Balkans good-bye

Brasov, Romania -  train to Budapest

I didn't post much about our summer train tour of the Balkans while it was happening and now it's over. That's how life goes, isn't it? One day, you're just starting out and the next you're looking back. It all started last winter in Bangkok. M. Lee got the crazy idea we should check out Romania this summer by the most indirect, meandering, roundabout route he could devise and, well, that is what we did.

Romania anytime in the last 1000 years
~photo by M. Lee~

We left London in July on the Eurostar and, to date, have taken 16 trains, one plane, one bus, lots of undergrounds and trams, rented one car, and walked hundreds of miles exploring some new-for-us old worlds in northern Italy, the Balkans, and now northern Europe. We're done with the train part of the journey now. It's hectic being so much on the move but it's been fun. Plus, we both love trains anyway, even Balkans trains which are pretty funky.

Swami viewing "Dracula's castle" from afar

As M. put it, “comparing trains in the Balkans to the Eurostar is like comparing skateboards to rocket ships”. OK, an exaggeration but that's how it felt after being on a train averaging 25mph for 13 hours . . .  with no dining or café car, no vendor with water and snacks, and no toilet paper. However, experience has prepared us for days like this. We brought our own sandwiches, apples, cookies, water, and tissue.

Vlad Dracul House, birthplace of Vlad the Impaler
in the medieval town of Sighisoara

But trains aside, seems M. really was inspired when he came up with this trip. Romania is a special place. Of course, Transylvania is in Romania so, yes, we drove out to the village of Bran to see "Dracula's Castle", a hot tourist spot in the Transylvania mountains. Its real name is Bran Castle and it was built by the Saxons at the end of the 13th century. Some claim it was Vlad the Impaler's (aka Vlad Dracul) castle during the 15th century and that Vlad Dracul was the inspiration for Bram Stoker's Dracula but the history is unclear. Whether Vlad Dracul ever lived at Bran Castle or Bram Stoker knew anything about him is up for debate.

Inside the 16 ft (5 m) walls of the fortified church in Prejmer
The town's people took refuge there when invaders attacked the village.

What is clear is that Vlad the Impaler was an all too real, brutal sadist, as well as a prince and wartime leader. For example, I read that when he was imprisoned he amused himself by torturing rats. And a Romanian fellow we met along the way was only too happy to tell us that, according to legend, knowing that the Ottoman army was approaching, Vlad Dracul personally impaled 1000 Ottoman soldiers and laid them out row by row as a way of greeting and that upon seeing the carnage, the army turned around and left. We only did a drive-by at "Dracula's Castle". The tour gets horrible reviews.

Outside the inner walls of Viscri,
a medieval church in Romania
~photo by M. Lee~

What we did do, and really loved, was exploring a few of Transylvania's amazing medieval fortified churches and villages. Romania has been an out of the way place for centuries which means many of its historical sites have survived intact to the present day.

Outside the inner walls of Viscri,
a medieval church in Romania

Of its over 300+ fortified churches built between the 5th and 15th centuries, over 150 well-preserved sites remain and many are listed as UNESCO World Heritage Sites. We rented a car just so we could visit a few. Also amazing is that we were free to wander around the 1000+ year-old churches on our own. Sometimes we even had the place to ourselves. That is positively as good as it gets.

Balkans good-bye
~Horse, colt and wagon along the railroad tracks~

And Romania's countryside was the most pristine and beautiful I’ve ever seen. Shepherds and dogs still tend their flocks on the mostly open (no fences) gently rolling hills and horse and wagon are still a regular means of transportation. Now it has already been a month since we left Romania and the Balkans behind. I took this picture (Balkans good-bye") from the train the morning we left. As it has been since humans and horses first worked together, the colt is running along beside his mother as she and another horse pull the wagon. Romania, the land where time goes to get away from itself. 

Romanian countryside

So 15 cities and 12 countries later it's autumn. Though I haven't written much about it here, I took hundreds, maybe 1000s of photos along the way and even managed to post a few here, on Instagram and Flickr and will continue to. We've been in Berlin a week now and are leaving on the bus Saturday for Copenhagen and with that, this episode comes to an end. Next, Africa.

Vienna, Austria

Vagabond Lee's very good birthday in Romania

It's been about seven years since the vagabond guest blogger, M. Lee, contributed anything here but last week, after his birthday encounter with a Romanian cop, he agreed to share the story here.

