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It retains the kitchen, stables, furnishings and even wallpaper from the 1830s. It also retains quite a few misconceptions. Like the idea, repeated several times in the audio tour, that the house gives us a glimpse of "how the people of Charleston lived in the nineteenth century." Sort of the way future historians will proclaim Bill Gates' house to be a reminder of life in the twentieth century.</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>B</strong> is for Battery and White Point Park where a massive statue pays tribute to the racist slave owners who committed treason against the United States. Or, maybe I misread the sign.</p> -</li> -</ul> -<p><break></break></p> -<ul> -<li> -<p><strong>C</strong> is for the Circular Congregational Church graveyard, which has some of the oldest graves in Charleston, many of them adorned with winged skulls (see below). I mean come on, this is luxagraf, of course I went to the graveyard. <amp-img alt="Circular Congregational Church graveyard, Charleston, SC" height="441" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/charleston-circulargraves.jpg" width="660"></amp-img></p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>D</strong> is for Doh! Imagine you wanted to steal a sailboat. You creep around the docks at night looking for open cabins. You find one. Score. You sail out of Charleston harbor headed south. The only problem is you just stole one of the most recognizable sailboats in the northern hemisphere. Doh. Here's <a href="http://www.thehulltruth.com/boating-forum/5981-57-foot-sailing-yacht-stolen-charleston.html">the story of the initial heist</a>. Alas Charleston's local paper doesn't understand URLs and so the story of the <a href="http://archives.postandcourier.com/archive/arch04/0104/arc01301561276.shtml">the recovery</a> and <a href="http://archives.postandcourier.com/archive/arch04/0404/arc04301708081.shtml">arrests</a> have disappeared (dead links left as a reminder of how fragile the web is).</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>E</strong> is for expensive. Charleston is. And yet, from what I've ever been able to tell, there is no real economy here, so where does the money come from? Is everyone here either a lawyer or old money? Still can't figure it out. What do you people <em>do</em> all day?</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>F</strong> is for Fast and French, a kind of French lunch-counter style restaurant that could have been pulled straight out of a Godard film. In fact, the only thing missing was Anna Karina<sup id="fnref:1"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:1" rel="footnote">1</a></sup>. Not, in my experience, fast, but definitely as French as I've seen outside of Paris. Awesome homemade pate. I also love that it's called Fast and French because apparently no one in Charleston can pronounce the actual name -- Gaulart & Maliclet.</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>G</strong> is for the ghetto, where my wife used to live, brass knuckles in her dresser drawer. Do not go to Columbus Street. </p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>H</strong> is for is for the Club Habana cigar bar, which looks like a set from Mad Men -- dark wood paneling, smoke-soaked leather chairs and sofas, dim lighting that creates plenty of dark corners and the best Scotch selection in Charleston. </p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>I</strong> is for indulgent. Like say, eating four dozen oysters in a single setting. Yes. We did. And it was awesome.</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>J</strong> is for just didn't make it. Again. I've been to Charleston five times now and I've still never made the trip out to Fort Sumter. One day.</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>K</strong> is for King Street. Sure, half of it is full of Apple Stores, Banana Republics and the like, but further down it still manages to retain some, if slightly gentrified, charm. And you can pick up a seersucker suit so you too can look like an idiot.</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>L</strong> is for the Library Society, one of the oldest libraries on the country. Created in 1748, the <a href="http://www.charlestonlibrarysociety.org/">Charleston Library Society</a> paved the way for the founding of the College of Charleston in 1770 and provided the core collection of natural history artifacts for the first museum in America -- the Charleston Museum, founded in 1773. </p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>M</strong> is for mansions, Charleston has a lot of them. Ridiculous, huge mansions that could house multiple families (and did back in the dark days of slavery).</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>N</strong> is for nap. Naps are good when you're traveling. They remind you that you don't <em>have</em> to do anything. Take one.</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>O</strong> is for Oyster Bar, specifically Pearlz, which, despite drawing a high percentage of tourists, has the best oysters in town. And the oyster-buyer knew his stuff. When I asked him if he had read The Big Oyster he responded, without a second's hesitation, "history on the half shell."</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>P</strong> is for People Wearing Fur. For some reason there were a lot of them in Charleston. Including a man wearing a fluffy fur shawl that looked like an ermine had stuck its paw in a light socket and wrapped itself around his neck. Awful, but not terribly surprising for a place that gave us the seersucker and other insults to fashion.</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><amp-img alt="Quiet Streets, Charleston, SC" height="320" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/charleston-quietstreets.jpg" width="214"></amp-img><strong>Q</strong> is for quiet, Charleston has a lot of it. Just head down to the Battery area, walk through the park and starting walking down the side streets. Take one of the many alleys and walkways that weave between the massive, stately houses. Get lost. It doesn't take much to find a quiet place of your own.</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>R</strong> is for restoration, let's have less of it. The Aiken Rhett house was by far the coolest old building I've seen in the south simply because it has not been restored. It's been shored up here and there, but for the most part the decay of it is the appeal of it. The peeling wallpaper, the threadbare furniture, the dusty paintings, the rotting timbers. The termites. The worms. The wood fungi. Decay always wins in the end. </p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>S</strong> is for seersucker suit. Didn't see any this time; thank god for cold weather.</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>T</strong> is for highway 26, the craziest road I've driven in the U.S. People drive the 26 fast, stupid fast and the minute you move into the slow lane you're stuck there forever. It's insane.</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>U</strong> is for the Unitarian Church Garden, a beautiful, but little-visited cemetery/garden that's overgrown with wildflowers, trees and vines. It's also reportedly haunted by Annabel Lee, purportedly the the subject of Edgar Allen Poe's poem of the same name. </p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>V</strong> is for very cold, something I don't normally associate with Charleston, but there was snow on the ground all the way into South Carolina. Not quite to Charleston, but pretty close.</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>W</strong> is for the winged skulls, which adorn many of the oldest gravestones in the Circular Church graveyard. The skulls, which symbolize the soul's ascension into heaven, recall a time when death was somehow more familiar, less threatening perhaps -- look mum, skulls with wings <amp-img alt="Circular Congregational Church graveyard, Charleston, SC" height="393" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/charleston-wingedgraves.jpg" width="660"></amp-img>.</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>X</strong> is for xylophone. Because there aren't many words that start with x. Every plan has a flaw.</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>Y</strong> is for Yacht. I want one. Some of the nicest boats I've ever seen are in the Charleston harbor. If you have any interest in boats, it's worth walking around the docks for a bit. Who knows, you might even be able to hitch a ride out of Charleston harbor if you know what you're doing. Just don't steal anything.</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>Z</strong> is for zero, the number of times I have been to the Bubba Shrimp Company restaurant. Fuck you Hollywood.</p> -</li> -</ul> -<div class="footnote"> -<hr/> -<ol> -<li id="fn:1"> -<p>Technically Anna Karina was Danish, but I always think of her as French since she mainly appeared in French films. <a class="footnote-backref" href="#fnref:1" rev="footnote" title="Jump back to footnote 1 in the text">↩</a></p> -</li> -</ol> -</div> - </div> - </article> -</main> - -</body> -</html> diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/01/charleston-a-z.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/01/charleston-a-z.html deleted file mode 100644 index d602725..0000000 --- a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/01/charleston-a-z.html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,419 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html -class="detail single" dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> - -<head> - <title>Charleston A-Z - by Scott Gilbertson</title> - <meta charset="utf-8"> - <meta http-equiv="x-ua-compatible" content="ie=edge"> - <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> - <meta name="description" - content="An alphabetical guide to Charleston, South Carolina. 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It retains the kitchen, stables, furnishings and even wallpaper from the 1830s. It also retains quite a few misconceptions. Like the idea, repeated several times in the audio tour, that the house gives us a glimpse of “how the people of Charleston lived in the nineteenth century.” Sort of the way future historians will proclaim Bill Gates’ house to be a reminder of life in the twentieth century.</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>B</strong> is for Battery and White Point Park where a massive statue pays tribute to the racist slave owners who committed treason against the United States. Or, maybe I misread the sign.</p> -</li> -</ul> -<p><break></p> -<ul> -<li> -<p><strong>C</strong> is for the Circular Congregational Church graveyard, which has some of the oldest graves in Charleston, many of them adorned with winged skulls (see below). I mean come on, this is luxagraf, of course I went to the graveyard. <img alt="Circular Congregational Church graveyard, Charleston, SC" class="picfull" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/charleston-circulargraves.jpg"/></p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>D</strong> is for Doh! Imagine you wanted to steal a sailboat. You creep around the docks at night looking for open cabins. You find one. Score. You sail out of Charleston harbor headed south. The only problem is you just stole one of the most recognizable sailboats in the northern hemisphere. Doh. Here’s <a href="http://www.thehulltruth.com/boating-forum/5981-57-foot-sailing-yacht-stolen-charleston.html">the story of the initial heist</a>. Alas Charleston’s local paper doesn’t understand URLs and so the story of the <a href="http://archives.postandcourier.com/archive/arch04/0104/arc01301561276.shtml">the recovery</a> and <a href="http://archives.postandcourier.com/archive/arch04/0404/arc04301708081.shtml">arrests</a> have disappeared (dead links left as a reminder of how fragile the web is).</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>E</strong> is for expensive. Charleston is. And yet, from what I’ve ever been able to tell, there is no real economy here, so where does the money come from? Is everyone here either a lawyer or old money? Still can’t figure it out. What do you people <em>do</em> all day?</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>F</strong> is for Fast and French, a kind of French lunch-counter style restaurant that could have been pulled straight out of a Godard film. In fact, the only thing missing was Anna Karina<sup id="fnref:1"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:1" rel="footnote">1</a></sup>. Not, in my experience, fast, but definitely as French as I’ve seen outside of Paris. Awesome homemade pate. I also love that it’s called Fast and French because apparently no one in Charleston can pronounce the actual name — Gaulart & Maliclet.</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>G</strong> is for the ghetto, where my wife used to live, brass knuckles in her dresser drawer. Do not go to Columbus Street. </p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>H</strong> is for is for the Club Habana cigar bar, which looks like a set from Mad Men — dark wood paneling, smoke-soaked leather chairs and sofas, dim lighting that creates plenty of dark corners and the best Scotch selection in Charleston. </p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>I</strong> is for indulgent. Like say, eating four dozen oysters in a single setting. Yes. We did. And it was awesome.</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>J</strong> is for just didn’t make it. Again. I’ve been to Charleston five times now and I’ve still never made the trip out to Fort Sumter. One day.</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>K</strong> is for King Street. Sure, half of it is full of Apple Stores, Banana Republics and the like, but further down it still manages to retain some, if slightly gentrified, charm. And you can pick up a seersucker suit so you too can look like an idiot.</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>L</strong> is for the Library Society, one of the oldest libraries on the country. Created in 1748, the <a href="http://www.charlestonlibrarysociety.org/">Charleston Library Society</a> paved the way for the founding of the College of Charleston in 1770 and provided the core collection of natural history artifacts for the first museum in America — the Charleston Museum, founded in 1773. </p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>M</strong> is for mansions, Charleston has a lot of them. Ridiculous, huge mansions that could house multiple families (and did back in the dark days of slavery).</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>N</strong> is for nap. Naps are good when you’re traveling. They remind you that you don’t <em>have</em> to do anything. Take one.</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>O</strong> is for Oyster Bar, specifically Pearlz, which, despite drawing a high percentage of tourists, has the best oysters in town. And the oyster-buyer knew his stuff. When I asked him if he had read The Big Oyster he responded, without a second’s hesitation, “history on the half shell.”</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>P</strong> is for People Wearing Fur. For some reason there were a lot of them in Charleston. Including a man wearing a fluffy fur shawl that looked like an ermine had stuck its paw in a light socket and wrapped itself around his neck. Awful, but not terribly surprising for a place that gave us the seersucker and other insults to fashion.</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><img alt="Quiet Streets, Charleston, SC" class="postpic" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/charleston-quietstreets.jpg"/><strong>Q</strong> is for quiet, Charleston has a lot of it. Just head down to the Battery area, walk through the park and starting walking down the side streets. Take one of the many alleys and walkways that weave between the massive, stately houses. Get lost. It doesn’t take much to find a quiet place of your own.</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>R</strong> is for restoration, let’s have less of it. The Aiken Rhett house was by far the coolest old building I’ve seen in the south simply because it has not been restored. It’s been shored up here and there, but for the most part the decay of it is the appeal of it. The peeling wallpaper, the threadbare furniture, the dusty paintings, the rotting timbers. The termites. The worms. The wood fungi. Decay always wins in the end. </p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>S</strong> is for seersucker suit. Didn’t see any this time; thank god for cold weather.</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>T</strong> is for highway 26, the craziest road I’ve driven in the U.S. People drive the 26 fast, stupid fast and the minute you move into the slow lane you’re stuck there forever. It’s insane.</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>U</strong> is for the Unitarian Church Garden, a beautiful, but little-visited cemetery/garden that’s overgrown with wildflowers, trees and vines. It’s also reportedly haunted by Annabel Lee, purportedly the the subject of Edgar Allen Poe’s poem of the same name. </p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>V</strong> is for very cold, something I don’t normally associate with Charleston, but there was snow on the ground all the way into South Carolina. Not quite to Charleston, but pretty close.</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>W</strong> is for the winged skulls, which adorn many of the oldest gravestones in the Circular Church graveyard. The skulls, which symbolize the soul’s ascension into heaven, recall a time when death was somehow more familiar, less threatening perhaps — look mum, skulls with wings <img alt="Circular Congregational Church graveyard, Charleston, SC" class="picfull" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/charleston-wingedgraves.jpg"/>.</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>X</strong> is for xylophone. Because there aren’t many words that start with x. Every plan has a flaw.</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>Y</strong> is for Yacht. I want one. Some of the nicest boats I’ve ever seen are in the Charleston harbor. If you have any interest in boats, it’s worth walking around the docks for a bit. Who knows, you might even be able to hitch a ride out of Charleston harbor if you know what you’re doing. Just don’t steal anything.</p> -</li> -<li> -<p><strong>Z</strong> is for zero, the number of times I have been to the Bubba Shrimp Company restaurant. Fuck you Hollywood.</p> -</li> -</ul> -<div class="footnote"> -<hr> -<ol> -<li id="fn:1"> -<p>Technically Anna Karina was Danish, but I always think of her as French since she mainly appeared in French films. <a class="footnote-backref" href="#fnref:1" rev="footnote" title="Jump back to footnote 1 in the text">↩</a></p> -</li> -</ol> -</div> - </div> - - </article> - - - <div class="nav-wrapper"> - <nav id="page-navigation" class="page-border-top"> - <ul> - <li id="prev"><span class="bl">Previous:</span> - <a href="/jrnl/2010/08/dinosaur-national-monument-part-two-down-river" rel="prev" title=" Dinosaur National Monument, Part Two: Down the River">Dinosaur National Monument, Part Two: Down the River</a> - </li> - <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/01/world-outside" rel="next" title=" The World Outside">The World Outside</a> - </li> - </ul> - </nav> - </div> - - - - - - -<div class="comment--form--wrapper "> - -<div class="comment--form--header"> - <p class="hed">Thoughts?</p> - <p class="subhed">Please leave a reply:</p> -</div> -<form action="/comments/post/" method="post" class="comment--form"> - -<input type="hidden" name="rder" value="" /> - - - <input type="hidden" name="content_type" value="jrnl.entry" id="id_content_type"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="object_pk" value="115" id="id_object_pk"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833463" id="id_timestamp"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="c41a467588bbeb9ca172ab869724b407ab30ad0d" id="id_security_hash"> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_name">Name:</label> - <input type="text" name="name" maxlength="50" required id="id_name"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_email">Email address:</label> - <input type="email" name="email" required id="id_email"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_url">URL:</label> - <input type="url" name="url" id="id_url"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_comment">Comment:</label> - <div class="textarea-rounded"><textarea name="comment" cols="40" rows="10" maxlength="3000" required id="id_comment"> -</textarea></div> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset style="display:none;"> - <label for="id_honeypot">If you enter anything in this field your comment will be treated as spam:</label> - <input type="text" name="honeypot" id="id_honeypot"> - </fieldset> - - - <div class="submit"> - <input type="submit" name="post" class="submit-post btn" value="Post" /> - <input type="submit" name="preview" class="submit-preview btn" value="Preview" /> - </div> -</form> -<p style="font-size: 95%;"><strong>All comments are moderated</strong>, so you won’t see it right away. And please remember Kurt Vonnegut's rule: “god damn it, you’ve got to be kind.” You can use Markdown or HTML to format your comments. The allowed tags are <code><b>, <i>, <em>, <strong>, <a></code>. To create a new paragraph hit return twice. </p> - - -</div> - -</main> - - - - <footer class="bl"> - <ul class="footer-nav"> - <li><a href="/blogroll" title="Sites that inspire us">Blogroll</a></li> - <li><a href="/contact/" title="contact luxagraf">Contact</a></li> - <li>Follow Along: - <ul> - <li><a href="/jrnl/feed.xml" title="RSS feed">RSS</a></li> - <li><a href="/newsletter/" title="Luxagraf Email Updates">Email</a></li> - <li><a href="https://www.instagram.com/luxagraf" rel="me" title="luxagraf on Instagram">Instagram</a></li> - </ul> - </ul> - <div class="support">Support luxagraf: - <div class="donate-btn"> - <form action="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr" method="post" target="_top"> - <input type="hidden" name="cmd" value="_s-xclick"> - <input type="hidden" name="hosted_button_id" value="HYJFZQSBGJ8QQ"> - <input type="submit" name="submit" title="Donate to luxagraf via PayPal"> - </form> - </div> - <div class="donate-btn"> - <a class="liberapay-btn" href="https://liberapay.com/luxagraf/donate"><span>Donate</span></a> - </div> - </div> - <p id="license"> - © 2003-2020 - <span class="h-card"><a class="p-name u-url" href="https://luxagraf.net/">Scott Gilbertson</a><data class="p-nickname" value="luxagraf"></data><data class="p-locality" value="Athens"></data><data class="p-region" value="Georgia"></data><data class="p-country-name" value="United States"></data></span>. - </p> - </footer> - </div> - -<script> -document.addEventListener("DOMContentLoaded", function(event) { - var leaflet = document.createElement('script'); - leaflet.src = "/media/js/leaflet-master/leaflet-mod.js"; - document.body.appendChild(leaflet); - var lightbox = document.createElement('script'); - lightbox.src = "/media/js/lightbox.js"; - document.body.appendChild(lightbox); - leaflet.onload = function(){ - var detail = document.createElement('script'); - detail.src = "/media/js/detail.min.js"; - document.body.appendChild(detail); - - detail.onload = function(){ - createMap(); - var open = false; - } - - } - - lightbox.onload = function() { - var opts= { - //nextOnClick: false, - captions: true, - onload: function(){ - var im = document.getElementById("jslghtbx-contentwrapper"); - var link = im.appendChild(document.createElement('a')) - link.href = im.firstChild.src; - link.innerHTML= "open "; - link.target = "_blank"; - link.setAttribute('class', 'p-link'); - im.appendChild(link); - } - }; - var lightbox = new Lightbox(); - lightbox.load(opts); - } - - - - - - -}); -</script> - -<script> -<!-- -// Register our service-worker -//if (navigator.serviceWorker) { -// window.addEventListener('load', function() { -// if (navigator.serviceWorker.controller) { -// navigator.serviceWorker.controller.postMessage({'command': 'trimCaches'}); -// } else { -// navigator.serviceWorker.register('/serviceworker.js', { -// scope: '/' -// }); -// } -// }); -//} -//--> - -<!-- Piwik --> -var _paq = _paq || []; -_paq.push(["disableCookies"]); -_paq.push(['trackPageView']); -_paq.push(['enableLinkTracking']); -(function() { - var u="https://stats.luxagraf.net/"; - _paq.push(['setTrackerUrl', u+'piwik.php']); - _paq.push(['setSiteId', 1]); - var d=document, g=d.createElement('script'), s=d.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; - g.type='text/javascript'; g.async=true; g.defer=true; g.src=u+'piwik.js'; s.parentNode.insertBefore(g,s); - })(); -<!-- End Piwik Code --> -</script> -<noscript><p><img src="//stats.luxagraf.net/piwik.php?idsite=1" style="border:0;" alt="" /></p></noscript> -</body> -</html> diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/01/charleston-a-z.txt b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/01/charleston-a-z.txt deleted file mode 100644 index aa7d6a7..0000000 --- a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/01/charleston-a-z.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,72 +0,0 @@ -Charleston A-Z -============== - - by Scott Gilbertson - </jrnl/2011/01/charleston-a-z> - Tuesday, 18 January 2011 - -<img src="[[base_url]]2011/charleston-aiken-rhett.jpg" alt="Aiken Rhett House, Charleston, SC" class="picfull" />
-
-* **A** is for the Aiken Rhett house, one of the few surviving antebellum houses in Charleston. It retains the kitchen, stables, furnishings and even wallpaper from the 1830s. It also retains quite a few misconceptions. Like the idea, repeated several times in the audio tour, that the house gives us a glimpse of "how the people of Charleston lived in the nineteenth century." Sort of the way future historians will proclaim Bill Gates' house to be a reminder of life in the twentieth century.
