Day trip to the past

The way we travel, it's normal for us to walk miles in a day and get back to our apartment late. By that point, I don't have the time, energy or inclination to do a proper post, hence I usually end up writing little or nothing about the wonders we see.

Road to Ostia Antica

Our recent visit to Ostia Antica, a huge archeological site about 30 kilometers from Rome, was no exception. It was a 12 hour extravaganza of wonders.

Temple figure at the oldest crossroads
in Ostia Antica

Archaeological sites and museums are our downfall. We linger and this is where it gets complicated because, when I linger, there is suddenly so much to see... and so much to learn that I didn't know I want to know.

Disturbing
Mithraeum of the Baths of Mithras
Ostia Antica

For example, archaeologists date the beginnings of Ostia Antica in the 4th century BC and mark its high point in the 2nd and 3rd centuries AD. At that time it had around 100,000 inhabitants.

Fresco remains

That makes the Ostia Antica of today a 2000 year-old Roman ghost town. How can we rush though a place like that? And, undoubtedly, we're not the only ones who have enjoyed lingering there.

Tavern at the crossroads
complete with shady characters.

Certainly residents, seafarers, traders and perhaps even a few pirates have lingered and enjoyed convivial conversation in the tavern at the old crossroads across the street from that headless naked guy. And probably many of those people went over to the communal latrine later for another good long chat.

Swami surveying Ostia Antica's 24 seat communal latrine.

But all things pass and Ostia Antica was finally abandoned in the 9th century though that didn't stop pirates from repeatedly sacking the place during its decline. Even the sea and Tiber river eventually moved away leaving the town landlocked. Then, six hundred years later, Cardinal Giulliano della Rovere, the man who later became Pope Julius II, showed up on the scene.

Typical floor in Ostia Antica

He was known as the fearsome warrior Pope. Those who crossed him payed the price, sometimes with their life. He is also the Pope who commissioned Michelangelo to paint the Sistine Chapel. But as a Cardinal in 1483, della Rovere began a major renovation of a centuries old Papal castle located just outside Ostia Antica and took many tons of marble from the city for his project. I guess that counts as recycling.

Marble arch to the Castle of Julius II at the end of day.

A little went for decoration but most of the marble was crushed, along with the history it represented, plus lime to make mortar to hold the castle's giant stones in place. About a hundred years later, after an extraordinary flood, the Papacy abandoned the place. It was a prison for awhile, sat empty for a couple of centuries and was finally restored in the 19h century to exhibit the first findings from the excavations at Ostia Antica. We noticed it as we were heading back to the train after our very long day but, naturally, went over to have a look.

Cat in his garden by the castle

I didn't start out with the intention of going into all that. This is the problem with visiting a place like Rome and its suburbs, if there even is another place like Rome and its suburbs. Nearly every little thing represents at least a thousand years of history. Fascinating, yes, but a very sticky web to quickly navigate.

European crow on an ancient marble column

Even Ostia Antica, stripped to the bone a thousand years ago, and possibly the most poorly curated major archeological site on the face of the earth, was fascinating. We dragged away.

First impressions

Rome

Side chapel in a Roman basilica

Rome is a strange place. For all its wealth, pomp, power and fabulous history, my first impression is that it's a mono culture living off its past. Of course, we've only been here a week and I'm speaking from the impressions I've gathered as we explore the street level of things so I'm probably totally off. In any case, it's an amazing place, an overwhelming place and I'm delighted and grateful to see it.

Facing the past
Museo Nazionale Romano

Make haste slowly

Florence, Italy

Florence, Italy

Lee describes the historic center of Florence, birthplace of the Renaissance, as a world suspended in amber. It's a perfect description. In 14th century Florence, the merger of Church and secular wealth, power, ruthlessness and creative energy became a flash point transforming western civilization. The Florence of today is the standing record of that fusion suspended in time for all to see.

Reliquary belonging to House of Medici
Florence, Italy

We stayed in Florence for two weeks, exploring treasures from both the Renaissance and Medieval periods. The city is full of world famous paintings, sculpture and architecture by men such as Brunelleschi, the oldest of the the founding fathers of the Renaissance, Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael, Donatello, Titian, Michelangelo, Botticelli and others. Lisa del Giocondo, the woman Michelangelo painted as the Mona Lisa, lived and is buried in Florence.

Galileo
was first denounced from this pulpit, an event which
culminated in him being tried for heresy during the Inquisition.
Florence

Galileo and Michelangelo are also buried there. Dante, however, is not buried there. In 1302 he found himself on the wrong side of a political conflict involving the Pope and in 1315, refusing to pay the fine, was condemned to permanent exile from his beloved Florence or be burned at the stake. In 2008 the city council of Florence passed a motion rescinding his death sentence but thus far the city of Ravenna refuses to give back his bones.

