RIP Mark Strand

Mark Strand (1934-2014)

Cat in a Hat by Rene Magritte

Canto XVI
-from Dark Harbor

It is true, as someone has said, that in
A world without heaven all is farewell.
Whether you wave your hand or not,

It is farewell, and if no tears come to your eyes
It is still farewell, and if you pretend not to notice,
Hating what passes, it is still farewell.

Farewell no matter what. And the palms as they lean
Over the green, bright lagoon, and the pelicans
Diving, and the glistening bodies of bathers resting,

Are stages in an ultimate stillness, and the movement
Of sand, and of wind, and the secret moves of the body
Are part of the same, a simplicity that turns being

Into an occasion for mourning, or into an occasion
Worth celebrating, for what else does one do,
Feeling the weight of the pelicans' wings,

The density of the palms' shadows, the cells that darken
The backs of bathers? These are beyond the distortions
Of change, beyond the evasions of music. The end

Is enacted again and again. And we feel it
In the temptations of sleep, in the moon's ripening,
In the wine as it waits in the glass.

So You Say

It is all in the mind, you say, and has
nothing to do with happiness. The coming of cold,
the coming of heat, the mind has all the time in the world.
You take my arm and say something will happen,
something unusual for which we were always prepared,
like the sun arriving after a day in Asia,
like the moon departing after a night with us.

More poetry by Mark Stand

Bat cave Buddhas and bats

To make the most of our visit to Khao Yai National Park we stayed two nights at Greenleaf Tour's guesthouse. We took a van from Bangkok, arrived in the afternoon and after lunch a small group of us piled into the back of a pick-up truck outfitted with benches and a roof and set out with a guide to see the bats.

Whip snake along the road

We hadn't gone five miles when, unexpectedly, the truck pulled over and our guide jumped out. We scrambled after him into the trees and when we caught up he was gently lifted a long, thin silver snake off a branch. It blows my mind that he actually spotted it from the truck at about 40 mph. but he really did have eyes like a hawk.

Another amazing earthling

But more impressive to me was how carefully he handled every creature he found and showed us along the way, and there were many.


Bat and Buddha cave near Khao Yai National Park

The first cave we visited was a huge underground world. There we had the pleasure of meeting phantasmagorical insects, an enormous cave dwelling serpent and some subterranean Buddhas serenely residing in the perpetual dark beyond the bottom of the stairs.

Bat cave Buddha

Bat cave resident

Another bat cave Buddha

Another bat cave resident

At one point, pure luck, we saw a colony of tiny bats emerge from their tiny cave within the larger cave's wall.

Twilight in the bat cave

I don't know if we disturbed them or happened upon them just as they were leaving for the night's hunt but according to our guide, even for him, it was a rare sighting.

Snacking on pineapple, waiting for twilight

The big event was watching some two million wrinkle lipped bats leave their hillside cave at twilight, and leave they did, like a rushing river. We watched for about an hour as they wound their way out over the fields for the night's hunt. They consume billions of insects a night and a few hawks swoop through their ranks hoping to consume a few of them. When we left, they were still streaming out.



Two million bats leaving their cave at twilight
The sound and rhythm of their wings resembled breathing and, mixed, with the singing of the insects, it was like nothing I've ever heard before yet it was comforting and familiar like the sound of the ocean or the nearness of a beloved.

Yes! An elephant!

Khao Yai National Park.

YES! We did see an elephant in the wild. One. And, after repeated reminders that it not a given, one was one more than any of us thought we'd see. Khao Yai is a huge park and the elephants there roam free.

There are no elephants for people to "pet". There are no elephants for people to ride. The park rangers do put salt blocks and some hay out by the road in hopes of occasionally attracting them into view but, for the most part, they are off on their own in the tall grass and forest deep.

We just got lucky. One of the guys in our group, Paul from Wyoming (the guy in the blue shirt), spotted him from the back of the truck as we were driving. Then we all started shouting at once. I pounded on the roof of the cab. Our guide immediately stopped, threw the truck in reverse, backed up, pulled off the road and parked.

Everyone, including the guide, jumped out, cameras in hand, and ran up the path after him. Of course rule number one is don't harass the wildlife and we were good. In spite of our excitement, we did keep our distance.

