Way back in 2009, when we were still a little ankle-biter of a blog, we wrote a post about a French band called Magma that spawned (the band, not the post) an entire genre of hyper-bizarre prog-rock/space-jazz/freak-fusion called Zeuhl. “Next time you hear a bunch of French dudes chanting nonsense lyrics over music that sounds sort of like Pat Metheny on acid,” we wrote, with that casual air of snark that only comes from having no idea what the fuck you’re talking about, “you’re probably listening to a Zeuhl band.”

Well, it’s taken us four years, but we’ve finally a.) admitted that, to this very day, we often have no idea what the fuck we’re talking about and b.) gotten around to writing about another Zeuhl band. Except this bunch is neither French nor, entirely, dudes. They’re from Japan and they’re a coed ensemble by the name of Koenjihyakkei, which translates to something like “The Hundred Sights of Koenji.” Koenji is a neighborhood in Tokyo, but does it really have a hundred sights? Beats me. Like I said, we often have no idea what the fuck we’re talking about.

Here’s what little we do know: Koenjihyakkei (also sometimes transliterated as “Koenji Hyakkei”) was started in the early ’90s by a drummer named Tatsuya Yoshida, whose previous band, Ruins, did a pretty fair approximation of Magma’s original Zeuhl insanity rendered down to just a bass/drums duo. Having apparently exhausted that format, Yoshida expanded his list of collaborators with Koenjihyakkei, adding a rotating cast of musicians to an increasingly epic and noisy take on Magma-esque jazz-prog mayhem. The band’s most recent lineup, seen in the above photo, features a lady who just goes by AH on vocals, Keiko Komori on reeds, Kengo Sakamoto on bass and Taku Yabuki on keys.

We also know that, sadly, the band appears to have been pretty inactive since about 2010 or so. Yoshida has been more focused on various new incarnations of Ruins: Ruins Alone, which is just him with a drum kit and electronics, and Sax Ruins, which is him with (you’ll never guess) a sax player. He’s also got a guitar/bass/drums power trio called Korekyojinn and a growing online photo archive called Stones of the World. Not pictures of international Rolling Stones cover bands—though that would indeed be awesome—but just pictures of interesting rock formations, made by both humans and nature. Worth a look, especially if you’re into stony things. Did I just make a really lame pot joke? Why, yes, yes I did. Thanks for noticing.

Koenjihyakkei’s music is difficult to describe, even for us. Is it Magma by way of Naked City? Boredoms by way of Shibushirazu Orchestra? Japanese show tunes as performed by “something so far off Broadway it’s on the moon”? (We didn’t come up with that last one, but it kinda sounds like something we would’ve written in 2009.) Whatever it is, it’s more overtly jazz-based than Magma or Ruins, but still prone to going off on the sort of crazy tangents that wouldn’t sound out of place in a Mike Patton side project.

We’ll leave you with two videos that should give you a sense of Koenjihyakkei’s full range of musical lunacy. The first is taken from their 2010 DVD Live at Koenji High and really showcases them (especially vocalist AH) as a sort of a jazz quintet from Mars. The oddly jaunty gang vocals at 2:50 are my favorite part. Also the part where she growls like a demon over some serious ’70s-style prog-rock synth runs. I’m not telling you where to find that part; you’ll just have to listen to the whole goddamned thing yourself.

Next: We would be remiss if we didn’t include the track that MVR (Most Valuable Reader) Stuart Johnson sent our way to introduce us to the awesomeness that is Koenjihyakkei. Thanks, Stuart! For a band that owes much of its existence to a single other band (i.e. Magma), Koenjihyakkei are about as original as it gets.

Links:

• Koenjihyakkei on Skin Graft Records (label site)
• Magaibutsu (Tatsuya Yoshida’s website)
• Koenjihyakkei on MySpace

Chavin near Huaraz

There are, apparently, 34 broad categorisations of environments within the world (i.e. desert, jungle, forest, etc.) and by travelling from the coast of Peru over to the Western border it is possible to cross through 20 of these 34 environments. Nowhere is this more obvious than going from the moonlike sand-rock-dirt barrens that surround Lima to the lush green mountains of Huaraz in the wet season. It is so incredibly high that just a walk up the stairs can leave you pitifully rasping for oxygen. Glaciated peaks shine ethereal in the distance, near-vertical mountainsides are turned into reality defying farms and high altitude lakes host red ducks with cyan beaks.