Peles Palace
Romania

I like Romania.  It likes me. Here is my birthday story.

Today was our last day with the car.  We're leaving tomorrow for Budapest.  I hate renting cars and I'm pretty sick of driving in general, but for here, it's a necessity.  So we had this car for six days.  On the first day, I dented it.  I have 3rd party insurance, but still, paperwork, anxiety, etc.  That was the first day.  Do you think I put it out of my mind?  No, of course not, each passing day it only got worse.

Asha hurt her knee so she can't walk much right now but we already took yesterday off, so I was at least going to take a road trip.  We headed out to visit Peles Palace on the main highway, a two lane road.  According to Google, it would take us an hour to go 20 miles.  I moved with the flow of traffic and about 20 minutes out I got flagged by a traffic cop who was parked by the side of the road.  I've been through this enough, it's the shake down and fuck it, Romania is cheap, but I've been saving the last of my Romanian money to fill up the gas tank on the way back.  It's a minor inconvenience, but I'm not really sweating it when the traffic cop comes over and starts talking to me in Romanian.

"Romeneshte no, inglese?" I say.

"I need to see identification and license please."

I hand over my passport and drivers license and he tells me to get out of the car and follow him back to his car.  There, he shows me a dashboard device displaying, presumably, my speed and the contrasting speed limit.  The angle is bad and I can't really see it but who cares, I know where this is going.

"You pay the ticket now.  145 lei.  You pay now."

"I need to see the ticket first, can you show me the ticket." I say.

He shows me the large ticket book but remains adamant, I must fork over the cash now, and he'll give me the "ticket" after.  I fork over the cash.

"You go back to your car now and wait."

I'm back in the car, waiting as instructed, about 50 US dollars poorer.  The other cop, the guy's partner, flags down a bus.  I don't feel so persecuted, so singled out.  If this is not a scam, they must have a remote radar somewhere on the road because otherwise, they are just two fat cops sitting in a car on the side of the road waiting for random victims.  As that guy passes me, heading toward the bus, he says "you go back there now".  So I go, back to the patrol car.

There, my cop has my passport open and points to the date and says "today is your birthday".  "Yeah" I reply, thinking, I don't know, maybe it's his birthday too?  "Happy birthday" he says, sticking his hand out to shake my hand.  I shake his hand and say thanks in Romanian and then he hands me back my money.  What?  "Happy birthday, you buy the missus with you some champagna, da?  You buy the champagna!"  Then he finishes writing the ticket, which takes about five more minutes because bureaucracy, and hands me my copy.  "Souvenir, you keep this for souvenir."

"Mooltzu mesk, la revederay" I say, showing off my scant Romanian, and skip back to the car.

And the dent later in the day at the car agency?  Fortunately, it's hard to see if you're tall, it's on the underside of the car below the door.  There's even a chance I didn't do it.  Amazingly, I get the tallest guy in the place to come look at the car, taller than me.  I wait inside.  He's back in a minute, rustling around, probably looking for accident forms while I act cool and pretend to be doing something on my phone.  He hands me a receipt showing the release of my deposit and I practically run out of the place before he can change his mind.

If the absence of pain is pleasure, then this has been a very good birthday.

In the rafters of a medieval church

Autumn Equinox

Vienna at twilight

Once again, the beginning of autumn. The equinox. I'm in Vienna. The equinox here is at 20:02 this evening then the night grows longer and the days grow cold. Be well wherever you are.

Athens

Exarchia neighborhood

In its own way, Athens is a something of a wreck. Greece has been in an economic tailspin for years now and, at least there, it shows. Of course, the fact that we stayed in Exarchia, (Aug 17/24) a neighborhood the US Embassy advises travelers avoid, amplified that reality. The streets are lined with olive trees but its otherwise post-apocalyptic look and feel is definitely not for everyone. We liked it. We had a quiet flat above a small grocery story and the area has a lot of excellent street art. I even liked the gutter to rooftop crust of weather-beaten posters and layers of graffiti.

Swami on the road to Plato's Academy

We stayed seven days so we bought the three day pass and walked to all the main sites, covering some 10 to 15 miles a day. One of my favorite places was the Kerameikos Cemetery. Its earliest tombs date back to 2700-2000 BC.  Even Plato had an Academy there, although there's nothing left of it but a sign and path leading to the face of a small hill upon which apartment buildings now stand. And we went to the Parthenon.