-
-* **B** is for Battery and White Point Park where a massive statue pays tribute to the racist slave owners who committed treason against the United States. Or, maybe I misread the sign.
-
-<break>
-
-* **C** is for the Circular Congregational Church graveyard, which has some of the oldest graves in Charleston, many of them adorned with winged skulls (see below). I mean come on, this is luxagraf, of course I went to the graveyard. <img src="[[base_url]]2011/charleston-circulargraves.jpg" alt="Circular Congregational Church graveyard, Charleston, SC" class="picfull" />
-
-
-* **D** is for Doh! Imagine you wanted to steal a sailboat. You creep around the docks at night looking for open cabins. You find one. Score. You sail out of Charleston harbor headed south. The only problem is you just stole one of the most recognizable sailboats in the northern hemisphere. Doh. Here's [the story of the initial heist][1]. Alas Charleston's local paper doesn't understand URLs and so the story of the [the recovery][2] and [arrests][3] have disappeared (dead links left as a reminder of how fragile the web is).
-
-[1]: http://www.thehulltruth.com/boating-forum/5981-57-foot-sailing-yacht-stolen-charleston.html
-[2]: http://archives.postandcourier.com/archive/arch04/0104/arc01301561276.shtml
-[3]: http://archives.postandcourier.com/archive/arch04/0404/arc04301708081.shtml
-
-* **E** is for expensive. Charleston is. And yet, from what I've ever been able to tell, there is no real economy here, so where does the money come from? Is everyone here either a lawyer or old money? Still can't figure it out. What do you people *do* all day?
-
-* **F** is for Fast and French, a kind of French lunch-counter style restaurant that could have been pulled straight out of a Godard film. In fact, the only thing missing was Anna Karina[^1]. Not, in my experience, fast, but definitely as French as I've seen outside of Paris. Awesome homemade pate. I also love that it's called Fast and French because apparently no one in Charleston can pronounce the actual name -- Gaulart & Maliclet.
-
-* **G** is for the ghetto, where my wife used to live, brass knuckles in her dresser drawer. Do not go to Columbus Street.
-
-* **H** is for is for the Club Habana cigar bar, which looks like a set from Mad Men -- dark wood paneling, smoke-soaked leather chairs and sofas, dim lighting that creates plenty of dark corners and the best Scotch selection in Charleston.
-
-* **I** is for indulgent. Like say, eating four dozen oysters in a single setting. Yes. We did. And it was awesome.
-
-* **J** is for just didn't make it. Again. I've been to Charleston five times now and I've still never made the trip out to Fort Sumter. One day.
-
-* **K** is for King Street. Sure, half of it is full of Apple Stores, Banana Republics and the like, but further down it still manages to retain some, if slightly gentrified, charm. And you can pick up a seersucker suit so you too can look like an idiot.
-
-* **L** is for the Library Society, one of the oldest libraries on the country. Created in 1748, the [Charleston Library Society][5] paved the way for the founding of the College of Charleston in 1770 and provided the core collection of natural history artifacts for the first museum in America -- the Charleston Museum, founded in 1773.
-
-[5]: http://www.charlestonlibrarysociety.org/
-
-* **M** is for mansions, Charleston has a lot of them. Ridiculous, huge mansions that could house multiple families (and did back in the dark days of slavery).
-
-* **N** is for nap. Naps are good when you're traveling. They remind you that you don't *have* to do anything. Take one.
-
-* **O** is for Oyster Bar, specifically Pearlz, which, despite drawing a high percentage of tourists, has the best oysters in town. And the oyster-buyer knew his stuff. When I asked him if he had read The Big Oyster he responded, without a second's hesitation, "history on the half shell."
-
-* **P** is for People Wearing Fur. For some reason there were a lot of them in Charleston. Including a man wearing a fluffy fur shawl that looked like an ermine had stuck its paw in a light socket and wrapped itself around his neck. Awful, but not terribly surprising for a place that gave us the seersucker and other insults to fashion.
-
-* <img src="[[base_url]]2011/charleston-quietstreets.jpg" alt="Quiet Streets, Charleston, SC" class="postpic" />**Q** is for quiet, Charleston has a lot of it. Just head down to the Battery area, walk through the park and starting walking down the side streets. Take one of the many alleys and walkways that weave between the massive, stately houses. Get lost. It doesn't take much to find a quiet place of your own.
-
-* **R** is for restoration, let's have less of it. The Aiken Rhett house was by far the coolest old building I've seen in the south simply because it has not been restored. It's been shored up here and there, but for the most part the decay of it is the appeal of it. The peeling wallpaper, the threadbare furniture, the dusty paintings, the rotting timbers. The termites. The worms. The wood fungi. Decay always wins in the end.
-
-* **S** is for seersucker suit. Didn't see any this time; thank god for cold weather.
-
-* **T** is for highway 26, the craziest road I've driven in the U.S. People drive the 26 fast, stupid fast and the minute you move into the slow lane you're stuck there forever. It's insane.
-
-* **U** is for the Unitarian Church Garden, a beautiful, but little-visited cemetery/garden that's overgrown with wildflowers, trees and vines. It's also reportedly haunted by Annabel Lee, purportedly the the subject of Edgar Allen Poe's poem of the same name.
-
-* **V** is for very cold, something I don't normally associate with Charleston, but there was snow on the ground all the way into South Carolina. Not quite to Charleston, but pretty close.
-
-* **W** is for the winged skulls, which adorn many of the oldest gravestones in the Circular Church graveyard. The skulls, which symbolize the soul's ascension into heaven, recall a time when death was somehow more familiar, less threatening perhaps -- look mum, skulls with wings <img src="[[base_url]]2011/charleston-wingedgraves.jpg" alt="Circular Congregational Church graveyard, Charleston, SC" class="picfull" />.
-
-* **X** is for xylophone. Because there aren't many words that start with x. Every plan has a flaw.
-
-* **Y** is for Yacht. I want one. Some of the nicest boats I've ever seen are in the Charleston harbor. If you have any interest in boats, it's worth walking around the docks for a bit. Who knows, you might even be able to hitch a ride out of Charleston harbor if you know what you're doing. Just don't steal anything.
-
-* **Z** is for zero, the number of times I have been to the Bubba Shrimp Company restaurant. Fuck you Hollywood.
-
-
-[^1]: Technically Anna Karina was Danish, but I always think of her as French since she mainly appeared in French films. diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/01/index.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/01/index.html deleted file mode 100644 index d0d08a9..0000000 --- a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/01/index.html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,107 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> - -<head> - <title>Luxagraf - Topografical Writings: Archive</title> - <meta charset="utf-8"> - <meta http-equiv="x-ua-compatible" content="ie=edge"> - <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> - <meta name="description" - content="Luxagraf: recording journeys around the world and just next door."> - <meta name="author" content="Scott Gilbertson"> - <!--[if IE]> - <script src="/js/html5css3ie.min.js"></script> - <![endif]--> - <link rel="alternate" - type="application/rss+xml" - title="Luxagraf RSS feed" - href="https://luxagraf.net/rss/"> - <link rel="stylesheet" - href="/media/screenv8.css" - media="screen"> - <!--[if IE]> - <link rel="stylesheet" - href="/media/css/ie.css" - media="screen"> - <![endif]--> - <link rel="shortcut icon" href="favicon.ico" type="image/x-icon"> - <link rel="manifest" href="manifest.json"> - <meta property="fb:pages" content="900822029969349" /> - -</head> -<body id="archive"> - <div class="wrapper" id="wrapper"> - <div class="header-wrapper"> - <header role="banner"> - <h1><a id="logo" href="/" title="home">Luxagraf</a></h1> - <h2>Walk Slowly</h2> - </header> - <nav role="navigation" class="bl"> - <ul> - <li id="laverdad"><a href="/jrnl/" title="What we've been up to lately">Journal</a></li> - <!--<li id="nota"><a href="/field-notes/" title="Quick notes and images from the road">Notes</a></li> - <li id="fotos"><a href="/photos/" title="Photos from travels around the world">Photos</a></li>i--> - <li id="maps"><a href="/map" title="Maps">Map</a></li> - <li id="about"><a href="/about" title="About Luxagraf">About</a></li> - <li id="etc" class="last"><a href="/projects/" title="the less visible portions of the iceberg">More</a></li> - </ul> - </nav> - </div> - <ul class="bl" id="breadcrumbs" itemscope itemtype="http://data-vocabulary.org/Breadcrumb"> - <li><a href="/" title="luxagraf homepage" itemprop="url"><span itemprop="title">Home</span></a> → </li> - <li><a href="/jrnl/" title="See all Journal Entries" itemprop="url"><span itemprop="title">Journal</span></a> →</li> - <li><a href="/jrnl/2011/">2011</a> →</li> - <li>January</li> - </ul> - <main role="main" id="writing-archive" class="archive"> - <h1> Archive: January 2011</h1> - <ul class="date-archive"> - <li class="arc-item"><a href="/jrnl/2011/01/world-outside" title="The World Outside">The World Outside</a> - <time datetime="2011-01-26T11:56:00-05:00">Jan 26, 2011</time> - </li> - <li class="arc-item"><a href="/jrnl/2011/01/charleston-a-z" title="Charleston A-Z">Charleston A-Z</a> - <time datetime="2011-01-18T15:29:00-05:00">Jan 18, 2011</time> - </li> - </ul> - - - - <footer role="contentinfo"> - <nav class="bl"> - <ul> - <li><a href="/blogroll" title="Sites that inspire us">Blogroll</a></li> - <li><a href="/jrnl/feed.xml" title="RSS feed">Subscribe</a></li> - <li><a href="/contact/" title="contact luxagraf">Contact</a></li> - <li><a href="https://twitter.com/luxagraf" rel="me" title="follow luxagraf on Twitter">Twitter</a></li> - <li><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/luxagraf" rel="me" title="luxagraf on Flickr">Flickr</a></li> - <li><a href="https://www.facebook.com/luxagraf" rel="me" title="luxagraf on Facebook">Facebook</a></li> - <li><a href="https://www.instagram.com/luxagraf/" rel="me" title="luxagraf on Instacrap">Instacrap</a></li> - </ul> - </nav> - <p id="license"> - © 2003-2018 - <span class="h-card"><a class="p-name u-url" href="https://luxagraf.net/">Scott Gilbertson</a><data class="p-nickname" value="luxagraf"></data><data class="p-locality" value="Athens"></data><data class="p-region" value="Georgia"></data><data class="p-country-name" value="United States"></data></span>, except photos, which are licensed under the Creative Commons (<a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/" title="read the Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 deed">details</a>). - </p> - </footer> - </div> - -<!-- Piwik --> -<script type="text/javascript"> -var _paq = _paq || []; 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The roads are unbroken expanses of smooth white, no one is out yet, no footprints track their way through the snowy sidewalk.</p> -<p><amp-img alt="Snow, Athens, GA" height="390" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/snow-1.jpg" width="260"></amp-img>The world outside is the same as it was last night, before the snow began, and yet, it feels totally different. Extraordinary. As if the whole town of Athens, all of us, our streets, our buildings, our lives had be transported elsewhere, as if we were all on some great holiday in another part of the world.</p> -<p><break></break></p> -<p>Even in places where snow is routine, where snow turns black from cars, piles in shopping centers and chokes street corners all winter long, there is something special about that first day of snow -- a reminder that the world is transmutable.</p> -<p>When the world transforms around us we transform ourselves. I could, on any given morning get up and walk through the neighborhood, down to the main street and get a cup of coffee at one of several coffee shops. I don't. But throw a little snow on the world -- a little novelty -- and suddenly it seems natural to break your habits, do something new.</p> -<p><amp-img alt="Snow, Athens, GA" height="390" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/snow-2.jpg" width="245"></amp-img>The snow crunches under our feet, a rim of ice has already formed on the top, a thin sheen of water that makes everything look like a frosted cake. Halfway to the coffee shop we noticed others. Groups of people approaching from every nearby neighborhood, some carrying sleds or trash can lids, some with dogs and children in tow. Everything is different and new, everyone wants a part of it.</p> -<p>The snow was on the ground for a week, longer in the shady slopes and shadow of the trees. Several nights later we were at a friend's birthday party, standing outside in the snow, gathered around a fire for warmth. Even at night, even when it's well below freezing, novelty draws you out. Cold is a small price for a new world.</p> - </div> - </article> -</main> - -</body> -</html> diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/01/world-outside.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/01/world-outside.html deleted file mode 100644 index 3aababa..0000000 --- a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/01/world-outside.html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,386 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html -class="detail single" dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> - -<head> - <title>The World Outside - by Scott Gilbertson</title> - <meta charset="utf-8"> - <meta http-equiv="x-ua-compatible" content="ie=edge"> - <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> - <meta name="description" - content="The world outside is the same as it was last night, before the snow began, and yet, it feels totally different. 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The roads are unbroken expanses of smooth white, no one is out yet, no footprints track their way through the snowy sidewalk.</p> -<p><img alt="Snow, Athens, GA" class="postpic" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/snow-1.jpg"/>The world outside is the same as it was last night, before the snow began, and yet, it feels totally different. Extraordinary. As if the whole town of Athens, all of us, our streets, our buildings, our lives had be transported elsewhere, as if we were all on some great holiday in another part of the world.</p> -<p><break></p> -<p>Even in places where snow is routine, where snow turns black from cars, piles in shopping centers and chokes street corners all winter long, there is something special about that first day of snow — a reminder that the world is transmutable.</p> -<p>When the world transforms around us we transform ourselves. I could, on any given morning get up and walk through the neighborhood, down to the main street and get a cup of coffee at one of several coffee shops. I don’t. But throw a little snow on the world — a little novelty — and suddenly it seems natural to break your habits, do something new.</p> -<p><img alt="Snow, Athens, GA" class="postpicright" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/snow-2.jpg"/>The snow crunches under our feet, a rim of ice has already formed on the top, a thin sheen of water that makes everything look like a frosted cake. Halfway to the coffee shop we noticed others. Groups of people approaching from every nearby neighborhood, some carrying sleds or trash can lids, some with dogs and children in tow. Everything is different and new, everyone wants a part of it.</p> -<p>The snow was on the ground for a week, longer in the shady slopes and shadow of the trees. Several nights later we were at a friend’s birthday party, standing outside in the snow, gathered around a fire for warmth. Even at night, even when it’s well below freezing, novelty draws you out. Cold is a small price for a new world.</p> - </div> - <div class="entry-footer"> - <aside id="wildlife"> - <h3>Fauna and Flora</h3> - - <ul> - - <li class="grouper">Birds<ul> - - <li>American Robin </li> - - <li>Blue Jay </li> - - <li>Brown-headed Cowbird </li> - - <li><a href="/dialogues/brown-thrasher">Brown Thrasher</a> </li> - - <li>Canada Goose </li> - - <li>Carolina Chickadee </li> - - <li>Chipping Sparrow </li> - - <li>Downy Woodpecker </li> - - <li>Eastern Bluebird </li> - - <li>Eastern Towhee </li> - - <li>Gray Catbird </li> - - <li>Great Blue Heron </li> - - <li>Hooded Warbler </li> - - <li><a href="/dialogues/northern-cardinal">Northern Cardinal</a> </li> - - <li><a href="/dialogues/northern-mockingbird">Northern Mockingbird</a> </li> - - <li>Red-bellied Woodpecker </li> - - <li><a href="/dialogues/summer-tanager">Summer Tanager</a> </li> - - <li>Tufted Titmouse </li> - - <li>Wood Duck </li> - - <li>Yellow-rumped Warbler </li> - </ul> - </ul> - </aside> - - - </div> - </article> - - - <div class="nav-wrapper"> - <nav id="page-navigation" > - <ul> - <li id="prev"><span class="bl">Previous:</span> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/01/charleston-a-z" rel="prev" title=" Charleston A-Z">Charleston A-Z</a> - </li> - <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/03/we-used-wait-it" rel="next" title=" We Used to Wait For It">We Used to Wait For It</a> - </li> - </ul> - </nav> - </div> - - - - - - -<div class="comment--form--wrapper "> - -<div class="comment--form--header"> - <p class="hed">Thoughts?</p> - <p class="subhed">Please leave a reply:</p> -</div> -<form action="/comments/post/" method="post" class="comment--form"> - -<input type="hidden" name="rder" value="" /> - - - <input type="hidden" name="content_type" value="jrnl.entry" id="id_content_type"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="object_pk" value="116" id="id_object_pk"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833463" id="id_timestamp"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="96d2ec01237e5b5a15a8700d1b03ed09505f6383" id="id_security_hash"> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_name">Name:</label> - <input type="text" name="name" maxlength="50" required id="id_name"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_email">Email address:</label> - <input type="email" name="email" required id="id_email"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_url">URL:</label> - <input type="url" name="url" id="id_url"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_comment">Comment:</label> - <div class="textarea-rounded"><textarea name="comment" cols="40" rows="10" maxlength="3000" required id="id_comment"> -</textarea></div> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset style="display:none;"> - <label for="id_honeypot">If you enter anything in this field your comment will be treated as spam:</label> - <input type="text" name="honeypot" id="id_honeypot"> - </fieldset> - - - <div class="submit"> - <input type="submit" name="post" class="submit-post btn" value="Post" /> - <input type="submit" name="preview" class="submit-preview btn" value="Preview" /> - </div> -</form> -<p style="font-size: 95%;"><strong>All comments are moderated</strong>, so you won’t see it right away. 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The roads are unbroken expanses of smooth white, no one is out yet, no footprints track their way through the snowy sidewalk.
