tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35869864785696049012024-03-04T21:18:05.347-08:00Fitts-Heynes AbroadFall in Athens, Spring in Oviedo--what could be better?Eric Heynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13966355802850256623noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3586986478569604901.post-49838400595253776122011-06-22T23:08:00.000-07:002011-06-22T23:08:47.182-07:00There and Back Again<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">So, we made it home. As you already know, since we've talked to every reader of this blog in the last few weeks (that is, both of them). But there's still the story of the return journey to be told, for Posterity, whomever the hell that is. The return trip started with our last full day in Oviedo, rainy (not surprisingly), but we walked all over town taking pictures of every sculpture we knew of and even finding a couple we didn't know about. We planned this as a way to say goodbye to Oviedo, to indulge our nostalgia, and get out of the house and walk around a lot before we'd be sitting on our butts traveling for a couple of days.<br />
<br />
Our main target was the tribute to "Labor" in the Parque San Francisco, on Uria, the main street, a statue that looked uncannily like a monument to disco.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRlP_GhAV3VgYVVwqxrk9MMqHjRTXrtdgrFnLqLKQltEXvUy7GvJrHg0nIKQwj1Tjz4xp_KQUmsDhHRwu5wB_mEmPy0T6luODcztW0IH6Q9htuAX27zryOyf41WSW1VMKLkDvrQvvxZ5k/s1600/gettin%2527+down.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRlP_GhAV3VgYVVwqxrk9MMqHjRTXrtdgrFnLqLKQltEXvUy7GvJrHg0nIKQwj1Tjz4xp_KQUmsDhHRwu5wB_mEmPy0T6luODcztW0IH6Q9htuAX27zryOyf41WSW1VMKLkDvrQvvxZ5k/s320/gettin%2527+down.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSphjS_T7hlvSHXTlVaWr9gpFVl-WEC-pfcR0KcJLYfM5j5jfZ26UGU6tIHn6j9Rt5pY3a9zgD_ngUXT6MNgNDlLJWFPSk-i8LjqpEwE91MYPEtsJNmXpw6JyfatVpZonNqEvg1ZV-9x4/s1600/raising%2527+the+roof.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSphjS_T7hlvSHXTlVaWr9gpFVl-WEC-pfcR0KcJLYfM5j5jfZ26UGU6tIHn6j9Rt5pY3a9zgD_ngUXT6MNgNDlLJWFPSk-i8LjqpEwE91MYPEtsJNmXpw6JyfatVpZonNqEvg1ZV-9x4/s320/raising%2527+the+roof.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
Of course, we had to do some participatory poses, like the girls raisin' the roof here. Our very first stop was in our neighborhood, Annabel hanging out with the <i>sidra</i> pourers, and then Annabel and I posed with the photograper's shop.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ9rtxbiA7IM4RPaM-G_w4jZSGuO24wEw6SRTK8t5g-uzsVZJj5T7za6yy9q5CJsSrturHQy66WYm4FOJpYtOrnlt_wnr4lBirVi0ea0HXqt8g0SmvUMZJ9uTPns-JfthhyphenhyphenxufzA_Fvho/s1600/Sidra+drinkers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ9rtxbiA7IM4RPaM-G_w4jZSGuO24wEw6SRTK8t5g-uzsVZJj5T7za6yy9q5CJsSrturHQy66WYm4FOJpYtOrnlt_wnr4lBirVi0ea0HXqt8g0SmvUMZJ9uTPns-JfthhyphenhyphenxufzA_Fvho/s320/Sidra+drinkers.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4vgblNfc8b-1Sk4JKjycDMmQzFynmXaT42PHmamwjOq87JPAJWvJmrheDnpfa6NXaL6-jAtLGG7N1mFgs8hFAZhezdCthEe7tWVVpvrepiXVVO8C0EYJfSiyqqYVTvKXVj5p2zujh0IQ/s1600/photo+shop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4vgblNfc8b-1Sk4JKjycDMmQzFynmXaT42PHmamwjOq87JPAJWvJmrheDnpfa6NXaL6-jAtLGG7N1mFgs8hFAZhezdCthEe7tWVVpvrepiXVVO8C0EYJfSiyqqYVTvKXVj5p2zujh0IQ/s320/photo+shop.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
We had to pose with the luggage, since this was all about leaving. And then, of course, we had to get front and back shots of "the Butt."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO6q8-GcehNa7QgyyJBzpA7o6QD041RsEY62QKOKOEoG2AxgRkZG3wXzdqHukWQsfq5FfUBxaJsaF2_EMOQbx6RRtGRaI4cYFVnYsOybM30xGE92K50wP2JSx1ZVygnFNmhfyh3Yzq72k/s1600/packing+up.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO6q8-GcehNa7QgyyJBzpA7o6QD041RsEY62QKOKOEoG2AxgRkZG3wXzdqHukWQsfq5FfUBxaJsaF2_EMOQbx6RRtGRaI4cYFVnYsOybM30xGE92K50wP2JSx1ZVygnFNmhfyh3Yzq72k/s320/packing+up.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbqtSllAlXFfhr827b-ij2PCdYNrQVsAKiqeVuTXE2kHbq5r1VkvPEYib430bpeJ5P6WC2xYdfuOIOQoDJDOc7ZeXNpmeZWw7MhaQXxdukc9s0LBjivC3SpQKd39a4rIG4AMQU-AvHOuE/s1600/butt+%2528f%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbqtSllAlXFfhr827b-ij2PCdYNrQVsAKiqeVuTXE2kHbq5r1VkvPEYib430bpeJ5P6WC2xYdfuOIOQoDJDOc7ZeXNpmeZWw7MhaQXxdukc9s0LBjivC3SpQKd39a4rIG4AMQU-AvHOuE/s320/butt+%2528f%2529.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqbt1yKvcwWUVIIJi8gNTso-0U_TzeSmYqZpLdwg6SU9xe9ulavM0eFuTe8b3-z_B4R_sBbXjQPAek-ix6_0KnYp3KyncK4CCNEO8Q0DC5M4GIl6oUWY_cZxvJTDN2PmXNwS-IWJVBSIo/s1600/butt+%2528r%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqbt1yKvcwWUVIIJi8gNTso-0U_TzeSmYqZpLdwg6SU9xe9ulavM0eFuTe8b3-z_B4R_sBbXjQPAek-ix6_0KnYp3KyncK4CCNEO8Q0DC5M4GIl6oUWY_cZxvJTDN2PmXNwS-IWJVBSIo/s320/butt+%2528r%2529.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
Yes, Oviedo does not merely have a giant butt sculpture in one of its most crowded intersections--there's a butt on each side. But at least that solves the problem of how to represent a giant crotch. <br />
<br />
For a couple of weeks before we left, since after the elections in Spain, there had been a protest camp in one of the central squares, and they incorporate one of the most well-known sculptures, La Gorda (the fat woman), into their protest. This is one of MANY tributes to motherhood that have been immortalized in sculpture in Oviedo. We took pictures of at least three different statues that were called "La Maternidad," and they were bad and sometimes really weird. This is the best of the bunch--if you can see it behind the signs.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5_tjFi6G6hYwoz7plpNoqRb16vrjGYrHkM4Irj6z05tV-7tdS32ER7UQ_nSevneN0MPF1p9yL_QLTibS3o9wwRSBwGCsIwFPdQJtgOnZJuwGTXMCv5vjf998pngV5hzVJe6-eknsZk4c/s1600/La+Gorda+under+protest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5_tjFi6G6hYwoz7plpNoqRb16vrjGYrHkM4Irj6z05tV-7tdS32ER7UQ_nSevneN0MPF1p9yL_QLTibS3o9wwRSBwGCsIwFPdQJtgOnZJuwGTXMCv5vjf998pngV5hzVJe6-eknsZk4c/s320/La+Gorda+under+protest.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjusSnk6pFCtcEt5PnOsmIc1aTGjdyfzwkvfoGEFZJnzSxFg9YoPzt4NVoC6X78RyfhgZGc4_y8x6FkGWcvuN_FQoDWCnvNAewOJpVhApY5nKAqDr4M4XXx7JnbhvU7K2ASBQSyxauidC0/s1600/just+for+scale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjusSnk6pFCtcEt5PnOsmIc1aTGjdyfzwkvfoGEFZJnzSxFg9YoPzt4NVoC6X78RyfhgZGc4_y8x6FkGWcvuN_FQoDWCnvNAewOJpVhApY5nKAqDr4M4XXx7JnbhvU7K2ASBQSyxauidC0/s320/just+for+scale.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
And another one practicing participatory sculpture-photography--Annabel in the book-hat, with the humanities campus in the background, very close to our apartment. We took a few pictures of other things besides sculptures, including more than one in the "cured meat" category, like the <i>jamon</i> vending machine that Alex had been meaning to photograph for months (with a portrait of us reflected in it), and the window full of <i>chorizo</i> at the <i>Rey Jamon</i>. Also an occasional favorite bit of architecture, in a town full of interesting and varied buildings--this one is Alex's favorite.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWqm7MWRf4fQ63Q9REnyZwMLX9pLS16u_2EtKt6MzIT4gTqzLQPUw4OryKWCjQp3K5XMl3h3qAxn4OiNr6yqBjv4XRLw5r_JSk5Y5KI9iK_Z4vZBF5uZsP2qixFWXjgIEDJA3eL0l_2xY/s1600/jamon+vending+machine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWqm7MWRf4fQ63Q9REnyZwMLX9pLS16u_2EtKt6MzIT4gTqzLQPUw4OryKWCjQp3K5XMl3h3qAxn4OiNr6yqBjv4XRLw5r_JSk5Y5KI9iK_Z4vZBF5uZsP2qixFWXjgIEDJA3eL0l_2xY/s320/jamon+vending+machine.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjQ2hyphenhyphenky0praO7jWivIyo4AUgfm9suV-ipP5XJl3SvDLC6q2wlrgrIzsmEjgPym9uRg1Yl6ofR_6trBxjaXeWRhVIfePs0UT0yVB7C2mDfWbfRT61ADtcj17aHfxisZ5suyYRhk1s5Ixw/s1600/window+full+of+chorizo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjQ2hyphenhyphenky0praO7jWivIyo4AUgfm9suV-ipP5XJl3SvDLC6q2wlrgrIzsmEjgPym9uRg1Yl6ofR_6trBxjaXeWRhVIfePs0UT0yVB7C2mDfWbfRT61ADtcj17aHfxisZ5suyYRhk1s5Ixw/s320/window+full+of+chorizo.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4f-Wv79n3SlBeseMe6I7OTH841BcVFsTDu8QBBTa50Vfdkf0HmnkhL9NL19Tm1EDBNR21v_BRDkwCPZFxcOmo4Pym3tXMOdVBeX-KjjE2a6bX0BhnH7fWMOFlwuOSJAnZv9bfKLXc1jk/s1600/Alex%2527s+favorite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4f-Wv79n3SlBeseMe6I7OTH841BcVFsTDu8QBBTa50Vfdkf0HmnkhL9NL19Tm1EDBNR21v_BRDkwCPZFxcOmo4Pym3tXMOdVBeX-KjjE2a6bX0BhnH7fWMOFlwuOSJAnZv9bfKLXc1jk/s320/Alex%2527s+favorite.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
We didn't take pictures of our trip down to Madrid or the flight over, but we did take a few of our fabulous stopover at the <i>Casa Lauren&Leon</i> in Seattle.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiERl19hzD-Ccu_G1EfTFLSXup6OzAIoxwLqVwAie92TeUlUiWi7aOglmVqKQY5PWHGuPWsqogP4niln869NEtWY12yZcoOeDCHGTxkobr-hygoqrYrTGyoB4PSXmKnCgzRhHNIidFBDV4/s1600/guest+house+exterior.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiERl19hzD-Ccu_G1EfTFLSXup6OzAIoxwLqVwAie92TeUlUiWi7aOglmVqKQY5PWHGuPWsqogP4niln869NEtWY12yZcoOeDCHGTxkobr-hygoqrYrTGyoB4PSXmKnCgzRhHNIidFBDV4/s320/guest+house+exterior.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnT5OPnNiBu69x7U_A9RohQvX2A89Yds9B_3ArCbyPngOVqRrOKj53aetX4JpTENTzXpdI-6WKZ-FeOa3QjxAUKfCa7nMQx5ORSzdNEOrbTR2hMcMKla_ea26PzPbEGwoWumpm9DcDQUo/s1600/guest+house+interior.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnT5OPnNiBu69x7U_A9RohQvX2A89Yds9B_3ArCbyPngOVqRrOKj53aetX4JpTENTzXpdI-6WKZ-FeOa3QjxAUKfCa7nMQx5ORSzdNEOrbTR2hMcMKla_ea26PzPbEGwoWumpm9DcDQUo/s320/guest+house+interior.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHTpXfGE73RUbTNjRDkvYmfpOM0PEXMF5qoUv7XzWcQluvJz4BQi75gubWoIMhZ59LLNgQfJXLqxNNzUy0gIVdo-ki_h6Bwj1h22FlWeXXqaiGxSKrD1w4N4WS9pLN8Gliu7ZqFEgzVwk/s1600/L+%2526+L%2527s+house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHTpXfGE73RUbTNjRDkvYmfpOM0PEXMF5qoUv7XzWcQluvJz4BQi75gubWoIMhZ59LLNgQfJXLqxNNzUy0gIVdo-ki_h6Bwj1h22FlWeXXqaiGxSKrD1w4N4WS9pLN8Gliu7ZqFEgzVwk/s320/L+%2526+L%2527s+house.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The top one is the cool guest house they built for us (with studio for Julie downstairs and office for Lauren upstairs (which she can only use when we're not visiting, of course)), the middle one is the interior of the upstairs (our home away from home), and the bottom one is their very own cool house where we hang out most of the time we're there. We managed to have a lot of fun in a couple of jet-lagged days with family.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjNN-_TPXT33WZyVRGBD036c4HyIKWiurW5mbsR190-S8fhB-fyslDu0zNBeaZBaVnGGw2h4R9EM42dhwCf9aDlOqMavnKVn9TNCqW4pWyWjZ9lQSnYOyDfkUVXADgRd-p75E3STtO9t0/s1600/Julie+and+Leon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjNN-_TPXT33WZyVRGBD036c4HyIKWiurW5mbsR190-S8fhB-fyslDu0zNBeaZBaVnGGw2h4R9EM42dhwCf9aDlOqMavnKVn9TNCqW4pWyWjZ9lQSnYOyDfkUVXADgRd-p75E3STtO9t0/s320/Julie+and+Leon.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtmi_JVd9e1X_XgIvPS3lnD5W9PoQPx9m4J3BgRIrQ6A-mhsyswhkTJc6KszyhGk1icIMRw4gLNxS59BAwkdgvV5Cu1xY7SoB5OkKs6U7ZJ7Lqo6NIaZwE-HVu02PKlUcbSZhi8PT2-Do/s1600/Quin+and+Annabel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtmi_JVd9e1X_XgIvPS3lnD5W9PoQPx9m4J3BgRIrQ6A-mhsyswhkTJc6KszyhGk1icIMRw4gLNxS59BAwkdgvV5Cu1xY7SoB5OkKs6U7ZJ7Lqo6NIaZwE-HVu02PKlUcbSZhi8PT2-Do/s320/Quin+and+Annabel.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK6I5-6YQR0JFZPRDYI2iNHfdNw9klxsoMi2v-mewAiG7njxOHKkBNrDoqWuLds5ke0RZqDckITV2ftYIE1j5fiESlrv1flfI0Y0o3ty8AM5hlojNOBDtyXK-ki44evek-GN-fAhyJVGA/s1600/relatives+inside.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK6I5-6YQR0JFZPRDYI2iNHfdNw9klxsoMi2v-mewAiG7njxOHKkBNrDoqWuLds5ke0RZqDckITV2ftYIE1j5fiESlrv1flfI0Y0o3ty8AM5hlojNOBDtyXK-ki44evek-GN-fAhyJVGA/s320/relatives+inside.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlQGwVPgOP6yDLxeqm65lM_T1VhfewbT_6OSwC6d8Bu03k4ehseR-1p9N6Dh-hpe9aKGk6TGwY24ph4CR9Fd5tdheWDeiLr7yNTaxfYf_-FaJyXZPpp1yU3FMASER3xXy8j2B8v8p1VVU/s1600/cousin+drawing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlQGwVPgOP6yDLxeqm65lM_T1VhfewbT_6OSwC6d8Bu03k4ehseR-1p9N6Dh-hpe9aKGk6TGwY24ph4CR9Fd5tdheWDeiLr7yNTaxfYf_-FaJyXZPpp1yU3FMASER3xXy8j2B8v8p1VVU/s320/cousin+drawing.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Lauren commissioned the drawing at the bottom at the Seattle Folk Fest at the Center--do you recognize the Seattle and Fairbanks cousins? The drawing managed to bring out the fact of how much they look like each other--either Quin or Chace could be Annabel's brother.<br />
<br />
One highlight of visiting Seattle was seeing the paintings and drawings Julie is doing from her visit to Greece last fall. It was a powerful flashback to our time in Greece, and a beautiful look at things we hadn't exactly seen the first time.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRtSmQOg_9b0giGRhsFcxTsJOcswwUNsi72ARibkS8Dbw_nYGMHvv5PjfFW9KsZ1PrTDnj3FPl9xukCKiBVQaK2CteIZsd5YOgi0oxogY9EhiF2IQMXYZ0IZ71JpFxICwyUAyUO5vWPTI/s1600/Greece+paintings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRtSmQOg_9b0giGRhsFcxTsJOcswwUNsi72ARibkS8Dbw_nYGMHvv5PjfFW9KsZ1PrTDnj3FPl9xukCKiBVQaK2CteIZsd5YOgi0oxogY9EhiF2IQMXYZ0IZ71JpFxICwyUAyUO5vWPTI/s320/Greece+paintings.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
And then it was time to fly back to Fairbanks, and after she had what she described as "the best lunch ever" at the airport in Seattle, Annabel had the supreme pleasure of being surprised by a huge contingent of her friends (not to mention their parents) meeting us at the airport. We didn't get pictures of all of them, but maybe you can get a sense of just how excited Annabel was to be home again.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0q3Qv2Ao1hfGK2Wudol9Do4q_J6DLnZS_zNxjL1HFBw2ngQ7Oky4Bxhu1PtDk61EwARfIjXFtHpx7jxJRBdtDZ7Uesdf2XNhkG58aAUwLKn41oyXKxctGFERNkZ51ZjYuX_xi-gosLOw/s1600/perfect+airport+lunch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0q3Qv2Ao1hfGK2Wudol9Do4q_J6DLnZS_zNxjL1HFBw2ngQ7Oky4Bxhu1PtDk61EwARfIjXFtHpx7jxJRBdtDZ7Uesdf2XNhkG58aAUwLKn41oyXKxctGFERNkZ51ZjYuX_xi-gosLOw/s320/perfect+airport+lunch.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWjie9TO7BuB0WbZsi70pllIi71qodS3dhI-kUwtqCjBFWo4-caPm4itQ8DDBhdG4eIAUDbiSURczBbZMD4Z8jTH5krgC6o_TWKolvCZiOqXoMZotRsxczuXb2ncXPxWPf_EIYF-PFvmU/s1600/airport+greeters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWjie9TO7BuB0WbZsi70pllIi71qodS3dhI-kUwtqCjBFWo4-caPm4itQ8DDBhdG4eIAUDbiSURczBbZMD4Z8jTH5krgC6o_TWKolvCZiOqXoMZotRsxczuXb2ncXPxWPf_EIYF-PFvmU/s320/airport+greeters.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I had to put the airport lunch picture in there because we never responded to faithful readers Jen and Ryan's request for "more pictures of food." Since we only had a half-dozen or so comments on the blog over nine months, it feels churlish not to have granted a simple request in one of those few. <br />
<br />
We were overwhelmed with stuff to get down when we finally got home, but the first was to buy a car to make doing all the others easier. Just because it's such a perfect symbol of American life and the culture that we were returning to, after nine months of walking and taking public transportation, I leave you with a final image of our new SUV. I've already put 800 miles on it. You <i>can</i> go home again, as long as you have a decent set of wheels. Now if we can only get back the garage door opener that our renter accidentally took with him... <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivDMrFCkUvgtYaPn8mqp4ynlg4A6xqOcZ0DG8vQzEduIGmStLAZLLAHXuHzibzFcjV8rxaW5jLZSEVLDPvJYl4ZAVQ1RsDN5T61F5bXgUp2WiwLjRVRKcBZoj0FTQQjRBZcVbaA1PDV3w/s1600/new+Sorrento.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivDMrFCkUvgtYaPn8mqp4ynlg4A6xqOcZ0DG8vQzEduIGmStLAZLLAHXuHzibzFcjV8rxaW5jLZSEVLDPvJYl4ZAVQ1RsDN5T61F5bXgUp2WiwLjRVRKcBZoj0FTQQjRBZcVbaA1PDV3w/s320/new+Sorrento.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
It was a wonderful adventure, and it's great to be back home.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
</div>Eric Heynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13966355802850256623noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3586986478569604901.post-46979860411883126952011-05-24T09:53:00.000-07:002011-05-25T02:50:08.344-07:00A big wee lass in the highlands<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">The first night we were in Scotland Annabel was brought to tears of joy when the barman handed over our beers and said, "Will there be nothing for the wee lassie?" She's kind of got a thing for David Tennant, like the thing I've kind of got for Mike Myers. As for Alex, she's reading a series of Scottish time-travel romances. I think she was actually nervous for a moment when she first stepped into the stone circle at Tomnaverie.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP67-vg7MBIWQ3OSocVsNLjpbzjR1XwT3DBTkhOiTON-BhI1zyT9jQkL0W2wwoMa98y3iEV_oUZXge_7uK7vdBQiEJCtUocvFj_-e4vLWLE_lA3n6VTlBXrJPefl_YSVNqgaitTAAVpGM/s1600/Tomnaverie+stone+circle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP67-vg7MBIWQ3OSocVsNLjpbzjR1XwT3DBTkhOiTON-BhI1zyT9jQkL0W2wwoMa98y3iEV_oUZXge_7uK7vdBQiEJCtUocvFj_-e4vLWLE_lA3n6VTlBXrJPefl_YSVNqgaitTAAVpGM/s320/Tomnaverie+stone+circle.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWfm9v2EzMX723RErZlM8P7Bmi_fiqoKXTnWLQiP-1uCUXB8IKtx44smeu69X_i0upERTuJKii9Gy_ZG8tSs-sBJzPs7DStyMnV3y9n82gg7jXIM3MiF2E96w0hywXnR3YHqQBd3TQs4c/s1600/phone+box.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWfm9v2EzMX723RErZlM8P7Bmi_fiqoKXTnWLQiP-1uCUXB8IKtx44smeu69X_i0upERTuJKii9Gy_ZG8tSs-sBJzPs7DStyMnV3y9n82gg7jXIM3MiF2E96w0hywXnR3YHqQBd3TQs4c/s320/phone+box.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
But Alex did not disappear into a time vortex when she crossed the stone circle (thereby leaving her true love (me) behind), so all was well. Nor did Annabel manage to navigate this phone box to another dimension. We had to content ourselves with a different kind of time travel, the kind in which one visits castles.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjth_N__seblyVeCefCF7RRXO8U0nKcLJSq9oNrR6ph8qQWDenpIDqEsUmlrqlmHs866Ql72Bj0w2DgMthDnlmykC1OSXe-Rkn1jJAlogGapnirUa0NtISYmiwiIGroX-PMMEPrT9ZO_cI/s1600/Corgarff+Castle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjth_N__seblyVeCefCF7RRXO8U0nKcLJSq9oNrR6ph8qQWDenpIDqEsUmlrqlmHs866Ql72Bj0w2DgMthDnlmykC1OSXe-Rkn1jJAlogGapnirUa0NtISYmiwiIGroX-PMMEPrT9ZO_cI/s320/Corgarff+Castle.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirXhGt85p6Ntl9Hv1xl4ChOa7Nz0WzueX5OKU9awfxdeagxYjkBJz94UXo1FPphwc9B0BKBG1aAvTWjIUarjaTMZxQC5OiQ0Et0MqaqMbU6T5FbQZpW9IqklCgO5BdmKIeTD95J8rECWU/s1600/Balmoral+Castle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirXhGt85p6Ntl9Hv1xl4ChOa7Nz0WzueX5OKU9awfxdeagxYjkBJz94UXo1FPphwc9B0BKBG1aAvTWjIUarjaTMZxQC5OiQ0Et0MqaqMbU6T5FbQZpW9IqklCgO5BdmKIeTD95J8rECWU/s320/Balmoral+Castle.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFlVXIUUwIUhD-I2nOanLMsNSaCzc3W_X7JvJt_yz9_5uzYMDHzpF4dAtyn49U2HmsxlCkNAy1hb4RkHJAzTmhVzU_mIptjnwkPosgjit9B86A5-EXa2AGpyzvr2cByuKjHSW85lPMXEI/s1600/Crathes+Castle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFlVXIUUwIUhD-I2nOanLMsNSaCzc3W_X7JvJt_yz9_5uzYMDHzpF4dAtyn49U2HmsxlCkNAy1hb4RkHJAzTmhVzU_mIptjnwkPosgjit9B86A5-EXa2AGpyzvr2cByuKjHSW85lPMXEI/s320/Crathes+Castle.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Just a handful of the many options in Aberdeenshire if one is looking for castles. The only one currently being lived in is the one in the middle, Balmoral, where the Queen (yes, that Queen) spends six weeks every summer. We had the privilege of driving our car onto the grounds because the golf tournament I was playing in (the Royal Deeside Golf Week) in nearby Ballater had wangled the privilege of letting tourney participants play at the extremely private Balmoral Golf club. The twenty-odd of us who took advantage of the opportunity were the only people on the course that day, and I experienced several intensely British moments. I didn't take my camera on the round, but here's a shot over the first tee.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK6nrmQoKBZWdifAOw9tF2A01ErAvYpk9t-o_9oUsigd5p7MBAB_4t5-CZdcMVF4mzF3L5MkejGia1qLGSUyAymUGGO_UCYVuTciA97ygNRVOVZ4Z3TNDcfMTxBviHoCCtiQhUNa32Bzw/s1600/Balmoral+Golf+Club.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK6nrmQoKBZWdifAOw9tF2A01ErAvYpk9t-o_9oUsigd5p7MBAB_4t5-CZdcMVF4mzF3L5MkejGia1qLGSUyAymUGGO_UCYVuTciA97ygNRVOVZ4Z3TNDcfMTxBviHoCCtiQhUNa32Bzw/s320/Balmoral+Golf+Club.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
"Please wash hands after playing"??? I may never wash my hands again. Or maybe I'll just settle for never cleaning my spikes again. The card leads off with a section called "Etiquette":<br />
<br />
* Members should dress smartly.<br />
* There is no golf permitted until 1:00pm on Sundays.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.ballatergolfclub.co.uk/">Ballater Golf Club</a>, where my tournament was held, was not quite as posh, but it was still pretty strait-laced. No spikes, hats, or cell phones in the clubhouse, for instance. I was admonished more than once on the course to restrain my enthusiasm (generally expressed for my playing partners' shots, but once for my own eagle). They take their golf very seriously here. I shot my best round of the week at Balmoral (where it didn't count towards the tournament); back at Ballater I was humbled by a wide assortment of men and women, some of them considerably older than I. <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/62907550@N07/">Here</a> are pictures of everyone on the first morning, teeing up for the Texas Scramble. (My group is about six rows down.) This format allows you to use anyone's drive. Perhaps you'll have a clue to how I was playing that week when I tell you that we used more tee shots by each of these women than by me. I don't understand--doesn't this look like a fine swing?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUagCfEwheuPXXmnfDkRhSlQvexYibwMkSPuJwRbvKfys4UeEn1dGD8N-F2ImyXgFJiwMdhES9NvOM1ea8_2OSJ5Zyp59Juf3sO0-rDfKGYymlRpTY4oDnfAokyG43Yfc_nIr_MelUz9Q/s1600/Eric+at+Ballater.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUagCfEwheuPXXmnfDkRhSlQvexYibwMkSPuJwRbvKfys4UeEn1dGD8N-F2ImyXgFJiwMdhES9NvOM1ea8_2OSJ5Zyp59Juf3sO0-rDfKGYymlRpTY4oDnfAokyG43Yfc_nIr_MelUz9Q/s320/Eric+at+Ballater.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
That link is the only access I have right now to pictures of the man who invited us to this event, Bill Bennett, his son Bill Jr., and his friends Kjel, Theo, and Vangelis from Athens. The best meal we had all week--indeed, the best meal I've had in a long time--was prepared by Chef Bill (Jr.), and the whole Scottish-Greek contingent were wonderful sponsors and supporters of us all week. We'll have more pictures of them, and of Annabel as well, as soon as we get a batch from Theo, the man with the Big Lens.<br />
<br />
When I wasn't busy with my fellow duffers, losing balls in the gorse and the Dee, I joined up with my girls for some motoring about the countryside...on the <i>wrong side of the road</i>. We were pretty worried about that part of the adventure, especially when our car rental company emailed us two days before we left Oviedo to say that they didn't have any automatics available. Neither of us wanted to add shifting with the wrong hand to driving on the wrong side. But when we got to the desk, they had graciously arranged to pass us on to another company who even offered us a slightly better rate for a slightly bigger car. Thus we had plenty of opportunities to admire the bright yellow fields of rapeseed crops, the "hairy coos," the pheasants, and most of all the gamboling wee lambies.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj419BxC_I7JpORegCGsGrVJxdMacm0AOpE9no2KiDMU8_0kKO9-4xaoLPrheJVHSWi90ki4dXpQhbfmDGCFGREa8H5FD_ffxB0X4Y0Vn4mXwevi-x4u-GUy0mnSbaqo71vTZAnBGGhJj8/s1600/sheeps.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj419BxC_I7JpORegCGsGrVJxdMacm0AOpE9no2KiDMU8_0kKO9-4xaoLPrheJVHSWi90ki4dXpQhbfmDGCFGREa8H5FD_ffxB0X4Y0Vn4mXwevi-x4u-GUy0mnSbaqo71vTZAnBGGhJj8/s320/sheeps.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYb4QqLRnL-pgqMXK-j7m8VMSwHi8LeK72ksx5c2N5zmVHIdIfYwJhnO-KeyQ8K7UixOHCR7BqnklelOCxJujmPQFc1fX0OBPsKACyqZHzeM7VElqAfVtZwfunrw7TM6m13TDEl_QmWA8/s1600/little+lambs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYb4QqLRnL-pgqMXK-j7m8VMSwHi8LeK72ksx5c2N5zmVHIdIfYwJhnO-KeyQ8K7UixOHCR7BqnklelOCxJujmPQFc1fX0OBPsKACyqZHzeM7VElqAfVtZwfunrw7TM6m13TDEl_QmWA8/s320/little+lambs.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Sheep everywhere. And not a few bunnies. We learned to recognize some of the more common and striking birds, such as lapwings, oyster catchers, wagtails, and blackbirds. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And when we'd had enough nature and culture tourism for the day, there was always the whiskey. Alex determined to educate herself regarding Scotch whiskey, with an eye to cultivating a regular libation that is not exceedingly girly or dependent on whatever mixers were available. Why not Scotch, since that's my drink of choice anyway? We visited the distillery on the Balmoral estate, Royal Lochnagar, where we missed the formal tour but were entertained by one Gordon Muir (the second of that name to come up on Google, if you're wondering), an extremely loquacious Scotsman who talked about whiskey and the contemporary Scottish poet Norman McCaig, among other things. He recommended another tour, in the direction we were heading on our last day, and that tour at Fettercairn was most satisfying. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrTnLWnl5DXcuTF-cC18cUmJSsLrO6H1Sf9MemhZcI8L01-e9lVoUMIMnEZAtwBLBzPXMkeynH5rJxWdFJwf6aBbDA5n4Wg4FEkmReUZifQvK4BrshhC04rW__eCr-f8ntefQs_wNNMMI/s1600/Royal+Lochnagar+distillery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrTnLWnl5DXcuTF-cC18cUmJSsLrO6H1Sf9MemhZcI8L01-e9lVoUMIMnEZAtwBLBzPXMkeynH5rJxWdFJwf6aBbDA5n4Wg4FEkmReUZifQvK4BrshhC04rW__eCr-f8ntefQs_wNNMMI/s320/Royal+Lochnagar+distillery.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmuohNUkcKYwAkEMjfiHAZgKFpBIzS2oGwZAIIU0zYbd0ptG9sFpHnM6zLHLEIvqjXUcBfp7IHrIzBgO4xEOyAm9dSZEg2qUKbCtgSA5VaLGTi1T9HmRTEnwnJlarnGd0nNImOqjOuyTk/s1600/whiskey+chart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmuohNUkcKYwAkEMjfiHAZgKFpBIzS2oGwZAIIU0zYbd0ptG9sFpHnM6zLHLEIvqjXUcBfp7IHrIzBgO4xEOyAm9dSZEg2qUKbCtgSA5VaLGTi1T9HmRTEnwnJlarnGd0nNImOqjOuyTk/s320/whiskey+chart.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh63maO_jtcMlyhWmW845xGPrIYcLt7TGE0UDyeRcFRLiiGMAghaMI0MGvmdnjqElbKZUu9Df8zzJ186BedWrpAzPcaCtlJSH9IIOMpvahYeWIre8qKX2cNArhKx-BPy8WMspfyfVZjs8/s1600/Fettercairn+barrels.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh63maO_jtcMlyhWmW845xGPrIYcLt7TGE0UDyeRcFRLiiGMAghaMI0MGvmdnjqElbKZUu9Df8zzJ186BedWrpAzPcaCtlJSH9IIOMpvahYeWIre8qKX2cNArhKx-BPy8WMspfyfVZjs8/s320/Fettercairn+barrels.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The chart in the middle is a handy tool for sorting among some of the more widely available whiskeys. Makes a handsome dish towel, don't you think? "Ladies' whiskeys" are in the lower left-hand quadrant.<br />
<br />
Our home base for wide-ranging expeditions in search of castles and distilleries, and the sanctuary to which I returned each day after being mauled on the links, was the Inchgeal Lodge, a fabulous bed and breakfast in Ballater, walking distance from the course, once the home of Queen Victoria's doctor while she was staying at Balmoral. Our hostess was an utter sweetheart, taking on such above-and-beyond tasks as looking up the broadcast time for <i>Dr. Who</i> and doing a load of our laundry.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEONpMCXkrM5aynoDUh6UTOYpsi0ItDaiDCuC-2IKM8FZe_PrfYXRGTrVxUrjs_Ii7EkXB0Ai5ag7Ekned-3IJ9Gd1H7WXjT036MC2VZwjhrXifT0fJRyHF_L_Daet0V8Z-W79QvBWeEg/s1600/Inchgeal+Lodge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEONpMCXkrM5aynoDUh6UTOYpsi0ItDaiDCuC-2IKM8FZe_PrfYXRGTrVxUrjs_Ii7EkXB0Ai5ag7Ekned-3IJ9Gd1H7WXjT036MC2VZwjhrXifT0fJRyHF_L_Daet0V8Z-W79QvBWeEg/s320/Inchgeal+Lodge.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
That's our room on the top right, the best in the house. We were Diane and John's longest-staying guests to date, and everything about our highland home was delightful. Ballater is actually inside the Cairgorms National Park, the largest national park in the U.K., and the landscape ranges from quaint and domestic down in the valleys (especially here on the Deeside) to considerably wilder in the highlands, which were everywhere up there on the horizon.<br />
<br />
Note the blue sky in that picture, and in one or two others. We were amused at the end of the week to be told by several of the golfers, "Well, at least you had good weather." I suppose we had what passes for good weather in Scotland in mid-May, meaning it never actually snowed, although it was freezing cold most of the time, and rarely rained harder than a drizzle, although it did that often. It was impossible to predict exactly what the weather would be doing thirty minutes on, but through all the changes it remained windy and cold. I played a total of four holes of golf in my shirtsleeves over the course of the week, perhaps another thirty-six holes in two layers, and for the rest of the time I was wearing three layers. I don't believe I'd ever in my previous golfing life worn three layers while swinging a club, not even on a chilly August Alaskan day. <br />
<br />
Speaking of Alaska, much of the high country reminded us of home, particularly one sunny day when we took off after golf to investigate the "Spittal of Muick."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnhVoeve7sL3teXpbZYB4D4Iu_NlHyICR7r_zql8oYhCKaTkqoDWYpznS8mBqq12icOWgm0ev7o7FqEO0thMrIIVvhWRF4pmf3whPeLCwBD_THXlRybERixn9kBTlovTLKvmg1MLC750I/s1600/high+above+Glen+Muick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnhVoeve7sL3teXpbZYB4D4Iu_NlHyICR7r_zql8oYhCKaTkqoDWYpznS8mBqq12icOWgm0ev7o7FqEO0thMrIIVvhWRF4pmf3whPeLCwBD_THXlRybERixn9kBTlovTLKvmg1MLC750I/s320/high+above+Glen+Muick.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhuJgkECF3RHudWOl-FBpIFimaoNoeZBGdk1uU-W0Bxx64Hx1TlJfX3ac67O2mmkBTVeIFjHJDbcK-z5NU1seWmeDOegunX-Pk2wviUq4YM7YsbjGgdQjc-oSvu9fVPePBcKIK4BtHyJg/s1600/Alex+returns+from+the+loch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhuJgkECF3RHudWOl-FBpIFimaoNoeZBGdk1uU-W0Bxx64Hx1TlJfX3ac67O2mmkBTVeIFjHJDbcK-z5NU1seWmeDOegunX-Pk2wviUq4YM7YsbjGgdQjc-oSvu9fVPePBcKIK4BtHyJg/s320/Alex+returns+from+the+loch.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Annabel chose the high road and Alex the low road. I followed Annabel, of course, since given a choice I always go up, and my daughter seems to have taken after me in that respect. Alex took the smooth path down to the loch and filled her bottle with the cold water. Annabel and I scrambled about in the heather. We don't have pictures from the longest excursion the two of them did without me, to Loch Ness. But I imagine the country around there looks not unlike these pictures of the loch at Glen Muick.<br />
<br />
The rain held off for most of our last day (the only completely golf-free day), which we spent on a loop over the mountains to the east coast and back. Just driving through the country was an adventure we never tired of all week, and the fact that everyone spoke English, sort of, was a bonus. For instance, the signs.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLRsElIJ7hCvDyGODuig5yb88Yb-OkxMR7FtJnnxZETrBYv19odTxYJqWDtztbP5R6LCo0_L5gnhJlX7iDbMwhbkuT8HngpxCcxNw-oNyLUBpHqc35Fu6aOs41BpTyiTyNMuNPlE2YXM8/s1600/toads+on+road.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLRsElIJ7hCvDyGODuig5yb88Yb-OkxMR7FtJnnxZETrBYv19odTxYJqWDtztbP5R6LCo0_L5gnhJlX7iDbMwhbkuT8HngpxCcxNw-oNyLUBpHqc35Fu6aOs41BpTyiTyNMuNPlE2YXM8/s320/toads+on+road.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQp8Jwv-xP0LrFEsMH4y-kl2qM8fONGuE42Li4LRXWBRUPrVcdfSWc6aoZVsh2y2kwfr3QFswNfogUT3Gu_BhXWYgthJ8FS_N-PbaIsX1sgmSrCONbeCfeREEy8uUsZ5cHDMI2Tfc-oW4/s1600/Stonehaven+Press+and+Journal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQp8Jwv-xP0LrFEsMH4y-kl2qM8fONGuE42Li4LRXWBRUPrVcdfSWc6aoZVsh2y2kwfr3QFswNfogUT3Gu_BhXWYgthJ8FS_N-PbaIsX1sgmSrCONbeCfeREEy8uUsZ5cHDMI2Tfc-oW4/s320/Stonehaven+Press+and+Journal.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvrkfXam0uju38XUnEUucv0iSh4g8wD-dUMuZJM_uVr5D22ohKMzmIIXtiTCqQ9jOi3VbL9Sqm5VRb_ZggOWJS2PF5GvEMvBU46TM8ccb73-CLAiHreEb-7r-Dg3qNeb0QeE9X33Ksj60/s1600/impressive+ruined+fortress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvrkfXam0uju38XUnEUucv0iSh4g8wD-dUMuZJM_uVr5D22ohKMzmIIXtiTCqQ9jOi3VbL9Sqm5VRb_ZggOWJS2PF5GvEMvBU46TM8ccb73-CLAiHreEb-7r-Dg3qNeb0QeE9X33Ksj60/s320/impressive+ruined+fortress.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The top one is at the St. Cyrus Nature Preserve on the coast; unfortunately we didn't actually see any toads. The middle one is in Stonehaven, a beautiful town a bit to the north; how can you argue with the slogan "...because every day is different"? The bottom one was not lying or exaggerating in the least; Dunnottar was indeed impressive, ruined, and a fortress. We'd saved the best castle for last, as it turned out.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqHgZaGMUN-t37yCU-RdBxxX5k2f56veOwIlye59qrs109KXMHkIqoP5Ogf5SUScOO2OdFYuLfrlTQAW8jeIFFiL3oRBNrCY6kSNtixbrf4wEQL85sgM-xrcybfj-K9BaBckF3mfdOGbc/s1600/Dunnottar+Castle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqHgZaGMUN-t37yCU-RdBxxX5k2f56veOwIlye59qrs109KXMHkIqoP5Ogf5SUScOO2OdFYuLfrlTQAW8jeIFFiL3oRBNrCY6kSNtixbrf4wEQL85sgM-xrcybfj-K9BaBckF3mfdOGbc/s320/Dunnottar+Castle.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9AtuAayxduSPm3bdHjjybf9c4YVE-C4mKbnS8gZz6mgHtF1fInU_bjPj-1GY_AbF88dBKrD36PQu62_9pn1d5Uup33Dsn_X3qc3lKmjDMJsxP52f-G_SoqPG3Bcv2-P-iHGwXs_Lptpo/s1600/nooks+and+crannies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9AtuAayxduSPm3bdHjjybf9c4YVE-C4mKbnS8gZz6mgHtF1fInU_bjPj-1GY_AbF88dBKrD36PQu62_9pn1d5Uup33Dsn_X3qc3lKmjDMJsxP52f-G_SoqPG3Bcv2-P-iHGwXs_Lptpo/s320/nooks+and+crannies.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinXdt0-X3HWM5sf4ZOv38BJNaewoPFPidq64E_5qrrfTPcKBfu8tTPiTE6c6r4HSRPnSPYcIxv0i4z4tiM2qUo_EaoFUrxHxg4wAPED4s8lFj6jPR1LD6hzSOos9zG73KKC9eG3OFUAuk/s1600/view+from+Dunnottar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinXdt0-X3HWM5sf4ZOv38BJNaewoPFPidq64E_5qrrfTPcKBfu8tTPiTE6c6r4HSRPnSPYcIxv0i4z4tiM2qUo_EaoFUrxHxg4wAPED4s8lFj6jPR1LD6hzSOos9zG73KKC9eG3OFUAuk/s320/view+from+Dunnottar.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Isolated on its rock, it held out against Cromwell and preserved the Scottish Crown Jewels. It's a warren of wonderful walls and windows looking down sheer cliffs. It also has my new favorite men's room in all the world.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8giPjOaX1esyt5ohaZle2CHQ3EXhdRuSuzjWP6ZsLjur0Tli53gx4ekvei6fy-rbB6HIxcJDEWWjz3A2aVnPryFJNFCb4btyDgVZRpBgg1xRzemSZpL9KEDdPMZR272y42OsFlOmQtLc/s1600/favorite+men%2527s+room.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8giPjOaX1esyt5ohaZle2CHQ3EXhdRuSuzjWP6ZsLjur0Tli53gx4ekvei6fy-rbB6HIxcJDEWWjz3A2aVnPryFJNFCb4btyDgVZRpBgg1xRzemSZpL9KEDdPMZR272y42OsFlOmQtLc/s320/favorite+men%2527s+room.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
A truly world-class "Gents W.C." must have a whiff of danger. This one perches on a corner of the rock, such that I couldn't even get around the back to take a picture of how close it is to the edge. Surprisingly to me, this place is privately owned, but at five pounds it was the best deal of the whole trip.<br />
<br />
We could have spent a lot more time there, but as you can perhaps tell, the weather was deteriorating. Annabel had gotten a little beach time earlier, at St. Cyrus, as you can see below, and we also beach-combed a bit in Stonehaven. But my most vivid memory of the Scottish coast will be the gulls and murres in the water and on the sheer rock walls surrounding Dunnottar Castle.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEVWdCnNZIIQz7fknwo0MVfbvMfiM3ZHVjoEdfHc8IBdoO7J8LD7xiXCQKBOiS2Ox-fHs_NZ9rwgq-kgp_Y6YywTjbLzWwHyMCmoaoJkMDlsxErjew1VjDwKZMiIIwpK2nSMHhUiolQFE/s1600/Annabel+on+the+beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEVWdCnNZIIQz7fknwo0MVfbvMfiM3ZHVjoEdfHc8IBdoO7J8LD7xiXCQKBOiS2Ox-fHs_NZ9rwgq-kgp_Y6YywTjbLzWwHyMCmoaoJkMDlsxErjew1VjDwKZMiIIwpK2nSMHhUiolQFE/s320/Annabel+on+the+beach.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
All flights went smoothly, once we made it through the thunderstorm at takeoff in Oviedo, although changing terminals between flights at De Gaulle was interesting once again. On the way there we landed from Oviedo, took the winding shuttle bus from 2G to 2E, found our gate, checked in, boarded another shuttle bus, and rode that bus back over the winding route to 2G where we boarded our plane to Aberdeen just a couple hundred feet from the plane we'd landed on. On the way back we had a <i>very</i> long hike through 2E and out of security to yet a different shuttle bus, and then back through security again to the by-now familiar lounge in 2G where we awaited word of our gate. At least we didn't have to send anyone on ahead to hold the plane for us, as Julie had in De Gaulle on our return from Athens.<br />
<br />