It was a lone male returning from the road after enjoying the salt block, ambling slowly along the path through the tall grass heading back to the forest.

We all managed to get a few photos before he strolled up over the hill and out of sight.

Our guide explained that because elephants in the wild can graze all day in the delicious tall grass they are, in general, much fatter than elephants in captivity. This fellow certainly proved his point.

Elephants, maybe

We're leaving in the morning to spend a day and a half at Khao Yai National Park where we might, if we're lucky, see some elephants. I'm not getting my hopes up. The elephants in Khao Yai are wild, not prisoners in some cruel roadside petting zoo. I hate things like that. But, regardless of what we may or may not see, it will also be nice getting out into nature for a bit. Bangkok is a fascinating city but it's also like being rumbled around in the very noisy gut of a gigantic beast.

We'll leave about 9 am. It won't be fun rolling our suitcases to the sky train. The sidewalks are very irregular but we've done it before plus it's only a couple of block to the station and there's an escalator. Then it's two stops to Victory Monument which functions as the hub for vans and buses going all over the country. There's no escalator back to the street we want so, when we get there, we'll have to bump our suitcases down three flights of stairs. That'll suck but, again, we've done it before. We booked a tour with Greenleaf and that's where we get the van. Then it's about a two and a half hour drive from Bangkok to Khao Yai. When we get to the park, we'll drop our bags in our room, have lunch at the guesthouse and then they'll take us out for the afternoon to see what we can see. And we'll be out all day next day. M. Lee, who did this tour a few years ago and didn't see any elephants, assures me it will be a very long, very bumpy day in the back of a pick up truck. Can't wait.

Morning report

I can't figure out exactly what's going on at Villa Ratchathewi, the place we're staying in Bangkok. Don't get me wrong. I love our apartment and our host. The apartment itself is wonderful, quiet, airy, well lit and I love the view of the city from the bathtub. Plus, our host immediately replies to our emails. It's another fantastic find via airbnb, It's just that the lobby seems more like a student lounge and study hall than the lobby of an apartment building. We almost never see any adults around here. It's not that expensive by US standards but how can these kids afford to live here? Other than the old Chinese lady in the gym, who is perpetually walking on the world's squeakiest, most rickety treadmill, it seems there are almost no other adults in the building, and by adults I mean people over, oh say, twenty or twenty-five. And no. It's not because Asians look young longer than Westerners. Trust me. These are kids. So what exactly going on at Villa Ratchathewi? It's all very odd.

Clearly, the old woman is up to something. Whenever we go to the gym, she's there grinding away on that goddamn treadmill. She's there when we arrive and still there when we leave. I suspect she is the one who powers the Reality Generator at the hub of the universe and is responsible for maintaining the entire Cosmic Show. There is no other explanation. If she were to stop walking we'd all disappear. Don't worry. We'll never notice we're gone.

Frogs doing it in a mall pond

The other notable thing about this place besides, like I say, the bathtub in the window, is the mosque which we can see from all the windows. The first chant is before sunrise. It's really more like an open throated yell. The first few days, when we were still jet lagged, it was really annoying. It felt like 2 AM and neither one of us could get back to sleep. Then I got accustomed to it and one morning I actually got up and checked the time, 5 AM. Not so bad really. In the yoga community where I used to live, we started at 4 AM. According to a national survey at the time, our Society was ranked the most despised neighbor in America. People dreaded living near us more than they dreaded living near gang members. Anyway, the following morning, when the chanting began, I awoke to the charming mental image of a lone desert Mullah chanting in the courtyard of an outpost white stone mosque as a gigantic orange desert sun rose over the vast Sahara, its rays streaming across the horizon into the otherwise indelible silence. Then last night, we realized the chanting is a recording. Talk about buzz-kill. Plus, I just noticed that I dropped one of my ear buds in my coffee.

Bangkok massage parlor

Red pants and tennis shoes

One happy, very fashionable little lady

Saturday and Sunday we went to the Chatuchak Weekend Market. aka the JJ Market. Bangkok is full of big glitzy and and some very high end malls but, among them all, the Chatuchak Market is legendary. It's one of the largest markets of it's kind in the world and the first time or two wandering through, seems infinite. These photos are misleading because the street is still empty. I took them early Sunday morning before people started arriving but every weekend, without fail, thousands attend. Even as we were leaving on Saturday afternoon, throngs of people were still streaming in*.

