By Geo Ong

A short (in relation) excerpt from the 1344-page Imperial by William T. Vollmann, a work of nonfiction about the continuum between Mexico and America – more specifically, illegal immigration in Imperial County, a border region in Southeastern California. The excerpt, though cryptic out of context, displays some of the most well-written material I’ve seen in a while.

The fact that the perimeter of Imperial County resembles a distracted child’s attempt to draw a square scarcely distinguishes it, since many other counties in America, especially in the Midwest and Great Plains states, were likewise enacted as defectively wearisome rectangles. Still, we need to start somewhere. It may well be that since this southeast corner of California is so peculiar, enigmatic, sad, beautiful and perfect as it stands, delineation of any sort should be forgone in favor of the recording of ‘pure’ perceptions, for instance by means of a camera alone; or, failing that, by reliance upon word-pictures: a cityscape of withered palms, white tiles, glaring parking lots, and portico-shaded loungers who watch the boxcars groan by; a cropscape of a rich green basil field, whose fragrance rises up as massively resonant as an organ-chord. But I have seen so many old photographs in attics and archives, uncaptioned images of nameless California beauty queens, of lost canals and of obscure professional men in high white collars, all of them pinkening into specters even as the blank desert skies which frame them develop spots of ‘weather’ (brown fixer stains), and maye one of those professional men, whose hair was carefully sidecombed and whose moustachios tamed in order for him to best resemble the man he wanted to be by the time that photographer emergerd from under the focusing cloth, withdrew the dark slide from the film and threw open the shutter on that long ago day before Imperial was a county and the Salton Sea was even born, maybe he, our professional man, deserves to be thanked or cursed for something important; maybe that pretty high school girl in the bathing suit who stands gripping a ship’s wheel in her white, white fingers as she stands by the Salton Sea would mean more to me if I knew the extent to which her grandchildren mourned at her funeral and whether she ever once swam there, whether in her time it stank half as much as it does in mine with half-mummified birds and fishes crunching underfoot, which latter point would interest me extremely because some folks have told me that the Salton Sea is poisonous while others insist that there’s nothing wrong except an extra pinch of salt perhaps. And what should we do about the Salton Sea, which is to say what should we think, and on what basis, not to mention how should we live? Without a past, no matter how controvertible, the present cannot be anything other than a tumble through darkness towards the darkness which neither past nor present can illuminate. Because I’d rather fall through patches of illuminated air, no documentary caption can possibly contain over many facts to please me. Let the reader beware. At least the following attempts at delineation may entertain you by proving how badly I draw squares.

Congratulations! Your reward is an approving nod from each of us. Care to weigh in on what he means? That comment box is there for a reason. *wink *nod *wink *nod *dizzy spell

ในปี 1995 ผมกับนามิเบียซิมบับเวเยือนของทีมชาติน้ำจืด Angling. สามีของฉันได้รับเลือกให้เป็นตัวแทนประเทศของเขาในการแข่งขันกับนามิเบียและ South Africa. แม้ว่าประเทศได้รับอิสระสำหรับห้าปีก็จะได้รับเพียงประเทศหนึ่งปีเสร็จสมบูรณ์เมื่อพื้นที่พอร์ตใต้ของ Walvis Bay ได้คนกลับประเทศโดย South Africa.

เรา flew ในเมืองหลวงวินด์ฮุกจากฮาราเร, เชื่อมโยงไปถึงหลังจากที่เที่ยวบินสองชั่วโมง. ของเราแปลกใจแรกลักษณะของวินด์ฮุก. จะพัฒนาดีเมืองสมัยใหม่และการขับรถเข้าเมืองจากสนามบินเรารู้สึกว่าเราบนถนน South Africa ของ. เมืองเงินทุนจำนวนมากในทวีปแอฟริกาจะสกปรกและคงไม่ดีกับถนนที่เต็ม potholes ที่ไม่ทำงานไฟจราจรและขาดรวมสัญญาณถนน – ไม่พูดถึงขับสาหัส, beggars หมดหวังและเด็กถนน. จนไปฉันไป Nambia แอฟริกาใต้เป็นประเทศเดียวที่มีความสะอาดและรักษาดีเมืองเป็นระเบียบและเมือง. นี้เป็นมรดกจากประเทศนามิเบียว่าที่แรกที่ถูกครอบครองนามิเบียในระหว่างสงครามโลกครั้งที่ I. บทเรียนประวัติย่อมีความเกี่ยวข้องที่จุดนี้.

ต่อปลายศตวรรษที่ 19 ตกเป็นเมืองขึ้นของเยอรมันนามิเบียทำให้ประเทศชื่อทึบแทนการ South West Africa. ทางใต้ของประเทศใกล้กับชายแดนของแอฟริกาใต้เป็นพอร์ตยุทธศาสตร์ของ Walvis Bay แล้วภายใต้การควบคุม British. ณสิ้นสงคราม South Africa บริหารประเทศตามกฎหมายจนกว่าจะสิ้นสุดของสงครามโลกครั้งเมื่อมันโดยมีด้านเดียว annexed พื้นที่ – ไม่ยอมรับต่างชาติ. ใน 1,966 สงครามกองโจรล่มจมหินออกจนสิ้นสุดในปี 1988 เมื่อแอฟริกาใต้ตกลงที่จะยกเลิกการควบคุมของประเทศ. สงครามไม่หยุดแอฟริกันใต้จากการติดตั้งโครงสร้างพื้นฐานที่ดีในนามิเบียซึ่งมีประโยชน์ประเทศมากและยังคงมีประสิทธิภาพมากในขณะที่เขียน.

คณะประมง Namibian ได้เสนอให้รองรับ counterparts ชาวประเทศซิมบับเวของพวกเขาดังนั้นหลังจากวางปิดกระเป๋าของเราที่บ้านต่างๆที่เรา climbed เป็นรถมินิบัสและไปกับทัวร์ของวินด์ฮุก. ชื่อเป็นภาษาแอฟริกาหนึ่งหมายถึง "มุมลมแรง" และก็แน่นอนอยู่ถึงชื่อวันที่. ถนนถูกรักษาเป็นอย่างดีและสะอาดและสถาปัตยกรรมได้ประทับใจ. มีบางอาคารที่ทันสมัยมากเป็น, ครอบครองโดยธุรกิจแอฟริกาใต้หลายธนาคาร. เดินไปรอบๆร้านเต็มสตรีในเราน้อยบุคคลที่มีความยินดี – ชั้นวางซ้อนกันได้กับผลิตภัณฑ์แอฟริกาใต้ปรับ. ก็สนับสนุนให้เห็นว่าทั้งสองประเทศได้คงชัดเชื่อมโยงธุรกิจของพวกเขาเพราะจึงมักจะได้ยินหนึ่งของประเทศแอฟริกาเป็นอาณานิคมร้างโดยก่อนหน้านี้หรือ rulers บริหารหลังจากอิสระ.

อิทธิพลเยอรมันได้รับการรักษาและจำนวนอาคารและโบสถ์สะท้อน perios ของอาณานิคมเยอรมัน. มีสามรอบปราสาทวินด์ฮุกซึ่งมีชื่อเสียงที่สุดของที่เรียกว่า Alte Feste. แปลนี้เป็น "Old ป้อม" และปราสาทนี้ housed กองทัพเยอรมันครอบครองเมื่อแรกเริ่มอาคารวินด์ฮุกกลับ 1,890.

เมื่อฉันถูกเติบโตในซิมบับเวเราได้ยินมากเกี่ยวกับ Namibian สงครามประกาศอิสรภาพและความจริงที่ Namibians ดำเป็นศึกกองทัพแอฟริกาใต้ขาวนั้นอาจเข้าใจจริงของฉันแรกของความขัดแย้งเกี่ยวกับเชื้อชาติ. ประเทศที่มีชื่อเสียงเป็นที่เพาะปลูกของการแพ้ยาเชื้อชาติและเราเชื่อว่าคนขาวก็มีที่อันตรายของพวกเขา. ไปของเรานามิเบียพิสูจน์ว่าไม่ถูกต้องเพียงมุมมองที่เป็น. วัฒนธรรมทั้งหมดผสมอิสระและลำบากมากให้อภัยกัน – ในความเป็นจริงเป็นผู้ที่เราสงสัยว่าในแผ่นดินที่พวกเขาต้องการที่เคยมีสงครามเกี่ยวกับ. Namibians ขาวเจอกันไม่เคยพิจารณาตัวเองแอฟริกาใต้และไม่มีผู้ใดของพวกเขาได้ต่อสู้ในสงคราม. โธ่ misconceptions ของเยาวชนและพลังของสื่อ!

เราขับไล่ลงกลางถนนในวินด์ฮุก, ชื่อแดกดัน Robert Mugabeทาง. Namibians ยืนยันนี้ขอขอบคุณชาวประเทศซิมบับเวประธานการสนับสนุนของเขาในระหว่างสงครามของประเทศอิสระ. ก่อนประธานนามิเบีย, Sam Nujoma, ยังเป็นเพื่อนบุคคลใกล้ชิดของ Mugabe's. เราฝูงอดีตบ้านประธานาธิบดีเป็นอาณานิคมปรับอาคารสไตล์สมบูรณ์ล้อมรอบด้วยรั้ว – คมชัดรวม Mugabe กลัวผู้คนของเขาเป็นเพื่อที่ดีเขาชีวิตหลังกำแพงสูงสิบฟุตและปิดถนนนอกบ้านของเขาทั้งหมดการจราจรในเวลากลางคืนระหว่างเวลา 6 น. และ 6.

ในช่วงเย็นเรามี braaivleis (คำแอฟริกาใต้สำหรับปิ้งบาร์บีคิว) ที่บ้านของผู้จัดการทีมของ Namibian. เช้านี้หลังจากอาหารเช้าใจเราฝูงเป็นเมืองชายฝั่งทะเล Swakopmund, เมืองใหญ่อันดับสองในนามิเบีย. ถนนที่เราเดินทางเอาเราผ่าน Namib ทะเลทรายและมันเป็นไดรฟ์อันงดงาม. ก็ถือเป็นทะเลทรายที่เก่าแก่ที่สุดในโลกอายุประมาณ 80 ล้านปี. ปริมาณน้ำฝนประจำปีเฉลี่ยเพียง 10 mm (0,25 นิ้ว) และมีจวนพืช no. หาดทรายจะสิ้นสุด; ขยายทองมากมายยืดทิศทางไปทางขอบฟ้า. แตกต่างระหว่างทองและท้องฟ้าสีฟ้าได้งดงาม. หยุดรถบนถนนได้ประสบการณ์เหลือเชื่อ. เราลงเฉพาะชีวิตและรถมินิบัสและถนนที่บ่งชี้เฉพาะของชาติมนุษย์ถูก. อำนาจครอบงำของธรรมชาติถูกเหลือเชื่อและเรารู้สึกเหลือเชื่อขนาดเล็กและสัพเพเหระในทะเลทรายนี้.

เนินทรายใหญ่ที่สุดในโลกอยู่ในทะเลทราย Namib. เรียกว่าเนินจำนวนเจ็ด (ฉันไม่เคยได้สามารถมองเห็นเหตุผลสำหรับชื่อโง่แต่นี้) เป็นเกือบ 390 เมตรในความสูง (ประมาณ 1,256 ฟุต). เราได้ออกจากรถมินิบัสและบางส่วนสำคัญยิ่งในหมู่พวกเรา climbed เนินทรายน้อยแต่ล้มเหลวไปด้านบน. เดินผ่านทรายได้อย่างเหลือเชื่อทำให้อ่อนเพลีย! เนินทรายจำนวนเจ็ดตั้งอยู่ในช่วงของเนินทรายทรายที่อยู่ในพื้นที่ดินเรียก Sossusvlei. Apparently มีโอกาสได้รับน้อยเมื่อปริมาณน้ำฝนในพื้นที่ได้รับเพียงพอที่จะกรอก pans vlei ด้วยน้ำและสายตานี้สร้างเป็นสวยงาม. น้ำมีสีมีสีเขียวขุ่นเนื่องจากดินเป็นดินเพื่อหนาแน่นมีฉี่กรองน้ำ no. Vlei หมายความว่ามีบางพืชแข็งแกร่งมากทั่วเนินทรายเหล่านี้และอีกสองถึงสามถิ่นฐานภาษาท้องถิ่นได้ที่ได้ปรากฏแล้วในพื้นที่. ลักษณะงดงามที่สุดของเนินทรายเหล่านี้เกือบเสร็จสมบูรณ์ขาดการพัฒนาท่องเที่ยวซึ่งหมายถึงพื้นที่ที่เป็นแท้โดยคน. สามารถเดินทางไปเนินทรายกับบุคคลทัวร์แต่มีโรงแรมไม่สะดวกและไม่มีวันหยุดอื่นๆ.

หลังจากการเดินทางอันงดงามห้าชั่วโมงเรามาถึงที่ Swakopmund. ผลกระทบต่อภาพของเมืองที่เป็นน่ากลัว. ดูเหมือนว่าจะปรากฏจากทะเลทรายเหมือนฝันและเมืองเพื่อให้ classically เสน่ห์ว่าน่าจะเป็นชิ้นเล็กๆของยุโรปโอนไปแอฟริกา. นอกจากเมืองเป็นมหาสมุทรแอตแลนติก,เพิ่มให้คนต่างด้าวประสบการณ์ surreal เกือบขับรถเข้า Swakopmund. อิทธิพลภาษาเยอรมันเป็นอย่างชัดแจ้งที่นี่และจะไม่จำกัดเฉพาะสถาปัตยกรรม. ภาษาเยอรมันเป็นภาษาพูดอย่างกว้างขวางใน Swakopmund และร้านอาหารจะเต็ม Bavarian อาหารอร่อยและเบียร์. คนที่บ้านเรียกเมืองนี้เป็นเยี่ยม, ผสม eclectic ของชาวประมง, ผู้ประกอบการ Safari, miners, คนแอฟริกาและ descendents ของถิ่นฐานเยอรมันบรรดาต้น.

เมืองมีมากแถบหนึ่งร้านอาหารและร้านและมีแม้กระทั่งคาสิโน. ในระหว่างปีของการพนันขาว South Africa กฎของชนกลุ่มน้อยถูกห้ามจึงใต้แอฟริกันมักจะฝูงเพื่อ Swakpomund ไปเพลิดเพลินติด "ของ" – Swakopmund อยู่ใกล้ Walvis Bay. นอกเหนือจากเนินทรายทรายใหญ่ Swakopmund ยังมีเนินทรายเกลือมากหลาย. บางถนนพร้อม seafront จะทำเกลือสิ่งที่ฉันพบมากยากที่จะเชื่อเพราะสีเทาที่เข้ม – เกือบเหมือนน้ำมันดิน. สามีของฉัน daredฉันลิ้มรสการเดินทางแต่ฉันไม่สามารถนำตัวเองลอง! ฉันได้เรียนรู้ว่าเมื่อถนนเปียกสามารถทรยศ.

เมืองที่พระอาทิตย์ขึ้นและพระอาทิตย์ตกที่งดงามเนื่องจากดวงอาทิตย์ตั้งหันทรายเนินทรายสีลึกของสีแดง. ไฟในอากาศดูเหมือนจะเรืองแสงสะท้อนออกจากทราย. เพราะของเย็นฉ่ำเย็นมหาสมุทรแอตแลนติก rolls หมอกเหนือเมืองในเช้าและตอนเย็นทำให้มันน่ากลัว, ลักษณะเบาหวิว. วันแรกที่เราใช้มีเราถ่ายเพื่อดูต้นไม้ที่เรียกว่า mirabilis welwitschia. แม้ว่าจะไม่เติบโตสูงกว่าสองเมตรมีระบบรากใต้ดินถึงเมตรถึงสี่. และพวกเขาดูประหนึ่งว่าพวกเขาได้ถูกโยนลงในทะเลทรายเพื่อรักษาตัวเอง – พวกเขากล่าวเท็จอย่างเศร้าโศกในทรายเกือบ recoiling จากแสงแดดรุนแรง. พืชเหล่านี้เท่านั้นที่เคยแบกสองใบเติบโตในทิศทางตรงกันข้าม. หากใบนี้ตายจึงไม่โรงงานทั้งหมด. เราไม่ได้ดูตัวอย่างเก่าแก่ที่สุดซึ่งมากกว่า 2000ปีอายุ. พืชที่เราเห็นได้เพียง 500 ปี – เพียง youngsters เปรียบเทียบ!