-
-<img src="[[base_url]]2011/snow-1.jpg" alt="Snow, Athens, GA" class="postpic" />The world outside is the same as it was last night, before the snow began, and yet, it feels totally different. Extraordinary. As if the whole town of Athens, all of us, our streets, our buildings, our lives had be transported elsewhere, as if we were all on some great holiday in another part of the world.
-
-<break>
-
-Even in places where snow is routine, where snow turns black from cars, piles in shopping centers and chokes street corners all winter long, there is something special about that first day of snow -- a reminder that the world is transmutable.
-
-When the world transforms around us we transform ourselves. I could, on any given morning get up and walk through the neighborhood, down to the main street and get a cup of coffee at one of several coffee shops. I don't. But throw a little snow on the world -- a little novelty -- and suddenly it seems natural to break your habits, do something new.
-
-<img src="[[base_url]]2011/snow-2.jpg" alt="Snow, Athens, GA" class="postpicright" />The snow crunches under our feet, a rim of ice has already formed on the top, a thin sheen of water that makes everything look like a frosted cake. Halfway to the coffee shop we noticed others. Groups of people approaching from every nearby neighborhood, some carrying sleds or trash can lids, some with dogs and children in tow. Everything is different and new, everyone wants a part of it.
-
-The snow was on the ground for a week, longer in the shady slopes and shadow of the trees. Several nights later we were at a friend's birthday party, standing outside in the snow, gathered around a fire for warmth. Even at night, even when it's well below freezing, novelty draws you out. Cold is a small price for a new world. diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/03/index.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/03/index.html deleted file mode 100644 index 75b5cea..0000000 --- a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/03/index.html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,104 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> - -<head> - <title>Luxagraf - Topografical Writings: Archive</title> - <meta charset="utf-8"> - <meta http-equiv="x-ua-compatible" content="ie=edge"> - <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> - <meta name="description" - content="Luxagraf: recording journeys around the world and just next door."> - <meta name="author" content="Scott Gilbertson"> - <!--[if IE]> - <script src="/js/html5css3ie.min.js"></script> - <![endif]--> - <link rel="alternate" - type="application/rss+xml" - title="Luxagraf RSS feed" - href="https://luxagraf.net/rss/"> - <link rel="stylesheet" - href="/media/screenv8.css" - media="screen"> - <!--[if IE]> - <link rel="stylesheet" - href="/media/css/ie.css" - media="screen"> - <![endif]--> - <link rel="shortcut icon" href="favicon.ico" type="image/x-icon"> - <link rel="manifest" href="manifest.json"> - <meta property="fb:pages" content="900822029969349" /> - -</head> -<body id="archive"> - <div class="wrapper" id="wrapper"> - <div class="header-wrapper"> - <header role="banner"> - <h1><a id="logo" href="/" title="home">Luxagraf</a></h1> - <h2>Walk Slowly</h2> - </header> - <nav role="navigation" class="bl"> - <ul> - <li id="laverdad"><a href="/jrnl/" title="What we've been up to lately">Journal</a></li> - <!--<li id="nota"><a href="/field-notes/" title="Quick notes and images from the road">Notes</a></li> - <li id="fotos"><a href="/photos/" title="Photos from travels around the world">Photos</a></li>i--> - <li id="maps"><a href="/map" title="Maps">Map</a></li> - <li id="about"><a href="/about" title="About Luxagraf">About</a></li> - <li id="etc" class="last"><a href="/projects/" title="the less visible portions of the iceberg">More</a></li> - </ul> - </nav> - </div> - <ul class="bl" id="breadcrumbs" itemscope itemtype="http://data-vocabulary.org/Breadcrumb"> - <li><a href="/" title="luxagraf homepage" itemprop="url"><span itemprop="title">Home</span></a> → </li> - <li><a href="/jrnl/" title="See all Journal Entries" itemprop="url"><span itemprop="title">Journal</span></a> →</li> - <li><a href="/jrnl/2011/">2011</a> →</li> - <li>March</li> - </ul> - <main role="main" id="writing-archive" class="archive"> - <h1> Archive: March 2011</h1> - <ul class="date-archive"> - <li class="arc-item"><a href="/jrnl/2011/03/we-used-wait-it" title="We Used to Wait For It">We Used to Wait For It</a> - <time datetime="2011-03-28T21:50:00-04:00">Mar 28, 2011</time> - </li> - </ul> - - - - <footer role="contentinfo"> - <nav class="bl"> - <ul> - <li><a href="/blogroll" title="Sites that inspire us">Blogroll</a></li> - <li><a href="/jrnl/feed.xml" title="RSS feed">Subscribe</a></li> - <li><a href="/contact/" title="contact luxagraf">Contact</a></li> - <li><a href="https://twitter.com/luxagraf" rel="me" title="follow luxagraf on Twitter">Twitter</a></li> - <li><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/luxagraf" rel="me" title="luxagraf on Flickr">Flickr</a></li> - <li><a href="https://www.facebook.com/luxagraf" rel="me" title="luxagraf on Facebook">Facebook</a></li> - <li><a href="https://www.instagram.com/luxagraf/" rel="me" title="luxagraf on Instacrap">Instacrap</a></li> - </ul> - </nav> - <p id="license"> - © 2003-2018 - <span class="h-card"><a class="p-name u-url" href="https://luxagraf.net/">Scott Gilbertson</a><data class="p-nickname" value="luxagraf"></data><data class="p-locality" value="Athens"></data><data class="p-region" value="Georgia"></data><data class="p-country-name" value="United States"></data></span>, except photos, which are licensed under the Creative Commons (<a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/" title="read the Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 deed">details</a>). - </p> - </footer> - </div> - -<!-- Piwik --> -<script type="text/javascript"> -var _paq = _paq || []; 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Then in the fifties or so it became part of the garment district, then it was pretty much abandoned.</em></p> -<p>That's when we first came here, when there was nothing. When downtown Los Angeles was an empty husk of a place, fifteen years ago. </p> -<p>Bill takes a sip of beer. We stare out the window at the wall opposite his loft, enormous levered windows are folded open, a damp breeze that smells of city and ocean, of age, of death and rebirth and more death, moves through the room. </p> -<p>There is something old in the walls here, something lost in the bricks, something in the concrete, the marble. Something you don't find anymore. Something of the hard-boiled film world popularized by Sam Spade still lingers here. The streets nine floors below still look like lost set pieces from <em>The Maltese Falcon</em>. </p> -<p><break></break></p> -<p><amp-img alt="Eastern Columbia building, Downtown LA" height="400" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/losangeles11-1.jpg" width="229"></amp-img>The next day we walk around downtown. Bill is an encyclopedia of architectural history in downtown. I don't know where he learned it, but it's obvious he didn't just read it in a book, he absorbed it the way you do when you love something, when you care enough about something to dig deep into it. </p> -<p>It depresses me, this glimpse of what once was. It makes me afraid of where we are, where we are going. Our path does not feel right. There is something here that we lost, something that we ignored, but should not have. <em>It's like we just don't care about our buildings anymore</em>. </p> -<p>The Eastern Columbia building glistens, a monolithic temple of Art Deco, aquamarine spines reaching for the sky. Love it or hate it, it screams <em>someone cared</em>. Even something as simple as the facade of the old Wurlitzer piano building is a work of art, meticulously detailed plaster sculptures covering the columns -- lions mouths, lyre crests and harps -- creating a miniature world of the imagination tattooed in concrete. The theatre marquees still hold long lost fonts and synchronized flash bulbs ready to draw in the crowds, except that there are no shows, nothing save a sign that reads We Buy Gold. Compramos Oro. </p> -<p>I don't know anything about architecture, the history of architecture or where architecture is today. But I, like you, can tell when someone cares and when someone is just looking to compramos oro.</p> -<p><amp-img alt="Old Wurlitzer building, Downtown LA" height="284" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/losangeles11-2.jpg" width="550"></amp-img>Everything around us seems created for the sole purpose of showcasing what was possible. There is no reason to add the details in the concrete facades, save to show off, to say not just, I made this, but I made this beautiful. Not profitable. Beautiful.</p> -<p>Bill used to work as a project manager for large, modern construction projects in the area. His employers bought gold. Tore it down and sold it for more gold. Bill doesn't work for them anymore. They went out of business. Compramos Oro. So it goes. </p> -<p>He doesn't respond to my sweeping generalization about modern buildings right away. We stand in the sidewalk, stare the Wurlitzer building in silence for a while. <em>No. All the projects I've worked on started out with the attention to detail that you see in these buildings, but it was all cut out, too expensive, wasteful. A beautiful facade doesn't make the building worth any more to the companies that build it.</em></p> -<p><amp-img alt="Detail, Eastern Columbia building, Downtown LA" height="400" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/losangeles11-3.jpg" width="230"></amp-img>That's when I realized that the problem is not simply that we have come to value money above all else, but that we have removed ourselves from the equation. Compramos oro all you want. Pero recuerde que el mundo quiere la belleza. </p> -<p>The problem is not the money that's being made or not made, but that our buildings are created by companies. We are not men. We are not women. We are not Devo. We are no longer personal, we are no longer connected. </p> -<p>We are companies. Companies are shells created to protect us, to help us. But there is always a cost. Companies have become little more than shells that funnel money from one shell to another, like the street hustler with seashells atop his cardboard box. We build boxes to shuffle money between shells.</p> -<p>Yet it makes no sense to pine for the past. There is no retracing of steps. Build something Art Deco today and it will feel cheap, tawdry, sentimental. There is nothing to be gained in sentimentality. Wallace Stevens was right, sentimentality is a failure of feeling. It's not sentimental nostalgia you feel on the streets of downtown Los Angeles. It's loss. </p> -<p>We do not pine for a return to the past, we pine for a reality that has the vitality of what we can see in the past. What has failed us is the reality we have created. It feels devoid of imagination. Reality and imagination, Steven once wrote, are not opposed. They are the same thing. Imagination "has the strength of reality or none at all." None at all. </p> -<p>That's what hurts when you look at the modern buildings down here, not that they are not as beautiful as what came before, but that you can feel the loss of beauty, stripped away day by day, year after year until all that remained was the company's bottom line. The bottom line is not a firm foundation on which to build. We have created a reality where beauty and pride in one's work have been wrenched away and replaced with mere shells shuffled atop the cardboard remains of our imagination.</p> - </div> - </article> -</main> - -</body> -</html> diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/03/we-used-wait-it.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/03/we-used-wait-it.html deleted file mode 100644 index 7a45f00..0000000 --- a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/03/we-used-wait-it.html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,345 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html -class="detail single" dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> - -<head> - <title>We Used To Wait For It - by Scott Gilbertson</title> - <meta charset="utf-8"> - <meta http-equiv="x-ua-compatible" content="ie=edge"> - <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> - <meta name="description" - content="Architecture has become all about the bottom line, but the bottom line is not a firm foundation on which to build. 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Then in the fifties or so it became part of the garment district, then it was pretty much abandoned.</em></p> -<p>That’s when we first came here, when there was nothing. When downtown Los Angeles was an empty husk of a place, fifteen years ago. </p> -<p>Bill takes a sip of beer. We stare out the window at the wall opposite his loft, enormous levered windows are folded open, a damp breeze that smells of city and ocean, of age, of death and rebirth and more death, moves through the room. </p> -<p>There is something old in the walls here, something lost in the bricks, something in the concrete, the marble. Something you don’t find anymore. Something of the hard-boiled film world popularized by Sam Spade still lingers here. The streets nine floors below still look like lost set pieces from <em>The Maltese Falcon</em>. </p> -<p><break></p> -<p><img alt="Eastern Columbia building, Downtown LA" class="postpic" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/losangeles11-1.jpg"/>The next day we walk around downtown. Bill is an encyclopedia of architectural history in downtown. I don’t know where he learned it, but it’s obvious he didn’t just read it in a book, he absorbed it the way you do when you love something, when you care enough about something to dig deep into it. </p> -<p>It depresses me, this glimpse of what once was. It makes me afraid of where we are, where we are going. Our path does not feel right. There is something here that we lost, something that we ignored, but should not have. <em>It’s like we just don’t care about our buildings anymore</em>. </p> -<p>The Eastern Columbia building glistens, a monolithic temple of Art Deco, aquamarine spines reaching for the sky. Love it or hate it, it screams <em>someone cared</em>. Even something as simple as the facade of the old Wurlitzer piano building is a work of art, meticulously detailed plaster sculptures covering the columns — lions mouths, lyre crests and harps — creating a miniature world of the imagination tattooed in concrete. The theatre marquees still hold long lost fonts and synchronized flash bulbs ready to draw in the crowds, except that there are no shows, nothing save a sign that reads We Buy Gold. Compramos Oro. </p> -<p>I don’t know anything about architecture, the history of architecture or where architecture is today. But I, like you, can tell when someone cares and when someone is just looking to compramos oro.</p> -<p><img alt="Old Wurlitzer building, Downtown LA" class="picfull" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/losangeles11-2.jpg"/>Everything around us seems created for the sole purpose of showcasing what was possible. There is no reason to add the details in the concrete facades, save to show off, to say not just, I made this, but I made this beautiful. Not profitable. Beautiful.</p> -<p>Bill used to work as a project manager for large, modern construction projects in the area. His employers bought gold. Tore it down and sold it for more gold. Bill doesn’t work for them anymore. They went out of business. Compramos Oro. So it goes. </p> -<p>He doesn’t respond to my sweeping generalization about modern buildings right away. We stand in the sidewalk, stare the Wurlitzer building in silence for a while. <em>No. All the projects I’ve worked on started out with the attention to detail that you see in these buildings, but it was all cut out, too expensive, wasteful. A beautiful facade doesn’t make the building worth any more to the companies that build it.</em></p> -<p><img alt="Detail, Eastern Columbia building, Downtown LA" class="postpicright" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/losangeles11-3.jpg"/>That’s when I realized that the problem is not simply that we have come to value money above all else, but that we have removed ourselves from the equation. Compramos oro all you want. Pero recuerde que el mundo quiere la belleza. </p> -<p>The problem is not the money that’s being made or not made, but that our buildings are created by companies. We are not men. We are not women. We are not Devo. We are no longer personal, we are no longer connected. </p> -<p>We are companies. Companies are shells created to protect us, to help us. But there is always a cost. Companies have become little more than shells that funnel money from one shell to another, like the street hustler with seashells atop his cardboard box. We build boxes to shuffle money between shells.</p> -<p>Yet it makes no sense to pine for the past. There is no retracing of steps. Build something Art Deco today and it will feel cheap, tawdry, sentimental. There is nothing to be gained in sentimentality. Wallace Stevens was right, sentimentality is a failure of feeling. It’s not sentimental nostalgia you feel on the streets of downtown Los Angeles. It’s loss. </p> -<p>We do not pine for a return to the past, we pine for a reality that has the vitality of what we can see in the past. What has failed us is the reality we have created. It feels devoid of imagination. Reality and imagination, Steven once wrote, are not opposed. They are the same thing. Imagination “has the strength of reality or none at all.” None at all. </p> -<p>That’s what hurts when you look at the modern buildings down here, not that they are not as beautiful as what came before, but that you can feel the loss of beauty, stripped away day by day, year after year until all that remained was the company’s bottom line. The bottom line is not a firm foundation on which to build. We have created a reality where beauty and pride in one’s work have been wrenched away and replaced with mere shells shuffled atop the cardboard remains of our imagination.</p> - </div> - - </article> - - - <div class="nav-wrapper"> - <nav id="page-navigation" class="page-border-top"> - <ul> - <li id="prev"><span class="bl">Previous:</span> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/01/world-outside" rel="prev" title=" The World Outside">The World Outside</a> - </li> - <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/05/from-here-we-go-sublime" rel="next" title=" From Here We Go Sublime">From Here We Go Sublime</a> - </li> - </ul> - </nav> - </div> - - - - - - -<div class="comment--form--wrapper "> - -<div class="comment--form--header"> - <p class="hed">Thoughts?</p> - <p class="subhed">Please leave a reply:</p> -</div> -<form action="/comments/post/" method="post" class="comment--form"> - -<input type="hidden" name="rder" value="" /> - - - <input type="hidden" name="content_type" value="jrnl.entry" id="id_content_type"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="object_pk" value="117" id="id_object_pk"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833462" id="id_timestamp"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="f168ab6afc4a415941935fdd0b9700e965ec34cb" id="id_security_hash"> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_name">Name:</label> - <input type="text" name="name" maxlength="50" required id="id_name"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_email">Email address:</label> - <input type="email" name="email" required id="id_email"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_url">URL:</label> - <input type="url" name="url" id="id_url"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_comment">Comment:</label> - <div class="textarea-rounded"><textarea name="comment" cols="40" rows="10" maxlength="3000" required id="id_comment"> -</textarea></div> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset style="display:none;"> - <label for="id_honeypot">If you enter anything in this field your comment will be treated as spam:</label> - <input type="text" name="honeypot" id="id_honeypot"> - </fieldset> - - - <div class="submit"> - <input type="submit" name="post" class="submit-post btn" value="Post" /> - <input type="submit" name="preview" class="submit-preview btn" value="Preview" /> - </div> -</form> -<p style="font-size: 95%;"><strong>All comments are moderated</strong>, so you won’t see it right away. 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Then in the fifties or so it became part of the garment district, then it was pretty much abandoned.*
-
-That's when we first came here, when there was nothing. When downtown Los Angeles was an empty husk of a place, fifteen years ago.