And now we're in pack-up mode for the return to Fairbanks. We've calculated that by the time we get back to Fairbanks, we will have taken twenty-two separate flights since we left home on Sept. 1. We're ready to stay put for a while. Goodbye to Scotland, and soon goodbye to Europe.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9x1t5Y-5pC7w_QH_hmXuuA-7-w_O1O5aSWHkKJL-bnHxZrmp8dHmVaptdtB-8AyNzqq3ej5yXIyBXHZRUpObwyZiBC3xWB7xVU3xrE6AwGrXmoPPPWnOKXEvhnBei4pVaO7tdl3kDMxs/s1600/queen+and+princess.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9x1t5Y-5pC7w_QH_hmXuuA-7-w_O1O5aSWHkKJL-bnHxZrmp8dHmVaptdtB-8AyNzqq3ej5yXIyBXHZRUpObwyZiBC3xWB7xVU3xrE6AwGrXmoPPPWnOKXEvhnBei4pVaO7tdl3kDMxs/s320/queen+and+princess.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div>Eric Heynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13966355802850256623noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3586986478569604901.post-20145948211160310002011-05-11T08:16:00.000-07:002011-05-11T08:16:09.191-07:00Ends and somewhat odds<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Off to Scotland day after tomorrow, then back here with just a few days to pack it all up. An odd kind of limbo we're living in, not unproductive as Alex and I are both getting good work done on our research, but still a kind of frozen moment, suspended between our year's adventure in Europe and the long trip home. What to do in the meantime? Why not haul a few pictures out of the vault?<br />
<br />
We had a fun afternoon a couple of weeks ago with our friend Helio, father of Annabel's friends and schoolmates Roma and Flavia. He drove the three of us out to Cabo de Peñas, the northernmost point of the Spanish coast, directly north of Oviedo, to show us his old stomping grounds, including the big nature preserve that encompasses the cape itself, the village he grew up in just alongside the cape, and the two largest towns in the area, Luanco (where he and his girls live by the beach in the summer) and Candás. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhokqBQu5vKMZK22zLPme47VGBS6xeynfOhzXDcCQm0wXlyszrScrmNgYTTWqQuJ-vre7MkqJuQCf0IrFVKAwoWoOIQg0ucJLIhLTOuaXdgBXkf22aiwboKsA4qkd6xWCoH7_fEKyMldDg/s1600/Helio+and+lighthouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhokqBQu5vKMZK22zLPme47VGBS6xeynfOhzXDcCQm0wXlyszrScrmNgYTTWqQuJ-vre7MkqJuQCf0IrFVKAwoWoOIQg0ucJLIhLTOuaXdgBXkf22aiwboKsA4qkd6xWCoH7_fEKyMldDg/s320/Helio+and+lighthouse.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCxcChHKUG73Z2Itxq9BxLLfkooxYmCqfW4mysW3p_hW56t6vesgIjo_Ey36wE3u2ro6rMhulEsRw8hExh5lyYsODFZAuuZlYJrjGNJCI2_Ugur4TP0-tMFJ4e4GpzK38i4OXx4xaXe48/s1600/blowing+at+Cabo+de+Penas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCxcChHKUG73Z2Itxq9BxLLfkooxYmCqfW4mysW3p_hW56t6vesgIjo_Ey36wE3u2ro6rMhulEsRw8hExh5lyYsODFZAuuZlYJrjGNJCI2_Ugur4TP0-tMFJ4e4GpzK38i4OXx4xaXe48/s320/blowing+at+Cabo+de+Penas.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
These shots are out on the point itself. Some of you may recognize that strip of blue blowing out from Annabel's head. Yes, the blue hair she had glued on at the Tanana Valley Fair last August is <i>still</i>, incredibly, hanging in there.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh7r8b_2MBrREozH2042Uptg35pMrI_NUeFvSJXfAYEy_v5fhu3j4ImSZ5AxqdN4tMkEAyi5ze-7rRVhKWbkCOH3tPGMjJEtbN3zYFFRpN01qgpEFrusbb0RrHNv-IaajjtWmXEg4aZpA/s1600/Luanco+beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh7r8b_2MBrREozH2042Uptg35pMrI_NUeFvSJXfAYEy_v5fhu3j4ImSZ5AxqdN4tMkEAyi5ze-7rRVhKWbkCOH3tPGMjJEtbN3zYFFRpN01qgpEFrusbb0RrHNv-IaajjtWmXEg4aZpA/s320/Luanco+beach.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhUSC3ZoAe1vHYUTGVjDaXzO6DyLP6OyfZ0vc7ZyWH5mBlj6E-K3Z5cuLYs74koAtmhVuLwol1Qf-CQDSoc9M3HxSR5gMPmnBAx6k0bh8hMk8A7KKmRwqKtu-zKTVkUoM6bqu1CTTjdQw/s1600/big+anchor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhUSC3ZoAe1vHYUTGVjDaXzO6DyLP6OyfZ0vc7ZyWH5mBlj6E-K3Z5cuLYs74koAtmhVuLwol1Qf-CQDSoc9M3HxSR5gMPmnBAx6k0bh8hMk8A7KKmRwqKtu-zKTVkUoM6bqu1CTTjdQw/s320/big+anchor.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Q3SJaLTFCZBLS_1fWbEWvTiRIRFyPXtlKqRd78gwFOQHbOp41NA-VOj6PuNKwK42U3yx7TNYs8_zpuBQ0G5exjXdvM2bHpCE0jjd-hx-lJmR-GdncW3jb3qX8_zzfDnVZnU4MyIyW94/s1600/early+fisherman%253F.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Q3SJaLTFCZBLS_1fWbEWvTiRIRFyPXtlKqRd78gwFOQHbOp41NA-VOj6PuNKwK42U3yx7TNYs8_zpuBQ0G5exjXdvM2bHpCE0jjd-hx-lJmR-GdncW3jb3qX8_zzfDnVZnU4MyIyW94/s320/early+fisherman%253F.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7_SBg5rq9vqUd06x4tS8FMbrfpZ3U6wDL1xSUGfJAB54hIiZJbkfgq_LKZtdcfj4e9SlbiMJv49vJ4CJMpQThtsdFeabNCI9iDCrzktoOwC8qpSKQr2GPDd3lPXkb1AjtEFa26cZo8Tw/s1600/house+colors+Candas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7_SBg5rq9vqUd06x4tS8FMbrfpZ3U6wDL1xSUGfJAB54hIiZJbkfgq_LKZtdcfj4e9SlbiMJv49vJ4CJMpQThtsdFeabNCI9iDCrzktoOwC8qpSKQr2GPDd3lPXkb1AjtEFa26cZo8Tw/s320/house+colors+Candas.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The first one above is the beach in Luanco where Roma and Flavia will be hanging out once school ends in June. The next three are in Candás, a town that has clearly used its public art opportunities to assert its traditional connection with the sea. Annabel was impressed by the large anchor. I as impressed by the odd statue, which kind of reminds me of an overweight Gollum, naked with a fish in one hand. I can't figure out exactly what it's saying about the locals. Something I neglected to mention in the last blog that I'm going to miss is the architecture in Asturias, the colors and shapes of the beautiful buildings. I gather that both of these coastal towns are going through hard times, but they're certainly preserving their civic spirit, Candás somewhat more vividly than Luanco.<br />
<br />
What else besides that fun outing? I never did get pictures of the penitentes in León--there are still some on Annabel's camera, I think--but here's a shot of some Easter candy in the KKK-shape of the folks in the procession. Followed by another of some more traditional American Easter candy (giant chocolate chicken) and my personal favorite, a gummy <i>pulpo</i>.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVKsBYlsPEW6MjV72s2Bq-VWTMNkmQyiw-seHqE1zWOOlSuh60pH78YgVvExv_aFrnSJ24_LgifSM3x5MQ3NGFsuWXcUdnhQX1BboxKiSZuyyYzVjvfbesBl9NoGgeFWsBhZ4nXJ7pyOg/s1600/penitente+candy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVKsBYlsPEW6MjV72s2Bq-VWTMNkmQyiw-seHqE1zWOOlSuh60pH78YgVvExv_aFrnSJ24_LgifSM3x5MQ3NGFsuWXcUdnhQX1BboxKiSZuyyYzVjvfbesBl9NoGgeFWsBhZ4nXJ7pyOg/s320/penitente+candy.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPrZXrssBDwIHPOD-Ih1CLl24ErTDltewb7HV2b2dclpE_RL50iQAGQfmPM0TIpvVBRm-gIwL0HQAeo3tb72faP3DFb4aUNOhdDfrVeX5Mx6oJq05DREXQszWNQWYg7z0gX9x7-2XY4RQ/s1600/Easter+candy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPrZXrssBDwIHPOD-Ih1CLl24ErTDltewb7HV2b2dclpE_RL50iQAGQfmPM0TIpvVBRm-gIwL0HQAeo3tb72faP3DFb4aUNOhdDfrVeX5Mx6oJq05DREXQszWNQWYg7z0gX9x7-2XY4RQ/s320/Easter+candy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Did you ever get to see any pictures from Annabel's science assignment, the parachute designed to preserve an egg uncracked from our third-story window? She took pictures of all the prototypes, starting with a handkerchief, progressing to a cut-up shopping bag, and ending with a cut-up garbage back from which was suspended a rubber swim cap and an egg padded with paper towels. It did finally work, and below is a picture of the successful model. Annabel did the tests with chocolate eggs to help solace her for failures.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPxovyTmucSmuIIllQl5S-b_E4WXrpQ0B3IFW9a3wOcHFoKupRQVlltXu3VcEoqBr7Sc6NSwAp-6GNCBdy09ktpAYtJEgn_gR0Aea7-3gV6QrWnR2IaLACPWVCh1VX7Esm-gmH11H9zXY/s1600/parachute+%25234.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPxovyTmucSmuIIllQl5S-b_E4WXrpQ0B3IFW9a3wOcHFoKupRQVlltXu3VcEoqBr7Sc6NSwAp-6GNCBdy09ktpAYtJEgn_gR0Aea7-3gV6QrWnR2IaLACPWVCh1VX7Esm-gmH11H9zXY/s320/parachute+%25234.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY96JzUo2MAsisMlnVY9BPYm1wItimYghNjFVMxf6_FFEuMewB52nK4sbI5iw4nGLbRKSDqlq7F7No8ZJ9JKnp5Tna4v1cLRkJ6c-QCbwCMIZONl7TuIBDf09vz7t31DjraWbOl-_9EW0/s1600/river+bug+stuff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY96JzUo2MAsisMlnVY9BPYm1wItimYghNjFVMxf6_FFEuMewB52nK4sbI5iw4nGLbRKSDqlq7F7No8ZJ9JKnp5Tna4v1cLRkJ6c-QCbwCMIZONl7TuIBDf09vz7t31DjraWbOl-_9EW0/s320/river+bug+stuff.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
When I posted on the nice walk we took a couple of weeks ago, I neglected to include this fine shot of bug stuff. Tiny rock homes, once underwater, and this carapace of something insectoidal that graduated to bigger and better things. Almost but not quite the dragonfly larval exoskeletons Annabel likes to find in Fairbanks. Like I've said before, it's not really a post without a bug shot.<br />
<br />
Another thing I should have mentioned in the blog about what I'll miss: performing goats outside our window. Or rather, "performing" goats, since as far as I could tell this goat was simply being its normal goatlike self while on the end of a leash. The accompanying music was quite loud, luckily, since otherwise I might have missed the show (and not gotten these pictures for you).<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGEgCibveQ9hO4SD4Vb34f-OkLgQsO2JmfslZTZTLSlaAz6rwBk_gM_5FGjTlsU9S1W5IhZjQtfuNMeCMf5zx4qojHp88xUxcGKN1t_1dwMkmVQUvsbtwl26HQI2zkKmZV3dZa__NeG90/s1600/goat+performers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGEgCibveQ9hO4SD4Vb34f-OkLgQsO2JmfslZTZTLSlaAz6rwBk_gM_5FGjTlsU9S1W5IhZjQtfuNMeCMf5zx4qojHp88xUxcGKN1t_1dwMkmVQUvsbtwl26HQI2zkKmZV3dZa__NeG90/s320/goat+performers.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWyCDIhAz4tHoOL6O7TjOllgDwT_Gr6NZ823yBtrhm_wUKQnS0piu8F-pg5aUFW4xGqh7evi7r1Xp_1xQD5dGutlwpsHvA2fuiqP1ZnRZzWuWosUMwXraTdnYsimylGnP9Daq2DNa9CFw/s1600/performing+goat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWyCDIhAz4tHoOL6O7TjOllgDwT_Gr6NZ823yBtrhm_wUKQnS0piu8F-pg5aUFW4xGqh7evi7r1Xp_1xQD5dGutlwpsHvA2fuiqP1ZnRZzWuWosUMwXraTdnYsimylGnP9Daq2DNa9CFw/s320/performing+goat.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Time to go meet Annabel's bus for the second-last time. I'll leave you with a picture of all but one of Alex's students, mugging it up with my girls on the last dinner we made for them, and a shot of Annabel and Woody, a teaser for a future post with even more fabulous local sculpture. Hasta luego.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0AhZhlDsuAcc9DkCL3FZd1VipZYvG6D2TWTdUqO8tNDT_6L4p9cJEUGKuOvq-apN0BAHz4B7gC9aHPbktiRgns6n8QrMnwHPpOPM9ETtLKsdW6sTVDpmrMIQBwgPvl97Rgj2qVhalfcY/s1600/goofy+student+faces.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0AhZhlDsuAcc9DkCL3FZd1VipZYvG6D2TWTdUqO8tNDT_6L4p9cJEUGKuOvq-apN0BAHz4B7gC9aHPbktiRgns6n8QrMnwHPpOPM9ETtLKsdW6sTVDpmrMIQBwgPvl97Rgj2qVhalfcY/s320/goofy+student+faces.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO5ecRfuy7Ha61sPkiSzA4WNKXJH_z3VgJOs-Ap-gn8gp2BJUjCeisfRjpCeVaisH-VRaphMMg8ByumJTLaw7MitBbp0f_DPwzhX4ZUCX2CLZkO3JFa-FCKOtu6sWXN64ux3cB6HdJRe4/s1600/Annabel+and+Woody.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO5ecRfuy7Ha61sPkiSzA4WNKXJH_z3VgJOs-Ap-gn8gp2BJUjCeisfRjpCeVaisH-VRaphMMg8ByumJTLaw7MitBbp0f_DPwzhX4ZUCX2CLZkO3JFa-FCKOtu6sWXN64ux3cB6HdJRe4/s320/Annabel+and+Woody.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
</div>Eric Heynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13966355802850256623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3586986478569604901.post-27607902754838207672011-05-02T02:07:00.000-07:002011-05-02T02:07:50.067-07:00What I'll miss...and what I won't<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">It's May and we have less than a month left in Europe. It's hard not to be thinking ahead. We're doing our best to stay in the moment, doing stuff we've been meaning to (this weekend we finally saw the fabulous new archeological museum and made our pilgrimage to the Oviedo cathedral museum), and looking forward to the upcoming week in Scotland. But nostalgia is a powerful thing, and sometimes won't even wait until the appropriate moment. I think someone has defined "kitsch" as pre-emptive nostalgia, and in that vein I present a very kitschy post. You can join me in your choice of an appropriate soundtrack, which for me is the album <i><a href="http://www.paulsimon.com/music/paul-simon/duncan">Paul Simon</a></i> that Alex just downloaded for me. Sweet, self-indulgent nostalgia.<br />
<br />
I'm going to miss being just a bus ride from the sea. More often a tram ride in Athens, but always just right over there any time I wanted to see it. There are few things in life I enjoy more than beach-combing, but maybe one of them is watching Annabel frolic in the ocean. Of course, the ocean is only six hours or so from Fairbanks, but not a lot of frolicking or beach-combing in the freezing, silt-coated waters of upper Valdez Sound or upper Cook Inlet.<br />
<br />
I'm going to miss being able to walk everywhere, stop in anywhere, eat at a different restaurant anytime we want (although the food is likely to look very familiar). The eating and the walking go together, of course, because if I wasn't doing as much walking as I am, I would be enormously larger from doing the amount of eating I am. I think my sister Lauren and her husband were a little horrified at how much Alex and I ate at our meals together in Spain. And we still didn't manage to clean our plates very often. Don't want to insult anybody's food, right? And it all sounds so good on the menu, and is relatively cheap, compared to Fairbanks prices, if you don't actually pay attention to the exchange rate--how can you <i>not</i> order too much and then eat too much? It'll be interesting to see how our eating patterns settle out back home.<br />
<br />
I'm not going to miss tiny bathrooms. In the last eight months I've discovered an amazing variety of ways to cramp one's style in the bathroom. The hotel we stayed at in St. Jean de Luz with Lauren's family required a Pilates-style swing of the knees to sit down. On the other hand, what am I going to do without ready access to a bidet? Suffer through, I suppose. We have two bathrooms in our apartment in Oviedo, both tiny, and I wish I could trade them both (and throw in the bidet) for one bigger one. On the plus side, it's important to be able to stand close to the mirror considering how dark all these bathrooms have been.<br />
<br />
I'm going to miss all those museums that Annabel has suffered through, especially the natural history museums. There's something about all that old stuff that takes me away, seizes my imagination like a good science fiction novel. Despite the suffering, Annabel still includes "archeologist" on her list of desirable future occupations, and asked us yesterday if Alaska had any archeological digs. We assured her that it did. We've got a pretty darn good museum in Fairbanks, but I'll miss Bronze Age implements, cave paintings, medieval icons, not to mention some of those painters they have in the Prado and Louvre that the Museum of the North hasn't managed to acquire. It's fun to visit a little art museum like the one in Oviedo and see the odd Picasso or Dali among all the lesser-known artistic luminaries of Asturias.<br />
<br />
I'm going to miss good cheap wine. Need I say more?<br />
<br />
I'm going to miss mild, humid weather. Yes I am. We may be looking at a solid week of rain in the forecast today, but we know it'll be changeable, blue skies (like now) alternating with gray (like an hour ago), weather I remember fondly from my college days in Seattle (more nostalgia). Of course, the humidity was a little daunting in that tiny bathroom in the center of our apartment in Athens, and the rain four out of every five Sundays since we've been in Oviedo has weighed on us. And we'll be getting back to Fairbanks at the perfect moment in the seasonal cycle, first of June, ready for some clear blue skies and twenty hours of sun. But come the cold and the dry, me and my skin will be hankering back to the air in Athens (Grecian Formula H2O) and Oviedo (on the Costa Verde).<br />
<br />
I'm going to miss all the generous people that have adopted us in Greece and Spain, taken us in, shown us around, spoken slowly and clearly for my sake, given us a glimpse of their lives and of real life in these places. It would have been a colder and darker year indeed without the open arms of Rosemary, Michael, Jorge and Merche, Helio, Carmen, and everyone else who has been kind to these American strangers.<br />
<br />
I'm going to miss all the time with Alex and Annabel, our sense of being three adventurers together, the in-jokes and tag-lines, references to particular people and places and poor translations and generous gestures. It's not like we won't see a lot of each other in Fairbanks. Or that we haven't gotten on each other's nerves now and again (and maybe again) over the last eight months. But this whole adventure has been a lot more powerful because I've had two smart, funny, observant people to share it with. <br />
<br />
And we've still got three weeks in Oviedo, a week in Scotland, a couple of days in Seattle, and the adventure of the return trip itself--it's entirely too soon to be wrapping things up. Let's get outside while the sun is still shining and enjoy this May Day holiday. Be seeing some of you soon. But not just yet.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>Eric Heynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13966355802850256623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3586986478569604901.post-56415960282620928162011-04-26T09:30:00.000-07:002011-04-26T09:30:16.787-07:00to France and back again, coasting<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">We decided that the best way to celebrate Quin becoming a man (or at least a teenager) was to let him spend his birthday in France, where he could speak the language he loves (after nearly 9 months of study). So we rented another car and set off to caravan through Asturias, Cantabria, and the Basque Country. Our first stop, just an hour out of Oviedo, was in Ribadesella, which was featured in an earlier post, this time to visit a cave with neolithic paintings. Unfortunately, Eric failed to see that reservations were required, despite scanning the website carefully (or so he thought), and there were no spots available. It's <a href="https://sede.asturias.es/portal/site/Asturias/menuitem.fe57bf7c5fd38046e44f5310bb30a0a0/?vgnextoid=dc83ba243e60b110VgnVCM10000097030a0aRCRD&vgnextchannel=fc86993ad492f010VgnVCM100000b0030a0aRCRD&i18n.http.lang=en">neolithic cave central</a> here in northern Spain, however, and my boo boo was not fatal. The EXTREMELY nice people at the Tito Bustillo ticket desk called over to another cave, El Pindal, on the eastern border of Asturias, and got us reservations for later that day. I first asked about another cave that we'd visited some years ago, Puente Viesgo, but they said "That's in <i>Cantabria</i>," like it was the other side of the earth, and so we were happy to have them find us slots in a cave a literal stone's throw this side of Cantabria. After a quick coffee-and-nosh in the bustling town of Llanes, we headed down the coast to El Pindal, which turned out to be in a beautiful setting high above the sea. A very unprepossessing exterior, and unfortunately pictures aren't allowed inside (see the link above for some of the art), but maybe you can get a sense of the gorgeous location.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix2ZnNc_rf5p9iR9w2eFuH1RUl7tNSyPUIYacJYCuRro2vpUXY0XETCOv4CysF3IBHTxJBcG056dTptlyw5cd_8MRO9mlkjHJRjNAGMUl7D7fpf-3OKFHoLwhit-2BYLx5lXn5ufHQnr8/s1600/Pindal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix2ZnNc_rf5p9iR9w2eFuH1RUl7tNSyPUIYacJYCuRro2vpUXY0XETCOv4CysF3IBHTxJBcG056dTptlyw5cd_8MRO9mlkjHJRjNAGMUl7D7fpf-3OKFHoLwhit-2BYLx5lXn5ufHQnr8/s320/Pindal.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkQron_pMQk5z-ppwxdQ6YSHzSTuASMZV0Dce96BgkiXwvMS48usSfpvQZQe0mayGp7vaKJFMxJ7AF20YOF-MQzb8X4oDHh88X_HLZ7-sr8VlAKxsO3Si-GUwl9F3adQGrLgiFCSbrxM8/s1600/view+from+Pindal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkQron_pMQk5z-ppwxdQ6YSHzSTuASMZV0Dce96BgkiXwvMS48usSfpvQZQe0mayGp7vaKJFMxJ7AF20YOF-MQzb8X4oDHh88X_HLZ7-sr8VlAKxsO3Si-GUwl9F3adQGrLgiFCSbrxM8/s320/view+from+Pindal.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
We planned to stop often on the trip to let the kids let off steam. Here you can see how well they got along. At least Annabel is smiling while slugging her cousin. (They're actually having a lot of fun here, and the roughhousing never got ugly the entire trip.)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh82VhljJC9_zCxCvkvt13Sg-ftuTnu6YeEHcMSWIiocQRF9ggw7gAMzwbx8-sYRL5delMGIJ1zrb915nM-DgBIrrMwq9FrtTiwMLgLeJI-h5QVZzjNDkxVXEZr9dNPoPqXOyfbgcPXqxk/s1600/put+up+your+dukes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh82VhljJC9_zCxCvkvt13Sg-ftuTnu6YeEHcMSWIiocQRF9ggw7gAMzwbx8-sYRL5delMGIJ1zrb915nM-DgBIrrMwq9FrtTiwMLgLeJI-h5QVZzjNDkxVXEZr9dNPoPqXOyfbgcPXqxk/s320/put+up+your+dukes.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhRb8T7ecOqhGIq_Xa7_rnQZmFNklzWj8KpQ5LIasUIaHigBu27NfwrujM97zLapJjMQY2m6HALtLJ5CeSphVSD_-YQ3_Utm7kBsEoUNtDoyOLcRfzQZshsw_Kd1Q_e9gp2pRuUHN8I-A/s1600/posing+on+mammoth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhRb8T7ecOqhGIq_Xa7_rnQZmFNklzWj8KpQ5LIasUIaHigBu27NfwrujM97zLapJjMQY2m6HALtLJ5CeSphVSD_-YQ3_Utm7kBsEoUNtDoyOLcRfzQZshsw_Kd1Q_e9gp2pRuUHN8I-A/s320/posing+on+mammoth.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
This mammoth sculpture is based on one of the drawings in the cave. We couldn't resist the opportunity to continue our photo-series of posing-in-signs. Unfortunately, the photographer's skills seem to be deteriorating with each new sign. There was also a hermitage and a ruined monastery nearby, and a network of trails.<br />
<br />
Our next stop was lunch, and we decided to revisit our old stomping grounds in Cantabria. We ate at one of the many seafood places on the water in San Vincente de la Barquera, which some faithful readers may recall visiting in 2001. After lunch we wandered up to the church, because the castle was locked up, and it turned out to be beautiful up there, high above the castle and the large winding bay, the highest point in the town, and I was amazed that we'd not visited it ten years ago. I didn't take my camera up there, but even if I had I wouldn't have been able to take pictures (inside the church) of the pilgrims on the altarpieces that looked exactly like pirates, or the relic shards of bone from St. Vicente. I did take before-and-after pictures of the bay, looking toward the Roman bridge. Before and after the tide came in, that is. These pictures also give a pretty good sense of the range of weather we had, shifting quickly from mostly sunny to mostly cloudy and back again.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9LdENbHts3FRmaiyfjOw_HYyYIa00YFFlNGO-BO8jojqAuXoEfTOc5AhJ34NSNPLFvQg4LLm363oe6kSGFZlQJuMLNv0Z9CpSl2NphdR6C6WoI5oreTvRzazbuxeavj11zhGA2OVoLOM/s1600/no+water.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9LdENbHts3FRmaiyfjOw_HYyYIa00YFFlNGO-BO8jojqAuXoEfTOc5AhJ34NSNPLFvQg4LLm363oe6kSGFZlQJuMLNv0Z9CpSl2NphdR6C6WoI5oreTvRzazbuxeavj11zhGA2OVoLOM/s320/no+water.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3ggLYxzriyG7-JoiDDvLF1TYdQXL-LxA1fJE9jdzaO_2rzRIPlTYGwfh-Qk6vFIcAiu8GpVRtRaKrt6UA5lz-aY5ubgG4ILcRc7YYSChmsLgIDOekP-IFaoi1auWzduvaFbYx2BsiYKw/s1600/water.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3ggLYxzriyG7-JoiDDvLF1TYdQXL-LxA1fJE9jdzaO_2rzRIPlTYGwfh-Qk6vFIcAiu8GpVRtRaKrt6UA5lz-aY5ubgG4ILcRc7YYSChmsLgIDOekP-IFaoi1auWzduvaFbYx2BsiYKw/s320/water.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
By the time we left San Vicente, we felt a little urgency about getting to our lodgings for the night. This was the day that Eric was responsible for booking, and for a while there it looked like the casa rural that he'd booked was going to be as problematic as the cave trip he'd planned. But the owner of the bed and breakfast was helpful, giving us directions by phone and finally driving out in our direction to steer us on the right course. We needed all this help because the directions she provided in the first place were extremely vague, pointing us in the general direction of a rather large chunk of Pais Vasco. We were pretty sure we were in the right river valley, at least, but it was a very long river. Her first set of phone directions took us back ten kilometers to a turn-off that we'd passed, then along that road, which she said would "go up," and then we would be there. After we followed that road for what felt like a very long time, we called again, and she headed out to meet us as we continued up the road. By the time we met her we only had, as it turned out, four more kilometers to go, assuming we could manage to stay on the correct road. Yikes! But the place was beautiful, the food was good, and not even a windstorm that blew all night could put a damper on our stay. I tried to capture the wind in the photo below, which is otherwise not as scenic as it could have been.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjakx1HD_SRhoiFnCCThtRsOGIeAgahIyYiVahMDm0-FTUbETGJco-ACHC9c5oJHKTym44iVjCGdDczFV3brOFnQqm0J33RgiEW3iKNEHT87-ifKRfx6yHXGnSs9dt2iddyphCmBG9Fdrg/s1600/view+with+wind.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjakx1HD_SRhoiFnCCThtRsOGIeAgahIyYiVahMDm0-FTUbETGJco-ACHC9c5oJHKTym44iVjCGdDczFV3brOFnQqm0J33RgiEW3iKNEHT87-ifKRfx6yHXGnSs9dt2iddyphCmBG9Fdrg/s320/view+with+wind.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBIBhul3Me1xGW6zOgLdp6qdpzPc-07JT7Z-UwywdUsHs0h3y4Un7pN9T9hy_5FvocA0idcRhxbDiPBTugP3-4Ds4IYh-OSwqqCAvIwEoSmC5t1m5VKOTvubi-_jFH4HOzq3jkL6-NJbk/s1600/casa+rural+dining+room.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBIBhul3Me1xGW6zOgLdp6qdpzPc-07JT7Z-UwywdUsHs0h3y4Un7pN9T9hy_5FvocA0idcRhxbDiPBTugP3-4Ds4IYh-OSwqqCAvIwEoSmC5t1m5VKOTvubi-_jFH4HOzq3jkL6-NJbk/s320/casa+rural+dining+room.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The next morning we had a beautiful but exceedingly winding (as opposed to windy) drive to San Sebastian, where we parked far out but for free (because of the Easter weekend) and spent most of the day. The weather was spectacular, the town was packed, and we actually had trouble finding a place to eat because of the crowds. How about yet another shot of the two sweet children, in front of the famous San Sebastian beach? Aren't they adorable?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmxPHeV7O9Q8PDVK5I2e4wRMHBHA34Taf90Jf4yFvtmN5PQPrVdiLLM5VXzysCYiuQqRPI9iPANEI4BT433tIzlc4lihbHsUpKrAn6wfkUkMJK90fjbr9-u7L3bw4VKxpWM6IxXcmQipg/s1600/faces+in+St.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmxPHeV7O9Q8PDVK5I2e4wRMHBHA34Taf90Jf4yFvtmN5PQPrVdiLLM5VXzysCYiuQqRPI9iPANEI4BT433tIzlc4lihbHsUpKrAn6wfkUkMJK90fjbr9-u7L3bw4VKxpWM6IxXcmQipg/s320/faces+in+St.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAb7J1floEq3b6NUflYn3AUQE4ciXRk41mj7sZvoeetFEqL_Dz3F2YCyOf2jYi50Mt4_MGj8PhAbDrsjHAAf1ICa2lKTk6iizapDa5wdF5NX_kiJEgjcBreUIenT1f6BwH591wHGhChKA/s1600/St+Sebastion+sculpture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAb7J1floEq3b6NUflYn3AUQE4ciXRk41mj7sZvoeetFEqL_Dz3F2YCyOf2jYi50Mt4_MGj8PhAbDrsjHAAf1ICa2lKTk6iizapDa5wdF5NX_kiJEgjcBreUIenT1f6BwH591wHGhChKA/s320/St+Sebastion+sculpture.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Of the many, <i>many</i> versions of St. Sebastian (the martyr, not the town) that we saw in churches and museums, this was one of my favorites. There's no mistaking those iconic arrows sticking out all over. Some saints are hard to identify, but not this one. <br />
<br />
These kids aren't hard to identify either. I couldn't resist this picture of them taken in a moment when they were not being ironic or snarky or reciting lines from YouTube videos. They had a lot of steam to blow off after lunch, and sometimes a teeter-totter is just what's called for.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0iHMqW4p6_ReNyWo_5gzSI3vEZvsR4MAb7QfNiHvBsvWOCbT4WM31MJ34cfRTTH6yxtDbnhce3mtwKsxyLAfOSd8S-RE0j8VMBBBfdVfANBI0QxAaSGWdX-n3AMAgO6BCyAfuglpTDcQ/s1600/just+kids.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0iHMqW4p6_ReNyWo_5gzSI3vEZvsR4MAb7QfNiHvBsvWOCbT4WM31MJ34cfRTTH6yxtDbnhce3mtwKsxyLAfOSd8S-RE0j8VMBBBfdVfANBI0QxAaSGWdX-n3AMAgO6BCyAfuglpTDcQ/s320/just+kids.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCuwcE0RqMi3uZp7do_IPG8ibN9RSsqWWqj3ZJZlMPmxLDM4wIrK2F7aPFtnPwWwhthIiSieniOPxxyz35ACCgOs35VegWvE8a8EIebJ7QfUC_WKy8pkiDQ826nA2U6VPIzK0FcBESimg/s1600/ladybug.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCuwcE0RqMi3uZp7do_IPG8ibN9RSsqWWqj3ZJZlMPmxLDM4wIrK2F7aPFtnPwWwhthIiSieniOPxxyz35ACCgOs35VegWvE8a8EIebJ7QfUC_WKy8pkiDQ826nA2U6VPIzK0FcBESimg/s320/ladybug.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Can't hardly have a post on this here blog without a single bug picture, can we?<br />
<br />
We had a bit of trouble finding a place to eat lunch, as I said, and already by the second day of the trip Lauren and Leon, who don't much like seafood, were growing alarmed at the range of meal options in Basque country. We found something for everyone at lunch, but poor Leon ended up with suckling pig at dinner that night in St. Jean de Luz, not so much because he wanted to munch on a baby animal as that he wanted something, anything, that didn't come from the water. They gave him the front half of the pig, unfortunately. Well, I guess that was unfortunate. I think he'd have preferred, not a particular part of the piglet, but just not being able to tell exactly what part of the piglet he was eating at any given moment. <br />
<br />
Lauren was in charge of reservations in St. Jean de Luz, and found a great place with a heated pool, so even through the weather was a little chilly when we arrived, the kids had an hour or so of watery fun. Leon and I even joined them, after Leon got frustrated with the French keyboard on the computer in the lobby. I sympathized, remembering when I was tried to use email in France in 2006. I didn't take pictures in St. Jean de Luz--that's another batch of photos that I'm going to have to depend on Lauren and Leon supplying me with (hint, hint)--but I did have the camera out the next day, the Big Day, the day Quin Became a Man. We were instructed to refer to him throughout the day as Trogdor the Burninator, and we did our best. As you can tell from these two pictures of the kids on the beach at Biarritz (carefully selected from the approximately 50,060 I took of them on that beach), clearly Quin has Become a Man. You can tell from the manly shoulders. Not for the first or last time on this trip did the thought cross all of our minds that they could be siblings.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9a7MpzRnrh-yvpheS_ujriygebEN-KOh2fSIA8B31r3sSlAtmH64ALk6p2uoIU87c9J_VQ-DP0ySCKr2wZtKUA1vvHTgxbs0gNlcMLY6WnXB1V5QDBFsepn8MN83gFWrhsOY5RrKoMuI/s1600/skinny+backs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9a7MpzRnrh-yvpheS_ujriygebEN-KOh2fSIA8B31r3sSlAtmH64ALk6p2uoIU87c9J_VQ-DP0ySCKr2wZtKUA1vvHTgxbs0gNlcMLY6WnXB1V5QDBFsepn8MN83gFWrhsOY5RrKoMuI/s320/skinny+backs.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha5W1sQy3AbD2AuoBjkEoFcUbbsL4mgySdWFGL_DWh0_Ly1PD97sLYNYZ7tYYVOpKIZceB5dXRxeFxvuKPDmZceZExqZ1uREMYfyo6eNL-1uYYH-kDQ2HljqtGBHYxKsuw0VMOzJsxEao/s1600/Biarritz+kids.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha5W1sQy3AbD2AuoBjkEoFcUbbsL4mgySdWFGL_DWh0_Ly1PD97sLYNYZ7tYYVOpKIZceB5dXRxeFxvuKPDmZceZExqZ1uREMYfyo6eNL-1uYYH-kDQ2HljqtGBHYxKsuw0VMOzJsxEao/s320/Biarritz+kids.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The other thought we all had was that they must be freezing. There were almost no swimmers in the water, just a bunch of surfers in wetsuits. But they were undaunted. This beach outing actually came at the end of a day during which they were occasionally quite patient, putting up with us wandering around Bayonne, which turned out to be my favorite place that we visited on the whole trip, maybe because I'd never seen it before. It was hopping on Good Friday, but less because of Holy Week than because they were in the middle of the Ham Festival. Which is the holiday, of the two, I would prefer to celebrate, myself.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG7TqdDiHrlGM4G-ze1F8fQWKfZxMAaqsSSgl5TOVyvEEsLlHTAObyJfaAwWgQwQ394bypfWe9C_8mPQqN8EhjCvelZ5aZEk0MNpT3XQPjo0BMAipJH_QZyydyTGo-4W3rINSXC-lPOl0/s1600/ham+festival+Bayonne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG7TqdDiHrlGM4G-ze1F8fQWKfZxMAaqsSSgl5TOVyvEEsLlHTAObyJfaAwWgQwQ394bypfWe9C_8mPQqN8EhjCvelZ5aZEk0MNpT3XQPjo0BMAipJH_QZyydyTGo-4W3rINSXC-lPOl0/s320/ham+festival+Bayonne.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9E3NZqBzm9-xAQgPNQaxGic66yDKnnD_mPZktrmQoXR3MwuEIg0d-M5R14u9NJ8RZpYd9bDX7Kj91jcBJmhiuy4Krm4g6o-J_SKR8mZDy88wWkRVZSheEh5BQ8eK3HyaLVo0h3Bvq9LI/s1600/Quin+and+goat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9E3NZqBzm9-xAQgPNQaxGic66yDKnnD_mPZktrmQoXR3MwuEIg0d-M5R14u9NJ8RZpYd9bDX7Kj91jcBJmhiuy4Krm4g6o-J_SKR8mZDy88wWkRVZSheEh5BQ8eK3HyaLVo0h3Bvq9LI/s320/Quin+and+goat.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
I don't know what exactly produced this diabolical look on Quin's face, but it had something to do with the goat. Something wholesome, no doubt. Nothing that involved burninating. Or maybe he was just crazed from checking out the Bieb's latest haircut.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-SgThKyO5LZdqLWu-6NvOSk-tI-N8dW5SwgxNz-aO5gAnzcDBxhdBk2eYZkuylJd51uHpaVyunT1D2NNNPLm9z1103rilJuJvtjRs_qIRw4D64k3i0CPyTd-hIktNxVppFfLxc-f1S3k/s1600/kids+checking+out+the+Biebs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-SgThKyO5LZdqLWu-6NvOSk-tI-N8dW5SwgxNz-aO5gAnzcDBxhdBk2eYZkuylJd51uHpaVyunT1D2NNNPLm9z1103rilJuJvtjRs_qIRw4D64k3i0CPyTd-hIktNxVppFfLxc-f1S3k/s320/kids+checking+out+the+Biebs.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh69Trjh40mhYYxiiF7zOpcNBrTShqCItD1-brgEr5LHh3Oy2VMcViTJzQgCyGlKHO22HYjUYOewpGBLSpouPA_TRN5N7xnOWsM-2kXwKLsq_u2L9MRmFi4L-WcNiubhM-uZHT4g4ObXrU/s1600/DSC_0138.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh69Trjh40mhYYxiiF7zOpcNBrTShqCItD1-brgEr5LHh3Oy2VMcViTJzQgCyGlKHO22HYjUYOewpGBLSpouPA_TRN5N7xnOWsM-2kXwKLsq_u2L9MRmFi4L-WcNiubhM-uZHT4g4ObXrU/s320/DSC_0138.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
We had an unfortunate encounter with a very rude businesswoman in Bayonne, perhaps the rudest so-called "service worker" we'd ever had the bad luck to meet, but maybe she'd been driven mad by the Ham Festival crowds. We recovered eventually, and made our way down to the beach at Biarritz, then back to St. Jean de Luz, where Leon and Lauren tried again to order something that wasn't from the sea, resulting in Leon setting aside the large portion of his salad that was in the form of dried meats (of which he was growing tired after being in Spain and southern France for a week, and from which I helped myself liberally), and the kids ran around on the beach as the darkness settled in slowly.<br />
<br />
The next day we had to drive all the way back to Oviedo, but we broke the trip up with a long lunch break in the exceedingly cute medieval town of Santillana del Mar and a long walk on the beach at Oyambre near Comillas, once again in our old neighborhood from 2001. There's a museum for the Altamira cave in Santillana, and their current exhibition, as you can see, was called "Sexo en Piedra," "sex in stone," which just goes to show you what lengths unscrupulous curators will go to to get people into an archeological museum. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhReQuxdCvDDDtu7i66jCVzYA2vbefem3rHBbCOuTlL5UzJVHUzDSsZ00Ls5-4clDE5cGKt0AXcENjss6Y4X5SwFyUWGLRY2vd_XY4ceuVAfin1Tlu5l72M302h2nj_ZFLp0B5wVodjmfg/s1600/sexo+en+piedra.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhReQuxdCvDDDtu7i66jCVzYA2vbefem3rHBbCOuTlL5UzJVHUzDSsZ00Ls5-4clDE5cGKt0AXcENjss6Y4X5SwFyUWGLRY2vd_XY4ceuVAfin1Tlu5l72M302h2nj_ZFLp0B5wVodjmfg/s320/sexo+en+piedra.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDiYSHCkSLNZlVFPqbNRdegTVlKVJQ0FHyE3sMqlbWaT762JAFJFaQStCaya6wxb2HuP5KeKRnpdxfWdHRC1nT2iGWqhusEEl5Eqd-i6pXlb_AjF2F0bPviiPv__tJEMoD_mnxQIZP9K4/s1600/Oyambre+house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDiYSHCkSLNZlVFPqbNRdegTVlKVJQ0FHyE3sMqlbWaT762JAFJFaQStCaya6wxb2HuP5KeKRnpdxfWdHRC1nT2iGWqhusEEl5Eqd-i6pXlb_AjF2F0bPviiPv__tJEMoD_mnxQIZP9K4/s320/Oyambre+house.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The shot above is of the three of us at Oyambre in front of the house we rented for a month in 2001, which was our first time visiting the north of Spain together. The kids waded in the water here, but didn't swim; as you can tell, the weather wasn't great. We did some beach-combing and tide-pooling and scrambling around on rocks. Since it was no longer Quin's birthday, I was allowed to take pictures he wasn't in. Like this one of Leon with his potato rock.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghhMeaw41Zsi1L6a60i_aVbb5dzOXVm_glGegGL0ilSVV-PxTS8ZsVrCn3uyVNNeUdIJduiu1Pikp3yaEH9aye4bTW_7hPLoFPzxTExv-IGnVmzLXV15k_2xxiB24pXqs-t9IafRMsHHs/s1600/Leon%2527s+potato+rock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghhMeaw41Zsi1L6a60i_aVbb5dzOXVm_glGegGL0ilSVV-PxTS8ZsVrCn3uyVNNeUdIJduiu1Pikp3yaEH9aye4bTW_7hPLoFPzxTExv-IGnVmzLXV15k_2xxiB24pXqs-t9IafRMsHHs/s320/Leon%2527s+potato+rock.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Some people look for shells or fossils. I think Leon was still worried about dinner. <br />
<br />
