Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Nothing is Free, Pesky Release Dates and More
What's a girl to do? A new Carolyn Mark record hot off the press and no way to get my hands on it due to the fact that I'm a lowly non-Canadian and therefore not meant to benefit from the July release. Must wait until September.
September?
Hmmmmmm.
Nothing is Free. Nothing is Free.
But, sometimes things should be if they're incredibly difficult to get one's impatient little ears on. One searches the web, tries to join Canadian download services while procrastinating on the script-writing. You know the deal. Lots of surfing and cursing. So for me, the damn record should be free.
Now the better news! I've circumvented all problems related to this nationality challenged 'release date' issue. Simply click on the title of this blog and buy the record.
'Cause it's great. Great, great, great. Double that when you realize if you buy it now you get to listen with a lemonade vodka in hand, in the cooling night air in front of a roaring barbeque with friends nearby. Or on the beach. Or with a window open. Summer fun. It's all about summer fun. So get yourself some.
Put down that lame record at the Starbucks counter! AND the Paul McCartney mid-life crisis!
Live on the edge and embrace your inner Van-Couver.
September?
Hmmmmmm.
Nothing is Free. Nothing is Free.
But, sometimes things should be if they're incredibly difficult to get one's impatient little ears on. One searches the web, tries to join Canadian download services while procrastinating on the script-writing. You know the deal. Lots of surfing and cursing. So for me, the damn record should be free.
Now the better news! I've circumvented all problems related to this nationality challenged 'release date' issue. Simply click on the title of this blog and buy the record.
'Cause it's great. Great, great, great. Double that when you realize if you buy it now you get to listen with a lemonade vodka in hand, in the cooling night air in front of a roaring barbeque with friends nearby. Or on the beach. Or with a window open. Summer fun. It's all about summer fun. So get yourself some.
Put down that lame record at the Starbucks counter! AND the Paul McCartney mid-life crisis!
Live on the edge and embrace your inner Van-Couver.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Virgin Gorda
It feels as though it's been weeks already - the continuity of days, their blandness and the sun. Strange the way a long vacation settles over a person like a blanket - went to dinner last night (alone) and tried to put words to how I felt. Could only come up with muffled. Wrapped in a lovely warm blanket.
Wonderful to have so much time with the boys -- they're just as peachy and perfect covered in sand as they are trotting about the city.
On a deeper level though, it all causes me to wonder about my own future and what I want at this stage in my life.
Ho-hum. Serious thoughts.
Back to reality next post, promise. A dive should help, plunge into the sea and de-fog.
Wonderful to have so much time with the boys -- they're just as peachy and perfect covered in sand as they are trotting about the city.
On a deeper level though, it all causes me to wonder about my own future and what I want at this stage in my life.
Ho-hum. Serious thoughts.
Back to reality next post, promise. A dive should help, plunge into the sea and de-fog.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Damn you and your eternal rightness!
So, I'm in Georgia and it's only a little after 10 a.m. - I tried to get a run in early. After days in the car, logging in miles was necessary to not only body, but mind. And, I'm running my usual route, out of the neighborhood and a left down a windy road that, to be honest, has always spooked me out a little bit given its proximity to gun-toting Confederate flag fliers...and Neko Case's song DEEP RED BELLS comes on. Now, I've always found that song just genius. The weird out of sync bridge with the 'soul casting about' lyrics - a perfection of modern murder ballad that is always evocative of itself, only. Self-referential, if you will. But, this time something different happened.
I was explicitly reminded of this movie I just netflixed at the recommendation of a friend (hence the title of this posting - and I am only referring to cultural matters BTW). THE DEAD GIRL - Karen Moncrieff's sophomore film effort - which is such a flawed film. Five seperate stories meant to form a whole, centered around the titular character (played to perfection by Brittany Murphy - whom I don't even like). So, it's not such a great film. You can watch it and say hmmmm...that bit of story is a little off and the script is not perfect there....BUT, the thing just stays with you anyway. Which must (in my mind) make it a true example of good filmmaking. In the truest sense of filmmaking - the visual one.
So my song and my run and the shady patches of grass with grease-stained thrown out the window bags of KFC....the humid air and the morning's rain blowing off the trees and cooling my face...it all made me think of parts of this movie.
And how it's really a good film.
Random morning thoughts from Georgia.
I was explicitly reminded of this movie I just netflixed at the recommendation of a friend (hence the title of this posting - and I am only referring to cultural matters BTW). THE DEAD GIRL - Karen Moncrieff's sophomore film effort - which is such a flawed film. Five seperate stories meant to form a whole, centered around the titular character (played to perfection by Brittany Murphy - whom I don't even like). So, it's not such a great film. You can watch it and say hmmmm...that bit of story is a little off and the script is not perfect there....BUT, the thing just stays with you anyway. Which must (in my mind) make it a true example of good filmmaking. In the truest sense of filmmaking - the visual one.
So my song and my run and the shady patches of grass with grease-stained thrown out the window bags of KFC....the humid air and the morning's rain blowing off the trees and cooling my face...it all made me think of parts of this movie.
And how it's really a good film.
Random morning thoughts from Georgia.
Friday, June 15, 2007
T-shirt
I really want a 'fuck frank gehry' t-shirt.
(note: still holding back from buying clothes - even $35 ones due to the dress debacle)
I am now adding up everything that I DON'T buy and I REALLY want. When I reach the price of the dress I will let myself off the hook. This is a small insight into the way I think. Now we'll see if I can do it. An aside, I tried buying milk and making my own coffee in the mornings to add the $3.50/day to my total BUT I find Maggie's too enjoyable and now end up just drinking way more coffee than anyone needs to ever.)
(note: still holding back from buying clothes - even $35 ones due to the dress debacle)
I am now adding up everything that I DON'T buy and I REALLY want. When I reach the price of the dress I will let myself off the hook. This is a small insight into the way I think. Now we'll see if I can do it. An aside, I tried buying milk and making my own coffee in the mornings to add the $3.50/day to my total BUT I find Maggie's too enjoyable and now end up just drinking way more coffee than anyone needs to ever.)