She and her "mom" are vendors at the market

We spent a lot of time at the market last time we were in Bangkok and it's the first place we headed when we got back. There's good people watching, a vast, eclectic array of goods and great prices. And this is a big plus, the Chamlong Asoke's Buddhist vegetarian outdoor food court is near the market so we always go there for lunch. The population is 97% Buddhist but it's hard finding vegetarian food in Thailand.

JJ Market coconut water man

*Footnote:
In the comments, Mr. Donut posted an interesting detail about the Chatuchak Market. Thanks Mr. D.

"It's more than a hundred thousand visitors per day or something like that, but it feels at times like a million all trying to cram into a closet."

Hi from Thailand

Bangkok graffiti

Notes on the fly

Thriftstore deco pop art plate
Price: $20
Artist unknown

We left New York on Friday and flew to Los Angeles where we spent a few days doing the town with M.'s mom. That is, we took her to her favorite charity thrift shops. She had a great time and even came away with a few super bargains. Just for the record, the broken glass and toys deco pop art plate pictured above was not among them. And we went to MOCA (Museum of Contemporary Art). After seeing the Jeff Koons retrospective at the Whitney in New York, I was prepared to be unimpressed by their Warhol exhibit but big surprise! Shadows was delightful.

Warhol - Shadows
MOCA, 2014

It is a single work composed of 102 variously silkscreened and hand painted canvases. The images are based on two impressions of a shadow in Warhol's studio. A few minutes in the room and my dismissive attitude melted under their unobtrusive and oddly soothing sway. All together, the paintings are charming in the way a chant is charming or yes, okay I'll say it, an afternoon shadow. Because of its size, this is only the second time Shadows has been shown in its entirety. The curator describes the collection as a "haunting, environmental ensemble". Even though it's a Warhol, for once I agree the rhetoric.

And as I'm on the subject of works by Anointed Ones such as Warhol, Koons and Wool, I recently read a thread on Metafilter about why their art is so "valuable". Warhol's picture of a coke bottle recently sold for $57.8 million and Koons' Balloon Dog (Orange) sold for $58.4 million, a new high mark for a living artist. Considering the relative inanity of these "masterpieces", this may leave one wondering what the fuck IS art anyway? Without going all "art speak", the very pinnacle of pomposity, it helps to keep in mind that the value of any work of art is arbitrary and personal. Consider those stick figure drawings your toddler gave you back when. Priceless. Just so, in a lessor fashion of course, it is not hard to see why billionaires treasure works by the Anointed Ones. Buying and selling these "masterpieces" allows them to legally move great gobs of money around. The upscale Art Market could be otherwise called the Billionaire Laundromat.

"Apocalypse Now"
Price: $26.4 million
Christopher Wool

And now, after traveling for 45 hours, we're in Bangkok. I count that time from Los Angeles when we got up in the morning to Bangkok when we finally got to bed some two nights later, after dinner and walking to the Big C for bananas, oatmeal and instant coffee for breakfast. We're staying in an apartment M. Lee found on airbnb. It costs $60 a day, which is a lot more than the $9 a day room we had in Chiang Mai last winter, but it's Bangkok and in a great location.

Inflight map

For the record

Ordinary day at Times Square
NYC

As I was saying, Bloggoroid gobbled up the post I tapped out yesterday on my phone during our bus ride into the City. I no longer scream when these things happen. Some of my losses have been far worse. We all know it's part on life online so here goes again. What follows is a list, mostly without comment. If I have time for more, I'll add it at the end.

NY Times
from Port Authority Bus Terminal

In the week we've been in New York, we've seen two Broadway plays, "A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder" and "It's Only A Play". Wonderful. We caught the Jeff Koons exhibit at the soon to be "old Whitney".  One of his pieces fetched the highest price ever received by a living artist but, IMO, he's not an artist but a designer of over-sized kitsch that, if shrunk down to regular size, I wouldn't pay a dollar for. But then, that's "art" in the world of high finance. We have eaten in a variety of places. Because M.'s mother's tastes range from Michelin Star restaurants to skeevy Chinese noodle and dumpling houses, we've eaten at both. And yesterday we made a pilgrimage to Yonah Schimmel's Knish Bakery in the Bowery, a favorite from Kathy's time in the City during her youth. Also, we visited the Metropolitan Museum of Art twice, munched on sandwiches in Central Park, took what seems like a thousand cold-hearted subway trains and enjoyed our daily short, civil bus trip from New Jersey to Manhattan and back.