The second after I snapped this photo of Swami,
I was busted by a security guard.
He was nice enough but explained that,
in order to reduce traffic jams,
the rules strictly prohibit taking photos with mascotas.

As is so often the case at historical sites, it was roped off for renovation. The Parthenon has endured countless sackings during its 2455 years but the worst was by the Venetians in 1687. Thinking no one would fire upon a site of such historic importance, the Ottomans were using it as ammunition dump. Sadly, they overestimated the Venetian's cultural values and sense of history. Immediately upon hearing about the dump, they shelled the building. The damage was immense. The roof caved in, pillars collapsed, enormous sculptures were destroyed and 300 people were killed. The following year, now themselves facing attack by Ottomans, they fled. They considered blowing up the entire Acropolis before leaving but, lucky for us, didn't get around to it.

The Acropolis, Athens Greece

During high season, there's no beating the crowds. Five cruise ships were in port the day we visited. I'm glad we went but, really, I think the most inspiring views are from a distance.

Swami viewing the Acropolis

To be continued....

And now the Balkans

We're currently in the Balkans. I know very little about this area. I'm not even certain which countries are in the Balkans. Opinions differ, plus it depends on which century you're referring to. The one thing people do seem to agree on is that they're in eastern and southeastern Europe.

The history here is wildly complicated but one thing I have learned is that, from the 15th century, most of the Balkans were under Ottoman rule for about 500 years. By the mid-20th century Balkan countries, free of Ottoman influence began experimenting with socialism and communism. Today, the Balkan countries are all more or less democratic but still very raw. Romania, where we are now, only got rid of its strong man dictator in 1989.

But back to now. On August 9, we took the train from Venice to Slovenia, our first country in the Balkans. We stayed three days there, in Ljubljana - then five in Belgrade (Serbia) - six in Athens and five in Thessaloniki (Greece), and then five days in Sofia (Bulgaria). Now, after a ten hour train from Sofia to Bucharest, we're in Romania for 11 days . . . five in Bucharest then on to Brasov for six including, of course, Transylvania. It's hard to keep up with all this here. We're out every day and when I'm online, sadly, the current Trump and Republican shit show in America occupies a fair amount of my attention. Paltry as they be, the following notes are all I've got for now.

Our apartment in Ljubljana was a tiny quasi-fascist era flat, very basic but good internet, quiet, centrally located, with a very friendly host, an American fellow married to a Slovenian. And Ljubljana itself is a nice town built along a river in an area first settled about 2000 B.C. According to legend, it is guarded by dragons. It's a very livable place, with pedestrian streets, lively open air cafes and markets. There's even an anarchist neighborhood in Ljubljana famous for its graffiti, art projects and night life. Luckily, the world wars of the 20th century mostly bypassed Ljubljana though it was under fascist rule from WWII until 1991 which, predictably, left it somewhat bleak.

Sad reminder of the Kosovo War
Belgrade, Serbia

Belgrade was a different story. Its history dates back to at least 7000 BC and, because of its strategic location at the confluence of the Danube and Sava rivers, it has endured 115 wars and been razed to the ground 44 times, including by Attila the Hun in 471. Most recently, 1999, Belgrade was bombed again, this time for 78 days straight during the Kosovo War by both sides in the conflict.

Downtown Belgrade with bombed out building
Serbia

It was eerie being in a city my "own" country helped bomb. I could see the remains of a bombed out building from the window of our flat. And, as if that were not spectral enough, on what had been the fourth or fifth floor, a house nestled in the hollow of the building's skeleton. There were bombed out buildings in the center of town as well. I kept reminding myself that I am simply another bystander along the road as history marches by but, after hearing our tour guide's take on things, I have the distinct impression that poor Belgrade, hanging by its hinges, disagrees.

To be continued . . .

Thessaloniki church crawl

That's it for today. Will catch up later.

Bullshit

Sick and tired of the bullshit GOP and Trump clown show? Princeton Professor Emeritus Harry Frankfurt runs it down. Don't miss it.


BULLSHIT! from Think Nice on Vimeo.
Harry Frankfurt is an American philosopher and author of the New York Times Best Seller "On Bullshit". Although first conceived as an essay over 30 years ago, his theory on bullshit is more relevant than ever before.

