Pilar's cousin Lucia came to Las Vegas friday night with two of her friends from Barcelona. We took them to "Noodles" in the Bellagio and then to the patisserie. They were bemused by the Conservatory, which housed a super-cheesy "America" themed exhibit replete with huge robotic eagle chicks. If fascism and cheese had a one-night stand, that exhibit would have been the lovechild. Back to Noodles, I would not recommend it since their pad thai sucked (it was just tasteless lo mein), their service was abrupt and not responsive, and the decor was crud. Dim sum was ok, but sucked by NYC Chinatown standards. That's understandable and forgiveable because I don't think tourists at the Bellagio would know good dim sum if it jumped into their rectum and started moshing with razorblades. I shouldn't complain as Lucia very generously picked up the tab. I didn't have it in me to fight over the check. I've done it too many times, so if somebody puts up a fight, I don't second-guess. You wanna pay you pay. Lucia if you're reading this, thank you for lunch!!
Saturday Pilar and I visited Robber's Roost at Mt. Charleston for some limestone sport. My first climb was The Rooster, 5.10c or 5.11b with 5 bolt extension. I onsighted the 5.11b, although it sort of took all my available calories. My stemming abilities were not up to the task so I wasted energy in poor stances with my feet cramping up. Afterwards, I took some disappointing falls on a couple of 11s, purposely climbing when I was drained and partially pumped. It's part of my "sub-optimal" climbing regime where I'm trying to teach my body and mind to perform in less than prime conditions, which is often. I used to be one of those that wouldn't try something unless I was feeling strong or alert or just good in general. This even extended to the gym. I wouldn't hop on a problem if I just didn't feel energetic. Now I get on it precisely because I feel like doggy doo. Not sure if this is a good approach, but I think it's working. Of course, the obvious solution would be to get a good night's sleep and get in better shape for the approaches, but that's apparently too darn reasonable.
At the crag I had a Larry David moment: There was a japanese couple probably in their 50s and climbing strong as hell. They were resting in the shade when Pilar and I were leaving. But I forgot my climbing guidebook, which was on the ground beside the couple. It happened to be on top of an empty bag of Whole Foods brand teriyaki-flavored beef jerky we had eaten. Since Pilar was closer to the book, I pointed in the direction of the book (and incidentally the japanese couple) and exclaimed to Pilar, "Oh, I see the book. It's by the TERIYAKI!" The japanese man then covered his face with his hand in either an act of disbelief or disgust or both. I thought "Oh my god, he must think I called them "teriyaki" because they were japanese! Shit! Wait, I'm not some racist asshole! I meant the bag of beef jerky..." Well, there's no recovering from that, so I quickly exited stage left feeling like moron. Since the guy had the route wired, I bet they're locals and I'll probably run into them again. Joy.
This is a grasshopper that Pilar somehow managed to capture today.
My new 2001 4runner 4x4. Yay!
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