CLICK THIS LINK FOR FUN TIMES
Or maybe not such fun times - depending on how you feel about taking an airplane to a faraway place and meeting up with locals who are into showing you their city.
So, as part of that alone late at night and bored conundrum I've been looking into all sorts of kooky websites. It now seems as though I've found the perfect match for my peripathetic ways. It's called couchsurfing.com and it's basically a social networking site for people who love to travel to crazy (or not so crazy) places, and want to.....you guessed it, couchsurf. OK. See, some of you are saying that's not so fun. Why would I want to do that? Others of you might be clicking the link already, gleefully even.
If the couch part doesn't put a smile on your face, maybe the 'meet for a drink or coffee' feature is more your speed.
It's way cool, trust me. As addictive as lastfm - wow. What if they merge...now, that would be the dreamiest.
Also, you get to make an interactive pin map of places you've traveled.
I go by the imaginative name of hliz.
Go figure.
So, as part of that alone late at night and bored conundrum I've been looking into all sorts of kooky websites. It now seems as though I've found the perfect match for my peripathetic ways. It's called couchsurfing.com and it's basically a social networking site for people who love to travel to crazy (or not so crazy) places, and want to.....you guessed it, couchsurf. OK. See, some of you are saying that's not so fun. Why would I want to do that? Others of you might be clicking the link already, gleefully even.
If the couch part doesn't put a smile on your face, maybe the 'meet for a drink or coffee' feature is more your speed.
It's way cool, trust me. As addictive as lastfm - wow. What if they merge...now, that would be the dreamiest.
Also, you get to make an interactive pin map of places you've traveled.
I go by the imaginative name of hliz.
Go figure.
New Color Scheme
Listen, I know it's ugly. You know it's ugly.
But, I was bored and it was late at night. Plus, I've always liked red.
But, I was bored and it was late at night. Plus, I've always liked red.
Saturday, June 09, 2007
Tour buses and grey dresses
Strange clues that life sometimes has to offer...
Anyway, passing time in New York City. Tracking the Tori Amos tour late at night and reading AFFLICTION by Russell Banks; trying to feel the city in summer as the Sopranos draws to a close and all of the free music tents go up. Only here for another week and here only a week so far - though it feels interminable for some reason. Not the seeing friends part, not the walking for ice creams with Jack part -- but, the other moments. The ones where I am alone and still refusing to buy my own carton of milk, in favor of storebought ice coffees and an empty refrigerator.
Ping-pong ballish.
Logging in hours at the computer and taking breaks with brand new iTunes purchases. Waiting for the new Carolyn Mark record with at least half the excitement of waiting for the Tori. Contemplating aloud the merits of ON CHESEL BEACH and chatting for hours on the phone. Walking the same few blocks.
Trying to kick into a handstand every few days.
'Feeling radical in cotton
purified in my satin...'
What else...all things, many things. New York things. Alone things. Not so alone things. Strange times and new dresses that I don't want so much.
Anyway, passing time in New York City. Tracking the Tori Amos tour late at night and reading AFFLICTION by Russell Banks; trying to feel the city in summer as the Sopranos draws to a close and all of the free music tents go up. Only here for another week and here only a week so far - though it feels interminable for some reason. Not the seeing friends part, not the walking for ice creams with Jack part -- but, the other moments. The ones where I am alone and still refusing to buy my own carton of milk, in favor of storebought ice coffees and an empty refrigerator.
Ping-pong ballish.
Logging in hours at the computer and taking breaks with brand new iTunes purchases. Waiting for the new Carolyn Mark record with at least half the excitement of waiting for the Tori. Contemplating aloud the merits of ON CHESEL BEACH and chatting for hours on the phone. Walking the same few blocks.
Trying to kick into a handstand every few days.
'Feeling radical in cotton
purified in my satin...'
What else...all things, many things. New York things. Alone things. Not so alone things. Strange times and new dresses that I don't want so much.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Monday, May 28, 2007
A weekend's worth....
Having no internet access in Durango, I'm sure I've missed the chance to record a few highlights (bad memory and all that...)
What lovely country! Apparent from the first few miles in the rental car - heading out of Albuquerque on Route 550, through myriad Indian reservations that looked nothing more than miles of empty land decorated by stacked red rocks, mesas and the occasional scrub. Six of us in the car fighting over radio stations...and, then, wrong directions:)
On the other end, in Durango - what a place! Great looking from the outside, the unusual angles of a restored schoolhouse jutting up from the trees. Way back and way up, out of the valley and closer to the snow covered peaks to the North.
Lovely, lovely to spend time with friends, who I love so damn much! Could have sat around on the porch and just enjoyed the company, but...that wasn't in the cards because there was so much nature (and carnie-life) beckoning from beyond.
First paddling trip! Class III + rapids and my raft did go up on end in one breath-taking moment, but I managed to stay in and continue loving the whole thing. Although the beer clasped between my wet-suited legs suffered greatly...MM in a kayak, looking sharp as ever. A raft full of fun behind along with a few other duckies (one of which not so lucky on the dips - CB handling his drenching like a champ! Go, Chris!!!!!).
Less dramatic, but just as beautiful...a hike up Animus Mountain, a solo walk...night out at the local parking lot carnival. Skipped the Zipper and went for what proved to be a LAME funhouse (one of the 'fun' mirrors were taped up! HEYYYYYYYYYYYYY). Had the best bbq'ed veggie burgers of my life and the strongest margheritas, to boot! Thanks, KLB.
Best moment of the weekend though -------- let it be known that CARON ALLISON WOODWARD appeared on the CA Bar Exam PASS list. You go, pumpkin! Couldn't be prouder or happier for you (and I'll never forget NEVER FORGET that scary moment of hitting 'go' on my phone browser and being the only person in the world to know the answer....!!!!! Yikers!)
Lotsa love to all the ex-Maryland'ers who made it out. And, to the one that didn't. (MS, you know we picked next year's spot....)