เช้าวันถัดไปเราไปตกปลาฉลามพร้อมหนึ่งชายหาด. ที่แปลกใจของชายหาดคือไม่ต้อนรับอย่าง. มีหินมากและหินกว่าทรายและลมเป่าจากแอตแลนติกได้หนาวเย็นฉ่ำ. ฉันรักหอยทะเลแต่มีอะไรนอกจากเศษหินบนชายหาด. แม้ว่าที่ดวงอาทิตย์ได้ส่องแสงและเราต้องการได้อย่างอบอุ่นในช่วงเช้าในเมืองที่เราพบตัวเราตัดค่าใช้จ่ายอย่างรอบคอบวันบนชายหาด. ส่วนหนึ่งของนามิเบียซึ่งเรียกว่า โครงกระดูกโคสต์ และชื่อได้ไม่มีอะไรจะทำอย่างไรกับคำอธิบายของชายหาด. วันนั้นกลับหลายร้อยปีที่ผ่านมาเมื่อ seafarers โปรตุเกสและผู้ค้าเครื่องเทศจากอินเดียตะวันออกของดัตช์บริษัท sailed ทั่ว Cape ไปอินเดีย. เรือหลายคนมาพร้อมความเศร้าโศกชายฝั่งทุจริตของโครงกระดูกโคสต์, ผู้ที่ตกเป็นเหยื่อของเหี้ยมมหาสมุทรแอตแลนติก, ชายฝั่งถูกจุ่มหินและปกติfogs และ mists. ในวันก่อนที่มนุษย์เรือขับเคลื่อนก็เป็นไปได้ที่จะได้ขึ้นฝั่งผ่านคลื่นอย่างต่อเนื่องแต่ไม่สามารถที่จะกลับออกไปสู่ทะเลยกเว้นหนึ่งสำหรับการท่องเที่ยวทางเหนือไม่กี่ร้อยไมล์ในทะเลทรายร้อนแห้งแล้ง,. ชายหลายคนตายในช่วงระยะการเดินทางนี้และ skeletons ของพวกเขาได้พบกระจายอยู่ตามแนวชายฝั่ง. Shipwrecks หลายได้พบดอน, ฝากโดยมีคลื่นแอตแลนติกฉกรรจ์และลมแรงแบบลมแรง. ผู้ชายติดบรอนซ์ฉลาม Kob และรังสี. ปลาทั้งหมดเป็นหนัก, ติดแท็กและปล่อย. Bronzies เป็นธรรมขนาดใหญ่น้ำหนักระหว่าง 80 และ 100 กิโลกรัม (ระหว่าง 175 และ £ 220). ชื่อมาจากสีของพวกเขาและพวกเขาเป็นชนิดที่น่าสนใจ.

เช้าวันถัดไปเรา piled กลับสู่รถมินิบัสและฝูงกลับภายในประเทศเพื่อสถานที่จัดแข่งขันตกปลานานาชาติ, เขื่อน Hardap. เขื่อนคือที่ใหญ่ที่สุดในนามิเบียกับ 865 เมตร (2,838 ฟุตกำแพงเขื่อน) และบริเวณพื้นผิวมากกว่า 25 กิโลเมตร (สิบตารางไมล์) – เมื่อมันเต็ม. ปีที่เราไปมีฝนแล้งอันยิ่งใหญ่ในภาคใต้แอฟริกาและเขื่อนมีเพียง 25 เปอร์เซ็นต์เต็ม. น้ำยังน่ากลัวมากที่สุดถั่วสีเขียว. ฉันไม่สามารถเชื่อว่าคนตกปลาได้ว่ายน้ำและ waterskiing และน้ำแต่ Hardap เขื่อนเป็นรีสอร์ทที่เป็นที่นิยมและไม่มีคนประจักษ์ในใจสีน้ำ.

Hardap เขื่อนตั้งอยู่ในพื้นที่กึ่งทะเลทรายในนามิเบียจึงมีค่อนข้างมากพืชแข็งแกร่งในภูมิภาคได้แก่ succulents และ aloes.ชีวิตนกรอบเขื่อนได้อุดมสมบูรณ์และหลากหลาย. เราอาศัยใน chalets หลายกับการเข้าถึงสิ่งอำนวยความสะดวกของเช่นร้านอาหารและสระว่ายน้ำ (เต็มน้ำสะอาดดี). เรามีในเดือนพฤศจิกายนซึ่งเป็นฤดูร้อนกลาง. อากาศเป็นปกติของพื้นที่ทะเลทรายใดอุณหภูมิเวลาวันถึง 45 องศาเซลเซียส (113 องศาฟาเรนไฮต์) และเนื่องจากเราจนถึงดอนลมเพียงมาตอนกลางคืนเมื่ออุณหภูมิ plummeted ใกล้ศูนย์.

เราใช้สี่วันที่ Hardap เขื่อน. ฉันไม่ใช่เฉพาะสมาชิกประมงของทีมงานเพื่อให้ฉันอยู่ด้วยชีวิตชีวา (และสะอาดมากสระว่ายน้ำ) และไปในไดรฟ์เกมน้อย. แม้ว่าภูมิภาคนี้เป็นกึ่งทะเลทรายมีความหลากหลายของสัตว์ป่ารวมถึง ostriches, zebras, warthog, kudu, สะมั่งอาฟริกาและ oryx. นอกจากนี้ยังมีประชากรขนาดเล็กของแรดดำ. Anglers ใช้ตกปลาวันสำหรับเหน็บและมันก็ยาก. แรกจุดตกปลามาให้พื้นเป็น baited เพื่อดึงดูดเหน็บและเก็บพวกเขาจนกระทั่งชาวประมงได้พร้อม. เราจะเตรียมเหยื่อคืนก่อนใน chalets เรา.

นี้คือการทำงานที่ซับซ้อน – โจ๊กแข็ง (อาหารเหลว) ก็จะเตรียมจากอาหารข้าวโพดและเครื่องปรุงต่างๆแล้วเพิ่ม. สม่ำเสมอมีความสำคัญมากเนื่องจากตอนเช้าไปให้อาหารนั้นอยู่ในบริษัทให้ลูกยากกว่าขอที่ถูกโยนออกจากธนาคารในน้ำ. Angler ต้องระมัดระวังว่าเหยื่อไม่โกรธระหว่างหล่อหรือสลายเมื่อมันตีน้ำ. ทีมงานชาวประเทศซิมบับเวต่อสู้กับเทคนิคที่สมบูรณ์แบบของพวกเขาในระหว่างวันที่ปฏิบัติแต่พวกเขาต้องการปรับปรุงโดยวันที่สองของนานาชาติ. คันเป็นแนวนอนแล้วสมดุลในการสนับสนุนในขณะที่ชาวประมง rushes กลับไปที่ถังเหยื่อของเขาเพื่อเตรียมคันอื่น. ติดเมื่อปลาได้หนักและวางจำหน่ายแล้ว. มันเป็นมากทำให้เหน็ดเหนื่อยวิ่งระหว่างน้ำและธนาคารทุกวันในความร้อน searing.

ตอนเย็นของเราหลังจากที่เราต้องการเตรียมให้อาหารได้ดีสนุก.ทีม Namibian สอนเราเกมที่เรียกว่า Spread Virus. Zimbabweans ได้ค้นพบเพียงแต่เหล้ามีอำนาจเรียก sambuca และเรา intrigued. ไม่ใช่เพียงแค่ความสามารถของเครื่องดื่มนี้จะเป็นสีที่แตกต่างกัน. ฉันคิดว่า (และยังคิดว่า) มันลิ้มรสขยะแขยงจริงๆ. เพื่อหลีกเลี่ยงการดื่มเป็นหนึ่งได้สำเร็จในเกม. ผู้เล่นแต่ละนิ้วชี้จุ่มใน sambuca และเปลวไฟผ่านจากนิ้วหนึ่งที่จะเล่นต่อไปจนกว่าจะมีคนหยุดเปลวไฟหรือไป out. เป็นริบเล่นได้ทำกับเครื่องดื่มวัดปริมาณเล็กน้อยของ sambuca แล้วเกมจะเริ่มต้นอีกครั้ง. มีงานประจำที่เข้มงวดตามหากต้องการหลีกเลี่ยงการดื่ม sambuca ของ. เปียกนิ้วในของเหลวที่ใช้เปลวไฟที่ผ่านไปยังเล่นต่อไปและดับเปลวไฟโดยปิดนิ้วในฝ่ามือหรือวางลงในปาก. หัส Great ได้เกิดจากผู้เล่นที่ได้ทำให้มึนเมาพยายามไฟลุกโชติช่วงเมื่อนิ้วมีอยู่ในปากหรือพยายามดับนิ้วในแก้วเหล้า. ลุกไหม้ปกคลุมบ่อยครั้งตารางที่กลางคืนและเราจริงจัดการผ่านเปลวไฟระหว่างแปดของเรา 17 รอบก่อนที่จะถูกยกเลิกในที่สุด. มันเอาหลายวันเพื่อให้สีเข้มของ sambuca ปิดมือเปื้อนของเรา.

ซิมบับเวไม่ชนะการแข่งขันซึ่งไม่แปลกใจมากพิจารณาไม่มีทีมงานได้ fished เคยสำหรับเหน็บก่อน. เราฝูงกลับไปที่วินด์ฮุก, ดำขำ, ผ่อนคลายและร่าเริง.วันนี้เรา boarded เครื่องบินแอร์นามิเบียและหัวหน้ากลับไปชีวิตของเราในซิมบับเว. หนึ่งใน hostesses อากาศเป็นอย่างน่าสีทองและนางเปล่งปลั่งเอาไปเลี้ยงน้อยของเรา. ครึ่งทางผ่านเที่ยวบินสามีของฉันจึงผ่านบาร์และมีบริการเครื่องดื่มของเธอขณะที่เธอนั่งกับเรา. เธอ finalist ในการประกวดนางสาวงามนามิเบียซึ่งเธอก็ชนะ. เธอก็ยังแสดงประเทศในการประกวดนางสาวงามจักรวาลซึ่งเธอยังได้รับรางวัล!

มีมากกว่าไปนามิเบียกว่าที่เราเห็นในการเดินทาง. ตำนาน Okavango Swamps ในทางเหนือของชายแดนกับ แองโกลา ที่มีชื่อเสียงของโลกสำหรับพืชและสัตว์ของพวกเขา. ปิดโดย Caprivi Strip เป็นฉนวนแคบที่ demarcated โดยเฉพาะอย่างยิ่งเพื่อให้การเข้าถึง colonisers เยอรมันในแม่น้ำซัมเบซิแม่น้ำเป็น. พื้นที่เหล่านี้มีชื่อเสียงในหลากหลายงดงามของสัตว์ป่าแอฟริกาและดึงดูดนักท่องเที่ยวจากทั่วโลก. มีน้อยกว่า 450 ชนิดสัตว์ที่แตกต่างกันเป็น. เมืองพอร์ตของWalvis Bay เต็มข้อมูลประวัติศาสตร์อันยิ่งใหญ่และการอ้างอิงจะทำอย่างไรกับประวัติศาสตร์นอกรีตแต่มัน. ฉันเชื่อว่าประมงเป็นวิเศษมี. อื่นๆตามแนวชายฝั่งของฝูงผนึกอยู่. กับประชากรของ 1,8 ล้านใน 825,000 กิโลเมตรมัน (330,000 ไมล์) พื้นผิว Nambia แน่นอนต้องสะท้อนหนึ่งของโลกอย่างหนาแน่นตัวเลขประชากร.

นามิเบียได้รับการเรียกว่า "พระเจ้าที่ดินทำในอารมณ์", การอ้างอิงที่ไม่ซ้ำกันและมักจะภูมิศาสตร์โหด. มันและแน่นอนภูมิอากาศและภูมิทัศน์จะประทับใจสิ้นเชิงและข่มขู่. แต่วิเศษ, ทัศนคติเป็นมิตรของผู้คนเป็นน่าเป็นภูมิ. ก็รีเฟรชเพื่อดูว่าประเทศ ravaged ครั้งโดยสงครามกลางเมืองหินสามารถสิบห้าปีหลังจากสิ้นสุดของความขัดแย้งที่จะจัดขึ้นเป็นตัวอย่างจ้าของประชาธิปไตยแอฟริกา. เศร้ามีประเทศน้อยมากในทวีปเหลือเชื่อที่ที่สามารถวางอ้างถึงคำนี้. ซึ่งเป็นเหตุผลที่นามิเบียเป็นสถานที่พิเศษมาก.

• 2lb Roasted Barley
• 1/2lb Black Patent Malt
• 1/2lb Chocolate Malt
• 1/4lb Crystal 40L Malt
• 9lb 2-Row
• 6lb Light Malt Extract
• 2oz Centennial Hops (11.5% AA)
• 1oz Cascade Hops (5.6% AA)
• 60z Bushmill’s 10 year
• 4 Beano caplets

This one was a total CF. First attempt in my new kitchen and lots of problems throughout the day lead me to believe that there’s a good chance this one got contaminated.

First of all, that is A LOT of grain. A LOT. You can’t (or shouldn’t) make this with anything short of a 5gal boiling pot and you need 6-8 grain bags (big ones) for all that grain. I had to make it in two pots and change the grain 3 times to get it all in there. So that was big problem #1.

No.

That was big problem #2.

Big problem number one was staying out ’til 4:00 in the morning and getting totally wrecked. Note: Sweating alcohol while you’re trying to remember how to brew when you’re not physically or mentally on the ball leads to a fair amount of sloppiness.

So after I made wort from all that grain, I didn’t have any grain bags left for the hops. So I just put the hops in the pot loose. That works, technically, but it makes it WAY harder to get the beer into the carboy without contaminating it, ’cause you have to get all the hops back out somehow. So I had to pour the beer through a strainer, through a funnel, and into the carboy, reaching into the strainer to pull hops out every once in a while so that it didn’t just clog up. So that gave me several more opportunities to contaminate the beer, on top of making me splash the crap out of it and getting beer EVERYWHERE.

This is a really dark one, too, with a lot of sugars in it. So when I say I spilled it everywhere, I mean it looked like a bottle of thick soy sauce exploded in my kitchen.

Anyway, after lots of potential screw-ups, contamination, etc. I finally got all this black oil into the carboy and it’s fermenting in the back room now. I also threw some Beano caps into the fermenter to see what the effect of that is. Supposedly the enzymes that are in Beano break down complex sugars (starches) into fermentable sugars, reducing the amount of carbs in the beer and making it more alcoholic. Both desirable. We’ll see how that goes.

Actually, not really. Since I don’t know how this was supposed to turn out, and didn’t take an OG reading when I put it into the carboy, I don’t know how I’ll even tell how much alcohol is in there. I’m hoping 8-10%. And I’m hoping that this isn’t contaminated and tastes like it looks. This is some seriously dark beer.

CLEVELAND [WMAT NEWS] – A group of about dozen demonstrators rallied outside Mayor Frank Jackson’s E.38th Street home in Cleveland Saturday, to protest the city’s poor response to the Imperial Avenue murders.

The group, Imperial Women, a activist group which was founded following the murders, is demanding action from City Hall. The organizer  Kathy Wray Coleman is calling for the police chief, law director, chief prosecutor, and the safety director to be fired, saying that some of these murders could have been avoided, if the cops had done a better job at watching the suspected killer, Anthony Sowell, more closely.

The group is also demanding improved law enforcement training on how missing persons are reported and handled.

Buy Cheap Imperial

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An epic study of an emblematic American region by one of our most celebrated writers

It sprawls across a stinking artificial sea, across the deserts, date groves, and labor camps of southeastern California, right across the Mexican border. For generations of migrant workers, from Okies fleeing the Dust Bowl of the 1930s to Mexican laborers today, Imperial County has held the promise of paradise—and the reality of hell. It is a land beautiful and harsh, enticing and deadly, rich in history and heartbreak. Across the border, the desert is the same but there are different secrets. In Imperial, award-winning writer William T. Vollmann takes us deep into the heart of this haunted region, and by extension into the dark soul of American imperialism.