-
-Bill takes a sip of beer. We stare out the window at the wall opposite his loft, enormous levered windows are folded open, a damp breeze that smells of city and ocean, of age, of death and rebirth and more death, moves through the room.
-
-There is something old in the walls here, something lost in the bricks, something in the concrete, the marble. Something you don't find anymore. Something of the hard-boiled film world popularized by Sam Spade still lingers here. The streets nine floors below still look like lost set pieces from *The Maltese Falcon*.
-
-<break>
-
-<img src="[[base_url]]2011/losangeles11-1.jpg" alt="Eastern Columbia building, Downtown LA" class="postpic" />The next day we walk around downtown. Bill is an encyclopedia of architectural history in downtown. I don't know where he learned it, but it's obvious he didn't just read it in a book, he absorbed it the way you do when you love something, when you care enough about something to dig deep into it.
-
-It depresses me, this glimpse of what once was. It makes me afraid of where we are, where we are going. Our path does not feel right. There is something here that we lost, something that we ignored, but should not have. *It's like we just don't care about our buildings anymore*.
-
-The Eastern Columbia building glistens, a monolithic temple of Art Deco, aquamarine spines reaching for the sky. Love it or hate it, it screams *someone cared*. Even something as simple as the facade of the old Wurlitzer piano building is a work of art, meticulously detailed plaster sculptures covering the columns -- lions mouths, lyre crests and harps -- creating a miniature world of the imagination tattooed in concrete. The theatre marquees still hold long lost fonts and synchronized flash bulbs ready to draw in the crowds, except that there are no shows, nothing save a sign that reads We Buy Gold. Compramos Oro.
-
-I don't know anything about architecture, the history of architecture or where architecture is today. But I, like you, can tell when someone cares and when someone is just looking to compramos oro.
-
-<img src="[[base_url]]2011/losangeles11-2.jpg" alt="Old Wurlitzer building, Downtown LA" class="picfull" />Everything around us seems created for the sole purpose of showcasing what was possible. There is no reason to add the details in the concrete facades, save to show off, to say not just, I made this, but I made this beautiful. Not profitable. Beautiful.
-
-Bill used to work as a project manager for large, modern construction projects in the area. His employers bought gold. Tore it down and sold it for more gold. Bill doesn't work for them anymore. They went out of business. Compramos Oro. So it goes.
-
-He doesn't respond to my sweeping generalization about modern buildings right away. We stand in the sidewalk, stare the Wurlitzer building in silence for a while. *No. All the projects I've worked on started out with the attention to detail that you see in these buildings, but it was all cut out, too expensive, wasteful. A beautiful facade doesn't make the building worth any more to the companies that build it.*
-
-<img src="[[base_url]]2011/losangeles11-3.jpg" alt="Detail, Eastern Columbia building, Downtown LA" class="postpicright" />That's when I realized that the problem is not simply that we have come to value money above all else, but that we have removed ourselves from the equation. Compramos oro all you want. Pero recuerde que el mundo quiere la belleza.
-
-The problem is not the money that's being made or not made, but that our buildings are created by companies. We are not men. We are not women. We are not Devo. We are no longer personal, we are no longer connected.
-
-We are companies. Companies are shells created to protect us, to help us. But there is always a cost. Companies have become little more than shells that funnel money from one shell to another, like the street hustler with seashells atop his cardboard box. We build boxes to shuffle money between shells.
-
-Yet it makes no sense to pine for the past. There is no retracing of steps. Build something Art Deco today and it will feel cheap, tawdry, sentimental. There is nothing to be gained in sentimentality. Wallace Stevens was right, sentimentality is a failure of feeling. It's not sentimental nostalgia you feel on the streets of downtown Los Angeles. It's loss.
-
-We do not pine for a return to the past, we pine for a reality that has the vitality of what we can see in the past. What has failed us is the reality we have created. It feels devoid of imagination. Reality and imagination, Steven once wrote, are not opposed. They are the same thing. Imagination "has the strength of reality or none at all." None at all.
-
-That's what hurts when you look at the modern buildings down here, not that they are not as beautiful as what came before, but that you can feel the loss of beauty, stripped away day by day, year after year until all that remained was the company's bottom line. The bottom line is not a firm foundation on which to build. We have created a reality where beauty and pride in one's work have been wrenched away and replaced with mere shells shuffled atop the cardboard remains of our imagination. diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/05/from-here-we-go-sublime.amp b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/05/from-here-we-go-sublime.amp deleted file mode 100644 index 32676fa..0000000 --- a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/05/from-here-we-go-sublime.amp +++ /dev/null @@ -1,177 +0,0 @@ - - -<!doctype html> -<html amp lang="en"> -<head> -<meta charset="utf-8"> -<title>From Here We Go Sublime</title> -<link rel="canonical" href="https://luxagraf.net/jrnl/2011/05/from-here-we-go-sublime"> - <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width,initial-scale=1,minimum-scale=1"> - <meta name="twitter:card" content="summary_large_image"/> - <meta name="twitter:url" content="/jrnl/2011/05/from-here-we-go-sublime"> - <meta name="twitter:description" content="It's a mad world. 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I see things. I see a grizzly looking Spaniard selling old railway lanterns at the flea market, I see muslim men playing basketball in skull caps, I see a Michael Faraday experiment with glowing orange bulbs and copper wires enclosed in glass that turns out to be just an elevator. I see a stout Frenchwoman closing the gates of Pere Lachaise, no more dead, we've had enough of you.</p> -<p><break></break></p> -<p>I see the cars on boulevard de Ménilmontant, I see the people at the cafes, from the cafes, have a seat, have a beer, have a moment to think, we could have this moment whenever we stop caring, giving a little bit less of shit about the abstract, a little bit more about the actual. Trade your paper tickets for food and know that you came out ahead, know that that the food is the point.</p> -<p><amp-img alt="la tour eiffel, paris france" height="550" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/madworld.jpg" width="960"></amp-img></p> -<p>I smell fresh bread, the warm fecund of cheese, the acrid smell of cigarette smoke on the street. I hear the whine of mopeds, distinct and distant from the rushing wind of passing cars, or the roar of buses blasting by this park bench.</p> -<p>I feel the subway rumble the bench beneath me, I feel the tremble of the aircraft in pockets of turbulence, the tremor of the wing jolts you out of sleep. I feel the flutter of pigeon wings looking for a roost. I feel the present, I feel the past, I don't feel the future. I feel better. </p> - </div> - </article> -</main> - -</body> -</html> diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/05/from-here-we-go-sublime.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/05/from-here-we-go-sublime.html deleted file mode 100644 index 6021da0..0000000 --- a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/05/from-here-we-go-sublime.html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,390 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html -class="detail single" dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> - -<head> - <title>From Here We Go Sublime - by Scott Gilbertson</title> - <meta charset="utf-8"> - <meta http-equiv="x-ua-compatible" content="ie=edge"> - <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> - <meta name="description" - content="It's a mad world. Just arrived Dulles-Reykjavik-Paris, 26-hour trip, no sleep. 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I see things. I see a grizzly looking Spaniard selling old railway lanterns at the flea market, I see muslim men playing basketball in skull caps, I see a Michael Faraday experiment with glowing orange bulbs and copper wires enclosed in glass that turns out to be just an elevator. I see a stout Frenchwoman closing the gates of Pere Lachaise, no more dead, we’ve had enough of you.</p> -<p><break></p> -<p>I see the cars on boulevard de Ménilmontant, I see the people at the cafes, from the cafes, have a seat, have a beer, have a moment to think, we could have this moment whenever we stop caring, giving a little bit less of shit about the abstract, a little bit more about the actual. Trade your paper tickets for food and know that you came out ahead, know that that the food is the point.</p> -<p><img alt="la tour eiffel, paris france" class="picwide" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/madworld.jpg"/></p> -<p>I smell fresh bread, the warm fecund of cheese, the acrid smell of cigarette smoke on the street. I hear the whine of mopeds, distinct and distant from the rushing wind of passing cars, or the roar of buses blasting by this park bench.</p> -<p>I feel the subway rumble the bench beneath me, I feel the tremble of the aircraft in pockets of turbulence, the tremor of the wing jolts you out of sleep. I feel the flutter of pigeon wings looking for a roost. I feel the present, I feel the past, I don’t feel the future. I feel better. </p> - </div> - - </article> - - - <div class="nav-wrapper"> - <nav id="page-navigation" class="page-border-top"> - <ul> - <li id="prev"><span class="bl">Previous:</span> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/03/we-used-wait-it" rel="prev" title=" We Used to Wait For It">We Used to Wait For It</a> - </li> - <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/06/language-cities" rel="next" title=" The Language of Cities">The Language of Cities</a> - </li> - </ul> - </nav> - </div> - - - - - - -<p class="comments--header">2 Comments</p> - - - - - - - <div class="comments--wrapper"> - - <div id="comment-3035" class="comment"> - <noscript class="datahashloader" data-hash="default"> - <img class="gravatar" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/gravcache/default.jpg" alt="gravatar icon for Ricardo-viajero" /> - </noscript> - <div class="comment--head"> - <span class="who"><b><a href="https://www.pinterest.es/pin/370772981816799272/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Ricardo-viajero</a></b></span> - <span class="when">February 23, 2018 at 4:28 p.m.</span> - </div> - - <div class="comment--body"> - - <p>Muy buenas! me ha agradado esta nota, espero haber cogidobuena nota, me encanta Tailandia y espero volver proximamente -me quedo chequeando alguna mas, me sumo a ver las actualizaciones, muchas gracias</p> - - </div> - </div> - - <div id="comment-3971" class="comment"> - <noscript class="datahashloader" data-hash="default"> - <img class="gravatar" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/gravcache/default.jpg" alt="gravatar icon for viajero" /> - </noscript> - <div class="comment--head"> - <span class="who"><b>viajero</b></span> - <span class="when">March 25, 2019 at 2:26 p.m.</span> - </div> - - <div class="comment--body"> - - <p>Hola me ha agradado mucho esta publicación, espero haber cogidobuena anotacion, amo Tailandia y planeo ir en breve me quedo chequeando alguna mas, me sumo -a ver las actualizaciones, muchas muchas gracias</p> - - </div> - </div> - - </div> - - -<div class="comment--form--wrapper comment-form-border"> - -<div class="comment--form--header"> - <p class="hed">Thoughts?</p> - <p class="subhed">Please leave a reply:</p> -</div> -<form action="/comments/post/" method="post" class="comment--form"> - -<input type="hidden" name="rder" value="" /> - - - <input type="hidden" name="content_type" value="jrnl.entry" id="id_content_type"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="object_pk" value="120" id="id_object_pk"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833462" id="id_timestamp"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="63305fb761532de7a3e5543fcdf061c7aec1194d" id="id_security_hash"> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_name">Name:</label> - <input type="text" name="name" maxlength="50" required id="id_name"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_email">Email address:</label> - <input type="email" name="email" required id="id_email"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_url">URL:</label> - <input type="url" name="url" id="id_url"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_comment">Comment:</label> - <div class="textarea-rounded"><textarea name="comment" cols="40" rows="10" maxlength="3000" required id="id_comment"> -</textarea></div> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset style="display:none;"> - <label for="id_honeypot">If you enter anything in this field your comment will be treated as spam:</label> - <input type="text" name="honeypot" id="id_honeypot"> - </fieldset> - - - <div class="submit"> - <input type="submit" name="post" class="submit-post btn" value="Post" /> - <input type="submit" name="preview" class="submit-preview btn" value="Preview" /> - </div> -</form> -<p style="font-size: 95%;"><strong>All comments are moderated</strong>, so you won’t see it right away. 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I see things. I see a grizzly looking Spaniard selling old railway lanterns at the flea market, I see muslim men playing basketball in skull caps, I see a Michael Faraday experiment with glowing orange bulbs and copper wires enclosed in glass that turns out to be just an elevator. I see a stout Frenchwoman closing the gates of Pere Lachaise, no more dead, we've had enough of you.
-
-<break>
-
-I see the cars on boulevard de Ménilmontant, I see the people at the cafes, from the cafes, have a seat, have a beer, have a moment to think, we could have this moment whenever we stop caring, giving a little bit less of shit about the abstract, a little bit more about the actual. Trade your paper tickets for food and know that you came out ahead, know that that the food is the point.
-
-<img class="picwide" src="[[base_url]]2011/madworld.jpg" alt="la tour eiffel, paris france" />
-
-I smell fresh bread, the warm fecund of cheese, the acrid smell of cigarette smoke on the street. I hear the whine of mopeds, distinct and distant from the rushing wind of passing cars, or the roar of buses blasting by this park bench.
-
-I feel the subway rumble the bench beneath me, I feel the tremble of the aircraft in pockets of turbulence, the tremor of the wing jolts you out of sleep. I feel the flutter of pigeon wings looking for a roost. I feel the present, I feel the past, I don't feel the future. I feel better.
