Newsletter

January 9th, 2012

Hip to be Square

I remember one time, when I was a little girl, arriving very hungry at a hotel. We had been in a car for hours and hours and hours, but this was a business trip for my mom that we kids were tagging along on, so when we finally got there, she had to go straight to a meeting. For this reason, my brother and I were allowed the exquisite, exotic pleasure of ordering room service. Anything we wanted, we were told. That meant pizza, of course! We were so excited, and so hungry, and then came the knock on the door, and pizza was in the room with us, and then we opened the little box… and it had raw carrots on it.

As you can imagine, this quickly became a difficult situation for everyone. We were so hungry, my brother and I, and now there was no prospect of eating in our future. Which is scary and painful, and meant that Mom was stuck with two crying kids and a meeting to get to. I wonder why this memory has stayed with me all these years. I can still see those shredded carrots today.

Well, one thing is certain, we won’t be pulling any tricks like that on you. Our general manager is, well frankly, too Midwestern for that. When she went to update the room service menu this time around, for example, she got very excited, and adamant, about putting popsicles on it. She’s very proud to offer tater tots as an optional side. Don’t get me wrong, our variety of salads, sandwiches, entrees and deserts is well rounded, assembled by a professional chef and will satisfy a wide range of cravings. The thing is, we just won’t be taking any risks, trying to get trendy, or anything like that. When you order off of our room service menu, you’ll always get what you expected.

January 8th, 2012

Don’t believe the hype

When I was growing up, Oakland was getting a lot of notoriety. It was poverty stricken, the crime rate was high and, as this was the dawn of rap, all of the difficulties of life on its streets were being articulated in this new and exciting way. Oakland’s danger took on a gritty glamour in this music, made it mythological to me. Somehow, in those years, it didn’t occur to me that it was the same Oakland I went to to watch A’s games, that normal place just a short little car ride away.

As you may have noticed, Oakland is back in the news again lately. Why it’s the most violent of all the Occupy camps is a question for a sociologist and not anything I want to speculate on here; what I want to say is that, just like when I was a kid, the real Oakland is so much different from what you see on TV. It’s on my mind because it’s on TV, I admit, but it’s because it’s looking so apocalyptic and scary in the news that I want to tell you all to go.

I was there yesterday with my brother. It was sunny, and warm enough to take our jackets off. We walked around Lake Merritt, watching birds and joggers, trying to pin down exactly what it is that makes Oakland feel so comfortable. We talked about its diversity, which feels, in a way that I’ve never seen anyplace else, complete. It’s also in this very sweet spot between urban and suburban, where you feel like you get the good things of each, without any of that pesky alienation. It’s affordable. It’s warm. There are views of the bay and the hills.

I’m asking you to go because it’s one of the treasures of the Bay Area and well worth an afternoon’s trip. I’m asking you to go now because it’s a treasure whose small businesses will suffer in the next months because it looks like Armageddon on the nightly news.

January 7th, 2012

A nice guy who isn’t finished

A few weeks ago I went car shopping with a friend. I learned a few things that day, one of which was that I should not go car shopping with a friend if I myself am so terrified by the idea of buying a new car. The other thing I learned is that selling forty cars in two months is a pretty difficult feat for a car salesman. And yet that is exactly what Brian, our bellman, did, in his brief little moment of car salesmanship. Talking to him, it’s not hard to imagine why. He has a slow, deep voice; you kind of have to wait for his words, but it’s worth it because the things he says are, well, fun to listen to, and it seems like he enjoys talking. Plus he has this Hollywood good looks thing going for him, like he could have had a part in one of those Twilight movies if he had been in the right place at the right time.

Brian has been with us for about a year, though it’s his second tour. He left the first time to go back to school, but then he left school because he thought that he should figure out what he wanted out of his schooling. And so he came back to us. Now he’s considering going back to school so that he can figure out what he wants to do. He’s untroubled by the contradiction. Talking to him, actually, I’m not so bothered by it either.

Here’s another little piece of Brian: In high school, he was a part of a performing arts program, a sort of school-within-the-school. He says he had no interest in theater or being an actor or anything to do with the aims of the program, he just liked the people involved in it. And then Mr. Uninterested put together a final project that was so creative, timely and well executed that not only did it earn him an A+, but he still gets excited reliving the details today. And don’t forget those 40 cars in two months. This boy’s got an interesting future ahead of him. For now, though, he’ll be happy to help you with your bags.

January 6th, 2012

So different from its cover

Have you ever been to a Thai restaurant that, for some reason, has a sushi menu? How about a Vietnamese place where you can get a hamburger? I once went to a Chinese restaurant where you could also order a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I am always suspicious of these places. I just don’t believe that a place can authentically represent two different cultures at the same time, and that opinion is generally supported by the generically greasy fare I am served in them. Normally I forgive places like this for two reasons: They are typically very cheap, first. And, second, I will mostly find myself in one only when there is no real other option.