Known for his penetrating meditations on poverty and violence, Vollmann has spent ten years doggedly investigating every facet of this bi-national locus, raiding archives, exploring polluted rivers, guarded factories, and Chinese tunnels, talking with everyone from farmers to border patrolmen in his search for the fading American dream and its Mexican equivalent. The result is a majestic book that addresses current debates on immigration, agribusiness, and corporate exploitation, issues that will define AmericaÂ’s identity in the twenty-first century……..
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 “A ‘must’ not just for California collections, but for any library strong in immigration issues” 2009-11-20
By Midwest Book Review (Oregon, WI USA)
California’s Imperial County covers deserts, date groves, and more – it draws right across the Mexican border and generations of migrant workers have roots and history tied to the county. This weighty study of Imperial County offers an unprecedented survey of not just the county but the social issues involved in illegal immigration and border issues, considering the county’s early history, its challenges, its descent into poverty, and its immigration history and connections with Mexico. Never has another county been given such thorough historical and social analysis, making IMPERIAL a ‘must’ not just for California collections, but for any library strong in immigration issues.

 “A mixed review” 2009-10-12
By las cosas (Ajijic-San Francisco)
I wrote and rewrote my review of this book (in my head) endlessly as I read this book. Often that mental drafting served the purpose of venting, since after about page 300 my partner made it clear she was tired of hearing how annoying I found the book. “Stop reading it or stop telling me about how much you dislike the book.” Fair enough. But I did want to finish the book, and despite my great annoyance I now want to track down a copy of his 7 volume treatise on violence.

I have for years wanted to like Vollmann’s writing. But after a few pages I always give up, and am annoyed at myself (and Vollmann). Imperial is a subject that interests me, so I decided this was the book I would read all the way through. And I did, including the source section. This is the only review I’ve written where I could envision writing a review, in all sincerity, with a 1 or 3 or 5 star rating (though I detest the requirement of assigning a numerical “grade” to a review). So here are a few reviews for this book.

One star – why is this classified as nonfiction?

Think of a student assigned a paper called “describe the various social, economic and natural forces currently faced by Imperial County, California.” My student heads to the library, wanders through the stacks and lodged between Ellis Island and the peopling of America : the official guide and California state register and year book of facts (at least in my library) is a 2.5″ thick bright red book spine with one word “Imperial.” My student opens the book at random to chapter 88, which reads, in its entirety:

I can’t believe in people. Did you ever consider them as machines-machines that make eggs? And in material advantages they are already well supplied.

Why, I would be sick to my stomach if a rode down that valley in California, over those long miles owned by one man. He sold out at a fancy price. Imperial County shows rapid increase. The constant threat of heavy shipments…seemed to be a depressing factor. I am willing to give a good deal of credit to the new methods of retail food stores.

Because of market conditions in 1934, the equivalent of 300,000 crates of lettuce were unharvested in the Imperial Valley. She’s dancing with someone else, the bitch!

“Let’s face it Bill. Investigative reporting is not really your strong suit.” [page 922]

Five star – persons interviewed: 120, bibliography includes an impressive quantity of primary sources, he visited the area for a decade in order to assemble the research. And as every reviewer feels the need to say…it is over 1,100 pages! (I was touched by Brianna Lusk’s unusual candor in saying “despite the local buzz generated from the book’s publication…the Imperial Valley Press was unable to track down a local resident who has finished it.”)

Three star…

He writes very well, is endlessly earnest, and is willing to search almost endlessly (or at least a decade) to uncover more elements (though not necessarily facts…and again, this purports to be a nonfiction book) of what he considers to be Imperial. But this is one of the most snarky books I have ever encountered! In a footnote the author asks if the book would be better if he were more cynical. Frankly I can’t imagine how the book could possibly be more cynical. It is simply that he uses a quirky method to display this cynicism. As the book progresses Imperial does also, mainly through increased irrigation, and then the progress stops and Imperial slides backwards, mainly because of water issues. This is told in a pastiche of stories using historic photos, public records and interviews. But interspersed through these is a continual repetition of sentences such as “I have never been cheated out of a dollar in my life” to shadow all of his “facts” in a deep cynicism.

This is an author with a massive axe to grind. We are told several times during the book that he started Imperial, or the idea of Imperial, as a novel. On page 1116 we were finally told what we already know very well, which is that “I began my as yet unwritten novel by hating Los Angeles.” By hating urban, by hating the rich, by hating, hating, hating the INS. The list is exceedingly long of the things he hates in this book. But with a couple of exceptions, he doesn’t say that. Instead he provides you with a large set of “photos” describing a geographic area. But what he chooses to describe, and the photo-montage he creates with those descriptions speaks as strongly to what he leaves out of the descriptions as what he includes.

I also found it annoying that he has written a study, history, whatever that purports to describe both the Mexican and United States portions of Imperial. Annoying because the author speaks not a word of Spanish. I find this incredible. And if that isn’t insulting enough to Mexico, he then uses as an early interpreter a homeless guy who not only smells but calls the Chinese Mexicans he talks to “gooks.” Are we surprised that none wish to have anything to do with this “interpreter” and the author?

 “Extremely Verbose Ramblings – So Not Worth it!!” 2009-09-20
By N. Swindell
This book had a point, to share the disintegration and sad state of Imperial County, Ca. However, the author rambles, babbles, and goes on in such a disjoined fashion, that the book is a tedious, torturous, tiresome read. Totally disappointing, am donating my used book to Goodwill.

 “verbal irrigation” 2009-09-10
By Joseph N. Stennett (New York)
A gush of words and facts that, like desert irrigation, at first

produces impressive results, but cannot be sustained in the long

run. And one thousand pages of this stuff is a very long run.

 “Editing would have helped” 2009-08-12
By Kevin Clark (Cincinnati)
I understand Vollman’s strategy but this book fails in this form. Some chapters are one sentence long and convey no information whatsoever. Some are many pages yet equally convey no information. Some convey a lot of information which may or may not be true. Vollman is the sloppiest researcher I have ever read. Any other author would have pared this down to a 500 page book, and it would have been great. As a Southern California resident I enjoy a lot of this book, such as the chapters about the formation of the Salton Sea, but the size and scope force one to skip a lot. People edit books for a reason.

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I had a rare most-of-the-day off last week and stopped by McCoy’s in Westport to see what they had on tap. Figuring I would probably never get a chance to have an imperial steam beer again, I ordered the California Uncommon, , a “double” or “imperial” version of the California common or “steam beer” style.

The most famous of steam beers is definitely Anchor Steam, which (I think) has a trademark on the use of “steam,” so the style used by brewers is actually called California common. California commons are beers made like ales using lager yeasts. Traditionally, they were fermented in coolships to take advantage of the cooler ambient temperatures around the San Francisco Bay area, but the brewing process can vary quite a bit from brewer to brewer.

One of the recent trends in brewing seems to be taking somewhat mild beers and cranking them out as doubles. Rogue has their imperial Pilsner, and the moment Boulevard announced their Pilsner earlier in the year I predicted (correctly… It’s a Christmas Miracle!!!) that they would add an imperial Pilsner as a new Smokestack beer. So, taking the California common and turning it into a double doesn’t seem like much of a stretch, all things considered, but you do have to wonder how much of the beer’s original intended character is really retained when you inject it full of hops and alcohol? The thing about the more traditional doubles like imperial IPA’s and stouts is that they are like their original brethren, only “more.” In the case of IPA’s, more alcohol and more hops, and in stouts more alcohol, more malt, more chocolate, coffee, roast, etc.

Based on the description at McCoy’s, I figured the California Uncommon would be very IPA-like. It was served in a nice tulip glass, as seen above, and it had a slightly tan head that quickly disappeared. Not much aroma to be had here.

The flavor was intensely hoppy, with a very resiny kind of hops. At first I sort of pegged this as being like a barleywine, but after about 1/5 of the glass, the hops had REALLY built and it was very double-IPA like, but with a drier finish than I find on most DIPA’s. I took some notes, but I lost my scrap of paper that had the notes! Sheesh!

I remember the carbonation as being quite low, and the hops were really dominant. There was a fair amount of alcohol, and it seemed to get a little hot with larger sips, really carrying all those bitter compounds in a way that wasn’t entirely pleasant. Overall, I was pretty satisfied with this beer. To me, it retains none of the qualities of steam beer, but does make for a pretty likable DIPA!

December 6, 2009
Imperial Martini

December 6, 2009
Jamie’s Martini

December 5, 2009
Hasty Martini

Still trying to catch up on the backlog here.  Good grief.  I need to get through writing about these before I inadvertently end up drinking some of them twice!  (Usually not necessarily a bad thing, but …). 

As you might have guessed by the title, I was less than enamored with all three of these.  The Imperial was 6 parts gin, 2 parts dry vermouth (FAIL right there, too much vermouth), 1/2 tsp maraschino liqueur, and 3 to 5 dashes of Angostura bitters.  I did cut back the vermouth by about 20% or so when I measured it, and I only used the minimum dashery (my new word du jour) of bitters.  Still not a big draw for me.  It wasn’t a bad drink, it just also wasn’t a very good drink.  I’ll give this one the “Blech” rating of 3.25 stars.  Lower the vermouth and maybe just one dash of bitters, it would be decent, I think.

Jamie’s Martini was basically yet another Screwdriver by another name.  And you know how I get about those.  So this rates an  “Ehhh”.  6 parts vodka, 1 part triple sec, 2 parts fresh orange juice, 1/4 teaspoon bar sugar.  I mean, as far as Screwdrivers go, this wasn’t a bad one, so I’ll give it a 3.75 rating.  I admit that I do tend to use the cheaper vodka when I’m mixing a lot of stuff into it like orange juice and such that is really going to mask any taste and quality differences – I don’t know if that would have helped this drink any.  I used the Kirkland vodka from Costco.  Which still isn’t exactly rotgut vodka, it’s actually pretty good.  But Ketel One it isn’t.  And my biggest beef with it is that the bottle it comes in is HUGE – I think the size is 1.75 liters, which isn’t a bad thing, especially since my boyfriend bought it for me while we were at Costco and I didn’t have to pay for it!  But the bottle is literally so tall that it doesn’t fit in the freezer.  And I don’t have room in there to lay it on its side, so it is the only vodka bottle I have (and I think there are 12 total) that sits on the counter.  Even sitting on the counter is a problem because again, it is so tall – any cupboard door that I open bangs into it unless I leave it sitting on my kitchen island, where there are no overhanging cupboards.  Perhaps I should make a centerpiece out of it?  I could get one of those holly and berry candle rings and pop that around the base, after all, it ’tis the season.  Or I could just motivate myself to drink it faster.  Yeah, that’s the ticket. 

Last up is the Hasty Martini, 6 parts gin, 1 part dry vermouth, 3 to 5 dashes of Pernod, and 1 teaspoon grenadine.  That damn Pernod again.  I only used 3 dashes – I would have cut back more, but I wanted to do justice to the recipe.  But you have probably figured out from reading my posts by now that Pernod is NOT one of my favorite additions.  To anything.  Well, maybe the toilet.  And yes, this is the “Icky” rating, I’ll give this one 2.5 stars.  I’d rate it lower but I’m sure there is something worse out there, probably one of the ones Sue and I have decided to skip for this blog (that will be a separate post, coming up soon).

Harry! Don't Make Me Drink the Pernod!

There is actually a drink coming up, Sue may have already blogged about it, called the New Orleans martini, that when I saw the recipe for that one included 1 PART Pernod (as opposed to a few DASHES), I knew that either Sue had to take that one or we had to leave it off the list altogether.  The prospect of adding that much Pernod to a martini and then drinking it made me feel like Dumbledore must have felt in the cave of the Inferi, having to swill all that nasty potion to get to (what proved to be fake) the Horcrux.  Given that I don’t have Harry here to persuade me to consume it, nor do I even have Daniel Radcliffe here to offer to serve it up to me (well, wait, let me rethink this … I suppose I could find SOME way to suddenly pretend I like Pernod, and … isn’t he old enough for a 46-year-old woman by now that I wouldn’t get charged with anything like statuatory rape?  Hmmm.  Okay, you’re right.  I’m old enough to be not only his mother but probably his grandmother if I were really pushing the reproductive barriers.  Thanks for rubbing that in. 

Cheers,
Cathy

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While staring out the window at the treacherous rain yesterday I couldn’t help but reminisce of my trips to Costa Rica.  The pounding rain atop the roof of my house reminded me of the times I would lay awake listening to the rain among the pounding surf of Playa Hermosa.  I can only dream of the tropical perfection Costa Rica has to offer right now.  In desperation of being reminded of how much I love that country, I threw together this little collage of photos taken along Playa Hermosa.  I printed this in 16 x 20 which I will hang right above my desk…to remind me of the amazing times I have had while traveling through Costa.  Prints are available for purchase, contact me if you are interested.  kcannon352@yahoo.com

www.KyleCannonPhotography.com

So as the title says, I’m back and have been for a few days, I’ve just had a few things busying me. These things are, including but not limited to:

• Drinking
• Forgetting my keys and having to walk to my friend’s house in the rain at 2AM
• Unpacking
• Tidying
• Meeting up with some friends
• Christmas shopping
• Listening to the new(ish) Slayer album
• Guitar playing/lyric writing for my album
• Gaming
• Job hunting

The major update is that a part-time job that I applied for at the Gas Company is looking promising, I got phoned today for an interview later this week. If I got the job, my hours would be 12PM-2PM every weekday, and 9AM-5PM on Saturday. So fairly casual hours, which is great because it’s over £9 an hour, and I’d have commission, profit share and health insurance to back it up, which would all add up to being very close to the money I was getting at my previous job, doing similar tasks, but with much shorter hours, and a more casual working environment. Also, I could concentrate on my music and Uni stuff, while having my much-needed rest in this gap year, after being a little burnt-out after ever-increasing school work at the Grammar School. Rest shouldn’t be such a big deal, especially since I’ve not been at school or anything for quite some time now, but my problem is that I’ve clearly been programmed for a slow pace of life, and although Guernsey is reasonably slow in comparison to some places (London being one, as I found out!), it’s still a little too fast for me. Perhaps moving to rural France might be an idea in the future…

Anyway, London. It was really good fun, quite wet most of the time, but we saw a little of the sun, and it was great to see my friend Laurence again, along with seeing Mike and James again too. The first night we were staying at Laurence’s room at Imperial College London where he studies Chemistry, and it was a big rush but I’m happy that in the end it all worked out, as I arranged for Mike and James to meet us at South Kensington tube station without telling Laurence so it would be a little bit of a surprise. I wasn’t sure if it was the right station or anything, but thankfully it was and it had the desired effect of him unknowingly walking from the tube, through the barriers and just seeing the two of them standing there!

Me and my friends in Laurence's room at Imperial. (Left to Right) Laurence, Me, James, Dave, Mike.

Laurence’s room was very nice, it was just like a more personalised hotel room. We went to Burger King for food which, although it probably sounds ordinary, is quite a big thing for us Guern’s as we don’t have any major fast food other than local Fish and Chips restaurants.

It was a great but rushed first day, and after a few drinks, James and Mike had to return back to their respective universities and me, Dave and Laurence got some sleep, with my and Dave having to sleep on the floor which was… Less than comfortable!

Day two was less rushed, which was great as I get stressed quickly and as I said earlier, I like a slower pace of life. After getting up at like 10:30AM or something, we actually went to a proper restaurant, sat down and had an English breakfast, but this was at roughly mid-day so it could be considered brunch. We then made our way to the Imperial Science Museum which was great. I loved it, especially since they had a section on Formula One!

This is me standing underneath an upside down McLaren from 2006. (The MP4-21, I believe)

After spending several hours here, going on several simulators and such, and just generally looking around the huge building, we made our way with our bags to the hotel that me and Dave were staying at for the rest of the trip. We stayed at the Premier Inn in Kensington, and I was immediately impressed. Because it was Dave that organised the hotel, I didn’t know what to expect, I was honestly only expecting a small dingy B&B style hotel similar to the cheap ones that I used to stay in occasionally in France (although they were alright, they were a little “depressing” to be in). The Premier Inn was huge, out-of-the-way from the main roads, and in a rich area of London so you felt a lot safer. Our room was up two floors in a lift that could only be accessed if you had a card, then across an enclosed walkway that went over the road, and then up to the fifth floor, then down to roughly the centre of the corridor, so it was well out-of-the-way and any paranoid thoughts I had about being in a hotel in London quickly evaporated. The room itself was very clean well-kept, nicely decorated and the beds were very comfortable, which was definitely welcome after sleeping on the floor.