Dante and eagle outside the Duomo
Florence

Otherwise, Florence claims many honors. According to wikitravel, Florentines reinvented money, the gold florin which became the engine that drove Europe out of the "Dark Ages". Florentine bankers also financed the first route around Africa to India and the Far East. The Americas were named after a Florentine, Amerigo Vespucci. Florentines also pioneered the use of the vernacular, thus ending the use of Latin as the common language. They invented opera and Ferdinando de' Medici made possible the invention of the piano through his patronage of Bartolomeo Cristofori, a harpsichord builder from Padua.

When Michelangelo was an apprentice a rival
punched him in the nose "mashing it like a biscuit".
It remained that way the rest of his life.
Bargello Museum - Florence Italy

As for me, the unfinished sculptures Michelangelo were especially powerful, his abandoned figures half-released from the stone. Initially I assumed the unfinished pieces, the rough work, were done by assistants but, when I mentioned this to Lee, he said Michelangelo did most of the work himself, frequently working through the night and, when he did rest, often slept in his boots and clothes. That impressed me and so I read up on him. His biographer Paolo Giovio wrote that "Michelangelo's nature was so rough and uncouth that his domestic habits were incredibly squalid, and deprived posterity of any pupils who might have followed him." Various biographers describe him as solitary and melancholy although he did love one man, Tommaso dei Cavalieri

— Festina lente —
(make haste slowly)
Motto adopted by the House of Medici.
Florence morning

Italy at last

Florence, Italy

We've been skirting Italy for the last year and saw Roman's ruins and its influence everywhere, Turkey, Portugal, Spain, Croatia, England, the Netherlands, Germany, the Czech Republic, I mean Czechia. Just yesterday the Czech Republic officially announced their country's new name, Czechia. And when people say Roman, they are referring to Italy in the overall, aren't they? Italian art, sculpture, architecture. At least as influence. So finally we are in Italy. In spite of the fact that I had great expectations about this place, in spite of the fact that we've been working up it it for the last year, still it is fabulous.

Door from, or it is to, the past?

Around the Mediterranean giant palaces and cathedrals remain that were built when Rome was the center of the Western world, isolated grandeur, World Heritage sites, but here in Italy that style was a way of life. But I've said enough. I'm not a historian and I don't have the time to research every word I write so ... enough. Florence is amazing in spite of the fact that internet in our neighborhood, sucks.

Even Project Fi, Google's international phone network, is weak where we're staying. It worked even in Czechia's tiny Český Krumlov, but not here. The Renaissance began in Florence but, at least at this point, it seems to be a bit of a technological backwater.

And, while I'm on a grind,I might as well add that it's been hard to find oatmeal at a decent price. That, of course, drove M. Lee (the oatmeal fanatic) to look up the history of oatmeal in Italy. Seems you could easily get it 30,000 years ago. The first evidence of humans eating oatmeal anywhere was discovered in a cave in Italy. I hope I'm wrong but, at least so far, Italy seems like an oatmeal backwater as well.

Italy also sucks when it comes to getting a big giant American cup of coffee. Europe in general doesn't do coffee like we do coffee so no surprise that even in this otherwise very cool airbnb the "big" cups hold about two sips. I say big but only compared to the other regular size cups, the thimble size espresso cups. But these are trifles. Florence is fabulous.

My morning cup of coffee

Time past, time present, time future

Germany

The not blue Danube

If you saw 2001: A Space Odyssey, Strauss's Blue Danube Waltz is almost sure to conjure up scenes from the film but, ever since I was a kid, mention of the Blue Danube Waltz always brought to my mind the image of a gloriously blue river, blue as the bluest ever summer blue sky. So, when we got to Regensburg yesterday, a town situated on the banks of the River Danube, the first thing I wanted to do was visit the blue Danube. Sadly, I must report that, at least on that cloudy day, the river was not blue. It was gray.

Gone

Also, the town's famous medieval stone bridge was covered for repairs and even the one medieval carving on the bridge that M. Lee wanted to see had been removed for cleaning. But I'm not saying Regensburg is a bust. It's an intriguing town that's been around since the Stone Age.



In 179, Regensburg marked the northern most reach of the Roman empire though when they abandoned the city they removed it from their maps. No matter. Regensburg continued to thrive and remains a vital center to this day. For example, what is perhaps the oldest restaurant in the world is located in Regensburg. The place has been continuously open to the public for the last 500 years. And it stands on the site of a building from the 12th century that was also a restaurant, the "Garkueche auf dem Kranchen", or 'cookshop near the crane'.

Regensburg today

In 2006, Regensburg was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site and, trust me, the town has an excellent historical museum that makes it clear why it qualifies. This morning we spent five hours there seeing some of the archeological treasures from Regensburg’s last 7000 years before again exploring the city of today.

Aunt Jane

At some point, ready or not, one may be called on to send off the dead. Aunt Jane was the last of her generation so this time the task fell to us.

Ashes to ashes

She died in December. My cousins hosted a nice, low-key party celebrating her life on the Spring Equinox. My daughter and I went to Sonoma for the weekend, stayed with them at her house and helped out.

