About seven years ago, Kim and I were headed to a motorcycle ride that was to take us all across the mainland of Greece. In searching for the cheapest business class seat to that distant locale, I found that Turkish Airways had a great flight direct from JFK to Istanbul. From there it was a small hop to Athens. Since Kim had always wanted to go to Istanbul and I hadn’t been there for a number of years, we decided that a pre-trip stay for a few days there would be good fun. It just so happened that Turkey (specifically its president, Recep Tayyip Erdoğan) was in a snit with the new Trump administration, and in a classically foolish maneuver, was boycotting American tourism to Turkey by not granting tourist visas to Americans. Being the big advance planner that I am, we already had our Turkish visas, so we did not get caught in this silly bite off your nose to spite your face maneuver. We were staying at the Four Seasons Sultanamet, which is the converted old prison featured in Midnight Express, just next to both the Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sofia, probably the biggest tourist attractions in Istanbul. We were the only Americans in residence, which was a strange feeling to say the least.
I had recently been introduced to a New York entrepreneur who had a venture focused on synthesizing ammonia without the cracking of hydrocarbons, using what is called solid oxide electrochemical synthesis. It was hardly an area of expertise for me since I had barely passed my freshman chemistry course in college (it was considered the STEM men versus boys separator and I was clearly not manly enough for its rigor). Nonetheless, I was being courted to become this venture’s CEO for totally inexplicable reasons other than my possible ability to attract capital to it. Step one was to convince me that the technology was real and special enough to promote. As coincidence always seems to have it, the best validator of this whiz-bang stuff was resident in Istanbul. I was being asked to pay this renowned scientist a visit in order to convince me that it was all worth pursuing. While Kim and I breakfasted in the near empty courtyard cafe in the old penitentiary, I got a call from this great scientist asking me to come and see him at his lair up overlooking the Bosphorus towards the Black Sea. Peter Ustinov in Topkapi could not have spun more intrigue into my strange sojourn to Istanbul.
To make a long story short, I went to the Black Sea and got convinced by this noted and tenured Stanford University Physicist who had run the NASA space lab for fifteen years, that the new ammonia technology was the next great turning point for humankind (no exaggeration on my part). When I returned to New York in a few weeks (after consulting the Oracle at Delphi along the way), I accepted the CEO posting and started a three-year journey of discovery that had me traipsing through ammonia plants on the coast of Morocco and in the middle of the Punjab of Pakistan (with AK-47 toting armed guards). It was a new and interesting chapter of my business life that bordered on both the sublime and the ridiculous simultaneously. I had thought my days of commercial whimsy had ended with my near-successful erection of the worlds’ largest observation wheel on New York harbor, but it seemed that the calliope was still playing circus music in my head.
After a fitful three years at the helm of this Pigpen of a company, they owed me almost $500,000 in unpaid compensation, for which I accepted a due bill of senior positioning against the company’s Scottish assets. The owners eventually sold the assets in liquidation. The receivership process has been running its course and I am awaiting a settlement offer from the lead director. Let’s just say there are a number of creditors who feel it is THEY who have the priority claim…hence the need for a settlement. It’s all supposed to happen by Christmas.
So, Kim and I picked up Gary & Oswaldo in W. Hollywood today, We did our usual stop for lunch with her sister Sharon and hubby Woo,, this time in Moorpark. From there we hugged the coast up to Solvang for a holiday market weekend. We are here for Solvang’s Julefest, a Danish Christmas holiday tradition. In 1911, a group of Danish immigrants founded the town of Solvang specifically to preserve and promote Danish culture way over here on the West Coast. The name Solvang translates to “sunny fields”. The land purchased by these Danes that now constitutes the town, surrounds the historic Old Mission of Santa Inés, which was established in 1804. In the 1930’s, residents began building homes in the Danish medieval style. In 1947 a Saturday Evening Post article brought Solvang to national fame for its quaintness. The movie Sideways in 2004, gave the whole world a glimpse of the town. And then in 2009, Solvang was named a Preserve America Community. This helped make California the state with the largest population of people of Danish descent in the United States.
The town has hundreds of little holiday shops and even has a small Viking museum. It is a real anachronism in central California. We attended the opening of the Julefest with music, singing, Danish folk dancing, colorful tree lights galore and, yes, Santa Clause and some elves. We will spend tomorrow further canvassing this little holiday village, pumping up the seasonal holiday spirit and communing with all the Danish traditions. Remember, it was the Danish Vikings who first ravaged and overwhelmed the Scots and installed King Harold, who is honored on the Bayeaux Tapestry, copies of which hang in our home. As I await my payout being held hostage by the present-day Scots, I’m wondering if I should recruit a few local Vikings from Solvang to straighten things out.
I wish I thought it possible to strongarm the Scottish receiver to release our funds, but I suspect no Viking is that powerful. At this point, I’m thinking that my best bet for any payout at all is for the Solvang Santa to come down the chimney with s bag full of money from the North Pole. I suspect I would settle for 10 cents on the dollar rather than suffer the lump of coal I’m likely to get from this old obligation. Well, at least Solvang is putting me into the holiday spirit and taking my mind mostly off the Celtic battle axe coming down on my neck. Tell me, is Santa Scottish or Danish? Turns out I know the answer to that one and can unmask that mystery. His origins are back in Turkey (I’ve actually been to his home town) where all these good intentions began on all sides.