We then had our tea at McDonalds (another big deal for me!) and I had my first Big Mac in well over a year, which was extremely satisfying! We explored the area a little and then headed back for a quiet night in the hotel room, as we were all quite tired after lack of sleep and a fair amount of traveling.

The next day was Laurence’s birthday, and while he had lectures in the morning, and was seeing his girlfriend in the afternoon, I organised a little trip for me and Dave to see the city a bit. It was a good day, but again a little rushed, and we saw Buckingham Palace first, where we walked through a path in St James Square which was the first time for a few days where we could get away from the city environment for a while, and it surprised me how much I appreciated the more natural environment that I’m used to, more so. It struck me how tame some of the animals in the park were. There were grey squirrels that would literally chase after you for food, looking as if they would jump on you any minute. After being to France so many times and VERY rarely catching a glimpse of a red squirrel running as quickly as they can away from you and hiding, this was very surprising and almost disappointing that they had become like that.

A very tame squirrel.

We then had dinner at Subway, where I had a delicious foot-long BLT. By this point I’m thinking that fast-food in Guernsey is now essential, but anyway, we trudge around Trafalgar Square, look in a few shops, see Nelson’s Column, then head down past Downing Street to Big Ben… Which was way bigger than I expected. It’s hard to show in a picture, but it was huge, hence the name!

Big Ben

And then we headed over a bridge to see the London, and look back on Big Ben.

Big Ben & Thames.

It was here that we discovered a brilliant place. A Namco arcade! Much money was spent here, but this place was huge in comparison to anything we’ve ever had in Guernsey. They had all sorts of games, two bowling alleys, a bar, bumper cars and more. After plenty of games, a game of bowling, and a drink at the bar, me and Dave headed out as it was dark, and Laurence would be available soon, so we headed back across the bridge…

London Eye & Thames. The building on the right that's lit up blue is where the Namco arcade was (I believe).

…And took a tube to the nearest Marks and Spencer, where we bought him a cake, and we had some drinks at the hotel, after giving him his cake and presents. Then we saw the movie “The Men Who Stare at Goats” in the Cineworld near us. Don’t get me started on how Guernsey needs a decent cinema! Seeing that on a big screen like that was great. It was a decent enough movie with some really funny moments. On the way back we went to Sainsbury’s, where I bought a knife to cut the cake that we bought Laurence. I must have looked like a murderer or something, because one of the shop workers came over and asked for ID and was interrogating me as to why I wanted to buy JUST a knife. I guess thats the way things are in big cities, but it did confuse me, coming from quiet Guernsey.

The next day was our last full day in London, which was sad, but we decided to go to Oxford Street where we did some shopping and generally saw all of the shops, and looked around the Guitar shops in Denmark Street. It easily filled up the day, and in the evening, the three of us had pizza at Pizza Hut, after a McDonalds dinner.  (Perhaps we ate a little unhealthily, but we might as well take the opportunity while we can!) It was delicious and, like with my old school’s University trip last year, I took advantage of the “unlimited free cola refills” (although not as much as last year, where I and a friend had a £1 bet on how many pints of the stuff we could drink. I won, with 7 or 8, in an hour! Needless to say, I felt like I was going to have a heart attack.)

We then headed back through Oxford Street, and took the tube to Westminster, where Laurence got his first glimpse of Big Ben (despite him living in London for a few months now), and we took him to the Namco arcade that me and Dave discovered. More money-spending gaming occurred, and also some bowling, and a few drinks at the bar. We bought a few drinks at Sainsbury’s, and then we went back to the hotel and had many more drinks, which was very enjoyable.

Dave & Vodka. These two became great friends by the end of the night!

Finally, at a very late hour, we all headed to bed and Laurence headed back to his room at Imperial. Needless to say, we all felt a little rough in the morning, and Laurence missed some of his lectures. We checked out of the hotel, but they kindly held onto our bags while we went back to the Science Museum (Dave wanted to buy some things at the shop), and then visited Harrods. Then, we got our bags, said goodbye to Laurence, and headed to Victoria Station where we got our train to Gatwick, and made our way home. Oh, and we had McDonalds for dinner of course!

All in all it was a great trip, well worth going, but the pace of life in London is far too fast for me, and it struck me just how friendly people in Guernsey are, even if it doesn’t seem like it all of the time. In London it seemed that nobody had time for you or to help you. Simple things like shop-workers either not talking to you or being rude to you, people pushing past you when walking, workers at the airport being impatient and rude… In comparison to Guernsey where people generally say hello to each other, smile and help as best as they can, and simply have the time to be patient and kind. Also the time that we went definitely wasn’t long enough, but it just reinforced my belief that a longer holiday with my friends would be awesome, and that I would love to travel the world.

We are already thinking about another trip, but it would be quite far into the future. We have two ideas; I’d love to take some friends with me to France for a couple of weeks or more, I’ve seen some really beautiful things thanks to my family, stuff that many British tourists don’t see, as we often went very far south to the Alps area. It’s so natural there, so quiet and such a relaxed pace, the complete opposite of London. This would all rely on if I could drive by this point (which is quite likely), as I would most likely organise the route-planning and such, plus I kind of know my way around the area that I’m thinking about. It would be a great, man’s trip, camping, driving around the mountains, relaxing on the river in a boat with a drink and some food, barbeques, bike rides in the sun… The world feels so huge, but inviting and almost zen-like there, whereas in London the world feels big, but maze-like and cramped at the same time.

The second idea which I DEFINITELY want to do at some point in my early twenties, is a road trip around Western USA, specifically the Nevada area, perhaps heading toward California, for like a month. It would cost a lot, but the gambling at Las Vegas, the perfect open roads, the deserts, the sun, everything would just be so great, taking us away from the 2nd millenium lifestyle that we are all forced to lead. (although perhaps not as far as the France trip).

I know it’s been a long post but I wanted to tell you as much as I could, and I didn’t want to leave anything out. Cheers, and I will update soon!

Relevant song lyric of the post: Dream Theater – Metropolis Pt. 1 (The Miracle and The Sleeper)

“The city’s cold blood teaches us to survive“

Closing KoLd Quote:

“It’s funny in a way. I went to France for years and although I felt it was beautiful, always wanted to stay at home, predominantly. Now that I stay at home, I want to travel; interestingly, to France again, amongst other places. I guess I’ve realised that the rush of the city is far too fast for me. Yet I also found France a little slow… Perhaps in my coming of age, I have grown to appreciate the rest and solace I can find in such a place…”

The next 2 days in Shinjuku New City were spent using it as base for exploring the rest of Tokyo city… in essence we covered the following station areas: Tokyo, Ikebukuro, Ginza and Roppongi Hills.

Along with our Airport Limo tickets came a total of 4 metro day passes. We used this on a day where we intended to visit station areas that had Tokyo Metro access. Sometimes some stations only have private subway lines. These lines do not accept the use of the Metro passes and you will have to purchase separate tickets.

Tokyo (via Otemachi Station the biggest subway station in Tokyo)

The Otemachi access spots are all over the place… This part of Tokyo fascinates me… alot of the city around stations are underground… you have shopping, food and services anywhere around these underground tunnels and walkways. This place must have been a nightmare for urban development planners.

The main attraction here was the Imperial Palace grounds. Its park-like in design so… any chance to see Autumn leaves, we’ll have a go at it… it takes a little walking as there are specific Gates for the grounds…. we entered through (i think) the Ote Gate (East).

We didn’t get to explore the grounds much as there was a procession of sorts that was going to start just as we walked past Hyakunin Bansho.

The Royal Horse carriages were making a double-pass along the East Gardens. Most of the area was staged for the procession so visitors were cordoned off.

The japanese are avid photographers…. many of the cameras i saw were still film SLRs… kids are well-versed in capturing the family too…

There was some buzz around a tree in the park… Sakura in Autumn?

Next stop… Ginza… which is supposed to be stone’s throw away…

Some more snaps to remind me of the sights i see from moment to moment during autumn in Tokyo…

….

Ginza station
I cannot remember the metro line we took to Ginza… by this time we were quite versed in getting around so we just got on the next available line to Ginza… we came out of the station a little disoriented as it was somewhere in the middle of a busy junction. Again not knowing which direction to head, we pulled out our Hong kong publication to get our Building-bearings… only to realise that we forgot to bring it out!

haiz…

this time i really had no clue where to turn… so we ended up in Wendy’s to decide what to do.. and also to give the kids a break from walking around so much

Most doors to establishments have automatic sliding doors to keep the heat in…

… next we hit Printemps.

I remember when Printemps was in Singapore. It was at the current Le Meridian hotel along Orchard Road. I loved shopping there and was quite disappointed by the offerings at this version of it. We made good use of the ‘facilities’ if you know what i mean… and by hunch i decided to walk along the side street next to it…

Bingo.

Ginza is lovely when it gets dark. They close up the roads for pedestrians… something i wish Singapore could do a little more of…(on public holidays or something).

No spending for us here thankyouverymuch…. the colours and lights… cannot describe…

Next up… Roppongi Hills…

A spot of current affairs.  The fate of the dollar is very much linked to its’ use in the oil trade. OPEC are a key element in any change and not much changes in OPEC without Saudi approval.

The fate of the dollar currently rests entirely on the voluntary pegging of the Saudi riyals exchange rate with the dollar.

As with ECB pronouncements on the future role of the dollar earlier in the year one wonders why SAMA the Saudi institution controlling the arrangement was compelled to announce in November  that the peg ‘benefits’ the kingdom.

The fact that Kuwait exited their own peg arrangement and thus also exited the monetary framework based on dollar pegging that was core fical policy behind the new ‘gulf’ unitary monetary policy/currency earlier on the year means that there is clearly some polar opinion on the dollar in OPEC.

The Saudis’ for historical reasons are the greatest defenders of the dollars role in oil trade.

The Saudis themselves cannot cease the dollar oil trade and trade in Euros while their own economy is pegged to the dollar.

The  death knell for the dollar will be a SAMA decision to remove the peg.

This is enables a unilateral OPEC decision to move the oil trade out of dollars.

With the next OPEC president hailing from Ecuador and taking his place in January, a country which currently stands in an unfriendly posture towards American foreign and oil interests with the move away from the dollar next year looks more probable.

Venezuela and Ecuador are in a state of ‘mini cold war’ with Colombia, the regional proxy for the American Empire.

Like Iran, Venezuela has been active in promoting an anti-dollar position in the oil markets.

The next OPEC meetings take place in December 22 and January in Vienna (OPECS HQ).

Of course OPEC will fire the dollar as the oil trades currency, how and when are the issues.

Expect the realignment of gulf monetary policy, the abandonment of the dollar peg, introduction of a new peg and shift of the oil trade into Euros soon.

The magic trick will be to do this without triggering a plunge and disturbing the carefully managed monthly 2.5 cent fall of the greenback.

These beautiful little puppies were born Dec. 2, 2009

“Home of the imperial & standard shih tzu”
We are a “In home Breeder of the Shih Tzu & Chinese Imperial Dog. These tiny babies are also referred to as Imperial Shih Tzu’s, teacup, toy, micro, miniature, purse or pocket puppy sized Shih Tzus.
If you are looking for that perfect shih-tzu………. look no more!!!! We have exactly what you want. oUR PARENTS ARE HAND PICKED TO BREED THAT PERFECT PUPPY. ALL OUR PUPPIES COME WITH A ONE YEAR HEALTH GUARANTEE, SEE CONTRACT, THEY ARe ALL IMMUNIZED AND ARE VERY SOCIALIZED. Although we do not guarantee their weight, our puppies average between 5-9 lbs. OUR PUPPIES ARE KEPT INSIDE OUR HOME AND GIVEN LOTS & lots OF lOVE & ATTENTION. WE HOPE YOU ENJOY YOUR Imperial or standard shih-tzu PUPPY AS MUCH AS WE DO OURS.

Okay, okay…I’ll stop pretending I know anything about Spanish. (Although I *will* say that it is awfully embarrassing/depressing that after six years of studying the language [...seven years ago...], my vocabulary is limited to a few choice phrases…and even *those* I am essentially scared to say out loud to native speakers.)

And…because I know how easy it is to forget the day-to-day when you go on a trip like this and then try to recall what exactly happened to everyone back home (“There was a zipline…and then we saw some monkeys…”), I made a concerted effort to record the goings-on at the end of each day. What follows is basically me writing up my notes. (And just to cover my bases, I suppose, I should note that these recollections are mine and mine alone…and I’m only human and it’s possible my memory is flawed and that these recollections may not be precisely accurate…so. Perhaps read with a grain of salt. [Also? This turned out to be really long. (Even for me...) And I've been working on it forever...and as I read it for the umpteenth time, part of me is tempted to just click "Publish" already...so Days Eight and Nine may not have received the tender loving care that they deserve...and for that I hope you'll accept my humble apologies.])

Day One

Our flight was at 5:45 in the morning and a car was coming to pick us up around 3…so we just stayed up all night. It probably goes without saying that we were pretty exhausted and delirious by the time we made it to the airport. And after telling J that the easiest way to get from my apartment to JFK was to just call a car service and that this was a unique New Yorky thing and she was hip to the scene because she was with a local…we ended up with a guy who parked at the opposite end of my street and who didn’t move the car when we came out of my apartment at 3:00 in the morning with all of our luggage. (And he wasn’t driving a black Lincoln! It was, like, a gray Nissan Altima.) And then he drove like a bat out of hell and sort of got lost in Queens…and it wasn’t a Dial-7 sort of experience. We made it to JFK in two distinct pieces though…and literally the moment we walked through the airport doors, the handle on my purse broke. It was obviously too late to do anything about it (although we did search for glue at the Miami airport…only to find a man in one of the gift shops who tried to stick my strap back together with scotch tape and then advised me to “pull as hard as [I could],” and I promptly ripped it right back apart again…so he gave me a big shopping bag…that basically served as my purse for the rest of the trip.).

We were so tired we slept most of the way on both flights…and when we actually landed in San Jose, I could see some green landscape and life going on outside…but it was still sort of hard to believe that we were actually there — even when we were waiting in line to go through Customs. I had reserved a car…so J was able to flex her language muscles for the first time when we picked it up. And once we were at the actual off-site rental counter (and they told us not to move the car if we had an accident as it would render our insurance null and void), I asked for directions to the hotel…but the guy behind the counter was a little dubious. I had picked the Gran Hotel Costa Rica because my book said it was in the center of San Jose and that it was very close to the Teatro Nacional and that it had been around since the 1930s and had some Art Deco charm to it or somesuch…and it just seemed more unique and San-Jose-y than, say, the Holiday Inn. But the guy asked if we had prepaid…and then proceeded to give us directions because we *had*, but he said it would have been a lot easier to have just stayed near the airport.

And as we headed out for the first time in our Toyota Corolla in search of the Gran Hotel, J said something like, “I hope they have parking…” and it was the first time I had actually thought about something like that. I guess I figured parking was a given. (I think this is what they call foreshadowing…)

So…finding the actual hotel wasn’t all that hard. There was a big road called Paseo Colon…and I think we had to make one lefthand turn, but that was about it. We could see the hotel off to our left. However…the hotel was in the middle of a big square…and there was no place to park nearby. So…we sort of ended up going around and around the square, wondering what to do. We eventually figured out that “parqueo” is “parking lot” and saw a tiered structure on one of the side roads…in which we found a very nice group of men who listened patiently to us — J was so much better at speaking than I was — and one of them even drew us a map. We ended up back in front of the hotel…where we saw a road sort of going underneath the hotel and the words “NO” and “something.” “Maybe it means ‘Parking for Hotel Guests Only!’” I guessed optimistically. But, nope. We couldn’t park there either. So…we ended up pulling up in front of the hotel and were sort of despairing over what to do…when a man approached us to pay to park there…and he was the one who finally explained that we had to park in the lot with the hut with the blue roof a little further down the road.

When we finally pulled into the place where we were actually allowed to leave the car, a man approached and asked for our room number. And while, in hindsight, I probably could have come up with something like, “Todavia no sabemos el numero de nuestro cuarto,” I sort of panicked in the moment and said, “Estamos llegando!” to which the man laughed and said that it was clear we were new arrivals. And as we pulled our luggage out of the trunk, he offered to call security and J said it wasn’t necessary as the hotel was just across the street and then he told us a story about a woman he found crying because someone had stolen her $1000 necklace and he said it was best for us to just wait for someone to walk over with us.