I'll leave you with another of those many, many pictures from the beach in Biarritz. The rain held off until we were on the last leg of the drive to Oviedo, and then it poured after Lauren and Leon and Quin headed back to Madrid on Easter Sunday. That weather was perfect for our mood, and we sat in the house all day. I miss those crazy kids already.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4qp0t6yhLdHmYWu3ihI1FWbrC29-MsQT4r6WxStNqF_YzEhTY_cCp8COzbbMPBTzrd4IhYNw11bwCyTqs4c6e21Poq3C6ro0xqrEs4vUx4ESYnowDdp7hffyz4s_Vj_A4cHyrHwHbrlg/s1600/kids+and+lighthouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4qp0t6yhLdHmYWu3ihI1FWbrC29-MsQT4r6WxStNqF_YzEhTY_cCp8COzbbMPBTzrd4IhYNw11bwCyTqs4c6e21Poq3C6ro0xqrEs4vUx4ESYnowDdp7hffyz4s_Vj_A4cHyrHwHbrlg/s320/kids+and+lighthouse.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div>Eric Heynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13966355802850256623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3586986478569604901.post-83905614145894047492011-04-19T08:38:00.000-07:002011-05-08T03:13:53.854-07:00Family comes to visit--eats, walks, roves<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">So my sister Lauren, her husband Leon, and their son Quin arrived in Oviedo last Friday, and we immediately took them out for <i>sidra</i>. We're going to have to get some again tonight, because Lauren wants to film the whole pouring ritual, so you may be able to check out her Facebook page to see what it looks like. We did a day trip to Gijon with them on Saturday, tooled around Oviedo on Sunday, and then yesterday we went to Leon for the night, to celebrate the city and the province named after Leon. (I'm deliberately not using an accent mark just to confuse you.) Before we get into the celebration of all things LEE-awn and lay-OHN, however, here are a few pictures from Gijon and Oviedo.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6P-Pii2WEQsuJMj0aXPrvd4n3KrNGt9z6wAuIgy9w3ApJxGxJjuONQNMmJUZg-CsZ_ZASsV0hOazZOo_kYwN4KTlYfSK3EFNiR68LScydKAzW6SSSXoHN9Nj5hiSVYSHHBmJPCNNZCK8/s1600/kids+on+hill+in+Gijon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6P-Pii2WEQsuJMj0aXPrvd4n3KrNGt9z6wAuIgy9w3ApJxGxJjuONQNMmJUZg-CsZ_ZASsV0hOazZOo_kYwN4KTlYfSK3EFNiR68LScydKAzW6SSSXoHN9Nj5hiSVYSHHBmJPCNNZCK8/s320/kids+on+hill+in+Gijon.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwwbaRvYxBlnm4V542ACq1YP7wFveWuXZZdyhJwcCDvLT9SMkJEJnLiCXt2Gbm4fRgLIJEqRCpyN1FsuAJbRScYcKn0DVyBene0qNe5kfxRsIG21-V_GhpFNXzW5J6FvSOPMQRn6fwdp8/s1600/Leon+the+magic+man.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwwbaRvYxBlnm4V542ACq1YP7wFveWuXZZdyhJwcCDvLT9SMkJEJnLiCXt2Gbm4fRgLIJEqRCpyN1FsuAJbRScYcKn0DVyBene0qNe5kfxRsIG21-V_GhpFNXzW5J6FvSOPMQRn6fwdp8/s320/Leon+the+magic+man.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
These are from the park on the point of Gijon sticking into the ocean, well above the city with wonderful views in all directions. The kids loved running wild in this huge park. It was extremely windy, although the wind is blowing into Leon's face in the shot above, so does not explain this crazy lean. It was way too windy and chilly for any sane person to go swimming in the ocean, so of course the kids insisted, and we chose the less interesting but also more sheltered beach.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuYezcwXqwL8eSa_2029gqOjjUfJLwerOJ-hDSBlSssLb0UoVKFfPsGOyo5L1Jc7sLXWoCglYaW4Iy2Ck6Dwr_NrDUSJEAji5trN5FP0mNnxkQEJVn7q3vkyXQ6mSJbtaz6AEeExExpdo/s1600/splashing+in+Gijon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuYezcwXqwL8eSa_2029gqOjjUfJLwerOJ-hDSBlSssLb0UoVKFfPsGOyo5L1Jc7sLXWoCglYaW4Iy2Ck6Dwr_NrDUSJEAji5trN5FP0mNnxkQEJVn7q3vkyXQ6mSJbtaz6AEeExExpdo/s320/splashing+in+Gijon.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJfsIBoPdZ46RWzMF5wxIqdSAtbtTw_XQMvH-AtT0vdAiyNCutHUruvEl-oxJb7GQC5VZxlhZt3bsUIjHEBpsfh4dtwaDWirmYgGnJaQume2GlC5KrpC5OX0oJRP7IbK612Xa2eC9v6uI/s1600/folks+in+Gijon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJfsIBoPdZ46RWzMF5wxIqdSAtbtTw_XQMvH-AtT0vdAiyNCutHUruvEl-oxJb7GQC5VZxlhZt3bsUIjHEBpsfh4dtwaDWirmYgGnJaQume2GlC5KrpC5OX0oJRP7IbK612Xa2eC9v6uI/s320/folks+in+Gijon.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Doesn't that just look like an ad for the city, with extremely good-looking professional models posing on the sign? They won't look quite as good in a minute on another sign in another city, but the fault in that case will be that of the very unprofessional photographer. The next couple of shots are on the big hill to the northwest of Oviedo. We took the opportunity of them having a rental car to buzz up to the top of the hill and say hi to the Big Jesus.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijYW_myTm-Lhi8j5F7LwiZ2tdyiqsl1cqdXdtqJl7fi7UDfUexbnLfBd2EKH1IeVaAbqqgWd6ziM3SXYrT95cKAWrpuatA6FBjqgGfO1lTJj1szY-9PpOHCF9xrAmfI3IvSeGe_OoyBqI/s1600/at+the+big+Jesus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijYW_myTm-Lhi8j5F7LwiZ2tdyiqsl1cqdXdtqJl7fi7UDfUexbnLfBd2EKH1IeVaAbqqgWd6ziM3SXYrT95cKAWrpuatA6FBjqgGfO1lTJj1szY-9PpOHCF9xrAmfI3IvSeGe_OoyBqI/s320/at+the+big+Jesus.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkK1QqU_r-1Ymfn2gh6E1jHHRfGYb-2C34lKUlaxsJblG9Mt0hoxufZkQbxHAKTfjcqQr-vAzekK0kh8d9rmvWAsvHOFWRcBUmIMZLr7Y7KVwJ4UyyRe5ZzPwUK7SuE7Hmrje7UWPbgJw/s1600/those+are+cows%252C+son.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkK1QqU_r-1Ymfn2gh6E1jHHRfGYb-2C34lKUlaxsJblG9Mt0hoxufZkQbxHAKTfjcqQr-vAzekK0kh8d9rmvWAsvHOFWRcBUmIMZLr7Y7KVwJ4UyyRe5ZzPwUK7SuE7Hmrje7UWPbgJw/s320/those+are+cows%252C+son.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
In the picture above Lauren is showing Quin what a cow looks like. We also saw sheep and lizards up close.<br />
<br />
The weather was beautiful through most of our first day in Leon, as some of these pictures indicate. Now our long stretch of good weather has and we're looking at rain for the rest of their visit, unfortunately. But we enjoyed the sunny weather in the mid-70s, yes we did, in case any of you folks in rainy Seattle or chilly Fairbanks were wondering.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA4Yu2iHSN9klIiu_JeO8GQob1rYZrYpc5eC2tJgSfP1wSeMOaBuBvJ4lo1nvb1ZFJoVgS7PKgLV3vlplCI-c16HK5vjEoPFYYuG2tUB0CF4tJzm8h9bDMjDIN3o0FeF_R-PLnVzPHNwA/s1600/beautiful+day+at+the+cathedral.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA4Yu2iHSN9klIiu_JeO8GQob1rYZrYpc5eC2tJgSfP1wSeMOaBuBvJ4lo1nvb1ZFJoVgS7PKgLV3vlplCI-c16HK5vjEoPFYYuG2tUB0CF4tJzm8h9bDMjDIN3o0FeF_R-PLnVzPHNwA/s320/beautiful+day+at+the+cathedral.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvIliNKel-TQaui0Npi1gWXrqUyKIGE7lEKm-aNjPWeop3_WNBL8RuQWgX65qV6auSPASXZL0uS0pQai7stjeHCX_TAR1wkRsv7cgNAURro4uaOh81xioBwtXNBdpHJ9QRdnk0y6Omar8/s1600/posing+in+Leon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvIliNKel-TQaui0Npi1gWXrqUyKIGE7lEKm-aNjPWeop3_WNBL8RuQWgX65qV6auSPASXZL0uS0pQai7stjeHCX_TAR1wkRsv7cgNAURro4uaOh81xioBwtXNBdpHJ9QRdnk0y6Omar8/s320/posing+in+Leon.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
We had a great deal of fun with the fact that so many things in this Spanish city are named after Leon, like this sign advertising the "flavors of Leon." He felt very tall around all the short people, and began noting all the other short things in the city, like this bus.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAC7FdcRiKblhZ5XxnK8BQo9gysa41SsrROHvamhyphenhyphenCjB4WGU9yNYEvqc-R76QUrUzuqKAuhozxbPu5J-LJ6zMsrfmsSmuwQ5ErOB3PVI4kfNenkgqsRULKZ5w7ur_wRmvuWuZWyA_KewA/s1600/sabores+de+Leon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAC7FdcRiKblhZ5XxnK8BQo9gysa41SsrROHvamhyphenhyphenCjB4WGU9yNYEvqc-R76QUrUzuqKAuhozxbPu5J-LJ6zMsrfmsSmuwQ5ErOB3PVI4kfNenkgqsRULKZ5w7ur_wRmvuWuZWyA_KewA/s320/sabores+de+Leon.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNldkotAvD3qhzQf7tLufQMNbGdbBXjHZ7vzlAWS1cssVNindco-6VgYNrL5iedFjHbgHQstB3G98FKlXSIwts7gVUT1DprYRl20igGHcd32KOThdbHl0pAVJxe5d8LBMYcJt4Bgvw62M/s1600/Leon+with+short+bus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNldkotAvD3qhzQf7tLufQMNbGdbBXjHZ7vzlAWS1cssVNindco-6VgYNrL5iedFjHbgHQstB3G98FKlXSIwts7gVUT1DprYRl20igGHcd32KOThdbHl0pAVJxe5d8LBMYcJt4Bgvw62M/s320/Leon+with+short+bus.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I couldn't resist including the picture below, because it shows Leon's attitude toward the entire Leon-centric experience. The rest of us were just walking around the city, but Leon was strutting.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5UZWiN7TMzNFsFYp9TsYJ1XmcS0rTVo8vHxXXbcijzdpziGnb_wXL-4Jns2lIe-3wQy4MZSOYTkQnhPfrqXvC4Vl9QZYUo_SbrGdzeIUv9C5lKZRN7MsiqK3fe-c9Sf4dWICD9XlZzrQ/s1600/Leon+looking+cool+in+Leon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5UZWiN7TMzNFsFYp9TsYJ1XmcS0rTVo8vHxXXbcijzdpziGnb_wXL-4Jns2lIe-3wQy4MZSOYTkQnhPfrqXvC4Vl9QZYUo_SbrGdzeIUv9C5lKZRN7MsiqK3fe-c9Sf4dWICD9XlZzrQ/s320/Leon+looking+cool+in+Leon.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghVKcc12q52CP5shR8-Y7yIcukjtYaCfowaL4O7UJfwZ9rq1mLhUXiQYzSYmcj534ZNOP45KGTysmVUFrowJbwAntMRRlyka2lyVvJ73lkbbfKvGYkgctn59BmkStuW4hQl9ARKKsu7pU/s1600/leaping+in+the+park.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghVKcc12q52CP5shR8-Y7yIcukjtYaCfowaL4O7UJfwZ9rq1mLhUXiQYzSYmcj534ZNOP45KGTysmVUFrowJbwAntMRRlyka2lyVvJ73lkbbfKvGYkgctn59BmkStuW4hQl9ARKKsu7pU/s320/leaping+in+the+park.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
While Leon gloated, the rest of us shopped or climbed trees and leaped around in the park, or drank beer. Later we all went out and watched one of the <a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Semana_Santa_en_Le%C3%B3n"><i>Semana Santa</i> processions</a>. Those are the ones with the penitents in what look like Klu Klux Klan outfits. There were fifteen thousand people participating in three different processions that night, and we didn't even make it entirely through one of the three. The fact that it started raining gave us an excuse to go find dinner, but actually we were tired of standing against the wall, and our beer was gone. Lots of the little ones shook Annabel's and Quin's hands, for some reason. This particular group, associated with the Virgin of Anguish and Solitude, was dressed in black, and the small children with their black masks and gloves were a bit creepy. I didn't take my camera, but Annabel, Leon, and Lauren all took lots of pictures, and if none of them make it into this blog, you can always check Facebook (where Leon has probably already posted several). <br />
<br />
By the way, to faithful readers like Tim and Siri and Ryan and Jen who request more pictures of food, Quin is always taking pictures of food, so I may be able to link to some on Facebook or even port a couple over here. Last night he had tremendous fun with his octopus tentacle, and we managed to photograph some of the food hijinks.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Their visit is half over, but the best is yet to come, as we head to France to celebrate Quin's thirteenth birthday. From all things Leon to all things Quin--some fun! I'll leave you with the cousins in the lobby of our very cool art deco hotel in Leon, and then, sadly, one of the rainy cloister of the Collegiata de San Isidro, with the leftover Palm Sunday debris and the rain making it look like a hurricane hit north-central Spain. Hasta luego.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieHrtIrlYd4OhoxW222TllhjHSbGe-FiGxDZHC0gTd99BSe0GEIKaCkBUlMDgSBuXVqvkEhUc240O3fpNbWANS6BN8tdU9ekfaSNgYyWnr6pEq5VH8eK58z351AR32pAjKiLqINHJVRLE/s1600/kids+in+lobby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieHrtIrlYd4OhoxW222TllhjHSbGe-FiGxDZHC0gTd99BSe0GEIKaCkBUlMDgSBuXVqvkEhUc240O3fpNbWANS6BN8tdU9ekfaSNgYyWnr6pEq5VH8eK58z351AR32pAjKiLqINHJVRLE/s320/kids+in+lobby.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC8o7vBWmgF_NOLsNra_UjYcf3khnVghhosh64gwGL92z1joR7gCYXNnL9U7MZFfBKHH2NJPzqX9nM8RIGnL7SCwJEMqCVvpNAtTpXIoacjRARzfYcAOgCpVhzKQS3hnJgbamWwOgVJCw/s1600/rainy+cloister.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC8o7vBWmgF_NOLsNra_UjYcf3khnVghhosh64gwGL92z1joR7gCYXNnL9U7MZFfBKHH2NJPzqX9nM8RIGnL7SCwJEMqCVvpNAtTpXIoacjRARzfYcAOgCpVhzKQS3hnJgbamWwOgVJCw/s320/rainy+cloister.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div>Eric Heynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13966355802850256623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3586986478569604901.post-1761415013456766622011-04-10T04:03:00.000-07:002011-04-10T04:03:52.070-07:00It's like summer here<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">We had some very hot weather here last week, into the 80s, and took advantage of it by taking a long walk above the city, playing golf, and going on an outing to Aviles and Salinas just north of here. I didn't take my camera golfing, but here are a few pictures from the walk Alex and I took on a path that runs along the large hill, Naranco, that forms the northwestern boundary of Oviedo, and a bunch more from the fun outing we had yesterday on the coast.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYaQDN45e0QViQ_wi7KxtCxAxFbXEcDH-3v3ZHJIUVc-XpFU_yH6NEzgB6y8LOvzTkQvBQzw46SQbGjHAAOrjJDoGh123FzlR1YaxjdIQcBKUa8gFDV53VxvRsl6KZO6I08NG-rr1MxkM/s1600/cathedral+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYaQDN45e0QViQ_wi7KxtCxAxFbXEcDH-3v3ZHJIUVc-XpFU_yH6NEzgB6y8LOvzTkQvBQzw46SQbGjHAAOrjJDoGh123FzlR1YaxjdIQcBKUa8gFDV53VxvRsl6KZO6I08NG-rr1MxkM/s320/cathedral+view.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
I'd been wanting to take this particular shot of the cathedral and the bigger mountains to the south for a while, but by the time I got around to it (and got clear weather in the morning to shoot it) most of the snow was gone from the mountains. This is a couple of blocks from our apartment, looking uphill towards the old part of town.<br />
<br />
One fun thing about Oviedo, and European cities in general in my limited experience, is that they are relatively compact with a clear boundary where the country begins. Thus we go under the highway and train tracks from what feels like the middle of the city and we're immediately among the farms.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwtZor7CTa8EH21ICNVVcIzQz2hOOi1P6UD95_9TQS2fCG48lLeMA0Sxi7gpEXmsAuwsw9qIoVCNnm5Ajso7Lg8Gg4H3-j_JcZTi3hPPWB8sw1By5XXL07FqGK3iDtPcerMqLivBYKq80/s1600/sheep+and+horses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwtZor7CTa8EH21ICNVVcIzQz2hOOi1P6UD95_9TQS2fCG48lLeMA0Sxi7gpEXmsAuwsw9qIoVCNnm5Ajso7Lg8Gg4H3-j_JcZTi3hPPWB8sw1By5XXL07FqGK3iDtPcerMqLivBYKq80/s320/sheep+and+horses.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8KCYkbt5Fcz29cn7QNqttKratTiMlfkL2ZUyH5lW7hzsp3-J2oTxCTfwEfksF2T5J0v0F2h2jToehrsFpSG4o5xI_KP4BG_Ztnp3T1JJXyH_J_tTLbks0Ullx3iVRFXj5UpWzfK-Uv_U/s1600/singing+bird.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8KCYkbt5Fcz29cn7QNqttKratTiMlfkL2ZUyH5lW7hzsp3-J2oTxCTfwEfksF2T5J0v0F2h2jToehrsFpSG4o5xI_KP4BG_Ztnp3T1JJXyH_J_tTLbks0Ullx3iVRFXj5UpWzfK-Uv_U/s320/singing+bird.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
On of my greatest pleasures in living outside Fairbanks this year has been listening to all the different birds singing. Three-quarters of the year in Fairbanks is relatively birdless. I could see myself turning into a serious birder in retirement. But for now I'll try to take an occasional picture and mostly just enjoy the sounds, without worrying about identifying the species. <br />
<br />
It was already pretty hazy in Oviedo by 11:00 in the morning, a sign of the heat. We were down the slope before the worst of it, and I am most definitely NOT complaining about the weather, but it was a scorcher.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW3h_jtY2aO5v1LWA_QF2xkBvtrjFpMVFTI1RahkY639PEK14xLyOFCD0q8W25_e6IxcZDxFcdeDHX66MhBQmlWHQGeeDjEx84KMGJ0_jCi5Wmu2_UcaNecRuHF8mGummWGFbsYnsn5N8/s1600/Oviedo+from+Pista.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW3h_jtY2aO5v1LWA_QF2xkBvtrjFpMVFTI1RahkY639PEK14xLyOFCD0q8W25_e6IxcZDxFcdeDHX66MhBQmlWHQGeeDjEx84KMGJ0_jCi5Wmu2_UcaNecRuHF8mGummWGFbsYnsn5N8/s320/Oviedo+from+Pista.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuLQ5WQIai3J96Ie9wvHLwxzeG3IPn8w5T15flFbk27Zz6hq3SsrxnIy8E0HfF52nub0B5rf-AmbNnzhTxLVoBzKhjyDs-04ALEcJaV1UytYtLZizrqKJjL30FXF3w9ITbyTWz_Kht8r8/s1600/spring+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuLQ5WQIai3J96Ie9wvHLwxzeG3IPn8w5T15flFbk27Zz6hq3SsrxnIy8E0HfF52nub0B5rf-AmbNnzhTxLVoBzKhjyDs-04ALEcJaV1UytYtLZizrqKJjL30FXF3w9ITbyTWz_Kht8r8/s320/spring+view.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
That round white lump in the middle of the bottom picture is a new, huge, double-ferris-wheel-shaped building that has government offices and a shopping center. Unfortunately, the building's wild shape gets completely lost--so far I've looked at it from every possible angle, and there's no clear view of it except right below it, which of course is not the best angle from which to see its shape. They did not think this through. Our friend Merche works there, and Alex and I sometimes shop there while we're killing time during Annabel's dance class. That's the far end of town from where we live, which in both pictures is a ways off to the left.<br />
<br />
We took our long walk on Thursday morning. Friday I went golfing, on the steepest course I've ever played, just gorgeous, the municipal course for Oviedo, a ten-minute bus ride out of town. Saturday we took the bus north to the coast, to Aviles, the third-largest city in Asturias (after Gijon and Oviedo), and spent a couple of hours wandering through the old part, having coffee in this plaza, and shopping a little.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Vykap6eUGbOq0tmWBeesQ6511DQ0rkiM1MKJDzc6mUlnqBQzDuP1yZqnxGgZq9kcxLuCynChCSrq2co1UkOFDx3Qfvkb0FIx2cxAef0X12vL1gEg8CDY76Vf1Bfx8-Hy_swNCwaTxAg/s1600/Aviles+plaza.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Vykap6eUGbOq0tmWBeesQ6511DQ0rkiM1MKJDzc6mUlnqBQzDuP1yZqnxGgZq9kcxLuCynChCSrq2co1UkOFDx3Qfvkb0FIx2cxAef0X12vL1gEg8CDY76Vf1Bfx8-Hy_swNCwaTxAg/s320/Aviles+plaza.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOibG-UFSJHV2_zSyRNh1skP_Q3YnEhPz_bcDluSzkIj3XriEZhjwhiQ0V4rISp1QqcYmyChjl-xArfjbkDkQsQQHjY0wfUAfV1kZhirnS_vlEzKkXYfB1hD9Z9EYfEYnhMsNiTafqCyk/s1600/town+hall+bells.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOibG-UFSJHV2_zSyRNh1skP_Q3YnEhPz_bcDluSzkIj3XriEZhjwhiQ0V4rISp1QqcYmyChjl-xArfjbkDkQsQQHjY0wfUAfV1kZhirnS_vlEzKkXYfB1hD9Z9EYfEYnhMsNiTafqCyk/s320/town+hall+bells.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY5JRNbOcYXcdVNn-xqKHnrZV2dMzOjqNG8zQtjw9snrvZF2sjFNvVTeP1BXOySGCZgN36BTcjaJja7NlrO5o-VzdsDV2WLprCG-lJE5O0KTpZ6SERQ_zMENMdVXd84rcU-r_ST-BKUNA/s1600/old+town+car.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY5JRNbOcYXcdVNn-xqKHnrZV2dMzOjqNG8zQtjw9snrvZF2sjFNvVTeP1BXOySGCZgN36BTcjaJja7NlrO5o-VzdsDV2WLprCG-lJE5O0KTpZ6SERQ_zMENMdVXd84rcU-r_ST-BKUNA/s320/old+town+car.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
There's a wedding going on behind Alex in the town hall. The ship on the bells of the tower is a sign of this town's historical identification with the sea. A nobleman from this town (that's his statue below) founded St. Augustine, the oldest European settlement in the U.S., and most of the big houses in the north of Asturias were built by folks who went off to the Americas to make their fortune and returned home to Spain to spread it around. The harbor area is undergoing revitalization centered around a very fancy new civic center (part of it is that white lump below), but the backdrop for the new building is an aging steel mill. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqSQDiVB-w4V095vmVHzDxFjIWxLbPz2ym72SvZpkEWnOIH6Qjh3TOZyKWu5oq1WfwDUT7YicyoruEBJBRGPGXh4UJMAU_u1ukCOLl0wMiS0jTcVcpo0MIvVCKptQu80ANW5eoJVFgdu8/s1600/conquistador.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqSQDiVB-w4V095vmVHzDxFjIWxLbPz2ym72SvZpkEWnOIH6Qjh3TOZyKWu5oq1WfwDUT7YicyoruEBJBRGPGXh4UJMAU_u1ukCOLl0wMiS0jTcVcpo0MIvVCKptQu80ANW5eoJVFgdu8/s320/conquistador.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT34Hk6z_wdzHk9TL0nZAmhjteEJGZaqONSTPwiEpQs1aeC0OXjXDO5TpwYcc_kz2Z9bZeQjvWna_Z-D1iOAPcFJxNXKhidrcJh4o5UqPC95eoDPfDVSH2VyI9wUfaCHXe42YKtQT5U-w/s1600/new+building.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT34Hk6z_wdzHk9TL0nZAmhjteEJGZaqONSTPwiEpQs1aeC0OXjXDO5TpwYcc_kz2Z9bZeQjvWna_Z-D1iOAPcFJxNXKhidrcJh4o5UqPC95eoDPfDVSH2VyI9wUfaCHXe42YKtQT5U-w/s320/new+building.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Every part of the city that we saw displays a similar juxtaposition of sprucing up and decrepitude. This is another shot of the town hall square.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUqns36Gj-_bI9sLKZCi4lCs-AGDpA4R5L0nucceIIne_6XVZXYL9RK7TjZmhPes82C1ieeVKVwXSNXgqB_aSw59eMT0ED1cGMhOM4OhivdS0sZLICDTyquQfFH3MC58TibzFrbszT1pI/s1600/town+hall+square+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUqns36Gj-_bI9sLKZCi4lCs-AGDpA4R5L0nucceIIne_6XVZXYL9RK7TjZmhPes82C1ieeVKVwXSNXgqB_aSw59eMT0ED1cGMhOM4OhivdS0sZLICDTyquQfFH3MC58TibzFrbszT1pI/s320/town+hall+square+view.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
At one point we passed a grating in a wall, and peeked into something like a small chapel, but with this weird penitential tableau.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyo2rwr_T_w8E2wUwh9VDV1b96QDjlk7ACO7slLGKssnCn8bJEJXbyHvSJf4HbaK9kOgZW4l72iTxaenB7nBoPHomzT92n20307Fpcw6mK9Ir78l8hU7n8qmHBo_9ie0JIuu-votiiWG0/s1600/weird+penitents.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyo2rwr_T_w8E2wUwh9VDV1b96QDjlk7ACO7slLGKssnCn8bJEJXbyHvSJf4HbaK9kOgZW4l72iTxaenB7nBoPHomzT92n20307Fpcw6mK9Ir78l8hU7n8qmHBo_9ie0JIuu-votiiWG0/s320/weird+penitents.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyx_ILgTmn4HReEzOjLZoD3rxfmdvqh5uqm1G6Fi35njJ3H6cKbC0QpPGcaKck7B0J7MfTCRo4eX3gCeKZOg2bNA9vXuCwRImazOHnaq7H8slhHtVQcEPJ9XNM8pJrLw2ZkhIaIMaHBZA/s1600/black+swans.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyx_ILgTmn4HReEzOjLZoD3rxfmdvqh5uqm1G6Fi35njJ3H6cKbC0QpPGcaKck7B0J7MfTCRo4eX3gCeKZOg2bNA9vXuCwRImazOHnaq7H8slhHtVQcEPJ9XNM8pJrLw2ZkhIaIMaHBZA/s320/black+swans.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOqegFsW2KWD_VE5iYfLYLBEWPhg_CQ8NVejMeSdRSo56sXx2ycbp1zUM-aFjjBFd0YE61ORhMmOmactaa3GLgBW1IuLt3DT673DyWGb2io8va5uPzbeF670LUFT9QFkQONv2eFZumwfM/s1600/Annabel+climbing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOqegFsW2KWD_VE5iYfLYLBEWPhg_CQ8NVejMeSdRSo56sXx2ycbp1zUM-aFjjBFd0YE61ORhMmOmactaa3GLgBW1IuLt3DT673DyWGb2io8va5uPzbeF670LUFT9QFkQONv2eFZumwfM/s320/Annabel+climbing.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
We took a stroll through a very large city park, full of birds like these black swans and blooming trees perfect for a little climbing. Beneath another tree nearby a young girl was being photographed in her first communion dress. I prefer Annabel in her tree-climbing clothes. <br />
<br />
The backpack contained a ball that we never actually got around to playing with, but also, secretly smuggled along, a bathing suit and towel. Annabel was determined to go in the ocean no matter how cold it was. We were picked up in downtown Aviles by our friend Carmen (the AHA site director for Oviedo, Alex's equivalent of Rosemary for me in Athens), who drove us around and then to her house in the cute little beach community of Salinas. Here's Carmen along with my girls, after we walked out to view the jetty where her husband (on a day of much rougher seas) was washed off by a wave and almost killed.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsCdzdvOTlVpSk_EjPatwncx4VASMKratm6VvOcggvWFnCVI-4MOhbEiltGUEHCfbeV2fV-dlSorQ1zOWobqATG9RPKX44YUqyLZJOuFmEnTKkkSsx9vAxTB97FKHdnYD6yu9T0rc6Pn8/s1600/with+Carmen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsCdzdvOTlVpSk_EjPatwncx4VASMKratm6VvOcggvWFnCVI-4MOhbEiltGUEHCfbeV2fV-dlSorQ1zOWobqATG9RPKX44YUqyLZJOuFmEnTKkkSsx9vAxTB97FKHdnYD6yu9T0rc6Pn8/s320/with+Carmen.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Carmen is originally from Cuba, but some of her ancestors moved there from Asturias. Her family moved to the U.S. when she was a girl and she grew up there, but then ended up marrying and settling in Asturias, so that her own family history recapitulates a cycle of Asturian history. <br />
<br />
Carmen had prepared a feast for us, which we ate on the terrace of her eighth-floor condo overlooking the ocean and the bluff behind Salinas. A beach walk afterwards was just what we needed to work off a little of the delicious meal. We went first to a small rocky cove to beach-comb, and then to the big municipal beach where Annabel got the chance to make good on her vow to go swimming in the ocean at the first opportunity.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG1eDtRprWgf-m91cIyLaOSX0rYv6TK9af8FttvxYeFbuxJMRvDGAZZFfbncZqDKKPktyk1pQtwiqoZ-UzmnPq0TmS0l1F5ChOyo6RlpYioU0BeTkVSCWyHkz-G26c-IG-_b6_gzbQ3PA/s1600/wave+dodging.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG1eDtRprWgf-m91cIyLaOSX0rYv6TK9af8FttvxYeFbuxJMRvDGAZZFfbncZqDKKPktyk1pQtwiqoZ-UzmnPq0TmS0l1F5ChOyo6RlpYioU0BeTkVSCWyHkz-G26c-IG-_b6_gzbQ3PA/s320/wave+dodging.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4DWKUFQVJC_Q7z_xATrAlHqa-_VrJ5JsFpTcFZv7CCz4nAsj2-GoxZw4tUEGEF0HagUqHrIQbmVD4rRN0YP88VDAtSzSPmWCWOOGvHLgW8Ra_E7VmwuFdwAfyXEVF4JO3H_D3VttBfYg/s1600/that%2527s+cold.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4DWKUFQVJC_Q7z_xATrAlHqa-_VrJ5JsFpTcFZv7CCz4nAsj2-GoxZw4tUEGEF0HagUqHrIQbmVD4rRN0YP88VDAtSzSPmWCWOOGvHLgW8Ra_E7VmwuFdwAfyXEVF4JO3H_D3VttBfYg/s320/that%2527s+cold.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-8XFIed8eWn9Rr7NWhyYZ7WAWlS9JBwduaHM-Yh23_Y4KszCVnrxbjFeLdF_rvXiwEYgPmAfqVoYEVN1-GgNe8xLnyXjAuTaq5rn2CwRgCUP5Fr1xuCq00N_yPl5EDTKmVEW2t8KsFlE/s1600/in+completely.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-8XFIed8eWn9Rr7NWhyYZ7WAWlS9JBwduaHM-Yh23_Y4KszCVnrxbjFeLdF_rvXiwEYgPmAfqVoYEVN1-GgNe8xLnyXjAuTaq5rn2CwRgCUP5Fr1xuCq00N_yPl5EDTKmVEW2t8KsFlE/s320/in+completely.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br />
She timed it just right, because the weather turned very quickly, and by the time we got on the bus to Oviedo an hour later, it was cold and windy and threatening. This girl has no fear. Her standard question is, "Is it colder than the Chena?" <br />
<br />
Join us again in a week or so, when we should have more ocean-swimming pictures, perhaps including visiting family members Lauren and Leon and Quin. 'Til then, hasta luego.</div>Eric Heynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13966355802850256623noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3586986478569604901.post-76683926649339721802011-04-03T00:23:00.000-07:002011-04-03T00:23:12.383-07:00A walk and a bike in the country<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">We just had two days of summer weather, mid- to high 70s, and the weekend before another couple of days almost that warm. The three of us walked across Oviedo and then a few kilometers down a trail along a former railroad bed. Then a couple of days ago I rented a bike and took the trail many more kilometers out of town. These are pictures from those two excursions on the same trail.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhX56rze6Y0luZMHsspRGJ7D5EWCErlW1i4HOQ1RFXZKxAGwhkxMyWISoTkl3V7V_zZbDWt2bYGRnk4lvpVFY6kiPsfSPo97fMA2rRMzHiw45_CgG935d2o2ZByzSuKWeIxMfDUCoxayE/s1600/girls+walking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhX56rze6Y0luZMHsspRGJ7D5EWCErlW1i4HOQ1RFXZKxAGwhkxMyWISoTkl3V7V_zZbDWt2bYGRnk4lvpVFY6kiPsfSPo97fMA2rRMzHiw45_CgG935d2o2ZByzSuKWeIxMfDUCoxayE/s320/girls+walking.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0FBb-NofAEqBG8T5T13Z-h6P7oadz7zG1aA2LGqWKZ0keuGobaDxQmQ-6TxmAjsL7xrZKQi2ugYeemmTeqbMhVSPazD74bfmYlGliBHm1bYjZk48Xr4gOc7TJ6SebhR3ZfXuru7MSUHM/s1600/spring+flower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0FBb-NofAEqBG8T5T13Z-h6P7oadz7zG1aA2LGqWKZ0keuGobaDxQmQ-6TxmAjsL7xrZKQi2ugYeemmTeqbMhVSPazD74bfmYlGliBHm1bYjZk48Xr4gOc7TJ6SebhR3ZfXuru7MSUHM/s320/spring+flower.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
You can see how flat and wide the trail is, and from the bottom picture you can see that spring is well sprung here. There were actually lots of bikers and joggers and walkers and dog-walkers on the trail--this is the only opportunity I had to get a picture without other people in it. We took a little side trail through the woods, and snapped pictures of lizards and birds and flowers and a shoe lost in the creek--you know, nature stuff. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh80F-srwnCdaHjkBl4HlPA1z-ljtAgEmYXd7f1jHOgKIVIolHIEIe7bP8UA9qEhh6yPXUKQmWhvfIyiD_vyg1RNOwRrmfyY0v5mpU0uR60obEb_HaUVMj93zHfktQxi8Z59AzAO4W9WUo/s1600/shaggy+ponies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh80F-srwnCdaHjkBl4HlPA1z-ljtAgEmYXd7f1jHOgKIVIolHIEIe7bP8UA9qEhh6yPXUKQmWhvfIyiD_vyg1RNOwRrmfyY0v5mpU0uR60obEb_HaUVMj93zHfktQxi8Z59AzAO4W9WUo/s320/shaggy+ponies.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkrwi9mFcsMpXK_jNoQxbI-YxSHEXnd3jBJ2PYUihwkhphNphNKV_QgY2GVfVHtxa8TrFIYUUsGSUL8y2UUsccn0Lwfm-Uu-uMH9ZLb0N_znppOjrgVn6qln_cfyfPMwFTIlLEcXpqPlI/s1600/magpie+nest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkrwi9mFcsMpXK_jNoQxbI-YxSHEXnd3jBJ2PYUihwkhphNphNKV_QgY2GVfVHtxa8TrFIYUUsGSUL8y2UUsccn0Lwfm-Uu-uMH9ZLb0N_znppOjrgVn6qln_cfyfPMwFTIlLEcXpqPlI/s320/magpie+nest.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
More spring sights: a magpie nest and some shaggy Asturian ponies. Magpies are the most common winter bird here, apart from the citified pigeons and sparrows, and we saw dozens that day. Like most European cities that I've seen, Oviedo has an abrupt boundary where the multistory apartment buildings end and the countryside begins. But Oviedo is also a booming city, even during this economic crisis, and so is encroaching into the country in several directions. I was taken with these lampposts in the middle of a field. We'd just watched <i>The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe</i>, and I was also reminded of that lamppost.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSUi9ZVzv4JioxiaO4umhrjbMy6ypWX-msFdstftz53jyYSfDWCC56dQlk_vQ8hZSfWYa74DQtWSHhSbRfPhgGeHT3i7fk1eKZjhpd9ZH1Rr3YBcpgqgnvr2xHumb_Ef398mS7KHfT7iI/s1600/streetlamps+without+streets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSUi9ZVzv4JioxiaO4umhrjbMy6ypWX-msFdstftz53jyYSfDWCC56dQlk_vQ8hZSfWYa74DQtWSHhSbRfPhgGeHT3i7fk1eKZjhpd9ZH1Rr3YBcpgqgnvr2xHumb_Ef398mS7KHfT7iI/s320/streetlamps+without+streets.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOOXKHyCLvgEKIE3z43HIergS476EKhagPyPvU0BJKZGMrnHZY8zbB6VoVULt4hfyjCdJmOZ9tGhPA37ZUorbKYK3aHajXxID6oaBsS0fZ4Y6v13uOkWWo-Cut4UbvTxx93-_poH9uhss/s1600/Alex+in+the+woods.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOOXKHyCLvgEKIE3z43HIergS476EKhagPyPvU0BJKZGMrnHZY8zbB6VoVULt4hfyjCdJmOZ9tGhPA37ZUorbKYK3aHajXxID6oaBsS0fZ4Y6v13uOkWWo-Cut4UbvTxx93-_poH9uhss/s320/Alex+in+the+woods.jpg" width="312" /></a></div><br />
And, finally, the intrepid hiker herself. It turned out that we picked exactly the right point at which to turn around in our walk, because, as I discovered on my bike ride, the next stretch was stinky and dusty and industrial. I couldn't get a really good shot of whatever the largest factory was, perhaps a cement or other construction materials facility, nor of the two large quarries that I could make out through the trees, and the cloud of dust over the trail didn't make a good picture. But I did like this one of the traditional Asturian barn, up on stone stilts to keep out the critters, in front of one of the newer construction-business buildings.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI4LmCWiYtAnjpmHOki4BrLF1BYGdHzN_3AsUM3D_ijbPixMenw7THmJutL8HDA8MKQOmXXDEgupfU9_0cJkXV8c_8rFXqF5ikpisLdO4eWqBLhh83LZ1369wlk87csYNE4fDC0ENaN7c/s1600/old+and+new.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI4LmCWiYtAnjpmHOki4BrLF1BYGdHzN_3AsUM3D_ijbPixMenw7THmJutL8HDA8MKQOmXXDEgupfU9_0cJkXV8c_8rFXqF5ikpisLdO4eWqBLhh83LZ1369wlk87csYNE4fDC0ENaN7c/s320/old+and+new.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRSwvcV5r_dUe5cMFjsQDYrwNb7k9EsiFukRqLJ9QVhtaWPVzM_ekLEhjG_wUEdl9DaC6tQp9qLOoDXjG04bC7Ymtoz1lws5tfnSaXfrPZ7qGMmRfmg4JJzLaMfI7xFW1jnGxCwem3CMU/s1600/campo+de+golf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRSwvcV5r_dUe5cMFjsQDYrwNb7k9EsiFukRqLJ9QVhtaWPVzM_ekLEhjG_wUEdl9DaC6tQp9qLOoDXjG04bC7Ymtoz1lws5tfnSaXfrPZ7qGMmRfmg4JJzLaMfI7xFW1jnGxCwem3CMU/s320/campo+de+golf.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Just past that industrial stretch there was a series of tunnels, and then the trail emerged into a much more bucolic setting, the valley of the Nalon river, and the first thing I saw was the municipal golf course, which I hope to play at least once before we leave. With club rentals it would be very expensive for a non-member, but I should get in at least one practice round before our big golf week in Scotland.<br />
<br />
Most of the pictures I took on the rest of the route had the river in them somewhere. I think it's fairly polluted, but it does have sportfish, including salmon, and I passed one stretch of designated catch-and-release area, but never saw anyone fishing. The prettiest spot was right where I hit the river, which was also where it came out of the mountains, at Fuso de la Reina. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7klj40Xc3Y5QPMkaEv1DMhgCYxzbXelC4rjhwEW4FH3DhVRPPPNnobRMOFyhRRGUjWRBXkvaIZnCz_p2b_3aJZ4t2HqVZMrDz_B26dqqhnlVIjKyzx_KsszuoOzCRiXOoCsbcezJoz4w/s1600/Fuso+de+la+Reina.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7klj40Xc3Y5QPMkaEv1DMhgCYxzbXelC4rjhwEW4FH3DhVRPPPNnobRMOFyhRRGUjWRBXkvaIZnCz_p2b_3aJZ4t2HqVZMrDz_B26dqqhnlVIjKyzx_KsszuoOzCRiXOoCsbcezJoz4w/s320/Fuso+de+la+Reina.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYP3kU-qAPe7mghh0WabQMFFPsSt9QHtTRm5qLFhDLlCAyVJGE1u2N0zM-IsM79HFBt1hhj6Hah3Vdkt9gh4G-MZxSP7ApCMMfZU-iUibr1-EoCFrGXKvDJSoAfNQRI47mZPFg8rkTIXo/s1600/Rio+Nalon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYP3kU-qAPe7mghh0WabQMFFPsSt9QHtTRm5qLFhDLlCAyVJGE1u2N0zM-IsM79HFBt1hhj6Hah3Vdkt9gh4G-MZxSP7ApCMMfZU-iUibr1-EoCFrGXKvDJSoAfNQRI47mZPFg8rkTIXo/s320/Rio+Nalon.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5dZmB9lhnAU-lflKyfD9GdfNCUbaGj1LtFqkns2LeZdX8W9j-M7MOilIn7VGoZ65zBFvF-E4PHmmSLDGyOgJ9Bh3qV_jw8yYFPGvqCO7eEXoPLIcDG-AD67onWLXwc4GZkIfME_Xctf0/s1600/aquaduct.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5dZmB9lhnAU-lflKyfD9GdfNCUbaGj1LtFqkns2LeZdX8W9j-M7MOilIn7VGoZ65zBFvF-E4PHmmSLDGyOgJ9Bh3qV_jw8yYFPGvqCO7eEXoPLIcDG-AD67onWLXwc4GZkIfME_Xctf0/s320/aquaduct.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
That train station is still active--from this point the tracks were still being used for their original purpose, so the foot/bike path that followed and criss-crossed the tracks was a little more rugged. This swaying footbridge was a kick. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ddugSkx-yLc_1zuKlTlZMMREh61wcAYdPlNzZmAGG6aIA3680mgz6Qs9CbT19buMPAPwz7ZG8wcMiRwuh9uUUIRanp9hFD-h1bfkd26bc5FtPJIVuQNfRZZcbBwfgB_t8lCfA6CGKCM/s1600/footbridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8ddugSkx-yLc_1zuKlTlZMMREh61wcAYdPlNzZmAGG6aIA3680mgz6Qs9CbT19buMPAPwz7ZG8wcMiRwuh9uUUIRanp9hFD-h1bfkd26bc5FtPJIVuQNfRZZcbBwfgB_t8lCfA6CGKCM/s320/footbridge.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB1flQt6KUFXNAd6Bm_oL89AilTqWYMdLKoLhU5SdVdCB9CYuKexNnaZAfaGzpyMxjVgg7g8YlHcZ_d3BaEIvyOFBHuhXpYXcWhrP8uawKFMtwLzCOY8Lw8oCsWB1_o0kPIgJaO3cKhWA/s1600/fake+castle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB1flQt6KUFXNAd6Bm_oL89AilTqWYMdLKoLhU5SdVdCB9CYuKexNnaZAfaGzpyMxjVgg7g8YlHcZ_d3BaEIvyOFBHuhXpYXcWhrP8uawKFMtwLzCOY8Lw8oCsWB1_o0kPIgJaO3cKhWA/s320/fake+castle.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizS24i3YiRNr_ew3NNs_9K9KNi6ukZbnyFn8mqFjYXucq2JHVlUUiKSwhiIZcCTaYRblQphBkQQSrpUazBO5i4u7JSUtkE3uaKmKOfoLXL2gfVPZ4L3NU3piORf1whZrE0VJU7i4SoSt0/s1600/bridge+ruin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizS24i3YiRNr_ew3NNs_9K9KNi6ukZbnyFn8mqFjYXucq2JHVlUUiKSwhiIZcCTaYRblQphBkQQSrpUazBO5i4u7JSUtkE3uaKmKOfoLXL2gfVPZ4L3NU3piORf1whZrE0VJU7i4SoSt0/s320/bridge+ruin.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
There are apparently several of these 19th-century faux castles in the area. I don't know what this one is used for, but another one we saw is a restaurant. I got pretty sunburned on my neck and <i>me duele el culo</i> even two days later, but it was a wonderful spring outing that felt like summer. There were lizards and birds everywhere, and cottony seed floating on the breeze. I'll leave you with a shot of one of the lizards that I had to dodge in the trail, and one of the tunnels in front of which you can see the seeds floating like little lights. Yesterday it was dark and gloomy all day, but we're hoping for a few more days like this, and a couple more chances to get out into the countryside. Asturia's motto is <i>Paraiso Natural</i>, and they have a lot of beautiful nature sticking out all over the place. Next post maybe there'll be some nature of the seaside variety. <i>Hasta luego</i>.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA4zMs_rSSSspNms8KDfqUvvuo5IU-7hSoaBGgT8EtBIP8iurcUJp9-02w8QjJO6oeDrk9f4MXf-NxMewqfJSjgOVnwjnaXHEaBPeeVvBECm1DowxgWPjZzT2x9BztxWuxQ-KZUfr27hE/s1600/lizard+lizard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA4zMs_rSSSspNms8KDfqUvvuo5IU-7hSoaBGgT8EtBIP8iurcUJp9-02w8QjJO6oeDrk9f4MXf-NxMewqfJSjgOVnwjnaXHEaBPeeVvBECm1DowxgWPjZzT2x9BztxWuxQ-KZUfr27hE/s320/lizard+lizard.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw34r4Qbdjg0v-46DhofyYBdzWGwbgrr-2NALLSJRHMfWR2sn4QYLVLff38526OOD36nmG85w13qCWphXLpKpXz55ry6UEiJura2xhXzK9rwxt-6Oru3A7wjhtuV0aor8eBJeWxWL83sk/s1600/tunnel+with+pollen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw34r4Qbdjg0v-46DhofyYBdzWGwbgrr-2NALLSJRHMfWR2sn4QYLVLff38526OOD36nmG85w13qCWphXLpKpXz55ry6UEiJura2xhXzK9rwxt-6Oru3A7wjhtuV0aor8eBJeWxWL83sk/s320/tunnel+with+pollen.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div>Eric Heynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13966355802850256623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3586986478569604901.post-21440530485823749002011-03-19T23:55:00.000-07:002011-03-19T23:55:27.197-07:00Paris yet again???<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">You're probably tired of all the Paris blogs. That's okay, you can skip this one. This is Eric having fun with the pictures he took.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2My6m9_AMQPI8KPviJ1Ht7gQ17h7WRhldnTBFK7ae06_ExMaj_dsMkv5aSZhZlw7r6Zk1xlxe3Dmoge2l99z5uN-jQbu7kEUl5h1qAEKzfJjmEjEQGRoAmVneo9bQIT2R1QnUaoVUXGQ/s1600/Annabel+at+Louvre.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2My6m9_AMQPI8KPviJ1Ht7gQ17h7WRhldnTBFK7ae06_ExMaj_dsMkv5aSZhZlw7r6Zk1xlxe3Dmoge2l99z5uN-jQbu7kEUl5h1qAEKzfJjmEjEQGRoAmVneo9bQIT2R1QnUaoVUXGQ/s320/Annabel+at+Louvre.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpOoY3CgeLc6u_sysQ9C1HE_14p3qDc5D0yyrZnjn8CefTJB5HbVglwVzcOp5tCdNUcyFYJqp-FxDAwM_XhYO36MCOCmqPBjQv1-4lRvEN-EGyfKMX5Ddde1qvMDdDLV5G7ImdOOACwBQ/s1600/art+voyeurs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpOoY3CgeLc6u_sysQ9C1HE_14p3qDc5D0yyrZnjn8CefTJB5HbVglwVzcOp5tCdNUcyFYJqp-FxDAwM_XhYO36MCOCmqPBjQv1-4lRvEN-EGyfKMX5Ddde1qvMDdDLV5G7ImdOOACwBQ/s320/art+voyeurs.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTih7BIlE7li61UrQ42py-l_kpeOBBTDjTboHx47KNDNNWdGNzgHeQMUAtOj-nUIMVZYHyMKANUiegcPDmKDGuT3a63Ugyqq9PODme_qbknyrWAJPAv42fzfQVSd_LtX_cFo4oh6Qt-5Q/s1600/let+my+blood+be+the+last+verse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTih7BIlE7li61UrQ42py-l_kpeOBBTDjTboHx47KNDNNWdGNzgHeQMUAtOj-nUIMVZYHyMKANUiegcPDmKDGuT3a63Ugyqq9PODme_qbknyrWAJPAv42fzfQVSd_LtX_cFo4oh6Qt-5Q/s320/let+my+blood+be+the+last+verse.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