-
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Here there are few people and no cars, only a few motorbikes that navigate the narrow dirt roads, none more than two meters wide, and your own feet are the dominant way to get around. There's still tourism, but there's also a local fishing and seaweed industry. </p> -<p><amp-img alt="Nusa Lembongan boats" height="573" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/lembongan-boats.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/lembongan-boats-640.jpg 640w, - https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/lembongan-boats.jpg 1120w, - https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/lembongan-boats-2240.jpg 2280w" width="1120"></amp-img></p> -<p>From Ubud we caught a bus south to Sanur, a beachside town where we thought we might spend a night or two. Unimpressed by the trash strewn beaches and overpriced resorts we went ahead and caught the afternoon boat out to Nusa Lembongan, one of three small islands off the coast of southwest Bali.</p> -<p>The pace here is more my speed. Little seems to happen. People work. People fly kites. People eat. People sit in the shade.</p> -<p>Most of Lembongan's inhabitants are seaweed farmers. At low tide dozens of farmers make their way down to the shoreline where they load their partially dried seaweed in small outriggers and flat-bottomed boats which they pole out through the shallows to the seaweed fields that line the inland the edge of the reef half a mile from shore. At low tide the seaweed plots are often above the waterline, and even at high tide the expanse of water between the shore and reef is rarely more than a meter deep.</p> -<p><amp-img alt="Seaweed farmers at sunset, Nusa Lembongan, Indonesia" height="573" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/lembongan-boats.jpg" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/lembongan-seaweedfarmers-640.jpg 640w, - https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/lembongan-seaweedfarmers.jpg 960w, - https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/lembongan-seaweedfarmers-1920.jpg 1920w" width="1120"></amp-img></p> -<p>While the farmers are out planting and harvesting seaweed (most of which I'm told ends up in Japan, used as a binding agent in various cosmetics), old women walk the shallows gathering up dropped bits of seaweed or prowl the shoreline plucking worms -- which are sold as fish bait back on Bali -- from the wet sand.</p> -<p><amp-img alt="Kites over Nusa Lembongan, Bali, Indonesia" height="380" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/lembongan-kites.jpg" width="254"></amp-img>In the evenings, when the sun dips into the clouds and the air begins to cool, the villagers come down to the beach to fly kites in the evening breeze. Kites are something of an obsession for the Balinese, nearly everyone has a kite and you see dozens littering the sky from any vantage point on the island. There are fewer kites here on Lembongan, but only because there are fewer people here.</p> -<p>These are not the kites you grew up with, small triangular affairs with a bit of ribbon on the tail and a few meters of string. Balinese kites are massive, some with tails hundreds of meters long and they fly them so high the government had to ban them around the Denpasar airport for fear they would clog the engines of 747s. The Balinese are serious about their kites. </p> -<p>Of course flying kites is fun too, but there's also a religious aspect stemming from the belief that the Indian god Indra was a kite flying aficionado. Legend holds that Indra taught local farmers how to fly kites and today the Balinese believe the kites to be whispered prayers to the gods, which explains why they fly them so high (well, that and the fact that actually getting a kite 200-300 meters in the air is just cool).</p> -<p>While Lembongan is a relaxing place to pass a few days, or even weeks, the main appeal of the island for most visitors is either the surfing or the snorkeling (and diving, but I've never had the patience or desire to learn how to dive, the vast majority of what I find interesting in the ocean is in the first 3 meters of water anyway). I went on two snorkeling trips out of Lembongan, neither of which spent much time at Lembongan's reefs, opting for the far superior reefs around the two neighboring islands, tiny Nusa Ceningan and the much larger Nusa Penida.</p> -<p>The first stop was a mediocre reef just off the dense mangrove forests of Nusa Lembongan. The reef was okay, but the water was murky and crowded with a dozen other boats also dropping snorkelers. After maybe ten minutes in the water the two Australians also on the trip and I asked the boatman if there was anything better to be found. He kept saying drift snorkel, which left us scratching our heads, but we agreed and set off for another ten minute boat ride to the eastern coast of Nusa Penida.</p> -<p><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/39891373@N07/4163166033/"><amp-img alt="Fish and reef off Nusa Lembongan, Bali. Image by Ilse Reijs and Jan-Noud Hutten, Flickr" height="495" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/scuba_nusa_lembongan_ccFlickr.jpg" width="660"></amp-img></a></p> -<p>The backside of Nusa Penida is separated from its much smaller neighbor, Nusa Ceningan by a narrow swath of water maybe a kilometer across at its widest. To the south is the open ocean, to the north is the Lombok straight, a very strong current that moves between Bali and Lombok at speeds of up to eight knots. The shallow reef-covered shelfs just off Nusa Penida, have similar currents where the water is suddenly forced through the narrow channel between islands.</p> -<p>Drift snorkeling is a bit like snorkeling in a river. The boat drops you off at one end of the current and you drift for a couple of kilometers down to the end of the current, where the island swings to the west and there's a small beach where the boat can pick you up again.</p> -<p><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/sbailliez/4826601501/"><amp-img alt="Fish and reef off Nusa Lembongan, Bali. Image by Stephane Bailliez, Flickr" height="442" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/starfishovercoral_by_Stephane_Bailliez_flickr.jpg" width="660"></amp-img></a></p> -<p>In the mean time you drift, like tubing down a river. The shoreline is a limestone cliff, carved inward by the sea. Underwater a shelf slopes off sharply. The first tier is maybe two meters, the second more like four and then finally the shelf drops off into the unknown deep, a rich turquoise blue that is alive with fish. Fish I have previously seen perhaps two or three at a time are swimming in massive schools. Dozens of Moorish Idols, schools of deep purple tangs, so dark they look black until you get up close, parrotfish in clusters, munching on the coral, bright, powder blue tangs, yellow-masked angelfish, countless butterfly fish, wrasses, triggerfish, pufferfish and even bright blue starfish that crawl slowly over the reef. The deep blue depths are filled with myriad triggerfish, angelfish, clownfish and hundreds of others swimming slowly along in the current. There are huge schools of fish that I have only previously seen in books or aquariums back in the States. In fact there are so many fish that just last month a survey done not far from here <a href="http://bit.ly/kTfvMS">discovered eight new species of fish</a>. </p> -<p>And I just drift along, occasionally kicking to slow down. Drift snorkeling is like watching fish float by the window of an underwater train. When something catches my eye, like a massive, meter-long lobster tucked back in a small cave of jagged limestone and red brown coral, I kick as hard as I can simply to stay in place and watch.</p> -<p><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/39891373@N07/4177198655/"><amp-img alt="Fish and reef off Nusa Lembongan, Bali. Image by Ilse Reijs and Jan-Noud Hutten, Flickr" height="400" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/scuba_nusa_lembongan2_ccFlickr.jpg" width="300"></amp-img></a>All too soon it is over. I am too amazed by what is without a doubt the best snorkeling I've ever done to even ask if we can do it again. Only some time later, as the boat rounds the corner of Lembongan and begins the treacherous journey back through the seaweed farm shallows, does it occur to me that perhaps we could have asked for another drift. But by then it is too late, and perhaps it would be too greedy, too much all at once, to do it twice in a row.</p> -<p>I am, however, a greedy person, so the next day I signed on to another snorkeling trip, this time out to Manta Point to see the namesake Manta Rays. This time it's a much longer boat ride all the way around to the southern shores of Nusa Penida. Contrary to what you might think, the waters of Indonesia are not particularly warm, so long boat rides mean a lot of chilly salt spray, and, despite the name, I was not optimistic about our chances of seeing any Manta Rays. But I was wrong.</p> -<p>When we arrive there are a half a dozen of the huge creatures, with their massive rippling wings, circling around a cove, surrounded by shear limestone cliffs. The water is rough, three foot swells blow in from the south, breaking against the cliffs, but in spite of the slight murkiness, it's impossible to miss the Manta Rays. Mantas are massive things, more than a meter across and at least as long, they don't so much swim as fly, slowly flapping their wings through the water with a sense of timing and grace that few animals possess. There is something hypnotic about their movements. </p> -<p>Once again I simply floated, bobbing about on the surface of the sea, beaten around a bit by the swell, while the mantas rather gracefully swam through, under and around us, like some proud eagles investigating these curious new onlookers. The rays themselves are so massive, so foreign in shape that it takes some time to come to terms with them. You think at first that they have no eyes. Or no eyes where you might think there should be eyes. Their bodies are black and it is difficult to make out the eyes -- which are also black -- amidst the darkness of their skin, but then some ray of sunlight breaks through the choppy water and you see the unmistakable glint of a dark eyeball, not at all where you thought it might be and then it dawns on you that they have been watching you all this time, never doubting for a moment where your eyes are. And then the way they have been swimming, the curious pattern of back and forth, becomes clear and you realize these are not simply fish, but something else, something very curious, inquisitive even. They swim at you head on, slowing as they approach, as if they are perhaps near sighted and need a closer look at your floating form, and then they dive about three feet down and slide under you. Once they are clear of you they turn around and repeat the process. Sometimes I dive under them, watching from below as their vast white bellies move overhead, white wings beating slowly, rhythmically through the water.</p> -<p><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/the_road_ahead/131911626/"><amp-img alt="Fish and reef off Nusa Lembongan, Bali. Image by Motoya Kawasaki, Flickr" height="494" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/mantaray_by_Motoya_Kawasaki_Flickr.jpg" width="660"></amp-img></a></p> -<p>Mantas are creatures of great grace, they move with poise, like underwater dancers, slowly flapping their way through the depths. If you ever have opportunity to swim with mantas don't pass it up there is little else in the world like it.</p> -<p>After a half hour or so with the Mantas we head back, stopping off at Crystal Bay, which doesn't have as many fish as the drift snorkeling area, but has never been fished using dynamite or cyanide -- two coral-destroying problems that have ruined many a reef in Asia -- and has more coral and intact reef than anywhere else I've been.</p> -<p>We spent a mere four days on Lembongan, but in hindsight it was worth much more. In fact, we should probably still be there, since where we went afterward was truly awful, but that's traveling, you never know what's up around the corner -- sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, you never know until you arrive. I feel lucky to have enjoyed Nusa Lembongan and its neighbors while I had the chance.</p> -<p><span style="font-size: 90%; clear: both; display: block; border-top: #333 1px dotted; padding-top: 8px;">Note: Sadly, I don't have a waterproof camera, so all the underwater images above were taken by others. The school fish along the shelf and the flish in the coral are both by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/39891373@N07/4163166033/">Ilse Reijs and Jan-Noud Hutten, Flickr</a>. The blue starfish image comes from <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/sbailliez/4826601501/">Stephane Bailliez, Flickr</a> and the manta ray image is by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/the_road_ahead/131911626/">Motoya Kawasaki, Flickr</a>. 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Here there are few people and no cars, only a few motorbikes that navigate the narrow dirt roads, none more than two meters wide, and your own feet are the dominant way to get around. There’s still tourism, but there’s also a local fishing and seaweed industry. </p> -<div class="picwide"> - <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110623_Jun_23_nusa-lembongan_39.jpg " title="view larger image"> - <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110623_Jun_23_nusa-lembongan_39_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110623_Jun_23_nusa-lembongan_39_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110623_Jun_23_nusa-lembongan_39_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110623_Jun_23_nusa-lembongan_39_picwide-med.jpg" alt="Nusa Lembongen, Indonesia photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110623_Jun_23_nusa-lembongan_39.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > - </a> -</div> - -<div class="picwide"> - <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110624_Jun_24_nusa-lembongan_49.jpg " title="view larger image"> - <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110624_Jun_24_nusa-lembongan_49_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110624_Jun_24_nusa-lembongan_49_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110624_Jun_24_nusa-lembongan_49_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110624_Jun_24_nusa-lembongan_49_picwide-med.jpg" alt="Nusa Lembongen, Indonesia photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110624_Jun_24_nusa-lembongan_49.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > - </a> -</div> - -<p>From Ubud we caught a bus south to Sanur, a beachside town where we thought we might spend a night or two. Unimpressed by the trash strewn beaches and overpriced resorts we went ahead and caught the afternoon boat out to Nusa Lembongan, one of three small islands off the coast of southwest Bali.</p> -<p>The pace here is more my speed. Little seems to happen. People work. People fly kites. People eat. People sit in the shade.</p> -<p>Most of Lembongan’s inhabitants are seaweed farmers. At low tide dozens of farmers make their way down to the shoreline where they load their partially dried seaweed in small outriggers and flat-bottomed boats which they pole out through the shallows to the seaweed fields that line the inland the edge of the reef half a mile from shore. At low tide the seaweed plots are often above the waterline, and even at high tide the expanse of water between the shore and reef is rarely more than a meter deep.</p> -<div class="picwide"> - <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110624_Jun_24_nusa-lembongan_51.jpg " title="view larger image"> - <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110624_Jun_24_nusa-lembongan_51_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110624_Jun_24_nusa-lembongan_51_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110624_Jun_24_nusa-lembongan_51_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110624_Jun_24_nusa-lembongan_51_picwide-med.jpg" alt="Nusa Lembongen, Indonesia photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110624_Jun_24_nusa-lembongan_51.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > - </a> -</div> - -<div class="picwide"> - <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110624_Jun_24_nusa-lembongan_43.jpg " title="view larger image"> - <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110624_Jun_24_nusa-lembongan_43_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110624_Jun_24_nusa-lembongan_43_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110624_Jun_24_nusa-lembongan_43_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110624_Jun_24_nusa-lembongan_43_picwide-med.jpg" alt="Nusa Lembongen, Indonesia photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110624_Jun_24_nusa-lembongan_43.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > - </a> -</div> - -<p>While the farmers are out planting and harvesting seaweed (most of which I’m told ends up in Japan, used as a binding agent in various cosmetics), old women walk the shallows gathering up dropped bits of seaweed or prowl the shoreline plucking worms — which are sold as fish bait back on Bali — from the wet sand.</p> -<p>In the evenings, when the sun dips into the clouds and the air begins to cool, the villagers come down to the beach to fly kites in the evening breeze. Kites are something of an obsession for the Balinese, nearly everyone has a kite and you see dozens littering the sky from any vantage point on the island. There are fewer kites here on Lembongan, but only because there are fewer people here.</p> -<p>These are not the kites you grew up with, small triangular affairs with a bit of ribbon on the tail and a few meters of string. Balinese kites are massive, some with tails hundreds of meters long and they fly them so high the government had to ban them around the Denpasar airport for fear they would clog the engines of 747s. The Balinese are serious about their kites. </p> -<p>Flying kites is fun too, but there’s also a religious aspect stemming from the belief that the Indian god Indra was a kite flying aficionado. Legend holds that Indra taught local farmers how to fly kites and today the Balinese believe the kites to be whispered prayers to the gods, which explains why they fly them so high (well, that and the fact that actually getting a kite 200-300 meters in the air is just cool).</p> -<p>While Lembongan is a relaxing place to pass a few days, or even weeks, the main appeal of the island for most visitors is either the surfing or the snorkeling (and diving, but I’ve never had the patience or desire to learn how to dive, the vast majority of what I find interesting in the ocean is in the first 3 meters of water anyway). I went on two snorkeling trips out of Lembongan, neither of which spent much time at Lembongan’s reefs, opting for the far superior reefs around the two neighboring islands, tiny Nusa Ceningan and the much larger Nusa Penida.</p> -<p>The first stop was a mediocre reef off the dense mangrove forests of Nusa Lembongan. The reef was okay, but the water was murky and crowded with a dozen other boats also dropping snorkelers. After maybe ten minutes in the water the two Australians also on the trip and I asked the boatman if there was anything better to be found. He kept saying drift snorkel, which left us scratching our heads, but we agreed and set off for another ten minute boat ride to the eastern coast of Nusa Penida.</p> -<figure class="picwide"> - <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2019/14194175448_8dda7e9fb3_o.jpg " title="view larger image"> - <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/14194175448_8dda7e9fb3_o_picwide960.jpg 1920w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/14194175448_8dda7e9fb3_o_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/14194175448_8dda7e9fb3_o_picwide-med.jpg 1170w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/14194175448_8dda7e9fb3_o_picwide-sm.jpg" alt="Fish and reef off Nusa Lembongan, Bali. Image by Ilse Reijs and Jan-Noud Hutten, Flickr photographed by stef bemba, Flickr" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2019/14194175448_8dda7e9fb3_o.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > - </a> -<figcaption>image by <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/110973116@N08/14194175448/in/photolist-nChUGh-7n8hMB-7kTjHM-nCiaj3-nChLEK-nSJL7w-nChRQU-nWyEQT-nUMjkx-nChuXx-7kXe43-pkHJgL-nChBLT-nCiJb2-nUGgA3-nCiKJ2-nUGjQQ-nChz3g-nSJT3f-nUGjDh-nUuerp-nUM31t-nSJGBL-7nbWrq-nCiBwa-N1jCQg-7kXdbw-7n8nrt-7n8bSF-7ncdbd-7kTjue-5phAR9-5pdiDt-" itemprop="author">stef bemba, Flickr</a></figcaption> -</figure> - -<p>The backside of Nusa Penida is separated from its much smaller neighbor, Nusa Ceningan by a narrow swath of water maybe a kilometer across at its widest. To the south is the open ocean, to the north is the Lombok straight, a very strong current that moves between Bali and Lombok at speeds of up to eight knots. The shallow reef-covered shelfs just off Nusa Penida, have similar currents where the water is suddenly forced through the narrow channel between islands.</p> -<p>Drift snorkeling is a bit like snorkeling in a river. The boat drops you off at one end of the current and you drift for a couple of kilometers down to the end of the current, where the island swings to the west and there’s a small beach where the boat can pick you up again.</p> -<figure class="picfull"> - <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2019/4826601501_371752a6ff_o.jpg " title="view larger image"> - <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 750px) 100vw, (min-width: 751) 750px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/4826601501_371752a6ff_o_picfull-sm.jpg 750w" alt="Fish and reef off Nusa Lembongan, Bali. Image photographed by Stephane Bailliez, Flickr" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2019/4826601501_371752a6ff_o.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > - </a> -<figcaption>image by <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/sbailliez/4826601501/" itemprop="author">Stephane Bailliez, Flickr</a></figcaption> -</figure> - -<p>In the mean time you drift, like tubing down a river. The shoreline is a limestone cliff, carved inward by the sea. Underwater a shelf slopes off sharply. The first tier is maybe two meters, the second more like four and then finally the shelf drops off into the unknown deep, a rich turquoise blue that is alive with fish. Fish I have previously seen perhaps two or three at a time are swimming in massive schools. Dozens of Moorish Idols, schools of deep purple tangs, so dark they look black until you get up close, parrotfish in clusters, munching on the coral, bright, powder blue tangs, yellow-masked angelfish, countless butterfly fish, wrasses, triggerfish, pufferfish and even bright blue starfish that crawl slowly over the reef. The deep blue depths are filled with myriad triggerfish, angelfish, clownfish and hundreds of others swimming slowly along in the current. There are huge schools of fish that I have only previously seen in books or aquariums back in the States. In fact there are so many fish that just last month a survey done not far from here <a href="https://phys.org/news/2011-05-reef-fish-indonesia-bali.htm://phys.org/news/2011-05-reef-fish-indonesia-bali.html">discovered eight new species of fish</a>. </p> -<figure class="picfull"> - <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2019/8085433850_02945f3746_o.jpg " title="view larger image"> - <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 750px) 100vw, (min-width: 751) 750px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/8085433850_02945f3746_o_picfull-sm.jpg 750w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/8085433850_02945f3746_o_picfull.jpg 1500w" alt="underwater purple fish, Nusa Lembongen, Indonesia photographed by Yuxuan Wang, Flickr" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2019/8085433850_02945f3746_o.