By the time we were actually checked into our room, we were both pretty frazzled. We ended up having dinner in the restaurant downstairs. Wine helped. And I had the first of several arroz dishes.

Day Two

We woke up ready to kiss San Jose goodbye and to head north to Arenal.

The hotel served a pretty decent breakfast, including — get this — blueberry juice (…which I actually thought said “blackberry juice” at first…). I was *really* excited about it…but actually found it to be a little too sweet.

After breakfast, we got directions and returned to the Corolla…and were heading back to the airport in order to ultimately go north. However, while looking for Paseo Colon again, we somehow ended up going the wrong way on a one-way street and got all turned around (which made me feel bad as J was doing this big, brave thing by driving and I was supposed to be her trusty navigator…but I swear the map said it was a two-way street *and* there was a yellow line in the middle of the road)…but eventually we found another sign for el aeropuerto and proceeded on our three-and-a-half-hour drive. It was very, very green — a really pretty drive…and definitely not like any landscape I’d ever seen before. The turns were a little hairy…and there were lots of people walking along the sides of the roads — including wee little ones…and we kept seeing signs for “queso palmito…” although I don’t think we ever quite figured out what that was.

It was all worth it when we got to Arenal though. We had the cutest little bungalow with an amazing view out back of a very lush, tropical landscape. The focal point of all the resorts in the area — the very reason they exist, in fact (their raison d’etre!) — is Volcan Arenal. And everyone at our hotel kept telling us how lucky we were to be able to see the volcano that day…as oftentimes there is so much fog you can’t see it at all. (And, sure enough — when we woke up the next day, it was gone and we didn’t see it again the entire time we were there. So. We were lucky to have gotten pictures the first day. And this brings me to the first Alaskan Similarity: Seeing Denali [also known as Mount McKinley] is kind of a crapshoot as it is often hidden by clouds. Plus — Similarity #2 — we were in Costa Rica during the rainy season…which I thought was kind of like going to Alaska in the winter. Obviously the weather is different…but in both places, the off-season means lower prices and fewer tourists and it’s still really beautiful.)

We stuck close to home for lunch on that second day, opting to eat in the one restaurant on the hotel grounds. I ordered another “typical Costa Rican dish” that came with chicken, rice, plantains, salad, cheese (perhaps queso palmito?) and a fried egg that I gave to J.

Afterward, we (bravely) donned swimwear and headed down to the pool/spa where, luckily, we were the only guests for miles and miles. J jumped in the pool straightaway despite frigid temps, but I wasn’t as courageous. Instead, I stood with my feet submerged on the top step as a hotel employee walked by and shouted, “Hace frio?” and I said, “Si!” (one of the few words I can say with much authority) and I *believe* he suggested I jump in right away to get it over with. Eventually I did. But it was darn cold. Sooo…after a lap or two, we retreated to the spa…and before too long a bartender appeared — another one of the hotel employees who commented on how lucky we were to be able to see the volcano — and she asked us if we wanted anything to drink. (There was actually a bar right up along the pool’s edge…and I suppose that in the warmer months, you can swim right up and get yourself a drink.) The special on that particular day was a Coco Loco and so soon J and I found ourselves with drinks in coconuts.

We ate in the same restaurant that night…and, this is such a dorky thing to say, but…according to my notes, I had more arroz con pollo (I was big on anything labeled “typical plate” or that was somehow otherwise blatantly Costa Rican). We had tried to go to the supermercado in La Fortuna that afternoon to stock up on some basics and to perhaps not be beholden to that one restaurant…but there was an accident on the main road and we couldn’t get through.

And –- indulge me in one more small aside – -all the rice and beans sort of made me think of the Bartender as his stepfather is from Puerto Rico and he grew up eating lots of it and it’s what he cooked for himself over and over again after he hurt his foot and was out of work and couldn’t really afford to buy much else…and one of our crises this summer was promulgated by him being stupid after he said he was sick of rice and beans and I said, “You know I can cook, right?” and he said, “You’d cook for me?” and I said, “Of course I would!” and I proceeded to plan a totally elaborate meal with an Asian-style flank steak and pickled cucumbers and whatnot…and the night before he was slated to eat said meal, he texted me to say he was going to the Jersey Shore instead. A real gem, that boy. And…prepare to breathe a sigh of relief: When I was in Costa Rica, the relative smallness of the Bartender’s actual role in the grand scheme of things finally sort of hit me. He felt really far away…and, while I still miss him, it feels like something finally shifted. It could very well be that I felt the act of going to Costa Rica was really, totally 100% moving on with my life…and that this trip was about getting out and doing things that make me happy instead of wallowing in my apartment and getting droopy eyes every time I walk by his bar. Or something. I am even attempted to identify him by name in one final reckless act to close this particular chapter…like, say, Carrie Bradshaw with Big at the end of the series or Julie Powell with D at the end of Cleaving (…more on that in my next post…)…but, then again, there are some things about him that I’d like to hold close and keep just for me. (The end.)

For dessert, the restaurant offered us a tres leches cake…and we were too full to eat it that night, so we vowed to come back for it before we left for good. I had never had tres leches before, but J had fond memories of it growing up (I think) and said her sister had it at her wedding. This, of course, got the little wheels in my head moving and when I got back to reality, I did a quick search and found an Alton Brown recipe. My mother thinks Alton Brown is absolutely IT because he’s scientific and stuff. She is even willing to forsake our family pie crust recipe because she saw an episode of Alton’s show in which he said that a mixture of butter and lard makes for the perfect crust and he backed up his theory by explaining what fats bond to and whatnot. I admit that I, too, have been curious about using butter and/or lard…but I haven’t done so yet…and part of it is definitely because I’d feel like a traitor to my aunt and my great-grandmother. (And when J and I went back a day or two later, they were *out* of the tres leches cake…so I never actually got to try it there.)

Over our meal, we also talked about red velvet cake and J went off on a pretend tirade about how it isn’t really fair that we only use red food color…and I eventually vowed one day to try out blue velvet. (So…perhaps that will come after the Cleaving post…)

Day Three

Not a hugely early start. We had breakfast in the same restaurant…and we got lots of fruit again – including guava (I think…). But pineapple is still my favorite.

The ONE thing that J wanted to do while we were in Costa Rica was to zipline through the rainforest. I was less enthusiastic…but I wimped out of a somewhat similar experience in the sixth grade at a ropes course and so J was able to hold this over my head and to talk about how I had a great opportunity to do it over again and to conquer my fears and whatnot. So…I wanted to get the zipline over and done with early on so I wouldn’t have it hanging over my head the entire trip.

And…the hotel was nice and had given us a coupon for a free activity…so, with a heavy heart, I signed up to zipline through the rainforest on Day Three.

Since the hotel was more or less empty, I was hoping we would be the only ones on this zipline trip…but, alas, there were about ten other people, including four guides. J and I were the last to arrive, so we quickly got into our harnesses and I nervously made a joke about having a big head as one of the guides readjusted my helmet.

There were nine lines on this particular course. Another guide, Ishmael, explained to J and I how to use the brake on our right hand and he said that it was important to sit back and to try to be relaxed, etc., etc. I understood all of this more or less in theory. But when I finally looked down from the platform and saw where we were supposed to *go*, I was substantially less sure. It was SO high! And it was beautiful, to be sure…but it was SO HIGH!

J said she was nervous, but she sailed off down the line with the rest of them like an expert.

I was the last one. It was just me and Ishmael left on the first platform. He asked if I was okay. I said I didn’t know. He was nice and patient with me…but eventually I told myself that I was going to have to go sometime, so I finally let him let go of me…and, wow. I was really, REALLY tense and my hand with the brake kept flying off the line and that made me even *more* nervous and tense…and it was just so fast…

But when I got to the next platform, J (in waterproof pants!) was super-nice and very encouraging. She kept saying, “You’re ziplining through the rainforest! Isn’t that incredible??” But I just didn’t feel *quite* the same way about it. It *was* really beautiful. And I am certainly glad I did it…but it’s one of those things that I have crossed off the list of Things To Do Before I Die…and that’s it for me and ziplining, I think.

For the next two lines, it was just me and Ishmael on the platform again after everyone else had left…and it required a lot of encouragement for me to let go again. (I believe the poor guy had to listen to me say, “This wasn’t my idea! J wanted to do this! I’m here for her!” a little more than once…) It was so beautiful and green and, well, rainforesty…and unlike anything I have ever seen before…but I had to look straight ahead toward the end point and focus on that and that alone or I never would have made it. I could, however, sort of see all the pretty stuff in my peripheral vision…and despite all of the worries I had about falling or lines snapping, I *did* acknowledge how beautiful it was, too. (The guides kept saying to relax and enjoy the scenery, but…easier said than done, man.)

PLUS you were supposed to pull yourself up so they could hook you onto the line…but I have absolutely no upper body strength whatsoever (not to mention that I have been feeding feelings for months and months and have maybe never been so fat in my entire life)…and so…more elementary school flashbacks to those California State Physical Education Tests (or whatever they were called) and my inability to do a single pull-up. So, basically, I failed. And I hadn’t – or, heck, haven’t – failed at much in my short(-ish) life. But…despite my best efforts to pull my damn chin up over that damn pole, it never happened. And then we moved to Mississippi where no one had to take tests like that (…but…where further humiliation ensued after I joined the girls’ basketball team without realizing what I was getting myself into and ended up on the team with a certain Jennifer White who absolutely hated my guts because I was so bad and who went on – I believe – to play for the Mississippi State Bulldogs. [And, ironically, our mothers befriended each other in the stands while watching Jennifer win games and me warm benches…but that is a story for another day]).

So…after not pulling myself up on the line and having two distinct panic attacks, I found myself face-to-face with the longest of the ziplines: Number Three. And, boy, oh boy…after Ishmael let me go, I was cursing in my head to such an extent that I would have made sailors, longshoremen and car mechanics blush. (There was a mom along for the trip – her daughters, probably aged 7 or 8 and 11ish, put me to shame – who told me that it helped to scream…but I couldn’t bring myself to actually do that. It was silent terror.)

And as I was gearing up for the fourth line and wondering how on earth I could do this six more times, Ishmael finally said, “Do you want me to go with you?” And I excitedly said, “Yes!”

This solved everything. With Ishmael behind me, I no longer had to worry about how/when to brake…and it was completely comforting to think that if I was going to fall into the rainforest below, a strange man was coming down with me.

He was really sweet about it – when we were gearing up to go on the next platform, he called himself my “private taxi” and hooked his line up to mine again. And it was, like, such a damsel in distress moment that I couldn’t help but think of him as my hero a little bit…although, sadly, even though the zipline guys had a little hut on the hotel grounds and we had to walk by it to go to the restaurant and stuff, I never saw him again after that trip. Wistful sigh…

After two lines together, he asked if I thought I could go alone again…and I begrudgingly said I could…and then he said he’d go with me on the final line, which perked me up immensely. And I found that the guides were right and it really *did* help to be more relaxed…although, as noted, it was not easy to do.

And there was also a strange intimacy associated with ziplining…by which I mean Ishmael could get away with saying things like, “Wrap your legs around me!” and he wasn’t just being skeevy.

Later, J and I were in the hot tub and reminiscing about our adventure and I spoke of a moment on one of the platforms when I had been hooked up on the line but was waiting for Ishmael – and I had perhaps just moments earlier confessed my schoolgirl crush, which, in hindsight, may have accounted for her line of thinking – and I was sort of swinging around and not in complete control of myself when I accidentally kneed one of the other guides in the crotch. So…I said to J, “I kneed him in the crotch,” and J looked totally horrified and I said, “It was an accident! I didn’t mean to!” and a wave of relief spread over her face and she said, “Oh! I thought you were saying, ‘I need him in the crotch.’”

After Line Nine was in the can, the guys offered an optional rappelling adventure and I was sort of torn…on the one hand, I felt like I should do it because I was in Costa Rica and when on earth was I going to have another opportunity to go rappelling down a waterfall? But, on the other hand, I had already done a really brave thing that day…and when I realized that I really hadn’t paid attention to what the guy was saying about how to lower yourself off the platform, I figured I had probably had enough boundary extension for one day.

J was brave though. She rappelled.

As I waited for her by the bus, one of the guides pointed out a bat in a banana tree…and lots of vampire jokes ensued. (Blame Twilight?)

Then there was lots of rain and fog…and the volcano was totally obscured – it was like it wasn’t even there…which, again, sort of reminded me of trying to spot Denali in Alaska. Sometimes you get lucky and it’s a clear day…but when it’s cloudy, you get bupkus. We finally understood why everyone had said it was such a big deal the day before. We were concerned it was perhaps *too* foggy to drive to La Fortuna, but we were sick of the restaurant, so we decide to brave it anyway. There, we stocked up on platanos tostados (my absolute favorite), empanadas, and some sort of cheese sticks, among other comestibles…and we had a little picnic on our patio. There was a cat wandering the hotel grounds that appeared again…and I wanted to take her photo, but J initially chastised me for trying to exploit the poor animal…and later relented when she was annoyed that the cat wouldn’t go away.

Day Four

We had to get a really early start because a bus was stopping by to pick us up and take us to Cano Negro. (We still managed to sneak in breakfast at the restaurant though. More plantains. Which, as noted, I love.)

We had two guides, both named Javier. And after stopping at two more hotels to pick up an additional couple/family, one Javier drove while the other regaled us with folklore. Our first stop was an iguana refuge that Javier alluded to by telling us that the particular animal we were about to see is known as, “chicken of the tree.” (Plus, fun fact: Males are bright orange.)

Javier asked us if anybody in the group spoke Spanish…and then he made the dos cervezas joke that everyone seems to make after asking if anyone knows Spanish (“The only thing you need to know how to say is, “Dos cervezas, por favor…”).

When we finally got to Las Chiles, we boarded a pontoon boat…which sort of reminded me of a scene from the African Queen…

The driver of the boat was known as “Eagle Eyes” because of his incredible ability to spot animals…and he was totally deserving of the name. And this was yet another part of the trip that reminded me of Alaska — Similarity Three — the boat ride was sort of like taking the bus in Denali…you have to keep your eyes peeled and what you see over the course of the day is totally a crapshoot. But…as soon as someone sees something and shouts, “Stop!” the bus (or boat) will pull over and everyone oohs and ahhs and takes pictures and then you all set off again…I was a little worried at first because there was a birdwatching couple from England that repeatedly spotted birds…and we initially stopped for each one and Javier explained what it was…and, you know, I like birds as much as the next guy…but I was really jonesing for some monkeys. Luckily, after we’d more or less seen one of each of the birds they have in Cano Negro, the guide politely acknowledged the couples’ subsequent discoveries, but we didn’t pull over anymore. (And then little boy on shore waved at us. And my biological clock began ticking just a little louder…)

And then…a sloth! And howler monkeys (including an orange one that Javier said had a genetic abnormality that happens when the grandfather is also the father)! And another kind of monkey (perhaps spider?)! And capuchin monkeys! And caimans! (Caimen?) It was really quite something.

We crossed over the Nicaraguan border very briefly — really only long enough to take a picture of the “Welcome to Nicaragua” sign and to turn around. But, technically speaking, I have been to Nicaragua now. (Sort of like Kentucky. I was there for about 15 minutes this summer while we were killing time. It was really only long enough to take a picture of some chickens. So…not sure if I can count it on my list of new states this year…which, for the record otherwise numbers five: New Mexico, Texas, Arkansas, Virginia and Colorado.)

We went back down the Rio Frio, where we saw more birds, bats and another sloth. Javier warned us that you have to be really careful with your camera on beaches as capuchin monkeys really like shiny objects and will run up and steal them from you if you are not vigilant.

And I swear this wasn’t all that I ate, but after we disembarked, we stopped off for more arroz con pollo before the hour-long drive back to Arenal. There, J began talking to a couple from Houston who were in Costa Rica celebrating their anniversary and who really liked Vancouver as well…and they said they had recently visited New York, but hated it…in part because, as the husband said, there are too many foreigners.

It was mostly quiet on the drive back to Arenal…along the way, we stopped off at a farm where we saw some more animals and ate a cassava-cheese thing that was kind of the same consistency as a lemon bar. I liked it.