We've got Annabel outside the Louvre, Virgil and Dante checking out the action, and a scene in Notre Dame.<br />
<br />
I took lots of pictures of Annabel from the back, looking at things, and they get me every time. I have one of her facing us in virtually the same position, but it's just not the same. It's so much more powerful when she's looking at what we're looking at, and we have the complex experience of seeing what she's seeing and seeing her seeing it. Notice how I switched into the royal "we" there. This is something parents do--we think all those other parents will feel exactly like we feel.<br />
<br />
One of the reasons I'm writing this post, even though we've already "done" Paris, is because I've been tinkering with the photos. Every single other post in this blog this year has been unaltered, uncropped, un-anything-ed. But sometimes it's fun to tinker. I messed with stuff in most of these pictures--there's your disclaimer. It doesn't make me a better photographer, but you know what? It's not about how good a photographer I am. Alex and Annabel had fun tinkering with a couple of these with me. There'll be one from Greece later, with Galen, just to show what we could have been doing last fall with all those pictures.<br />
<br />
The second one above I took because I love the intersection of literature and painting. Dante doesn't want us to think about him as a voyeur while he's narrating his adventures, but painters inconveniently sometimes represent what we weren't supposed to be thinking about. A great love needs a great storyteller, and a great moral system needs someone to convert those stories into their proper lessons. But all it takes is one painter to come along and mess things up...<br />
<br />
I don't even know who this writer is, or why the quotation (which I presume is his) of "let my blood be the last verse" would be preserved in Notre Dame. I just loved the way the stained-glass light reflected off the combination of carving and words. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE1N6YIlnsgBAGe7hW-4zr5KhpivbGMl-tP-lCq9KFjKd6h_UQOBcWeP93gSQcd659mtRjnfvVBKGm3yUQMOewYTpihqQeB786wZ41IPm6sBCuhDFaqPBkMjoI3RnGsDHiE_lVaDU4v2A/s1600/headless+statues.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE1N6YIlnsgBAGe7hW-4zr5KhpivbGMl-tP-lCq9KFjKd6h_UQOBcWeP93gSQcd659mtRjnfvVBKGm3yUQMOewYTpihqQeB786wZ41IPm6sBCuhDFaqPBkMjoI3RnGsDHiE_lVaDU4v2A/s320/headless+statues.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOZebrjR4IWGC8GvqSdzwaBOCNVXNaLwmcZ7u0s2YqtA43xGFF5viOjdRj7CzX-WPJ4ZzsdPs8qKwO1UxjhH-JGYo-RhhSN4vvtm9RLE6wC07BRq2vaFWUsrB2wRDCdKcnxW6DFvsVppo/s1600/missing+heads.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOZebrjR4IWGC8GvqSdzwaBOCNVXNaLwmcZ7u0s2YqtA43xGFF5viOjdRj7CzX-WPJ4ZzsdPs8qKwO1UxjhH-JGYo-RhhSN4vvtm9RLE6wC07BRq2vaFWUsrB2wRDCdKcnxW6DFvsVppo/s320/missing+heads.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFk2352TK7oY6PiSkHZl0mzKEB1T6GFHAlr2agdgWpVgCBYfKiOZX9jLZIH5ZBM_hnd47b4QX0QA8-Ba2A9TN22IdTxD_DWFezDGCEMfW_r9I4moVNh00hwGwfnlCtkCOcJCygHmcFEPI/s1600/relic+case+in+Cluny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFk2352TK7oY6PiSkHZl0mzKEB1T6GFHAlr2agdgWpVgCBYfKiOZX9jLZIH5ZBM_hnd47b4QX0QA8-Ba2A9TN22IdTxD_DWFezDGCEMfW_r9I4moVNh00hwGwfnlCtkCOcJCygHmcFEPI/s320/relic+case+in+Cluny.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv5VLpDdpfiPS18JWPNG9aai7G5H3z2qcT-MugLEnU0IQOVKaEd0BsNLZjUralM63OxqSVnYqKzj7XP3mfwCrdFN7rEXPR66Zo2PHHHddD0GewDox9FuAfA0z6dW-Rz_twndqJsahKRo0/s1600/tapestry+demons+with+speech+bubble.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv5VLpDdpfiPS18JWPNG9aai7G5H3z2qcT-MugLEnU0IQOVKaEd0BsNLZjUralM63OxqSVnYqKzj7XP3mfwCrdFN7rEXPR66Zo2PHHHddD0GewDox9FuAfA0z6dW-Rz_twndqJsahKRo0/s320/tapestry+demons+with+speech+bubble.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
There are so many things to see in Paris that you have to make some tough decisions. In order for us to see anything in particular, someone had to step up and say "Let's go there." In the case of the Cluny Museum of Medieval Art it was Alex who stepped up, and we were all very grateful to her for making sure that we saw this museum and especially the tapestries. You'll have to check out the more professional images from the Cluny in order to see the <a href="http://www.google.es/images?q=unicorn+tapestries+cluny&hl=es&client=safari&rls=en&prmd=ivns&source=lnms&tbs=isch:1&ei=PgSFTZKHFovzsgaZ1pmLAw&sa=X&oi=mode_link&ct=mode&cd=2&ved=0CBQQ_AUoAQ&biw=1060&bih=721">fabulous unicorn tapestries</a>. What we have here are some of the statues whose heads were chopped off during the outbreaks of French secularism and populism (those outbreaks displaying some of the best <i>and</i> the worst of the French character) and then, of course, some of the heads. I just love it that they have the statues situated near the heads, separately, without just putting heads back on statues. Maybe they couldn't match them up, maybe these are the leftovers and I didn't even notice the repair jobs elsewhere, but this makes for a vivid history lesson.<br />
<br />
The small crucifix is either a relic case or was used for processionals, probably the latter, but I'm not sure since I didn't take notes or include the lower parts in the photo. I am very fond of the style here--it displays everything that appeals to me about medieval art, and even makes me want to learn how to make art myself. Too bad I made it so yellow. <br />
<br />
And likewise the three demons in the tapestry below, much yellower than they should be, but you're also getting more detail than emerged in my original shot. I took a bunch of pictures of tapestries with speech bubbles, as I'm thinking a lot about graphic novels at the moment, and I wanted to note their ancient history. Annabel asked me to make sure to take a picture of these demons. Demons are often the best part of any piece of art they're in, and I was happy to oblige. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiWcveV5iCehpmoV6idnyDUZkQnVBHF5U9CKzpuvBaQZsg6NGLmCdHnVV5Fe0K_zNlrW5CfXU8AgS6jJX1naB-HjeK7ahxlG5-vd1DbjRg5_JQE1_hlQnW78KLbRhh-QPIQI6ykBX-vwk/s1600/winter+vines.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiWcveV5iCehpmoV6idnyDUZkQnVBHF5U9CKzpuvBaQZsg6NGLmCdHnVV5Fe0K_zNlrW5CfXU8AgS6jJX1naB-HjeK7ahxlG5-vd1DbjRg5_JQE1_hlQnW78KLbRhh-QPIQI6ykBX-vwk/s320/winter+vines.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG0iPkmvavLQYI5aUwt9kJtBKrqU5BN5pg_B0BlvEMaUX93bRgkZHlX8HuxDJYTvzp-Kmm4mWM46Wm7lKmhRueKoTJcNXK1H22W8umyoOCwagicbaWZX794BBaRLn5ivznXwu5rj-NGTU/s1600/Communist+Party+headquarters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG0iPkmvavLQYI5aUwt9kJtBKrqU5BN5pg_B0BlvEMaUX93bRgkZHlX8HuxDJYTvzp-Kmm4mWM46Wm7lKmhRueKoTJcNXK1H22W8umyoOCwagicbaWZX794BBaRLn5ivznXwu5rj-NGTU/s320/Communist+Party+headquarters.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0_J_mk2YF75vIpyns7RmzD6YWCLAoEP3NEpNzmrEAPRRAm77BE7Jo1ISWymWw5HRmtXTHTNclkT2IvlYAesC0_9R06E7q8vnTtabQw2Xye1r5pwPDTIYb1Jbd9Z7EYl6b-VtrSDM2bTQ/s1600/Code+of+Hamurabi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0_J_mk2YF75vIpyns7RmzD6YWCLAoEP3NEpNzmrEAPRRAm77BE7Jo1ISWymWw5HRmtXTHTNclkT2IvlYAesC0_9R06E7q8vnTtabQw2Xye1r5pwPDTIYb1Jbd9Z7EYl6b-VtrSDM2bTQ/s320/Code+of+Hamurabi.jpg" width="100" /></a></div><br />
The bottom is more artwork from the Louvre. When it was my turn to push, I made my pitch for a return visit, since we'd only been able to see so much the first time. The one area I wanted to be sure to see was the Mesopotamian and Babylonian stuff. That's the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Code_of_Hammurabi">Code of Hammurabi</a> there on a diorite stele that is said to represent a human finger (but a lot bigger), from roughly 3700 years ago. The Europeans found it around 1900, but it had already been looted from its original owners 3200 years earlier. The Louvre is, of course, the second- or third-largest hoard of stolen goods in the world. They even have a piece of the Parthenon, which our time in Athens qualified us to take personally. Now I can hardly turn around in a place like the Louvre without wondering who took what when and from whom. <br />
<br />
The top picture is the kind of image I can't resist photographing, although I'm never pleased with how such photographs come out, because inevitably the power of the image depends on its context--in this case, the size of these walls, the location of this courtyard off a quiet street on the edge of the Place des Voges, and the way the beautiful cold blue air heightened the sense that this vine complex was both dead and alive.<br />
<br />
The middle picture is just a closed-up building, the local Communist Party headquarters for the 11th Arrondissement. The graffiti was fine, but what I liked was simply the fact that the communist party is just a normal part of life in France. It's been such a bogeyman in the U.S. for so long. Who will be the next relic of history? Whose lopped-off heads will one day be displayed in the Museum of the Early Digital Age?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT_EmZ3eNuw4uG0FmZfAvu9vk5prlDw7DorFn5uzkDQLFeu-AeRvJtCoOiRdmsbYANIghxNPzxR6AGqKHYhhmNvGrYT9ah9qvCn6upYGBdbC7hf0uISG5qAh7m8rWal2Eaz_Spjb3jBdI/s1600/CP+officials.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT_EmZ3eNuw4uG0FmZfAvu9vk5prlDw7DorFn5uzkDQLFeu-AeRvJtCoOiRdmsbYANIghxNPzxR6AGqKHYhhmNvGrYT9ah9qvCn6upYGBdbC7hf0uISG5qAh7m8rWal2Eaz_Spjb3jBdI/s320/CP+officials.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVluN9WOV8n0qZHm7gWiAUFwEcxPDlv9cm63XXkVeu8SPDCRuw3t22dqWMa3WtYMPOLmKff5-8bWuGX-wkjEYR8BCurjyzHVrtePHXZxsORNGSp4kbtIt9XKWrayxA2CbgQ4hbRrR4zSY/s1600/international+brigade.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVluN9WOV8n0qZHm7gWiAUFwEcxPDlv9cm63XXkVeu8SPDCRuw3t22dqWMa3WtYMPOLmKff5-8bWuGX-wkjEYR8BCurjyzHVrtePHXZxsORNGSp4kbtIt9XKWrayxA2CbgQ4hbRrR4zSY/s320/international+brigade.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkiyVzB2zGP4POsDllw2LjdYnCLRPYR5rAqnaHyVgJRDN7hWiNmXdkws8LLbou7YEIVbBsCELMd0nvt2L_P5Tx3cjxYB5mPVpEzOFyNkoRVB8O_M0oWiw7iPu1Gmjlewrnjwqg0ndC4So/s1600/holocaust+memorial.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkiyVzB2zGP4POsDllw2LjdYnCLRPYR5rAqnaHyVgJRDN7hWiNmXdkws8LLbou7YEIVbBsCELMd0nvt2L_P5Tx3cjxYB5mPVpEzOFyNkoRVB8O_M0oWiw7iPu1Gmjlewrnjwqg0ndC4So/s320/holocaust+memorial.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
And now we have a series from a different kind of museum, or perhaps the museum is a different kind of cemetery. This is the Pere Lachaise again. The top picture is a couple of tombs from a row occupied by former leaders of the Communist Party in France (if I'm faking the French correctly). They have large sections of thematically linked tombs, at least in the newer parts, and one of these was former politicians, and within that CP politicians. Again, I was delighted to find communists treated like regular human beings, even honored for their service to country by being featured in this hallowed ground. Besides the individual tombs there were a LOT of memorials to mass deaths, including several airline disasters. The second picture above is a memorial to members of the International Brigade who died in the Spanish Civil War. Alex has been spending a lot of time in her class talking about that war, so this particular memorial hit home for me. And, again, it honors a bunch of Reds. The bottom picture is just one of more than a dozen memorials to Holocaust victims. These were mostly very grisly. Another thing I was especially aware of during our visit to Paris, no doubt partly because we were living in the Marais, was the Jewish tradition in Paris. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzyIbjOHrjdS1H8fQkqtKyuRWLqMZ-4dauWhgIBfmUNjPfLd9jcCkORm8mQdKg3SH8oU_tNPqHOZbvBGclAPk3CfWuOPNer0K4G-GjiANBc9QaVWfAABKE58DpXAAMQmTG66llL1X0W5I/s1600/Wilde%2527s+tomb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzyIbjOHrjdS1H8fQkqtKyuRWLqMZ-4dauWhgIBfmUNjPfLd9jcCkORm8mQdKg3SH8oU_tNPqHOZbvBGclAPk3CfWuOPNer0K4G-GjiANBc9QaVWfAABKE58DpXAAMQmTG66llL1X0W5I/s320/Wilde%2527s+tomb.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx7f6K0JPLYwSBaN9_RqCtWrf0XUwdg_KpviRqVRXndXYuGlFjFacorracqXO7OKX2dXyAppo4SKRVmxv6wbgI2RJux3zbNXIzlQbIG8X1ZL3tXNk6y3Ysq6zbLQIn3cIvRbWIVKnYh7E/s1600/view+of+Stein%2527s+tomb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx7f6K0JPLYwSBaN9_RqCtWrf0XUwdg_KpviRqVRXndXYuGlFjFacorracqXO7OKX2dXyAppo4SKRVmxv6wbgI2RJux3zbNXIzlQbIG8X1ZL3tXNk6y3Ysq6zbLQIn3cIvRbWIVKnYh7E/s320/view+of+Stein%2527s+tomb.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Of course we had to visit some of the celebrity tombs in Pere Lachaise. I found the contrast between these two particularly poignant. We had no trouble locating Oscar Wilde's gaudy memorial; the crowd around it helped, although it made it hard to get this picture without any people in it. Lipstick, flowers, graffiti--I trust he would have approved. His reported last words--"Either this wallpaper goes or I do"--were in a clue in a crossword puzzle I did that morning. <br />
<br />
By contrast, we had trouble finding the bottom one, and actually walked by it and had to go back a ways to pick it out. This is Gertrude Stein's tomb. Not the tallish one with the two little plants sitting on it, but the little one on the left. It could hardly be plainer or more severe (not unlike Stein herself), and there were no flowers or other contributions by visitors, except small pebbles on top of the headstone. That's pea gravel on top of the grave. No tourists around, so no problem keeping people out of the picture--her memorial, like her writing, appeals to a select few. The tomb on the left of Stein's (partly in the picture) was bigger (casting that large shadow), older, run-down; and who the heck is buried (or going to be buried) in the blank tomb on the right? This was for me perhaps the most moving moment in our whole morbid tour of the cemetery. <br />
<br />
But I don't want to leave you on that sad note. Like I said, the impetus for yet another Paris post was the fun we had tinkering with pictures, so here's another version of Frenchiness Frenchified, in which we have attempted to take the hokey-French level all the way up to 11. Au revoir.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgajUPi1aQ-PG5X0q99_knpsPUp-NfCvjIG3vPPeTF_P1Dk5Dl5zfcT3I_6rKmS_YPImlb9q44mcGPYuWsGdaHkRH3Ivu0jRWIcSPAV5Wk3Y5OtCgItCcXtdbFILKrL67FWRd-Xk3Efoyo/s1600/Frenchiness+Frenchified.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgajUPi1aQ-PG5X0q99_knpsPUp-NfCvjIG3vPPeTF_P1Dk5Dl5zfcT3I_6rKmS_YPImlb9q44mcGPYuWsGdaHkRH3Ivu0jRWIcSPAV5Wk3Y5OtCgItCcXtdbFILKrL67FWRd-Xk3Efoyo/s320/Frenchiness+Frenchified.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
</div>Eric Heynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13966355802850256623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3586986478569604901.post-84362739554550034762011-03-15T01:36:00.000-07:002011-03-15T01:36:08.448-07:00Another Paris post<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I wrote a different kind of blog entry while we were in Paris, in response to the death of poet John Haines while we were there, but it also includes details of our stay. You can access that post at the <a href="http://49writers.blogspot.com/">49 Writers</a> website--it's the featured post for Monday, Mar. 14. Warning--it's a bit long.<br />
<br />
I'll leave you with a couple more pictures from the Pere Lachaise cemetery. The first is Gertrude Stein's tomb, which is oddly bare, and we had actually walked past it the first time while looking for it. The second is just a cemetery in winter.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9PvwZp6Go66T-YD3JJIJzzyGJ7Tk-ZpfdajGgmH4v07TEqzrD0_5huuBcGgybuJZEgYMtb1XxWbKPelHqEmwtlow3ZpSUXzGxjEc_piDznLi7UOV5SMYHUH6mw_x7ZqKe9h5JaU4atok/s1600/Gertrude+Stein%2527s+tomb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9PvwZp6Go66T-YD3JJIJzzyGJ7Tk-ZpfdajGgmH4v07TEqzrD0_5huuBcGgybuJZEgYMtb1XxWbKPelHqEmwtlow3ZpSUXzGxjEc_piDznLi7UOV5SMYHUH6mw_x7ZqKe9h5JaU4atok/s320/Gertrude+Stein%2527s+tomb.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGPzexNDSoSBIq3JVmxHP_G1w10qjdLStCMQWcsfzPI-bE-PgmsA1qB4EeUyze1YbkF6pCdTQ_2qB_dg-O5jliNvMFx4hd3z04XmLaXg11uHnkfipyl5YWy4HmztsGXq_P5_hGnZehRwA/s1600/Pere+Lachaise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGPzexNDSoSBIq3JVmxHP_G1w10qjdLStCMQWcsfzPI-bE-PgmsA1qB4EeUyze1YbkF6pCdTQ_2qB_dg-O5jliNvMFx4hd3z04XmLaXg11uHnkfipyl5YWy4HmztsGXq_P5_hGnZehRwA/s320/Pere+Lachaise.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div>Eric Heynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13966355802850256623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3586986478569604901.post-83916862899239783602011-03-13T05:50:00.000-07:002011-03-13T05:50:16.561-07:00Bonjour Pa-ree (2)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">If you read the last post, you may be wondering where all the amazing art is, not to mention famous Paris scenes. We figured you could get better photos of such stuff than we were able to take (especially using no flash in museums). We <i>did</i> put a few links in there for you. These are just some of the photos we took that you probably won't be able to see elsewhere online. Now on to our second (and last) Paris installment. (Except that there will be a link to another one Eric wrote coming up, as soon as it's posted on the 49 Writers website next week.)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPIqBo9J9YfsYXR_92DEks5XM23FQvw5fn1DDRep8y3BegCODaFCcBxrZhcBHlg5ecLOC2vzBwb2fS_n4VxGvF-VBKL-0v5ZjuCDnd-kWIBA0MNeim3OuMES5Ve1BWzLCHKr_Vy105fEM/s1600/speech+bubble.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPIqBo9J9YfsYXR_92DEks5XM23FQvw5fn1DDRep8y3BegCODaFCcBxrZhcBHlg5ecLOC2vzBwb2fS_n4VxGvF-VBKL-0v5ZjuCDnd-kWIBA0MNeim3OuMES5Ve1BWzLCHKr_Vy105fEM/s320/speech+bubble.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">This tapestry came from the Cluny Museum. This is not the most beautiful tapestry, though. They had this set of tapestries that they found recently with unicorns on them. <a href="http://www.google.es/images?q=cluny+unicorn+tapestries&hl=es&client=safari&rls=en&prmd=ivns&source=lnms&tbs=isch:1&ei=maN8TYjRHoiYOubypZUH&sa=X&oi=mode_link&ct=mode&cd=2&ved=0CBAQ_AUoAQ&biw=1060&bih=719">Here's</a> a link to a bunch of pictures of them. My dad took pictures of a bunch of these with speech bubbles on them. I got my father an awesome porcupine postcard from one of the tapestries. <i>More</i> pictures.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZIZwc_ej5wc-ZVyuSvKtWGWxM2DRyC1ZOeOorjj31PURlSV5gxlklEZglSthcb7EeR1UnzHeSFgtvn198EsXVwHXG_x7SsLUWdH6_CAmf5lW6TSewDe9JjLwIvTfulc6Ga-cp8GormeI/s1600/chocolate+sculpture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZIZwc_ej5wc-ZVyuSvKtWGWxM2DRyC1ZOeOorjj31PURlSV5gxlklEZglSthcb7EeR1UnzHeSFgtvn198EsXVwHXG_x7SsLUWdH6_CAmf5lW6TSewDe9JjLwIvTfulc6Ga-cp8GormeI/s320/chocolate+sculpture.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6RWNHFxa9T7Qi3UlEwDNDwTyH9XtRGizOLD5B-uAmR23myzO2jjV8NYq6PIKHc_MAQn-QAd1rUcOCNZIjrefSr12eESJFAR8l3yx7dTUTdMefoYV8QVKw0LTtUUbem-yXn8O9gxrS5gc/s1600/Frenchiness+Frenchified.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6RWNHFxa9T7Qi3UlEwDNDwTyH9XtRGizOLD5B-uAmR23myzO2jjV8NYq6PIKHc_MAQn-QAd1rUcOCNZIjrefSr12eESJFAR8l3yx7dTUTdMefoYV8QVKw0LTtUUbem-yXn8O9gxrS5gc/s320/Frenchiness+Frenchified.jpg" width="320" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">Picture #1 is a sculpture...a chocolate sculpture</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"> we saw in a famed French chocolate store. </span>[I just had one of the pieces of fancy chocolate that we bought in that store.]<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"> Picture #2 is me eating chocolate wearing my beret by the Seine </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">with the Eiffel Tower in the background... my dad calls it </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><i>Frenchiness Frenchified. </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">[Seriously, could there be anything more French?]</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhALxJCRuIiZlp9LTSIpD8-oTdH-GPTWlE0DpO0hDZ5WNtuy3K56s8pfOOuxVAgjCgl-7XoMP-1j28ikmQmXMBsj36ylXK0TVLDZuIN-BAVr4euhOWUnHfm6qpVC-YPnHyUZF8p1GfcTn8/s1600/Shakespeare+%2526+Co..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhALxJCRuIiZlp9LTSIpD8-oTdH-GPTWlE0DpO0hDZ5WNtuy3K56s8pfOOuxVAgjCgl-7XoMP-1j28ikmQmXMBsj36ylXK0TVLDZuIN-BAVr4euhOWUnHfm6qpVC-YPnHyUZF8p1GfcTn8/s320/Shakespeare+%2526+Co..jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">And here we are in front of the famous <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JUpSR9fhQDM">Shakespeare and Co. Bookstore</a>. (This link has a video made by the bookstore itself.) I bought a book of poetry by Marilyn Hacker--I had to buy something, and this book of hers had poems written while she was living in the same neighborhood in which we were staying. I couldn't resist. Also, she uses form in interesting ways that I'm working with myself these days. </span>[Yay, rhyming!]<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"> Hey, not intentionally. After we all four made our way out of the shop, we sat for a while on benches out front and listened to the bells of Notre Dame just across the river. A very intense </span>[cheesy, Dad, cheesy]<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"> moment.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt7T-UpN_kuzF71pT08WQwEp21CPmA87CQrCpk9-pTak81Dy0-oAETRQxc9Dz8KAs37yZC_TotZ8T8W9JlHTHzhbVMgLHXpSCoUxLLt76_AjGebTGoJwOVuvz9_sNlb2ARw5JhjFxcNSs/s1600/Eiffel+Tower+through+things.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt7T-UpN_kuzF71pT08WQwEp21CPmA87CQrCpk9-pTak81Dy0-oAETRQxc9Dz8KAs37yZC_TotZ8T8W9JlHTHzhbVMgLHXpSCoUxLLt76_AjGebTGoJwOVuvz9_sNlb2ARw5JhjFxcNSs/s320/Eiffel+Tower+through+things.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNdSB8dnNFOCca0WJBV7kjafSjewrTT7BqPtWNwnPkPFgTrhHGOOobRQJmJC3LpRQpjoRK5OzSV42v-S_tAKxpY7pZN7a27Hzra5iAo0oE8CSAcoyJbL0-XsZuag0Y42i5lCDg1GEv3nQ/s1600/heads+on+bridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNdSB8dnNFOCca0WJBV7kjafSjewrTT7BqPtWNwnPkPFgTrhHGOOobRQJmJC3LpRQpjoRK5OzSV42v-S_tAKxpY7pZN7a27Hzra5iAo0oE8CSAcoyJbL0-XsZuag0Y42i5lCDg1GEv3nQ/s320/heads+on+bridge.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">I took these <i>fabulous </i>pictures from our touristy-tourist tourist boat. The first one is of the Eiffel Tower which I had an ambition to take a good picture of. This one is through two pillars at the end of the Royal Bridge across the Seine. The second picture, I think, is of the bridge Louis XIV built as an apology for the costliness of the palace of <a href="http://www.google.es/images?q=versaille&hl=es&client=safari&rls=en&prmd=ivnsm&source=lnms&tbs=isch:1&ei=HL18TbflCJGaOoXonP4G&sa=X&oi=mode_link&ct=mode&cd=2&ved=0CBcQ_AUoAQ&biw=1060&bih=719">Versailles</a>. "Sorry I built Versailles, here's a bridge." </span>[We did go to Versailles for a day, sans Julie, but the pictures there were taken by Alex and Annabel and we haven't yet transferred them off their cameras.]<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcfnS6BPHed3cZWqPqhVFd3__ratsW71qD5AFcw92g1-5S1F8fH2Jg9keqYQSVrq4m5ZKPaxmT_ICfM2TNLtV1J3aY-S7t2aEwiuH0XplmhiPXsLVnswQBX1RbdS3uXlBba1si1zgdPYA/s1600/Julie+and+Annabel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcfnS6BPHed3cZWqPqhVFd3__ratsW71qD5AFcw92g1-5S1F8fH2Jg9keqYQSVrq4m5ZKPaxmT_ICfM2TNLtV1J3aY-S7t2aEwiuH0XplmhiPXsLVnswQBX1RbdS3uXlBba1si1zgdPYA/s320/Julie+and+Annabel.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The last picture is from our last day, much of which was spent at Pere Lachaise Cemetery. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">[Gosh I look bad in that picture.]</span> I don't think she does. I loved watching Julie explaining art to Annabel in various museums, but I wasn't able to get a good picture inside without flash, so here's one of Grandma explaining why some people have so much fancier tombs than others. That, or explaining the movie <i>Rabbit Hole</i>. This picture gives a pretty good idea of the weather we had the whole time: sunny and a bit chilly. Prominently featured in this picture is the yellow leather purse that Annabel got in the Rastro flea market in Madrid a few weeks ago.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">I forgot--how do you say goodbye in French?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Au revoir.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">Au revoir, Pa-ree</span></div></div>Eric Heynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13966355802850256623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3586986478569604901.post-58294085396709114992011-03-12T01:07:00.000-08:002011-03-12T01:07:56.582-08:00Bonjour Pa-ree<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">That's a hokey song from <i>Funny Face</i>, which is set in Paris and which we watched a couple days before leaving. It's also a line Annabel belted out repeatedly in appropriately <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">touristish</span> locales.<br />
<br />
Let's jump right into the pictures, shall we?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwQ8i7P2r0vJNq5wO6bVUEDjrqjAm6EV7Q1xaWmoUFrFUIwvwWwYcjUokoICLogi-rxww1NoMKDlFLgSaGXJDdAlCkGM8iCTQCLwN19wm0tQb7fZdy8e4B4Cw7Zr_e_fMUjDYz-Wg5rQw/s1600/apartment.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwQ8i7P2r0vJNq5wO6bVUEDjrqjAm6EV7Q1xaWmoUFrFUIwvwWwYcjUokoICLogi-rxww1NoMKDlFLgSaGXJDdAlCkGM8iCTQCLwN19wm0tQb7fZdy8e4B4Cw7Zr_e_fMUjDYz-Wg5rQw/s320/apartment.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4oCO1J46I4PC1oyDuJDIxvkJahfSS9i-pyv18d9me7R1qGsa-uVNVBaAi0uBaOszOg1rsBIjvb6peCmE-pu0VblFSPl4YJ4t6Nt-WzIvKzhMvp-Omu8z3SJVqhHB8ClVevLaZJkQvn7k/s1600/our+street.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4oCO1J46I4PC1oyDuJDIxvkJahfSS9i-pyv18d9me7R1qGsa-uVNVBaAi0uBaOszOg1rsBIjvb6peCmE-pu0VblFSPl4YJ4t6Nt-WzIvKzhMvp-Omu8z3SJVqhHB8ClVevLaZJkQvn7k/s320/our+street.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">The first picture is moi in my awesome loft bed. </span> [As you might have figured out, Annabel and I are working on this together.] <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">The second picture is our beyond-quiet street in the Marais. As we were first walking from the Metro to our apartment, I was excited about all the fabulous jewelry stores. But when we came out on that street again, we began to notice that all the stores were wholesale and not retail. But we did do a lot of fabulous shopping while we were there. </span> [A lot.]<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggo1SKWvdeeqqFDA2JsvqfvCdoF1Mw-Xx6f3tXQnlbAjLTRtQ4dcjoLAMKPt-nkXxkMEmJmguiCHiJIQotZUha52CIUHM9niL1zrDOg6qaq4RxFMITOArJtZN1a8z8KtM55PLAiJgIxyQ/s1600/St.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggo1SKWvdeeqqFDA2JsvqfvCdoF1Mw-Xx6f3tXQnlbAjLTRtQ4dcjoLAMKPt-nkXxkMEmJmguiCHiJIQotZUha52CIUHM9niL1zrDOg6qaq4RxFMITOArJtZN1a8z8KtM55PLAiJgIxyQ/s320/St.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JMa_vo7KoOUddcAQeuLXJz3Ti7QSUaSV8LFPaIXPDI57dMI99-nDMXym5NJki9sBrUKlMdgL7YQc5eq7NO-dwhcrvZjik61lewY4qyFJIsxPs3q0mwsnxJiduPl5k2LyjNX3oHQ-lfA/s1600/archpriest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7JMa_vo7KoOUddcAQeuLXJz3Ti7QSUaSV8LFPaIXPDI57dMI99-nDMXym5NJki9sBrUKlMdgL7YQc5eq7NO-dwhcrvZjik61lewY4qyFJIsxPs3q0mwsnxJiduPl5k2LyjNX3oHQ-lfA/s320/archpriest.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">The first picture is the beautiful church </span><a href="http://www.google.es/images?client=safari&rls=en&q=ste+chapelle+paris&oe=UTF-8&redir_esc=&um=1&ie=UTF-8&source=univ&sa=X&ei=GjN7TaztNcqeOpCeraoH&ved=0CEAQsAQ&biw=1060&bih=717"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">St. Chapelle</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">, which could learn a few lessons from Versailles about getting people through metal detectors more quickly. We stood there for an hour and a half and it was freezing cold. We had sunny cool weather the whole time. The second picture is from Notre Dame. </span> [We loved the idea of obeying the "Archpriest," whatever the heck that is--sounds like something from a comic book.] <span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO7HgxBCKqzQSUI_K2sS2ncb3iChic6fL-gDTCQTsUZg_KApw8rUz8fD50m3ONSr1gUwkqW7Y2BX3Jt4xepEFSvmVC6oKP0kLjzSkke5zPSVxg4XE27NFvjhBj8c3CnaFqQxeK-7AYwRc/s1600/locked-up+angel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO7HgxBCKqzQSUI_K2sS2ncb3iChic6fL-gDTCQTsUZg_KApw8rUz8fD50m3ONSr1gUwkqW7Y2BX3Jt4xepEFSvmVC6oKP0kLjzSkke5zPSVxg4XE27NFvjhBj8c3CnaFqQxeK-7AYwRc/s320/locked-up+angel.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRbV1bDnn5aiGp6OKn9pvlMqMfN7CEyANwXiRJ5C-OlrQXqKHUueoPmG1b5bcfPfoPLijep0At37aY9BhpGhKxQs1UwFk8ZwvsvMoMklHVfsBlb9Qrl_AJ6zVaKMGCccIgBBfA3DvIb6w/s1600/lord+of+the+rings+ghosts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRbV1bDnn5aiGp6OKn9pvlMqMfN7CEyANwXiRJ5C-OlrQXqKHUueoPmG1b5bcfPfoPLijep0At37aY9BhpGhKxQs1UwFk8ZwvsvMoMklHVfsBlb9Qrl_AJ6zVaKMGCccIgBBfA3DvIb6w/s320/lord+of+the+rings+ghosts.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Another one from St. Chapelle. Apparently they have captured and imprisoned one of the Weeping Angels (from <i>Doctor Who</i>)--that's the only explanation we can think of for this bondage sculpture. And the second one is outside Notre Dame--Annabel thinks this statue was used as the conceptual model for the ghosts in <i>Return of the King</i>, and I'm inclined to agree with her. (Blow it up a little to really get the similarity.)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfd4iOm4hXtP1oAHnaHDhxxSCa9NZdp6IU4wCbFaNqf9bY2ciQcs11TR22Yswkrd-JYYSj34xrW8cA2jZeKONSxCXsaIqQkJGJ1cIVtXB9UNIRuOQ1PdHE0qE4g1KVc-cehAl5xoHk_8E/s1600/machete+martyr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfd4iOm4hXtP1oAHnaHDhxxSCa9NZdp6IU4wCbFaNqf9bY2ciQcs11TR22Yswkrd-JYYSj34xrW8cA2jZeKONSxCXsaIqQkJGJ1cIVtXB9UNIRuOQ1PdHE0qE4g1KVc-cehAl5xoHk_8E/s320/machete+martyr.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
As if that weren't enough for a busy morning, we managed to take in the <a href="http://www.louvre.fr/llv/commun/home.jsp?bmLocale=en">Louvre</a> (well, part of it) in the same afternoon. Perhaps you've heard that the Louvre is a <b>large</b> museum? We didn't see even half of it, and you can find much better versions of the famous stuff we did see online. But maybe you won't find this particular martyr online--I thought it was especially appropriate for an Alaskan audience, as it appears to be martyrdom by machete. [<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">Why is that particularly Alaskan?</span>] I have to admit that she has a point there. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3-wl9cxWiiNzYL45J98NcctHUf5RlMaVgUYEZdATNnRrbOK3L0Z4MQNVGR4fpjnFpBOku78wRZp9XdoABjhweniu6_K8PAZ3YQc86Aj5uz7teYXcDpITHvtmPgQh-DF0W8P0wXTuqsW8/s1600/Pompidou.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3-wl9cxWiiNzYL45J98NcctHUf5RlMaVgUYEZdATNnRrbOK3L0Z4MQNVGR4fpjnFpBOku78wRZp9XdoABjhweniu6_K8PAZ3YQc86Aj5uz7teYXcDpITHvtmPgQh-DF0W8P0wXTuqsW8/s320/Pompidou.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">This is the fabulously awesome Pompidou Center. You had to take this awesome clear tube escalator so you felt like a hamster, and when you got to the very top you could see all over the city of Pa-ree. I liked the Surrealism. And the Cubism. And the Miro. And everything else.</span><br />
<br />
That's enough for now. All the pictures are swirling around in our heads and we're having trouble remembering where we saw what. We loved our 6-day museum passes (not to mention that Annabel was free everywhere). We'll come back at you later with particularly <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">awesome </span>pictures.<br />
<br />
</div>Eric Heynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13966355802850256623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3586986478569604901.post-61149765764332278722011-02-06T08:37:00.000-08:002011-02-06T08:52:22.204-08:00These are the people in your neighborhood, your neighborhood, your neigh-bor-hooood<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Hi there, Annabel and Eric here to give you an update on the neighborhood. There will actually be more buildings than people, but so it goes. Yo. Let's start with the morning, and some of the folks we wait with at the bus stop.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZCe4fqFdUGnUP-WNcGHIdZ6B-9uG9zWprZ3PLBGY3I1Ra4-9P6QAcK19BY8tQdsDrkdEyUjM9FeTHOdqAyam4e2NEG3prSGNA3FauuOLCD8ZbsHSKzx4LSxF8Vw8sM19K8LJF9c3ZSlE/s1600/morning+bus+crowd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZCe4fqFdUGnUP-WNcGHIdZ6B-9uG9zWprZ3PLBGY3I1Ra4-9P6QAcK19BY8tQdsDrkdEyUjM9FeTHOdqAyam4e2NEG3prSGNA3FauuOLCD8ZbsHSKzx4LSxF8Vw8sM19K8LJF9c3ZSlE/s320/morning+bus+crowd.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSfg7H2Kvsv2SA7mi7sTniVm98nkqC2yu71GbF6AV5g4ZLbk4sbRV33BYQd45O-DG65m1qnS2RkxEhptaC-MmTk1pO8ElO0_6Vt-3lfw9A6veJ0W4ORhwcfcWLRxm3p2dzpFknToQkr7s/s1600/Aitana+%2526+Amanda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSfg7H2Kvsv2SA7mi7sTniVm98nkqC2yu71GbF6AV5g4ZLbk4sbRV33BYQd45O-DG65m1qnS2RkxEhptaC-MmTk1pO8ElO0_6Vt-3lfw9A6veJ0W4ORhwcfcWLRxm3p2dzpFknToQkr7s/s320/Aitana+%2526+Amanda.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
This isn't the full crowd, but it's the ones who are usually there waiting for the bus to the Colegio Ingles. The bottom picture features Annabel's friend Aitana and her amazingly adorably beyond cute little sister Amanda.<br />
<br />
Bonobus. <br />
<br />
[Random comments such as that one are from Annabel. That is, by the way, the name of our city bus pass.]<br />
<br />
Back in 2004 Annabel and Aitana were the only two kids who got on and off at this stop, and by coincidence that only other kid happened to be in Annabel's class, and we became friends with her family. But the school has more than doubled its enrollment in the last seven years, and now there's a fair crowd at the bus stop, sometimes different folks in the morning and afternoon, "los padres (y abuelos) de la parada."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKzbiGkvy49sLV0914H9W3z35U_eGVQNLJ7LmZJgIMxNeb9agdYEoQB2tqPQ1JdludTnOiy9sSELD3uKI4oJ5jA-o9BTxQ2YW1Crh2qS4KI8xTwe1c-hK8pF2sMcm-6iSohotpM1nXg5E/s1600/Oviedo+%2526+mountains.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKzbiGkvy49sLV0914H9W3z35U_eGVQNLJ7LmZJgIMxNeb9agdYEoQB2tqPQ1JdludTnOiy9sSELD3uKI4oJ5jA-o9BTxQ2YW1Crh2qS4KI8xTwe1c-hK8pF2sMcm-6iSohotpM1nXg5E/s320/Oviedo+%2526+mountains.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuYKX6kKo1zuEhyEqfX0zrQGKU8H9bkXSLRwtj2tg7_VRroq9jVoLN8oetqF5_Oej0tOgcruWbG3nq8-9ONVWEXQt118ONfJjXaY6MaWyus3MB6u39j89DVdYCW5yFdAiw93-HMWCBzMI/s1600/neighborhood+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuYKX6kKo1zuEhyEqfX0zrQGKU8H9bkXSLRwtj2tg7_VRroq9jVoLN8oetqF5_Oej0tOgcruWbG3nq8-9ONVWEXQt118ONfJjXaY6MaWyus3MB6u39j89DVdYCW5yFdAiw93-HMWCBzMI/s320/neighborhood+view.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
These are a couple of views from our neighborhood, one looking south toward the cathedral and the center of the city, with the Cantabrian Range in the background, and the other looking west at some new apartments and an old church up behind our apartment, with the local viewpoint hill, Naranco, in the background. You may just be able to make out the giant Jesus on the left along the skyline.<br />
<br />
Swatch.<br />
<br />
We'd like to kick our new soccer ball around that field in the foreground of the top picture, but it's primary function is to service dogs, and even if we exercise our futbol skills to dodge the poop, it's hard to forget about all the pee everywhere that we can't see. Plus people look at us funny when we walk on the grass, even though there are no rules against it. We saw some young people throwing frisbee on that grass this afternoon, and we knew immediately that they were Americans, for any number of reasons, but including the fact that they were playing on that grass.<br />
<br />
Onion.<br />
<br />
Annabel has started dance class, but it's a mixed class, half ballet and half Spanish (flamenco) dance. She likes learning the new stuff, and also the more relaxed atmosphere that allows students to wear somewhat more varied dance clothes. The skirt and shoes and castanets in this picture are, however, required.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0dWaoOU0glbHwkAIPZKJLdwYeBV2nTNchHTRjcS6mVHyAwacqe3fIcYgYnO-K7zmEsfgvwoERneA23KSEerxuBd2UdOoQNZv-8tXZ_7C44c9q5_-PrmpR6wrRHeRu0ifVdFecQ3Jkipw/s1600/flamenco+girl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0dWaoOU0glbHwkAIPZKJLdwYeBV2nTNchHTRjcS6mVHyAwacqe3fIcYgYnO-K7zmEsfgvwoERneA23KSEerxuBd2UdOoQNZv-8tXZ_7C44c9q5_-PrmpR6wrRHeRu0ifVdFecQ3Jkipw/s320/flamenco+girl.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