What lovely country! Apparent from the first few miles in the rental car - heading out of Albuquerque on Route 550, through myriad Indian reservations that looked nothing more than miles of empty land decorated by stacked red rocks, mesas and the occasional scrub. Six of us in the car fighting over radio stations...and, then, wrong directions:)
On the other end, in Durango - what a place! Great looking from the outside, the unusual angles of a restored schoolhouse jutting up from the trees. Way back and way up, out of the valley and closer to the snow covered peaks to the North.
Lovely, lovely to spend time with friends, who I love so damn much! Could have sat around on the porch and just enjoyed the company, but...that wasn't in the cards because there was so much nature (and carnie-life) beckoning from beyond.
First paddling trip! Class III + rapids and my raft did go up on end in one breath-taking moment, but I managed to stay in and continue loving the whole thing. Although the beer clasped between my wet-suited legs suffered greatly...MM in a kayak, looking sharp as ever. A raft full of fun behind along with a few other duckies (one of which not so lucky on the dips - CB handling his drenching like a champ! Go, Chris!!!!!).
Less dramatic, but just as beautiful...a hike up Animus Mountain, a solo walk...night out at the local parking lot carnival. Skipped the Zipper and went for what proved to be a LAME funhouse (one of the 'fun' mirrors were taped up! HEYYYYYYYYYYYYY). Had the best bbq'ed veggie burgers of my life and the strongest margheritas, to boot! Thanks, KLB.
Best moment of the weekend though -------- let it be known that CARON ALLISON WOODWARD appeared on the CA Bar Exam PASS list. You go, pumpkin! Couldn't be prouder or happier for you (and I'll never forget NEVER FORGET that scary moment of hitting 'go' on my phone browser and being the only person in the world to know the answer....!!!!! Yikers!)
Lotsa love to all the ex-Maryland'ers who made it out. And, to the one that didn't. (MS, you know we picked next year's spot....)
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Friday, May 11, 2007
The Lilacs! Oh, the lilacs....
The Brooklyn Botanical Gardens, Part II started off a bit later, with a boy one size bigger and less accoutrement (no stroller, for instance - something I would come to regret the minute I heard 'Carry Me' echoing out across the Azaleas). Jack and I in a daring feat of interborough travel hopped the 2 train and landed right outside of the Brooklyn Museum. We headed into the gardens themselves in search of the promised 'grass to run on' and made our way to the quickly dying cherry blossoms, which carpeted the esplanade like some delightful pink snow! Almost as fun as looking at them on the trees. Wonderful, sometimes, to realize that we live in a city in which it is possible to land twenty minutes from our doorstep in such a glorious place of nature and beauty. Lilacs fading, but smelling delicious; azaleas blazing in full florescence; wisteria hanging, falling heavily across the pergolas.
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Opera, sunshine and five miles the hard way...
Pretty much sums up my day - oh, except for evening out with M. who never fails to provide adventure of some sort or another...
Difficult as hell to drag myself up to Lincoln Center this afternoon - gorgeous sun and all - but, drag I did and one long subway ride later was happy to be sitting in one of those hard-backed Alice Tully chairs for Tristan and Isolde. Lovely music and inspired projections; I'm always a fan of Bill Viola...particularly struck by one sequence of CU male and female faces immersed in a bowl of perfectly clear water. Almost took a full minute before I realized that they were underwater - not 'til the veins stuck up on their foreheads and the wrinkles to the side of their mouths became more pronounced. A wonderful work of art for Viola's part - different and more engrossing than the usual spectacle Wagner requires. Minimalism meeting maximum symphonic arrangement...
Must admit though, I left before the third act. So there.
It was sunny! C'mon! Plus, I gave my stub to a music student. See!?
Perfect end to a week of theater - Cymbeline, Frost/Nixon...life seems to go on. Doesn't it.
Difficult as hell to drag myself up to Lincoln Center this afternoon - gorgeous sun and all - but, drag I did and one long subway ride later was happy to be sitting in one of those hard-backed Alice Tully chairs for Tristan and Isolde. Lovely music and inspired projections; I'm always a fan of Bill Viola...particularly struck by one sequence of CU male and female faces immersed in a bowl of perfectly clear water. Almost took a full minute before I realized that they were underwater - not 'til the veins stuck up on their foreheads and the wrinkles to the side of their mouths became more pronounced. A wonderful work of art for Viola's part - different and more engrossing than the usual spectacle Wagner requires. Minimalism meeting maximum symphonic arrangement...
Must admit though, I left before the third act. So there.
It was sunny! C'mon! Plus, I gave my stub to a music student. See!?
Perfect end to a week of theater - Cymbeline, Frost/Nixon...life seems to go on. Doesn't it.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Avocado Juice (Part II)
O.K. for anyone who wants the recipe...first let me say that it's more trial and error than anything else. But, the basic configuration goes something like this:
1 perfectly ripe to slightly overripe avocado
evaporated milk (about 1/8 cup)
coconut milk (a splash)
ice ('til the blender is about 3/4 full)
If you like things sweet, add a tsp of sugar (however the evaporated milk should do the trick)
Now, make one and enjoy - I promise you won't get it right the first couple of times, but you WILL be addicted!
1 perfectly ripe to slightly overripe avocado
evaporated milk (about 1/8 cup)
coconut milk (a splash)
ice ('til the blender is about 3/4 full)
If you like things sweet, add a tsp of sugar (however the evaporated milk should do the trick)
Now, make one and enjoy - I promise you won't get it right the first couple of times, but you WILL be addicted!
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Kristin + Strings = Bliss
When is the last time you went to a show and saw short films of contortionists projected to a live husband/wife string duo soundtrack? The McCarricks. Hmmmmmm...
Good kick-off!
And, Kristin herself in fine form performing the new record, as well as some old faves with new pinned back blonde curls and a husky scream that was thisclose to punkrock. Unfortunately, the show spoiled me for seeing an acoustic set anytime in the near future...the highlight of the show being a full band rendition of 'your dirty answer', if I were Billy, I woulda been slightly scared...
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Programmable Soda
Rainy, warm day of April...M, so happy to see you and have coffee and play you new Tori tracks and admire your cute outfit.
Off to see Kristin Hersh with strings and looking forward.