By then, it was raining again…but we were really lucky that the weather was so nice while we were on the river. It rains eight months out of the year there…which, again, is sort of like Alaska (in that winter — like the rainy season — is really, really long).

That night, J and I returned to the hot tub…where there were a group of youngsters cavorting…including a couple of boys who cut up limes and dropped them into their shorts and squealed.

Day Five

I got up early to go horseback riding. J had opted out of this particular activity…but it had been SO long since I’d been horseback riding and I really wasn’t sure when I would have a chance to do it again, so I decided it was worth going sola. But, unlike the zipline adventure that I had hoped would be just me and J, the morning horseback ride turned out to actually be just me and the guide, Alex.

My horse’s name was Eclipse. Alex asked me how long it had been since I’d ridden a horse and I did some quick math and came up with a 17-year estimate. And…Eclipse trotted and galloped a lot faster than anything I remembered…plus, it was raining and everything was muddy and slippery. The ol’ boy even got up to a canter at one point – which, when I was taking lessons as a girl, was the really big, scary thing that took me a long time to do.

While I was getting ready that morning, I wanted to wear my yellow pants…but because it was raining so much, I *had* to bring my rain jacket…which, unfortunately, is yellow…and I didn’t want to look like I belonged on Deadliest Catch…so I went with my red pants instead…but then Alex gave me a blue helmet…so I ended up looking like a character on a children’s television show (Or worse.).

We saw a howler monkey at the very beginning…but, despite Alex’s best effort to hoot at it, it didn’t make a peep. We also saw a lot of vultures and some toucans…but, sadly, the toucans were sort of hard to make out (distinctive beaks, I guess…but that’s about it…) and so Toucan Sam remains my benchmark. (I hate to whip out Alaska again, but I was really excited about seeing puffins for the first time at Prince William Sound [also where I saw otters in the wild for the first time…]. They’re so tiny! And I think this is maybe Similarity #5?)

The ride was really rainy and muddy…and, like I said, Alex kept telling me to make kissy noises at the horse to make him go faster, but I was perfectly happy with taking a more leisurely pace. (Alex also kept calling me, “Vacara!” and “Cowgirl!”) There were lots of rocks and streams and stuff…so we definitely got out beyond where I ever could have possibly walked on foot…and it was all worth it when we got into the rainforest…which was my absolute favorite part. It was so beautiful and green and just like I had always pictured it (instead of, you know, sort of taking it in peripherally as I flew by in the trees)…

We ran into another group along the way…but, as noted, my Spanish is perhaps less than conversational…and so other than, “Buenas!” I was pretty much out. There was a big lake near the volcano that had lots of water lilies in it and Alex had me bring Eclipse out into the middle of it so he could take a picture of me and the horse in the water. (Alex was really sweet and took a lot of photos of me and the horse along with way…which is just one of the reasons it is so unfortunate that I looked like such a buffoon.)

Unfortunately, we couldn’t see the volcano again because of the fog…but Alex still had me tie up my horse when we reached the top of the mountain so we could give him a breather…which I maybe thought was a little strange as the other group came up right behind us, but went on without a break. And then Alex asked me how old I am and if I am married and it was a little awkward…and I, in turn, asked him all the questions I could possibly think to ask…but then I ran out and we were still just sort of sitting there and I was trying to think about how to nicely ask about when we were going to untie the horses and hit the road again…but finally — after an interminably long break — we took off again.

On the way back, Alex took us through a pen with a bunch of bulls in it — big, huge bulls with jowly necks — and I guess he could tell I was maybe a little nervous as he said, “Don’t worry! Bulls are afraid of horses!” I am not entirely sure I believe him…but, no harm, no foul…and I guess in hindsight, it is kind of fun to be able to say that I rode a horse among Costa Rican bulls.

Along the way down, we ran into the owner of the bulls…who was also on horseback. He was wearing a black cape and had a black cowboy hat and his horse was black, too, and Alex took a picture of him giving me a thumb’s up and I couldn’t help but think that he looked like a Black Bart-type character.

Alex said we should keep our eyes peeled for wild pigs on the way back…and I was tempted to ask about whether they are javelinas as my parents have wild pigs near *their* house…but I was still feeling a little awkward from our “Why are you not married?”-conversation at the top of the mountain and it was still raining and my pants were soaked through and I had a pool of water in the hood of my jacket and, while enjoyable and memorable and everything, I was sort of ready to be done with the whole thing. (We didn’t find any pigs anyway.)

And, you know, the whole time I was thinking, “Boy, Lisa, you’re really going to pay for this tomorrow,” and I was scared that I was going to be sore forever…but, amazingly, I was fine. If anything, my stomach muscles hurt after ziplining…and I really didn’t even pull myself onto the line all that much. One of the poor guides (not my beloved Ishmael) had to help me. (Cringe.) Is it perhaps possible that worrying can make your stomach muscles hurt?

In the hot tub that night, J and I met a guy named Jeff from Jacksonville…who was a big surfer and was talking about perhaps moving to Costa Rica…at least for six months out of the year so he can catch lots of gnarly waves. He seemed rather disappointed with Arenal as he couldn’t see the volcano and there wasn’t much of a nightlife there. At dinner, J said that if I wanted him, he was all mine. I had – not arroz con anything! – tilapia a lo macho…which was supposed to be spicy…but either I am tough or it wasn’t that bad. And…I had seen a lot about a beer called Imperial, which billed itself “La cerveza de Costa Rica,” and this was the first night that I tried it. Good stuff. (Although every meathead American guy at the airport was wearing an Imperial t-shirt on the way home, so it may just be that I have bad taste…)

Day Six

We had to finally say goodbye to Hotel Montana de Fuego. And…I was kind of sad about it. I had gotten (mildly) attached to our cute little bungalow and – here’s unequivocal proof of how clingy I am – I would officially never see Ishmael ever again. (I also finally summoned up the courage to take a picture of the oxcart at the restaurant there by thinking about my mother’s “What are you worried about?? You’re never going to see these people ever again!”-advice.)

J expertly maneuvered our Corolla back down south to Alajuela (which, we learned, is far superior to San Jose when it comes to accommodations near to the airport. MUCH more low-key). We wanted to eventually head further south to Manuel Antonio, but to sneak in a tour of a coffee plantation while we were at it…and Alajuela seemed the perfect halfway point.

We tried to retrace our steps…but it got a little confusing in San Ramon…which was the first place I had to pop out to ask for directions. (By the end of the day, I had never said, “Estamos buscando X y no sabemos donde estamos,” so many times in my life.)

Along the way, we stopped off for more plantain chips…but, sadly, these weren’t as good as those first ones from that supermercado in La Fortuna. (I think they had some lime. SO good.)

We had a devil of a time finding our hotel…it was on the same road as a giant aviary called “Zoo Ave” and I got a lot of mileage out of saying, “Estamos buscando Zoo Ave…” and then we saw a sign that said the hotel was in 1200 meters (damn the metric system!) and I swore we had gone 1200 meters and then some and there was no sign of a hotel and so we stopped at a furniture store and I used my phrase on a guy on a motorcycle…and, while he hadn’t heard of our hotel specifically, he told me that all of the hotels were down to our left…and I really wanted to say, “But there’s a sign right over there that says our hotel is in 1200 meters!” But, alas, I could not…and so I was pointing to where the sign was and trying to say something about the hotel as he was saying, “There are no hotels that way!” So, sadly, after all those Spanish classes in high school and college, I was left on that street in Alajuela, thinking, “How in the hell do you say, ‘sign’?” Sigh again.

We *did* finally find it though…and it was a cute little cabiny room…with a very bizarre showerhead.

J and I were *supposed* to go on the 3:30 tour at Doka Estate…but, alas, we got really lost again…and I tried to use my phrase…but to no avail. (The guy who owned our hotel in Alajuela was a very chatty Canadian who later told us that Ticos – that’s Costa Ricans – find it very rude not to answer a question…and so sometimes they will tell you something just to tell you something.) So…we totally missed our tour, but were determined to find the damn Estate so that we wouldn’t have so much trouble the following morning…and the lady at the front desk at our hotel had said that we’d just go two kilometers and then turn left and then go another two kilometers until we got to the fork in the road and then turn right and then we’d see tons of signs…but…we didn’t see any signs…and facil it was not.

Along the way, we *almost* stopped off for dinner at a place called El Mirador that was supposed to have amazing views…but we ended up going back to our hotel and then walking to a seafood joint called La Princesa that had a giant anchor out front (it was one of the landmarks they gave us when giving us directions to Doka Estate). I had more rice and shrimp and Imperial…and we ordered tres leches…but J didn’t like it very much. I liked the flavor…but thought the texture was a little bit like watery cheesecake.

On the walk back home, we saw giant leafcutter ants all in a line, each carrying a single leaf. And…it wasn’t exactly a restful night as there were very loud Englishmen outside *and* there was a storm.

Day Seven

In an attempt *not* to get lost again, we got very long-winded directions from the Canadian guy who owned the hotel.

And, as luck would have it, we *thought* we had found Doka Estate the evening before, but…really all we had found was one of the signs…and so we had to keep going up the hill and we still sort of struggled to find the damn place…even after all that legwork from the day before.

We *finally* arrived at about 10:15 and were luckily able to sneak into the 10:00 tour that only included one couple from Michigan. There, we learned lots and lots about coffee-making from a guide who reminded me a lot of my friend Carmen. And there was unlimited free coffee at the end of the tour.

We got a little lost on the way back, but we ended up finding a gas station…so sort of kismet.

Afterward, we wanted to make our way to Manuel Antonio…and the Canadian guy had sworn up and down that the route was easy and there would be signs and stuff. And, luckily, he was right! It was a good three-plus-hour drive…but we didn’t get lost! And there were lots of signs! And we crossed a bridge that had crocodiles underneath and were able to pull off and see them and get right back in the car and go on our merry way…and the monkey hotel (when I read its motto was, “Still more monkeys than people,” I was totally sold) had room for us even though we didn’t have a reservation…and we got a room that looked like it was straight out of Swiss Family Robinson that was pretty much all windows and wood…and had a giant sliding door and two rocking chairs that said “Costa Rica” on the seats out front. Plus, our towels were folded into hearts and the toilet paper was folded into flowers. (I am easily impressed.) And the view from the pool was amazing and open and tropical and very much paradise-y…

We had an early dinner at a restaurant called the Anaconda (which made me think of the big butt song) and a bat flew by us over and over as we looked out on the trees and the water and swooned. I had a weird melony drink and J helped me compose a list of traits of my ideal man. (If you’re a brunette with big arms, you’re still in the running!)

Day Eight

Official Manuel Antonio Day. I was *really* looking forward to this day as the park was supposed to be crawling with wildlife. And even though I eventually outgrew the ape/monkey phase inspired by my report on orangutans in the sixth grade, I still really like them and have never had an opportunity to see them in the wild before.

The park was only a short drive from our hotel…so we quickly encountered a guy with a whistle who blew us over and told us where to park and tried to talk us into taking a tour with him. We had heard mixed reviews of these tours (including invaluable advice from Jeff from Jacksonville) and decided we might as well try to go into the park on our own as Jeff advised and that if the trip was totally a bust, we could easily go back the next day and cough up money for a guide. (This particular guide told us that we would only see two lizards the entire day if we attempted to go on our own, but he finally relented when we said we’d maybe be back…)

But as we were walking toward the park, we saw him blowing his whistle at other cars…but they ignored him and swerved around…and he had also said that the park was in 500 meters, but there was a sign around the corner as clear as day that said the park was in 1 kilometer…and then we sort of put two and two together and decided to move the car to a more accessible location.

And…even without a guide, we were still able to sort of mooch off of the tour groups in the park as we knew there would be animals wherever they were stopped. Howler monkeys were easy to spot because they’re so damn loud…but sloths were harder and were where mooching really paid off.

We eventually made it out to a beach and I took a photo of the “Don’t feed the monkeys”-sign while desperately hoping I would see some actual monkeys.

Out on the beach, J found some tadpoles in a pool in some rocks…and I followed behind but then slipped and fell in my dumb tennis shoes…and my knee really hurt…so I was perfectly happy to sit on the beach for awhile afterward while J went swimming. So…as I sat there and watched J swim and marveled at how pretty it was and pondered what to do with my life, a raccoon appeared behind me…and it surprised me, so I jumped up…and, remember that shopping bag that doubled as my purse? Well…that ballsy little raccoon came right up to where I was sitting and made a grab for it and I wasn’t quite sure what to do…but luckily a man saw what was happening and shouted and clapped at him and the raccoon ran away without my bag. (I got a photo of him though…)

And…after J was finished swimming and had showered off and everything, we walked back…and decided to pop off on one of the other trails called El Mirador. And…this is where it all happened. Out on the trail, we found so many capuchin monkeys! And they were right above our heads! And they were eating berries and talking to us…(and, yes, pooping…). And it was just so incredible — it was one of those things I will always remember. I never wanted it to end. And then on the way back, we saw more howler monkeys and sloths. It was quite a successful morning!

We had lunch at a quite little spot in Quepos called Cafe Milagro and then hung out by the pool with the magical view for awhile before changing into fancier duds and hitting up Salsipuedes (one of my favorite names *ever*) for tapas and one of the most beautiful (and fast!) sunsets I have ever seen and a black cat that ended up in my lap. I then talked J into a cantina crawl, so we hit up El Avion, La Cantina and Anaconda again…except this time they were playing that song about hos in different area codes and I was once again able to marvel at the fact that I have lived in SO MANY different places and yet the only area codes I know in that song are from Georgia and New York. And — funny enough — there was a big flat screen TV at one of the bars on which you could watch — get this — the CU/OSU game en vivo. So. A bizarre little reminder of home smack-dab in the middle of Central America.

Day Nine

Our trip was coming to an end…so we had to say goodbye to the monkey hotel, too, and make our way back to Alajuela once again.

But, as our hotel had bragged about having more monkeys than people, I really wanted to go out on one of the trails to find some of the little buggers before we left…but, alas, it was wet and there was a precipitous drop and so J and I decided to quit while we were ahead and we made our way back toward the middle of the country. The drive was pretty much okay…although we got lost a little bit more than we did on the way there…and Hotel Orquideas had a room for us (despite all of my worries that we would be high and dry without reservations for every single night that we were there…). The hotel even had a Marilyn Monroe-themed bar, where we spent the early part of our final evening there…and then we retired to our room, where I happened to catch my very favorite Costa Rican TV commercial one last time. (I *believe* it was for a deodorant…and it showed women in long sleeves who lifted their arms toward the sky and then their sleeves shot off and turned into fireworks. I cannot *believe* that I did not think to write down the name so I could search for it on YouTube.)

And, with that, Costa Rica was basically over. And soooo is my blog post.

(US) If you’ve read Dangerously Naive blog for a while (thank you for having the time and patience) you will notice on all my rumblings that I like books, photography, painting, and graphic design by now, all hobbies that paid my bills at least in different chapters of my life (different continents), reading hopefully will someday payoff and improve my new comeback love affair with writing. I love Amazon.com, I use it a lot to get rare books and dvds, and they have the most unbeatable prices, being a very visual person, it helps me a lot to see an appetizing and engaging image that’ll hook me to open the pages of the book that I just bought or planning to checkout on my Amazon.com cart list.

Every year Amazon have a year-end Best Book Cover Contest, one of their “top tens” in dozen’s of categories including the main category- Best Books of the Year, this 2009, Let the Great World Spin, Colum McCann’s beautiful, moving novel of New York City in the ’70s topped the 100 editors of Amazon’s list for the book of the year. Below are the top contenders for the BEST BOOK COVER OF 2009 and the deadline is Dec. 7 for the winners, the other categories that are not featured in this article are the Best One of a Kind Covers, the Best Cover in Children & Teens, the Best Cover in Cooking, Food & Wine, the Best Cover with Famous Faces, the Best Cover from a Series and the Best Paperback Cover. My personal favorite (for anyone who cares to know) is book designer- Doogie Horner’s take on the Jane Austin Classic, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies: The Classic Regency Romance – Now with Ultraviolent Zombie Mayhem! should bag the top category, it surely made me buy 15 copies to give away this holiday season.This is one of those rare celebration of almost all the things I love (in one article), a celebration of the unseen and often underrated driving force (the designers) in giving your favorite books the artistic facelift it deserves.