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > - </a> -<figcaption>image by <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/fishywang/8085433850/" itemprop="author">Yuxuan Wang, Flickr</a></figcaption> -</figure> - -<p>And I just drift along, occasionally kicking to slow down. Drift snorkeling is like watching fish float by the window of an underwater train. When something catches my eye, like a massive, meter-long lobster tucked back in a small cave of jagged limestone and red brown coral, I kick as hard as I can simply to stay in place and watch.</p> -<p>All too soon it is over. I am too amazed by what is without a doubt the best snorkeling I’ve ever done to even ask if we can do it again. Only some time later, as the boat rounds the corner of Lembongan and begins the treacherous journey back through the seaweed farm shallows, does it occur to me that perhaps we could have asked for another drift. But by then it is too late, and perhaps it would be too greedy, too much all at once, to do it twice in a row.</p> -<p>I am, however, a greedy person, so the next day I signed on to another snorkeling trip, this time out to Manta Point to see the namesake Manta Rays. This time it’s a much longer boat ride all the way around to the southern shores of Nusa Penida. Contrary to what you might think, the waters of Indonesia are not particularly warm, so long boat rides mean a lot of chilly salt spray, and, despite the name, I was not optimistic about our chances of seeing any Manta Rays. But I was wrong.</p> -<p>When we arrive there are a half a dozen of the huge creatures, with their massive rippling wings, circling around a cove, surrounded by shear limestone cliffs. The water is rough, three foot swells blow in from the south, breaking against the cliffs, but in spite of the slight murkiness, it’s impossible to miss the Manta Rays. Mantas are massive things, more than a meter across and at least as long, they don’t so much swim as fly, slowly flapping their wings through the water with a sense of timing and grace that few animals possess. There is something hypnotic about their movements. </p> -<p>Once again I simply floated, bobbing about on the surface of the sea, beaten around a bit by the swell, while the mantas rather gracefully swam through, under and around us, like some proud eagles investigating these curious new onlookers. The rays themselves are so massive, so foreign in shape that it takes some time to come to terms with them. You think at first that they have no eyes. Or no eyes where you might think there should be eyes. Their bodies are black and it is difficult to make out the eyes — which are also black — amidst the darkness of their skin, but then some ray of sunlight breaks through the choppy water and you see the unmistakable glint of a dark eyeball, not at all where you thought it might be and then it dawns on you that they have been watching you all this time, never doubting for a moment where your eyes are. And then the way they have been swimming, the curious pattern of back and forth, becomes clear and you realize these are not simply fish, but something else, something very curious, inquisitive even. They swim at you head on, slowing as they approach, as if they are perhaps near sighted and need a closer look at your floating form, and then they dive about three feet down and slide under you. Once they are clear of you they turn around and repeat the process. Sometimes I dive under them, watching from below as their vast white bellies move overhead, white wings beating slowly, rhythmically through the water.</p> -<figure class="picfull"> - <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2019/131911626_e18dfa9045_o.jpg " title="view larger image"> - <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 750px) 100vw, (min-width: 751) 750px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/131911626_e18dfa9045_o_picfull-sm.jpg 750w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/131911626_e18dfa9045_o_picfull.jpg 1500w" alt="None photographed by Motoya Kawasaki, Flickr" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2019/131911626_e18dfa9045_o.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > - </a> -<figcaption>image by <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/the_road_ahead/131911626/" itemprop="author">Motoya Kawasaki, Flickr</a></figcaption> -</figure> - -<p>Mantas are creatures of great grace, they move with poise, like underwater dancers, slowly flapping their way through the depths. If you ever have opportunity to swim with mantas don’t pass it up there is little else in the world like it.</p> -<p>After a half hour or so with the Mantas we head back, stopping off at Crystal Bay, which doesn’t have as many fish as the drift snorkeling area, but has never been fished using dynamite or cyanide — two coral-destroying problems that have ruined many a reef in Asia — and has more coral and intact reef than anywhere else I’ve been.</p> -<p>We spent a mere four days on Lembongan, but in hindsight it was worth much more. In fact, we should probably still be there, since where we went afterward was truly awful, but that’s traveling, you never know what’s up around the corner — sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, you never know until you arrive. I feel lucky to have enjoyed Nusa Lembongan and its neighbors while I had the chance.</p> -<div class="footnote"><p>Note: Sadly, I don’t have a waterproof camera, so all the underwater images above were taken by others and are credited beneath the image. Many thanks to those who share their images under a creative commons license.</p></div> - </div> - - </article> - - - <div class="nav-wrapper"> - <nav id="page-navigation" class="page-border-top"> - <ul> - <li id="prev"><span class="bl">Previous:</span> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/06/temple-ceremony-ubud" rel="prev" title=" The Balinese Temple Ceremony">The Balinese Temple Ceremony</a> - </li> - <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/10/worst-place-on-earth" rel="next" title=" The Worst Place on Earth">The Worst Place on Earth</a> - </li> - </ul> - </nav> - </div> - - - - - - -<p class="comments--header">7 Comments</p> - - - - - - - <div class="comments--wrapper"> - - <div id="comment-450" class="comment"> - <noscript class="datahashloader" data-hash="default"> - <img class="gravatar" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/gravcache/default.jpg" alt="gravatar icon for Jie hui" /> - </noscript> - <div class="comment--head"> - <span class="who"><b><a href="http://www.missgoob.com" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Jie hui</a></b></span> - <span class="when">August 13, 2015 at 11:19 a.m.</span> - </div> - - <div class="comment--body"> - - <p>Hello from Singapore!</p> -<p>I am planning to visit Nusa Lembongan / Nusa Penida for snorkeling this coming September. Your experience sounds surreal! Would you share where you booked the trip from? Did you do it online or at the island itself? Any tips on what should we look out for when sourcing for packages? :) thank you in advance! </p> - - </div> - </div> - - <div id="comment-451" class="comment"> - <noscript class="datahashloader" data-hash="d64f4854965b2b1c3ecafee4b2a66fac"> - <img class="gravatar" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/gravcache/d64f4854965b2b1c3ecafee4b2a66fac.jpg" alt="gravatar icon for Scott" /> - </noscript> - <div class="comment--head"> - <span class="who"><b><a href="https://luxagraf.net/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Scott</a></b></span> - <span class="when">August 13, 2015 at 11:43 a.m.</span> - </div> - - <div class="comment--body"> - - <p>Jie hui- </p> -<p>Unfortunately I don’t remember the name of the guide, but I booked it through the hotel we were staying at, which was the Puri Nusa:</p> -<p><a href="http://www.lembonganhotels.com/overview_Puri_Nusa_Bungalows_16.html">Lembonganhotels.com</a></p> -<p>For the drift snorkling, just tell them that’s what you want to do, as far as I know where I went was the only place to do that.</p> -<p>The main thing with the mantas is to ask to go to “Manta Point” or sometimes Manta Cove. Pretty much all the guides should know what you’re talking about though. </p> -<p>As for what to watch out for, I suppose there are con artists everywhere, but I didn’t really hear any bad stories or anything while I was there. I think so long as you negotiate everything before hand and are clear on where you want to go (or just what you want to do) you should be fine.</p> -<p>Hope that helps, if you have any other questions, feel free to ask.</p> - - </div> - </div> - - <div id="comment-1376" class="comment"> - <noscript class="datahashloader" data-hash="default"> - <img class="gravatar" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/gravcache/default.jpg" alt="gravatar icon for Brian" /> - </noscript> - <div class="comment--head"> - <span class="who"><b>Brian</b></span> - <span class="when">December 28, 2015 at 11:31 p.m.</span> - </div> - - <div class="comment--body"> - - <p>Thanks for the great article! I am planning a holiday to Bali and want to try this drift snorkeling. I’m a little confused though, was this done in the narrow water way inbetween Nusa Ceningan and Nusa Penida or on the east side of Nusa Penida?</p> -<p>Thanks again for sharing!</p> -<p>Brian</p> - - </div> - </div> - - <div id="comment-1379" class="comment"> - <noscript class="datahashloader" data-hash="d64f4854965b2b1c3ecafee4b2a66fac"> - <img class="gravatar" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/gravcache/d64f4854965b2b1c3ecafee4b2a66fac.jpg" alt="gravatar icon for Scott" /> - </noscript> - <div class="comment--head"> - <span class="who"><b><a href="https://luxagraf.net/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Scott</a></b></span> - <span class="when">December 29, 2015 at 11:41 a.m.</span> - </div> - - <div class="comment--body"> - - <p>@Brian-</p> -<p>It’s been a while, but I believe we jumped in about halfway along that narrow water way between Nusa Ceningan and Nusa Penida and then the current pulled us northeast tracing the curve of Nusa Penida. </p> -<p>I can’t really tell the exact location on Google Maps but I know there were some high cliffs so I’m guessing it was around what Google labels as Gamat Bay, probably just to the north of that.</p> -<p><a href="https://www.google.com/maps/place/Lembongan+island,+Indonesia/@-8.7002252,115.4670686,994m/data=!3m1!1e3!4m2!3m1!1s0x2dd26d9f537b69f3:0xdc1b94bd6c67a033">map</a></p> -<p>Hope that helps, have a great trip.</p> - - </div> - </div> - - <div id="comment-2104" class="comment"> - <noscript class="datahashloader" data-hash="default"> - <img class="gravatar" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/gravcache/default.jpg" alt="gravatar icon for Mary-Anne" /> - </noscript> - <div class="comment--head"> - <span class="who"><b>Mary-Anne</b></span> - <span class="when">October 24, 2016 at 6:35 a.m.</span> - </div> - - <div class="comment--body"> - - <p>Thanks for sharing your great snorkelling adventures! I am not a very confident swimmer but love snorkelling. Do you think the drift snorkel would be safe for a relatively novice snorkeller? Ie can you get swamped by waves for extended periods? Thanks, Mary-Anne</p> - - </div> - </div> - - <div id="comment-2105" class="comment"> - <noscript class="datahashloader" data-hash="d64f4854965b2b1c3ecafee4b2a66fac"> - <img class="gravatar" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/gravcache/d64f4854965b2b1c3ecafee4b2a66fac.jpg" alt="gravatar icon for Scott" /> - </noscript> - <div class="comment--head"> - <span class="who"><b><a href="https://luxagraf.net/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Scott</a></b></span> - <span class="when">October 24, 2016 at 9:14 a.m.</span> - </div> - - <div class="comment--body"> - - <p>@Mary-Anne</p> -<p>There were no real waves where I was, some small chop from wind but that was about it. I would say it’s generally safe for a novice, but of course it would really depend on the exact circumstances, wind, tides, currents, tour operators, etc. </p> -<p>Wear a flotation device and if you’re not completely comfortable with a situation don’t hesitate to stay on the boat.</p> - - </div> - </div> - - <div id="comment-2454" class="comment"> - <noscript class="datahashloader" data-hash="default"> - <img class="gravatar" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/gravcache/default.jpg" alt="gravatar icon for test" /> - </noscript> - <div class="comment--head"> - <span class="who"><b>test</b></span> - <span class="when">May 02, 2017 at 11:05 a.m.</span> - </div> - - <div class="comment--body"> - - <p>Hello, I enjoy reading all of your post. 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Here there are few people and no cars, only a few motorbikes that navigate the narrow dirt roads, none more than two meters wide, and your own feet are the dominant way to get around. There's still tourism, but there's also a local fishing and seaweed industry.
-
-<img src="images/2011/110623_Jun_23_nusa-lembongan_39.jpg" id="image-1910" class="picwide" />
-<img src="images/2011/110624_Jun_24_nusa-lembongan_49.jpg" id="image-1912" class="picwide" />
-
-From Ubud we caught a bus south to Sanur, a beachside town where we thought we might spend a night or two. Unimpressed by the trash strewn beaches and overpriced resorts we went ahead and caught the afternoon boat out to Nusa Lembongan, one of three small islands off the coast of southwest Bali.
-
-The pace here is more my speed. Little seems to happen. People work. People fly kites. People eat. People sit in the shade.
-
-Most of Lembongan's inhabitants are seaweed farmers. At low tide dozens of farmers make their way down to the shoreline where they load their partially dried seaweed in small outriggers and flat-bottomed boats which they pole out through the shallows to the seaweed fields that line the inland the edge of the reef half a mile from shore. At low tide the seaweed plots are often above the waterline, and even at high tide the expanse of water between the shore and reef is rarely more than a meter deep.
-
-<img src="images/2011/110624_Jun_24_nusa-lembongan_51.jpg" id="image-1913" class="picwide" />
-<img src="images/2011/110624_Jun_24_nusa-lembongan_43.jpg" id="image-1911" class="picwide" />
-
-While the farmers are out planting and harvesting seaweed (most of which I'm told ends up in Japan, used as a binding agent in various cosmetics), old women walk the shallows gathering up dropped bits of seaweed or prowl the shoreline plucking worms -- which are sold as fish bait back on Bali -- from the wet sand.
-
-In the evenings, when the sun dips into the clouds and the air begins to cool, the villagers come down to the beach to fly kites in the evening breeze. Kites are something of an obsession for the Balinese, nearly everyone has a kite and you see dozens littering the sky from any vantage point on the island. There are fewer kites here on Lembongan, but only because there are fewer people here.
-
-These are not the kites you grew up with, small triangular affairs with a bit of ribbon on the tail and a few meters of string. Balinese kites are massive, some with tails hundreds of meters long and they fly them so high the government had to ban them around the Denpasar airport for fear they would clog the engines of 747s. The Balinese are serious about their kites.
-
-Flying kites is fun too, but there's also a religious aspect stemming from the belief that the Indian god Indra was a kite flying aficionado. Legend holds that Indra taught local farmers how to fly kites and today the Balinese believe the kites to be whispered prayers to the gods, which explains why they fly them so high (well, that and the fact that actually getting a kite 200-300 meters in the air is just cool).
-
-While Lembongan is a relaxing place to pass a few days, or even weeks, the main appeal of the island for most visitors is either the surfing or the snorkeling (and diving, but I've never had the patience or desire to learn how to dive, the vast majority of what I find interesting in the ocean is in the first 3 meters of water anyway). I went on two snorkeling trips out of Lembongan, neither of which spent much time at Lembongan's reefs, opting for the far superior reefs around the two neighboring islands, tiny Nusa Ceningan and the much larger Nusa Penida.
-
-The first stop was a mediocre reef off the dense mangrove forests of Nusa Lembongan. The reef was okay, but the water was murky and crowded with a dozen other boats also dropping snorkelers. After maybe ten minutes in the water the two Australians also on the trip and I asked the boatman if there was anything better to be found. He kept saying drift snorkel, which left us scratching our heads, but we agreed and set off for another ten minute boat ride to the eastern coast of Nusa Penida.
-
-<img src="images/2019/14194175448_8dda7e9fb3_o.jpg" id="image-1917" class="picwide" />
-
-The backside of Nusa Penida is separated from its much smaller neighbor, Nusa Ceningan by a narrow swath of water maybe a kilometer across at its widest. To the south is the open ocean, to the north is the Lombok straight, a very strong current that moves between Bali and Lombok at speeds of up to eight knots. The shallow reef-covered shelfs just off Nusa Penida, have similar currents where the water is suddenly forced through the narrow channel between islands.
-
-Drift snorkeling is a bit like snorkeling in a river. The boat drops you off at one end of the current and you drift for a couple of kilometers down to the end of the current, where the island swings to the west and there's a small beach where the boat can pick you up again.
-
-<img src="images/2019/4826601501_371752a6ff_o.jpg" id="image-1920" class="picfull" />
-
-In the mean time you drift, like tubing down a river. The shoreline is a limestone cliff, carved inward by the sea. Underwater a shelf slopes off sharply. The first tier is maybe two meters, the second more like four and then finally the shelf drops off into the unknown deep, a rich turquoise blue that is alive with fish. Fish I have previously seen perhaps two or three at a time are swimming in massive schools. Dozens of Moorish Idols, schools of deep purple tangs, so dark they look black until you get up close, parrotfish in clusters, munching on the coral, bright, powder blue tangs, yellow-masked angelfish, countless butterfly fish, wrasses, triggerfish, pufferfish and even bright blue starfish that crawl slowly over the reef. The deep blue depths are filled with myriad triggerfish, angelfish, clownfish and hundreds of others swimming slowly along in the current. There are huge schools of fish that I have only previously seen in books or aquariums back in the States. In fact there are so many fish that just last month a survey done not far from here [discovered eight new species of fish](https://phys.org/news/2011-05-reef-fish-indonesia-bali.htm://phys.org/news/2011-05-reef-fish-indonesia-bali.html).
-
-<img src="images/2019/8085433850_02945f3746_o.jpg" id="image-1919" class="picfull" />
-
-And I just drift along, occasionally kicking to slow down. Drift snorkeling is like watching fish float by the window of an underwater train. When something catches my eye, like a massive, meter-long lobster tucked back in a small cave of jagged limestone and red brown coral, I kick as hard as I can simply to stay in place and watch.
-
-All too soon it is over. I am too amazed by what is without a doubt the best snorkeling I've ever done to even ask if we can do it again. Only some time later, as the boat rounds the corner of Lembongan and begins the treacherous journey back through the seaweed farm shallows, does it occur to me that perhaps we could have asked for another drift. But by then it is too late, and perhaps it would be too greedy, too much all at once, to do it twice in a row.
-
-I am, however, a greedy person, so the next day I signed on to another snorkeling trip, this time out to Manta Point to see the namesake Manta Rays. This time it's a much longer boat ride all the way around to the southern shores of Nusa Penida. Contrary to what you might think, the waters of Indonesia are not particularly warm, so long boat rides mean a lot of chilly salt spray, and, despite the name, I was not optimistic about our chances of seeing any Manta Rays. But I was wrong.
-
-When we arrive there are a half a dozen of the huge creatures, with their massive rippling wings, circling around a cove, surrounded by shear limestone cliffs. The water is rough, three foot swells blow in from the south, breaking against the cliffs, but in spite of the slight murkiness, it's impossible to miss the Manta Rays. Mantas are massive things, more than a meter across and at least as long, they don't so much swim as fly, slowly flapping their wings through the water with a sense of timing and grace that few animals possess. There is something hypnotic about their movements.
-
-Once again I simply floated, bobbing about on the surface of the sea, beaten around a bit by the swell, while the mantas rather gracefully swam through, under and around us, like some proud eagles investigating these curious new onlookers. The rays themselves are so massive, so foreign in shape that it takes some time to come to terms with them. You think at first that they have no eyes. Or no eyes where you might think there should be eyes. Their bodies are black and it is difficult to make out the eyes -- which are also black -- amidst the darkness of their skin, but then some ray of sunlight breaks through the choppy water and you see the unmistakable glint of a dark eyeball, not at all where you thought it might be and then it dawns on you that they have been watching you all this time, never doubting for a moment where your eyes are. And then the way they have been swimming, the curious pattern of back and forth, becomes clear and you realize these are not simply fish, but something else, something very curious, inquisitive even. They swim at you head on, slowing as they approach, as if they are perhaps near sighted and need a closer look at your floating form, and then they dive about three feet down and slide under you. Once they are clear of you they turn around and repeat the process. Sometimes I dive under them, watching from below as their vast white bellies move overhead, white wings beating slowly, rhythmically through the water.
-
-<img src="images/2019/131911626_e18dfa9045_o.jpg" id="image-1918" class="picfull" />
-
-Mantas are creatures of great grace, they move with poise, like underwater dancers, slowly flapping their way through the depths. If you ever have opportunity to swim with mantas don't pass it up there is little else in the world like it.
-
-After a half hour or so with the Mantas we head back, stopping off at Crystal Bay, which doesn't have as many fish as the drift snorkeling area, but has never been fished using dynamite or cyanide -- two coral-destroying problems that have ruined many a reef in Asia -- and has more coral and intact reef than anywhere else I've been.
-
-We spent a mere four days on Lembongan, but in hindsight it was worth much more. In fact, we should probably still be there, since where we went afterward was truly awful, but that's traveling, you never know what's up around the corner -- sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, you never know until you arrive. I feel lucky to have enjoyed Nusa Lembongan and its neighbors while I had the chance.