The barrens outside of Lima

Laguna Churup in Huaraz

The town of Huaraz itself is also diverse, there are sheeny tourist restaurants but a five minute walk can end up in a market selling preserved sheep heads and gutted guinea pigs. I am here for the weeklong festival of El Señor de la Soledad. Great numbers of people from local mountain villages come down to the town. Each town has its own costume, music and dance. Many of the costumes involve bright robes, tall feather-plume headbands and face masks. I believe I have read that similar masks elsewhere are (or perhaps originally were) a pastiche of white colonialists. A notable feature of the masks are the blue Western eyes.

A Dancer in Huaraz

The villagers spend much of the day and night marching through the town dancing, whooping, whistling and getting riotously drunk. There is something intense and touching about such a large group of people coming together and expressing themselves with such vivacity and violence, without much that is obvious on the surface by way of politics or even words: just an incredible display that they are alive and kicking. The most marvellous display I saw of this is in the video below. In the middle of a very deprived area with little more than rubble and sewage water for roads this fantastic band were playing and many of the (highly inebriated) Peruvians were dancing around. Bizarrely the Peruvians were so incredibly excited and surprised to see foreigners enjoying this scene and music that you can see the festival’s cameraman in the video filming  -not the band playing the fantastic music- but just me, the foreigner, filming the band myself. Drinks and drunken dances were forced into our hands. Here is the video I took:

It was an incredible day of music, food and celebrations but I was brought back down to reality when my wallet was pickpocketed from me – most probably inside a church of all places. I was very worried because I was 8 hours away from my home in Lima and I had no way of quickly contacting anybody who could easily help. I was incredibly fortunate in this situation. One of the lovely girls I had been with that day kindly gave me money, the hostel Alpes Huaraz (http://www.tripadvisor.com/Hotel_Review-g304039-d1022531-Reviews-Hostal_Alpes_Huaraz-Huaraz_Ancash_Region.html) I was staying in was unbelievably generous and went through the rigmarole of cancelling my debit card for me (beyond my level of Spanish) and even paid for my taxi to the bus home and a fantastically generous Mexican man on the bus home paid for my expensive taxi from the bus stop to my home in Lima. A Chinese girl even brought me a banana and a satsuma when I didn’t have any money for a meal.  If anything the kindness I received from these people far outweighs the irritation of having had my wallet stolen, but I could easily not have been so fortunate.

Astonishing view from Huaraz to Chavin

We saw homes with room-sized mosaic floors with still-discernible images, depicting scenes from Roman mythology. Public baths,  an aqueduct,  the main drag, one wall of the Basilica has been restored.  The triumphal arch still has its Latin inscription. There used to be horses on the top (something like the Brandenburger Tor in Berlin, I understood) but they are long gone. There are many lone, worn pillars, with or without their decorative tops. One of the many remaining pillars is the base for a stork nest.

We saw these guys later on in the square in Marrkech, available for dinner…

Here is part 3 of my experience wondering the streets of Italy’s capital. Part 2 finished with me leaving Il Gesu on track to explore more of what Rome had to offer to a first time traveller such as myself.

I left the church and headed west to seek out Campo de’ Fiori.

Statue of Giordano Bruno, Campo de’ Fiori

The imposing figure of philosopher Giordana Bruno stands as a grim reminder of the bloody history that this space once held. Now it is alive with an authentic air of modern Roman culture, but it was not always so, having spent much of the 17th century as a sight for public executions. A short distance south and I found myself outside of the Palazzo Farnesse.

Palazzo Farnese

Now the home of the French Embassy, I did not spend too long here as you need special permission to take a look around the interior. So off I went to hunt for another hidden gem, the Fontana delle Tartarughe.

Fontana delle Tartarughe

Translated to English as the Turtle Fountain, this is just one of innumerable examples of the sort of thing you can easily miss in a city such as this if you don’t do your home work. I will gladly study guidebooks and maps in order to make the most of my visits to these places so as not to miss out on the smaller delights they have to offer. It was quiet when I arrived here, and I took great pleasure in spending a few moments in it’s presence.

I was in for a surprise next, as I travelled a short distance east. My pocket guide casually described a structure as being said to be “the architectural model for the Colosseum”.