Some Nominees for Best Cover in Arts & Comics

A Shadow Falls (Hardcover) Price: $31.50

Designer: Nick Brandt and Michelle Ishay
Photograph: Nick Brandt
Author: Nick Brandt
Publisher: Abrams

Book Description (source: https://www.amazon.com/):
In A Shadow Falls, which features 58 recent images in stunning, oversized tritone plates, Nick Brandt continues his ambitious and ongoing photographic project to memorialize the vanishing natural grandeur of East Africa. Brandt’s wide-screen panoramas of animals and landscapes capture an epic vision of Africa that has not been seen before. His iconic portraits of its majestic animals are filled with an empathy usually reserved for human subjects. In years to come, we will look back at these powerful photographs and wonder why humanity did not do more to preserve this rare corner of earthly paradise.

Asylum: Inside the Closed World of State Mental Hospitals (Hardcover) Price: $26.37

Designer: Scott-Martin Kosofsky and Betsy Sarles at the Philidor Company
Photograph: Christopher Payne
Author: Christopher Payne
Publisher: MIT Press

Book Description (source: https://www.amazon.com/):
For more than half the nation’s history, vast mental hospitals were a prominent feature of the American landscape. The blueprint for these hospitals was set by Pennsylvania hospital superintendant Thomas Story Kirkbride: a central administration building flanked symmetrically by pavilions and surrounded by lavish grounds with pastoral vistas. Kirkbride and others believed that well-designed buildings and grounds, a peaceful environment, a regimen of fresh air, and places for work, exercise, and cultural activities would heal mental illness. But in the second half of the twentieth century, after the introduction of psychotropic drugs and policy shifts toward community-based care, patient populations declined dramatically, leaving many of these beautiful, massive buildings–and the patients who lived in them–neglected and abandoned.

The Map as Art: Contemporary Artists Explore Cartography (Hardcover) Price: $29.70
Designer: Jane Jeszeck, Jigsaw
Painting: Jules de Balincourt
Author: Katharine Harmon
Publisher: Princeton Architectural Press

Book Description (source: https://www.amazon.com/):
Maps can be simple tools, comfortable in their familiar form. Or they can lead to different destinations: places turned upside down or inside out, territories riddled with marks understood only by their maker, realms connected more to the interior mind than to the exterior world. These are the places of artists’ maps, that happy combination of information and illusion that flourishes in basement studios and downtown galleries alike. It is little surprise that, in an era of globalized politics, culture, and ecology, contemporary artists are drawn to maps to express their visions. Using paint, salt, souvenir tea towels, or their own bodies, map artists explore a world free of geographical constraints.

Norman Rockwell: Behind the Camera (Hardcover) Price: $21.60
Designer: McCall Associates
Art and photographs: Normal Rockwell
Author: Ron Schick
Publisher: Little, Brown

Book Description (source: https://www.amazon.com/):
Norman Rockwell: Behind the Camera is the first book to explore the meticulously composed and richly detailed photographs that Norman Rockwell used to create his famous artworks. Working alongside skilled photographers, Rockwell acted as director, carefully orchestrating models, selecting props, and choosing locations for the photographs–works of art in their own right–that served as the basis of his iconic images. Readers will be surprised to find that many of his most memorable characters–the girl at the mirror, the young couple on prom night, the family on vacation–were friends and neighbors who served as his amateur models. In this groundbreaking book, author and historian Ron Schick delves into the archive of nearly 20,000 photographs housed at the Norman Rockwell Museum. Featuring reproductions of Rockwell’s black-and-white photographs and related full-color artworks, along with an incisive narrative and quotes from Rockwell models and family members, this book will intrigue anyone interested in photography, art, and Americana.

Asterios Polyp (Hardcover) Price: $19.77

Designer: David Mazzucchelli
Illustration: David Mazzucchelli
Author: David Mazzucchelli
Publisher: Pantheon

Book Description (source: https://www.amazon.com/):
Meet Asterios Polyp: middle-aged, meagerly successful architect and teacher, aesthete and womanizer, whose life is wholly upended when his New York City apartment goes up in flames. In a tenacious daze, he leaves the city and relocates to a small town in the American heartland. But what is this “escape” really about?

As the story unfolds, moving between the present and the past, we begin to understand this confounding yet fascinating character, and how he’s gotten to where he is. And isn’t. And we meet Hana: a sweet, smart, first-generation Japanese American artist with whom he had made a blissful life. But now she’s gone. Did Asterios do something to drive her away? What has happened to her? Is she even alive? All the questions will be answered, eventually.

Robert Frank: Portfolio (Paperback) Price: $13.60

Designer: Robert Frank and Gerhard Steidl
Author: Robert Frank
Publisher: Steidl/The Robert Frank Project

Book Description (source: https://www.amazon.com/):
When Robert Frank immigrated to New York from Zurich in 1947, having apprenticed with commercial photographers in his hometown, the aspiring young photographer brought along his portfolio to help him secure employment. Portfolio is the facsimile version of this fascinating object. Containing Frank’s earliest original photographs as well the work of other photographers which he had retouched, the portfolio presents images of rural life in Switzerland alongside alpine landscapes, cityscapes and still-lifes. A guaranteed collector’s item, this slim, beautifully printed volume contains the seeds of a career of such scope and influence that even the ambitious 23-year-old Robert Frank could never have anticipated it.

Some Nominees for Best Cover for Classics Reimagined

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies: The Classic Regency Romance – Now with Ultraviolent Zombie Mayhem! (Paperback) Price: $7.77
Designer: Doogie Horner
Authors: Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith
Publisher: Quirk Books

Book Description (source: https://www.amazon.com/):
“It is a truth universally acknowledged that a zombie in possession of brains must be in want of more brains.” So begins Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, an expanded edition of the beloved Jane Austen novel featuring all-new scenes of bone-crunching zombie mayhem. As our story opens, a mysterious plague has fallen upon the quiet English village of Meryton and the dead are returning to life! Feisty heroine Elizabeth Bennet is determined to wipe out the zombie menace, but she’s soon distracted by the arrival of the haughty and arrogant Mr. Darcy. What ensues is a delightful comedy of manners with plenty of civilized sparring between the two young lovers and even more violent sparring on the blood-soaked battlefield as Elizabeth wages war against hordes of flesh-eating undead. Can she vanquish the spawn of Satan? And overcome the social prejudices of the class-conscious landed gentry? Complete with romance, heartbreak, swordfights, cannibalism, and thousands of rotting corpses, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies transforms a masterpiece of world literature into something you’d actually want to read.

Miss Lonelyhearts & The Day of the Locust: (Revised) (New Directions Paperbook) (Paperback) Price: $8.60

Designer: Carin Goldberg
Author: Nathanael West
Publisher: New Directions
Book Description (source: https://www.amazon.com/):
Probably West’s most powerful work, Miss Lonelyhearts concerns a nameless man assigned to produce a newspaper advice column–but as time passes he begins to break under the endless misery of those who write in, begging him for advice. Unable to find answers, and with his shaky Christianity ridiculed to razor-edged shards by his poisonous editor, he tumbles into alcoholism and a madness fueled by his own spiritual emptiness. First published in 1933, Miss Lonelyhearts remains one of the most shocking works of 20th-century American literature, as unnerving as a glob of black bile vomited up at a church social : empty, blasphemous, and horrific. Set in New York during the Depression.

The Penguin Book of Gaslight Crime: Con Artists, Burglars, Rogues, and Scoundrels from the Time of Sherlock Holmes (Penguin Classics) (Paperback) Price: $10.20

Illustration: Jaya Miceli
Editor: Michael Sims
Publisher: Penguin Classics
Book Description (source: https://www.amazon.com/):
An exclusive collection–the first-ever gathering of rogues from the gaslight era–collected here for the first time: the best crime fiction from the gaslight era. All the legendary thieves are present–Arsène Lupin and A. J. Raffles, Colonel Clay and Simon Carne, Romney Pringle, Get Rich Quick Wallingford, and the Infallible Godahl–burgling London and Paris, conning New York and Ostend, laughing all the way to the bank. Also featured are stories by distinguished writers from outside the mystery and detective genres, including Sinclair Lewis, Arnold Bennett, H. G. Wells, and William Hope Hodgson.

The Wild Things (Hardcover) Price: $11.66

Designer: Dave Eggers
Eyes Illustration: Dave Eggers
Printer: Tien Wah Press, Singapore
Author: Dave Eggers
Publisher: McSweeney’s

Book Description (source: https://www.amazon.com/):
The Wild Things–based loosely on the storybook by Maurice Sendak and the screenplay cowritten with Spike Jonze–is about the confusions of a boy, Max, making his way in a world he can’t control. His father is gone, his mother is spending time with a younger boyfriend, his sister is becoming a teenager and no longer has interest in him. At the same time, Max finds himself capable of startling acts of wildness: he wears a wolf suit, bites his mom, and can’t always control his outbursts. During a fight at home, Max flees and runs away into the woods. He finds a boat there, jumps in, and ends up on the open sea, destination unknown. He lands on the island of the Wild Things, and soon he becomes their king. But things get complicated when Max realizes that the Wild Things want as much from him as he wants from them. Funny, dark, and alive, The Wild Things is a timeless and time-tested tale for all ages.

Pride and Prejudice (Bantam Classics) (Mass Market Paperback) Price: $4.95
Designer: Ruben Toledo
Author: Jane Austen
Publisher: Penguin Classics

Book Description (source: https://www.amazon.com/):
An iconic novel dressed in a fierce design by acclaimed fashion illustrator Ruben Toledo. Ruben Toledo’s breathtaking drawings have appeared in such high-fashion magazines as Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar, and Visionaire. Now he’s turning his talented hand to illustrating the gorgeous deluxe editions of three of the most beloved novels in literature. Here Elizabeth Bennet’s rejection of Mr. Darcy, Hester Prynne’s fateful letter “A”, and Catherine Earnshaw’s wanderings on the Yorkshire moors are transformed into witty and surreal landscapes to appeal to the novels’ aficionados and the most discerning designer’s eyes.

The Prince (Bantam Classics) (Mass Market Paperback) Price: $4.50

Designer: Jaya Miceli
Author: Niccolo Machiavelli
Translator: Tim Parks
Publisher: Penguin Classics

Book Description (source: https://www.amazon.com/):
A new translation of the infamous Renaissance classic, in a striking deluxe edition. The original blueprint for realpolitik, The Prince shocked sixteenth-century Europe with its advocacy of ruthless tactics for gaining absolute power and its abandonment of conventional morality. For this treatise on statecraft, Machiavelli drew upon his own experience of office under the turbulent Florentine republic, rejecting traditional values of political theory and recognizing the complicated, transient nature of political life. Concerned not with lofty ideals, but with a regime that would last, this seminal work of modern political thought retains its power to alarm and to instruct.

Some Nominees for Best Cover in Fiction

The Interrogative Mood: A Novel? (Hardcover) Price: $14.95
Designer: Alison Forner
Author: Padgett Powell
Publisher: Ecco

Book Description (source: https://www.amazon.com/):
“Are you happy? Do we need galoshes? Are bluebirds perfect? Do you know the distinctions, empirical or theoretical, between moss and lichen? Is it clear to you why I am asking you all these questions? Should I go away? Leave you alone? Should I bother but myself with the interrogative mood?”

The acclaimed writer Padgett Powell is fascinated by what it feels like to walk through everyday life, to hear the swing and snap of American talk, to be both electrified and overwhelmed by the mad cacophony–the “muchness”–of America. The Interrogative Mood is Powell’s playful and profound response, a bebop solo of a book in which every sentence is a question.

This Is Where I Leave You (Hardcover) Price: $17.13
Designer: Gray318
Author: Jonathan Tropper
Publisher: Dutton

Book Description (source: https://www.amazon.com/):
The death of Judd Foxman’s father marks the first time that the entire Foxman family–including Judd’s mother, brothers, and sister–have been together in years. Conspicuously absent: Judd’s wife, Jen, whose fourteen-month affair with Judd’s radio-shock-jock boss has recently become painfully public. Simultaneously mourning the death of his father and the demise of his marriage, Judd joins the rest of the Foxmans as they reluctantly submit to their patriarch’s dying request: to spend the seven days following the funeral together. In the same house. Like a family.

Let the Great World Spin: A Novel (Hardcover) Price: $14.47

Designer: Robbin Schiff and Anna Bauer
Drawing: Matteo Pericoli
Author: Colum McCann
Publisher: Random House

Book Description (source: https://www.amazon.com/):
In the dawning light of a late-summer morning, the people of lower Manhattan stand hushed, staring up in disbelief at the Twin Towers. It is August 1974, and a mysterious tightrope walker is running, dancing, leaping between the towers, suspended a quarter mile above the ground. In the streets below, a slew of ordinary lives become extraordinary in bestselling novelist Colum McCann’s stunningly intricate portrait of a city and its people.

Pygmy (Hardcover) Price: $14.58

Designer: Rodrigo Corral
Author: Chuck Palahniuk
Publisher: Doubleday

Book Description (source: https://www.amazon.com/):
The Manchurian Candidate meets South Park in Chuck Palahniuk’s finest novel since the generation-defining Fight Club.

“Begins here first account of operative me, agent number 67 on arrival Midwestern American airport greater _____ area. Flight _____. Date _____. Priority mission top success to complete. Code name: Operation Havoc.”

Thus speaks Pygmy, one of a handful of young adults from a totalitarian state sent to the United States, disguised as exchange students, to live with typical American families and blend in, all the while planning an unspecified act of massive terrorism. Palahniuk depicts Midwestern life through the eyes of this thoroughly indoctrinated little killer, who hates us with a passion, in this cunning double-edged satire of an American xenophobia that might, in fact, be completely justified. For Pygmy and his fellow operatives are cooking up something big, something truly awful, that will bring this big dumb country and its fat dumb inhabitants to their knees.

Lark and Termite [DECKLE EDGE] (Hardcover) Price: $16.32

Designer: Peter Mendelsund
Author: Jayne Anne Phillips
Publisher: Knopf

Book Description (source: https://www.amazon.com/):
A rich, wonderfully alive novel from one of our most admired and best-loved writers, her first book in nine years. Lark and Termite is set during the 1950s in West Virginia and Korea. It is a story of the power of loss and love, the echoing ramifications of war, family secrets, dreams and ghosts, and the unseen, almost magical bonds that unite and sustain us. At its center, two children: Lark, on the verge of adulthood, and her brother, Termite, a child unable to walk and talk but filled with radiance. Around them, their mother, Lola, a haunting but absent presence; their aunt Nonie, a matronly, vibrant woman in her fifties, who raises them; and Termite’s father, Corporal Robert Leavitt, who finds himself caught up in the chaotic early months of the Korean War.

Chronic City (Hardcover) Price: $18.45

Designer: Rodrigo Corral
Photograph: Scott Peterman courtesy of Higher Pictures
Author: Jonathan Lethem
Publisher: Doubleday

Book Description (source: https://www.amazon.com/):
The acclaimed author of Motherless Brooklyn and The Fortress of Solitude returns with a roar with this gorgeous, searing portrayal of Manhattanites wrapped in their own delusions, desires, and lies. Chase Insteadman, a handsome, inoffensive fixture on Manhattan’s social scene, lives off residuals earned as a child star on a beloved sitcom called Martyr & Pesty. Chase owes his current social cachet to an ongoing tragedy much covered in the tabloids: His teenage sweetheart and fiancée, Janice Trumbull, is trapped by a layer of low-orbit mines on the International Space Station, from which she sends him rapturous and heartbreaking love letters. Like Janice, Chase is adrift, she in Earth’s stratosphere, he in a vague routine punctuated by Upper East Side dinner parties.

Some Nominees for Best Cover in Nonfiction

Imperial (Hardcover) Price: $34.65

Designer: Paul Buckley
Photograph: Erika Larsen / Redux Pictures
Author: William T. Vollmann
Publisher: Viking

Book Description (source: https://www.amazon.com/):
It sprawls across a stinking artificial sea, across the deserts, date groves, and labor camps of southeastern California, right across the Mexican border. For generations of migrant workers, from Okies fleeing the Dust Bowl of the 1930s to Mexican laborers today, Imperial County has held the promise of paradise–and the reality of hell. It is a land beautiful and harsh, enticing and deadly, rich in history and heartbreak. Across the border, the desert is the same but there are different secrets. In Imperial, award-winning writer William T. Vollmann takes us deep into the heart of this haunted region, and by extension into the dark soul of American imperialism.