Venice, truth and illusion

Venice, Italy

Venice - one fish eating another?

What can I say that hasn't been said about Venice a million++ times? And, of the hundreds of photos I took of Venice, what can I post that isn't already a cliche? But we were there for the two weeks straddling July and August so, for my own record, I leave mention.

Merchant in Venice

For starters, I don't know which will destroy Venice first, sea rise due to human caused climate change or us humans tromping through it's crumbling maze. Beautiful, timeworn, sea-wrecked Venice.

Venice, Italy with cruise ship

It's listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site yet is "close to losing its hallowed status in exchange for a place on the "In-Danger" list - a category normally reserved for war-ravaged ruins and dilapidated historical sites in Third World countries".

Venetian wall

What hope is there for poor Venice? I think of myself as fairly savvy about these things but still that didn't stop me from touching a brick in one of its ancient walls then being "startled" when red silt gushed from it like blood from a wound.

Damn.
I really am part of the problem.
photo by anonymous

Of course, like everyone else, we were put off by the hoards of other tourists. Some 70,000+ people pour into Venice daily even though it's more an apparition than a place. However, most are day trippers or cruise ship passengers there only for a few hours. The majority want to see the same things so, if you're willing to walk, you can explore Venice more or less on your own. That's what we did. It's what we always do.

Gondola jam

We did not take a gondola. It costs about €80 per boat ($95 US). At twilight, the price goes up to around €100. However, we did take the Grand Canal ferry. That cost us €7 each. Never mind we got on the wrong boat, an island hopper, and missed the canal altogether. We rode it to the end and hopped a return ferry which did go through the Grand Canal. I highly recommend it.

- Support -
Sculpture by Lorenzo Quinn
as seen from the ferry.
57th Venice Biennale

On our last two days there we attended the 57th Venice Biennale. Since it began in 1895, the venue has grown so huge, it is now more of an expedition into strange lands than anything resembling an "art show". The exhibits are organized by country and the two main locations alone house miles of art . . . installations, performance, cinema, music, spectacle from around the world.

Roberto Cuoghi, The Imitation of Christ
photo: anonymous

Also, the grounds themselves are historic and fascinating. And, beyond the two main venues, small exhibitions are tucked into various buildings within the city maze. We stumbled onto a few but missed most.



Recorded in the Venice Arsenale.
I love the sound the old building makes.
video by anonymous
If you travel at all, are thinking of trying it out, are an artist, lover of art, lover of spectacle, a history buff or whatever, consider attending the next Biennale in 2019. I hope by then Venice will have established daily tourist caps. In any case, if you plan on going, plan ahead.

Venice at twilight

More photos here.

Cimitero Monumentale

I didn't intend to but I spent all morning reading and commenting about Trump again. So irritating. It's such a flaming shit show. Everyday there's a new outrage. I'm glad Mueller has finally impaneled a grand jury. They've got to nail these bastards.

OK. Breathe. Breathe.

Kiss of Death

Now . . . back to Milan.

One of the grander tombs

Of all that I saw in Milan, the Cimitero Monumentale (Monumental Cemetery) was the most remarkable. This cemetery, founded in 1866, houses acres of amazing works in marble . . . everything from ornately carved name plates, portraits, busts, and figures to entire scenes, obelisks, and sepulchers. The artistry rivals many, if not most, museum pieces I've ever seen.

Some of the tombs depict the life, others betray the vanity, of the dearly departed. More importantly, most are extraordinarily expressive, making love, in life and in death, visceral.

The tomb of Zaira Brivio
B. 1876 -- D. 1896

For both of us, the most moving crypt in the entire cemetery was the tomb of Zaira Brivio, a 16 year-old girl who died in 1896. We lingered at her grave awhile, saddened by its beauty and the love expressed by her bereft family.

The tomb of Zaira Brivio
B. 1876 -- D. 1896

On another day, we visited Milan's Brera Art Gallery (Pinacoteca di Brera). The museum's collection was not the best but there were highlights. My favorite was Caravaggio's Supper at Emmaus,

Supper at Emmaus by Caravaggio
Pinacoteca di Brera museum - Milan, Italy

M. Lee's was an early perspective painting by Jacopo Tintoretto - St Mark Working Many Miracles

Jacopo Tintoretto - St Mark Working Many Miracles
attribution: Tintoretto [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

This summer we are moving around a lot more than usual. Since July 4, we've been in London a week, Basel Switzerland a week, Milan a week and now, many many photos later, we've been in Venice for almost two weeks. It's very hot. This Wednesday we leave for Ljubljana, Slovenia.