A couple of years ago a bizarre little restaurant showed up in the neighborhood. Its name was Arya and it purported to serve Persian, Italian and American food. As we are surrounded by good food here and as nothing about this place suggested that it would be inexpensive, I assumed that the only relationship I would ever have to it would be to laugh at it when I passed, and for a long time this was true.

Then, a few months ago, they changed their sign. It now refers to itself as a “bar and grill”. They can’t fool me, I thought, it’s still the same culturally uncertain place it always was. It worked on our general manager, though, and she went even though we laughed at her for it. But she came back with stories of delicately balanced sweet and savory rice dishes and a very talented Persian chef with an unstoppable love for Italian cuisine, and demanded that it be written about here.

I went with my heels dragging, but I’m writing to you as a convert. I am sorry for being a judgemental ass. I’m sorry for all the other ways that I am judgemental in my life. I feel a little bit better because I know that they changed their sign because it was putting everyone, not just me, off, but, still. So, go, please, and help atone for my sins.

January 5th, 2012

Wide eyed white

The last time I was down in our little bar at cocktail hour, our general manager was raving about a sauvignon blanc from a winery called Flora Springs. She was so excited she gave me a bottle before I had even sipped from the glass in front of me, which, when I pointed that out to her, made no impression on the enthusiastic certainty of her gift. Thankfully I did like it because, clearly, there was no way it was not going to be the wine I wrote about this month.

The first thing to know is that the Flora in Flora Springs is a brand new centarian and the matriarch of this family vineyard. The second thing that stands out to me is that the next generation has just taken over. Two of Flora’s grandsons have recently inherited the family business and seem to be taking all the prescribed steps to bring themselves into the modern age. They’ve made, for example, a series of biographical “webisodes” on their grandmother that feature such things as her talking about her daily domino games. They’ve posted their Twitter feed on a page called “socialize”, and so you can see that someone tweeted that “the ’98 @FloraSprings merlot is bad ass”. Which, to their credit, is for sure the first wine I’ve ever recommended to you that came with that review.

It’s all so endearing. This is a now third generation winery that’s holding its own and making some really very nice wines. How to sell those wines is always the question. I love the earnestness of the Flora Springs’ use of all these tools that all of us are being told to use these days. The simple transparency of it reminds me of, well, the honest enthusiasm our general manager felt about their sauvignon blanc, actually.

December 20th, 2011

A warm winter wonderland

Here in California, we love the holidays as much as they do anyplace else. Our streets are glittering with lights, our ovens are filled with cookies and we’re bustling from party to party, just like the rest of the country. Sometimes, though, the details get a bit screwy here in the golden state. I guess because all the traditional seasonal activity isn’t necessary in these parts. It means something really different, for example, to light up the cold, dark, otherwise depressing winter days in Chicago, than it does to string lights on a palm tree. To carry a warm bag of freshly roasted chestnuts while walking around the freezing streets of New York City is a comfort that we just can’t relate to with flip-flops on our feet. Still, we too deserve a little romance!

This is the spirit that brings us the likes of snowfall inside downtown San Francisco’s Hyatt Regency. That’s right, no less than three times a day, through December 31st, it’ll snow inside the Hyatt. A white Christmas, after all, seems very important from everything that we’ve seen on TV. Except that in this case, if you want respite from the harsh elements, you’ve got to go outside!

In another twist on the same logic, downtown San Jose offers outdoor ice-skating for the holidays. It’s best not to think about how much energy it’s taking them to keep that water frozen and instead just enjoy skating in a T-shirt, under a clear blue sky, around a little grove of palm trees. With lights on them.

My favorites, though, are the ones that we’ve actually just bent to suit our needs, and the Surfing Santas are my favorite example of that. Every year, just after Thanksgiving, a cadre of Santa Clauses surfs into Santa Cruz. This makes sense; this belongs to us. And, truly, the icy Pacific is one of the few places in this state where the bulk of Santa Claus’ suit is actually justified. Everywhere else, you just end up feeling bad for the poor sweaty guy who’s stuck pretending he’s in Minnesota.

If you’re here with us this holiday, take a tour. There’re lots more little gems that I haven’t mentioned. Scantily clad Mrs. Clauses, iced mulled wine. You get the idea. Christmas in California!

December 19th, 2011

Holiday Love!

The holidays have become so controversial. Have you noticed? There’s a war on Christmas and it seems that each of us has got to choose a side. Yuck! I don’t know about you all, but it makes me miss my childhood. Everything seemed so simple then. The holidays were a time for extended family, special food, special clothes and twinkly lights all over the place, plus a hint of the possibility of magic. Maybe it was called Hanukkah in your house, or Kwanzaa, or Festivus. It doesn’t matter what name you use, we’re all celebrating the winter solstice, and we all stole it from the pagans. Now, though, the whole season has been politicized and commercialized and it’s hard to know if it’s our duty as Americans to spend lots of money in the next weeks and give businesses the holiday revenues they so desperately need, or if we should rise above capitalist pressures and act as if nothing special at all were happening at this time of year.