Off to see Kristin Hersh with strings and looking forward.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Even Cowgirls Get the Blues
The joys of being back in New York...
Walking to the Farmer's Market with a double stroller, eighty pounds worth of sleeping boys; feeling the chilly April air and mist against my skin; wondering if the tulip trees will make it through the way too late in the season Nor'Easter; meeting friends at a moment's notice; catching up on thousands of pages of New Yorker articles; groaning over the events I missed while browsing said New Yorker pages; trekking out to BAM for Matthew Bourne; watching Jack run down the soccor field and back and forth and back and forth...
So glad to be home - so glad, in fact, that I haven't had a thing to write. Well, I have had a thing - but, I'm verbalizing everything to anyone who'll listen mostly because for a full month I was in self-imposed holding it all in mode!
No more trips anytime soon!
I've taken a vow - as I was innocently asked last night upon saying 'goodbye' to J, "But you're not going off to any distant lands this time, right?"
No distant lands.
Walking to the Farmer's Market with a double stroller, eighty pounds worth of sleeping boys; feeling the chilly April air and mist against my skin; wondering if the tulip trees will make it through the way too late in the season Nor'Easter; meeting friends at a moment's notice; catching up on thousands of pages of New Yorker articles; groaning over the events I missed while browsing said New Yorker pages; trekking out to BAM for Matthew Bourne; watching Jack run down the soccor field and back and forth and back and forth...
So glad to be home - so glad, in fact, that I haven't had a thing to write. Well, I have had a thing - but, I'm verbalizing everything to anyone who'll listen mostly because for a full month I was in self-imposed holding it all in mode!
No more trips anytime soon!
I've taken a vow - as I was innocently asked last night upon saying 'goodbye' to J, "But you're not going off to any distant lands this time, right?"
No distant lands.
Monday, April 02, 2007
What more is there to say....
This was designed by the Communist Gaudi. A female who thrived under Stalin and was a key political opponent to democratization in Vietnam. No joke.
HOME!
OK...I admit, somewhere along the line I dropped the ball with the posts. Perhaps it was in Hanoi, snatched by the Vietnamese Annie Hall in a terrifically awful jazz club hidden behind some junk shops and an erstwhile Italian pizzeria (?). Exactly.
Flew back to New York only to promptly get into a taxi accident on the onramp to the Van Wyck Expressway - a bang-up welcome home that left me tired, luggage laden and bewildered highway-side. But.
All worth it, for this moment of sitting at my very own desk getting ready to go to my very own yoga class in my very own April-sunny-chilly city.
Thanks to all of you who saw me through, wrote me notes and otherwise bolstered the confidence of this far-flung girl.
Flew back to New York only to promptly get into a taxi accident on the onramp to the Van Wyck Expressway - a bang-up welcome home that left me tired, luggage laden and bewildered highway-side. But.
All worth it, for this moment of sitting at my very own desk getting ready to go to my very own yoga class in my very own April-sunny-chilly city.
Thanks to all of you who saw me through, wrote me notes and otherwise bolstered the confidence of this far-flung girl.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Avocado Juice
Have I mentioned to enough people yet that I'm addicted?
I see a cart on the street. Some green, rough skinned fruit. Blender. Questionable looking ice.
A beeline, I tell you. I've found that the grosser looking the set-up, the better the juice. My plan is to set up shop somewhere amidst the construction in the Bowery - I figure that should make me tops...
Anyhow. Na Trang was worth all it took to get there - super town, could live there really. Dream of a beach town, full of Aussie ex-pats who kept saying things like "I had a pash on the beach". I love "a pash" better than "a snog" by damn far. Also, love those rough and tumble friendly types who are just so willing to bring any old person in and make her feel as though she's amongst friends. Met a trio of Queensland travellers and a few of their local friends - diving. Good for that at least, the underwater - dynamite fishing has pretty much destroyed the reef, though it seems to be starting the long process of regrowth. Saw some gorgeous blue starfish, cuttlefish and a few genuinely new looking forests of coral. Great colors. Those were moments. The rest was a bit...you know. When a dive is boring. You listen to yourself breath alot...
So, the Aussies were there and they pretty much swooped me up and took me out for a totally singular night on the town, which felt GREAT after missing friends all these days.
Hard to leave those sandy alleys...probably would have stayed on, if I had even half an inkling of not getting myself back to NYC and fast!
Hanoi, now. Quick.
I see a cart on the street. Some green, rough skinned fruit. Blender. Questionable looking ice.
A beeline, I tell you. I've found that the grosser looking the set-up, the better the juice. My plan is to set up shop somewhere amidst the construction in the Bowery - I figure that should make me tops...
Anyhow. Na Trang was worth all it took to get there - super town, could live there really. Dream of a beach town, full of Aussie ex-pats who kept saying things like "I had a pash on the beach". I love "a pash" better than "a snog" by damn far. Also, love those rough and tumble friendly types who are just so willing to bring any old person in and make her feel as though she's amongst friends. Met a trio of Queensland travellers and a few of their local friends - diving. Good for that at least, the underwater - dynamite fishing has pretty much destroyed the reef, though it seems to be starting the long process of regrowth. Saw some gorgeous blue starfish, cuttlefish and a few genuinely new looking forests of coral. Great colors. Those were moments. The rest was a bit...you know. When a dive is boring. You listen to yourself breath alot...
So, the Aussies were there and they pretty much swooped me up and took me out for a totally singular night on the town, which felt GREAT after missing friends all these days.
Hard to leave those sandy alleys...probably would have stayed on, if I had even half an inkling of not getting myself back to NYC and fast!
Hanoi, now. Quick.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Twenty-five bucks and a cracker, do you think that's enough...
Name that tune!
PW, no fair! You know all the tunes.
OK. This might be a bit longer than usual as I've got lots and lots to catch you up on, as I've been on the back of a motorcycle for the past three days descending from Dalat to Nha Trang. Cool mountains to sunny beach (and, I'd better get my rather sore bum over to the dive shop soon enough if I plan on descending further tomorrow!)