Milano

The best part of Milan was having dinner on a warm July evening with new friends in a pleasantly crowded courtyard cafe. It all felt very Italian until I declined the after-dinner coffee although, to their credit, everyone graciously pretended they weren't dismayed by my response. I was sorry to drop out of the flow but I like to sleep at night.

It's certainly not that I don't like coffee. I drink coffee by the mugful. It's one of the few things most of us Americans still agree on, the mug, though it's not so important in the rest of the world. We've stayed in over 50 Airbnb apartments, mostly outside the US, and of those only a couple were stocked with American-sized mugs. And, if you're traveling outside the US, forget about refills. If you want more coffee you buy another cup, full price. Say what you will about the treasonous dimwit and crew currently infesting the White House, at least in America it's possible to find a diner that still pours the proverbial endless cup. Not to say Italians don't love coffee. It ranks not far below the hallowed wine itself, but no sloshing gallons for them. In Italy coffee is a ritual so, as M. Lee recently forwarded me the Ten Commandments of Coffee, I've included them here for your convenience, should you be planning a first trip to Italy.

Skeletons of St. Ambrose and his two companions

Beyond that dinner, the Basilica of St. Ambrose (Basilica of Sant'Ambrogio) was one of my two favorite sites in Milan. The 1600 year-old basilica doesn't look that impressive from the outside. Its decorative plaster and bright frescoes are long gone leaving bare brick which makes it seem more like a garden house than important historical site.
 
I had to remind myself that St. Ambrose built his cathedral in the 4th century, 800 years before Cambodia's crumbling Angkor Wat was built which, by comparison, seemed so much older. Of course, over the centuries, parts of the basilica have also collapsed, been torn down, re-built, built up or over. It's like George Washington's axe which is said to be the very one young George used to chop down the legendary cherry tree, although both the head and handle have since been replaced. 

White slippers cover St. Ambrose's feet.
The foot bones of one of his companions are exposed.

St. Ambrose died in Milan in 397 and he, and his two companions, have laid in the crypt below the alter ever since—give or take a few centuries during which time they disappeared.

Next . . . the Cimitero Monumentale.

Basel lion and the strange drifting refrains

Basel, Switzerland


This "music" was coming from within
a 700 year-old cathedral where this lion was embedded in the door.

They say life is what you make of it. Yes, it's an irritatingly simplistic saying, an elitist platitude but, even at that, there is something to it otherwise we are dupes only, powerless to shape or influence our reality. So what do I make of life? A favorite view of mine is the surreal. I enjoy dark, ironic, absurdist and/or stupid humor and thrive on life's strange details hidden in plain sight. No wonder then, when I heard creepy organ music wafting from the nave of the 700 year-old built and rebuilt Münster (cathedral) in Basel I had to stop, listen and watch.

Firewords and another cemetery

4th of July Fireworks  -  Los Angeles
On the 4th of July flew from LA to London where we've been for the last few days, back in our old Finsbury Park neighborhood. This time we're much closer to our favorite halva place, Kofali Hot Nuts. The first day we bought a 2 lb block and have been working on it since. Also since arriving in London we've taken some good walks.

Lovely day in a London cemetery

For our first outing, needing a good walk to survive the stupor of  jet lag, we went to Kensal Green Cemetery. Nice place to visit. It's a charming mix of history, ruin and repair. Along with some 65,000 others, some English notables are laid to rest there including Charles Babbage, often referred to as the "father of the computer" and playwright and Nobel Laureate Harold Pinter.

Road's end

Rosie or As the Century Rolls On

The Bird Park has changed in the months we've been away. It's full of cats  . . . and a skunk with a fabulous long flowing tail whom I call Rosie. In the brief time we were back, I put food out as always and good old Maggie Magpie, who ever keeps an eye on the place, showed up for breakfast as always, but she was one of the very few birds daring enough to do so.