Teatro di Marcello

I think this is another case of pictures not doing justice to the real thing. Perhaps Berlitz did not see fit to spend more time on this structure but I was awestruck that it did not gain nearly as much attention as it’s larger, far more famous twin across the city. There were no throngs of crowds, no bustling street urchins, no noise. Just this incredible structure sitting quietly along a main road being ignored by everybody save a few of us taking the time to admire it.

I expect the goings-on under it’s arches and behind it’s walls are perhaps the reason why it does not garner anywhere near as much interest as the Colosseum, but it is still a vastly impressive building to behold. Not quite as large or imposing, it’s scale  and still-present detail made it a personal favourite spot for my trip, not least because the setting sun added romantically to the experience.

The Church of Santa Maria in Cosmedin

Another short walk away, another excellent church. The evening was setting in by this point, and you can be forgiven for wondering if you have arrived at the right place when you visit certain monuments expecting a crowd, and find yourself alone in their presence. Yet here I was, spending time at another example of what makes Rome such a special place, and doing so without having to battle my way to see it’s wonders. Perhaps, in a city such as Rome, there is simply so much that visitors struggle to know where to begin. It would be all to easy to settle for the more famous draws as there are so many, but I urge anybody who is reading this to make at least as much time to visit the lesser-known locations as you do to visit the one’s that adorn all of the guide book covers and postcards.

I was nearing the end of a long day spent walking all over the city. I decided to end it with a short walk to the Fiume Tevere.

The Tempio di Vesta

Fiume Tevere

I really enjoyed this part of Rome. With all of the ruins and history surrounding me, I had not been expecting the relaxing tranquility that a capital city river can provide. No matter how busy a place you are in, my experience so far has taught me that you can always escape the hustle and bustle, take a short walk and spend time next to a place such as this, and really feel at peace. The evening was truly settling in at this point, and I enjoyed looking at the slowly degrading remains of a ruined bridge long lost in time. It is so easy to imagine this place in such a different light, and this great cities history jumps up to snare your interest no matter which direction you look in. I was truly in love with Rome, and could not wait to continue my adventure after some much needed rest.

Tomorrow I would be throwing myself head-first in to all that the Vatican had to offer. Part 4, coming up soon.

Thank’s for reading!

Continuing my wanderings around Kings Lynn I made for the Tower of Greyfriars Priory which is now surrounded by the very pretty ‘Town Gardens’  they are laid out in what would have been the shape of the Priory.  But as I choose somewhere to sit in the sun, I noticed a small row of ancient arches, I assumed that they were part of the Priory.

Reading the notice board informed me they were not attached to the Priory and had come from a demolished house in Bank Lane. Now that is interesting because they reminded me of the cottages in Priory Lane, this can’t be a house, can it.  So I have spent quite a lot of this evening looking for something that would tell me more, not a lot, but I did find a postcard of the house and a plan of the layout.

Bingo….a wonderful postcard of the very building…one can’t help wishing that the Kings Lynne Trust had been around at the time to have saved this ancient building.  Now to me this is so similar to Priory Lane, even what could be the square gateway in the middle with the bricks or rocks against it.  I can’t find anything to tell me what the building was, but I am thinking ‘Priory”…but then I am only guessing.

I suppose we are lucky that they saved the arches and didn’t use them for a rock garden in the very gardens they are now situated in, but they do look very clinical and it would have been so much nicer to have had them saved in the building they belonged to, what ever it was.

Perhaps evacuating had been a mistake, but Hoshic couldn’t think of any alternative that would have been better. There were no structures in Grendemar designed to stand up to an orbital bombardment, aside from the barracks he was in, and that wasn’t nearly big enough to hold 200,000 troops. And why would there be any such structures? Most of Grendemar had been built in the long years of peace following the Nether War, and the architects who built the city hadn’t even conceived of preparing it for war.

Despite the lack of good alternatives, the evacuation was proving disastrous. Hoshic’s forces had initially attempted to flee using the dropships that had brought them to the surface, but they quickly found those were easily tracked and destroyed by the Midigalans. The same thing went for any land vehicles that they managed to commandeer. The only troops who had successfully made it out of the city so far had done so on foot, so Hoshic had sent out the order to all units to make sure they were avoiding vehicles.