What to say about this much touted EASY RIDER trip - it was a mixed bag - just beatiful in some ways and in some ways was very weird as I was subtly (yet RELENTLESSLY) sexually harassed by my driver. Which is not something that feels great when you're in the middle of nowhere and the guy is your only link to the wide world. And your passport is strapped to his bike. And you have no clear idea where you are, where the next stop is or what you would do if something truly upsetting happened.
Which is, in itself, truly upsetting. But...
All in all, it turned out to be nothing too bad or unhandleable - just a constant guard up fending off kind of thing -- and, if that's the worst that a trip on my own to SE Asia can dish out -- well. Then. Hey!
The upshot though is this - if you do this, be VERY picky about the rider you take. They might seem innocent at first, but if I had to do it again, I would think thrice.
That out of the way, there was so much to see - the great, beautiful center of this country. Rolling hills and jungle; crashing smoky waterfalls. Definitely a trip to do with someone you like! We stopped just about everywhere, to see how everything was made, grown and processed - mostly in small private homes that welcomed me in and allowed me to poke around. A mushroom grower; silkworm grower; coffee plantation; rice paper noodle maker (yum. yum. yum.); pepper dryers; brick makers; cement bonsai dish casters. Endless places, endless faces. Tribal villages, set against the rice fields at sunset. Roaming elephants. Waterfall hotels with cicadas so loud they burned my brain. Oh, and.
OVERRUN with cicadas - after dinner I unlocked my door to a veritable plague! A plague I tell you! I could barely get the bug net down - as it was i trapped about ten inside and had to flipflop them to death before climbing in! HAHAH! Later in the night, they had infiltrated. Had to pull in the flips again...smacked and smacked and smacked until the buzzing dimmed...
I sit here now, sunburned feet - trying to make the impressions fit into a quick couple of words. All bad aside, this was a great thing to do.
PW, no fair! You know all the tunes.
OK. This might be a bit longer than usual as I've got lots and lots to catch you up on, as I've been on the back of a motorcycle for the past three days descending from Dalat to Nha Trang. Cool mountains to sunny beach (and, I'd better get my rather sore bum over to the dive shop soon enough if I plan on descending further tomorrow!)
What to say about this much touted EASY RIDER trip - it was a mixed bag - just beatiful in some ways and in some ways was very weird as I was subtly (yet RELENTLESSLY) sexually harassed by my driver. Which is not something that feels great when you're in the middle of nowhere and the guy is your only link to the wide world. And your passport is strapped to his bike. And you have no clear idea where you are, where the next stop is or what you would do if something truly upsetting happened.
Which is, in itself, truly upsetting. But...
All in all, it turned out to be nothing too bad or unhandleable - just a constant guard up fending off kind of thing -- and, if that's the worst that a trip on my own to SE Asia can dish out -- well. Then. Hey!
The upshot though is this - if you do this, be VERY picky about the rider you take. They might seem innocent at first, but if I had to do it again, I would think thrice.
That out of the way, there was so much to see - the great, beautiful center of this country. Rolling hills and jungle; crashing smoky waterfalls. Definitely a trip to do with someone you like! We stopped just about everywhere, to see how everything was made, grown and processed - mostly in small private homes that welcomed me in and allowed me to poke around. A mushroom grower; silkworm grower; coffee plantation; rice paper noodle maker (yum. yum. yum.); pepper dryers; brick makers; cement bonsai dish casters. Endless places, endless faces. Tribal villages, set against the rice fields at sunset. Roaming elephants. Waterfall hotels with cicadas so loud they burned my brain. Oh, and.
OVERRUN with cicadas - after dinner I unlocked my door to a veritable plague! A plague I tell you! I could barely get the bug net down - as it was i trapped about ten inside and had to flipflop them to death before climbing in! HAHAH! Later in the night, they had infiltrated. Had to pull in the flips again...smacked and smacked and smacked until the buzzing dimmed...
I sit here now, sunburned feet - trying to make the impressions fit into a quick couple of words. All bad aside, this was a great thing to do.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Away from cities: two books and two bus rides later
Wow.
The last few days feel as though they've flown by, having left Pnomh Penh for Saigon; arrived in that new, big, bustling city of scooters; and, now, found my way up into the chilly central highlands. Dalat, to be specific!
First Saigon - crazy, somewhat endearing and far too full of people! I spent most of my time just trying to navigate District 1, the so-called center of a town as sprawling as anything LA has to offer. Sightseeing of a sort at the Cu Chi Tunnels - it felt wrong somehow. Wrong to be tramping over ground where so many met such violent ends. Tunnels themselves were a claustrophobic testament to a country's absolute RESOLVE. To think of living down in those deep holes, crawling around and plotting war...well, one realizes why we couldn't possibly have fared differently here. Why we can't possibly fare differently in Iraq today. Ah, correlations. Geography changes, lessons seem not to apply.
Enough politics. Though on a last note, I saw a chilling exhibition of war photographers and their works; that is to say, war photographers who were killed while on assignment, following their story - in Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia. Gorgeous looking young men, with keen eyes and messy hair. Men that were born in places like Vermont and died on Route 1 Pnomh Penh in April of '74.
Thankfully left this behind with seven hours on a bus and am now sitting in the cool air of DaLat. Tomorrow I set out for my big three day motorcycle trip into the countryside - should end up somewhere near the coast...
Hm.
Think no computers for awhile...so.
Oh, and by the way, the books were the devastating I MARRIED A COMMUNIST and the truly lovely little Nicole Krauss book THE HISTORY OF LOVE.
The last few days feel as though they've flown by, having left Pnomh Penh for Saigon; arrived in that new, big, bustling city of scooters; and, now, found my way up into the chilly central highlands. Dalat, to be specific!
First Saigon - crazy, somewhat endearing and far too full of people! I spent most of my time just trying to navigate District 1, the so-called center of a town as sprawling as anything LA has to offer. Sightseeing of a sort at the Cu Chi Tunnels - it felt wrong somehow. Wrong to be tramping over ground where so many met such violent ends. Tunnels themselves were a claustrophobic testament to a country's absolute RESOLVE. To think of living down in those deep holes, crawling around and plotting war...well, one realizes why we couldn't possibly have fared differently here. Why we can't possibly fare differently in Iraq today. Ah, correlations. Geography changes, lessons seem not to apply.
