two men were playing chess in the middle space in the front of the open door. When they didn’t understand my explanation of why I was there, the woman across the hall came over and instantly got a handle on the situation, and I delivered my letter.

The taxista was sitting in the shade by his bicycle when I came out into the sunshine, as I had asked him to wait for me. From there he pedaled me back across the square and plazas to El Floridita, where I had to change my $20 bill in order to pay him. Then I joined all the tourists drinking daiquiris and flashing their pocket cameras while posing in front of the Hemingway memoribilia on the walls. I joined a table of Belgian girls and we talked about Jacques Brel and sang some of his lyrics together. It felt good to be in a group of women.

A tourist woman alone feels vulnerable in Cuba wherever she goes, despite the policeman on nearly every corner day and night. She can’t lose herself shopping, because there isn’t any. People-watching on the Malecon or Prado is an open invitation to be hassled or hustled.

She’s more comfortable in the bars, lobbies and dining rooms of the tourist hotels because there is a security person for every few guests. But then she’s just meeting other tourists, and probably those from her own country. Cubans aren’t allowed in the tourist hotels, except in the public areas by special invitation.

This is the one country where I suggest going in a group. Especially if you are a dancer like me. In Buenos Aires I boldly go alone each night to the tango halls where I dance until dawn with no problems. There is a strict formal code of behavior there, and in my six trips to Argentina, I never once had any sort of difficulty.

Cuba doesn’t work like that. There are very few salsa clubs per se, and I wouldn’t recommend a woman entering them alone, hoping to dance, as she might in Buenos Aires.

The Cubans dance all the time, but informally at parties and casual gatherings. They can’t afford the clubs which are very expensive. And so it’s mostly other tourists who are at the clubs anyway.

So unless you meet local people who invite you to their fiestas, a Havana trip will not usually provide hours of salsa dance experiences.

Live musical groups perform in bars and cafes everywhere so you can listen to some great stuff, but in order to dance, you must bring your partner.

Women who want to dance salsa or to study folklore and religion or education or medical care in Cuba will learn more and have more fun in a group of like-minded individuals.

And as a matter of fact, I will be taking a small group of salsa dancers from Los Angeles in November 2001 to study Cuban music and dance, “The Salsa Cubana Experience.” Now that I know the ropes, I want to share what I learned about where and how to dance in Havana with other dancers, and to have fun in a mixed group of Americans and Cubans together. Also to help foster understand between our two cultures, where there is so much misunderstanding and misinformation. Let the music and dance bring us together.

With degrees in English, Dance, and Library Science from UCLA, Cherie has published many articles in professional journals and magazines. Her solo travels to Europe and Latin America have inspired several pieces published in Skirt!, PassionFruit, Moxie, JourneyWoman, Dancing USA, GoNomad, Open Spaces, Porthole, The Cusco Weekly, the-vu, and various online magazines. She was the dance critic for the Cerritos News in Orange County, California before moving to San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. She is currently at work on a novel situated in France, when she’s not out dancing. Follow her blog at http://tangocherie.blogspot.com/

Virtues of Soy. A review of the book by Monique N. Gilbert

By Jeffrey the Barak

In May 2001 an article by Monique N. Gilbert appeared in the-vu outlining Six Ways Soy Benefits Your Health

Monique just appeared in the-vu’s inbox one day with this short and straight to the point feature introducing us to the beneficial properties of soy as a food.

Monique sent me a copy of her book Virtues of Soy for review and I have to say, the claim on its cover that it is truly the only comprehensive soy reference manual you will ever need, is true.

There are other books about soy, and other cookbooks featuring soy, but this book is concise and to the point. It contains well researched and well written information about soy, and then, quite suddenly at the start of chapter 9, it’s a cookbook!

The first eight chapters cover in an easy to read manner, the history of soy as a foodstuff, the nutritional and beneficial compounds, the relationship between soy and the control of health concerns such as heart disease, strokes, high cholesterol, cancer, osteoporosis, menopause, diabetes, kidney disease and more.

Considering the high cost of healthcare and the more important consequences of poor health today, it makes sense to encourage the widespread use of soy as a foodstuff and this book makes the reader eager to do just that.

In an overview of soy foods, the author describes the various kind of food items made from or consisting of soy. Some, such as tofu are widely known and used, whilst others are generally only known by those who partake in Asian cuisine or commercial health food.

After reading just this chapter, (a five minute task) you will know as much as anyone what varieties of soy foods are available and where to look for them.

The first eight chapters alone would make this book a worthwhile addition to any collection, but the next eight chapters are composed entirely of recipes. As a cookbook it’s a delight to use.

Almost all of the recipes in the book are simple enough for almost anyone to follow successfully, and yet the variety of dishes covers the entire meal spectrum.

Everything from breakfast to salads to soup to pizza to entrees to sauces to deserts is covered. There are over 169 complete recipes here.

You could survive healthily on nothing but items from this cookbook for the rest of your life and never get bored, never crave anything else, never get fat and never consume any more animal products including dairy. And you could do all of this without any worry of missing any essential nutritional elements from your diet.

To sum up, if you need a book about all things soy, and an easy and fun way to bring a lot of soy into your diet, you couldn’t make a better choice than Virtues of Soy!

Virtues of Soy: A Practical Health Guide and Cookbook” by Monique N. Gilbert (Universal Publishers, $19.95).

Direct links to buy the book from Amazon or Borders or Barnes and Noble can be found at http://www.geocities.com/virtuesofsoy/ where the author also offers a PDF downloadable version for $9.00 (for those with computers in the kitchen.)