So far, the bombing was limited to inside the Grendemar city limits, but Hoshic was worried that the radius of the target area might be expanded in order to make sure that as many Imperial troops as possible were eliminated. Therefore, he had ordered his troops to get as far into the wilderness as possible. His hope was that the more widely scattered his forces were, the harder it would be for the Midigalans to completely finish them off.

“General, report coming in from Jarzek Company,” said one of his aides. “They’ve successfully made it out of the city and into the Graladon Woods, but they’ve suffered 60 percent casualties.”

“Thank you, Major,” Hoshic replied, wiping his face with a handkerchief. More good news mixed with bad. He knew that he was lucky to have any of his troops escape this slaughter, but he was so tired of death. He hadn’t joined the military to watch comrades and subordinates die. He’d joined up to serve the Empire that he loved, to give back to society and protect the people he loved from whatever threats might be lurking in the shadows. He hadn’t expected to have to fight a war someday. It had been so long since the Nether War that no one remembered what war was like or how to fight one.

He was jolted out of his thoughts by a deafening explosion that shook the building and caused chairs and lamps to fall over. Hoshic himself was knocked off his feet and onto his back.

“Report!” he bellowed as he scrambled to his feet.

“Sir, a bomb just hit the building directly!” yelled a lieutenant frantically.

“We should be fine, though, right?” Hoshic asked. “This building is designed to withstand an orbital bombardment!”

“In theory, sir, but that’s never been tested!” the lieutenant yelled back. Hoshic’s eyes widened as he pondered the implications of that statement. As he pondered, the building shuddered violently again. Everyone in the room was thrown to the floor again, and large cracks appeared in the walls.

“Sir, I think they’re targeting us purposefully!” yelled a major. Hoshic stared at her in horror for a second, and then quickly came to a decision.

“Evacuate!” he yelled as loud as he could. “Get out of here! We can’t trust this place to stay standing!” His words caused a flurry of activity, as all of the officers on his staff rushed to get out of the barracks before the Midigalans destroyed it. Hoshic himself stood up slowly, eyes surveying the room carefully to make sure that everyone was moving as quickly and orderly as possible.

He was determined to be the last person to leave the building. He started stalking through the halls, making sure that the order to evacuate had spread to everyone, and snapping at anyone who was moving too slowly for his liking. Two more blasts hit the building as he roamed, causing more cracks to appear in the walls and more injuries to his personnel.

Then, there was a long pause. For half an hour, nothing more happened. No bombs hit the barracks, and reports were starting to come in that indicated that perhaps the bombing was over. Hoshic was starting to feel hopeful that the worst was over, and that maybe he and the rest of his troops would survive after all.

Hoshic followed the last of his soldiers out of the building and onto the street outside. The scene that greeted him was like a vision from a nightmare. Buildings were broken and toppled, rubble and bodies and blood were strewn everywhere. For a moment, all Hoshic could do was stop and stare, but then he remembered that he wasn’t safe yet. He turned and followed his troops down the street.

It took him a moment to realize that something was wrong. He ran past several soldiers before he became aware that none of them were moving, and all of them were looking up at the sky. He too, stopped, and looked up, and what he saw there made his blood run cold.

It was as if the One himself had opened up the heavens and was preparing to rain down vengeance against the Imperial Army. The sky was glowing with red-orange energy. The Midigalan ships were charging up their main guns for one last blast, to wipe Grendemar from the face of the galaxy. All Hoshic had time to do was fall to his knees and offer up a quick prayer for his soul, and the souls of his troops, before the Midigalan fleet unleashed its fury on the invaders.

To be continued…

It’s been a considerable amount of time since I’ve updated this blog – almost a month, in fact. Over the last month, things have become more difficult for me. I was recently diagnosed with RLS (Restless Leg Syndrome) which has made it very difficult to concentrate. I have been able to do some Japanese during this time, although it has been rather difficult to do so. My doctor and I have been adjusting my medication periodically throughout the last month and we feel that we have almost got it right.

Today, I was able to finish an entire session of Japanese without many problems at all – so, I think I’ll be practicing Japanese regularly again from now. Thank you all for staying followed on the blog, I understand how unmotivating my behavior has been.

What work have I done?

I have a few photos of the work I was able to do before today. However, none of this work is ‘complete‘, so I will not officially call them ‘lessons‘. You are free to look at them below, out of interest.