Of course, predators have hunted here before but never stayed. Until now, the Bird Park was a relatively peaceful world just for birds. No more and I'm sad about that. I suspect these cats live in the house just over the back fence so they have the place for now. The black one spent most of her time staking out the squirrel hole and all four came and went at will. At various times I chased them away but it won't matter. I'm already gone again for months. Perhaps this is the end of an era.

Happy Summer Solstice

First day of summer. All the mysticism and high holy aspirations aside . . .  do yourself a favor. Pause. Yes. Take a moment or two today to breathe, look around, start fresh. Pass it on.

On the eve of Comey's testimony . . .

. . .  life goes on . . .

Cow: is this bus going downtown??

Driver: depends on whether or not you have moola lolol

Cow: I'm fucking late to work Craig.

pic.twitter.com/P2J7xmH5Me

— Lone Wulf (@14thSquadLt) June 7, 2017

Why tick tock, zig zag, ding dong, King Kong?

If you're a word geek, there's a delightful article at the BBC by Mark Forsyth I think you'll enjoy. Check it out. "The language we know but don't know we know."

The big bad wolf ie the rule of ablaut reduplication

“Adjectives in English absolutely have to be in this order: opinion-size-age-shape-colour-origin-material-purpose Noun. So you can have a lovely little old rectangular green French silver whittling knife. But if you mess with that word order in the slightest you’ll sound like a maniac. It’s an odd thing that every English speaker uses that list, but almost none of us could write it out.” - Mark Forsyth, BBC

Freedom, sweet freedom!

These animals are tasting freedom for the first time pic.twitter.com/zd1yfQh9kz

— The Dodo (@dodo) May 21, 2017

Desperate Trump fires Comey

Trump just fired James Comey, the man who was leading the FBI's ongoing investigation of his campaign ties to Russia during the hacked 2016 Presidential election. The Golden Boy's hubris is staggering. He actually does think he's above the law. The truth is he's a brazen, dirty, greedy, smug incompetent.




He might as well have written "GUILTY of TREASON" on his forehead in that crazy scroll of his. The New York Time's calls Trump’s Firing of James Comey as Echoes of Watergate. 

Trump's firing of Comey "echoes of Watergate". - NYT

The NY Times posted a link to the letter Trump sent to the FBI announcing the news of his dismissal of Comey. Fox Fake News ran a different story, of course, claiming Comey resigned until finally it was impossible to deny.

Sally Yates - Jeff Session then and now

Watch Sally Yates kick some swampass then and now. Thanks Parker.

Since real life doesn't have a dream sequence/flashback feature, I made this. #SallyYates pic.twitter.com/0mr0JLrGUe

— Parker Molloy (@ParkerMolloy) May 8, 2017

Crows like Ol' Roy

I don't know how good it is for them but clearly the crows at the Bird Park prefer Ol' Roy puppy chow to other brands. Magpies too. In fact, I tried Pedigree puppy chow and the squirrel was the only one willing to finish it up. And just to be clear, I am not doing a commercial here. I'm noting it in case someone happens upon this post who likes feeding birds and the occasional squirrel. Nothing more. And no. Don't feed birds cat chow. Too rich. Another reason to feed puppy chow is that the bits are smaller therefore easier to swallow. That is all.

Swami and Flat Eric

Rockin' out here tonight . . .



. . . with Swami, his cousin, Flat Eric . . .



. . and Mr. Oizo.

Studio notes: Degas and Henri Roché pastels

Seems that flu I had over the weekend is finally winding down. I spent this morning in my studio and did a couple of quick pencil/pastel drawings. When we're traveling, I put the studio out of mind but being in it is like being in the middle of the world. Now, M. Lee is planning another big trip. The question always is how to the studio with me when we're on the move.

Interview with Isabelle Roché at La Maison du Pastel

Speaking of pastels, when we were in LA last week we saw some of the later pastel works by Degas at The Getty. Also we saw one of Degas's personal cases of (used) pastels—Henri Roché's, handmade in Paris at La Maison du Pastel. I've never work with that brand. My pastels are cheap and sold in many places. Henri Roché pastels are not. A quick web search put to rest any notion I might switch to them. A single, full-size stick costs 20 Euros, currently that's just over $21 US.

Complete set of Henri Roché pastels
1201 colors
$17,550.00

Meanwhile, in America . . .