Enough politics. Though on a last note, I saw a chilling exhibition of war photographers and their works; that is to say, war photographers who were killed while on assignment, following their story - in Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia. Gorgeous looking young men, with keen eyes and messy hair. Men that were born in places like Vermont and died on Route 1 Pnomh Penh in April of '74.
Thankfully left this behind with seven hours on a bus and am now sitting in the cool air of DaLat. Tomorrow I set out for my big three day motorcycle trip into the countryside - should end up somewhere near the coast...
Hm.
Think no computers for awhile...so.
Oh, and by the way, the books were the devastating I MARRIED A COMMUNIST and the truly lovely little Nicole Krauss book THE HISTORY OF LOVE.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Swimming From Cambodia
Well, not exactly.
But, some Spaulding Grey tribute is necessary when one has spent even a moment in this country, no? For me at least. So there you go, naked guy in the rumpled suit.
Leaving Pnomh Penh in an hour, sipping a coffee in this super civilized airport that sparkles with shiny newness. Funny port of entry and exit, bearing little resemblance to the whole. Adjusting to my new group-lessness; always a difficult thing after the whole adjustment to groupness. Funny thing these trips - one goes into them feeling quite alone and striking out. Two weeks later there's that insta-bond familiar to all who spend time with strangers under extenuating circumstances. So...I miss them. Funny. Yesterday was a bit of a travel fog with the bus from Siem Riep (temples, lots of temples - if you go, skip the sunset and hit the non-touristy circuit whenever possible. Soon the place will be a Disneyland of destroyed archeological possibility). Six hours later I am here in the city. Today, it's off again.
Saigon.
Cuchi tunnels and wriggling around like the Vietcong, maybe a stop to see the entombed HCM himself. I'll let ya know...
Missing you all, everyday.
But, some Spaulding Grey tribute is necessary when one has spent even a moment in this country, no? For me at least. So there you go, naked guy in the rumpled suit.
Leaving Pnomh Penh in an hour, sipping a coffee in this super civilized airport that sparkles with shiny newness. Funny port of entry and exit, bearing little resemblance to the whole. Adjusting to my new group-lessness; always a difficult thing after the whole adjustment to groupness. Funny thing these trips - one goes into them feeling quite alone and striking out. Two weeks later there's that insta-bond familiar to all who spend time with strangers under extenuating circumstances. So...I miss them. Funny. Yesterday was a bit of a travel fog with the bus from Siem Riep (temples, lots of temples - if you go, skip the sunset and hit the non-touristy circuit whenever possible. Soon the place will be a Disneyland of destroyed archeological possibility). Six hours later I am here in the city. Today, it's off again.
Saigon.
Cuchi tunnels and wriggling around like the Vietcong, maybe a stop to see the entombed HCM himself. I'll let ya know...
Missing you all, everyday.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Sunset
Let it be known that the least important or interesting thing a person can do in Siem Riep is to see the sunset over Angkor Wat - a mob of awful tourists lurk, dusty, at the top. They pounce on any sign of orange in the sky and move en masse, damp from a day's climbing and dodging stone outcroppings. SKIP. Major SKIP.
But, do see all else soon. The future is bleak, considering that the few people who have been here before call the place an 'archealogical disaster' - the number of visitors has expanded exponentially. Still, now, in the off season it is a revelation and a beauty to behold. Breathtaking I would even say.
Also.
I've been invited to Burma.
Some people (a-hem, myanmar!) 's worst fear come true. Relax though. It's for next year! Oh, yes. Another worst fear come true..the pre-pre-pre far trip planning! But, oh yea, will I go.
But, do see all else soon. The future is bleak, considering that the few people who have been here before call the place an 'archealogical disaster' - the number of visitors has expanded exponentially. Still, now, in the off season it is a revelation and a beauty to behold. Breathtaking I would even say.
Also.
I've been invited to Burma.
Some people (a-hem, myanmar!) 's worst fear come true. Relax though. It's for next year! Oh, yes. Another worst fear come true..the pre-pre-pre far trip planning! But, oh yea, will I go.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Pnomh Penh
I don't believe that I've said enough about the city of Pnomh Penh, what it feels like to be in this place. A strange one. Like a city waking up after a long sleep and shaking its limbs - lively on all fronts. Our hotel is nestled into a district about a mile and a half from the more touristy riverfront area (a nice walk, down wide boulevards and through some central gardens/open areas past the palace). There are tuktuks outside, same guys everyday. They know us by now, the end of the build. They wait, in the morning, for Jack our group leader to take his daily 6 a.m. ride to the bakery for fresh croissants. I see them as I leave for my run - they say hello, wave me on, tell me what to expect in terms of bread as I reenter. Altogether pleasant.
The traffic is abyssmal. Like any SE Asian city, the streets are clogged with all manner of transport - motorbikes, SUVs, bicycles. The trick to crossing is to take a deep breath and move forward without giving anything a second thought. It's all about the physics of movement and adjusting pace ever so slightly as necessary. in our bus, at times, we are stuck for an hour just trying to get home. The AC makes in fairly easy to bear, as does the view out the window.
At night, WEsterners SWARM and I mean SWARM the riverfront, the restaurants, the streets. There are so many of us! What's everyone doing! Loads of good places to eat, more to drink. Think lots of people here come for a permenant drunk, or at least the semblance of one. Best place for happy hour is the FCC, looking out on the river and feeling the breeze. Lots of other nice-ys too though for anyone willing to branch out and find some of the 'good'ice (which is the circle, not the square) LOL.
There is little by way of begging, or even curious stares. Everyone seems to enjoy growing prosperity, or at least hope - but, with a past like this...sunny sides are easily found.
I'll miss it here, as we move off and onward. The build ended this morning. WE go en masse the fifteen of us to Angkor Wat - then, it is me, on my own for ten days. Don't have solid plans, bookings, etc. I'll email when I can, and try to post - though honestly, after working on this last screenplay for three months, writing for fun feels...............not so easy!