Graffitti
Chinatown, NYC

New Jersey itself is perhaps the most pleasant surprise of all. It's quiet, clean and residential with wide sidewalks, trees and a million, no, a three million dollar view of the City across the Hudson. It's a Latino Mayberry. If you don't know what Mayberry is/was, I mean to say it's America circa the 1950s complete with high school football practice and tree-lined streets. If it has a seething, gang-ridden underbelly I am totally, and blissfully, unaware of it.

Kathy at Prosperity Dumpling
Chinatown, NYC

As for the streets of New York, they are a panoply of languages. Mid-town and down, is the center of the hive and chaotic circus complete with food carts, wandering Spidermen, Gumbys, Cookie Monsters and every other cartoon and fantasy character, every kind of fashion, nearly naked ladies, hell fire preachers, millions of pounds of squishy tourists, sly hustlers, bustlers, immigrants, cops, military, rich, poor and inbetweens. The buildings themselves have been transformed from their original brick and stone into dazzling, ricocheting video screen mazes designed to stun and hypnotize and do. Oh, and this weekend the International Comic-Con is happening so today the streets should be extra freaky.

Ordinary day at Times Square
NYC

Oops. M. Lee just jumped up and announced that he miscalculated the time. Okay. Sorry. No time to edit this. I'll fix it later. I hope my mistakes aren't too egregious. I'm sure I'll be embarrassed when I read it later but I'm determined to post something. Otherwise, I post nothing.   So.... photos to follow.

The Elms
Bowery

Bloggeroid ate my post

I did a more complete post on the bus coming in from New Jersey but the blogger app ate it. This one I'm doing as we wait for the day's sandwiches to be made. Today we're going back to the Met. OK. That is all.

posted from Bloggeroid

NY street scene

This will have to be quick. You know how it is. We were supposed to leave at 11 AM and it's already 10:55. Oops. :56.

We're in New York with M.'s mom. Her treat, we're going to a Broadway play this afternoon. Don't ask which one. I don't remember. I've got bigger things on my mind, such as downloading my photos from yesterday. M. and I sat out on Times Square on small red metal folding chairs while his mom shopped at H&M. It was a circus. Of course,  my photos are no different than the thousands, perhaps millions, of other photos people took of the place yesterday but here's one of mine.

NYC, Times Square street scene

Notes on last summer

Grammatically correct Bangkok graffiti.

Old editors don't die. They just wander the world critiquing graffiti. Never mind the expression. It's typical of the trade. The Language Barrier's Itinerant Editor is actually expressing pleasure over the correct use of the apostrophe. Thus we are going back to Bangkok for more. Before we leave, I have much to do. That is why, of course, I am doing a blog post which I must begin with a lament.

I blew it! Thea Bella and Kristiana stayed with us for five weeks in Florida this summer but I kept only the barest record of their wonderful visit on my external memory, otherwise known as this blog. Now there is not, for the cold winter nights ahead, a reliable path back to those sweet memories, only flitting recollections of the quirky details, things five-year-old Thea said and did. So, for my future self, here are three memories. May they lead to more.

Every night, Thea would invite me to come listen to the bedtime story, Harry Potter. At that point, they were nearing the end of book two. I would bring my pillow and lay on the end of the bed and Kristiana read to us. She is a fabulous reader. Very dramatic with perfect, distinct voices for each character. It was very entertaining. Thea's memory is much better than mine. She knew the plot and all the characters by name and the reading seemed to energize her. With the irrepressible curiosity of a five-year-old, she asked a lot of questions, all the while doing things like standing on her head and bouncing on the bed. That took some getting used to as, being grandma and all, I became instantly drowsy and was happy to drift in and out under the spell of the words. It was a bedtime story after all. In any case, this endearing nightly ritual became, for me, one of the defining moments of the summer.