Zeitoun (Hardcover) Price: $14.47

Illustration: Rachell Sumpter
Author: Dave Eggers
Publisher: McSweeney’s

Book Description (source: https://www.amazon.com/):
When Hurricane Katrina struck New Orleans, Abdulrahman Zeitoun, a prosperous Syrian-American and father of four, chose to stay through the storm to protect his house and contracting business. In the days after the storm, he traveled the flooded streets in a secondhand canoe, passing on supplies and helping those he could. A week later, on September 6, 2005, Zeitoun abruptly disappeared. Eggers’s riveting nonfiction book, three years in the making, explores Zeitoun’s roots in Syria, his marriage to Kathy–an American who converted to Islam–and their children, and the surreal atmosphere (in New Orleans and the United States generally) in which what happened to Abdulrahman Zeitoun was possible. Like What Is the What, Zeitoun was written in close collaboration with its subjects and involved vast research–in this case, in the United States, Spain, and Syria.

Vanished Smile: The Mysterious Theft of Mona Lisa [DECKLE EDGE] (Hardcover) Price: $16.47

Designer: Barbara de Wilde
Art: Mona Lisa by Leonardo da Vinci, ca. 1503-06 (detail). Louvre, Paris, France. Giraudon / The Bridgeman Art Library
Author: R.A. Scotti
Publisher: Knopf

Book Description (source: https://www.amazon.com/):
On August 21, 1911, the unfathomable happened–Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa vanished from the Louvre. More than twenty-four hours passed before museum officials realized she was gone. The prime suspects were as shocking as the crime: Pablo Picasso and Guillaume Apollinaire, young provocateurs of a new art. As French detectives using the latest methods of criminology, including fingerprinting, tried to trace the thieves, a burgeoning international media hyped news of the heist.

1959: The Year Everything Changed (Hardcover) Price: $18.45

Designer: Susan Olinsky
Author: Fred Kaplan
Publisher: Wiley

Book Description (source: https://www.amazon.com/):
It was the year of the microchip, the birth-control pill, the space race, and the computer revolution; the rise of Pop art, free jazz, “sick comics,” the New Journalism, and indie films; the emergence of Castro, Malcolm X, and personal superpower diplomacy; the beginnings of Motown, Happenings, and the Generation Gap-all bursting against the backdrop of the Cold War, the fallout-shelter craze, and the first American casualties of the war in Vietnam.

The Lost City of Z: A Tale of Deadly Obsession in the Amazon (Hardcover) Price: $18.15

Designer: John Fontana
Photograph: Beth Wald, Aurora Photos
Author: David Grann
Publisher: Doubleday

Book Description (source: https://www.amazon.com/):
A grand mystery reaching back centuries. A sensational disappearance that made headlines around the world. A quest for truth that leads to death, madness or disappearance for those who seek to solve it. The Lost City of Z is a blockbuster adventure narrative about what lies beneath the impenetrable jungle canopy of the Amazon.

After stumbling upon a hidden trove of diaries, acclaimed New Yorker writer David Grann set out to solve “the greatest exploration mystery of the twentieth century:” What happened to the British explorer Percy Fawcett and his quest for the Lost City of Z? dramatically, leaving many of these beautiful, massive building-and the patients who lived in them–neglected and abandoned.

Fordlandia: The Rise and Fall of Henry Ford’s Forgotten Jungle City (Hardcover) Price: $18.15

Designer: Rodrigo Corral Design/Ben Wiseman
Illustration: Mark Stutzman
Author: Greg Grandin
Publisher: Metropolitan

Book Description (source: https://www.amazon.com/):
In 1927, Henry Ford, the richest man in the world, bought a tract of land twice the size of Delaware in the Brazilian Amazon. His intention was to grow rubber, but the project rapidly evolved into a more ambitious bid to export America itself, along with its golf courses, ice-cream shops, bandstands, indoor plumbing, and Model Ts rolling down broad streets. Fordlandia, as the settlement was called, quickly became the site of an epic clash. On one side was the car magnate, lean, austere, the man who reduced industrial production to its simplest motions; on the other, the Amazon, lush, extravagant, the most complex ecological system on the planet. Ford’s early success in imposing time clocks and square dances on the jungle soon collapsed, as indigenous workers, rejecting his midwestern Puritanism, turned the place into a ribald tropical boomtown. Fordlandia’s eventual demise as a rubber plantation foreshadowed the practices that today are laying waste to the rain forest.

https://www.amazon.com/
Related Entry: http://naiveboy.com/2009/11/06/armed-with-saliva-by-navo/

LEGO Star Wars Mini Imperial Shuttle (4494) Review

Check Price Now!

Star Wars mini vehicles allow users to create vast scenes from the movies without spending thousands of dollars. Each new model has at least one special piece so that you won’t be able to duplicate it exactly by using other pieces in your collection.

The Imperial Shuttle is a nice looking model and the side wings do fold into the upright position.

The directions are standard Lego format and are easy to follow. The final construction is solid. There are no packaged instructions for combining parts of this model with others to create a different Star Wars vehicle (some of the other sets do).

All in all, very nicely done.

LEGO Star Wars Mini Imperial Shuttle (4494) Feature

• Build the personal ship of the Emperor!
• Wings move up and down
• Great addition to any Star Wars collection
• Provides classic building enjoyment while sparking imaginative play for endless fun

LEGO Star Wars Mini Imperial Shuttle (4494) Overview

Personal ship of the Emperor! The Imperial ShuttleTM is used to transport Emperor Palpatine from world to world. Move the wings up and down as you maneuver for a perfect landing. Add this exciting Star WarsTM MINI Model to your collection!

LEGO Star Wars Mini Imperial Shuttle (4494) Specifications

*** Product Information and Prices Stored: Dec 04, 2009 12:45:04
Overpriced but fun – Lori A. Mcconnell – Utah
This Lego mini set is fun, but when you compare the Lego set we could have gotten in a store for the same price, it wasn’t worth it to me as a parent. My son enjoys it though, and is happy with the shuttle. It is just overpriced for the amount of Legos that is comes with.
Fun to have sitting around – John A. Dodds – Ann Arbor, MI USA
It’s always interesting how few pieces the LEGO people can use and still create cool little kits like this Imperial shuttle. Of course, they “cheat” a little with the increasing array of special pieces at their disposal! I’ve had this little shuttle sitting on top of a Pringles can as if it were a landing pad; it looks cool that way. Yes, I’m a geek.
May the Lego Bricks be with you. – WaiMing – Malaysia
This is one of the coolest Lego Star Wars mini sets. It is almost 100% resembles the actual Imperial Shuttle from the Star Wars Trilogy films. Go get it before all the stock captured by the Imperial Forces. I planned to get the Lego Darth Maul’s Sith Infiltrator mini set. It has cool landing gears and a movable ramp. Thank you.

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[CLEVELAND] — Another arraignment for 50 year old Anthony Sowell, the man accused of killing 11 women in his Imperial Avenue home, and attacking 3 others.

Sowell appeared by video from the Cuyahoga County jail. Judge Eileen Gallagher asked Sowell to answer to the 85 count indictment, which includes 11 charges of aggravated murder.

Showing no emotion, Sowell pleaded not guilty by reason of insanity. Sowell sat patiently through the proceedings answering each question posed by Judge Gallagher.
Assistant prosecutor Gayle Williams requested that Sowell be held on $14 million bond, $1 million for each of his 14 victims.

Judge Gallagher went further, not hesitating she ordered Sowell held without bond, and set his pre-trial hearing for December 7th before Judge Timothy McGinty. Defense attorneys will be assigned to him at that time.

Assistant Cuyahoga County prosecutor Rick Bombik has no problem with Sowell taking the insanity plea, because he doesn’t think a jury will believe it.

Bombik says don’t expect a plea deal in this case. They are confident of getting a death penalty conviction.

Bombik admits this is the most unusual and horrific case he’s experience in his long career as an assistant prosecutor. Sowell was indicted Tuesday on 85 charges, including murder, rape, assault and corpse abuse.

He is accused of murdering 11 women and could get the death penalty if convicted of any of the killings. Ten bodies and a skull were found at his Cleveland home.

On Wednesday, FBI agents with cadaver dogs searched another house where Sowell lived before going to prison for 15 years for a 1989 attempted rape. No bodies were found.

©2009 the Associated Press. All rights reserved

Just reminding you about my earlier posts on keeping you in the loop!

All By N Baby Pink and Grey Lace Scarf

Today All by N, the new concept scarf, at the Pink Powder Room, click here for more details.

Pour Elles Exhibition

This saturday and sunday the Pour Elles exhibition is on for the second time at the Imperial Boat.

BCBG MaxAzria Disco Event

 

Mark your calendars for the BCBG MaxAzaria Disco Event celebrating the december holiday season (I can hear bells jingling and fireworks firing!) .  Visit City Stars Phase 2 3rd Floor on December 12th and you can get 30% off of the new party dress collection and discounts on new years eve party tickets!

  ]]> http://eideard.wordpress.com/2009/11/30/saddam-hussein-tv-channel-launched/ Mon, 30 Nov 2009 16:00:08 +0000 eideard http://eideard.wordpress.com/2009/11/30/saddam-hussein-tv-channel-launched/ http://100beers30days.wordpress.com/2009/11/30/road-trippin/ Mon, 30 Nov 2009 04:51:27 +0000 100beers30days http://100beers30days.wordpress.com/2009/11/30/road-trippin/

I made friends fast with awesome Melissa. Look at all of those delicious beers...

I am a diehard fan of setting out on the open road when life gets a little stuffy and stifling.  Hence…my years zigagging the east coast as a loyal Deadhead.  And then a Phish follower. And numerous camping expeditions. Those of you how know me well, are aware that I get ants in my pants, so to speak, and gotta go see the world. Which might also explain my living in Australia, New Zealand, Italy, New York, Atlanta, California, and New Orleans. Really.

The BEST fries I've ever eaten. I'm not kidding friends. EVER.

I was feeling a major case of cabin fever Friday morning, and decided to strike out with my friend and supporter, Mike.  I had learned, shockingly, that Alabama had distribution rights to several beers I wanted to get my hands on for this challenge.  Namely Great Divide and Bells.  So onward we traveled toward the ole Heart of Dixie, the land which birthed Hank Aaron, Jimmy Buffett, Charles Barkley, Bo Jackson, and Hank Williams.

I had read on Beer Advocate that Hopjacks was THE place to go in Mobile for delicious craft and import beer on draft and in bottle.  And so, that became our watering hole for the day.  With the Bama game on, and dark beers in hand, it was a great way to spend a lazy Friday afternoon after Thanksgiving….

BEER # 91

In case you are wondering, Saint Bridget is NOT the hot girl seen here...

but apparently this lass, who is known, according to the Great Divide website, "for the epic miracle of transforming her bathwater into beer for thirsty clerics." All right Bridget!

Great Divide St. Bridget’s Porter: ABV: 5.9%  First up! This beer had a nice burnt caramel color and an inviting nose of a malt shake with milk chocolate.  Add some vanilla and a delicate touch of lavender (Yes, lavender! Nice!) to that and you have a nice easy-going porter to start the drink-fest.

In the pint glass, you also get an agreeable smoky aroma that you don’t get in the Riedel.  This is the FIRST AND ONLY time I have gotten something better out of the pint glass than my trusty dork glass. Hmm.  The body and mouthfeel are pleasant and rounded with an balanced bitterness on the finish that is not strong but present.  Thank you Great Divide!

BEER #90

Rogue Imperial Porter: ABV: 8.2%  I have never seen this one on draft! Yum. Yum. Yum. This is a GOOD beer. One I wish I could drink again, but I have no access to it. If I am ever in Oregon, my beer-lovin’ behind is making my way over to Rogue to stock up.

What an irresistible nose: clove, baking spice, nutmeg, pepper, and dark, dark chocolate.  Like the dessert that I had no room for on Thursday. This is not your average porter.  And thank God, because I am over mediocre offerings, like the Butte Creek.

This was just delicious.  And with a good honest dose of bitterness on the finish (Thank you!), you’re palate wanted to keep drinking.  And so I did.  That one went down in a hurry….Time for some food.  Perfectly cut potatoes fried in duck fat with sea salt and ground pepper anyone?!

BEER # 89

Great Divide Yeti Imperial Stout: ABV: 9.5%  Well done Great Divide.  Intense black-brown color with a dark brown mocha mousse colored head. If you don’t know what mocha mousse looks like, think the color of coffee with just a dabble of milk in there…This sucker is opaque, and coats the glass. Lovely.  I am reminded of that crazy, intense espresso on every corner in Italy.  That stuff will keep you up for days.

Look at that pizza! Can you say YUM?!

In the Riedel, you get dark syrupy and pepper aromas combined with a burst of hoppiness.  There is an essence of orange here, but not like in the grocery store, more like standing in an orange grove, with the green smells of leaves and grass around you.

On the palate, you get that punch of espresso I was expecting, along with tobacco and paper on the finish.  There is a definite, measurable bitterness here, which seems to be a combo of both the hops and the roasted malts.  This is a wonderfully balanced, interesting brew that for me, should be one of THE Imperial Stouts you try if you are setting out to understand the American style.

great label.

BEER #88

Left Hand Milk Stout: ABV: 5.3%  After the success of the Lazy Magnolia Jefferson Stout, I was convinced that there WERE good Milk Stouts out there, and I would give it one more try on my journey.  But admittedly still a bit squeamish, I asked for a taste before I settled in on a whole pint. Whew! It’s good.

If I had to only select one word for this beer, it would be….1 guess.  Yep, creamy.  Subtle black cherry also appears in the aroma.  Ok, brewers and beer lovers who know alot more than me:  what is UP with all the dried and dark fruit aromas in Milk Stouts? The Farsons Lacto was overbearing dried black currant, and every one I have tasted has had some element of dried fruit in it.  Help, this inquiring mind wants to know.  Is it something specifically tied to the use of lactose? Is there a particular, unique yeast used in Milk Stouts?

There is also a nice woody aroma that emerges, and after some discussion, Mike nails it as pecan shell.  I’m serious, it smells EXACTLY like the shell and pith of that glorious nut.  In the pint glass, I make a quizzical face as I suddenly get this strong cologne-type smell.  What is that? Oh, wait, that’s just the douchebag behind me that decided to take a bath with his perfume. Sheesh. So scratch that, no cologne on this beer. This is a good effort by Left Hand.  Fairly easy to drink, but with a weight that makes it difficult to imagine drinking more than one.

BEER #87

This is NOT what the stout was named after...

Bells Kalamazoo Stout: ABV: 6%  And finally, to round out our delicious and decadent beer drinking adventure, the well-known and loved Kalamazoo Stout.  When I first heard the name, I thought why would they name a stout after that little plastic thing kids blow on? Then I realized, it’s Kalamazoo not Kazoo, champ.  Ohhh, that makes more sense.  At any rate, I have been looking forward to trying this one for quite some time.  And believe me, I was not disappointed. I bought a sixer to take back to New Orleans with me. I have some beer folks to share this with.

Me and my delicious licorice stout. Who would have thought?

But I’ll admit, when I first read the label and saw “brewed with licorice”, my heart sank.  I’m sorry all you black and red whip lovers, but I have NEVER liked licorice aroma or flavor.  Not even close.  If it is in anything I’m consuming, drink or food, it stands out like Nixon’s nose, and I am pushing it as far away from me as possible.

So I nervously pour it in the Riedel, and take a timid sniff.  Yep, smells like licorice. Duh.  But here’s where I am SHOCKED.  I like it!  It is not overbearing, but is somehow gentle and perfectly balanced with the other aromas.  Those being liquid dark chocolate, blackstrap molasses and savory, almost meaty aromas.

That molasses follows through on the palate with a swift kick of vanilla.  And as I leisurely took my final sips, I got an aroma and flavor of chocolate mousse.  Like the final bite of a delicious dessert.  Great job Bells.

And as we set out into the dark night, back to the land of jazz, Mardi Gras, and damn fine Creole cooking, we reminisced about our lip-smacking, delectable day of drinking great beers and devouring the yummiest pizza and fries I’ve had in years.  All to the soundtrack of the Grateful Dead, of course…

CHEERS!