Dust to dust

The following morning, Monday, it rained lightly as cousins Cathleen and Margaret, my daughter and I took her to the cemetery. Chairs, an awning and the niche beside Uncle Phil were waiting, as was the fellow who would close their door after we left. We didn't sit. Cathleen and Margret put her ashes next to their Dad, Cathleen read a piece she wrote for the occasion and that was it. Aunt Jane would have liked that.

"We all go somewhere...into the sea, into the sky,
into another story, or into a heaven of our understanding." ~ Cathleen V.

One-legged Magpie

The one-legged magpie doesn't come here anymore. There is no need to assume the worst. She was, after all, full grown, strong, plump even, but I miss her. The Bird Park was a good place for her.

Worldview

Sweetness personified

We're leaving on Monday for a couple of months and, as usual, first we'll go to Portland to spend a little time with family. To their credit, the parents keep us supplied with photos but things there change fast.

The Gang

For example, Chance is taking full advantage of having two older brothers to learn from. Looks like he might be ready for a little one on one time.

Batter up!

Chance
expanding his worldview.

Then there's Thea. I hear she's become a graphic novel worm.  I suspect she might be up for an afternoon at Powell's Books, lunch included, gma's treat.

Graphic novel worm

And I hear Leo wants to be an artist so there's a easy trip to the art museum, lunch included. I'm not sure what special thing Frank might want to do. Last time he and I really enjoyed our special walk and lunch together. Maybe that's still good. We'll see. And, of course, there's an afternoon with gpa and gma at OMSI and/or the Portland Children's Museum. I'm pretty sure this time Chance will want in on that and the hikes.

Then, at the beginning of April we leave for Europe, first stop Germany.


Photos courtesy of Kristiana and A.B.

John Oliver brillant MURDERSLAY of Donald Trump de Drumpf

John Oliver has a refreshing, hilarious reality check for those of us who are sick, I mean really fucking sick of Trump's bullshit.

Trump Unbound

"Trump found the flaw in the American Death Star. It doesn't know how to turn the cameras off, even when it's filming its own demise." — Matt Taibbi


Matt Taibbi's article Trump Unbound in this month's Rolling Stone is longish but you won't want it to end. It's very entertaining. And insightful. Really. It's a must read. Go! Now! Read it — though surely, it's already too late.

How America Made Donald Trump Unstoppable.

In her own words

From the time Chrissy was a young woman she attended the Center for Adaptive Learning in Concord, CA. It changed her life. She was high functioning on the autistic spectrum and really bloomed in the company of others and the support she found there.

Included below is a unedited paper Chrissy once wrote at The WooWoo Club, one of C.A.L.'s social/study groups she very much enjoyed. Her enthusiasm and achievements are on a level I can only aspire to. She really lived it in full.

Life Achievements by Chrissy

I am more independent. My goal is to be less co-dependent. Don't worry about what other people think. I have learned that in relationships everyone needs their space. I realize you don't have to be a victim, work through it and keep going on, move forward.

I have acceptance of my highest capacity and what I can handle with my disability. I see my disability as a positive.

I feel good about the direction I'm going in my life and seeing how far I've come. I'm able to take care of my cat I'm exercising at Curves you feel fabulous after a workout. It's taught me to live a healthier lifestyle.

The woo-woo group helps me relate to my life's situations, and learn about natural elements. I keep a daily gratude journal. Live in the present.

I am an independent woman and treasure my adult separate life and living off-site. We all have to stand on our own in our life.

Nexus farewell

We're in Concord for the weekend to participate in a memorial for Chrissy, M. Lee's sister. She passed away just before Christmas after an abrupt decline beginning in 2010. We didn't know what was happening at first but eventually it became clear that she was suffering from early onset dementia.

Today began with a more or less traditional religious service, followed by a luncheon for her friends and tonight a dinner with family and a few close friends. Chrissy's dear friend Patrick, too nervous to read his tender memorial during the church service, read it to us after dinner, on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. His words were sweet perfect closure and so it is done. Probably we will not see most of these people again. Chrissy drew us together and now we leave with our separate memories.

Valentine poems for married people

The New Yorker posted these Valentine poems the other day. They're hilarious and real. You may even find reflections of your own life within these lines, unless you're the type who moves on when the sugary first burst of love wears off.

Valentine's Day Poems for Married People
Source: The New Yorker

Winter.
It’s been dark for, like, five hours,
And yet the children are still awake,
And I am only a little drunk.
What you call yelling I call making a point.

* * *

Our love is like the padlocks on the Pont des Arts, in Paris—
Thousands of locks, symbols of unbreakable love.
Isn’t that beautiful?
Apparently, though, all those locks are too heavy for the bridge.
Did you hear this?
I read it somewhere.
The locks are weighing the bridge down.
So you know what they’re going to do?
They’re taking them off with bolt cutters and throwing them out.
Isn’t that beautiful, too?
So now the people aren’t locked together anymore.
They’re free to maybe see other people.
I thought that was interesting.