Japanese Lesson Eight – Hiragana

Today, I followed the regular pattern of Pronunciation Practice, Listening Test, Rote Practice and Recognition (RealKana) Practice. I feel that today’s work was very successful, as I achieved 100% on my Listening Test. This is quite a feat, considering how hard it has been to practice over the last month.

I purchased a pen this month which is made specifically for writing Japanese/Chinese characters (Pentel Brush Pen). This pen is a blessing as well as a curse. On one hand, it’s great – you have a lot more control over what you draw and how you draw it, making Kana and Kanji alike look much nicer. However, you have so much control that the slightest mistake ruins the entire character. I’ve been practicing and I feel I’m just beginning to understand how to control this pen. When you get it right, it’s worth it – either way, it’s better than a bic biro.

Below you can see my writing practice – I now know Hiragana from the A column to the Ha column – I feel my handwriting has improved slightly, although the pen has caused me to make a few more errors, as I get used to it (notice the massive blotches of pure frustration scattered across the pages).

In regards to my Recognition Practice (RealKana), I’ve done well again achieving 212 correct recognitions and 22 incorrect recognitions.

Thank you for staying the blog through this dark spell, I hope to get Hiragana done within the next few weeks – hopefully this will be possible!

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Til next time,

Jeremy

Whitby Abbey mirrored on the roof of my Volkswagen

There I was – snapping away merrily at an old, abandoned, ramshackle edifice…

When who should arrive outside the front door… but Tesco, bloody, Deliver. They get everywhere.

Guess the driver never noticed the windows…

Or the front door…

Must have been using a Sat Nav. Not entirely dependable.  “Unless the householder e-mailed you from beyond the veil, it’s the wrong address, mate.” He didn’t stay long.

P.S I’ve subsequently learned that a little old lady still lives in the only habitable room in the building. It explains the wheelie bin. But could she really be on the Internet?

Archer City is twenty-five miles southwest of Wichita Falls in the center of Archer County, of which it is the seat.  It was named for Branch Tanner Archer, a leading figure in the Texas Revolution and Republic of Texas.  The county was established and Archer City designated county seat by the state legislature in 1858, but the county was not organized until after the removal of the Kiowas and Comanches from the area. The townsite was originally surveyed in 1876 and was intended to lie on the projected paths of three railroad lines—the Fort Worth and Denver, the Houston and Texas Central, and the Red River and Rio Grande.  A local post office opened in 1878, and in about 1879 C. B. Hutto settled nearby and platted the town; he donated land for a town square, a lot for a county jail, and lots for the construction of Protestant churches.  He also donated a “frameless wooden building” to be used as a county courthouse.

Archer County’s first church, the First Baptist Church, was organized in the town in 1880 with eight members meeting in a building intended as a saloon.  The town soon after voted to ban the sale of alcoholic beverages, so the building continued to serve as a church; from 1881 to 1886 it was the first school building.  In 1884 the estimated population of Archer City was 150, and the principal business was county administration. Cotton was the most important shipped product, although the railroad had not arrived yet.

By 1890 the population was an estimated 250, and a weekly newspaper was being published.  The town now had daily mail and a daily stage to Wichita Falls.  In 1892 the post office name, Archer, was changed to match the town’s name.  An ornate stone courthouse had been built, two more churches had been organized, and a brickyard and a hotel had opened.  By 1900 the town had a bank and three livestock dealers, although cotton remained the staple of outside trade.  The first oil well in the county, twelve miles from town, began producing in March 1912.  Although it never produced great amounts it continued in operation at least into the late 1970s.  By 1914 Archer City had two railroads, the Wichita Falls and Southern and the Southwestern, and the population was estimated at 825.  Archer City was incorporated in 1925 and continued to grow as more oil wells were opened nearby. By late 1926 there were seventeen fields with 411 wells within thirteen miles of Archer City.  The largest field by far was Oldham, with 103 wells. Archer City was also a milling and market point for wheat and other grains and had about seventy businesses, including three banks.