Well, we here at this hotel want only to be in love with the holidays. We come from so many different cultural, religious and economic places, and for each of us this is a special time of year, even if we’ll choose to express it in different ways. You, our guests, only complicate the variety. And it’s so great! We’re so grateful to live in a time and a place where we can be surrounded by such a diversity of experience. To be working in a hotel that receives guests from around the world, in the Bay Area, in the 21st century, gives all of us a special privilege. We are all wealthier and stronger for the ways that we meet each other here and, on the occasion of this holiday season, we would like to take a moment to acknowledge it. We’ve said it before and here it is again: This hotel is a community and we are so pleased that you are a part of it. Happy Holidays!

November 28th, 2011

Your voice

Filling out comment cards can, at least to me, feel like voting. It’s good to express my opinion, but what power, really, do I have to influence the world around me? Well this month, as proof that the people do have the power, I’m introducing you to our brand new linen re-use program. Some of you are wondering what that has to do with democracy, I know, but lots and lots of you are reading this and understanding that we read your comments and changed our hotel at your suggestion.

It’s the right thing to do, of course. A daily washing of every sheet and towel that makes even the briefest of human contact is as wasteful as you all told us it was. Almost none of you are doing this much laundry at home and we are all going to be intrinsically better people for our participation in this new program. Plus it’s going to save us money, which is itself kind of amazing. So often the pressure to “go green” involves adding to one’s cost of living, making it seem more like fashion for the privileged than a genuine bid to save the world. But I digress, as they say. The point is that, in spite of all the evidence of it being the obvious thing to do, this humble little hotel wasn’t making that change until you told us to. Inertia, habit, laziness and preoccupation with the failing economy are not even all the reasons why not. We just hadn’t gotten there yet. So, thank you! And please come back soon to enjoy this hotel that is now slightly better and slightly more your own.

November 27th, 2011

How to get above the masses

When people are listing the beautiful places to go in the Bay Area, a little town called Sausalito will often be at the top of the list. A lot of you have probably heard of it and some of you have already been there and so you know that there’s a reason it got so famous. It’s just on the other side of the Golden Gate Bridge, right on the bay, with a view that I recently watched nearly paralyze a couple of German friends I took there. Still, the town of Sausalito itself has become generic and over-commercialized, the way beautiful places that people like to go will.

If this is as tiresome to you as it is to me, here’s my suggestion: Drive to Sausalito. There is only one way in and you’ll get stuck in traffic along the water as your fellow tourists dally about, looking for parking, trying to figure out how their rental cars work, etc., which will give you plenty of time to enjoy that spectacular view of San Francisco. When you’ve had enough, cut into the hills behind the main commercial strip and start looking for a staircase. You’ll have to do a bit of weaving, but eventually you’ll find one and, in the meantime, the hills of Sausalito are a bit like an architecture museum. Parking will be easy up there, I swear, so as soon as you find some stairs, leave your wheels behind and start climbing. At the end of each staircase, you’ll have to cross a street and search a bit for the next, but it’s not very hard and it won’t be long before you cross into a wooded trail. Just a little bit further and you’ll have a view of the bay and the ocean at the same time. This is stunning and maybe enough, but if it’s not, you can follow the path down into the Marin Headlands. I don’t know why all the rest of the tourists aren’t doing this, but, thankfully, they’re not.

November 26th, 2011

Delicate business

Here’s something I never thought about before: The graveyard bell shift is one of the most delicate positions at this hotel. When Buddy, who’s worked that shift for the last three years, explained it to me recently, I was reminded of what a sensitive business we’re in. You come to us to take off your clothes, bathe and sleep; I don’t think that we, as people, are ever more vulnerable than when do those things. So, when we, as a hotel, agree to ensure that you feel completely comfortable and safe with us, it’s a pretty big responsibility we’re taking on. And one that I, the newsletter writer, can almost entirely forget about. As can, I would imagine, a lot of the daytime staff.

Not the graveyard bellman, though. It’s Buddy that’s here when things go wrong in the middle of the night. When you’ve got an important meeting in the morning and you should be sleeping, but something’s gone wrong in your room, as, we admit, does happen from time to time, it’s Buddy who knocks on your door to fix it. Even the managers are sleeping when Buddy’s on duty. He’s a problem solver, a forgiver of crankiness, a forgetter of bad hair. He’s a nice guy who moved to the Bay Area from California’s Central Valley because only McDonald’s was hiring. He’s happy to work through the night, happy with the comfort and security of his work here. He only just wishes that people would remember having signed a paper that said they would not throw parties when he has to come a break those parties up.