* * *

When we have children,
They will watch no television.
No screens.
We will be different from those other parents,
And we will take pride in our being better.
Fast-forward seven years,
And it’s Sunday morning,
6 A.M.
Do you know who our friend is?
SpongeBob SquarePants, that’s who.
And, yes, you can have Mentos for breakfast.

* * *

I was almost feeling fondness for you
As you gave me a shoulder massage at the sink—
What a small, lovely surprise.
And then you grabbed my boobs and made a “wha-wha” noise.
In an instant, I felt disgust and sadness and regret.

* * *

The kids are finally down
And you are looking at me in that way,
But not really looking at me.
Tease.
Or are you just spacing out?
Yup, you’re spacing out.
You have unzipped your skirt,
And your baggy underpants ride way, way up on your hips.
How old are those, anyway?
You pull on some sweatpants and a T-shirt and a sweater and a fleece and I am not able to make out any contour of your body at all.
I think you are sending me a signal in the way that married couples send each other signals.
And, just so we’re clear, you’re signalling, “I’m going to call my sister and order sushi. You should do something, too.”

* * *

Of course the wheels on the bus go round and round.
And the wipers go swish, swish, swish.
But here’s something:
The daddy on the bus says, “This is not what I signed up for.”
And maybe the driver on the bus doesn’t go beep, beep, beep.
Maybe he just hits the guy in the crosswalk because he feels like it.
Sing that verse, why don’t you?

* * *

I’m dreaming.
But it’s so real.
A man—is it you?
Nope.
It’s Rob, Casey’s husband,
The one with the Italian accent.
We’re on the beach and he’s chasing me and I’m laughing.
He’s so tanned and fit.
And then . . .
A terrible smell,
Like death.
I’m blinking and awake and your nasty-ass breath is hot on my face.
You son of a bitch.
You God-damned son of a bitch.
Rob, come back.

* * *

We are in the bedroom in our underpants.
Let’s turn the lights down.
No, further.
“Off,” I guess, is the technical term.
Maybe try a towel under the door, where that sliver of light is coming in?
What if we just cuddle, and by cuddle I mean not actually touching—
Each of us at the far edge of our own side of the bed—
Then close our eyes for the next seven hours or so?
I like you.

* * *

I have heard that some couples watch the whole movie in a single sitting.
Food for thought.

* * *

In France, cinq à sept was once sacrosanct,
A euphemism for rendezvous,
For the thing that men and women do.
But we are not in France.
We are here, in Montclair.
And it is well past seven.
And I promised to be home at six.
And, yes, that’s booze on my breath.
The guys and I had one . . . fine, three drinks after work.
I have forgotten the milk.
And the bread and the pasta and the pull-ups.
And the allergy medicine at CVS.
Why are you dressed up?
Wait. Today is Valentine’s Day?

* * *

This Land is MY Land, quoeth the Cliven

Many thanks to William Valenti for writing this song and making the video. Plus, as I live in the Great State of Nevada, seems only fitting to repost it here.




And, to celebrate the arrest of Cliven Bundy last night at Portland's PDX, here's a link to a snippet from the "rebel radio broadcast of the remaining last four psycho idiots "holed up" at the Malheur Refuge. As these bone heads love "holing up" so much, they are going to LOVE jail.

-----------------

Since this morning these last four "freedom" fighters at Malheur have surrendered. Now begins the long clean-up.

Cool Photoshop hack

Note to self:

Next time you want to remove someone or thing from a photo try this:

Morning report and Salvador Dali's dream

It's snowing this morning and Shelby the hawk stopped by for breakfast. As I've said before, hunting in the Bird Park is not okay. I'll have to post a sign. Of course hawks have to eat and feed their young but this place is a tiny little refuge not a free-for-all. There are enormous open spaces right nearby, compete with wild horses and bears. He can hunt there like everybody else.

Usually just opening the door is enough to empty the Bird Park. Not Shelby. He didn't even bother to look my way. I got almost all the way up to him, and was beginning to fantasize tapping him on the shoulder and telling him to go, before he finally got the hint.

At the moment Shelby is the only hunter who hunts here but, if I let him stay, soon enough the fence would be lined with raptors. It's calving season. The valley is filled with predators and soon all that would be left of my little friends would piles of drifting feathers.

So... now a peak at some of the cool exhibits going on at the Dali Museum in St. Petersburg Florida.


Source: Huffington Post and The Dali Museum on YouTube

Artist as Visionary

Jean Dubuffet working in his studio in France.*

I found a very entertaining compilation of photos at Pinterest titled Artist as Visionary. The board is part of a greater collection of art, music and literature related photos all collected by an artist named Kim Zoph. Well worth a coffee break.

*Photo saved from ackermansfineart.com via Artist as Visionary (Pinterest)

Squirrel Appreciation day 2016

 photo credit: djpsychochild

It's never the wrong time to appreciate squirrels but today, Jan 21, is their official day. However, if you missed today, get some peanuts and do it tomorrow or the next day or the next — whenever you can. These plucky little guys always appreciate being appreciated.