By 1930 the town’s population was 1,512, and the county hospital had been built there.  The county’s fiftieth-anniversary celebration had been held in Archer City the year before, a year early in honor of the opening of the county’s first highway, State Highway 79.  By the 1930s researchers from Harvard University were collecting fossils in Archer County.  Two of the best fossil pits are near Archer City, and from one of these came a fossil that was named Archeria in honor of the county.  Archer City continued growing slowly despite the loss of some businesses during World War II.  The population peaked at 2,025 in 1970; the number of businesses had begun falling off in the 1960s.  In Larry McMurtry’s novel The Last Picture Show (1966), which derives its setting from Archer City, the closing of the Royal Theater is a major symbol. McMurtry is a native of Archer County.  In 1986 the town had a post office, forty-nine businesses including a bank, and a population of 1,862. By 2000 the population was 1,848 with eighty-six businesses.

REFERENCES: Monte Lewis, “ARCHER CITY, TX,” Handbook of Texas Online (http://www.tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/hja11), accessed July 21, 2012. Published by the Texas State Historical Association.

A 10 minute taxi ride took us back 2000 years. The baths of Caracalla are just beyond the Coliseum and are well worth the hour or so. Built in 5 years with 9000 labourers it is a huge structure quite well preserved in spite of being mined in the 17th century for its marble facings, pillars and statues. Many of the mosaic floors are still in place and are vivid in colour and design.
What is most impressive though is the size of the building. 2000 people were able to use the baths at one time.

The whole complex was heated by a vast underground network of tunnels where slaves tended fires. The tunnels also stored 200,000 tons of wood, which was nine months supply. The slaves certainly must have thought they were in Hades. It now has some of the marble capitols on display.

Water was brought in by aqueduct which had to be built to accommodate the water required for the baths. This aqueduct was underground and the water was stored in 28 cisterns until it was used.
As with so much of Rome, water was the lifeblood, and when the aqueducts were cut by the barbarians, the baths fell into disuse.

Walking back past the Colosseum, the Forum and then into the Ghetto, we happened onto the Portico d’ Octavia and Teatro di Marcello. The Portico was a huge complex built by Augustus in honor of his sister Octavia. It housed two temples, a meeting hall and a library. The Church of Sant’ Angelo in Pescheria was built right into the ruins. It was so named because it was a fish market during the Middle Ages. The church is currently under renovation but was open.

The Teatro di Marcello was begun by Julius Caesar and completed by Augustus in AD 13. It held 20,000 people and during the Middle Ages was converted to a fortress, and later into a residence by the Savelli, one of Rome’s noble families. It is now used for open air classical music and lyrical concerts.

What a great day of “productive wandering”.

The flattening of one of the largest Mayan temples in Belize for use as road fill is just one of the latest and most startling examples of the degradation of ancient Maya sites, say experts.

The ruins of the Maya civilization, known for its great stone cities that were largely abandoned in 900 A.D., are major tourist draws in many Central American counties. But many are on private land or unguarded, and prone to destruction and theft.

“We have a lot of archaeological sites across the country and we have many archaeologists, but not enough to protect everything,” said José Manuel Ochoa, director of the Maya Cobá ruins near Tulúm in Mexico.

Many of the civilization’s ruins in Mexico are found in the “Riviera Maya,” a longtime provincial backwater that is now one of the fastest-growing regions in Mexico. The region is a magnet for people from downtrodden areas because it offers jobs in the construction and tourism industries.

Ochoa says the laws in Mexico tend to be tougher than in other countries and the National Anthropology and History Institute — which is responsible for excavation work and maintaining Maya sites — is well-regarded.

Threats often come from tourism, he adds, along with opportunist politicians who have tried to turn some sites into concerts venues — such as Chichén Iztá, where Plácido Domingo and Elton John have performed in recent years.

“It’s kind of the style now,” Ochoa said of taking tourist trips to Maya sites.

In Belize, construction crews flattened what was known as Nohmul, or the “Great Mound,” a Maya temple on private land. The ceremonial site dates back more than 2,300 years and is one of Belize’s most important archaeological sites. The crews used the ruin to gather gravel for improving rural roads.

The destruction, reported originally by 7 News Belize, appalled archaeologists whose work to preserve Maya ruins in a region extending from Mexico’s Yucatán Peninsula to Honduras is hampered by ignorance, tourists and lack of oversight.

“It’s a monument of ignorance and, unfortunately, that’s the way it is,” Allan Moore, archaeologist with Belize’s archaeology institute, told 7 News Belize.