Love ot everyone and thanks for all of your notes and emails.
The traffic is abyssmal. Like any SE Asian city, the streets are clogged with all manner of transport - motorbikes, SUVs, bicycles. The trick to crossing is to take a deep breath and move forward without giving anything a second thought. It's all about the physics of movement and adjusting pace ever so slightly as necessary. in our bus, at times, we are stuck for an hour just trying to get home. The AC makes in fairly easy to bear, as does the view out the window.
At night, WEsterners SWARM and I mean SWARM the riverfront, the restaurants, the streets. There are so many of us! What's everyone doing! Loads of good places to eat, more to drink. Think lots of people here come for a permenant drunk, or at least the semblance of one. Best place for happy hour is the FCC, looking out on the river and feeling the breeze. Lots of other nice-ys too though for anyone willing to branch out and find some of the 'good'ice (which is the circle, not the square) LOL.
There is little by way of begging, or even curious stares. Everyone seems to enjoy growing prosperity, or at least hope - but, with a past like this...sunny sides are easily found.
I'll miss it here, as we move off and onward. The build ended this morning. WE go en masse the fifteen of us to Angkor Wat - then, it is me, on my own for ten days. Don't have solid plans, bookings, etc. I'll email when I can, and try to post - though honestly, after working on this last screenplay for three months, writing for fun feels...............not so easy!
Love ot everyone and thanks for all of your notes and emails.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Tuol Sleng
So, we're keeping a group journal for this trip...and, although no one who knows me will believe this, I HAPPENED, and I repeat happened, to be passed the thing on the day of our journey to The Killing Fields and Tuol Sleng (S-21, the detention/torture facility within Pnomh Penh).
There's not so much to say actually - again, the horror of the situation defies not only words, but emotion. When such egregious crimes have been committed - how can someone have a proper reaction? What is the proper reaction when confronted with utter and compete horror...the Khmer Rouge (like the Soviets) were all for the niceties of imprisonment and execution, keeping detailed records on the most minute details - before and after photos of victims. These are displayed at S-21, alongside the original instruments of torture; the tiny cells in which inmates were housed - replete with scratched doors, still oily from so many grasping hands. Every tour guide emphasized, with amazement, the fact that Pol Pot was Cambodian - killing, starving, torturing other Cambodians. Work/Death were the only two ingredients acceptable for a life under Ankar.
There is a great Philip Short biography of Pol Pot that came out last year, should anyone be interested in a factual historical look at the relevant forces that not only brought his regime to power, but that shaped him as a young student in Paris.
For a more fraught and frankly emotional account, look for First they Killed My Father' - a first person account of the atrocities.
There's not so much to say actually - again, the horror of the situation defies not only words, but emotion. When such egregious crimes have been committed - how can someone have a proper reaction? What is the proper reaction when confronted with utter and compete horror...the Khmer Rouge (like the Soviets) were all for the niceties of imprisonment and execution, keeping detailed records on the most minute details - before and after photos of victims. These are displayed at S-21, alongside the original instruments of torture; the tiny cells in which inmates were housed - replete with scratched doors, still oily from so many grasping hands. Every tour guide emphasized, with amazement, the fact that Pol Pot was Cambodian - killing, starving, torturing other Cambodians. Work/Death were the only two ingredients acceptable for a life under Ankar.
There is a great Philip Short biography of Pol Pot that came out last year, should anyone be interested in a factual historical look at the relevant forces that not only brought his regime to power, but that shaped him as a young student in Paris.
For a more fraught and frankly emotional account, look for First they Killed My Father' - a first person account of the atrocities.
Friday, March 09, 2007
Mango Coconut Rice
Much needed day off yesterday...well,not day off exactly. More like a day repurposed. Still full of stuff that required bus, entire group, etc. Visited an orphanage in the morning - I must say, it wasn't tougher than the garbage dump we visited afterwards. A fledgling Manila or Lagos with children running after the trucks, climbing aboard and sliding down in the sludge in pursuit of a plastic bag. Sobering and beyond real comprehension...how can an outsider even begin to experience empathy or pity when there is so very little to do on a practical basis. That's what I ask myself and throw up my hands and try to work harder on the house we're building. Those kids at least will not be barefoot on reconstituted refuse...that's the hope at least.
In stark contrast, the evening was filled with a cultural program welcoming our group. Traditional Khmer dancing, cooking lessons and other flotsom...how can a person truly cry in the morning and then eat mango coconut rice in the evening. Wally Shawn...calling Wally Shawn.
Read THE FEVER. You'll get my point.
Realizing I'd better make some better plans for the second half of my journey - time's a ticking and I'm just learning the river is too low to take a boat to Battambang. Reconfiguration to occur this evening - but, think I'll just shift and head to the dive boat a day or two early.
I'm spoiled with email here - it could end at any time, but for now is a joy. As are my runs along the Mekong. Perfect songs today...got into that groove...
In stark contrast, the evening was filled with a cultural program welcoming our group. Traditional Khmer dancing, cooking lessons and other flotsom...how can a person truly cry in the morning and then eat mango coconut rice in the evening. Wally Shawn...calling Wally Shawn.
Read THE FEVER. You'll get my point.
Realizing I'd better make some better plans for the second half of my journey - time's a ticking and I'm just learning the river is too low to take a boat to Battambang. Reconfiguration to occur this evening - but, think I'll just shift and head to the dive boat a day or two early.
I'm spoiled with email here - it could end at any time, but for now is a joy. As are my runs along the Mekong. Perfect songs today...got into that groove...
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Day 3 or how life is more about bricks in Cambodia than Shashamene!
Here's one for you Ethiopia types out there who might be reading...or, for those of you who are asking "How is this work different than what you did in Ethiopia?"
Well.
First of all, this is no Habitat "village", as it was in Shashamene (with seventy some houses of same design on a deeded plot of land). These houses are built on a case by case basis for qualifying families who already HAVE land. We have two going, each of different design but consisting of similar materials. BRICK. And plenty of it! I'm becoming quite the mason, until things get over my head. Then, the rows get wobbly and someone must come behind with tapping trowel in order that I don't collapse the thing on my head.