Booklice and giants

I read in the Guardian this morning that entomologists studying “clean and normal” homes in Raleigh, North Carolina found more than 100 species living there and this was without opening drawers or ripping carpets up. Their list included spiders (that do and don't make webs), lice, centipedes, flies, beetles, ants, telephone pole beetles, miniature crickets and booklice.

Booklice. I had to look that one up. The image of books infested with their own special variety of lice is disturbing. And yes — according to the Wikipedia article — books do have lice. But books, or more specifically the paste holding books together, is a newly acquired taste for booklice. These guys have been around for 295–248 million years. But if you're a reader, don't worry. The article is quite clear that booklice don't eat humans, even if your book is an ebook.

Researchers also observed creatures never before seen in the wild including the world's smallest wasp. Of course, findings would vary probably in other locations. Maybe here in Nevada we have microscopic desert lizards on our walls.

The idea of our homes being teeming microcosms doesn't bother or surprise me. After all, there's more than the eye can see and we humans used to live in caves and, before that, trees so no big deal. Now we live in a microscopic jungle. That means we get to be the giants.

Allen Rickman, farewell.

WTF?! Now Allen Rickman dies? I'm not prepared for all this. David Bowie now him? Damn. Meanwhile, out in the Bird Park, the Flicker eagerly pummeled one apple to a husk and is now working on another. Her day is off to a good start anyway.

So, Allen Rickman. I loved that guy. They say his irrepressible glimmer redefined Hollywood's idea of villainy. Whatever the role, he was a great actor and, as I read, a wonderfully intelligent, kind man. This clip even brought a tear to my eye. What more can I say?

As Joshua Madoc wrote, "By Grabthar's Hammer, Sir, by the suns of Warvan... you shall be dearly missed."

Breakfast at 07:54

Well we're home and, as per, Maggie the 7 o'clock Magpie just dropped in for breakfast. First day, as usual. That's my girl. So far it's just her. She took one peanut and flew off but she must have gone off to tell the rest of the tidings because they all just arrived plus a few grackles, the Dove couple and a beautiful Northern Flicker with red underwings. Home again.

And, now that we're home, I'm hoping to get some writing done. It seems impossible when we're in Portland. Kids consume the time. I don't even have have the energy to do a blog post when we're there, yet I goad the Deconstructionist for letting her blog go dormant. It's been 10 months since her last post. However, I hear mumbling coming from her direction. I suspect a new entry is in the works.

Morning update 09:16

"The world always seems brighter when you've just made something that wasn't there before."
- Neil Gaiman

This morning, being gray as yesterday, calls for another log on the fire and a hot cup of coffee to get things kicked off or, if you have neither, perhaps the Neil Gaiman quote would do. It got me going. Also along with my lukewarm morning cup of coffee, I read a good article at The Atlantic by Colleen Gillard titled "Why the British Tell Better Children’s Stories". It's worth reading if you have young kids or if you're any kind of storyteller.

So, that's it for the moment. I've been away from my post here in the borderlands, tending grandchildren for awhile. It was wonderful but now we're back in the swirl, moving south and, by next week, we'll be back in Nevada though M. Lee is already planning a next adventure.

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Note: There is a good discussion of Gillard's article on Metafilter. On the whole, seems the Mefites are quite critical of it. Lots of good points. 

The longest night

Happy New Year!

Last night we rode Santa's holiday train

The winter solstice this year occurs on Tuesday, December 22, 2015 at 04:49 UTC. At the moment, I'm in Portland Oregon so that means the solstice happens here today, the 21st, at 8:49 PM. For me, the winter solstice marks the end of the old year and the beginning of the new so .... wishing all a good new year.

Baby Chance wasn't so sure about Santa
but he liked the candy cane, his first.

The train wasn't going very fast. Cyclists were passing us on the bike path that follows the tracks but it was enough to make for a thrilling ride and shaky cam photos.

Off into the longest night

Somebody cares

Love Song to the Earth

Shelby morning update

Nobody likes Shelby. Nobody, that is, except M. Lee. M. Lee is Shelby's one and only advocate here at the Bird Park. This morning the magpies refused to come down from the trees for breakfast and that can only mean that either Shelby is lurking somewhere nearby or he recently killed somebody and everyone is still spooked.

Of course Shelby has a right to eat. That's M's argument, circle of life, it's only fair, a hawk's gotta eat. Mine is that the Bird Park is not a natural environment. Peanuts, tiny puppy kibble and piles of seed do not naturally appear every morning in the Nevada desert. To Shelby the Bird Park is a fast food joint. Next Bubba will appear, then Hank and Tootsie Pie, Mable and Jack and in about a week they will have eaten everyone. So I run Shelby off.

Local news at 11:05, or if you prefer, 23:05

Barcelona street

Moving on. Not that I have anything particular to say this evening. I'm just tired of looking at the last post. What did I do today? Mostly organized stuff, cleaned things. Printed out some notes I took this summer that I many eventually work into a poem. And I repaired a painting I did about 25 years ago. At some point it had picked up cardboard fuzz or something. Whatever it was I sponged it off with q-tips.