The Nohmul site, near Belize’s northern border with Mexico, was one of the largest in the country and an important ceremonial site for the Maya. Some officials attributed its destruction to ignorance or laziness as the construction company looked for cheap fill instead of buying it from a proper source.

Nohmul sat 100 feet high in the middle of a sugar cane field, and lacked the even stone sides frequently seen in reconstructed or better-preserved pyramids. But Moore said there was “absolutely no way” the crew would not know that they were destroying a Maya mound.

He said that with a staff of 16 people, unfortunately his agency cannot monitor all Maya sites in the Central American country of about 350,000 people. Belizean police said they are conducting an investigation and criminal charges are possible.

Tourism of Maya sites has jumped in recent years, much of it driven this past season by erroneous interpretations of the Maya calendar, which turned over in December and supposedly signaled the end of the world — even though the Maya never predicted such an event.

Jesús Pat Chablé, a young hip-hop artist who raps in the Maya language, says young Maya have benefited from tourism by making money off it. But it comes at the expense of remembering their roots, he says.

Many Maya avoid speaking their language to avoid discrimination and “act ashamed of being from (a Maya) pueblo,” he says.

On my wanderings through Kings Lynn and this time heading for St Margaret’s church I came across another gateway.  This gateway and the cottages contain the remains of a Benedictine Priory founded in 1100.  The cottages are called Priory Lane Cottages and were restored by the Kings Lynn Trust in 1970-74 and is a terrace of small cottages in the only remaining wing to the Benedictine Monastery which preceded St Margaret’s Church.  The gateway was opened up in 1974.

In the churchyard of St Margaret’s there is a very good view of the back of the cottages that show echoes of a past building.

Not in finding this place, but in finding out what exactly it was.

I’m usually pretty good about researching until I locate the information I need or want–not so in the case of the history of this old building.

If anyone who comes across this post has some light to shed, please do!

I’d love to learn more about this old service station of Hamilton, Texas.

I don’t have to pretend about my recent visit to Milwaukee to see an old friend, nor our day trip to Chicago.  If ever you’re considering visiting Milwaukee, do it.  I’m a little in love with it. And that’s an opinion formed after suffering rainy, chilly, windy weather during spring(?).

We went to a brewery.  Like you do.  In Milwaukee.

After the brewery, we went to see Gatsby. Because it was raining.  And it was vacation.  And it was Gatsby.  We also went to a tiki bar.  Like you do.  In Milwaukee.

We enjoyed lots of good food at The Noble, Centro Cafe, and the Public Market.  The wine shop owner at the Public Market may or may not have personally recognized Tom.  I keep good company.

Saturday we took a day trip to Chicago.  That required waking up at 6:30 and catching the 8:05 train.  Such adults!  We immediately went to Willis Tower (former Sears Tower, blah blah blah) and stood on those new ledges.  Because we’re daredevils.

Perhaps it was the movie the previous day, but our Saturday turned very Gatsby.  It was extravagant and fun and a little ridiculous.  We brunched at The Gage.  We managed to meet up with a friend of mine who was randomly in town for post brunch beers at Howell’s and Hood.  Then we did an architecture tour.

Then we had an early dinner and cocktails at The Girl and the Goat, which was unbelievably delicious and fun.  And then post-dinner drinks at Maude’s where we met a man, who happened to be from KC and knows a friend of mine, and his wife.  Talking to strangers is good for you.  We eventually meandered our way back to the train.  But don’t worry, once we arrived back in MKE, we met Tom’s friends out.  It was Saturday night, after all.

Sunday we decided to do a simple breakfast at home and then went to the Milwaukee Art Museum for the Color Rush exhibit.

And then I went home.

And here we are.

The highly evolved Chimú civilization emerged in A.D. 900 after the decline of the Moche culture and stretched 1,300 kilometers from Chancay, near present-day Lima, to Tumbes. It was Peru’s largest pre-Inca empire, and its capital was Chan Chan, now reduced to 20 square kilometers (4,940 acres) of eroded adobe. The city was abandoned in the 1470s, when Chan Chan was overrun by the army of Inca general Túpac Yupanqui.

In its heyday, Chan Chan was an elaborately sculpted and painted adobe city with nine-meter-high walls and an intricate complex of ramps, courtyards, passages, terraces, towers, gardens, palaces, and homes for an estimated 30,000–60,000 people. One of the most important archaeological sites in Peru, it was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1986, which has helped protect it somewhat from looting.