 The neighbor is rockin' the country tunes. That means he's outside in his hot tub. Trump rages on. He and Kim Jung Un are in a dick measuring contest. This in Trumpie's first 80 days. We knew that was going to happen. These guys are twins. As for me, I'm sick . . .food poisoning, flu or whatever. Whatever it is, I haven't felt this bad in a long time. I must be getting better though. I've managed a glass a water and this. Now on to the tea.

What time is it anyway?

The Pacific ocean at dawn and a lone boat far below on the sea.

We checked out of our room in Bangkok in the morning. Our flight left at 2 AM the next morning. We arrived in LA 20 hours later or four hours later by the clock. It's now nearly 10 PM or noon tomorrow according to my body. I haven't slept since Bangkok but I'm not sleepy. Jet lag is brutal.

Spring Equinox 2017

It's morning in America, 06:33 AM PST when I started this post and the first day of Spring. For Pearl, a flickr friend in Australia, today is the long awaited first day of fall. As the sun returns to our hemisphere I hope she and her beloved companions Ms. Pips and Ms. Woolly and their world finally get relief from what has been a summer of grueling heat.

Spring Equinox night in Bangkok

It's the end of the day here in Bangkok. The high was 34° Celsius (93.2° Fahrenheit). Like I said, I didn't know it was the equinox when I woke up but the morning light gave me pause, something about how it illuminated the leaves of the trees below my window. They glowed primavera green. They called to me, drew me in, reminded me . . . even in this blade runner city . . . earth lives . . . will prevail. That area is dark now, the left third of this photo I took tonight. A lot of Thai people live in that section, under long, shared tin roofs. I don't think there is much in the way of walls between them. The trees grow wild there. They have been hacked down numerous times but grow back again, as they are now.

Happy first day of Spring and Roy, thank you for reminding me.

Swami and the Moon over Bangkok

Swami and the moon tonight
Bangkok

Publishing and republishing

Besides publishing a current list of literary magazines accepting reprints, the blog Published to Death includes a link to poetry publishers accepting unagented manuscripts. And it's not just for poetry. There are listings for all genres, including visual, and their markets and includes cool links such as . . . calls for submissions by the month, paying markets etc. Yes, there are similar sites, but this is a good one.


Of course, Duotrope is, at least in my limited experience, the best of the best when it comes to offering an "extensive, searchable database of current fiction, poetry, nonfiction, and visual art markets, a calendar of upcoming deadlines, a personal submissions tracker, and useful statistics compiled from the millions of data points". Yes, that's their description but it is what they do and they do it well. I was a subscriber until they erected a paywall. After that I couldn't justify the expense. I seldom followed through and actually submitted anything.


I did a poetry blog instead. Poetry needs to be free. However, that means if I want to publish something elsewhere, in a "real" publication, I must find publishers who accept reprints.  Annasadhorse may be one of the the least visited sites in the universe but most publishers automatically refuse anything unless they get first rights. Rock and a hard place.

Beware the Six Month Rule

Back in Bangkok after an ill-fated trip to Singapore. We were planning to stay there for five days and then slowly travel north though Malaysia working our way back to Bangkok. Unfortunately, at customs Lee ran up against the Six Month Rule and we had to cancel our plans. In fact, only after a prolonged interview with the head of customs at the Singapore airport was he allowed into the country.

The Six Month Rule requires that, to enter the country, your passport must be valid for at least six months beyond your travel dates. A list of countries that have this requirement here. Lee's passport expires in April. We picked up six month tourist visas for Thailand before leaving the US, so we didn't learn about the rule until Singapore. They could have turned him away right there but, after showing return travel arrangements, he was permitted entry. Plus it probably helped that his passport was already full of stamps from other countries, some proof anyway of our nomadic life-style. We felt very lucky, especially after learning that Singapore is very strict about it. So, beware the Six Month Travel rule or you might find yourself on day one of a trip headed back home on the next available flight whatever the cost, whether you can afford it or not.

But we did stay five days in Singapore. More about that later.

Pattaya

Morning in Pattaya

Some call Pattaya the wild west of Thailand. We were there for a conference so, other than streets thronging with nearly naked bar girls and fat, grubby sexpats with girlfriends younger than their granddaughters, we saw none of it.