And I had a nice, long phone conversation with my daughter-in-law this afternoon. Seems Baby Chance is fully committed to walking now and, in fact, insisted on it during their mile+ forest hike today. By the time we see him in December I expect he'll be unstoppable. That'll be fun.

Happy Tofurky Day

I posted this image on Imgur. If anything it will probably cause a shitstorm. Go figure. Anyway, Happy Gratitude day to everyone.

View post on imgur.com

Local news at 2:11

It's snowing. That explains why so many birds dropped by for breakfast this morning. Even Plonk's pigeon brigade stopped in, including one very lovely, all white bird. Nobody is there now as I write this but I'm sure the quail are cozy under the very bushy twin lilacs. Anyway, it's not very cold but it is sticking and kind of pretty.

Bird Park November update

The little birds showed up today. Like I said, it takes them about a week to catch on that I'm back. Finches, they're not the brightest birds in the world. Now everyone's here, Maggie and her tiding, the quail, the doves, the finches and sparrows and Penny Robin. News travels fast. I put out apples a couple of days ago and Penny Robin came this morning. Robins love apples.

But wait a minute. The pigeons haven't come by yet. They're part of the gang. And Minerva, Charlie and the rest of the murder have yet to put in an appearance. I would love to see Charlie again. Before we started our trip last spring, he and I were beginning to bond. Last spring he established a secret meeting place so that he could get his very own peanuts and eat them in peace. Maybe this winter, once we finally settle in for awhile, we can pick up where we left off.

Holiday turn around

We're back in Nevada now. We got back to the states a month ago but went right to Oregon to visit family. Big changes. Baby Chance is starting to walk. Thea is now in first grade. Leo is in pre-K and Frank started pre-school. Of course it was wonderful seeing everyone but the gkids absolutely enchant me. We'll return in a few weeks for a holiday visit. Among other things we'll get to see Thea be a princess soldier in "The Children's Nutcracker", her first ballet, and afterwards we'll take all the kids on the Portland Holiday Express.

In all, we were gone seven months but I was certain that Maggie Magpie would show up at the Bird Park the next morning. I put the seeds, peanuts and tiny puppy kibble out and indeed she was. The surprising thing was that she was not alone. Lots of magpies came plus some blackbirds and this morning the quail were out there as well. The little birds haven't showed up yet. Generally it takes them about a week to catch on. When they do, the Bird Park will be in full swing. It's good to be back but M. Lee is already planning the next adventure.

Gothic morning though a dirty window

This was this morning.

It's about midnight now and we're headed for the airport and back to the US. Travel time will be, in all, about 48 hours.

Bosnia's Old Bridge

View of the bridge (Stari Most, 1558) .... taken from the top of the minaret (1617) at the Koski Mehmed Paša Mosque (1552).

View from the bridge .... the mosque and minaret are just left of center.

Sadly, after two days of shelling, the original bridge was deliberately destroyed by Croat forces in 1993 during the civil war. The commanding officer who ordered its destruction was tried as a war criminal and sentenced to 25 years in prison. Thanks to an international coalition, an exact reconstruction of the bridge began in 2001 and completed in June of 2004. It is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

#extremecivilisation

Life or art? Who imitates who?
Art installation at Tate Modern
August 20, 2015

George Monbiot, author and blogger at the UK Guardian, recently launched the hashtag #extremecivilisation and invited suggestions. Here, for your reading pleasure, is an excerpt from his blog at the Guardian listing some of the modern breakthroughs by today's geniuses which are sure to make our lives better and easier on planet Earth.

There may be flowing water on Mars. But is there intelligent life on Earth?
~George Monbiot

A couple of weeks ago I launched the hashtag #extremecivilisation, and invited suggestions. They have flooded in. Here are just a few of the products my correspondents have found. All of them, as far as I can tell, are real.

An egg tray for your fridge that syncs with your phone to let you know how many eggs are left. A gadget for scrambling them – inside the shell. Wigs for babies, to allow “baby girls with little or no hair at all the opportunity to have a beautifully realistic hair style”.The iPotty, which permits toddlers to keep playing on their iPads while toilet training. A £2,000 spider-proof shed. A snow sauna, on sale in the United Arab Emirates, in which you can create a winter wonderland with the flick of a switch. A refrigerated watermelon case on wheels: indispensable for picnics – or perhaps not, as it weighs more than the melon. Anal bleaching cream, for… to be honest, I don’t want to know. An “automatic watch rotator” that saves you the bother of winding your luxury wrist-candy. A smartphone for dogs, with which they can take pictures of themselves. Pre-peeled bananas, in polystyrene trays covered in clingfilm; Just peel back the packaging.