That one was taken in our living room, of course. Time to go back outside. And then time to go back inside, to Annabel's room.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrIPgJunnMKvUiqh9F07LcLJVn30Oue61bPkDnO5umFOvewbQfhw7JAHaVrtns8GiGlLATa9Kcku0uxJjbqm6_TuqNmg5zONutPK6bU62-KaIV-iErdUgw9fEi9SptNB7b2TvwT0gWU84/s1600/hotel+Carbayon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrIPgJunnMKvUiqh9F07LcLJVn30Oue61bPkDnO5umFOvewbQfhw7JAHaVrtns8GiGlLATa9Kcku0uxJjbqm6_TuqNmg5zONutPK6bU62-KaIV-iErdUgw9fEi9SptNB7b2TvwT0gWU84/s320/hotel+Carbayon.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBaphPGxIBRb_b9Yi_737i_FgzPrKkGnA2P_FsiiUPI2mX3ARVCOP5HGR3ox-NDRjTu5cLNa82oO7IPb0EPtGHTcADdY0mZxrF6gzjvoLy7L-DcaFgHeO0j3bIO0ZoJr8vxj7LQtUdrOs/s1600/Dr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBaphPGxIBRb_b9Yi_737i_FgzPrKkGnA2P_FsiiUPI2mX3ARVCOP5HGR3ox-NDRjTu5cLNa82oO7IPb0EPtGHTcADdY0mZxrF6gzjvoLy7L-DcaFgHeO0j3bIO0ZoJr8vxj7LQtUdrOs/s320/Dr.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The Hotel Carbayon, in that reddish building in the top picture, is where you'd stay if you were visiting us (and where some of you will stay when you visit us), but I like this picture also because it shows a couple of attractive buildings in the neighborhood. Such an astounding contrast between Athens, where almost all the buildings are the same cream color, and Oviedo, where there is an effort to make almost every building look different from the ones around it.<br />
<br />
Tennis racquet.<br />
<br />
And finally, Annabel in her room in front of her beloved Dr. Who poster.<br />
<br />
and now ME!!(Annabel)Dad got it wrong.It's DOCTOR who not DR.who. Dalek... EXTERMINATE!!!!!!!!!<br />
<br />
<div dir="rtl" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div></div>Eric Heynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13966355802850256623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3586986478569604901.post-55185368350128896372011-02-03T08:24:00.000-08:002011-02-06T08:44:50.381-08:00In Catalunya<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">The major excursion of the semester for Alex's students was last weekend in Barcelona, and a very good time was had by all. Eric even managed to play Magic, although it cost him mightily in karmaesthetic points--he missed seeing the interior of the <a href="http://www.sagradafamilia.cat/docs_instit/images.php#">Sagrada Familia</a>, which Annabel said was the most amazing place she'd ever been in. Of course, he also missed out on the 3-kilometer-long line to get in...<br />
<br />
At least I got to see lots of other Gaudi, including the interior and roof of the <a href="http://www.virtualtourist.com/travel/Europe/Spain/Catalunya/Barcelona-274654/Things_To_Do-Barcelona-Casa_Mila_La_Pedrera-BR-1.html">Pedrera</a>, which Julie and I passed on last time we were in Barcelona because of the long line. Not this time--no line at all. You have the official tourist link, but I'll stick in a few of my own pictures of this truly astounding apartment building.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCOJGSDbT6pjJ_3UjYf3sIWlf-r6O-6mLWWO67vVuQYARlY8U-YYJfxdfljFif9jpZOV4kvCDFyi8w_tHQUJHJRu8W_V4KSVN8U5ywgDX3XP-OlZqSm09axN3PZzX92RwkYDSebDU_zVU/s1600/Pedrera1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCOJGSDbT6pjJ_3UjYf3sIWlf-r6O-6mLWWO67vVuQYARlY8U-YYJfxdfljFif9jpZOV4kvCDFyi8w_tHQUJHJRu8W_V4KSVN8U5ywgDX3XP-OlZqSm09axN3PZzX92RwkYDSebDU_zVU/s320/Pedrera1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDTHjP9WCdjpXDhvcIVoQiARsv_wC94eogYSPJfIqIlJzLbaPmyg0KSyZ-BaG0AbNHUUY1uicyjilsq-BoLtEIbpSZ70aeKf2vXihH2GyZZt4hcvB3nAHmfjo2s0re8qvZ21WnCaUZo9g/s1600/Pedrera2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDTHjP9WCdjpXDhvcIVoQiARsv_wC94eogYSPJfIqIlJzLbaPmyg0KSyZ-BaG0AbNHUUY1uicyjilsq-BoLtEIbpSZ70aeKf2vXihH2GyZZt4hcvB3nAHmfjo2s0re8qvZ21WnCaUZo9g/s320/Pedrera2.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq97h2GX9_eq7EHcN81s3k6WcglOqwU2zvqC1FNecKYSVfpkBViUyt3dHCNJks9cHlQZZCrcqMQzKohU2TBegMnOdbwivjSkiR4XFWALEYa5GjBXHT8xA3GwFwfkSDfvzNFmtdha0Z9cI/s1600/Pedrera3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq97h2GX9_eq7EHcN81s3k6WcglOqwU2zvqC1FNecKYSVfpkBViUyt3dHCNJks9cHlQZZCrcqMQzKohU2TBegMnOdbwivjSkiR4XFWALEYa5GjBXHT8xA3GwFwfkSDfvzNFmtdha0Z9cI/s320/Pedrera3.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3XG_K_7U4G1zHOiXITp_JY2ilKoPo5aaIAo3DNUiADHtBC5J-ezLhm6Wbx12VvtvCx-ic72rDhZmq_XmNeQ0puWvIN8MZJ6eRHKGc90b6via6PpH6GsOkzIF88UloPwNtHQC0lg0wrhs/s1600/Sagrada+from+Pedrera.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3XG_K_7U4G1zHOiXITp_JY2ilKoPo5aaIAo3DNUiADHtBC5J-ezLhm6Wbx12VvtvCx-ic72rDhZmq_XmNeQ0puWvIN8MZJ6eRHKGc90b6via6PpH6GsOkzIF88UloPwNtHQC0lg0wrhs/s320/Sagrada+from+Pedrera.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhED0QLeHqWltnjZinhHlNnKwwIe5iRTDlPqSjxYs3qIFvk4Za1_DRmoJaouCv_wPaMz1mNjNbDsCk8XM4JyhYDrhFwZTQ6ohaP7s2USQzQCYNiUdAnKHnarAZqOZqycakfoEbuQtjL1sw/s1600/kids+on+Pedrera.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhED0QLeHqWltnjZinhHlNnKwwIe5iRTDlPqSjxYs3qIFvk4Za1_DRmoJaouCv_wPaMz1mNjNbDsCk8XM4JyhYDrhFwZTQ6ohaP7s2USQzQCYNiUdAnKHnarAZqOZqycakfoEbuQtjL1sw/s320/kids+on+Pedrera.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Apologies to Ryan for the group shot--it was the only one of all of Alex's students that also had Annabel in it. (Don't worry, I've got better ones to pass on to Ryan.) And of course the second-last one isn't the Casa Mila, it's the Sagrada Familia <i>from</i> the Casa Mila. Nice when your fabulous works of architecture happen to have amazing views of your other fabulous buildings, no?<br />
<br />
We had wonderful food the whole time we were in Barcelona, better than we've had in Spain so far, but it did make me think about how important food has been to me during these months abroad. I seem to spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about it, buying it, eating it, cooking it, and looking around for the best opportunities to do any of those things. I have the buddha belly to show for it, but it also makes me wonder how much of a hedonist/materialist/gourmand/meat-puppet I've become. If I'd been putting a fraction of the time I've spent in pursuit of good food into writing poems, for instance, I'd have produced a whole Greco-Spanish book by now.<br />
<br />
We stayed in what we came to call "the hostile" with the students, with reservations made by AHA, and I remembered the first overnight excursion back in 2004 in a loud and cramped hostel, then opted out for better digs on subsequent Oviedo excursions. (In La Corunya in 2004 we were extremely lucky and got a free upgrade at our hotel to a room with spectacular windows and a view of the dolphins in the harbor the next morning.) I have a new appreciation for the one- and two-star hotels into which the Athens Centre booked us on our Greek excursions, and I apologize now, well after the fact, for taking those accommodations for granted.<br />
<br />
One of the highlights of the trip for me was having a couple of beers with Raul Rabionet i Janssen, a senior Magic judge with excellent language skills who welcomed me to Barcelona and to Spain. For those few readers of this blog with an interest in Magic, he happened to win a Sealed PTQ in which a bunch of senior Spanish judges played just for fun, and now finds himself on the other side of the table, as it were, preparing to play on the Pro Tour. Jim, this could be you one day!<br />
<br />
The best thing about our hostel was the location, right in the Barrio Gotico, just a couple of blocks of Las Ramblas. We had a lot of fun just walking around, especially up and down Las Ramblas. I didn't always have my camera along, but Annabel got this picture of the best of the many "statues" that were posing along the promenade. Don't ask me how he does it--my best guess was some kind of giant magnet.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmaRE0jGK6ffggv_HTM63fYpuwAtfh_i6tljBjCpXtP8MMYwfh3EO-UuaxNljNeqQ0umfYumJAtY-TWk-gw4Ny5YjK72risWCWhpUsZPGql3dq25bzHNY937orcGBuDK8_z9JIObLxxzU/s1600/floating+mime.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmaRE0jGK6ffggv_HTM63fYpuwAtfh_i6tljBjCpXtP8MMYwfh3EO-UuaxNljNeqQ0umfYumJAtY-TWk-gw4Ny5YjK72risWCWhpUsZPGql3dq25bzHNY937orcGBuDK8_z9JIObLxxzU/s320/floating+mime.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
We are not generally fans of these statue-performers--too much like mimes--but it was fun just mixing in the big city crowd, especially at night, and Annabel really liked watching some of the painters and dancers.<br />
<br />
On our last half-day we went over to Barceloneta, the neighborhood where we stayed with Julie for a week in 2007, just to visit our old digs. Of course we had some excellent seafood, and even managed a little bit of beach time, although bundled up and some distance from the crashing waves. I'll leave you with one of the pictures I posted on Facebook. (It looks deceptively calm out there, but there were actually some very big waves booming in, and a few surfers to watch.) Hasta pronto.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipJXeVNVJ26JVlASb1J8GzRt08j7-OuVjZMnh4ojNyEz1FbamDKsNMSlbXxEX2am6tAplove0FAI9xq8iMloSCV7SXeLDUKpU8TXJOmNNQRMUk9fd2rlc4D-gvYgMUEdP1Ka2t2d6gsXM/s1600/E+and+Abel+on+beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipJXeVNVJ26JVlASb1J8GzRt08j7-OuVjZMnh4ojNyEz1FbamDKsNMSlbXxEX2am6tAplove0FAI9xq8iMloSCV7SXeLDUKpU8TXJOmNNQRMUk9fd2rlc4D-gvYgMUEdP1Ka2t2d6gsXM/s320/E+and+Abel+on+beach.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
</div>Eric Heynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13966355802850256623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3586986478569604901.post-11648909098320429022011-01-23T23:35:00.000-08:002011-01-24T08:41:53.443-08:00One Night in Gijon<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">It was a quiet day in Lake Wo--... whoops, I mean, Oviedo. <br />
<br />
We took a family trip north to Gijon this weekend, so that Annabel could attend a birthday sleepover, Eric could play Magic, and Alex and Eric could go out on the town. Despite being only about 25% larger than Oviedo, Gijon has a different vibe, a little hipper, a little more funky. Oviedo is one of the most conservative, clean (multiple winner of the Platinum Broom Award for cleanest city), and buttoned-up cities in Spain, whereas Gijon seems to be a little more open about its working-class, dockside roots. Annabel semi-joked about the tall buildings and empty streets (on Sunday), saying it reminded her of a post-apocalpse horror movie. I didn't see any particular architectural distinction from Oviedo, and Alex and I had fun speculating about various flats for sale while Annabel insisted she could never live in such a spooky place.<br />
<br />
Everyone had a great weekend, despite some nasty cold, wet weather. Annabel had tremendous fun at her sleepover, an unusual event for Spanish folks who don't ordinarily entertain in their homes, and don't ordinarily have homes in which seven girls can sleep over comfortably (each on her own little fold-up cot). I was very sorry not to see the house, which Annabel described as gorgeous and overlooking the sea. (As you can tell from <a href="http://www.google.es/images?q=pictures+of+Gijon&hl=es&client=firefox-a&hs=ntv&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&prmd=ivns&source=lnms&tbs=isch:1&ei=phk9Tc7mM4S08QPipYHWCA&sa=X&oi=mode_link&ct=mode&cd=2&ved=0CBgQ_AUoAQ&biw=1440&bih=597">these</a> pictures, the sea is a prominent feature of the Gijon landscape.) She said it reminded her of Rosemary's house on Paros, which is a heck of a compliment as those of you who read the Paros blog entries will realize. The birthday girl's mother was apparently one of those incredibly fun and cool and industrious parents who put together complex games with prizes for the party, games that are actually fun for the kids. Alex always expresses amazement at such mothers, while I try not to point out too strenuously her own amazing-fun-mom accomplishments.<br />
<br />
Alex employed her extraordinary trip-planning skills to find us a cheap and cool hotel right in the middle of the old district, and while I played Magic she had time to do a little shopping. (She happened on some amazing reddish-brown wingtip Camper boots, in her size!) I returned and we headed back out at a very reasonable Spanish hour, about 9:00, had a drink in a bar near our house, then walked over to check out a couple of restaurants that she read about online. We had another glass of wine in one of them and looked out over a small plaza filled with hundreds of underdressed teenagers going in and out of bars and milling about in the nasty cold weather. We had to weave our way through hundreds more of these teenagers in the course of that evening, moving in packs through the streets everywhere in our district, including crowded around the door of a bar across from our hotel. We indulged our fuddy-duddy-parent natures while watching these kids, criticizing their high heels, short skirts, and lack of layers. The whole heel thing is absolutely amazing--teenager after teenager tottering around on three-inch spikes. And there is this crazy Spanish fashion at the moment involving short-shorts and thin stockings, popular even with young adult women, and even in the coldest weather. Personally, I don't get it--it's ugly and impractical and skanky. You'll just have to imagine the depths of Alex's disdain.<br />
<br />
As morbidly interesting as the spectacle was, eventually we had to move on, after deciding that neither menu at the places we'd scouted really appealed to us. We went back to an Italian restaurant we'd passed that seemed busy, and indeed it was--no table available until midnight, we were told. So we went across the street in a little bit of a funk, and discovered what turned out to be a fantastic restaurant, well worth the forty-five minute wait in the bar (where we stretched out our single glasses of wine, by now feeling the effects of three drinks and no dinner at 11:00). <br />
<br />
Boy did we feel Spanish, still eating dinner at almost midnight! And afterwards it was only two blocks to our hotel, although we did have to maneuver around the horde of teens. Their noise was, thankfully, just a dull background rumble from our hotel room.<br />
<br />
The morning was beautiful for a while, sparkling, with a rainbow over the harbor while we had coffee near a little church I wrote a poem about back in 2004. Then we stopped at a gallery built from an old palace, to see the work of the painter Barjola (whose wife was from Gijon). We spent some time at the seawall overlooking the sea, where the tide was out and there was plenty of room for the dozens of gleeful dogs who were dashing about on the beach and entertaining onlookers like us. Annabel was returned to us there, bubbling with stories about the sleepover, and we went underground to look at the <a href="http://www.spain.info/en/conoce/museo/asturias/termas_romanas_de_campo_valdes.html">Roman baths</a> that we'd first visited in 2004, where Annabel became enamored of ancient ruins and where our family mythology developed what turned out to be the very important distinction between Romans (who take baths, use utensils, etc.) and Barbarians (who are very, you know, <i>barbaric</i> in their personal habits). It was fun for us to revisit our own family history as well as ancient Roman history. However, having just spent three months in Greece, Annabel's perspective on Romans had shifted significantly: she now thinks of <i>them</i> as the barbarians.<br />
<br />
By the time we came back up from underground, the weather had turned nasty again. We bought a couple of cute Asturian presents/souvenirs and had lunch at that Italian restaurant we'd seen the night before, then picked up our bags at the hotel and walked up to our bus just as it was about to leave for the thirty-minute ride back to Oviedo. A very fun weekend was had by all, though it went by too quickly, and now it's time for another week of school. A short week, as Annabel will miss Friday for our excursion to Barcelona. Hasta pronto.</div>Eric Heynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13966355802850256623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3586986478569604901.post-43093187496807374342011-01-18T02:44:00.000-08:002011-01-25T12:55:57.864-08:00Back home in Oviedo<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">It certainly does feel like home. Same apartment, same neighborhood, same furniture, most of the same restaurants and stores. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFtyzWh4xYwnWA7T32fLRyAiQZqP6oyQprIYLOt6RRlIj9e891pnlcs27WHb6J0n2y2OZRYAI1gjRySnLb84gPxCkn5_iD5gV5ityoXUKEhEDP9VgII_SJ-8s4UE3HuypvOkT6DVsgZjc/s1600/apartment+in+Oviedo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFtyzWh4xYwnWA7T32fLRyAiQZqP6oyQprIYLOt6RRlIj9e891pnlcs27WHb6J0n2y2OZRYAI1gjRySnLb84gPxCkn5_iD5gV5ityoXUKEhEDP9VgII_SJ-8s4UE3HuypvOkT6DVsgZjc/s320/apartment+in+Oviedo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
(Our apartment is roughly in the middle of this picture.)<br />
<br />
Even the same school for Annabel! Well, it turns out that this part of life is in fact very different this time. Entering a new school at 11 is a lot more traumatic than doing so at 4. Back then she was hardly aware of not speaking the language, and picked it up quickly with no conscious effort. This time she knows how much she doesn't know, and hates not being able to understand what's being said around her. <br />
<br />
And the classes are a challenge, for a variety of reasons. English and Math are sometimes extremely boring, Spanish and French and Social Studies (all taught in Spanish) are so difficult that she's been assigned tutors to work on her own beginning Spanish and French. Only P.E., Music, and Art are just right. But the worst "class" of all is lunch. She has to eat the hot lunch from the cafeteria, as all students do, and the teachers make her eat what they consider enough of each course (technically only half) before allowing her to move onto the next (and eventually to be dismissed to recess to talk to her friends). It's a shock to the system of a non-Spanish self-proclaimed picky eater. Although her pickiness is much reduced these days, her tastes do not extend to <i>everything</i> on the lunch menu. <br />
<br />
The friend situation, luckily, is going well. She almost never sees her old friend Aitana and other old classmates, unfortunately, because they put her in a lower grade, the one where her birthdate is supposed to locate her (partly because her old class was full and had already turned down other students). Her old class is the first year of secondary but she's been placed back in the last year of primary, and the two have different schedules entirely, including the breaks, so she only sees Aitana on the bus to and from school. (Moreover, those lucky secondary students are not in thrall to the lunch police, and they get to have lockers, and...well, you get the idea.) But she's made three friends in her new class, including one native English speaker, and already has a sleepover party invitation for next week, thirty miles north of here up in Gijon.<br />
<br />
So, on balance, the classes are trying, the friends are great, the lunch is awful. Add in the fact that she hasn't been subjected to the discipline of a long school day since last May, and you can perhaps understand that Annabel is not a happy camper.<br />
<br />
At least she loves the uniform, even though she misses not being able to wear other clothes to school. Isn't she cute?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5jHpFZlk8GuQJHQeoMMq-Z-5M8KgEEYVxR8E1L0p6uKNuXKiY0a11SLGxN7kh8BzJ_EGWGDuQ3mRMTNjZE-gZnk7SuZZ2J0aKdNI_2Gfp98SI5K2i76fZ12tj5byZZ-RmPkcWVOA2X7I/s1600/track+suit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5jHpFZlk8GuQJHQeoMMq-Z-5M8KgEEYVxR8E1L0p6uKNuXKiY0a11SLGxN7kh8BzJ_EGWGDuQ3mRMTNjZE-gZnk7SuZZ2J0aKdNI_2Gfp98SI5K2i76fZ12tj5byZZ-RmPkcWVOA2X7I/s320/track+suit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
This is her doing homework in the "track suit" version of the uniform, for the two days a week when they have P.E. A more formal version of the uniform will no doubt appear in a future blog. <br />
<br />
We had our first excursion out of town this weekend, to the shrine of Covadonga and the cute coastal town of Ribadesella. It was sponsored by the local international student organization, and we went with all six of our students as well as forty more students from several different groups. Alex and I were the only "older" people on the trip, and the representative of the student group who was supposedly in charge of things was more interested in talking to his girlfriend that providing any information about the places we were visiting. (To be fair, he was not an expert in those places, being himself from Peru, but he <i>had</i> lived in Oviedo for several years and was nominally in charge of the operation.) We were forced by ice on the road to change the itinerary and abandon the leg of the trip that would have taken us up to the beautiful lakes in the mountains above Covadonga. But as you can see, we still saw some beautiful sites, including both the mountains and the sea. (There's a taste of the thick fog we traveled through in the picture of the church at Covadonga.)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW4DRdA4nbkd3k0cXgvTg8jn25rjrVzspO2skpnUxrSE6xxvG73S2LpmQCTcgGRyXZAhX9NMKOi7zSiiEzmo20WMJNHSANfi237w9klGEt60tXoUvdeasqDMIITpCak36tBMSe83NjqEA/s1600/Covadonga+and+fog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW4DRdA4nbkd3k0cXgvTg8jn25rjrVzspO2skpnUxrSE6xxvG73S2LpmQCTcgGRyXZAhX9NMKOi7zSiiEzmo20WMJNHSANfi237w9klGEt60tXoUvdeasqDMIITpCak36tBMSe83NjqEA/s320/Covadonga+and+fog.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWsKNtZldjiOObt_PheupOvRKJmE_-ILtlexI02-D88RcncDnO32L65204KXe3nP0YkgVjzYwqnqdq0NXWhO_zDOeUKUJrb9axvvqjogY22EjRMesJuxS_w4xGEzQ1N3upIzX0x1Z38BE/s1600/Riba+de+Sella.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWsKNtZldjiOObt_PheupOvRKJmE_-ILtlexI02-D88RcncDnO32L65204KXe3nP0YkgVjzYwqnqdq0NXWhO_zDOeUKUJrb9axvvqjogY22EjRMesJuxS_w4xGEzQ1N3upIzX0x1Z38BE/s320/Riba+de+Sella.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Annabel and I did a little beachcombing, since we wouldn't allow her to swim in the North Atlantic in January (what horrible parents!), and I'll leave you with a final shot of her in the purple hat she bought that day in the market in Cangas de Onis.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYke7QiBxVTV1FHqM_Su-x2J6wv9zc-QGGI-OkI-u7KLyf7YRDwb-l-n1Tldm3nvHO7opVx7c-mBmq3S-CuUslT8kh8VGJLgqdtsn5t0gw1DefaFrJCdWEFG56l8BXloHwfqeLUqyoN-s/s1600/beachwalking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYke7QiBxVTV1FHqM_Su-x2J6wv9zc-QGGI-OkI-u7KLyf7YRDwb-l-n1Tldm3nvHO7opVx7c-mBmq3S-CuUslT8kh8VGJLgqdtsn5t0gw1DefaFrJCdWEFG56l8BXloHwfqeLUqyoN-s/s320/beachwalking.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div>Eric Heynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13966355802850256623noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3586986478569604901.post-88036670435479740332010-12-30T10:10:00.000-08:002010-12-30T10:10:54.069-08:00A month in the States--Happy New Year!It's been an entire month since we checked in with our intrepid travelers. They made a successful transit from Athens to Seattle, although it involved Julie holding the flight for us while we struggled through security and raced through the airport. (I've finally been unintelligibly paged in Charles de Gaulle airport--I can cross that off my life list!) After a few days of jet-lag recovery in Seattle, we headed to Kansas City for a week with Alex's relatives (mom Beverly, stepdad Steve, dad Jonathan, brother Evan, sister-in-law Amy), punctuated by shopping, visits to the <a href="http://www.trumanlibrary.org/">Truman</a> and <a href="http://www.theworldwar.org/s/110/new/index_community.asp">National World War I</a> museums and <a href="http://www.nelson-atkins.org/">Nelson Atkins Art Museum</a>, more shopping, and finally Alex's birthday celebration. Jonathan was a fabulous guide for Annabel through the history museums, especially the WWI museum, as military history is one of his greatest interests. Annabel also got to go swimming at a small water park with her dad and Uncle Evan. Then we saddled up for the return flight to Seattle, which felt ridiculously short and easy, and in a few days were joined there by Galen, who stayed until Christmas Eve. Wait, that's a whole lot of words and miles--what about a picture or two?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFB2FWU75iCpo4j-Aun8uMiezSlAEowpPt9gODRTLFfpdaxHHB325vgaUe-IZmdu6xvRuohL7Sc7DXnMug2XGOBpCmwvDMABbTqPWUC35erEb4vj0HxfK_BaAsgNJcDafHgdSAG-QvdPM/s1600/cousins+on+a+log.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFB2FWU75iCpo4j-Aun8uMiezSlAEowpPt9gODRTLFfpdaxHHB325vgaUe-IZmdu6xvRuohL7Sc7DXnMug2XGOBpCmwvDMABbTqPWUC35erEb4vj0HxfK_BaAsgNJcDafHgdSAG-QvdPM/s320/cousins+on+a+log.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVoKZJjQgzNZ4EVUe62ZPuRhlwGiSi6iUH5FCqfITOXTTj5m5WQGrBLEjpIHPKACN5ruli6iyquSM8yOnjAwjS-SgyB70KU5GfK6TO99Mhp2kPv64SYD_CtXgy4RP2wTVITMFZnteLnM8/s1600/boys+on+XBox.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVoKZJjQgzNZ4EVUe62ZPuRhlwGiSi6iUH5FCqfITOXTTj5m5WQGrBLEjpIHPKACN5ruli6iyquSM8yOnjAwjS-SgyB70KU5GfK6TO99Mhp2kPv64SYD_CtXgy4RP2wTVITMFZnteLnM8/s320/boys+on+XBox.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Although it may not look like they're having fun in the top picture, we did actually have a good time at Lincoln Park, although it was cold enough to drive us off the beach before too long. Which cousin is missing in the bottom picture? Annabel actually asked her brother to teach her how to play the Call of Duty or whatever game they were playing, so she wouldn't be left out, but she hasn't taken to it yet. In the top picture that's Quin on the left, Annabel, Galen, and Chace on the right.<br />
<br />
We're having a marvelous time here in Seattle, with lots of laughs, golf (with Bill Russell playing in the foursome right behind us!), downhill skiing, beach walks and ferry rides, a big Picasso exhibition at the Seattle Art Museum, movies, plenty of dog and cat fur, rapid changes in the weather, rivers of good booze, and all the ordinary amenities of the good old U. S. of A., like dryers and NFL games on TV and traffic that stops for pedestrians. We're enjoying it while we're here, but looking forward to heading off to Oviedo in a few days. What makes it so easy to spend a month living out of suitcases with our relatives is the incredible hospitality of those relatives, especially Lauren and Leon, starting with their decision to tear down their garage and build a new structure that includes guest space. I could give you a picture of that space, but perhaps instead I'll supply an icon of my sister, Ste. Lauren, patron saint of hospitality and protector of all international travelers (or at least those that happen to be related to her). <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnZghEjYNLQ6uiWrQD_hJw3ZnOJBd1Rhe6vonC8Kks0oO9cfiKytZgQAFhoAPsrZ04-JZQuuGhyX6gKf05JZ0lmveYvifpG1vqjLjSHYQsKD2yOBCompUCXSVb4mer92FkXcP2kFEKbKA/s1600/Ste.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnZghEjYNLQ6uiWrQD_hJw3ZnOJBd1Rhe6vonC8Kks0oO9cfiKytZgQAFhoAPsrZ04-JZQuuGhyX6gKf05JZ0lmveYvifpG1vqjLjSHYQsKD2yOBCompUCXSVb4mer92FkXcP2kFEKbKA/s320/Ste.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I hope none of you were trapped for long in airports this storm-wracked holiday season. I wish we could send the Fairbanks folks some of the relatively warm air we've been breathing, but you'll have to settle for our best wishes for a happy new year.Eric Heynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13966355802850256623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3586986478569604901.post-13986080411848269512010-11-30T06:44:00.000-08:002010-11-30T06:44:06.939-08:00Points, High and LowIt's our bad luck to be suffering through a garbage collectors' strike for our last couple of weeks here. Unfortunately, it precisely coincides with my mom's time in Greece, and it's getting more and more unpleasant for her to walk the few blocks between her apartment and ours. I had to correct myself just now and say "garbage <i>collectors</i>' strike"--of course we all call it the "garbage strike." If only that were so, and the garbage was itself refusing to accumulate. What the heck would happen if garbage went on strike? Would we be unable to open packages or cut up vegetables, or would it just all refuse to be put in the bin, or would it be just like what we have, nothing actually going to the landfill? Technically the strike just ended, but it's going to take a while to catch up on the backlog.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjorBwWHRpq0h2WHPDKNTvnyJSiUoKnHwzt4UULRMF5D7fV9M-QByOYiS140CdD_dUAC2Cw3fEQ1QwwiVjCtjjkXRagRn5I54srlfpkXco9KdfvGESbYQt4C0TymjPDX1CHcIC38AP4csY/s1600/garbage+and+graffiti.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjorBwWHRpq0h2WHPDKNTvnyJSiUoKnHwzt4UULRMF5D7fV9M-QByOYiS140CdD_dUAC2Cw3fEQ1QwwiVjCtjjkXRagRn5I54srlfpkXco9KdfvGESbYQt4C0TymjPDX1CHcIC38AP4csY/s320/garbage+and+graffiti.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
This picture gets the graffiti and the garbage all in one shot. Our apartment is just around the corner to the right, by that orange and green striped awning (which is a store that sells awnings, by the way).<br />
<br />
Of course, it's not like Athens was all that sweet-smelling in the first place. It hasn't rained now for a couple of weeks and so the poop is piling up as well. It's probably a blessing that we haven't had one of those ferocious hard rains, actually, as I'd hate to see what that would do to the garbage piles. And while we're on this subject, Julie (my mom) did <i>not</i> read all of my blog entries before coming to Athens (what kind of a mother is <i>that</i>, I ask you?), and so was surprised to learn of the no-paper-in-the-toilet policy, and naturally doesn't love the interaction of that policy and the garbage strike. <br />
<br />
But perhaps least of all does she like the traffic patterns by which pedestrians have absolutely no rights. Because of the trash piles she walks in the middle of the street, but that means lots of people honk at her as they gun their vehicles in her direction. She swears that if she were to move to Athens, she would engage in a crusade for pedestrian rights. As a loving son who wants to see his mother live many more years, I'm very glad she's not moving to Athens anytime soon. Meanwhile, one more less-than-flattering view, to give you a sense of how much you have to stay on your toes while walking in Athens, looking up to make sure you don't smack into tree branches and down to make sure you don't splat into poo.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0iKt_3vlUoH8Pjzlb3sR5xZ8PQFQhzTA7sK_h_8jyAB2XgfiKthshwjbEgrOxvDREpaqqSwl36H6NPeSoWT23UDKLEfVvCbw6CRRd56NR_ydwjdElPSdiKRNnNAedqcuGQFqj4ZSAGRA/s1600/poop+and+trees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0iKt_3vlUoH8Pjzlb3sR5xZ8PQFQhzTA7sK_h_8jyAB2XgfiKthshwjbEgrOxvDREpaqqSwl36H6NPeSoWT23UDKLEfVvCbw6CRRd56NR_ydwjdElPSdiKRNnNAedqcuGQFqj4ZSAGRA/s320/poop+and+trees.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
We've been revisiting some of the sights while Julie's been here, places like Aegina and Delphi and the Acropolis itself, and it's interesting to go back with more information than we had the first time. It's sort of a test to see how much we've retained of what Michael has taught us, almost like a final exam for his class (which we don't have to take, thank goodness). It's also a chance to fix particular things in memory. I don't believe I really know a book until I've read it twice, and in some ways it doesn't seem like I can begin to know a place until I've been there at least twice.<br />
<br />
But the list of places we'll be able to see again is growing very short indeed, as are our days in Greece. Less than a week left. Time to be eating up everything in the cupboards, throwing in the trash rather than the laundry those clothes that are not returning with us to the States, deciding which restaurant we really have to go to one last time, and thinking about which pictures you might want to see from our time in Greece that you haven't yet. One of those is a view (or two) of the temple of Poseidon at Sunio, a gorgeous place that Annabel and I visited on excursion and that I was hoping to show Alex and Julie, but now realize we won't make it back to. The sanctuary is on a high headland sticking out into the Aegean at the southeastern tip of Attica, another of those amazing locations for sacred places that the Greeks selected back when they were openly practicing paganism.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbqIB36UskCNtWhmgeMa6w0-B-SyncjnSEKYr6hkA-Ch1WTmwcAowmJly8qCpK6Tv568b0jZmattFMsJ1_dUYXIOmPKqq_cHCNR8NbvyQt7iD5z2QZ06ajkyoF6uBpPf9T7WyMYuCp2Xc/s1600/Sunio1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbqIB36UskCNtWhmgeMa6w0-B-SyncjnSEKYr6hkA-Ch1WTmwcAowmJly8qCpK6Tv568b0jZmattFMsJ1_dUYXIOmPKqq_cHCNR8NbvyQt7iD5z2QZ06ajkyoF6uBpPf9T7WyMYuCp2Xc/s320/Sunio1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCCcmhfvc54FhduvPmI2DZQGWhO6Q4GWxkU8tszSldzVdxAU1gYICK2-r_zncnY4bmxw-ZZxyZaYTdIbD6C0n-45lwgT9k_tIRnSOscEDVvmMiQ8p_2ft24QDizupuIgK_rdtAFU2AXzU/s1600/Sunio2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCCcmhfvc54FhduvPmI2DZQGWhO6Q4GWxkU8tszSldzVdxAU1gYICK2-r_zncnY4bmxw-ZZxyZaYTdIbD6C0n-45lwgT9k_tIRnSOscEDVvmMiQ8p_2ft24QDizupuIgK_rdtAFU2AXzU/s320/Sunio2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Nice postcards, eh? There have been tourists here for a long time, of course. The pillars and stylobate are covered with graffiti, some of it by celebrities. Zoom in on the center of the next picture and check out that lighter spot. I'm guessing it's lighter because so many people rubbed their hands on it before our more enlightened times when the tourists are roped off from the temple itself.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3ytxyIVXHtKDxzBFZmGhq6JCEcgjLDZVxS77fM5fR4duK9z4Je22FsmT38HC6xcU5gYPVwOBXuvc0I3Na70H6B-qmKNoT57rKS6Tmki9BEm2eG_Evklm6YmEzGFVM3Y0exDbT7z-CZVM/s1600/Byron+grafitti.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3ytxyIVXHtKDxzBFZmGhq6JCEcgjLDZVxS77fM5fR4duK9z4Je22FsmT38HC6xcU5gYPVwOBXuvc0I3Na70H6B-qmKNoT57rKS6Tmki9BEm2eG_Evklm6YmEzGFVM3Y0exDbT7z-CZVM/s320/Byron+grafitti.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The trip to Delphi with Julie was especially nice because the weather cooperated. When we first got there Zeus was flinging around his thunderbolts, and they echoed over Parnassus and down around our heads in a most suitably scary fashion. But while we were in the museum the weather blew over and we got a gorgeous afternoon back out in the sanctuary of Apollo Pythias, including a hike for me up to the stadium (which had been closed off the first time we came) while Julie sat and sketched down by the temple of Apollo and the treasury of Athens.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAhJtYwDbL2MRrUv1g1p3TclB7t3BHCf4bvRZfU_dCrLPDnvX9tlXNDjnwUy2jCe-DphxAbkogLIB9giREgxDrcqzhkBlM7YbCs-igtT9hlNiUCBc4s5Ojx0GmOI75R4I3YM-F8eCmyjA/s1600/Delphi+from+above.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAhJtYwDbL2MRrUv1g1p3TclB7t3BHCf4bvRZfU_dCrLPDnvX9tlXNDjnwUy2jCe-DphxAbkogLIB9giREgxDrcqzhkBlM7YbCs-igtT9hlNiUCBc4s5Ojx0GmOI75R4I3YM-F8eCmyjA/s320/Delphi+from+above.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi18WL-bt1T-oWdjzCQzpaAnnJ_Jpmh7tV7Jmhd5nTKQ5eh-MUjTMjd0BfGQA-IuvYFjdSPtoBOohaafxRNQPq3J1KUmzGvFtJHw2UiOqKp7SlXt-pwLf8Aavr8ZznBoxLnNEV3aHNtY-I/s1600/treasury+of+Athens.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi18WL-bt1T-oWdjzCQzpaAnnJ_Jpmh7tV7Jmhd5nTKQ5eh-MUjTMjd0BfGQA-IuvYFjdSPtoBOohaafxRNQPq3J1KUmzGvFtJHw2UiOqKp7SlXt-pwLf8Aavr8ZznBoxLnNEV3aHNtY-I/s320/treasury+of+Athens.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
At the bathroom/cigarette break our bus took, at a cafe rest stop on a hill just outside Livadia, I looked back at the sun setting behind Parnassus, which from that distance I could see as indeed one very big mountain, rather than the whole range of mountains it appeared to be from Delphi. There was snow in the valleys near the top, though we'd been warm in T-shirts on the site after the sun came out. Our whole bus ride back through the Greek hills as the dusk gathered was powerful. It got dark about the time we got to the flatter country and the bigger highway. I wished I'd had my camera out near Athens when we passed a large, well-lit sign that said "EuroDrip." It was fun to speculate on what the heck that place made or did.<br />
<br />