Evening in Pattaya

A friend at the conference did mention however that, while on the lunch break, a ladyboy grabbed  him by the crotch and tried pulling him in for a drink. I'm not sure Trump would like Pattaya. He likes to do the grabbing.

It was inevitable

Mysteries on Sukhumvit

Four more or less identical mirrors hang above the sidewalk on the front of a strange shop along Sukhumvit, one of Bangkok's busiest streets. They are too high up to use as mirrors so why they are there, as ornaments, protection from spirits or whatever, I do not know. Whenever I pass by, the door is locked and the shade pulled, thus it remains a mystery.

To be continued . . .

The Silent Majority aka The Deplorables

Silence is compliance . . . PERIOD
Here is the very long list of Republicans who have remained silent on Trump's refugee ban. Time to dump the spineless, compliant Republican Party!

THE DEPLORABLE GOP

The Deplorable Republican Silent Majority

source: Vox

Lunar New Year 2017

Tis the year of the Fire Rooster according to the Chinese lunar calendar, so Happy New Year. Here's wishing you all the best in the coming year. They say if you encounter a dragon on the lunar new year, give him money. We did so we did. Dragon was moving fast so Swami had to follow him into a girlie bar to put money in his mouth.

Swami and the Dragon
Bar on Sukhumvit soi 22

Americans protest Trump nationwide

The Big News today, the gigantic event that took place today . . .

The numbers speak for themselves

. . . is that millions of Americans protested the swearing in of the most vile, sexist, racist, liar, the most corrupt, the most compromised, toxic, hate-spewing, stupid, impulse driven creep to ever darken the door the White House ... Traitor Donald Jackass Trump.

Trump is nothing more than a statistical anomaly from the twilight zone. He lost the popular vote by a greater margin than any President in the history of the United States. It is only because of the outdated "electoral college" that he now wields immeasurable power but . . .  We are stronger. This loser didn't even have the balls to attend his first press conference.

Squirrel Appreciation Day

It's Squirrel Appreciation Day.

Make a squirrel's day.

Ringling Circus dreams

This spring the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus is emptying its cages and folding up its big tent forever.

When I was in my early twenties I nearly joined Ringling Bros. circus. A job was waiting. Well, a job was waiting for Billy Grummel but we both knew Joey, the "one time with a dime" guy who ran a ring toss game on the midway and our mutual lover. Billy could work on the midway. I dreamed of taking care of the elephants. But all that's another story. My point is, I too once loved the circus but today I celebrate its demise.

I didn't know then what I know now. I didn't realize that elephants who, in the wild, might enjoy a 100 mile stroll before breakfast, are tortured until their spirit breaks then sold into a life of slavery. Except for when they perform, give rides to tourists, haul logs, beg on the street or at a temple etc. they live in chains.

So good. Ringling Bros. circus is closing. It only took 36 years of petitions, protests, legal wrangling but finally, finally it's closing. Thank you to all who wrote letters, signed online petitions, sent in a few bucks, explained to the kids why "we aren't going to the circus", joined a street protest when the circus came to town, talked to a friend about it, blogged about it ... whatever ... cared. The voice of compassion has been heard although, of course, it was the loss of revenue that carried it to the ears. It's all good.

And now . . . .

Where I hang my hat

After 38 hours of travel we're, well, "home" or back in Bangkok. They tell me missing December here means missing the best weather of the year but, IMO, the weather is still nice, that is ... overcast and "cool" . . . 28° C or 82.4 F. That's "winter" temps in Thailand. I'm not being facetious. Bangkok malls are all carrying winter clothes ... poly jackets, heavy coats, sweaters, hats, gloves and just yesterday a friend, a westerner, even complained it was cold. Having just left Oregon where winter cold froze the dog poop in my daughter's backyard, allowing for a speeding, aroma-free removal and a giant snow storm left my mother-in-law and her cat, Alley, stranded at home surviving on dwindling rations, 28° C is not cold. Oh well. Reality is relative.

Ok. Gotta go. Meeting a friend in an hour.

Day One, 2017

Happy New Year.

Is this idea of a "new" year merely a stupid fantasy? Oh well. Who cares? As Heraclitus said, change is the only constant. In that light, painful though it may be, here's hoping changes in this new year led to new, better beginnings.

Also, in keeping with the season, I published a new poem on AnnaSadhorse, Horary for the Third Millennium CE.