Another defining event was how Thea, being so enamored by the sometimes even 90° water of the Gulf, refused to come out even long enough to eat lunch. She'd run ashore, grab her sandwich, give grandpa his, then they'd have to run back into the water. She would only eat standing in the waves. By the end of the summer she was snorkeling, beginning to anyway, and fearless in the surf. 

Mesdames K. and T.
An electric evening at the jetty

Then there were the amazing, wild tales she and grandpa made up about everything. I wish I'd recorded some of them. For example, they discussed reflections in mirrors. The little Florida house has many. She wondered if the Theas in the mirrors were real. That story almost got out of hand. They pondered which was the real Thea. Was Mirror Thea the real Thea? Was she her reflection? I almost pulled the plug on that one because, for the one moment Thea considered that, her eyes took on the appearance of dark, faraway vortices. Luckily, the next moment she rejected the idea and declared that, without a doubt, she was the real Thea and the Mirror Theas, each and every one of them, were their own separate persons. Naturally on the last day, when she and Mom were preparing to leave for the airport, she went around saying good-bye to them all and wishing them well.

As for our time in LA with M. Lee's mom, way back in July, at some point I will also do a post on it. M. Lee even requested that I do. A first! For the record, I started one before Thea and Kristiana arrived, also back in July, but it still languishes in draft. When Mesdames Thea and Kristiana came, blam-o! I did manage my morning five minute write, before Thea got up, but that's about it. My hat is off to all parents with fledglings in the nest. I think we forget, once our kids are launched, how totally engaging they are. There's never a second. It would be 9 or 10 PM before I could finally sit down to write about the day, then suddenly I'd wake up disoriented, exhausted, laptop gone dormant, cicada singing away in the mangrove dark and I could only toddle off to bed, the day gone and unwrit. So for now, minimal as it is, this will have to do.

Shane, Lee and Kathy at the Getty - LA

Fiona's story

I found a "note to self" on my desktop tonight. It had one word, Fiona, and a link to the video below. Thank you, past self. Watching it pulled me back from the abyss I fell into today fiddling with the endless details for this upcoming trip. So I'm embedding it here for my future self, because the time will come again, and for anyone else happening by who might like, or need, a sweet story about now.



PS. If you happen to know who did the song, please let me know. It's not only perfect for the video, it's just good.

Turn-around

Flying by

Home, sweet turn-around. We've just got back from Portland, Oregon. It was the last leg of a four month journey and the Big Event, the birth of Baby Chance, Supermoon Boy. Now we're back in Nevada. It's home but feels more like a traffic circle. Nevertheless, we have long-time friends here, our "stuff" is here, the Bird Park is here. Things are where and the way they are supposed to be. Maggie, aka the 7 o'clock magpie, showed up for peanuts the first morning we were back and, at the moment, sparrows fill the bushes and trees and several are enjoying a raucous dust bath party on the ground.

Squirrel underpants

And then there's my office. In case you've ever wondered where the center of the Universe is, cluttered though it be, it's my office. And, for the moment, I am there ... here. But not for long. We are leaving again at the beginning of October and won't be back until mid-January. Of course I'll still be here, the Language Barrier that is. It's home everywhere. And home is where the heart is..... which is family.

Cousins Thea, Leo and Frank

Baby Chance and Dad

Our ultimate destination is Thailand for three months. I guess it's fair to say we're in a rut. We were also there last year for three months. Yes. There is a whole big world out there, and time is running out, but we really like Thailand. But before Thailand, we're going to New York with Lee's mom for a brief visit and after that we'll all go to LA for a few days. Then she returns home and we return to Thailand. At this point, we're there more than anywhere else.

My pot

Life is strange. I never thought I'd be traveling like this. Several years ago, starting over and dirt poor, I bought a small copper-bottomed sauce pan at a secondhand store. I was delighted. It was a good omen. Revere Ware. My mother always said it was the best. I was still with my then-husband but, in fact, was more like a single mom raising three kids. A lot of meals came out of that pot, all though their childhood. And, being the absent-minded type, I burned a lot of food in it. However, I pride myself on always restoring it to some semblance of it's original secondhand glory. Now, 30 years later, a little worn though it be, all things being equal, it's still got a ways to go. I cooked my oatmeal in it this morning. 