Our first visit to the island of Aegina was the very first weekend we were in Athens, before the program had actually started up, and before I'd read page one of my copy of <i>History of Ancient Greece</i>. We did one of those I'll-take-your-picture-and-you-take-ours swaps to get a shot of all of us with the temple at Aphaia in the background, on another flawless day, just before we headed back down to Agia Marina for what looks like it will be our last dip in the ocean in 2010. The whole town was closed up, the beach was covered with trash and seaweed, and it looked nothing at all like it looked that first weekend. But the water was still warm and beautiful. The best place we saw on Aegina was something we missed the first time, Paliachora, the inland Byzantine town site where folks moved to get away from the pirates, and where there's nothing left but 34 churches, in varying states of disrepair, but all (including the most ruined) still containing icons and other signs of their status as active shrines. This is Greek Orthodox culture at its most pagan, and incidentally provided Annabel and me with some first-class scrambling. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMsRjTLoF2NzmH4WkFH93ZgKa2p47YXD-txEGRaFIE0N2Vgr_WEi4lNeev7OsY67_b9VWvYk6lyTevkvjT5K5tU5htzx8fPhXHm1jakL5q5vj5vSN5Yjti9s1Qp4OzGMOBIfXyPPE_zUA/s1600/with+Julie+at+Aphaia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMsRjTLoF2NzmH4WkFH93ZgKa2p47YXD-txEGRaFIE0N2Vgr_WEi4lNeev7OsY67_b9VWvYk6lyTevkvjT5K5tU5htzx8fPhXHm1jakL5q5vj5vSN5Yjti9s1Qp4OzGMOBIfXyPPE_zUA/s320/with+Julie+at+Aphaia.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbNa4zlrn_ZnmkVoONJHc689FTVK7SQ_Du5sccvahfksZjW6qt2R2GBX9mMzlcChHaFmFsn5BD1bVjKz0Y0ej3IJZUbe0ywJsB4nP5oDzWSdurZDDIMm_Y-aVUhACuUHGb92tHdyLoXoo/s1600/Paliachora.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbNa4zlrn_ZnmkVoONJHc689FTVK7SQ_Du5sccvahfksZjW6qt2R2GBX9mMzlcChHaFmFsn5BD1bVjKz0Y0ej3IJZUbe0ywJsB4nP5oDzWSdurZDDIMm_Y-aVUhACuUHGb92tHdyLoXoo/s320/Paliachora.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Julie has been taking lots of photographs of the kinds of places she likes to make paintings of, mostly urban decay and odd angles and colors, and for the last three months I've generally avoided posting pictures of that sort, although I've taken plenty, generally while thinking, "This is the kind of thing Julie would just love to paint." Now that she's had a crack at them for herself, I can post a few of my pictures of graffiti and odd walls and the jungle of plants poking out from under the awnings on the upper floors and things like that.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEEILSfwdqg3ySxanRgJIJSeAwKaU2-nDi23OeEeihRQ3wvJtmnyt76N0DFbUi2BKequbb4NKjMcchkCqZXgepk-eQbQ3gZsq6sJ74BvXxvHIg-wbvAzjNQvaJjKCjuRHZo0bLEJyRvfk/s1600/local+grafitti1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEEILSfwdqg3ySxanRgJIJSeAwKaU2-nDi23OeEeihRQ3wvJtmnyt76N0DFbUi2BKequbb4NKjMcchkCqZXgepk-eQbQ3gZsq6sJ74BvXxvHIg-wbvAzjNQvaJjKCjuRHZo0bLEJyRvfk/s320/local+grafitti1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF7nvOsYp-26XtLiDOTeM4lwJeldRI-y3nEm0mPIet-kZ9Hpm6QYoZcpUZHXUBw3d8WQKnh834ioN32WzjEHlww4PFLYL6hxnJrA9X4q-ESURhqcbLDX2mDOIceXiVHYVQedkFHn6chK4/s1600/full+foliage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF7nvOsYp-26XtLiDOTeM4lwJeldRI-y3nEm0mPIet-kZ9Hpm6QYoZcpUZHXUBw3d8WQKnh834ioN32WzjEHlww4PFLYL6hxnJrA9X4q-ESURhqcbLDX2mDOIceXiVHYVQedkFHn6chK4/s320/full+foliage.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
There's a cantina at the port with a sign that Alex loved and just had to add to her collection, for professional reasons, of course. Luckily on this last trip to Aegina we had a camera ready as we passed by on our way to the ferry.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjra8sMscow9vRml3KeuOGYPVbid6UyKO2Xo7RvybWLP_hyphenhyphena_JStvANJK9IOxoBSHNsKlo7jtKMSfXguWgZBIbOYYYhVzBvXPtEo61DD52gnpl34wYq7XO-RzQZTL12-b0qn6CgF27Vr4o/s1600/snancks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjra8sMscow9vRml3KeuOGYPVbid6UyKO2Xo7RvybWLP_hyphenhyphena_JStvANJK9IOxoBSHNsKlo7jtKMSfXguWgZBIbOYYYhVzBvXPtEo61DD52gnpl34wYq7XO-RzQZTL12-b0qn6CgF27Vr4o/s320/snancks.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
There haven't been a lot of obvious clues that the seasons are changing while we've been in Athens, but one that I very much appreciated was the grapevines turning bright red. Now all the leaves have fallen off and the vines are bare, but for a couple of weeks they were gorgeous.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYUSbZbN3U7HclDOGipULp_jzox4rJ4lqmToto8YeqAZRwWALbMj3xI7oYXDls3ILVQyQ_Ow8-T2zB4ldMAo332eErdcBmihGXSwySCbrCDhCsMiVolR9Bwxc-J5xWuebUQypMaz7BJE0/s1600/red+grape+leaves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYUSbZbN3U7HclDOGipULp_jzox4rJ4lqmToto8YeqAZRwWALbMj3xI7oYXDls3ILVQyQ_Ow8-T2zB4ldMAo332eErdcBmihGXSwySCbrCDhCsMiVolR9Bwxc-J5xWuebUQypMaz7BJE0/s320/red+grape+leaves.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
This vine ran up three stories on a house we pass by often en route to Syndagma, the central square. These are merely decorative vines, I assume, since the grapes are tiny. But they grow everywhere, along with bougainvillea and several species of flower and flowering tree that I can't identify. I get tired of ducking under the trees as we're walking on the sidewalks, but while they were flowering, it was worth it. And some of them are still flowering. There are olives everywhere, falling ripe from the trees, which seems entirely normal, but there are also oranges ripening everywhere, and limes, and that seems very odd for November. In fact the oranges are kind of a mess wherever they are ripening and falling on the street, squishing and rolling. I'm torn--I like being in a place where the oranges apparently fall from the trees all winter, but I don't like having more things to dodge on the sidewalks.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXn-suLcZOGS63jAqaW7xDFcATFU7JdN-uC8x9TYQzjMLacrThcV3xAqDp5pU93zjQafxV9sfHYGn7Il6CBdAc1JtsFYmWQpLMPh5MlM2o17sF8twRb_OPzmVHY9zD6k7CQd9VD-yQgnY/s1600/oranges+on+the+street.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXn-suLcZOGS63jAqaW7xDFcATFU7JdN-uC8x9TYQzjMLacrThcV3xAqDp5pU93zjQafxV9sfHYGn7Il6CBdAc1JtsFYmWQpLMPh5MlM2o17sF8twRb_OPzmVHY9zD6k7CQd9VD-yQgnY/s320/oranges+on+the+street.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
At least here the oranges are out of the main thoroughfare. I'll leave you with a couple shots from "Cemetery A," the oldest in Athens, adjacent to Julie's student apartment and just a half-dozen blocks from our house. I'd been vowing to go there for months, since it was closed the first time we tried, and I finally made it today. It was much more interesting than I'd imagined, and now I want to get back one more time before we go, but likely won't. The pictures I took deserve their own blog entry, and may get one, but you'll have to settle for these for now.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZszoLkF5J4UxQ_IWzivttcbYqmZRJPsRwOVBB-P14N5uyrPM0pyirFVDi4HU2yhiaehIuFxzFLIPQ234AhY2BWpcaD-35eeEFjbgMxWZAkquc6LVQl_LCpFn4sJCuPExPV5sBzRX5CUo/s1600/pensive+three.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZszoLkF5J4UxQ_IWzivttcbYqmZRJPsRwOVBB-P14N5uyrPM0pyirFVDi4HU2yhiaehIuFxzFLIPQ234AhY2BWpcaD-35eeEFjbgMxWZAkquc6LVQl_LCpFn4sJCuPExPV5sBzRX5CUo/s320/pensive+three.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYte_HpAd8hLmqTZ_7KlQ2Bozurn4FAbIfzQ3Gf8Rl-x7y45YQDdm3PQU4b3zFJCoqB0SZxVR8hJGg1ANEThWAda0c2RB4JwSMsw5xHKVrglQUTjOGn-gHvBITgMmsNNCd6LLmtvT3zL4/s1600/happy+bronze.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYte_HpAd8hLmqTZ_7KlQ2Bozurn4FAbIfzQ3Gf8Rl-x7y45YQDdm3PQU4b3zFJCoqB0SZxVR8hJGg1ANEThWAda0c2RB4JwSMsw5xHKVrglQUTjOGn-gHvBITgMmsNNCd6LLmtvT3zL4/s320/happy+bronze.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguGUzsgGKI9xCVNTU_3jcYpEuPcIEhD03HHcEvJXbKDDEh6jgllj6ALyiJgY57iH_p6MJhp09FpoeLlYccKNwf2RJ1Zn9Vhu-oD2iF3-lIEhCtQ0fhGhrqSU41jtdEuyFonT-QRk96lgQ/s1600/well+tended+dead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguGUzsgGKI9xCVNTU_3jcYpEuPcIEhD03HHcEvJXbKDDEh6jgllj6ALyiJgY57iH_p6MJhp09FpoeLlYccKNwf2RJ1Zn9Vhu-oD2iF3-lIEhCtQ0fhGhrqSU41jtdEuyFonT-QRk96lgQ/s320/well+tended+dead.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Eric Heynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13966355802850256623noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3586986478569604901.post-49916483624396578132010-11-25T07:46:00.000-08:002010-11-25T22:59:23.865-08:00Pretty, pretty Peloponnese (2)When last we saw our intrepid travelers, they were still only partway through their first day in the Peloponnese. Don't worry, the next three days will go by a lot more quickly. We finished our day in Nafplio, briefly the capital of newly independent Greece before Athens inherited the mantle, and it's an utterly adorable little town, with a cute harbor, a former prison island in the harbor, a ruined castle on the hills above the town, and a gi-normous fortress atop an even larger hill even further above the town. We never made it up to the higher, bigger fortress, which was closed anyway, but we had a blast wandering around the castle remains above the town, crawling through tunnels and along the battlements, exploring paths through the brush, peering over parapets and straight down hundreds of feet to the sea--you know, really keen stuff. I couldn't believe that we could just walk into long tunnels built into the thick walls with no signs or warnings or explanations of where we were headed or anything. It wasn't like a tourist site--it was like my 10-year-old fantasy playground. I'll just give you one picture, which I took the next morning, because Annabel has not yet supplied me with her pictures--she carried her camera that first day and I didn't.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDEUmp-Wmv3wp2w1hX6pLJS3DSOwWRIGS4zx2bVWq-GIa-ChWHnUF0Av20-beHPeMd1hCMCuqj0VOEeIi1-EH8i4rPtyjmRE2f1pFIyP7q9g2AeysU9BG6IXYY4rfX0Jd6qAQUTXcp8Rs/s1600/Nafpoli+castle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDEUmp-Wmv3wp2w1hX6pLJS3DSOwWRIGS4zx2bVWq-GIa-ChWHnUF0Av20-beHPeMd1hCMCuqj0VOEeIi1-EH8i4rPtyjmRE2f1pFIyP7q9g2AeysU9BG6IXYY4rfX0Jd6qAQUTXcp8Rs/s320/Nafpoli+castle.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDl9In86t4R2cv_MNjY-70BzF1UCsokox0LCgmy4LnlmISdDH6q4SqHufICovAto1O6Bdi7PjhgIBekGOiUbHIrY7noBYvKx0WKEz9_Mk8T9UXtBXnlTjyWqX3i9eOdRmw6E41sA63wCA/s1600/Nafpoli+beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDl9In86t4R2cv_MNjY-70BzF1UCsokox0LCgmy4LnlmISdDH6q4SqHufICovAto1O6Bdi7PjhgIBekGOiUbHIrY7noBYvKx0WKEz9_Mk8T9UXtBXnlTjyWqX3i9eOdRmw6E41sA63wCA/s320/Nafpoli+beach.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
The next morning, when I took these pictures, we spent an hour or so at the beach, where Annabel was only allowed to wade, but where the fabulous rock-hunting almost made up for not being able to swim. <br />
<br />
I kind of hated to leave Nafplio--I can see why it's the most popular weekend destination for Athenians--but we still had lots to see. This was Sunday, election day round two, and some sites were closed, hence the relaxed schedule and our opportunity to wander around for the entire morning. Nafplio is on one side of a peninsula, with the castle on top looking out to the water both directions, and this beach on the other side of the peninsula from the town. We took an attractive, relatively new walkway all around the base of the peninsula, although we'd heard that it was closed. Turns out on the <i>other</i> side, the town side, there were signs to that effect, and warnings of falling rock. But from our side this was the first notice we had of anything potentially hazardous.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxTwRiEP4cNVuqywTXRYHG0kLhDYeM28PMfkIqMO-DtlPBXKcfNdofEe82AAyPPA-dJbOKyRO5B_LUowBY7WywoCeNkNB9sTwwJy-Z8bHFYQ4vHhVdKpvFcOE3yiltd8NWTwRzGGtga3I/s1600/pedestrian+walk+closed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxTwRiEP4cNVuqywTXRYHG0kLhDYeM28PMfkIqMO-DtlPBXKcfNdofEe82AAyPPA-dJbOKyRO5B_LUowBY7WywoCeNkNB9sTwwJy-Z8bHFYQ4vHhVdKpvFcOE3yiltd8NWTwRzGGtga3I/s320/pedestrian+walk+closed.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The drive from Nafplio was gorgeous, up into and through the mountains, to a small town way up in Arcadia, the <i>original</i> Arcadia, with nothing around but sheep and farms, and almost nothing open, although the proprietors gladly opened up their restaurant for our bonanza of thirteen customers (seven students, three Fitts-Heynes, Michael, Vassia our Athens Centre rep, and Vangelis our skilled driver). There was one other thing nearby, a temple of Apollo that was lost, found, lost again, found again, and is now being carefully restored under the biggest and most heavily engineered tent I have ever seen. Barnum and Bailey have nothing on this particular attraction.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUKGCMSNb1DHHfhyphenhyphenNtgVCqZKK5-p_CqvnpKYbNmiAq7cEeTZDo4NnLt27eUdQGawS1C_-Qk2H-JWDXFMqf8o-jB38N7SgclI5kunPulONIpEv2qU23G59MKzxw5F6XWSO3yfb7_C6XnGA/s1600/tented+temple.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUKGCMSNb1DHHfhyphenhyphenNtgVCqZKK5-p_CqvnpKYbNmiAq7cEeTZDo4NnLt27eUdQGawS1C_-Qk2H-JWDXFMqf8o-jB38N7SgclI5kunPulONIpEv2qU23G59MKzxw5F6XWSO3yfb7_C6XnGA/s320/tented+temple.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6JAJa2CAa2yVzujBAD7pvZFrIbenq2qt22Tx_HgIY4C3tgtbMMenVRhDJ4N5lSq5zBd21ujmUxrPgK_VgtWSCb_df5zYMS87Qjrjn_hHsroMq0Gl_GKIX9E5sPj6u4v2HrbZSxmaIWCM/s1600/temple+in+tent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6JAJa2CAa2yVzujBAD7pvZFrIbenq2qt22Tx_HgIY4C3tgtbMMenVRhDJ4N5lSq5zBd21ujmUxrPgK_VgtWSCb_df5zYMS87Qjrjn_hHsroMq0Gl_GKIX9E5sPj6u4v2HrbZSxmaIWCM/s320/temple+in+tent.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Our twenty-minute drive from Andritsen to the temple passed by a number of circular stone threshing floors, dramatic features in the landscape since ancient times, but no longer used for their original purpose, of course. Michael filled us in on their role in Greek culture, including supporting annual dances celebrating the harvest, leading Greeks to dance in circles even to this day. Here's a picture of one (the stones here covered with grass, so not as dramatically set against the landscape, but in the middle of a working farm--I accidentally captured the farmer in the picture), and another shot of the very cute pension in which we stayed in Andritsen.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCWZ-Eih1C9XaaRUDNQaYyhOyQ_H0gOO5g-vqMAPA5qU5DSS6Qk0sVpuGCOic_jgp_AcjrezvcSD6kkNnZSH-AcZcGi4D8gaPlLkp44oJc7s8o3KjUEWRw_nMr6i1Fdwy28nDFTMc6B-Q/s1600/threshing+floor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCWZ-Eih1C9XaaRUDNQaYyhOyQ_H0gOO5g-vqMAPA5qU5DSS6Qk0sVpuGCOic_jgp_AcjrezvcSD6kkNnZSH-AcZcGi4D8gaPlLkp44oJc7s8o3KjUEWRw_nMr6i1Fdwy28nDFTMc6B-Q/s320/threshing+floor.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhni5XBvG8v_aSJLiXWRP_CTcxMhwlKsY_Hdywxe6tw-IM2WPenFDlNd-gI2MjGdW0GK0Wa8ksEQ8tyXeWDZQn4gOpUp-Na7hSAESt31aqxTpILIwbPhPgYh3gk-cIkIsdMSKP3USNIcA0/s1600/pension+in+Andritsen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhni5XBvG8v_aSJLiXWRP_CTcxMhwlKsY_Hdywxe6tw-IM2WPenFDlNd-gI2MjGdW0GK0Wa8ksEQ8tyXeWDZQn4gOpUp-Na7hSAESt31aqxTpILIwbPhPgYh3gk-cIkIsdMSKP3USNIcA0/s320/pension+in+Andritsen.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The next morning we drove through some more beautiful mountains, then dropped to the coastal plain and the wide river valley on which Olympia sits. When we pulled up to the site, we could hardly make our way to the gate for all the tourist buses and hordes of people with numbered stickers on their lapels. Turns out that Mondays and Thursdays are the cruise ship days. Luckily for us, they were all just finishing their tour and heading for lunch. Once we'd fought our way through all the people streaming in the opposite direction, we found ourselves almost alone in the huge site. One of the highlights is, of course, the ancient Olympic stadium, the real Olympic stadium. Annabel challenged all comers to a run, but only Courtney was brave enough to take her on. Here they are at the starting line (cut in the stone) and then posing together on the winner's podium stand.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsGch8rbb-1xPrD83ExPwy6UWgYhe-8u6pt9ZupRwnNKuoDFm-TDt4JTWElHgp4iTMVUl2Y4amYeKY31Wi3P2BdK74Mpn7ru9wwY04shieyd7-4QvaYi-5lGdfM8p-_0csGiImU-ys4CI/s1600/starting+gate+at+Olympics.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsGch8rbb-1xPrD83ExPwy6UWgYhe-8u6pt9ZupRwnNKuoDFm-TDt4JTWElHgp4iTMVUl2Y4amYeKY31Wi3P2BdK74Mpn7ru9wwY04shieyd7-4QvaYi-5lGdfM8p-_0csGiImU-ys4CI/s320/starting+gate+at+Olympics.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYXXT7P7hvieONGByt4bzJPrCwB9FH6_4NLDoSciNrXQP_kmTHuZihrkVvfB1XbRwGfgP_6EqTFFrDhf7-Sm6TVsQN4SLh1JvoLMIat0gpXRe5XXsh9KA0qLLF_I8iQegimpqzODHeRFg/s1600/Olympic+victors.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYXXT7P7hvieONGByt4bzJPrCwB9FH6_4NLDoSciNrXQP_kmTHuZihrkVvfB1XbRwGfgP_6EqTFFrDhf7-Sm6TVsQN4SLh1JvoLMIat0gpXRe5XXsh9KA0qLLF_I8iQegimpqzODHeRFg/s320/Olympic+victors.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The site was impressive in size and quantity of ruins, but I really would have had no idea what I was looking at if it weren't for Michael's guidance. For instance, the altar of Zeus was just an ash pile where the remains of the burnt offerings were left, and into which small offerings of clay and bronze were thrown. Although it got pretty big by the time the site was no longer being used for sacrifices to Zeus, there's currently nothing there but a grassy, empty space, perhaps a little greener than the surrounding grass for having been well fertilized over the millenia. The remains of the huge temple of Zeus were pretty obvious, and all the more impressive for having been left lying where the earthquake put them. But even with the guidance of the signs I wouldn't have known that the statues and columns that had once perched on this particular series of bases were paid for entirely by fines against cheaters in the games. Apparently there has been cheating for as long as there has been athletic competition. Gives new meaning to the term "spirit of the Olympics." They even had banned substances, I gather, although the most common form of cheating was bribing the opposition.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigyNWFvixW28n6VIrTd9k2wCpvcBWi5kAmOttDUwwxou_dMmuG1rl3M5ZXV-ufKwsYfa6bD2bTTolv_V9qczoUshCUGdtIfjUMpyWlsfONdu5UNB3sAKWCeBH3zHbl15ICn6k3gdXQOAM/s1600/fallen+Zeus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigyNWFvixW28n6VIrTd9k2wCpvcBWi5kAmOttDUwwxou_dMmuG1rl3M5ZXV-ufKwsYfa6bD2bTTolv_V9qczoUshCUGdtIfjUMpyWlsfONdu5UNB3sAKWCeBH3zHbl15ICn6k3gdXQOAM/s320/fallen+Zeus.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG07pCda1UoB-f_69wHw0klXaRCFcJRwGIvXz81xhyphenhyphenYFRnx3PyRiGFvgOCBd1BccTLd5eHt1GzsmJ-1ilAhlh-hjxBCIMJ1JmWft3_R3rNUs4K3KPvX2T3R1l8eNjht-MX6ftGXDvg_lA/s1600/price+of+cheating.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG07pCda1UoB-f_69wHw0klXaRCFcJRwGIvXz81xhyphenhyphenYFRnx3PyRiGFvgOCBd1BccTLd5eHt1GzsmJ-1ilAhlh-hjxBCIMJ1JmWft3_R3rNUs4K3KPvX2T3R1l8eNjht-MX6ftGXDvg_lA/s320/price+of+cheating.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We toured two of the three museums, the museum of the ancient Olympic Games, organized in preparation for the 2004 Olympics in Athens, and containing game-related artifacts loaned from all over Greece, and the main archeological museum of Olympia, which included stunning sculptures and all kinds of offerings. The first picture below is a drinking cup picturing a runner in the same starting position earlier assumed by Annabel and Courtney (and even earlier in this very blog, in Delphi, by Annabel, Mackenzie, Meredith, and Kerri). The second picture is a sampling of the thousands of small items that were found beneath the site of that ash-pit altar. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcZlxlwJKJ7PZ1UvYRgAIGfVxU2OheYLj_49ruLRKA63ChAEzZGl5pNowXlfXy6JPC1kdBXf_-YYIBSRjdgvLpg4h-Oa311k1Y97iMs6hYUOUyyU8GN3LaiBzLWzznQZXRFawrYvd0BcQ/s1600/racing+cup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcZlxlwJKJ7PZ1UvYRgAIGfVxU2OheYLj_49ruLRKA63ChAEzZGl5pNowXlfXy6JPC1kdBXf_-YYIBSRjdgvLpg4h-Oa311k1Y97iMs6hYUOUyyU8GN3LaiBzLWzznQZXRFawrYvd0BcQ/s320/racing+cup.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjdFBRsLMc18sFKgG3gfJjmw40ySmirniDvtgpTDK6gOmrc3QDa4BcfOPO8vFRQTl5418mUBcCL8vK99HRFkaemvVMbAHyOdkLRTIf1VvApzvSRZ3Auagccs8aVFkFXK6Sqjcf7mcBfcY/s1600/ashpile+offerings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjdFBRsLMc18sFKgG3gfJjmw40ySmirniDvtgpTDK6gOmrc3QDa4BcfOPO8vFRQTl5418mUBcCL8vK99HRFkaemvVMbAHyOdkLRTIf1VvApzvSRZ3Auagccs8aVFkFXK6Sqjcf7mcBfcY/s320/ashpile+offerings.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The last thing we did before leaving Olympia was sit in the middle of the large center room of the archeological museum while Michael told us stories, three stories mainly, with a few juicy digressions, and we looked at the pedimental and frieze sculptures all around the room. First the by-now familiar story of the kentauromachy, the battle with the centaurs, which we had seen depicted in other places include the Parthenon and Delphi. This was the best version, both Michael's narrative and the one in stone that we were looking at, which included very realistic scenes of those nasty brutish centaurs groping the womenfolk and biting the arms of the noble Greeks who attempted to fight them off.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOvX5I2kwIDWpT7UWQ3oiUBy1n5Mup5MR0vwAO5sRKMrciMMpyQVwiiGah3q4LjmnwVTTY_mXyQK6-0Eou3pcIzzCZmvyf7o4BLvHPEYj-GAWzOVkJfdMynshdLVakNXlfA2h2F9_RknA/s1600/centaur+groping.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOvX5I2kwIDWpT7UWQ3oiUBy1n5Mup5MR0vwAO5sRKMrciMMpyQVwiiGah3q4LjmnwVTTY_mXyQK6-0Eou3pcIzzCZmvyf7o4BLvHPEYj-GAWzOVkJfdMynshdLVakNXlfA2h2F9_RknA/s320/centaur+groping.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5y87aQ3F3udoBlwLbN-j9SrbNgaQdMNuBgBpg64dYUwDNY1WuxzxhbPaKb-ATK8TQlCjzpnwyuhuzxknL6zhmUZbPIfGOXA-zT560eFTX2HKIvOyy2CjfXH9fot6YmpYlmsOmiWIjCww/s1600/centaur+biting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5y87aQ3F3udoBlwLbN-j9SrbNgaQdMNuBgBpg64dYUwDNY1WuxzxhbPaKb-ATK8TQlCjzpnwyuhuzxknL6zhmUZbPIfGOXA-zT560eFTX2HKIvOyy2CjfXH9fot6YmpYlmsOmiWIjCww/s320/centaur+biting.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The second main story was less familiar, the story of Pelops and his chariot-race win over King Oinomaos for the hand of his daughter Hippodameia. Oinomaos would only surrender his daughter (and kingdom) to a suitor who could beat him in a chariot race, but he always won by running his opponents through from behind with a spear, and then finished up by mounting their heads for trophies on the city walls. Pelops had the assistance of his former lover Poseidon (the first time I ever heard of a homosexual dalliance between god and mortal, among all those heterosexual ones), who supplied him with excellent horses, but he hedged his bets by accepting the offer of Oinomaos' chariot driver to throw the race, in exchange for first crack at first prize, Hippodameia. Pelops won, Oinomaos cursed the driver, Pelops killed the driver rather than handing over his new bride, and the driver cursed Pelops, which curse eventuated in such doomed offspring as Menelaus and Agamemnon. And that's only a very short summary of a very small part of the story. For instance, one of Pelops' descendants was Herakles (Hercules to you Roman-lovers), and his twelve labors were also depicted in stone around the walls of the museum room as well as recounted for us by Michael. My favorite of the labors was the one involving temporarily relieving Atlas of his burden, depicted below (with that hero-loving goddess Athena looking on), right after a shot of the entire Pelops pediment.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQWDuDqLzRdYzkOFxKRhS9CPf3iFzON9Wv5Rh_NjPadBk-JO6wPPoa9lrccbDuPZHnjRNo9-v1UiWeeLis_Sq6TTpKAexARD3vJI0-du6kALyVe1niU3bgEPKHOldrM-rqodKlNqBE48A/s1600/Pelops+pediment.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQWDuDqLzRdYzkOFxKRhS9CPf3iFzON9Wv5Rh_NjPadBk-JO6wPPoa9lrccbDuPZHnjRNo9-v1UiWeeLis_Sq6TTpKAexARD3vJI0-du6kALyVe1niU3bgEPKHOldrM-rqodKlNqBE48A/s320/Pelops+pediment.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsRpzzYTWFAQ3DrQ-B0snZUdQCTdoCUS0y7VYaV3ss7SB0RWKkAXjPcA0XrzhTVWdVJ-OFlexmQn8GPDLJChMkJXI6sb-Djw88vnz2hfbYXMgzOnSin3MMHret3JwtWyE6SQufnt5a2oQ/s1600/Herakles+and+Atlas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsRpzzYTWFAQ3DrQ-B0snZUdQCTdoCUS0y7VYaV3ss7SB0RWKkAXjPcA0XrzhTVWdVJ-OFlexmQn8GPDLJChMkJXI6sb-Djw88vnz2hfbYXMgzOnSin3MMHret3JwtWyE6SQufnt5a2oQ/s320/Herakles+and+Atlas.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We left Olympia on Sunday morning, still relatively early, for the long drive back around the west and north ends of the Peloponnese (and yes, you guessed it, the peninsula was named for Pelops). We had only one stop on the way, at a seaside temple of Hera north of Corinth, a very isolated and gorgeous setting (once again--those Greeks and their sanctuary sites!) with three people fishing from the rocks, a couple making out in a shelter high above, but otherwise our group alone on the site itself. Once again we were blessed by the gods, through the aegis of their faithful servants at the Athens Centre.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip6SkI2hXUwMLItn8pVoae0lHlH7fyQU6Bhyn65UFa_ZQTZyiTx2j6v4mPHTyauOqF5awpwA5fCTyiBU_z5loV78Jfswleuy2rHnWU9-2yDFNMnJVi6Kg0c6ZcK10tZkcynz1BCT6Jni4/s1600/Perkhora.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip6SkI2hXUwMLItn8pVoae0lHlH7fyQU6Bhyn65UFa_ZQTZyiTx2j6v4mPHTyauOqF5awpwA5fCTyiBU_z5loV78Jfswleuy2rHnWU9-2yDFNMnJVi6Kg0c6ZcK10tZkcynz1BCT6Jni4/s320/Perkhora.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Eric Heynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13966355802850256623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3586986478569604901.post-31065664489575647482010-11-18T06:29:00.000-08:002010-11-18T06:29:09.429-08:00Please, please, pretty PeloponneseI apologize for that title. Annabel and I have been watching too many goofy videos on uTube.<br />
<br />
Where, you might ask, is the Peloponnese? All you know about it is something to do with a war, and maybe those Spartans. Or maybe you know a whole lot more than that. Maybe YOU should be teaching in Greece instead of me.<br />
<br />
Sorry. Those were some very silly, very snappish videos. <br />
<br />
The Peloponnese is, of course, the large southern peninsula of mainland Greece, just across the isthmus of Corinth from Attica. The French-fueled canal-building frenzy of the late 19th century also produced the Corinthian canal, turning the Peloponnese into an island of sorts.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibNJwRr9a79B455o5YhM-BUJFRiE5dbrqFdLxPV-Lu2hK-sL1k_jiwONcxw5Svh2bQLp5WuCvOa9jx63urR64cgzpT0fy2ndZORjvWA_CA5J9Odnm-zerWTW1Xmd1VvIJlnpbXObLMHUc/s1600/Corinth+canal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibNJwRr9a79B455o5YhM-BUJFRiE5dbrqFdLxPV-Lu2hK-sL1k_jiwONcxw5Svh2bQLp5WuCvOa9jx63urR64cgzpT0fy2ndZORjvWA_CA5J9Odnm-zerWTW1Xmd1VvIJlnpbXObLMHUc/s320/Corinth+canal.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
There was a very in-your-face little old lady at the canal rest stop, urging everyone in sight, in no uncertain terms, to buy her little...um...grass....<i>things</i>. Sort of hanging down and twirly. Michael and Vassia had no idea what they were either, but said she'd been in business there for a very long time. I think this is a perfect symbol of something to do with the Greek economy, but I can't quite work it out at the moment--maybe later.<br />
<br />
The original schedule for our four-day trip was disrupted by the second round of elections on Sunday, which meant the closing of a couple of sites, so we had a very busy first day, including our next stop, Mycenea. Yes, THAT Mycenea. In another of those spectacular mountain locations. It rained off and on, blew Vassia's umbrella out, but later in the day the sun finally came out, and the weather was decent for the rest of our trip. I guess we must have been appropriately respectful at Mycenea.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNnrI_zfCPqrUM_Gf0AyHkVvvgwiEbGqCyR2DJxcv7P7xTO2JnYOVd9MmQMHotbL_6dmJROHm3UHt2EgOUNm-0RL6U7Q9CrKyc2cf_RdkhY2fpgS1dvp1t4MqVm9-2__-PcIRKyrR4CiY/s1600/Lion+gate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNnrI_zfCPqrUM_Gf0AyHkVvvgwiEbGqCyR2DJxcv7P7xTO2JnYOVd9MmQMHotbL_6dmJROHm3UHt2EgOUNm-0RL6U7Q9CrKyc2cf_RdkhY2fpgS1dvp1t4MqVm9-2__-PcIRKyrR4CiY/s320/Lion+gate.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRV66oV7GISpK0YvUTAH4_S33quvhyphenhyphen5Spj1iyejDxIuX2pLjLN7OxNRmIb72HcCq-O0Us-mibMrFTEbm0dDlo3vDQztE7jB4BpoFgT8daYiVmnZTFrASKwtgXtEZLx7SUwQfXA1cQgnnw/s1600/Michael+lecturing+to+the+dog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRV66oV7GISpK0YvUTAH4_S33quvhyphenhyphen5Spj1iyejDxIuX2pLjLN7OxNRmIb72HcCq-O0Us-mibMrFTEbm0dDlo3vDQztE7jB4BpoFgT8daYiVmnZTFrASKwtgXtEZLx7SUwQfXA1cQgnnw/s320/Michael+lecturing+to+the+dog.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBEhngdSGi1E_WXlYR5kqJWKlyYVRtnF7W7dDlCJqEeeCO2LiGf-dMcD9m3pY-gY5BFVTooiCndTfupGlbLxYF5nRH_Y0FfRZ18xOCYeF_uTZ_Od6I-49QmBGbB-EiWek9mbEtUPcMSxA/s1600/dogs+on+site.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBEhngdSGi1E_WXlYR5kqJWKlyYVRtnF7W7dDlCJqEeeCO2LiGf-dMcD9m3pY-gY5BFVTooiCndTfupGlbLxYF5nRH_Y0FfRZ18xOCYeF_uTZ_Od6I-49QmBGbB-EiWek9mbEtUPcMSxA/s320/dogs+on+site.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Unlike these dogs. Michael tolerated these very cute, friendly, and muddy dogs doing their best to compete with his commmentary. But it looked to me like these pups transgressed the boundaries of appropriate archeological-site behavior. I didn't get a picture of one of them digging under a protective tarp, but I did capture these two playing on top of a roof over part of the lower palace site, where we were not even allowed to go. All I can say is, Bad Doggie!<br />
<br />
That top picture is of the famous Lion Gate, which is much more impressive in person. I for one would not have wanted to try to capture Mycenea while that gate was being defended. I took pictures when I could, in between squalls, sneaking the camera out from under my jacket and trying to balance the umbrella while aiming the lens. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtYh33k4A5TEQqTmb7te2SVXfw0EVJli5JNzl7o45bwUz4piBQ1sPxi3LtND2pzr6qKeGONQHpS-nMLLXr3aapXKHC6B7UWz3hO4OsRNHI6keZeVFNS7Kalcu2fmpoJclLFEbvtArrY60/s1600/Mycenea+with+Argos+in+background.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtYh33k4A5TEQqTmb7te2SVXfw0EVJli5JNzl7o45bwUz4piBQ1sPxi3LtND2pzr6qKeGONQHpS-nMLLXr3aapXKHC6B7UWz3hO4OsRNHI6keZeVFNS7Kalcu2fmpoJclLFEbvtArrY60/s320/Mycenea+with+Argos+in+background.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv-gNxYYAxlHPVA4eMz3JU86mpZKLAt-hGUkT-M3Dw9isP0z3ecQfkILmVpYXp9XUsHb5rm-X4MasCfkpQzo16sw4J13jYx6Fle1FnNTx7ZwrdIOxo3t5wuOtTwnE5SEgDfMBcgskktzE/s1600/treasury+of+Atreus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv-gNxYYAxlHPVA4eMz3JU86mpZKLAt-hGUkT-M3Dw9isP0z3ecQfkILmVpYXp9XUsHb5rm-X4MasCfkpQzo16sw4J13jYx6Fle1FnNTx7ZwrdIOxo3t5wuOtTwnE5SEgDfMBcgskktzE/s320/treasury+of+Atreus.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi5CgM0EfbNr-QjzM3vtW2KGaLiveoqyQMXE9IQwpTQKXKvd_27kUhbsDDaGjebbArce8b8ykpXCP8l3qVhTU6KXKX-LPVrEMEIOZ21uJsQi_eHAsaojqZGUiDe-csRhmTS7Icmrg9FHk/s1600/inside+the+tholloss+grave.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi5CgM0EfbNr-QjzM3vtW2KGaLiveoqyQMXE9IQwpTQKXKvd_27kUhbsDDaGjebbArce8b8ykpXCP8l3qVhTU6KXKX-LPVrEMEIOZ21uJsQi_eHAsaojqZGUiDe-csRhmTS7Icmrg9FHk/s320/inside+the+tholloss+grave.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
The little pointy hill in the background of the first shot is ancient Argos, and between lies the fertile Argive plain, noisily disputed by Mycenea and Argos in the Bronze Age as well as by their Iron Age successors among the Greek city-states. The second and third shots are exterior and interior views of the massive tholos tomb known as the Treasury of Atreus. This had long ago been cleaned out by grave robbers when archeologists came on the scene. The vast hoard of gold objects found at Mycenea and currently almost all at the National Archeological Museum in Athens (where we saw them with Galen) were found in less architecturally impressive shaft tombs up in the fortifications. But even empty this tomb was daunting, a measure, along with the lion gate, of the scale of buildings and of men in the Bronze Age. Exactly as they would have wanted us to remember them, no doubt.<br />
<br />
As I said, most of the loot here was shipped off to Athens, but the museum on site was still interesting. I absolutely loved these little hand-held or stick-mounted idols, or whatever they were (Michael's not sure, and so I'm not sure), which were not fancy or expensive or massive (about 18 inches high), but nevertheless evoked something about this culture and this religion that made me I wish I knew more about it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVHVQMJQuhP_le8HBNgYUsXMR4ulmaZWAFY65EpOyF-o1N_SpilP2xcTs4X091_kUF6w454pf1vcgWGgL9J-ihnYVT8iCOjrUsQCTv6hvlBwcQpLaVEVhw1bhWeL9bsPL1a5gQUAalLEs/s1600/idol+puppet1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVHVQMJQuhP_le8HBNgYUsXMR4ulmaZWAFY65EpOyF-o1N_SpilP2xcTs4X091_kUF6w454pf1vcgWGgL9J-ihnYVT8iCOjrUsQCTv6hvlBwcQpLaVEVhw1bhWeL9bsPL1a5gQUAalLEs/s320/idol+puppet1.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBp3pPD7wMlna4ZHgfOf7h9OImTdLX5-rmMUB8QNNSLGnJIUZYYx3n5B1viwbhiXjBYrXA3kEjg6pjnFaNIKntSfr_EV08-ipTLmO9g5HOPtZpZwspJ4698Z5zNvMBvpYgQIyB8jE4pdg/s1600/idol+puppet3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBp3pPD7wMlna4ZHgfOf7h9OImTdLX5-rmMUB8QNNSLGnJIUZYYx3n5B1viwbhiXjBYrXA3kEjg6pjnFaNIKntSfr_EV08-ipTLmO9g5HOPtZpZwspJ4698Z5zNvMBvpYgQIyB8jE4pdg/s320/idol+puppet3.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6cafx8J-mJuS-l2u79rZPEt-bzuAcwCLUMigtVbslyTmlJeCel4pC5rsGTBHoQY_HKFjjAIoXLpX7KxHsMlOR6sxAi4gWIn1Sdkv8aijt9f5CRjjUljmNb0VI5K57xVc5mZ-fHYw4W-k/s1600/idol+puppet2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6cafx8J-mJuS-l2u79rZPEt-bzuAcwCLUMigtVbslyTmlJeCel4pC5rsGTBHoQY_HKFjjAIoXLpX7KxHsMlOR6sxAi4gWIn1Sdkv8aijt9f5CRjjUljmNb0VI5K57xVc5mZ-fHYw4W-k/s320/idol+puppet2.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-ApV2cF0R557sP2tvRvO0kM8j-ORMzMC5kTv0MHs7RQQJaCi4aypXN2OD94c_WiD9jDuYEs9QEdip6H_nI2C4O96-PRuE-9YQR8Cr5_UCZ_WcCBvgd_Bik-CUKSQu3P7M0CZnChbJsE/s1600/platform+shoes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-ApV2cF0R557sP2tvRvO0kM8j-ORMzMC5kTv0MHs7RQQJaCi4aypXN2OD94c_WiD9jDuYEs9QEdip6H_nI2C4O96-PRuE-9YQR8Cr5_UCZ_WcCBvgd_Bik-CUKSQu3P7M0CZnChbJsE/s320/platform+shoes.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
Check out those platform shoes! <br />
<br />
The museum had all kinds of smaller objects from two millenia of pre-history and history recovered at this site, sometimes randomly preserved, like a cache of double axe-heads that someone hid from the attackers and never got back to dig up. I liked the museum's chronological design. As usual, Michael moved quickly, hitting only the high points, but the bits of fresco and ceramic and gold and bronze, weapons and pots and offerings, were all the more interesting because by this point in the term I actually had some idea what I was looking at. Not enough to pass Michael's final, probably, but enough to enjoy the exhibits. Like this one, proof that the Myceneans liked their souvlaki as much as modern Greeks.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4So9YEq6VvHuem1GKaPC1GNCc7qo1slf5Xgz1p8Fef9u9peGUQGyt-99FMHTICWmoDzvPA5Hyic-UnwCm0UV8Dnb3DqnjRw3FJh2SGkdfyzSGZZpbktBkmkfbvIJRNwvfhonDAb5LCrg/s1600/early+souvlaki.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4So9YEq6VvHuem1GKaPC1GNCc7qo1slf5Xgz1p8Fef9u9peGUQGyt-99FMHTICWmoDzvPA5Hyic-UnwCm0UV8Dnb3DqnjRw3FJh2SGkdfyzSGZZpbktBkmkfbvIJRNwvfhonDAb5LCrg/s320/early+souvlaki.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
I'll leave you with just one picture from the next site we visited, Epidavros, the sanctuary of Asclipeus the healer. This was not even remotely the end of our fun day, but it's enough for now. The temples at Epidavros have been reconstructed with horrific enthusiasm, although work stopped partway when somebody who knew better got a look at the ratio of original to reconstruction--or what our students like to call "real" and "not real." But the site still had plenty of authentic dazzle. This is Annabel at center stage of the theater of Dionysus (which is redundant, since all the <i>real</i> Greek theaters belonged to Dionysus), a place whose acoustics even in its dilapidated state allow a stage whisper to be heard in the very back of the house. They still perform here, and Annabel is making plans to return, this time in a professional capacity.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZAOSt2JXrNSJvh56u2Ar6KASpf588pX85_YGeIB-McA5d4flZpibeQGFt-GrnAxENhZzWIY_3x1YRE-IlvKI8hBq9yaCxcOVpVjeKH9lkCgqCope-FSRq-PDwPPTbT25CB1RpuEnUryo/s1600/theater+at+Epidavros.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZAOSt2JXrNSJvh56u2Ar6KASpf588pX85_YGeIB-McA5d4flZpibeQGFt-GrnAxENhZzWIY_3x1YRE-IlvKI8hBq9yaCxcOVpVjeKH9lkCgqCope-FSRq-PDwPPTbT25CB1RpuEnUryo/s320/theater+at+Epidavros.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Eric Heynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13966355802850256623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3586986478569604901.post-63944226902560915842010-11-18T00:43:00.000-08:002010-11-18T00:43:31.263-08:00Galen goes abroadSuch a travelogue you've been getting from us. All the highlights, the exotic locales, the full-on academic-tourist experience. But we've been home in Athens a lot as well, and for one week we were lucky enough to have Galen (Annabel's brother) here with us. I mentioned taking him to the airport back in the zoo trip story, so you know it's already been some time since he left. It seemed as though his week here just flew by, as will the next couple of weeks, our last in Athens. We're already making our reservations for domestic travel over Christmas, as well as the spring trip to Paris from Oviedo. But for now we're trying to remain as fully as possible in the Greek moment. <br />