#extremecivilisation

Cool hermitage

Fabulous 16th century hermitage built into the cliff face in Marjan Park - Split, Croatia

Supermoon over the Seven Seas

Adriatic sea from Split's bell tower

We're going to miss tonight's supermoon eclipse. It happens here in Croatia at the very inconvenient time of 3:47 AM tomorrow morning and I just can't seem to talk myself into getting up at three to climb the hill in the middle of the park to see it. I'm sure I'll kick myself when I see all the photographs in the morning. But we are hoping to see the supermoon rise over the Adriatic Sea this evening. The Riva promenade in front of Diocletian's palace is right on the water. That should be a good place to watch moon rise if it's not cloudy.

As for the palace itself, Diocletian built it some 1,700 years ago. It was his retirement home after stepping down as Emperor of Rome. Supposedly, he just wanted to kick back and garden but, being the iron-fisted bigoted bastard he was, retirement didn't stop him from having people put to death because he didn't like their religion. I think a lot of people must have been relieved when, after five years of "retirement", he died but Romans did built to last. Sections of his palace stand to this day and are the main attraction for the flood of tourists who visit here. We've spent the last couple of weeks exploring it and the rest of the jumbled maze of streets, stairs and buildings built into, on, over, under, against and often with the enormous stone blocks that were once the palace. The ancient city of Split is a small but amazing place.

So.... on with the night.




via i.space

Late at night....

Late at night and almost beyond the edge of human hearing, giraffes hum....



Via New Scientist

Happy Autumn Equinox 2015

Event Time in UTC, Time Zone

8:22 AM

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

That's 10:22 AM here in Croatia.

Once again, they are saying that tomorrow it's supposed to rain. In any case, today is a lovely day for the equinox. I hope you are enjoying it as well.

Worlds within worlds

Split, Croatia

Our first day here we walked from our apartment to the water and thought, small town. Got it! On our second day here we entered the old city, a maze of Roman, medieval and 19th century overlays. Okay, it's not huge but, if you take a lot of photos, stop to read all the plaques and get an ice cream cone... before you know it, you're deeply into the layers and layers of history wrapped within it's walls.

Ok. Day three. As usual, gotta go. Photos to follow

Amsterdam good-bye

Twilight in Amsterdam
red lights are brothels

We leave Amsterdam this morning and, rainy and cold as it's been lately, we're ready. I'm not exactly going to miss this place but I won't forget it either.

We did get to Rembrandt's house. Swami calls him Zoon, which means son in Dutch. Understandable. Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn is a mouthful. Anyway, Rembrandt is one of my favorite painters so going there was on my must do list. M. Lee wasn't so impressed because the house is something of a "George Washington's axe", i.e. same axe... just with a new handle and a new axe head. But Swami and I had a great time. It was, after all, where Rembrandt lived. The location is the same. The light coming in the windows is the same light (more or less given pollution etc). There are paintings of his on the walls. But the tubes of paint, easels, and presses in the studios and the furniture, curtains, bedding, pots and pan etc. in the rest of the house are all props. Rembrandt went bankrupt and had to sell everything he owned to satisfy his debtors. However the Dutch are, if nothing else, great accountants. The auctioneers left a list of everything he had, down to the smallest paintbrush. From that, the museum did a good job of recreating the set. But we all liked seeing his etchings done on handmade Japanese paper. They were on exhibit in a less visited part of the house.

Me and Swami
at Rembrandt's house

Above all else, his house was a great studio with different rooms for different endeavors, an artist's dream. And yes, it's tawdry of me, but I did enjoy visiting the kitchen where, it is said, his outraged mistress threw pots and pans and screamed at him when he broke up with her.

Of course, this wasn't the only place we visited during our stay here but it's all the time I have at the moment to write about it. But I will say this. Visually, Amsterdam is a city right out of one of my childhood books. The houses are narrow and tall and lean on each other as, slowly over the centuries, they sink into the wetlands bog upon which they are built. The fisherman should never have built anything here but fishing huts but it's too late now.

Up next, modern art

Today we're headed to the modern art museum. I am ready for a break from the medieval world. Yes, the art itself, for it's own sake, is interesting. Some of it's even good. And it's interesting to watch how techniques and point of view evolved over the centuries but, holy god! They do love their martyrs. It gets oppressive, all the images of beatific people sitting in pots of boiling oil or water, being flayed, beheaded, hung or stabbed to death by ragged dudes with long swords. Funny. I haven't seen much on the subject of the Christians racing through the world in search of their bullshit "holy grail" ie another power grab murderfest, or whatever other discrimination of the "other" they can get away with, courtesy of church and state. Same old same old, ISIS to Kim Davis. Even if the art at the Amsterdam modern art museum is as ridiculous as the crap we saw in Ghent at SMAK I don't care. Bring on the black paintings and metal shavings hanging from the wall. I'm ready for a laugh!

Notes on Amsterdam

I don't have time or energy after a long day to do a proper post but here are some notes.