Supermoon Boy

We were expecting him to be a couple of weeks late, like his brothers, but you know what they say about a rising tide floating all boats.

Leo, Frank and cousin Thea greeting him.

Plus, the night he was born, Frankie put his hand on his mom's belly and said "Baby out" and a few hours later, riding the waves stirred by the gigantic Harvest Super-moon, Baby Chance did just that.

Mom, Baby Chance and now big brother Frank

Frank was adamant about wearing his orange tshirt to the hospital the next morning to greet him.

He's beautiful.

A day in September

I just want to remember this, this sunny September Saturday afternoon. The only thing on the calendar is "New Baby". In the meantime silver puff artichoke seeds detach and float away into the sky and the children sail off into a future I shall not see.

posted from Bloggeroid

On the road again

It's smoky in Susanville. There's a forest fire somewhere nearby but, so far, no indication of road closures.

Burning Man, Black Rock Desert, Nevada
~ photo source: Time.com

We've seen lots of Burners on the road today, even though Burning Man ended three days ago. We figure they must be members of the enormous volunteer crew that are the heart of the event. Like everyone returning from Black Rock, they are easy to spot. They look like ghosts. They, their vehicles and ragtag bikes (including the tires), are chalky white with playa dust. The Prius ahead of us says it all but not a glitzy 'magic" Burner art car way . The license plate simply says 1TRIBE.

Burner car on the road

posted from Bloggeroid

OK. We're about to head into the mountains and off the grid. I'll edit the typos later. See you on the other side.

Jigsaw

I stare at the clouds and patches of blue sky above the corridor of pines. Hello and good-bye worlds on my way somewhere else, the place that does not exist.

I review my collection of jigsaw days, looking for today. Monday? No. The day after Wednesday following Tuesday dinner with friends. The guy on the radio says it's the 28th.

And now it's night. Eight hundred miles in 12 hours. The cicada are wonderful here. I could stay with them forever but not in this motel. Not in Jackson. Not in Mississippi.

Eating through America

We leave in the morning. The last day is always crazy and I'm pretty sure this one will be no exception, especially as at the moment, I'm writing a blog post instead of packing though, for the record, I'm also packing. Much to do. We really moved in this year, but leave we will, because we must and it will be early tomorrow morning. As usual, M. Lee has tossed down the gauntlet, 6 AM. I will be ready. It's not much of a competition though. He is, by nature, organized and linear. I am, by nature, disorganized and lateral. But, I'm not really "disorganized". My organizing principal is inclusive and improvisational and his is boom, boom, boom DONE.

But, however we pack, tomorrow will be a long grind, about 12 hours on the road. M. Lee plans these trans-America trips with dinner in mind. Being vegetarian, it is very challenging. For us, most of America is a culinary wasteland but he a master at ferreting out a nightly oasis.

Tomorrow night we'll stop in Jackson, Mississippi (I still love spelling that word.... M-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-P-P-I) and eat at Cool Al's. I look forward to it. It's a burger joint but Al lives up to his legendary cool. There are some great veggie, even vegan, burgers on the menu and I loves me his sweet sweet potato fries, plus the atmosphere is, well it's atmospheric, and I love that too. Friday night is the trip's foodie highlight. Strange as it is, we're making a special detour to Dallas, Texas because one of our all-time favorite veggie restaurants is there, Kalachandji's, and we are willing to drive 12 hours tomorrow just to include it in our itinerary. Otherwise, like they say, "If I owned Texas and Hell, I'd rent out Texas and live in Hell", except I'd visit Hell to eat at Kalachandji's, which we will do on Friday night.

After that the food thing gets a bit sketchy. Saturday night in Albuquerque, New Mexico, if we find nothing better, we'll grab some banh mi sandwiches at the Vietnamese bakery, Banh Mi Coda, a regular stop. And Sunday night, Vegas, baby! where, if the slots don't get you, the food will. Heart attack city. But there are a options. We'll probably go to our fallback vegan Chinese place, don't remember the name at the moment. Then home on Sunday. Unpack and repack on Monday and Tuesday we'll head to Portland to meet the new baby about to be born.