<br />
Galen did come along on two short field trips the week he was here: our guided tours of the National Archeological Museum and of the Agora and Pnyx, led of course by the indomitable Michael. Our museum trip was cut short by the imposition of winter hours. All over Greece, apparently, archeological sites are shutting down at 3:00 in the afternoon. This has been a bit of an inconvenience over the last few weeks, and will require more careful planning once Julie (my mom) gets here tomorrow. Our latest and last big excursion, to the Peloponnese, required working around election day closures as well, but the highly resourceful Athens Centre staff was up to the challenge. Anyway, here are a couple of shots from our walk around the sites west and northwest of the Acropolis.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI9wdeXHpC7RJRqn_NQZe8tUusKqM2zrPiyooXIA1oTBfeTUcCUZEPmklEvSuif4X7NP0mDIPSy_wk10w52T_IcJgSgH6NTrSxu_Q9m5goCyfji1xROE7n1whabw-P0AJzVJOCnwQxahg/s1600/Galen+and+group+on+Pnyx.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI9wdeXHpC7RJRqn_NQZe8tUusKqM2zrPiyooXIA1oTBfeTUcCUZEPmklEvSuif4X7NP0mDIPSy_wk10w52T_IcJgSgH6NTrSxu_Q9m5goCyfji1xROE7n1whabw-P0AJzVJOCnwQxahg/s320/Galen+and+group+on+Pnyx.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjb4PA1Npr83oHKwg2BfOfMhKn9srAOlWlL3Ko_3mOyTfT-ZKNf-jZifutLbBfCx29PmMXsC9Obf7h88rr2fo1Mnsdzk4qix9McUAe1XHqCNMiE4uTqrSVDix_nGzjyHNjNnVZDpEL9wA/s1600/Galen+and+Annabel+on+Pnyx.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjb4PA1Npr83oHKwg2BfOfMhKn9srAOlWlL3Ko_3mOyTfT-ZKNf-jZifutLbBfCx29PmMXsC9Obf7h88rr2fo1Mnsdzk4qix9McUAe1XHqCNMiE4uTqrSVDix_nGzjyHNjNnVZDpEL9wA/s320/Galen+and+Annabel+on+Pnyx.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO3KYDSFtMSKuDVhrkZJMDMUhVCtoWwSpyHLmDv8gT9yjzB17bGcCe3oaKLDlH2z8CgOjoQQnGhbEiH-89LvaG7rj5DdnKOJLztHZshXkv1Q-eBRQHA1ZFdLKFG-Q4OyirYOI9YREC-W8/s1600/smog+effect.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO3KYDSFtMSKuDVhrkZJMDMUhVCtoWwSpyHLmDv8gT9yjzB17bGcCe3oaKLDlH2z8CgOjoQQnGhbEiH-89LvaG7rj5DdnKOJLztHZshXkv1Q-eBRQHA1ZFdLKFG-Q4OyirYOI9YREC-W8/s320/smog+effect.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8m5Yeit16ZPthkt64WgHb-01hfF8o9KABPxmU4IBRolbuSWeqk3aFy2o0dNly2i_AddIfNDYpisDcTgypHu0eT3EmzFf_yt-e_7cLjkPpH65vsQLMqn5fjfqrjWvNNLm7sPPLcciUdlo/s1600/Socrates%2527+cell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8m5Yeit16ZPthkt64WgHb-01hfF8o9KABPxmU4IBRolbuSWeqk3aFy2o0dNly2i_AddIfNDYpisDcTgypHu0eT3EmzFf_yt-e_7cLjkPpH65vsQLMqn5fjfqrjWvNNLm7sPPLcciUdlo/s320/Socrates%2527+cell.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Galen brought fabulous weather for the entire week he was here, such that a few days into his visit he asked me if it ever clouded up in Athens. But as you can see from the third shot, the air was not entirely clear. I was struck by the contrast between the white buildings below the smog and the brown ones behind it, and took a lot of pictures to try to capture it.<br />
<br />
The bottom picture is the site of Socrates' cell, and the place where he took the hemlock. Michael gave us a kind of philosocratic tour of the Agora, with evidence for how we know the location of the shoemaker's shop, just outside the wall of the sanctuary, where Socrates taught, as well as the cell where he spent his last days. Lots of great stories, and topographical tidbits like the plaque marking the site where St. Paul preached to the Athenians. He was really in his element at the museum in Olympia last week, where we sat in the large central room looking at the relief sculptures from the temple of Zeus, and he told us in juicy detail the stories of the Battle with the Centaurs and the hero Pelops' cheating chariot victory over his bloodthirsty prospective father-in-law. (Here's a link to a short version of the latter story, for you mythology buffs: <a href="http://www.theoi.com/Heros/Pelops.html">http://www.theoi.com/Heros/Pelops.html</a>.) <br />
<br />
As the sharp-eyed among you noticed regarding the first picture above, our group has doubled in size lately, at least for the local excursions. There's another cadre of students at the Athens Centre right now, from Colorado College, taking intensive Greek language classes, and it's been fun for our students to mix with a slightly larger group (especially the three boys).<br />
<br />
After the formal excursion ended, we went to the Keramikos, the main gate of ancient Athens, where Annabel wanted to show Galen not only the ruins and artifacts, but also the wildlife. Or maybe not-so-wild-life. We never found any of the frogs we'd seen on our earlier trip, but there were some critters to be seen.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8hQ0XVQJH5wtJgOWJYdUfMJNIrT75XaC0a8UV69cPQW_M8HkUBAMi77cN1s7_h454ldh7tA1tcD5kO_qQFMoUXWwpwvdsGMh3wrlikb696p64e_Q-cR4i6njl0lWdzkPNVMOfHw8k37I/s1600/Annabel+with+tortoise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8hQ0XVQJH5wtJgOWJYdUfMJNIrT75XaC0a8UV69cPQW_M8HkUBAMi77cN1s7_h454ldh7tA1tcD5kO_qQFMoUXWwpwvdsGMh3wrlikb696p64e_Q-cR4i6njl0lWdzkPNVMOfHw8k37I/s320/Annabel+with+tortoise.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigjCsoOPNAPSWpQ_9-OLL1YPetXJ9eXuGHJN3Z7Q_S-LYWleIWav1sL7viJScfCH1FQZ4pHyIxTVrWyTjF_GhgxWC6CHBMzcYxxWs4sZaRSjX-eKgWn9sUVyxXUV-3yjEJtiUD8MSDeBc/s1600/waiting+for+Dad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigjCsoOPNAPSWpQ_9-OLL1YPetXJ9eXuGHJN3Z7Q_S-LYWleIWav1sL7viJScfCH1FQZ4pHyIxTVrWyTjF_GhgxWC6CHBMzcYxxWs4sZaRSjX-eKgWn9sUVyxXUV-3yjEJtiUD8MSDeBc/s320/waiting+for+Dad.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> <br />
The bottom picture shows the three of them patiently waiting for dad, as he dawdles in the museum taking pictures. At this point they were all approaching archeological burn-out, but they didn't rush me. <br />
<br />
I'll leave you with a couple pictures of one of the two streets Annabel calls Cat Alley. Whenever she doesn't have her camera along, she asks me to take pictures for her, still accumulating the database for her photo-essay (which she's actually begun working on, at last). The second picture is the house belonging to Rosemary Donnelly, whose other house (on Paros) you've already seen. We've been the fortunate recipients of her hospitality twice in this beautiful house, which is just a couple of blocks from the Athens Centre. Getting here means we're almost home.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL5YSbLNLVzqVWO8auVJDaHf-sulCiyvK-7lyQ0CgybH7UlPGBj3-i6C1iN5KiDDbW0IQP1VfiW_a0jAy6NK-r1r3xZtzdZvN5zhGaO7XYovmZN5Y2s-UEwtWa4-wD00ECt30ASl3zSuw/s1600/cat+alley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL5YSbLNLVzqVWO8auVJDaHf-sulCiyvK-7lyQ0CgybH7UlPGBj3-i6C1iN5KiDDbW0IQP1VfiW_a0jAy6NK-r1r3xZtzdZvN5zhGaO7XYovmZN5Y2s-UEwtWa4-wD00ECt30ASl3zSuw/s320/cat+alley.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdSmMvsqyynDjjh5AG4QPc4mm2caM2zMoke8vRDsUbGSxvfMUEqSRubSWtOeiEKY_yq8MjG8d0_x-QN9RHGFXR4L6F1szjB0xVRlLmG_jJ3IEdgio5jJ5ylCywS1SoRvrnyKYcWt_N4mA/s1600/Rosemary%2527s+house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdSmMvsqyynDjjh5AG4QPc4mm2caM2zMoke8vRDsUbGSxvfMUEqSRubSWtOeiEKY_yq8MjG8d0_x-QN9RHGFXR4L6F1szjB0xVRlLmG_jJ3IEdgio5jJ5ylCywS1SoRvrnyKYcWt_N4mA/s320/Rosemary%2527s+house.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Between busy Markou Mouroussou<br />
and the quiet pines of the marble stadium grounds<br />
there is a street she calls Cat Alley.<br />
It is your refuge and reward for having survived<br />
the murderous motorbikes gunning for you<br />
on Arditou, the heat and bus exhaust<br />
on the long walk south from Monasteraki,<br />
the gauntlet of tourist shops and street vendors.<br />
All that is behind you now,<br />
as you ascend the hills of Pagrati<br />
by this peaceful back way. The cats know<br />
this refuge, and Rosemary, wise<br />
as Odysseus, has chosen it for her home.<br />
A statue of Athena looks down from the gable<br />
of a house at the top of its two short blocks,<br />
and if you're lucky (as we were for those<br />
brief weeks) you might see a tortoise<br />
stray across the pavement like an archaic<br />
traveller, bewildered at the pace of our lives.Eric Heynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13966355802850256623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3586986478569604901.post-66584741866738500042010-11-11T06:46:00.000-08:002010-11-11T07:07:18.610-08:00Sad story with a happy ending and no picturesAnnabel wanted to ride the bus out to the airport with Galen when he headed off on Sunday after spending a week with us in Athens. It's about an hour's bus ride out there, and we'd just heard about a new zoo out near the airport, which I'd researched online, and which sounded definitely worth seeing, so we decided to combine the trips. After Annabel and I said a sad goodbye to Galen in the airport (as he began what would turn out to be a delayed/missed connections/arrive a day late return trip, just like his trip to Athens had been), we found an airport information booth and asked about getting to the Attica Zoological Park.<br />
<br />
The booth worker said it was very difficult, no buses went there (despite what I'd read online), we'd have to take a taxi, it would cost a lot, and besides it wasn't a real zoo anyway. We were a little discouraged, but I had a couple more errands to accomplish in the airport, and after talking to two car rental agents (planning for Julie's upcoming visit) and trying but failing to get cash at the ATM (running up against the 24-hour-limit), we decided to ask another airport information person. I think I learned this lesson from Alex, but I don't trust everything I'm told when asking for information, and in fact generally trust it in inverse proportion to the certainty with which it's imparted. The second person said that she didn't know where the zoo was or how to get there, that the town I mentioned was in fact the whole area in the vicinity of the airport, and I should really ask the Greek Tourism Office--she (and her counterpart upstairs) only had information about the airport itself. <br />
<br />
Duh. So we walked down to the tourism booth, but it was dark. We asked the nice people in the travel agency booth next door, and they said it would open at 10:00. They asked what we needed, and I said information about the zoo, and they said that it was worth seeing but we'd have to get information about getting there from the tourism office. It was 9:50, so we got something to munch and waited. After a while I asked a few more questions of those nice people, and Annabel and I decided to set a limit of 10:30. It was Greek election day, but we were told that wouldn't prevent the office from opening. When 10:30 came around, the nice travel agency lady gave us a zoo brochure that was a little out of date, and armed with that we headed out to find a cab.<br />
<br />
I waved the brochure at the cab driver at the head of the long line, and he nodded and opened the door for Annabel. I handed him the brochure and said "Spata," the town where the zoo was, the freeway exit to which we'd seen on the way in, the last one before the airport, the same freeway exit where we were hoping to catch a return bus to central Athens. He eased out of the front of the taxi line, kind of sidling alongside the terminal, while looking at the brochure, trying, it turned out, to find an address that he could put into his GPS. The directions on the brochure, the same as those on the website, were terrible, it turned out. I have to give him that. He called in to his dispatcher or someone for help, with no luck, and then swung out into traffic to attempt to follow the map on the brochure. He didn't speak English, so we were already struggling, but I heard "30-35 euros," as did Annabel, and we both said "NO, wait, stop!" Our cab driver earlier that morning, taking us from our house down to the airport bus stop, had made a half-hearted attempt to persuade us to take his cab all the way to the airport, and offered to do it for 30 euros, which was a decent price. <br />
<br />
Now, I have to take a minute to explain cabs in Athens, which are actually reasonably priced and generally easy to use. They always use the meter, so you know what you owe, but there's extra for big bags, and an additional fee for going to the port or the airport, and another fee if you phone for the "radio taxi" rather than just catching one on the street, and sometimes cabbies will stop to pick up additional fares to ride with you but that doesn't mean you get a break on your fare. Okay, but like I said, it's still a pretty good system, generally quite clear. Unlike in Turkey, where we'd just been taken for a literal and metaphoric ride, and where I learned just a little too late that you always have to negotiate the price BEFORE you get in. I was still smarting from that one a week earlier.<br />
<br />
Anyway, back to this driver, who wanted 30 euros or more for what I thought should have been a 12 or 15 euro trip, at most. He pulled over to the curb, but we had already left the terminal behind, and there was of course no sidewalk and little shoulder, and I didn't fancy making our way back to the terminal and then having the same situation to deal with, and the driver was explaining that he didn't want to get back in that long line and wait again after having just worked his way to the front of it, and trying to justify the cost of the trip, and talking about the cost of going to Athens (which I didn't consider relevant), and meanwhile easing back into traffic, and, in the end, I just shut up and sat back and decided to lump it. I hoped that he simply didn't know how far it would be, and that he was overestimating the cost to be on the safe side, and that we'd only have to pay the meter amount after all, and that I'd be right about what it would be and the story would have a happy ending.<br />
<br />
He took the first exit, after paying one toll (and of course I factored that toll into the cost), headed towards Spata, then stopped to ask directions of a motorcyclist along the road. The motorcyclist gave what seemed like very complicated directions, and after we started off again the cab driver gave me a significant look in the rear view mirror and said, "Spata?!? Hmphh." This asking-for-directions and muttering "Spata--hmphh" occurred twice more en route. Meanwhile we were kind of far out in the boonies, easily too far from the freeway exit for us to walk back there. The good news was that as we pulled into the huge zoo parking lot, the meter only read 12 euros. At the start of the lot he slowed down and started asking me about how I was getting back, and what time I'd be done, and saying that he'd be happy to come back and pick me up and take me back to the airport. I told him we wanted to get back to Athens, and he said fine, and mentioned "45 euros." I was thinking about the challenges of Annabel and I returning, and thinking that the extra 15 euros wasn't an exorbitant amount to pay for getting to the zoo and back from the freeway, on top of the normal 30 euros to go from the airport to Athens. Remember, he doesn't speak English and my Greek is pre-remedial. I'm making this all sound a lot clearer and simpler than it was at the time.<br />
<br />
But after he copied out my cell phone number and we set a time to meet, and I said, "How much do I pay now, how much for this part, just in case?" it suddenly became clear that he wanted me to pay 35 euros for this trip and ANOTHER 45 for the trip from here to Athens. As I realized this I said "80 EUROS?!?" and Annabel immediately said, "OXI, OXI, OXI!" I was very proud of both her Greek accent and her Greek attitude. "NO, NO NO!" The cab driver gave her a tight smile and a pat on the head, and began trying to convince me. <br />
<br />
Now here's the part of the story I'm not proud of. I gave him the 35 euros. I should have given him 20 at most, for which he'd have been happy. But instead I paid what he asked and we walked off. I certainly made my statement, which was something like: I may be a sucker, but I'm only so much of a sucker, not quite as big a sucker as you think I am. The few people I've told this story to already here in Athens were disappointed in me. Just wait till next time, that's all I say.<br />
<br />
So now here we are in line at the zoo, mightily offended but determined to enjoy our beautiful day, low on money, starting to get a little hungry, and kind of nervous about how we're going to get home. At least our straightened finances made it easy to say no to the dolphin show, although we admitted to each other later that we were both a little sad about missing it. The zoo's prices had gone up too, but their exhibits had expanded a lot also, so we didn't mind. This is a private zoo--Greece doesn't have a real public zoo-and I was happy to support what turned out to be a first-class, high-standards, plenty-of-room-but-also-good-animal-viewing zoo. I won't go into detail--you've all been to the zoo, and this isn't that story anyway. It's the story of how we got to the zoo, and eventually got home.<br />
<br />
One of the notions in the back of my mind was that we'd strike up a conversation with a nice Greek family with room in their car, and they'd insist on giving us a ride back to Athens, but we'd say, no, no, it's too crowded for your beautiful children, just a ride up to the freeway will be fine, we already have our tickets, thank you so much anyway. Unfortunately, that didn't happen. The zoo was packed with people, and almost all of them appeared to be middle-class Greeks. Many of them exhibited the worst kinds of irresponsible zoo behavior: throwing things into the enclosures despite all the signs everywhere saying not to (including pictures of the poor monkey who died from eating something someone threw in her enclosure), tapping on the glass despite all the signs saying not to, and shoving up in front of us at exhibits, actually pushing Annabel out of the way in one case. With both hands. And that was an adult pushing my 10-year-old, in the reptile house, just to look at a lousy boa constrictor. I think I could sum up our zoo experience by saying that the animals were wonderful but the people were awful. I wanted to put a few of those folks behind bars.<br />
<br />
And, like I said, no one offered us a ride. I heard an American voice shortly before we were going to leave, and thought about striking up a conversation with an ulterior motive, but didn't. When we'd seen just about every exhibit, we walked out the front door (after the obligatory stop in the gift shop) and headed through the big parking lot and down the long driveway. Two gypsy boys about Annabel's age shot at us with a plastic pellet gun as we walked by, reminding me of the time the gypsy girl threw rocks at us on a walk in Spain. The boys followed us for a bit, continuing to shoot, until a parking attendant stopped them. This part of the trip--the long, hot, dry walk from the zoo along a narrow-shouldered road full of speeding cars, back toward what looked like the more urban part of Spata--was the low point for both Annabel and me. We'd had ice cream bars at the zoo, but decided not to eat lunch there. I wanted to find a taverna in town where we could eat and I could ask about how to get back out to the highway. When we finally got to the larger crossroad, I couldn't see anything in any direction that looked like a place to eat. So we turned right and headed in the general direction of the highway and Athens herself, not entirely sure of the what we were in for.<br />
<br />
Through this entire experience, from the airport onward, Annabel had been a trooper. She expressed no doubts in her father, not a speck of disloyalty, apologized even for getting us into this by wanting to go to the zoo in the first place, and I did my best to disabuse her of the notion that she had any responsibility for our situation. I was very happy to have her there with me, and felt like we'd been a great team at the zoo and would be a great team getting home.<br />
<br />
At that point we came up to a bus stop with one person waiting, who turned our to be very friendly and helpful. Again with no English on one side and no Greek on the other, but this time the key term--"metro"--needed no translation. A bus came in just a few minutes and our new friend indicated that we should get on with him, which we did, just barely, because the bus was PACKED. For the next ten or fifteen minutes Annabel held onto me and I held onto the bar of the bus door, as we made a few stops, and somehow a few people managed to get off and on (mostly on). Our friend had found another friend who spoke some English, and said he was going to get off at the metro station, and we should ride along until he got off. I saw out the window with a sinking heart the point at which our bus turned away from the freeway, which I was hoping we would intersect so that we could still use our airport bus tickets, but at that point I decided to relax and put our fate in the hands of our new friends, who by the way appeared to be south Asian, as did many of the people on the bus. Gradually the crowd thinned out, and Annabel and I could move away from the door, and even for a few stops into seats. The end of that bus line was indeed the metro station, just eight stops from our neighborhood, and we bought our metro tickets (we hadn't been able to buy bus tickets even if we'd wanted to, but it's all on a semi-honor system anyway, and by buying the metro tickets we were fulfilling our one-ticket-per-trip legal and moral obligation) and boarded the train, safe at last.<br />
<br />
That's almost the end of the story. We met an Alaskan on the train, on his first day (of a two-month vacation) in Greece, and I hope were able to give him a bit of welcome and reassurance. When we got off the metro we called Alex, who'd been wondering about us but whom I hadn't wanted to call until I wouldn't have to worry her, and she met us at an Italian restaurant near our house, where I had a calzone and a much-needed glass of wine, and Annabel had ice cream for the second time that day, and we told her the story of our harrowing adventure even as she enjoyed with us the happy ending.<br />
<br />
Did I mention how fabulous Annabel was? Well, she was.Eric Heynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13966355802850256623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3586986478569604901.post-13327396812666637312010-11-10T02:09:00.000-08:002010-11-10T02:09:40.850-08:00They don't speak Greek here (2)Because of the nasty weather, I don't have a lot of pictures from the next couple of days. Oh, wait, except for the several HUNDRED I took on our Bosporus "cruise," of every manner of building and boat, never mind the rain and the moving ship we were on and my limited skills at photography.<br />
<br />
[Yesterday as I was passing on some pictures to my students, one of them said, "Oh, look, we took the same picture," and there was hers on her screen and mine on another student's screen, side by side, and I don't need to tell you which was superior. By a lot.]<br />
<br />
But first another picture from our hotel window, as promised, of the sun setting over the ships moored "downstream" from us, on the other side of the Fish Market.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcHxHYQwhKlue56fWOzxf9zjz_gEOYvawQhSE47kKpdIz3FhX-nVAQrVrWC-0BumO1e17LVA89U3OCgd-BrzS9QxHKkstw0aveg8ZQPDSmqWEUW29wgPD_saCqJqOFK0lHi3DUKcIYkPQ/s1600/ships+at+sunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcHxHYQwhKlue56fWOzxf9zjz_gEOYvawQhSE47kKpdIz3FhX-nVAQrVrWC-0BumO1e17LVA89U3OCgd-BrzS9QxHKkstw0aveg8ZQPDSmqWEUW29wgPD_saCqJqOFK0lHi3DUKcIYkPQ/s320/ships+at+sunset.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The next day we went on a package tour, which we arranged through the hotel, which was to include another large mosque, the Spice Market, a bus tour of the European side of the Bosporus, a quick visit to a Byzantine fortress, a cruise of the Bosporus, lunch on the Asia side, and a final stop rather vaguely connected to carpets. (Some of you will have seen that last one coming.) The group included a German couple with some English, a French-speaking Quebecois couple, and the three of us. Our guide was fluent in all those languages and others, as he kept telling us, but that did not mean we were always able to understand him. Alex found it easier to understand his French than his English, and I kept catching things in German that I'd missed in English. Sometimes when there was limited time to say something, he just used English, which was okay with the others, but there was a lot of translating going on from the better-English-speaking member of each couple on those occasions. Here's a picture of him at the mosque that was our first stop. Dear guests, we go now.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLacbW-r4he8iVuUl1XOnCMjFfwabxf67EqAw_ghP7TOH92fSG2u1oDQpnkK2nyX8xzWmSlo21sWxYrwcg7yiOzISPrruacZx5HSL_QfUtToXfy_01nx5b9b6XZ2lSXpacPkC22WFozwY/s1600/dear+guests.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLacbW-r4he8iVuUl1XOnCMjFfwabxf67EqAw_ghP7TOH92fSG2u1oDQpnkK2nyX8xzWmSlo21sWxYrwcg7yiOzISPrruacZx5HSL_QfUtToXfy_01nx5b9b6XZ2lSXpacPkC22WFozwY/s320/dear+guests.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKWhqIFjFeYUkGT2CTQMqUNhmebSGZFjRlkZC2xzSJtEdG6G8PTbZM596JfjBkTnjCPjtD5c3f7fomXWXyGaBFk1lsiJp2ZImTJ2WLqN_avRotz8sy2Wy1-1Q_Nt6Trcer5lztkyszCX0/s1600/waterside+palace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKWhqIFjFeYUkGT2CTQMqUNhmebSGZFjRlkZC2xzSJtEdG6G8PTbZM596JfjBkTnjCPjtD5c3f7fomXWXyGaBFk1lsiJp2ZImTJ2WLqN_avRotz8sy2Wy1-1Q_Nt6Trcer5lztkyszCX0/s320/waterside+palace.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLJIeUSqvm74_Q-S8uEItyJvm0sYwCMwR2nO4Jx0N9fE_U13glRGXUMuf7gbqkpyeq_shD4hGMDVLr9THmsdzB8DvQKj6TO7rmWu1rOms6rR3ohrhclBfTJ9hptqF_vzkyCbVduuSSoUQ/s1600/fishing+fleet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLJIeUSqvm74_Q-S8uEItyJvm0sYwCMwR2nO4Jx0N9fE_U13glRGXUMuf7gbqkpyeq_shD4hGMDVLr9THmsdzB8DvQKj6TO7rmWu1rOms6rR3ohrhclBfTJ9hptqF_vzkyCbVduuSSoUQ/s320/fishing+fleet.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuIrCQmZNMoIaL-jLKnXrqY3mCt1FTLzil5TSkaufx7DgEM2LtK8yobW-6rwn5t4cvdXdrJ9ld6XkgD6RF8lcbY7Gm8Ih7DWsQzJILy5dHc3I0JZzw1E6vM9cUIeLATNrqtrGyCgTBOwc/s1600/floating+club.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuIrCQmZNMoIaL-jLKnXrqY3mCt1FTLzil5TSkaufx7DgEM2LtK8yobW-6rwn5t4cvdXdrJ9ld6XkgD6RF8lcbY7Gm8Ih7DWsQzJILy5dHc3I0JZzw1E6vM9cUIeLATNrqtrGyCgTBOwc/s320/floating+club.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I found the variety of buildings lining the Bosporus to be utterly fascinating, everything from the most ornate palaces and ancient fortress walls to waterfront Starbucks and dilapidated shacks. The boats in that third picture are moving alongside us, a fleet of fishermen heading in our direction (towards the Black Sea), and the fourth picture is of an expensive floating nightclub. There are several exclusive clubs in the vicinity of the European end of the first bridge to Asia (in the background, an enormous construction), and they have big curtains they can draw to shut out prying eyes from the water, or more precisely the prying camera lenses of the paparazzi, when the clubs are being visited by especially famous clients. As I said, I was not deterred by any of the barriers to photography, and if you're lucky maybe someday you can have a look at all my other pictures of buildings and boats. (Sounds like the title of a Talking Heads album.) For now you'll have to settle for a picture of Annabel's feet on the ground in Asia.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNjBHEI5R1YrhM111IWwdFT4_FGzNBTkV9Dmvsf7urWlvWO33r58fSBvq07ML1PtLKeMhu-TsQi6x8ne2T21I7ri4_5tyNdRGIbheKeRJnWiAXwtPtd131Y1Zxxd_RqazP9a9kVgGenos/s1600/feet+in+Asia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNjBHEI5R1YrhM111IWwdFT4_FGzNBTkV9Dmvsf7urWlvWO33r58fSBvq07ML1PtLKeMhu-TsQi6x8ne2T21I7ri4_5tyNdRGIbheKeRJnWiAXwtPtd131Y1Zxxd_RqazP9a9kVgGenos/s320/feet+in+Asia.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Our lunch view, which on a clear day would have been magnificent, was not. This was the first time setting foot in Asia for any of the three of us, and we would have liked to make more of our opportunity, but the rain at this point was coming in buckets.<br />
<br />
Very bad traffic (i.e., typical Istanbul traffic) led to a vote to cut off a minor part of the tour (strongly encouraged by our guide), and for the rest of our tour I decided to pack the camera up and concentrate on looking directly at the things in front of me. The tour of the nineteenth-century palace was very enjoyable, although our guide's habit of repeating the same things in each room grew funny only after it was for some time annoying. The last stop on the itinerary turned out to be--no surprise to Alex and me--a pitch by some excellent carpet salesmen. Actually, it was a very enjoyable presentation, and we saw a lot of spectacular carpets, and as soon as we said we weren't buying they left us alone to our tea. But our fellow "dear guests" must have been a little more encouraging, because it took a while to get out of there. And then when we thought we were done and headed for the hotel, the elevator door opened on the jewelry floor, where we spent another twenty minutes. We managed to miss the leather floor. Earlier in the day, most of the Spice Market portion of our tour was spent in one shop where we heard another informative and entertaining pitch, and actually bought a few things. One thing about Istanbul: there was seldom a moment outside our hotel room when someone wasn't trying to sell us something. It was a little wearying at times, especially trying to make our way down narrow streets around meal times. But we adjusted.<br />
<br />
The next day I left the camera at home, and we ourselves almost turned around just a couple of blocks from home, with the wind threatening to demolish our umbrellas and soaking us from the knees down. But we persevered, spending most of the day indoors at the older palace, underground in the amazing Byzantine cistern, and shopping in the Grand Bazaar, which was going to be closed the next day because it was a major holiday. I had been wondering about all the Turkish flags flying everywhere. Ordinarily I don't consider it a good sign if a place is plastered with national flags--seems like a sign of insecurity or a repressive regime, to me--but it turned out that some of those were specially displayed for the holiday. Not all, however. There are lots of very big Turkish flags flying everywhere in Istanbul. Interpret that as you will.<br />
<br />
We spent the holiday visiting the newer part of town, across the Golden Horn but still on the European side, going up in the Renaissance tower that dominates the skyline there (far from the many very tall sky scrapers in the high-rent parts of the newer city), and visiting the beautiful Istanbul Modern Art Museum on the site of an old warehouse on the water. Our excursion guide had told us, when we pointed in the direction of the museum from the bus and said, "Oh, look there's the Istanbul Modern," "Oh, no, there's no museum there, that's just shopping, just a shopping area." We were confused for a while, but our dear guide was spectacularly wrong, as it turned out. The hundred-odd years of Turkish art were very enjoyable, but the building itself was the real gem. <br />
<br />
Luckingly for us, the weather was milder on this day, and we were able to walk around with umbrellas tucked away most of the time. There were intimations of even better weather coming on our last day, as you can see by the red sky at night of yet another shot out our hotel window at sunset.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhkwaeZYo78fgpjczh-777omyok-5v634Et7SL5ESxOR_Rxb-pvxIcNVJ2wAeu6l9Vh1x_yZ1I0xHFMkhwbWoBBbnE0Tz79Vh2QTUk6NiSJXN8PDXgSiyEMnJ7ZGorSei0t5k-aIJWKk0/s1600/another+sunset+ship+shot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhkwaeZYo78fgpjczh-777omyok-5v634Et7SL5ESxOR_Rxb-pvxIcNVJ2wAeu6l9Vh1x_yZ1I0xHFMkhwbWoBBbnE0Tz79Vh2QTUk6NiSJXN8PDXgSiyEMnJ7ZGorSei0t5k-aIJWKk0/s320/another+sunset+ship+shot.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
When the rain stopped we finally ventured up to the terrace on top of our section of the hotel, which wasn't used by anyone but us as far as I could tell (only three apartments in this section), and the view was even better from up there. But perhaps you've seen enough versions of this one shot? Are you sure? Okay, if you're sure.<br />
<br />
The bulk of that last day was spent at the Archeological Museum, housed in part of the Byzantine palace complex. It included three enormous buildings, and we never even made it to the third. By halfway through the second we were moving very quickly, and I raced through a couple of floors at the end all on my own (while Alex took Annabel on the obligatory museum shop stop), including artifacts from Schliemann's excavation of Troy which I saw at the rate of about 10 seconds per each of the nine or so excavation levels. I can only give you a small sampling of the fantastic stuff we saw. I think we were all most impressed by the really old stuff, the Bronze Age artifacts from all over Asia Minor and the Near East, impressive statues mummies and plaques and altars and all kinds of smaller stuff from the Hittites and Sumerians and Babylonians and Egyptians and others. I took lots of pictures of different kinds of writing on stone, and just couldn't get over how many kinds of writing there were that long ago.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9zKcuM4cz2A2J_nkUj2RQbwrOglB67w4Jlh-bVhsikUaZvLAHjS-uF6uCBZOz9CK1SiiLh6N8au6iIxNumiurIoad2qXDH4TqcOxZBPkKQhTSCzhmKKEM3_TBqGcs8LjfmjfyHkH9qyw/s1600/mummies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9zKcuM4cz2A2J_nkUj2RQbwrOglB67w4Jlh-bVhsikUaZvLAHjS-uF6uCBZOz9CK1SiiLh6N8au6iIxNumiurIoad2qXDH4TqcOxZBPkKQhTSCzhmKKEM3_TBqGcs8LjfmjfyHkH9qyw/s320/mummies.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMxHtxYDB3VfdQWaN8kJd3QTDlu7MQAWvwoQW73t8Acf4KHz2Vd_L7fr8KD69WdWWWBqAkyQbvEyihkoqtmH8EqTgWD1bHV-XZB80M7DRlSwev2-H3RHgLI06ftlrvrcLEwvawW1jD2mU/s1600/Annabel+looking+up.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMxHtxYDB3VfdQWaN8kJd3QTDlu7MQAWvwoQW73t8Acf4KHz2Vd_L7fr8KD69WdWWWBqAkyQbvEyihkoqtmH8EqTgWD1bHV-XZB80M7DRlSwev2-H3RHgLI06ftlrvrcLEwvawW1jD2mU/s320/Annabel+looking+up.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8hLs0aHHwiuJiUDXHCANXeNs7rR4-Qa0O2lfXM7QeycGWFTLHxdnRV8ggRkdp8WsNc4EAdeEgcDV2_KHyvzHuTpswsemZhitOh4m-ZpIk5qIInoYEYYPXVhZWyLvGym8ZRsavQ9s5opU/s1600/love+poem.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8hLs0aHHwiuJiUDXHCANXeNs7rR4-Qa0O2lfXM7QeycGWFTLHxdnRV8ggRkdp8WsNc4EAdeEgcDV2_KHyvzHuTpswsemZhitOh4m-ZpIk5qIInoYEYYPXVhZWyLvGym8ZRsavQ9s5opU/s320/love+poem.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcP4UHaT-glO80voxZ8QC7Vhw8al29ASyVzLHavRurlYFc7BYIWjZO_PZGtTEB67CCIF5Uy94jc2lpA8f1Vi57rwDfywtl5sIv7F4eq68wi9yBfCgo_2T1ScgV9yB43EqsTiDWPyAYQBw/s1600/Alexander+hunting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcP4UHaT-glO80voxZ8QC7Vhw8al29ASyVzLHavRurlYFc7BYIWjZO_PZGtTEB67CCIF5Uy94jc2lpA8f1Vi57rwDfywtl5sIv7F4eq68wi9yBfCgo_2T1ScgV9yB43EqsTiDWPyAYQBw/s320/Alexander+hunting.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRF0sSgRcSGkEmetBnF41XWJlwF50zGBdjtcP-IsgnBbIO5YmYPI3skmj8pc3pPnO-s_KjKl8_EARyb7XdEODJvmtS2yhlAxaz1MmJwCIDJHHO2TVp3cEw9C1bULOcz51viLolM5cEraQ/s1600/statuary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRF0sSgRcSGkEmetBnF41XWJlwF50zGBdjtcP-IsgnBbIO5YmYPI3skmj8pc3pPnO-s_KjKl8_EARyb7XdEODJvmtS2yhlAxaz1MmJwCIDJHHO2TVp3cEw9C1bULOcz51viLolM5cEraQ/s320/statuary.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj946mRBfw210Lchuwy3LQkVGOMn8E6YXubIP6zNh-gMMim1-QX7KcIn2IVpun2AFZ58Xn7Z39N5GhyroY_xiRAFaIScpEtfRb6EkkQ__x8nDopaWW6Na-g3xUKnkK4NnN7ryXr-Hr9mx0/s1600/centaur+sphinx+coffin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj946mRBfw210Lchuwy3LQkVGOMn8E6YXubIP6zNh-gMMim1-QX7KcIn2IVpun2AFZ58Xn7Z39N5GhyroY_xiRAFaIScpEtfRb6EkkQ__x8nDopaWW6Na-g3xUKnkK4NnN7ryXr-Hr9mx0/s320/centaur+sphinx+coffin.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
There was one huge multi-room display devoted to finds from the royal necropolis at Sidon. Alexander the Great is pictured at the far left in the fourth picture above, taken in that display, and you can still see the yellow paint on his hair, another reminder that they used to paint all that carved marble in gaudy colors. This frieze is from the "Alexander tomb," which was not actually his, but that of a general and friend of his. The mass of funerary carving in this display and others in the museum was overwhelming. There is a whole suite of rooms dedicated to an imaginative reconstruction of Byzantium at the peak of its Roman power, including many of the artifacts on which the reconstruction was based. Plus a couple of floors of Christian artifacts from Constantinople in the middle ages, that huge Troy display I raced through, and who knows how much more that we never even saw. It would have been a thoroughly satisfying way to conclude our Istanbul trip if we weren't nervous about getting to the airport. We ought to have allowed two days for this museum.<br />
<br />