Swami has his eye on the little yellow boat

We are staying across the IJ River (eye river) from the part of Amsterdam known as the old city. It's the area dating from the 17th century through which the grid of canals was built. M. tells me that Amsterdam began as a favorite fishing hole. I can imagine how that went. First some guys just come to fish. Eventually their wives start bringing them lunch, then decide to set up fire pits and, because it rains a lot, shelters and so on. Eventually they start digging the canals to drain the land. Today the canals are a UNESCO World Heritage Site, not the city itself. Some of the buildings look like they are slowly sinking into the ground, judging by the way they lean this way and that but, if they are, it's only happening over centuries. 

Also, if you are a pedestrian, WATCH IT! The bikes whiz by like bullets. Pedestrians are the bottom of the pecking order here. When planning this trip, we thought we'd rent bikes in Amsterdam but hell no! They all ride like devils so no one can also watch out for ice cream eating, selfie stick waving tourists. I've nearly been mowed down twice and didn't have either.

In Amsterdam, bikes whiz by like bullets.

Swami and friends

The whole world is on a first name basis with Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn but Swami calls him Zoon.  He tells me they go way back.

Swami and his old friend Zoon meet again
at Rijks Museum - Amsterdam

This little fellow looked really weary walking around saying hello to everyone at a kid's carnival in Bruges...

Roby working at a kid's carnival

... then he came upon his old friend, Swami.

Old friends meet again

"A friend is, as it were, a second self." - Marcus Tullius Cicero

Fit for a king?

Ghent, Belgium

Touring the Count's house

For an eccentric like me, the backstage lives of footnote characters is the best part of history. Their stories can offer a roundabout peek into color main players either lack or do their best to hide. So, though I respect the perfection and importance of the van Eyck brother's masterpiece The Adoration of the Mystic Lamb, which was at the top of our must see list here in Ghent, visiting the home of Count d'Hane de Steeuhuysein was more of an adventure. According to our guide, here's the deal.....

In 1815, when Napoleon re-conquered Paris, Louis XVIII fled for his life. Of course, he wanted to go to buzzy London but he owed too much money there so he went to Ghent and stayed with the Count instead. The house was not exactly fit for a king but definitely better than what Napoleon had in mind for him. The entrance was covered and included a marble stairs mounting to a large reception hall leading to a sweeping staircase. And, of course, there was a music room, a ballroom with angels peeking down from the clouds and the Count immediately put his servants at the King’s disposal.

Louis's chair in Ghent

Now Louis XVIII was very fat so using the stairs was out of the question. He took over the downstairs and the Count, his wife and their three children stayed upstairs. They were, basically, hostages of the king. Lucky for everyone, it only took the Duke of Wellington one hundred days to kick Napoleon back out of Paris after which the King made a hasty return. For his service and hospitality, the Count anticipated a generous reward … a better title, money, perhaps both, maybe more. Instead Louie sent him some plates and bowls. Nothing more. They are still there in the house, on display in a glass case… a few big, mostly white plates and bowls. They look like something you might see on sale in a charity shop.

Our guide at
the Count's house

Another detail I found interesting was that, while there, the King took his meals in a room facing the street and the giant windows were thrown open so the town people could stand outside and watch him eat. They did not come because they loved him. The people of Ghent did not want a French king but they did come to watch him eat. I can't blame them. Who would pass on the chance to watch a king eat? Did he wear white gloves and a plumed hat? Did he savor tiny bits of food from the tip of a silver fork or did he slurp and burp his way through a greasy feast? The guide didn’t say but I am intrigued by the image of the king gorging himself by candlelight as a crowd stares in at him from the dark street.

Our guide also explained an intriguing detail about the absurd, billowing, multi-layered, tightly corseted clothing women wore in those days. When dressed in this manner, a woman's personal servant was near at hand, prepared to slip a portable toilet under her dress because pulling up all those layers and layers of cloth, hoops and petticoats and sitting down on a regular toilet was an impossible task. Even at night, her servant was nearby. We saw where they both slept, the maidservant tucked in a cubbyhole above her mistress’s bed. Seems that privacy, as we know it, was unheard of.

Flaky angels

Of course everyone from that time is long dead and, over the centuries, the house itself fell into disrepair. Walls were added dividing it into separate addresses and even the grand staircase was moved forward to fit into a smaller apartment. One of the rooms along the street was turned into a pharmacy and the angels in the ballroom began flaking paint on the floor below. However, in recent years the city of Ghent bought and revived the old place. Divider walls were knocked out and rooms restored to their original shape and size. The stairs were returned to their original position and the entrance to the pharmacy was replaced by windows duplicating those through which people used to watch the king take his meals. The angels in the ballroom are still flaky but that's angels isn't it? Always delicate and unruly.

We're now in Amsterdam for the next two weeks.

Thea said

 Today's quote from my six-year old granddaughter,

"Kids are totally cool, but not grown-ups.  The only reason grown-ups are cool is cause they're so easy to annoy. You can frustrate them and then they put you in your room and you get to be by yourself for awhile. And then you can make plans to run away and get all the candy in the world. I've gone bankrupt for candy."