-
-<div class="footnote"><p>Note: Sadly, I don't have a waterproof camera, so all the underwater images above were taken by others and are credited beneath the image. Many thanks to those who share their images under a creative commons license.</p></div> diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/cooking-rome.amp b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/cooking-rome.amp deleted file mode 100644 index 46215fe..0000000 --- a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/cooking-rome.amp +++ /dev/null @@ -1,192 +0,0 @@ - - -<!doctype html> -<html amp lang="en"> -<head> -<meta charset="utf-8"> -<title>Cooking in Rome</title> -<link rel="canonical" href="https://luxagraf.net/jrnl/2011/06/cooking-rome"> - <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width,initial-scale=1,minimum-scale=1"> - <meta name="twitter:card" content="summary_large_image"/> - <meta name="twitter:url" content="/jrnl/2011/06/cooking-rome"> - <meta name="twitter:description" content="Italy has some of the best produce and meat in the world. 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It's big and massively spread out. There's really no downtown and everything you might want to see is miles from wherever you are. And it has all the attendant traffic, noise and confusion of humanity you would expect from a big city. It also spans several millennia of history with ancient Roman ruins butted up against Gucci and Armani stores.</p> -<p>I'm pretty sure Rome is a great city. I'm pretty sure you could have an awesome time exploring Rome, but by the time I got there I was already done with Italy. Done with Europe. I was ready for the beaches of Bali, our next stop on this quick jaunt around the world.</p> -<p><break></break></p> -<p>My exploratory motivation was low by the time I got to Rome. We went to the Colosseum and marveled for a moment before an ATM machine ate my card on a Sunday afternoon<sup id="fnr-001"><a href="#fn-001">[1]</a></sup>. We didn't quite have the money to get in and even if we did there was no way we were going to wait in the line that wrapped nearly all the way around the Colosseum. Ancient sites are pretty amazing in my opinion, but that amazingness diminishes considerably when the line to get in is five hours long. If I'm going to wait in a five hour line (and I'm not, ever, but if I were) I want a new iPad at the end of the experience.</p> -<p><amp-img alt="Colosseum, Rome,s Italy" height="274" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/rome-colosseum.jpg" width="550"></amp-img></p> -<p>When you're burned out on traveling the best thing to do is nothing. Which is what we did for three days. We explored a little, wandered the Trastevere area, ate some cacio e pepe (simple noodles with a sauce of pecorino and black pepper), a bit of pizza and even made it out to the Pantheon, which was an utterly disgusting experience. I know the Catholic Church is pretty much like the Borg in Star Trek, absorbing and destroying everything in its path, but to turn a place whose name literally translates as "many gods" into a catholic church is the sort of bullshit that just makes me despair about the future of humanity.</p> -<p><amp-img alt="Self portrait of cynicism, Pantheon Rome, Italy" height="334" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/rome-cynical-pantheon.jpg" width="550"></amp-img></p> -<p>So instead of really getting into the sights of Rome we got into the food. Not the kind you get in restaurants, but the kind you find at the local market. Every afternoon we walked half a block down the street from our apartment to a small produce stand. It wasn't even a nice produce market, just an ordinary produce stand in a residential neighborhood with a mediocre selection. And it was the best damn produce I've ever purchased. </p> -<p>Each afternoon we bought nearly 2 kilos worth of zucchini, eggplant, lemon and greens. For under 2 euro. At the worst exchange rates that's about $2.80 for 4 pounds of produce. You can hardly buy a dozen bananas for that price in the U.S.</p> -<p>The only spices at the apartment where we stayed were salt and pepper. There was also some ordinary, cheap olive oil, which happens to be ten times better than the most expensive olive oil I've seen in the United States. But you don't need extensive spices and fancy oils when the ingredients you start with are high quality. I sauteed everything in a generous splash of olive oil with a bit of salt and pepper and it was the best zucchini, eggplant and beef I've ever made, or had for that matter.</p> -<p><amp-img alt="zuchinni, eggplant, greens, Rome, Italy" height="353" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/rome-cooking.jpg" width="550"></amp-img></p> -<p>And I'm far from a great cook. I learned a few things working under talented cooks like <a href="http://www.fiveandten.com/chef.html">Hugh Acheson</a> and Chuck Ramsey, but even if you barely know how to scramble eggs, you could make the same thing I made in Rome. Good ingredients are all you really need, and the raw cooking materials of Italy are the best I've seen in all my travels.</p> -<p>In the end Italy and I didn't really get along, but the food redeemed it for me. The restaurants are good, but if you really want to experience the glory of Italian food you need to head to the market, grab some utterly amazing raw ingredients and whip up something yourself. This is what food is supposed to be, simple, fresh and great. </p> -<p>Now hold my calls, I'm off to lie in a hammock somewhere in Indonesia.</p> -<ol class="footnote"> -<li id="fn-001"> -<p><span class="note1">1. I know I know. Terrible. Never use your ATM card after hours. The lesson here is that even if you spend years wandering the globe, you're still, at the end of the day, an idiot. Luckily I got it back the next day without too much hassle.</span><a class="footnoteBackLink" href="#fnr-001" title="Jump back to footnote 1 in the text.">↩</a></p> -</li> -</ol> - </div> - </article> -</main> - -</body> -</html> diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/cooking-rome.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/cooking-rome.html deleted file mode 100644 index 7371024..0000000 --- a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/cooking-rome.html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,346 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html -class="detail single" dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> - -<head> - <title>Cooking In Rome - by Scott Gilbertson</title> - <meta charset="utf-8"> - <meta http-equiv="x-ua-compatible" content="ie=edge"> - <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> - <meta name="description" - content="Italy has some of the best produce and meat in the world. This is what food is supposed to be, simple, fresh and great. 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It’s big and massively spread out. There’s really no downtown and everything you might want to see is miles from wherever you are. And it has all the attendant traffic, noise and confusion of humanity you would expect from a big city. It also spans several millennia of history with ancient Roman ruins butted up against Gucci and Armani stores.</p> -<p>I’m pretty sure Rome is a great city. I’m pretty sure you could have an awesome time exploring Rome, but by the time I got there I was already done with Italy. Done with Europe. I was ready for the beaches of Bali, our next stop on this quick jaunt around the world.</p> -<p><break></p> -<p>My exploratory motivation was low by the time I got to Rome. We went to the Colosseum and marveled for a moment before an ATM machine ate my card on a Sunday afternoon<sup id="fnr-001"><a href="#fn-001">[1]</a></sup>. We didn’t quite have the money to get in and even if we did there was no way we were going to wait in the line that wrapped nearly all the way around the Colosseum. Ancient sites are pretty amazing in my opinion, but that amazingness diminishes considerably when the line to get in is five hours long. If I’m going to wait in a five hour line (and I’m not, ever, but if I were) I want a new iPad at the end of the experience.</p> -<p><img alt="Colosseum, Rome,s Italy" class="picfull" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/rome-colosseum.jpg"/></p> -<p>When you’re burned out on traveling the best thing to do is nothing. Which is what we did for three days. We explored a little, wandered the Trastevere area, ate some cacio e pepe (simple noodles with a sauce of pecorino and black pepper), a bit of pizza and even made it out to the Pantheon, which was an utterly disgusting experience. I know the Catholic Church is pretty much like the Borg in Star Trek, absorbing and destroying everything in its path, but to turn a place whose name literally translates as “many gods” into a catholic church is the sort of bullshit that just makes me despair about the future of humanity.</p> -<p><img alt="Self portrait of cynicism, Pantheon Rome, Italy" class="picfull" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/rome-cynical-pantheon.jpg"/></p> -<p>So instead of really getting into the sights of Rome we got into the food. Not the kind you get in restaurants, but the kind you find at the local market. Every afternoon we walked half a block down the street from our apartment to a small produce stand. It wasn’t even a nice produce market, just an ordinary produce stand in a residential neighborhood with a mediocre selection. And it was the best damn produce I’ve ever purchased. </p> -<p>Each afternoon we bought nearly 2 kilos worth of zucchini, eggplant, lemon and greens. For under 2 euro. At the worst exchange rates that’s about $2.80 for 4 pounds of produce. You can hardly buy a dozen bananas for that price in the U.S.</p> -<p>The only spices at the apartment where we stayed were salt and pepper. There was also some ordinary, cheap olive oil, which happens to be ten times better than the most expensive olive oil I’ve seen in the United States. But you don’t need extensive spices and fancy oils when the ingredients you start with are high quality. I sauteed everything in a generous splash of olive oil with a bit of salt and pepper and it was the best zucchini, eggplant and beef I’ve ever made, or had for that matter.</p> -<p><img alt="zuchinni, eggplant, greens, Rome, Italy" class="picfull" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/rome-cooking.jpg"/></p> -<p>And I’m far from a great cook. I learned a few things working under talented cooks like <a href="http://www.fiveandten.com/chef.html">Hugh Acheson</a> and Chuck Ramsey, but even if you barely know how to scramble eggs, you could make the same thing I made in Rome. Good ingredients are all you really need, and the raw cooking materials of Italy are the best I’ve seen in all my travels.</p> -<p>In the end Italy and I didn’t really get along, but the food redeemed it for me. The restaurants are good, but if you really want to experience the glory of Italian food you need to head to the market, grab some utterly amazing raw ingredients and whip up something yourself. This is what food is supposed to be, simple, fresh and great. </p> -<p>Now hold my calls, I’m off to lie in a hammock somewhere in Indonesia.</p> -<ol class="footnote"> -<li id="fn-001"> -<p><span class="note1">1. I know I know. Terrible. Never use your ATM card after hours. The lesson here is that even if you spend years wandering the globe, you’re still, at the end of the day, an idiot. Luckily I got it back the next day without too much hassle.</span><a href="#fnr-001" class="footnoteBackLink" title="Jump back to footnote 1 in the text.">↩</a></p> -</li> -</ol> - </div> - - </article> - - - <div class="nav-wrapper"> - <nav id="page-navigation" class="page-border-top"> - <ul> - <li id="prev"><span class="bl">Previous:</span> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/06/natural-science" rel="prev" title=" Natural Science">Natural Science</a> - </li> - <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/06/motor-city-burning" rel="next" title=" Motor City is Burning">Motor City is Burning</a> - </li> - </ul> - </nav> - </div> - - - - - - -<div class="comment--form--wrapper "> - -<div class="comment--form--header"> - <p class="hed">Thoughts?</p> - <p class="subhed">Please leave a reply:</p> -</div> -<form action="/comments/post/" method="post" class="comment--form"> - -<input type="hidden" name="rder" value="" /> - - - <input type="hidden" name="content_type" value="jrnl.entry" id="id_content_type"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="object_pk" value="125" id="id_object_pk"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833459" id="id_timestamp"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="cb9986240c53877c84823c7a4f9dddf64737e7be" id="id_security_hash"> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_name">Name:</label> - <input type="text" name="name" maxlength="50" required id="id_name"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_email">Email address:</label> - <input type="email" name="email" required id="id_email"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_url">URL:</label> - <input type="url" name="url" id="id_url"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_comment">Comment:</label> - <div class="textarea-rounded"><textarea name="comment" cols="40" rows="10" maxlength="3000" required id="id_comment"> -</textarea></div> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset style="display:none;"> - <label for="id_honeypot">If you enter anything in this field your comment will be treated as spam:</label> - <input type="text" name="honeypot" id="id_honeypot"> - </fieldset> - - - <div class="submit"> - <input type="submit" name="post" class="submit-post btn" value="Post" /> - <input type="submit" name="preview" class="submit-preview btn" value="Preview" /> - </div> -</form> -<p style="font-size: 95%;"><strong>All comments are moderated</strong>, so you won’t see it right away. 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It's big and massively spread out. There's really no downtown and everything you might want to see is miles from wherever you are. And it has all the attendant traffic, noise and confusion of humanity you would expect from a big city. It also spans several millennia of history with ancient Roman ruins butted up against Gucci and Armani stores.
-
-I'm pretty sure Rome is a great city. I'm pretty sure you could have an awesome time exploring Rome, but by the time I got there I was already done with Italy. Done with Europe. I was ready for the beaches of Bali, our next stop on this quick jaunt around the world.
-
-<break>
-
-My exploratory motivation was low by the time I got to Rome. We went to the Colosseum and marveled for a moment before an ATM machine ate my card on a Sunday afternoon<sup id="fnr-001"><a href="#fn-001">[1]</a></sup>. We didn't quite have the money to get in and even if we did there was no way we were going to wait in the line that wrapped nearly all the way around the Colosseum. Ancient sites are pretty amazing in my opinion, but that amazingness diminishes considerably when the line to get in is five hours long. If I'm going to wait in a five hour line (and I'm not, ever, but if I were) I want a new iPad at the end of the experience.
-
-<img class="picfull" src="[[base_url]]2011/rome-colosseum.jpg" alt="Colosseum, Rome,s Italy" />
-
-When you're burned out on traveling the best thing to do is nothing. Which is what we did for three days. We explored a little, wandered the Trastevere area, ate some cacio e pepe (simple noodles with a sauce of pecorino and black pepper), a bit of pizza and even made it out to the Pantheon, which was an utterly disgusting experience. I know the Catholic Church is pretty much like the Borg in Star Trek, absorbing and destroying everything in its path, but to turn a place whose name literally translates as "many gods" into a catholic church is the sort of bullshit that just makes me despair about the future of humanity.
-
-<img class="picfull" src="[[base_url]]2011/rome-cynical-pantheon.jpg" alt="Self portrait of cynicism, Pantheon Rome, Italy" />
-
-So instead of really getting into the sights of Rome we got into the food. Not the kind you get in restaurants, but the kind you find at the local market. Every afternoon we walked half a block down the street from our apartment to a small produce stand. It wasn't even a nice produce market, just an ordinary produce stand in a residential neighborhood with a mediocre selection. And it was the best damn produce I've ever purchased.
-
-Each afternoon we bought nearly 2 kilos worth of zucchini, eggplant, lemon and greens. For under 2 euro. At the worst exchange rates that's about $2.80 for 4 pounds of produce. You can hardly buy a dozen bananas for that price in the U.S.
-
-The only spices at the apartment where we stayed were salt and pepper. There was also some ordinary, cheap olive oil, which happens to be ten times better than the most expensive olive oil I've seen in the United States. But you don't need extensive spices and fancy oils when the ingredients you start with are high quality. I sauteed everything in a generous splash of olive oil with a bit of salt and pepper and it was the best zucchini, eggplant and beef I've ever made, or had for that matter.
-
-<img class="picfull" src="[[base_url]]2011/rome-cooking.jpg" alt="zuchinni, eggplant, greens, Rome, Italy" />
-
-And I'm far from a great cook. I learned a few things working under talented cooks like <a href="http://www.fiveandten.com/chef.html">Hugh Acheson</a> and Chuck Ramsey, but even if you barely know how to scramble eggs, you could make the same thing I made in Rome. Good ingredients are all you really need, and the raw cooking materials of Italy are the best I've seen in all my travels.
-
-In the end Italy and I didn't really get along, but the food redeemed it for me. The restaurants are good, but if you really want to experience the glory of Italian food you need to head to the market, grab some utterly amazing raw ingredients and whip up something yourself. This is what food is supposed to be, simple, fresh and great.
-
-Now hold my calls, I'm off to lie in a hammock somewhere in Indonesia.