Eric had a window seat aft of the wing for the flight back, and took enormous pleasure in picking out landmarks below, including the island of Lesbos, and tracking from the air the ancient water-route to the sprawling modern city at Byzantium. As you can tell from this final shot of the Blue Mosque, the weather on the flight back was conducive to landmark-spotting, all travel by taxi and plane and bus and taxi again was routine, and before we know it we had left the Greek-capital-in-exile and were back home in the Greek-capital-by-default, having learned no Turkish whatsoever and actually relieved at being in a place where we could sort of read some of the signs and understand a little of what we were told in the native language.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGlJItlQ3htv7sSq4_uxqFRmT_D83i12KeIq5Tw3kBzxKqLedaxYcPj0TqB-dqYbnwjlltHyPdSZJ2ZzTKwXuY1JYGRR3keH-Rc9GydQXIcK995OakU67pQp4okJ2ziICg8fbOhRTZiGQ/s1600/Blue+Mosque+in+sun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGlJItlQ3htv7sSq4_uxqFRmT_D83i12KeIq5Tw3kBzxKqLedaxYcPj0TqB-dqYbnwjlltHyPdSZJ2ZzTKwXuY1JYGRR3keH-Rc9GydQXIcK995OakU67pQp4okJ2ziICg8fbOhRTZiGQ/s320/Blue+Mosque+in+sun.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Eric Heynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13966355802850256623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3586986478569604901.post-37452041370365440902010-11-09T23:11:00.000-08:002010-11-09T23:11:17.227-08:00They don't speak Greek hereI can't keep up. There's too much happening. We're having too much fun, traveling too often, seeing too many different things. Life is getting in the way of my blog. I can't take it any more. I'm outta here, outta Greece entirely! I just can't take it! Get me on a plane out of the entire E.U.!<br />
<br />
Okay, but first Alex has to spend countless--count 'em, countless--hours trying to arrange our trip to Istanbul, with all sorts of confusions and changes and complications. We decide that flying is the only way to go, given our time constraints and desire to spend as much time in Istanbul as possible. So, as my students scatter to the four winds for our autumn quarter break, to Paris and Rome and Brindisi and Edinburgh and Seoul, we head for the place Greeks consider their lost capital, a country full of Byzantine churches converted to mosques, a country eerily like and unlike Greece, a city that reminds me a lot of Athens but with subtle and powerful differences, a kind of Bizarro-Athens (for you Superman fans out there): Istanbul, Turkey.<br />
<br />
All that effort by Alex resulted in a fabulous apartment a couple of blocks from the Blue Mosque with a view of the Marmora Sea. I kept taking pictures out this window, sometimes because the bad weather was keeping us in, sometimes because I simply loved the view.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM0KREFHfpDGAZebfIVGfMLVYJp570rfk1Lgsa_52yy0aAQx5xQ9_Ib-ShvsPvoYs0flh0V9OLmNbLFF4Pfi1jgrjkIubyNyhpyhLAjfEmNvTYlWK3BESP-7Aewi_qDhS1y1o-48uTF8I/s1600/Ayasophia+room.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM0KREFHfpDGAZebfIVGfMLVYJp570rfk1Lgsa_52yy0aAQx5xQ9_Ib-ShvsPvoYs0flh0V9OLmNbLFF4Pfi1jgrjkIubyNyhpyhLAjfEmNvTYlWK3BESP-7Aewi_qDhS1y1o-48uTF8I/s320/Ayasophia+room.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWMZOtDuQCOXthW6e7tEaKQ3mWF5ThynewFtqTriG0QRPYwMTcFHpNnxAG_AlxmeFqtslGFbOpmVkhoWrl6go7sBvXtJjouIanQGhKv4R5aYyUplzM26hngKB2xiX-fdR4mbtv9rpPWSk/s1600/ships+and+gulls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWMZOtDuQCOXthW6e7tEaKQ3mWF5ThynewFtqTriG0QRPYwMTcFHpNnxAG_AlxmeFqtslGFbOpmVkhoWrl6go7sBvXtJjouIanQGhKv4R5aYyUplzM26hngKB2xiX-fdR4mbtv9rpPWSk/s320/ships+and+gulls.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIDZ1pgTYbpT9VHI5-KH-v9BrkjpBpbkCOWGSH9RyfPfaJTbPsyDmsWjnPUD_b-VK2RgbE_8UlN0VPIDrL_eDc_Prj4xmlOZ27P2VzFg0g-WxChWnGMmFUdX-G4afZSIxCjqblgc9J-ao/s1600/Bosphorus+vectors.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIDZ1pgTYbpT9VHI5-KH-v9BrkjpBpbkCOWGSH9RyfPfaJTbPsyDmsWjnPUD_b-VK2RgbE_8UlN0VPIDrL_eDc_Prj4xmlOZ27P2VzFg0g-WxChWnGMmFUdX-G4afZSIxCjqblgc9J-ao/s320/Bosphorus+vectors.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The second picture is from our room--I took all kinds of pictures out that window, in all kinds of light and weather. (I bet you'll see another one soon.) The bottom picture was taken from a cafe in the sultan's park at the northwest end of the Old Quarter, beyond the Palace. After we'd been walking all around the first afternoon, checking out the sights but not going in anywhere, we ended up at this spot, and as we sat there looking over the Bosporus and the Golden Horn, I was thoroughly happy. Istanbul is a place that has always been defined by the sea, and I just couldn't get over all the traffic. I thought Piraeus was busy, but this three-armed stretch of water was simply crawling with ships and boats. I took that bottom picture because I thought I counted at least seven different ship-vectors in this one frame, including ferries going from various shores to various other shores, freighters moving up and down the Bosporus, and fishing boats heading hither and thither (but mostly right in the middle of things) in search of the abundant fish that everyone here seems entirely comfortable with eating, despite all the ships (I accidentally typed "shits" there--hmm.... I must be thinking about what the ships are putting into the water) and whatever flows into this corner of the sea from a city of 20 million people. The name of an art show at the Istanbul Modern captured it nicely: "Held Together by Water." And yes, you read me correctly: 20 million. Twice the entire population of Greece, just as a for-instance comparison. All of that population centered on the water, on the same ancient whale-road between the Aegean and the Black Sea through which the Athenians moved the grain upon which they built their empire 2500 years ago and the olive oil and pottery by which they paid for that grain. For all our time spent in the Old Quarter, touristifying upon the history of Byzantium-Constantinople-Istanbul (and I left off the earlier names), the modern city was everywhere in front of us and around us and as dazzling as any mosaic or tiled dome.<br />
<br />
But the tiled domes were amazing. First the Hagia Sophia, once a church, then a mosque, now a compromise of a museum, but showing its complicated history in the disconcerting mix of Christian and Muslim iconography.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9YyebSLz7MnX5TEko8aP6CU7HJpKpYFH1lu830_6r5VeAocj1ul7LWW6T9xvVAvbvZ3iymvtvj7ybtjlDl9IXGT5M84Tq388PUcucIyDF_EpmAiK1DXJ9ma5lHj5neDLPAXY8tfyVgm4/s1600/Hagia+Sophia+for+scale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9YyebSLz7MnX5TEko8aP6CU7HJpKpYFH1lu830_6r5VeAocj1ul7LWW6T9xvVAvbvZ3iymvtvj7ybtjlDl9IXGT5M84Tq388PUcucIyDF_EpmAiK1DXJ9ma5lHj5neDLPAXY8tfyVgm4/s320/Hagia+Sophia+for+scale.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4H2RsdwRsTNteFtVr34BZPy7Zqi_Nf4u6aHXAixAgs8YegNKFdQeQXG7ilmDhwOi6i8MqPeOZm4MNYYDJl6uuv-sRARISZFDTMZMhztH-BEqL2RvT2-BkFkNjAmcbhNNbWqd59WCrIRo/s1600/Emperor+in+picture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4H2RsdwRsTNteFtVr34BZPy7Zqi_Nf4u6aHXAixAgs8YegNKFdQeQXG7ilmDhwOi6i8MqPeOZm4MNYYDJl6uuv-sRARISZFDTMZMhztH-BEqL2RvT2-BkFkNjAmcbhNNbWqd59WCrIRo/s320/Emperor+in+picture.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYJAqOXbLtA-mx20jDPHM9rYjrv1O0zpxjXC-QWjTOLTrsRSR86cVfAVRNK7eIUPiUA8RGZOaWJD85jL1NCMISZQa_6C77Ogsm3tY5jaOmBo6bnZeJC4dEMLRKF2zCOqkYZ4wXvLva_Ks/s1600/Islamic+stained+glass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYJAqOXbLtA-mx20jDPHM9rYjrv1O0zpxjXC-QWjTOLTrsRSR86cVfAVRNK7eIUPiUA8RGZOaWJD85jL1NCMISZQa_6C77Ogsm3tY5jaOmBo6bnZeJC4dEMLRKF2zCOqkYZ4wXvLva_Ks/s320/Islamic+stained+glass.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjofTerpQO-wRIkJH90qclyPopUUoNyzZ37EoBDXiQtiFMXeil-WjMI1wq4nRvy1PqLnFcl7lPKysPAzVWyq2qiH4GJnwDeFNW78dYaKklhvqq98bumNRjKR5mv67H_KR4kz2DJ-_qYqc/s1600/altar+cat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjofTerpQO-wRIkJH90qclyPopUUoNyzZ37EoBDXiQtiFMXeil-WjMI1wq4nRvy1PqLnFcl7lPKysPAzVWyq2qiH4GJnwDeFNW78dYaKklhvqq98bumNRjKR5mv67H_KR4kz2DJ-_qYqc/s320/altar+cat.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
The first picture is for scale, an overview to give you some idea of the space in which we wandered for an hour, and in which the early Christians and not-so-much-later Muslims indulged in their worship. The Blue Mosque was built to out-stupendify this place, even though the Hagia Sophia had already been co-opted and turned into a mosque, but one-upping this place was no small ambition. Because of the openness and the incongruities of the Muslim decorations, this place was as impressive to me as the cathedrals in Sevilla and Leon. The second picture above is the Christian emperor's modest effort to have himself and his empress included as BFF's of the Holy Family, but at least now we know what they looked like, or what they wanted us to think they looked like. The third picture is to help you picture our challenge in wrapping our minds around the concept of Arabic-language stained glass. The altar cat was included at Annabel's insistence. Believe it or not, there are more cats in Istanbul than in Paros or Athens. They seem to have free passage<br />
<br />
[Excuse me, I heard a scream from the bedroom, and went running. Had to kill a cockroach. Took some time. Spilled some water on Alex's bedside table in the process. But everything's okay now. I'm back. <br />
<br />
Oh, and the power went out on our block and the neighboring one this evening, for at least half an hour. Made me feel oddly at home. That said, a darkened Athens neighborhood is quite a bit different from a darkened Fairbanks neighborhood. <br />
<br />
Where were we?]<br />
<br />
everywhere. Annabel is entranced and entertained and never tires of seeing cats, and more cats, and MORE cats. I'm a little tired of them. (But that didn't keep me from making a fool of myself to the non-English-speaking waiter on our last night in Istanbul, after the busboy threw out the leftovers Annabel had wrapped up for her favorite cat by our hotel. I'll let Annabel act out this story for you, next time she sees you.)<br />
<br />
After the church, the mosque. They're close together, the latter built, as I said, in very deliberate competition with the thirteeth-century pride of the Christian world. Here's a view of the mosque from the window of the church. Oh, and while I'm at it, another shot inside the church.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1rW-VE_iDnLCujOVhw8X1DLEM_X2mqQsjxD2q9sMEwuRGIxgtqX2qt3Eb6WQIo9TZ3ZTkGyKKJZDkB9B4GYkYLToAvSBE3JckBtPHofhrNac52dcZYs6KWuXtembQCAxfzX31ZPveiI8/s1600/mosque+from+church.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1rW-VE_iDnLCujOVhw8X1DLEM_X2mqQsjxD2q9sMEwuRGIxgtqX2qt3Eb6WQIo9TZ3ZTkGyKKJZDkB9B4GYkYLToAvSBE3JckBtPHofhrNac52dcZYs6KWuXtembQCAxfzX31ZPveiI8/s320/mosque+from+church.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh70Yp4iKD92C0jr1seXokpZHbrynUtjGsjs7zCU8bfz-Z606F9Zit454hWffVWCP9VB5W4MfWDP88s1rW_SLWI-eVzsu_xRyWv8CUVNx3haj_LKjERzOZRU5S7S20IvkIj99uXdYMGXug/s1600/deadly+stone+in+Hagia+Sophia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh70Yp4iKD92C0jr1seXokpZHbrynUtjGsjs7zCU8bfz-Z606F9Zit454hWffVWCP9VB5W4MfWDP88s1rW_SLWI-eVzsu_xRyWv8CUVNx3haj_LKjERzOZRU5S7S20IvkIj99uXdYMGXug/s320/deadly+stone+in+Hagia+Sophia.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
Did I mention the bad weather? It's only mildly bad at this point, spitting rain off and on, and chilly. Later it was truly awful. But you can see some of the sky in the first picture.<br />
<br />
If you look closely at the floor in the center-bottom of the second picture, you'll see a chunk of rock that fell from the reconstruction work going on outside the top window, bounced on the scaffolding, bounced through the open panes in that top window, and dropped towards the head of an unsuspecting tourist. I think I was the only person to realize what was happening, and yelled something stupid, like "Heads up!" at which he completely failed to protect his head in any way or to move from the spot he was on. Luckily the stone missed him by a couple of feet. I think the security guard in the bottom picture may have said something afterwards to the workers. But perhaps not. I guess it's in God's hands, one god or another.<br />
<br />
Actually, come to think of it, in this case it's the same god, just different prophets. I'm still a little obsessed with my theories about Greeks being pagans at heart. Have I explained those theories to you yet? In any event, the Turks are very much Muslims. Perhaps you can tell from the first picture below why they call this particular place of worship "the Blue Mosque."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7pXMGLRRhb71kcU4jQZrdy7OiNqtwyDCTXkr8I4wdZKctHzkSn97x4IyHq-XfowHiXK6gb0qirpFtpn8hQSqCBBbrCCOGFrjQLoPsR69REywoWpJi64whDQ3d6LHAKCpy8wMCmqfvTwQ/s1600/very+Blue+Mosque.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7pXMGLRRhb71kcU4jQZrdy7OiNqtwyDCTXkr8I4wdZKctHzkSn97x4IyHq-XfowHiXK6gb0qirpFtpn8hQSqCBBbrCCOGFrjQLoPsR69REywoWpJi64whDQ3d6LHAKCpy8wMCmqfvTwQ/s320/very+Blue+Mosque.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Eg0U3nN3rBW3CKlaiq7uLxgQ6N4XjPQNLpok0Zkhas3_hJip-eX_nzy8wR_pcycdJBLEsEz4ZiehAxPj8QeBO8fUcdBWWpTn2v4B7WvRS0nhEGuZ5BtkDtA2VeQU0BqlbSJ8SosH2IQ/s1600/Blue+Mosque2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Eg0U3nN3rBW3CKlaiq7uLxgQ6N4XjPQNLpok0Zkhas3_hJip-eX_nzy8wR_pcycdJBLEsEz4ZiehAxPj8QeBO8fUcdBWWpTn2v4B7WvRS0nhEGuZ5BtkDtA2VeQU0BqlbSJ8SosH2IQ/s320/Blue+Mosque2.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXfhN-S9kWoTreFIJALykyMw7MZFRtVHdl-SNh4ev8ZNrQ38j2XVLyXjiwYOrjycrwnbY0Koyk8SbxdZ7778o-q53F5fwH4VbIVufvp8FBvi2ZFjo4uGVslIPLtZkhIxpkPZGeSaXfod4/s1600/Blue+Mosque3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXfhN-S9kWoTreFIJALykyMw7MZFRtVHdl-SNh4ev8ZNrQ38j2XVLyXjiwYOrjycrwnbY0Koyk8SbxdZ7778o-q53F5fwH4VbIVufvp8FBvi2ZFjo4uGVslIPLtZkhIxpkPZGeSaXfod4/s320/Blue+Mosque3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuxEOeGPNk6vyBtZHTv-LOq0fgD0blTNAm7UnL1KWJ4hxg6ZGU8r0PO1iP_fIrc9zAI61YoWTnZF3sqUoa1pPjBX0EG23A0MZKeFGj1LM1JXXh6e1yWzL4oS2VUIEaq-dAEzSBmopSf1A/s1600/Blue+Mosque4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuxEOeGPNk6vyBtZHTv-LOq0fgD0blTNAm7UnL1KWJ4hxg6ZGU8r0PO1iP_fIrc9zAI61YoWTnZF3sqUoa1pPjBX0EG23A0MZKeFGj1LM1JXXh6e1yWzL4oS2VUIEaq-dAEzSBmopSf1A/s320/Blue+Mosque4.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
It's all a bit dim from the poor weather, and of course no flash allowed, and of course no shoes and us infidels restricted to certain parts, but it was still a very impressive experience. <br />
<br />
But perhaps I need to go keep my slightly creeped-out wife company now, and continue this tomorrow. Don't you think that would be a good idea? I'll leave you with a very dark picture of Annabel and me. the three of us had the glassed-in terrace to ourselves, with an amazing view, and when the call to prayer began, both from the Blue Mosque there in the background and two other smaller and closer mosques, and they cut the music in the restaurant, it was a very moving experience. Don't be fooled by Annabel's irreverent pose--this was taken just before we were struck silent by the amplified voices of the cantors taking their turns at letting people know it was once again time to be thinking about God.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0kH8jfhgclIUclbAAqjSiHa6W3YQ8c2f9Q5oWRegMbOWvCxRyy3yhsKxzJ9W1rklZxSxV9yf_aWSU2y4ePHBOyYab5jCAPruQFFtw252I7569V59FqHJFxC58zL3wx6XAdFuxj1DCbVI/s1600/lunch+upstairs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0kH8jfhgclIUclbAAqjSiHa6W3YQ8c2f9Q5oWRegMbOWvCxRyy3yhsKxzJ9W1rklZxSxV9yf_aWSU2y4ePHBOyYab5jCAPruQFFtw252I7569V59FqHJFxC58zL3wx6XAdFuxj1DCbVI/s320/lunch+upstairs.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Eric Heynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13966355802850256623noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3586986478569604901.post-87647059514548397892010-10-31T06:34:00.000-07:002010-10-31T06:34:03.388-07:00The Navel of the WorldThe time is slipping away from me, but that's appropriate, because we're visiting some timeless places. It's been more than two weeks since we went to Delphi, in many ways the center of the ancient Greek world, on a quick two-day bus trip from Athens. We made one other stop on the way, at the monastery of Osios Loukas, St. Lukas, who lived in the tenth century. Here's a link to read all about him and the place, with better pictures than mine: <a href="http://www.mlahanas.de/Greeks/Medieval/Arch/HossiosLoucas.html">http://www.mlahanas.de/Greeks/Medieval/Arch/HossiosLoucas.html</a>. We had lunch there, high on the slopes of Mt. Helicon, with only a few other tourists around, the weather gloomy and mysterious as it remained for the next two days, and our mood appropriately chastened and sanctified in this sacred Christian site for our next stop at the ancient Greek sanctuary of Apollo. I'm going to use one of the pictures from this site for our portrait for this blog site, but here are a few others. The first is of the two connected churches with some of the monastery on the left; the second is the Christ Pancrator at the top of the dome whose eyes follow you everywhere; the third is the mummy of St. Lukas, which Annabel insisted on me taking a picture of despite the flash-ban and the difficulty of seeing anything grisly in the glass case. He's in there, I promise. When her camera had run out of charge Annabel was always asking me to take pictures of the grisly stuff, plus of course of cats and rabbits and dogs and bugs and cute stuff.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGNMs6d5SWAGyhee1N6e7tTbBxo2igPRHrZpZDiN_if5KlBuW5aoRjvIBgRzh6bWQnY1Tlyi9jb1VZdWgj7OLsp0ib0Tfxnf8uOWXnNq6xbblhcQ4DWZHxWbZAf7b1VUzcfEStYb8OviU/s1600/Osios+Loukas+churches.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGNMs6d5SWAGyhee1N6e7tTbBxo2igPRHrZpZDiN_if5KlBuW5aoRjvIBgRzh6bWQnY1Tlyi9jb1VZdWgj7OLsp0ib0Tfxnf8uOWXnNq6xbblhcQ4DWZHxWbZAf7b1VUzcfEStYb8OviU/s320/Osios+Loukas+churches.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimEM6mxs6vT2VntYOi7F7UECqvUbf6t8RMbQoM3lDmV_IluZDr9gpG4eRR7IYoa0q8WQOc4ll4HOhrO0HT1hNaNxQxRxUXPe3176FNrLKCG0DRlEIwRLk5_lQBI9VugvDn3rEWDc7PPAo/s1600/eyes+following+you.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimEM6mxs6vT2VntYOi7F7UECqvUbf6t8RMbQoM3lDmV_IluZDr9gpG4eRR7IYoa0q8WQOc4ll4HOhrO0HT1hNaNxQxRxUXPe3176FNrLKCG0DRlEIwRLk5_lQBI9VugvDn3rEWDc7PPAo/s320/eyes+following+you.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixTBMEZKFuyDtvVxbCRXoAlTiG-UDBkm7mjY5JMIjWfmoHjIJ3dW4Q6ViS70iE7BuPctvHFdm4zqJ4DLAIF_4bKkGZvpEDzOSTVHbTmIM1OMBD_1N1TyjZR3Wi9Rn_1KQuO9XzAu93kV8/s1600/Osios+Loukas+mummy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixTBMEZKFuyDtvVxbCRXoAlTiG-UDBkm7mjY5JMIjWfmoHjIJ3dW4Q6ViS70iE7BuPctvHFdm4zqJ4DLAIF_4bKkGZvpEDzOSTVHbTmIM1OMBD_1N1TyjZR3Wi9Rn_1KQuO9XzAu93kV8/s320/Osios+Loukas+mummy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
For this excursion, and for Delphi in particular, I need a new excuse for why my pictures are so bad. Let's see, I've already used "haven't learned how to work the camera," "the weather was cloudy/hazy," and "flash wasn't allowed." How about, "it was the scale of the site that made the difference, and that was impossible to capture in this format"? In other words, you had to be there? The ultimate photographer's cop-out. But regardless of the poor quality of the photos, there's no question that the power of Delphi came largely from its setting. As Michael reminded us often, when the Greeks went about picking sacred sites, what mattered was location, location, location. We went first to the Temple of Athena and practice race track, just below the main site, and I'll try with a couple of pictures to convey something of the setting, but you'll have to help by imagining sheer rock walls looming above, mountains all around, and the valley floor some distance below. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrM6JeLHPS0Qo2py4l1KI9Bw79BqZiXDBhQtSC34vyANK37NzPN67LRA6Mizr2r-5ycYIc5Vqm5wQA2Grl_GimYoBO3sRYRXHmqInFXu-TlveMenZpYde-f3atqykKx9DUvk5BeKgAjnU/s1600/Delphi1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrM6JeLHPS0Qo2py4l1KI9Bw79BqZiXDBhQtSC34vyANK37NzPN67LRA6Mizr2r-5ycYIc5Vqm5wQA2Grl_GimYoBO3sRYRXHmqInFXu-TlveMenZpYde-f3atqykKx9DUvk5BeKgAjnU/s320/Delphi1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghwGlNMse8b0-BA966ekW6F-ItheU_lai8SU0O9k0SmX9f85qRLH8LVhCUEfRvN1EGBeUIJqq9OIsEyIUVCEdb4e8Zas_TYcSGzSZZPU1AZ73z0DNUSjNxTLfHWQcmtHF2QUI3o4Hlnw8/s1600/Delphi2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghwGlNMse8b0-BA966ekW6F-ItheU_lai8SU0O9k0SmX9f85qRLH8LVhCUEfRvN1EGBeUIJqq9OIsEyIUVCEdb4e8Zas_TYcSGzSZZPU1AZ73z0DNUSjNxTLfHWQcmtHF2QUI3o4Hlnw8/s320/Delphi2.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwhPtKQ9NfckEyfh9D10ph28ZpZI3of_nNbdoLaFi4oPeg_39iLJBIZYSf5Gf4rKdqI9UVoWepAv8tzGUsVWYeTdOHAm3xBeVOLM5Fd0bn1AF_N_mj_qfsqDNqteQwQajlQ1u3Fw1Zc68/s1600/Delphi3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwhPtKQ9NfckEyfh9D10ph28ZpZI3of_nNbdoLaFi4oPeg_39iLJBIZYSf5Gf4rKdqI9UVoWepAv8tzGUsVWYeTdOHAm3xBeVOLM5Fd0bn1AF_N_mj_qfsqDNqteQwQajlQ1u3Fw1Zc68/s320/Delphi3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
In addition to being the home of the most respected and frequently consulted oracle of ancient Greece, Delphi also hosted one of the four principal pan-Hellenic athletic competitions (the one at Olympia being the most famous of the four these days, having given its name to the modern revival of such competitions). The stadium where the runners competed was closed at the time we were there, although I got a good view down into it later, but the practice track was near Athena's temple, and after Michael demonstrated the appropriate form, several of the girls took their positions with toes at the starting line.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv45gbhIqPnNQtjTXGxdKHPkII6qEeEe4xzB5rKuKyDJo99bwUKPcKh1KMR8B9tTkzNc_wIgNvrKHO3PYcBI44XIjqKb4qDqxWw9ntgc6SYOAvagS3fVoX8J2mu0bu1z-w6sFAJGlGiPQ/s1600/Delphi5+Michael+racing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv45gbhIqPnNQtjTXGxdKHPkII6qEeEe4xzB5rKuKyDJo99bwUKPcKh1KMR8B9tTkzNc_wIgNvrKHO3PYcBI44XIjqKb4qDqxWw9ntgc6SYOAvagS3fVoX8J2mu0bu1z-w6sFAJGlGiPQ/s320/Delphi5+Michael+racing.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnDR0zNZYMGOWG706dfvPr8UGXHPifrNI8W5kqkRTy78j1za8QaGSgTrov5-4JAw6NGOQ0TSgdXvIZ9CMWRNrP7jarSj6v68QsdFW0PlvHlZe1fYRcwY_c3xRFSGt_w-PBXxQIVRqQ3GU/s1600/Delphi6+girls+starting+out.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnDR0zNZYMGOWG706dfvPr8UGXHPifrNI8W5kqkRTy78j1za8QaGSgTrov5-4JAw6NGOQ0TSgdXvIZ9CMWRNrP7jarSj6v68QsdFW0PlvHlZe1fYRcwY_c3xRFSGt_w-PBXxQIVRqQ3GU/s320/Delphi6+girls+starting+out.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJYW_wDaMtTev93DmSa0qPad06_d0IzjGqEUicHuZr157rql8KOyChgFhr5umw5liZh0SPJSDJx9jBy7-dFK_4uB9lANkULGZqcTsXMtgX1cPxZzcxJIbi2MkP2gVSsPVxpqpH5guG3IQ/s1600/Delphi7+Meredith+sucking+down+holy+water.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJYW_wDaMtTev93DmSa0qPad06_d0IzjGqEUicHuZr157rql8KOyChgFhr5umw5liZh0SPJSDJx9jBy7-dFK_4uB9lANkULGZqcTsXMtgX1cPxZzcxJIbi2MkP2gVSsPVxpqpH5guG3IQ/s320/Delphi7+Meredith+sucking+down+holy+water.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
After such strenuous effort, naturally we had to re-hydrate. This is Meredith sucking down holy water from the sacred springs, which unfortunately has been chemically tested and shown not to contain any hallucinatory or other mind-altering substances. Which doesn't keep some investigators from continuing to look for environmental factors contributing to the awesome powers of the Oracle. Factors, that is, beyond merely having a giant temple in a large, richly decorated sanctuary in one of the most beautiful spots in the world. I guess the prophetic powers had to come first, in order to provoke all the statues and temples. But even in ruins this seems like a wonderful place to get in touch with whatever mystical powers one happens to believe in.<br />
<br />
Our next stop was the hotel, perched on the cliffs at the lower edge of the town of Delphi, which was very small, entirely dedicated to tourists (and already partly closed down for the season), stacked in four or five rows along the side of the mountain. That mountain was Parnassus, home of the muses, and it stretched for miles above the sanctuary and the town. I had floated the idea of climbing it, or at least partway up it, to experience a scene from <i>The Magus</i>, one of the novels we were reading in my literature class. But when the time came there were no takers. I, however, could not resist, and knowing the daylight was limited, made brief inquiries at the hotel desk and then headed up. Straight up. For the first fifteen minutes I was slipping along in a muddy goat track, the heat and humidity were bringing out all manner of insects, and I thought seriously about turning around. But then I hit the main path, a gentler, switchbacking, rock-"paved" trail that wound up the mountain above the town. There were still lots of insects, but stopping to take pictures of them gave me an excuse to rest. At times I thought I might lose the trail and the view in the clouds, but the weather improved all the way up. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVmJkxS3sxprFb4YlniNkAjR-QN_9NXVEJqgnhUIM0AIPk4EBlcCtwvMncS6-jbfZuyh7UQG2p7zonp94vFbaGHXbovKIiMvIL41MGl95hU_qbkJjg7zhr9GNPToIjrWPakxIDoptKU-s/s1600/Delphi9+dung+beetle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVmJkxS3sxprFb4YlniNkAjR-QN_9NXVEJqgnhUIM0AIPk4EBlcCtwvMncS6-jbfZuyh7UQG2p7zonp94vFbaGHXbovKIiMvIL41MGl95hU_qbkJjg7zhr9GNPToIjrWPakxIDoptKU-s/s320/Delphi9+dung+beetle.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsFPQ_gWLQPXTayYxqdOKrbOKUFDAtTtmC5vHk69Z_DyKuk36-mHEbWPlIfSq2N-N45w44cxMfQWA_Ymkps47Tbe2FVcvxGpqK3K7eytPlsTBBxXh64rCunHXFQsnbZl931vC7ruNbZOA/s1600/Delphi10+ant+swarm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsFPQ_gWLQPXTayYxqdOKrbOKUFDAtTtmC5vHk69Z_DyKuk36-mHEbWPlIfSq2N-N45w44cxMfQWA_Ymkps47Tbe2FVcvxGpqK3K7eytPlsTBBxXh64rCunHXFQsnbZl931vC7ruNbZOA/s320/Delphi10+ant+swarm.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTMHBhH4CWMTHtF7SLxHlklJRvSuyonh9MSUczsI823KQngMTgc_O1MvBuTGI_IO3f0hirhHg8yxVbBzvMvSE8Y-BagMME1_4lJtTpA3XMkBPvcnxVCaCM0brHxaTl7SNaDhOnkjgaRhk/s1600/Delphi11+view+from+above.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTMHBhH4CWMTHtF7SLxHlklJRvSuyonh9MSUczsI823KQngMTgc_O1MvBuTGI_IO3f0hirhHg8yxVbBzvMvSE8Y-BagMME1_4lJtTpA3XMkBPvcnxVCaCM0brHxaTl7SNaDhOnkjgaRhk/s320/Delphi11+view+from+above.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFqYD4DB4G6sbcr0PdWFiQisPzYt87tCTGwLy2tD1C0XLPdIZjCvPs3oSTryFUG0_VUIxLMIKXLqu0xBttDy0honz_NxJ0fGEjz_HGFy9PcvHNXTIRVULngyG7dA7e3PXQBtPhdjQ6yVE/s1600/Delphi12+trail+disappearing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFqYD4DB4G6sbcr0PdWFiQisPzYt87tCTGwLy2tD1C0XLPdIZjCvPs3oSTryFUG0_VUIxLMIKXLqu0xBttDy0honz_NxJ0fGEjz_HGFy9PcvHNXTIRVULngyG7dA7e3PXQBtPhdjQ6yVE/s320/Delphi12+trail+disappearing.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
At the center-bottom of the third picture you can see the site of Athena's temple and the race track, alongside the road we came in on, at roughly the same elevation as our hotel--in other words, where I started from. I tried in the last picture to convey something of the tricky footing as well as the fog rolling in--it was tougher going down than up, of course, but in both cases I had to look down most of the time when I really wanted to be looking up and out.<br />
<br />
At just above the point where the third picture was taken I crested out onto the upper plateau. I still had a trail, for a while, heading inwards and slightly upwards, but I had no idea where it was going. I knew the approach was relatively gentle, and the peak itself not particularly dramatic, but I also thought that it was farther away than I was going to be able to cover before dark. After about ten minutes heading up onto the plateau I heard something...unexpected.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU0t4wEdhWRhsZXMylb6AhL3gg4bOBroxcnOgZm7viInf8nHSuQWp12Bo2dfjCLkiH_nF5bHXC0eHRVqbYhyphenhyphenFUfmwR6Y2l6Ij213p6HUqwQaRcY6Timo0d7y4mVssxuILQtHu4eRbj3nI/s1600/Delphi14+goats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU0t4wEdhWRhsZXMylb6AhL3gg4bOBroxcnOgZm7viInf8nHSuQWp12Bo2dfjCLkiH_nF5bHXC0eHRVqbYhyphenhyphenFUfmwR6Y2l6Ij213p6HUqwQaRcY6Timo0d7y4mVssxuILQtHu4eRbj3nI/s320/Delphi14+goats.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
No, it wasn't the goat bells. I'd been expecting those, and even looking forward to them, while dodging goat poop along what was more and more clearly becoming a goat trail that I was following. No, it was something else.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRHybetvyY7i_dLRR9G-BUbRM4Y1fsfflkrSf3q5MzQe3mQmCK9JWJlJw798mEwwzW-rb4Op5jW_cU-S38ImMNQna6I5_rlgN2XxTVMoezZtQFeQsQeLRLSABxZdihNG7W9gFSIpmRros/s1600/Delphi13+car+shows+up.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRHybetvyY7i_dLRR9G-BUbRM4Y1fsfflkrSf3q5MzQe3mQmCK9JWJlJw798mEwwzW-rb4Op5jW_cU-S38ImMNQna6I5_rlgN2XxTVMoezZtQFeQsQeLRLSABxZdihNG7W9gFSIpmRros/s320/Delphi13+car+shows+up.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Just when I was thinking there was no one here but me and the goats, along comes the goatherd, or maybe his teenage daughter, taking the tiny blue family car out for a spin. Just after seeing the car I came in view of a couple of farmhouses, and while my sense of athletic accomplishment was considerably diminished, I nevertheless took pleasure in seeing a little bit of the rural life of Parnassus, including meeting a very friendly goat-dog, and wandering off-trail while following a hundred-odd long-horned goats across the heather for a while. <br />
<br />
Pretty soon, however, I realized that the dark was coming on, and travel over the thorny and rocky ground was easier for goats than it was for me. A bit of sun came out on some white rocks at the top of a small rise, or else the rocks glowed with their own inner light, being so chalk-white, but in any event I decided that I'd been given a sign, and here was my destination. I rested, took a few pictures in the general direction of what I thought might be the summit of Parnassus (this one with my camera bag n the foreground among the glowing white rocks), and then headed back down the mountain with the keen sense of disappointment I always feel when I am forced to surrender altitude.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpxkUl1UiHh2pAhHIaB6R6dDdIUcPMN0vmbw7icXXdgcxMBMbcld5wFYPha0e6gG9_pZFvzawe5NRC_Iy9VKN5grFuLM0aPP4MlbCu-1bw6j8Zp6b06QMR3Mwj22aP5dgf_kkbtnjK3I0/s1600/Delphi14+summit+of+Parnassus%3f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpxkUl1UiHh2pAhHIaB6R6dDdIUcPMN0vmbw7icXXdgcxMBMbcld5wFYPha0e6gG9_pZFvzawe5NRC_Iy9VKN5grFuLM0aPP4MlbCu-1bw6j8Zp6b06QMR3Mwj22aP5dgf_kkbtnjK3I0/s320/Delphi14+summit+of+Parnassus%3f.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Alex and Annabel had done a little shopping, but mostly just sat on the terrace of our room and enjoyed the view. That's a little corner of the Gulf of Corinth down there, by the town of Itea, where we later saw the thousand and one lights of a huge cruise ship, and the whole flat valley is one big olive orchard.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPwUpI8mvTM3DyvMYIR9upvVy2cVAoej2wgI6JrQPOG8ejVnmPALHNrl21jaj1fDjXlZRXQAKNKhdrJPhiKCqsLden-l0pOdG00zMOpt1ZJ_WdW4KH2OfDiJ4N0DjnMh2oTqBc4IPR7SQ/s1600/Delphi8+view+from+our+balcony.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPwUpI8mvTM3DyvMYIR9upvVy2cVAoej2wgI6JrQPOG8ejVnmPALHNrl21jaj1fDjXlZRXQAKNKhdrJPhiKCqsLden-l0pOdG00zMOpt1ZJ_WdW4KH2OfDiJ4N0DjnMh2oTqBc4IPR7SQ/s320/Delphi8+view+from+our+balcony.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Annabel saw one of the few bats of her entire life at the harbor on Paros, but in the fading light at Delphi she got to see them swooping all around us, eating those abundant insects on a warm autumn evening. We both tried hard to get pictures, but with little success--this was the best of a bad lot.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimE7pUYcPY4YkUaQj4Dwed5ZrJV4kg6aKpg1PqCxASYw9J36qE1YO13YyMhmEkX_UlN1nNzYA6W-M8T91Hb7sqxaBkN9rTYgk-jSJsdu_4hbK6SgqVg2oEyutaUnFH2QTX4KyjWZIoVCQ/s1600/Delphi15bat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimE7pUYcPY4YkUaQj4Dwed5ZrJV4kg6aKpg1PqCxASYw9J36qE1YO13YyMhmEkX_UlN1nNzYA6W-M8T91Hb7sqxaBkN9rTYgk-jSJsdu_4hbK6SgqVg2oEyutaUnFH2QTX4KyjWZIoVCQ/s320/Delphi15bat.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The next day we visited the sanctuary of Apollo and the fancy museum. I took relatively few pictures, partly because it was another gloomy day, partly because I was intimidated by the challenge of capturing this mystical place, and partly because I was getting a little tired of having the camera in front of my face all the time. But I offer one shot of the temple of Apollo from above, one shot of a stone wall covered by manumission inscriptions (having it in rock at Delphi pretty much guaranteed no one would call you a slave anymore, plus you spent money thanking the gods for your freedom in the process), and a few pictures from the museum.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzkkTPY2YcD7N8WqOaH2eEC79GADtHGr6bbs7yS5KoAjQqE6Afi2EmXM2r8ylZeKQuYLgZck9F0pP3Oa-FK_JmwshkTYbAl88-Qk5HRX2tZ_vuRphsbf_QVfs77XWA27Uk2QW6TJYMO_8/s1600/Delphi17+temple+of+Apollo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzkkTPY2YcD7N8WqOaH2eEC79GADtHGr6bbs7yS5KoAjQqE6Afi2EmXM2r8ylZeKQuYLgZck9F0pP3Oa-FK_JmwshkTYbAl88-Qk5HRX2tZ_vuRphsbf_QVfs77XWA27Uk2QW6TJYMO_8/s320/Delphi17+temple+of+Apollo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibKuDBNWI5lsjmYzRI5Vv8w3dYu2mAkGKmZnuhvKTnorFyCJoM6tfNY0Pykc0FObdRJ3DGQRLWxgtNVNiPLkXERhtR1YM-ksEPULyFWia5itdvpAERU9a5oRLzLCyQJ0_xXo3qh04gxeo/s1600/Delphi16+manumission+inscriptions.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibKuDBNWI5lsjmYzRI5Vv8w3dYu2mAkGKmZnuhvKTnorFyCJoM6tfNY0Pykc0FObdRJ3DGQRLWxgtNVNiPLkXERhtR1YM-ksEPULyFWia5itdvpAERU9a5oRLzLCyQJ0_xXo3qh04gxeo/s320/Delphi16+manumission+inscriptions.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrVsp94oIRuTdsoEE_i4p85YJNhrjxYyCDkZ8x8FD5PwRuGNWPTAXI_Ccj39fyfoBUJa7wKFQtFtbgqeFIeAZPnhORsr6FF_D5EwOo8xSA1-uJHblwcjD_-8nLXx_ZVAFwAdQ8zljkC2I/s1600/Delphi22+Theseus+beating+up+a+girl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrVsp94oIRuTdsoEE_i4p85YJNhrjxYyCDkZ8x8FD5PwRuGNWPTAXI_Ccj39fyfoBUJa7wKFQtFtbgqeFIeAZPnhORsr6FF_D5EwOo8xSA1-uJHblwcjD_-8nLXx_ZVAFwAdQ8zljkC2I/s320/Delphi22+Theseus+beating+up+a+girl.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg__Cbc-hjDNQSUjPCJ0S_B8B9GCAbxQDN8RgA7j59BMjIOpO0L5yB1g_9hJfYRbd2PPmTgxOLa29p8xBcR0OU61-LTEKEkrVylkRkhSDiUX_v_AK56rlAeXuBvgvBKSRcb-5IEdRS7dB8/s1600/Delphi21+hymn+with+music.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg__Cbc-hjDNQSUjPCJ0S_B8B9GCAbxQDN8RgA7j59BMjIOpO0L5yB1g_9hJfYRbd2PPmTgxOLa29p8xBcR0OU61-LTEKEkrVylkRkhSDiUX_v_AK56rlAeXuBvgvBKSRcb-5IEdRS7dB8/s320/Delphi21+hymn+with+music.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsUa7GT_MUnvVk0tVDNDsfJARq0LbXW-NXNyBBKBrpkzXkliVtISkobLb3pLpecjIqD0u1WxCIUeWLg6lT_n9wJJPTyVnGYDmR-OHTsPvVzSU9YWClgKkjq0FoREMb5NkYwBRPbxM7JC8/s1600/Delphi18+philosopher+statue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsUa7GT_MUnvVk0tVDNDsfJARq0LbXW-NXNyBBKBrpkzXkliVtISkobLb3pLpecjIqD0u1WxCIUeWLg6lT_n9wJJPTyVnGYDmR-OHTsPvVzSU9YWClgKkjq0FoREMb5NkYwBRPbxM7JC8/s320/Delphi18+philosopher+statue.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
Everything in this very attractive museum came from Delphi. There are a lot of fragmented metopes, bits of temple or treasury frieze with scenes from Greek myth-history, like the one in the third picture above. Lots of gods-vs.-giants and battle-with-the-centaurs and various accomplishments of Herakles and Theseus. Especially Theseus. The Spartans had already called dibs on Herakles as mythical founder of their city-state, so the Athenians had to look around for someone comparable, and through strenuous aesthetic effort on walls and pots, and by dint of having all the best storytellers, they managed to elevate Theseus into even more heroic stature. I couldn't resist including a shot of Theseus beating up on a girl. Well, it <i>was</i> an Amazon, not just any old girl. (Michael tells us there is new evidence for an Asia Minor culture that included women warriors, so maybe there's more to the Amazon story than mere gynophobia.) Another reason to include a shot of Theseus is that he was my first dramatic role, as Annabel keeps reminding me whenever we hear more about him.<br />
<br />
The fourth picture above is a hymn, complete with musical notation. Music and lyrics from 2500 years ago--how cool is that?!?<br />
<br />
The last one is for my friend Joseph. It's a statue of a philosopher, perhaps a particular famous one such as Socrates, but certainly a philosopher. That was a time when you knew a philosopher just from looking at him, I guess, something about the skepticism in his eyes, or the insouciance with which he wore his leather jacket--er, I mean, himation.<br />
<br />
Delphi is a wonderful place to commune with one's household gods, or one's monotheistic monolith of a God, or whatever one chooses to invest with spirit and wisdom. Much of the power of this place comes, as I've said, from its natural beauty, and so rather than a statue or column, I leave you with one last bug, though I promise it won't be <i>the</i> last bug of this blog, though it just may be the prettiest.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcbM0s9ARaIvM33fnYvZi0ozFayqIqJlwAbQ1aRG5hoqgNLFIUlB8V1hSRV8AkRoEycR2AXrBgYKhOiSi2XUZDQ5VyLZgfOdd6-lEK8MbDkcTTgHVUeQbW-8PpkyU4NeBULhjjAxml3Ws/s1600/Delphi4+gold+bug.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcbM0s9ARaIvM33fnYvZi0ozFayqIqJlwAbQ1aRG5hoqgNLFIUlB8V1hSRV8AkRoEycR2AXrBgYKhOiSi2XUZDQ5VyLZgfOdd6-lEK8MbDkcTTgHVUeQbW-8PpkyU4NeBULhjjAxml3Ws/s320/Delphi4+gold+bug.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> Eric Heynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13966355802850256623noreply@blogger.com0