There's a similar amount of super-heavy lifting. Heavier, it seems, since we do it BASKET by BASKET, not on a clever barilla. I never thought I'd be longing for one of those...huh...but, long I do. Çause the baskets are rough as hell on the back and not at all effective when trying to move a massive pile of clay dirt or gravel or stones all the way over to the other side of the lot. Well, they are better than hands.
Anyway, yes. The work is different. And, it's still just as enjoyable to be outside watching a house go up - no matter the materials used to construct. There are less kids here than in Ethiopia (about seven as opposed to what seemed like scores). The homeowners are not as helpful, they are in fact a bit critical if things aren't quite perfect!
I'm so sleepy every night I can barely stand to check my emails - but, I am checking.
Last night had the lovliest happy hour at The Foreign Correspondent's Club (as in the one in The Killing Fields) - everything it is cracked up to be, for sure. Though not many correspondent's left (might change with the anticipated Khmer Rouge trial???). Anyway, tropical and great with a view of the Mekong and Tuel Sleng - wooden beamed ceilings and slow whizzing fans...afterwards, at dinner, I was a great champion of ordering...
deep fried tarantulas.
I screamed as I watched everyone else try a leg.
Well.
First of all, this is no Habitat "village", as it was in Shashamene (with seventy some houses of same design on a deeded plot of land). These houses are built on a case by case basis for qualifying families who already HAVE land. We have two going, each of different design but consisting of similar materials. BRICK. And plenty of it! I'm becoming quite the mason, until things get over my head. Then, the rows get wobbly and someone must come behind with tapping trowel in order that I don't collapse the thing on my head.
There's a similar amount of super-heavy lifting. Heavier, it seems, since we do it BASKET by BASKET, not on a clever barilla. I never thought I'd be longing for one of those...huh...but, long I do. Çause the baskets are rough as hell on the back and not at all effective when trying to move a massive pile of clay dirt or gravel or stones all the way over to the other side of the lot. Well, they are better than hands.
Anyway, yes. The work is different. And, it's still just as enjoyable to be outside watching a house go up - no matter the materials used to construct. There are less kids here than in Ethiopia (about seven as opposed to what seemed like scores). The homeowners are not as helpful, they are in fact a bit critical if things aren't quite perfect!
I'm so sleepy every night I can barely stand to check my emails - but, I am checking.
Last night had the lovliest happy hour at The Foreign Correspondent's Club (as in the one in The Killing Fields) - everything it is cracked up to be, for sure. Though not many correspondent's left (might change with the anticipated Khmer Rouge trial???). Anyway, tropical and great with a view of the Mekong and Tuel Sleng - wooden beamed ceilings and slow whizzing fans...afterwards, at dinner, I was a great champion of ordering...
deep fried tarantulas.
I screamed as I watched everyone else try a leg.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Long flights, arrivals and the city
As i just wrote in an email..this place is Westernized, man! Loads of products available like Listerine and Kettle Chips, Evian water and Neutrogena soap. Compared to Ethiopia it is like being in New York City opposed to Chippewa Falls (huh?) The flight was too long and I zoned out on bad movies and long hours of slow reading the mega-issue of Vanity Fair. Blha. And, Blah. But, spent a few hours this morning walking wide boulevards and gazing at moldy colonial architecture...nearly dry Mekong river...Silver pagoda. Glad I"m here. Tomorrow begins work proper...HOT work proper. It is nearly ninety degrees and we are building in the flattest, driest plot of land I've ever seen. Pouring cement and laying masonry...practical skills.
Do a habitat trip. You won't regreat it, I think
Do a habitat trip. You won't regreat it, I think
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Cambodia
Friday at noon...that's the day I take off for Pnomh Penh. A worrisome hour long layover in Bangkok (will my luggage make it from plane to plane in such a short amount of time?) What does a girl do with twenty hours to herself in COACH? No fair making unusable suggestions...any book recommendations, however, would be appreciated.
In the middle of planning my post-Habitat itinerary - rough idea of spending extra time in Ankor Wat and then moving down to the coast for some live-aboard scuba diving. Live-aboard being the only feasible way to get thyself out of the blast sites/fishing beds where life consists of some ashy apocolypse covering what used to be living reef. Then, onto Hanoi, where I will look for that art gallery covered so specifically and oddly by the NY Times last week. Mai. OK. And, hopefully, will hit China Beach - not solely due to my love of the TV show. Mostly 'cause of the surfers! And, yes for those of you who are wondering, I will climb aboard a board with my limited skills and be buffeted by that surf. So, expect me back with bruisers. Hopefully, no bites.
I will try to post regularly, rather than sending mass emails..so, bookmark me for God's Sake!!!!!
In the middle of planning my post-Habitat itinerary - rough idea of spending extra time in Ankor Wat and then moving down to the coast for some live-aboard scuba diving. Live-aboard being the only feasible way to get thyself out of the blast sites/fishing beds where life consists of some ashy apocolypse covering what used to be living reef. Then, onto Hanoi, where I will look for that art gallery covered so specifically and oddly by the NY Times last week. Mai. OK. And, hopefully, will hit China Beach - not solely due to my love of the TV show. Mostly 'cause of the surfers! And, yes for those of you who are wondering, I will climb aboard a board with my limited skills and be buffeted by that surf. So, expect me back with bruisers. Hopefully, no bites.
I will try to post regularly, rather than sending mass emails..so, bookmark me for God's Sake!!!!!
Friday, January 12, 2007
Learn To Sing Like a Star
New Year's Resolution to try and be a better blogger, especially now that things are all linked up in google for the ultimate in user friendly interfacing.
Just giving a listen to the new Kristin Hersh record (see above title) - talk about user friendly interfacing! The ultimate in her special brand of eye-spinning tranciness, especially 'Poor Wayfaring Stranger' which has never sounded quite so...ummm...unpoor.
Just giving a listen to the new Kristin Hersh record (see above title) - talk about user friendly interfacing! The ultimate in her special brand of eye-spinning tranciness, especially 'Poor Wayfaring Stranger' which has never sounded quite so...ummm...unpoor.
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