At the center of the ruined city are 10 royal compounds, or ciudadelas, built by successive Chimú dynasties, that cover six square kilometers (2.3 square miles). Only the upper strata of Chimú society was allowed to enter these palaces, through a single north entrance that breached massive walls.

The palaces were used during the life of the king and then sealed and converted into a mausoleum upon his death, a custom also followed by the Inca in Cusco. The most often visited of these is Ciudadela Tschudi, which some say has been restored too much, but the signed pathway helps visitors make sense of it all.

From the entrance, the pathway leads into a vast walled plaza, where religious ceremonies were once held. The king sat on a throne near a ramp at the front of the square and was flanked by hundreds of priests and other court attendants, while human sacrifices were made on an altar in the center of the square. The walls are decorated with reliefs of sea otters/squirrels—a fertility symbol passed down from Moche times—and cormorants.

The acoustics of the plaza are stunning: the ocean, more than a kilometer away, roars on a windless day. From the plaza, the circuit continues down a corridor decorated with pelicans and zigzagging fish designs that probably represented the ocean tide and currents. On the opposite wall are diamond-shaped designs of fishing nets, a motif throughout Chan Chan. This passageway leads to a more intimate square with a ceremonial altar (now covered in adobe to preserve it) and U-shaped audience chamber.

One of the more surprising sights of Tschudi, given the desert surroundings, is a pool with a marsh reed at one end that was probably once a pleasure garden for Chimú royalty and a place for worshipping the moon. Unlike the Inca, the Chimú apparently valued the moon over the sun because it comes out during both day and night and controls the oceans. It was here that El Niño rains in 1983 uncovered two adolescent sacrifice victims, one with a mask of gold and another with a collar of jungle seeds used in shamanic rituals.

At the back of the palace complex is the royal tomb surrounded by niches where human sacrifices were probably placed. Most of Chan Chan’s tombs, once laden with gold and silver objects, were ransacked as early as Inca times, according to colonial documents.

http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/366

http://www.moon.com/destinations/peru/trujillo-and-the-north-coast/trujillo/sights/chan-chan

A lot of the ruins have violent, or politically antagonistic, histories. And yet, sitting in the remnants of an old abbey, or within the walls of a once-upon-a-time castle, or crumbled remnants of a no-longer-mighty Roman fort, I can find peace.

Mother Nature reclaims old floors, as stone walls are softened by the wind and rain and sun of centuries.  Trees sprout from the walls themselves, flowers make their homes where once was mortar.  Birds nest in old arrow-slots.

You can feel the wind in your face, smell the sea breezes, taste the pollen drifting through the air.

With ruins, there are no ropes to hold you back from displays, no protective blue plastic needed over your shoes.  You can touch a wall that may have been touched by a thousand, a hundred thousand, people before you.  You’re part of something.

And, of course, ruins link you to the people who were there before – not what they had, how they decorated or how much money they spent, but to their existence.  I’m looking at what has gone, what has changed, been lost – and what lives on.

But ruins aren’t just old stones, old tiles.  They are full of stories, waiting to be told.  You can hear the whispers of a Roman Legionary, pining for his family and the scenery of his youth.  You can see the monks as they scratch words onto vellum, watch the ink sink in like a tattoo.  You can picture a great lady of the court slipping from her lover’s room in the darkness of the night.  You can stand with the Victorian gentlemen, digging up villas as they ruminated on the possible meanings of mosaics.  You can imagine the child looking at the walls and dreaming she is a princess in a castle, with a beautiful pink dress and a crown made of gold blossoms.  You can hear the Latin words of prayer on the air.

There is a poem I love that I came across on my Anglo-Saxon course which explores this. It’s called The Ruin – you can find what survives of it here in both Old English and modern English, as well as a little background.  I find it thrilling to think that we are linked to humans across time and space just by our sense of wonder and fascination – and that in time, people will look on places I know and wonder about the people who were there.

And for those who are interested, here are a few ruins that have both brought me peace and inspired me to write – please feel free to share your own.

Richborough Roman Fort

Rievaulx Abbey

Kenilworth Castle

Happy writing,

EJ

B4Peace Central

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