-
-<ol class="footnote">
-<li id="fn-001">
-<p><span class="note1">1. I know I know. Terrible. Never use your ATM card after hours. The lesson here is that even if you spend years wandering the globe, you're still, at the end of the day, an idiot. Luckily I got it back the next day without too much hassle.</span><a href="#fnr-001" class="footnoteBackLink" title="Jump back to footnote 1 in the text.">↩</a></p>
-</li>
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Your feet are stepping on the same stones that someone more or less just like you stepped on thousands of years earlier, hurrying to work, or out for an evening stroll, perhaps stopping into some restaurant, some shop, some market, some temple. </p> -<p>I've been fortunate enough to wander such streets in several places, <a href="http://luxagraf.net/2006/mar/21/angkor-wat/">Angkor Wat</a> in Cambodia, Teotihuacán in Mexico City and now Pompeii here in Italy. What's remarkable about the experience is not the age, but the gap between then and now, which feels simultaneously immense and yet very small at the same time.</p> -<p>It feels small because when you wander around places like Pompeii you realize that human beings have changed very little over what seems like, to us anyway, vast expanses of time. Pompeii had the same elements of cities today, a central square, markets, temples, government offices, even fast food. Not much has changed over the years, though togas aren't much in vogue these days.</p> -<div class="figure"> -<amp-img alt="Fast food restaurant cric 79 AD, Pompeii, Italy" height="337" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/pompeiifastfood.jpg" width="550"></amp-img> -<span class="legend">Fast food, Pompeii style.</span> -</div> -<p><break></break></p> -<p>At the same time you can't help but notice the chariot ruts in the stones, the smooth polish of well-worn streets that obviously saw centuries of use even before they were buried. </p> -<p>Chariot ruts. That was a long time ago. So close, and yet so very far away.</p> -<p>There are two remarkable things about Pompeii that make it different from the crumbling ruins of other civilizations I've been to. The first is that Pompeii was not some religious site, not a sacred place at all. It was just a town. Something of a resort town, but still a commercial center. People made and sold wine and garum. Government offices kept track of grain and fish and people frequented fast food joints and brothels. In a word, Pompeii was ordinary, and when it comes to archeological sites open to the public, that's unusual.</p> -<p>The other reason Pompeii is different is of course that it was preserved by the very thing that destroyed it. Pompeii lay buried under ash for nearly 2000 years, preserved just as it was on the morning of August 24, 79 AD when Mount Vesuvius erupted.</p> -<p>The vast majority of the some 20,000 people that once lived in the city were able to escape the blast. Around 2,000 people, for whatever reason, did not run away and were killed by poisonous gases from the eruption. When the ash descended it buried them where they lay, under twenty five feet of debris. </p> -<p><amp-img alt="plaster body cast, Pompeii, Italy" height="404" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/pompeiiplaster.jpg" width="280"></amp-img>Thanks to an ingenious idea by an Italian archaeologist in the mid 19th century, their final poses have been preserved in plaster. When the bodies at Pompeii were buried they decayed, eventually turning to mostly dust, as all of us will, but that left empty spaces in the hardening ash. Archaeologists found those empty spaces, poured in plaster, let it set, and then excavated around it -- a perfect mold of the dead body. </p> -<p>The creepy thing about the plaster casts is how perfectly they capture the expressions of terror, horror, and sometimes, what looks like resignation, on people's faces. It's yet another bizarre way that Pompeii manages to both bridge time and remind you how vast that bridge between then and now really is. The casts are people, nearly 2000 year old people, but they could easily have been formed in some disaster today.</p> -<p>Sadly, the perfectly perserved version of Pompeii that archeologists found in 1748 has been in steady decline ever since. The minute they began excavating it, Pompeii began to fall victim to the forces of time that it had so neatly avoided under all that ash. Weathering, erosion, light exposure, water damage, poor methods of excavation and reconstruction and introduced plants and animals have all taken their toll, to say nothing of tourism, vandalism and theft. </p> -<p>Italy being Italy, Pompeii is in a steady state of decline. Just last year an entire house -- admittedly, not one open to the public -- collapsed thanks to water seeping under it. </p> -<p>That's why, at this point, Pompeii is largely just walls, stone roads and a handful of marble structures. The frescos, statues and even most of the plaster death molds have long since been carted off to the archeological museum in Naples where you can see elaborate mosaics and the ever-popular "Gabinetto Segreto", otherwise known as the erotic art of Pompeii.</p> -<p><amp-img alt="plaster body cast, Pompeii, Italy" height="370" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/pompeiierotic.jpg" width="357"></amp-img>Some of the erotic frescos and sculptures were pulled out of the brothels, while others were in private homes and baths. To say the ancient Romans were a sex-obsessed bunch would be to, as most guides at Pompeii seem to do, apply current sexual mores to ancient times. There were brothels in Pompeii, that much is indisputable. But beyond that, to suggest, as many guides I overheard did, that the more (currently) taboo frescos of gay and lesbian sex (or the sculpture of a man having sex with a goat) were jokes intended to make brothel patrons chuckle, seems a stretch -- pure conjecture really. Who knows what they were for? </p> -<p>It's all guess work at this point. Even if you turn to writing from the time, well now you have one more opinion, one author's take on the times, but still no real sense of what the culture thought. It is a long way from here to there, there's just no getting around that.</p> -<p>Yet, maybe it isn't. Beliefs change, morals change, but people, they seem to stay basically the same. Suppose <a href="http://luxagraf.net/2011/jan/18/charleston-a-z/">Charleston</a> or even New York were buried under ash tomorrow, left as they are today for an eternity. Would people 2000 years from now accurately reconstruct our way of life? </p> -<p>They might get the gist of it -- we lived in buildings, we had other buildings for worshiping gods and still others for buying kebabs, but they would miss the finer points. Yet, even without the subtleties they would know one thing for sure: these were people, human beings, and they lived more or less like us. </p> -<p>Whether you drive chariots or scooters doesn't matter, something is always marking our passing, something is always making ruts in the road. 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By Scott Gilbertson" -} -</script> - -</head> -<body > - <div class="wrapper" id="wrapper"> - <div class="header-wrapper"> - <header class="site-banner"> - <div id="logo"> - <a href="/" title="Home">Luxagraf</a> - <span class="sitesubtitle">Walk Slowly</span> - </div> - <nav> - <ul> - <li><a href="/jrnl/" title="Stories of life on the road.">Jrnl</a> & <a href="/field-notes/" title="Short stories, snapshots of daily life on the road.">Field Notes</a></li> - <li><a href="/guide/" title="Advice, Tools, Tips and Tricks for Full Time Van or RV Life.">Guides</a></li> - <li><a href="/newsletter/" title="The 'friends of a long year' newsletter">newsletter</a></li> - <li><a href="/about" title="About Scott">About</a></li> - </ul> - </nav> - </header> - </div> - <ol class="bl" id="breadcrumbs" itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/BreadcrumbList"> - <li itemprop="itemListElement" itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ListItem"><a itemprop="item" href="/"><span itemprop="name">Home</span></a> → - <meta itemprop="position" content="1" /> - </li> - <li itemprop="itemListElement" itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ListItem"> - - <a href="/jrnl/" itemprop="item"><span itemprop="name">jrnl</span></a> - <meta itemprop="position" content="2" /> - <meta itemprop="position" content="2" /> - </li> - </ol> - - - <main> - <article class="h-entry hentry entry-content content" itemscope itemType="http://schema.org/BlogPosting"> - <header id="header" class="post-header "> - <h1 class="p-name entry-title post-title" itemprop="headline">Forever Today</h1> - - <div class="post-linewrapper"> - <div class="p-location h-adr adr post-location" itemprop="contentLocation" itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/Place"> - <h3 class="h-adr" itemprop="address" itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/PostalAddress"><span class="p-region" itemprop="addressRegion">Pompeii</span>, <a class="p-country-name country-name" href="/jrnl/italy/" title="travel writing from Italy"><span itemprop="addressCountry">Italy</span></a></h3> - – <a href="" onclick="showMap(40.75211491821789, 14.480285518306573, { type:'point', lat:'40.75211491821789', lon:'14.480285518306573'}); return false;" title="see a map">Map</a> - </div> - <time class="dt-published published dt-updated post-date" datetime="2011-06-07T17:50:00" itemprop="datePublished">June <span>7, 2011</span></time> - <span class="hide" itemprop="author" itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/Person">by <a class="p-author h-card" href="/about"><span itemprop="name">Scott Gilbertson</span></a></span> - </div> - </header> - <div id="article" class="e-content entry-content post--body post--body--single" itemprop="articleBody"> - <p><span class="drop">T</span>here is something utterly amazing about walking down streets that are millennia old. Your feet are stepping on the same stones that someone more or less just like you stepped on thousands of years earlier, hurrying to work, or out for an evening stroll, perhaps stopping into some restaurant, some shop, some market, some temple. </p> -<p>I’ve been fortunate enough to wander such streets in several places, <a href="http://luxagraf.net/2006/mar/21/angkor-wat/">Angkor Wat</a> in Cambodia, Teotihuacán in Mexico City and now Pompeii here in Italy. What’s remarkable about the experience is not the age, but the gap between then and now, which feels simultaneously immense and yet very small at the same time.</p> -<p>It feels small because when you wander around places like Pompeii you realize that human beings have changed very little over what seems like, to us anyway, vast expanses of time. Pompeii had the same elements of cities today, a central square, markets, temples, government offices, even fast food. Not much has changed over the years, though togas aren’t much in vogue these days.</p> -<div class="figure"> - <img alt="Fast food restaurant cric 79 AD, Pompeii, Italy" src="[[base_url]]2011/pompeiifastfood.jpg"/> - <span class="legend">Fast food, Pompeii style.</span> -</div> - -<p><break></p> -<p>At the same time you can’t help but notice the chariot ruts in the stones, the smooth polish of well-worn streets that obviously saw centuries of use even before they were buried. </p> -<p>Chariot ruts. That was a long time ago. So close, and yet so very far away.</p> -<p>There are two remarkable things about Pompeii that make it different from the crumbling ruins of other civilizations I’ve been to. The first is that Pompeii was not some religious site, not a sacred place at all. It was just a town. Something of a resort town, but still a commercial center. People made and sold wine and garum. Government offices kept track of grain and fish and people frequented fast food joints and brothels. In a word, Pompeii was ordinary, and when it comes to archeological sites open to the public, that’s unusual.</p> -<p>The other reason Pompeii is different is of course that it was preserved by the very thing that destroyed it. Pompeii lay buried under ash for nearly 2000 years, preserved just as it was on the morning of August 24, 79 AD when Mount Vesuvius erupted.</p> -<p>The vast majority of the some 20,000 people that once lived in the city were able to escape the blast. Around 2,000 people, for whatever reason, did not run away and were killed by poisonous gases from the eruption. When the ash descended it buried them where they lay, under twenty five feet of debris. </p> -<p><img alt="plaster body cast, Pompeii, Italy" class="postpic" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/pompeiiplaster.jpg"/>Thanks to an ingenious idea by an Italian archaeologist in the mid 19th century, their final poses have been preserved in plaster. When the bodies at Pompeii were buried they decayed, eventually turning to mostly dust, as all of us will, but that left empty spaces in the hardening ash. Archaeologists found those empty spaces, poured in plaster, let it set, and then excavated around it — a perfect mold of the dead body. </p> -<p>The creepy thing about the plaster casts is how perfectly they capture the expressions of terror, horror, and sometimes, what looks like resignation, on people’s faces. It’s yet another bizarre way that Pompeii manages to both bridge time and remind you how vast that bridge between then and now really is. The casts are people, nearly 2000 year old people, but they could easily have been formed in some disaster today.</p> -<p>Sadly, the perfectly perserved version of Pompeii that archeologists found in 1748 has been in steady decline ever since. The minute they began excavating it, Pompeii began to fall victim to the forces of time that it had so neatly avoided under all that ash. Weathering, erosion, light exposure, water damage, poor methods of excavation and reconstruction and introduced plants and animals have all taken their toll, to say nothing of tourism, vandalism and theft. </p> -<p>Italy being Italy, Pompeii is in a steady state of decline. Just last year an entire house — admittedly, not one open to the public — collapsed thanks to water seeping under it. </p> -<p>That’s why, at this point, Pompeii is largely just walls, stone roads and a handful of marble structures. The frescos, statues and even most of the plaster death molds have long since been carted off to the archeological museum in Naples where you can see elaborate mosaics and the ever-popular “Gabinetto Segreto”, otherwise known as the erotic art of Pompeii.</p> -<p><img alt="plaster body cast, Pompeii, Italy" class="postpicright" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/pompeiierotic.jpg"/>Some of the erotic frescos and sculptures were pulled out of the brothels, while others were in private homes and baths. To say the ancient Romans were a sex-obsessed bunch would be to, as most guides at Pompeii seem to do, apply current sexual mores to ancient times. There were brothels in Pompeii, that much is indisputable. But beyond that, to suggest, as many guides I overheard did, that the more (currently) taboo frescos of gay and lesbian sex (or the sculpture of a man having sex with a goat) were jokes intended to make brothel patrons chuckle, seems a stretch — pure conjecture really. Who knows what they were for? </p> -<p>It’s all guess work at this point. Even if you turn to writing from the time, well now you have one more opinion, one author’s take on the times, but still no real sense of what the culture thought. It is a long way from here to there, there’s just no getting around that.</p> -<p>Yet, maybe it isn’t. Beliefs change, morals change, but people, they seem to stay basically the same. Suppose <a href="http://luxagraf.net/2011/jan/18/charleston-a-z/">Charleston</a> or even New York were buried under ash tomorrow, left as they are today for an eternity. Would people 2000 years from now accurately reconstruct our way of life? </p> -<p>They might get the gist of it — we lived in buildings, we had other buildings for worshiping gods and still others for buying kebabs, but they would miss the finer points. Yet, even without the subtleties they would know one thing for sure: these were people, human beings, and they lived more or less like us. </p> -<p>Whether you drive chariots or scooters doesn’t matter, something is always marking our passing, something is always making ruts in the road. And sometimes that’s all you need to know.</p> - </div> - - </article> - - - <div class="nav-wrapper"> - <nav id="page-navigation" class="page-border-top"> - <ul> - <li id="prev"><span class="bl">Previous:</span> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/06/new-pollution" rel="prev" title=" The New Pollution">The New Pollution</a> - </li> - <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/06/natural-science" rel="next" title=" Natural Science">Natural Science</a> - </li> - </ul> - </nav> - </div> - - - - - - -<div class="comment--form--wrapper "> - -<div class="comment--form--header"> - <p class="hed">Thoughts?</p> - <p class="subhed">Please leave a reply:</p> -</div> -<form action="/comments/post/" method="post" class="comment--form"> - -<input type="hidden" name="rder" value="" /> - - - <input type="hidden" name="content_type" value="jrnl.entry" id="id_content_type"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="object_pk" value="123" id="id_object_pk"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833459" id="id_timestamp"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="87d14b0752c1e80291bceb4e0d2385aaadca31f2" id="id_security_hash"> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_name">Name:</label> - <input type="text" name="name" maxlength="50" required id="id_name"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_email">Email address:</label> - <input type="email" name="email" required id="id_email"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_url">URL:</label> - <input type="url" name="url" id="id_url"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_comment">Comment:</label> - <div class="textarea-rounded"><textarea name="comment" cols="40" rows="10" maxlength="3000" required id="id_comment"> -</textarea></div> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset style="display:none;"> - <label for="id_honeypot">If you enter anything in this field your comment will be treated as spam:</label> - <input type="text" name="honeypot" id="id_honeypot"> - </fieldset> - - - <div class="submit"> - <input type="submit" name="post" class="submit-post btn" value="Post" /> - <input type="submit" name="preview" class="submit-preview btn" value="Preview" /> - </div> -</form> -<p style="font-size: 95%;"><strong>All comments are moderated</strong>, so you won’t see it right away. 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Your feet are stepping on the same stones that someone more or less just like you stepped on thousands of years earlier, hurrying to work, or out for an evening stroll, perhaps stopping into some restaurant, some shop, some market, some temple.
-
-I've been fortunate enough to wander such streets in several places, [Angkor Wat][1] in Cambodia, Teotihuacán in Mexico City and now Pompeii here in Italy. What's remarkable about the experience is not the age, but the gap between then and now, which feels simultaneously immense and yet very small at the same time.
-
-It feels small because when you wander around places like Pompeii you realize that human beings have changed very little over what seems like, to us anyway, vast expanses of time. Pompeii had the same elements of cities today, a central square, markets, temples, government offices, even fast food. Not much has changed over the years, though togas aren't much in vogue these days.
-
-<div class="figure">
- <img src="[[base_url]]2011/pompeiifastfood.jpg" alt="Fast food restaurant cric 79 AD, Pompeii, Italy" />
- <span class="legend">Fast food, Pompeii style.</span>
-</div>
-
-<break>
-
-At the same time you can't help but notice the chariot ruts in the stones, the smooth polish of well-worn streets that obviously saw centuries of use even before they were buried.
-
-Chariot ruts. That was a long time ago. So close, and yet so very far away.
-
-There are two remarkable things about Pompeii that make it different from the crumbling ruins of other civilizations I've been to. The first is that Pompeii was not some religious site, not a sacred place at all. It was just a town. Something of a resort town, but still a commercial center. People made and sold wine and garum. Government offices kept track of grain and fish and people frequented fast food joints and brothels. In a word, Pompeii was ordinary, and when it comes to archeological sites open to the public, that's unusual.
-
-The other reason Pompeii is different is of course that it was preserved by the very thing that destroyed it. Pompeii lay buried under ash for nearly 2000 years, preserved just as it was on the morning of August 24, 79 AD when Mount Vesuvius erupted.
-
-The vast majority of the some 20,000 people that once lived in the city were able to escape the blast. Around 2,000 people, for whatever reason, did not run away and were killed by poisonous gases from the eruption. When the ash descended it buried them where they lay, under twenty five feet of debris.
-
-<img class="postpic" src="[[base_url]]2011/pompeiiplaster.jpg" alt="plaster body cast, Pompeii, Italy" />Thanks to an ingenious idea by an Italian archaeologist in the mid 19th century, their final poses have been preserved in plaster. When the bodies at Pompeii were buried they decayed, eventually turning to mostly dust, as all of us will, but that left empty spaces in the hardening ash. Archaeologists found those empty spaces, poured in plaster, let it set, and then excavated around it -- a perfect mold of the dead body.
-
-The creepy thing about the plaster casts is how perfectly they capture the expressions of terror, horror, and sometimes, what looks like resignation, on people's faces. It's yet another bizarre way that Pompeii manages to both bridge time and remind you how vast that bridge between then and now really is. The casts are people, nearly 2000 year old people, but they could easily have been formed in some disaster today.
-
-Sadly, the perfectly perserved version of Pompeii that archeologists found in 1748 has been in steady decline ever since. The minute they began excavating it, Pompeii began to fall victim to the forces of time that it had so neatly avoided under all that ash. Weathering, erosion, light exposure, water damage, poor methods of excavation and reconstruction and introduced plants and animals have all taken their toll, to say nothing of tourism, vandalism and theft.
-
-Italy being Italy, Pompeii is in a steady state of decline. Just last year an entire house -- admittedly, not one open to the public -- collapsed thanks to water seeping under it.
-
-That's why, at this point, Pompeii is largely just walls, stone roads and a handful of marble structures. The frescos, statues and even most of the plaster death molds have long since been carted off to the archeological museum in Naples where you can see elaborate mosaics and the ever-popular "Gabinetto Segreto", otherwise known as the erotic art of Pompeii.
-
-<img class="postpicright" src="[[base_url]]2011/pompeiierotic.jpg" alt="plaster body cast, Pompeii, Italy" />Some of the erotic frescos and sculptures were pulled out of the brothels, while others were in private homes and baths. To say the ancient Romans were a sex-obsessed bunch would be to, as most guides at Pompeii seem to do, apply current sexual mores to ancient times. There were brothels in Pompeii, that much is indisputable. But beyond that, to suggest, as many guides I overheard did, that the more (currently) taboo frescos of gay and lesbian sex (or the sculpture of a man having sex with a goat) were jokes intended to make brothel patrons chuckle, seems a stretch -- pure conjecture really. Who knows what they were for?
-
-It's all guess work at this point. Even if you turn to writing from the time, well now you have one more opinion, one author's take on the times, but still no real sense of what the culture thought. It is a long way from here to there, there's just no getting around that.
-
-Yet, maybe it isn't. Beliefs change, morals change, but people, they seem to stay basically the same. Suppose [Charleston][2] or even New York were buried under ash tomorrow, left as they are today for an eternity. Would people 2000 years from now accurately reconstruct our way of life?
-
-They might get the gist of it -- we lived in buildings, we had other buildings for worshiping gods and still others for buying kebabs, but they would miss the finer points. Yet, even without the subtleties they would know one thing for sure: these were people, human beings, and they lived more or less like us.
-
-Whether you drive chariots or scooters doesn't matter, something is always marking our passing, something is always making ruts in the road. And sometimes that's all you need to know.
-
-
-
-
-[1]: http://luxagraf.net/2006/mar/21/angkor-wat/
-[2]: http://luxagraf.net/2011/jan/18/charleston-a-z/ diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/index.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/index.html deleted file mode 100644 index 36188e4..0000000 --- a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/index.html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,125 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> - -<head> - <title>Luxagraf - Topografical Writings: Archive</title> - <meta charset="utf-8"> - <meta http-equiv="x-ua-compatible" content="ie=edge"> - <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> - <meta name="description" - content="Luxagraf: recording journeys around the world and just next door."> - <meta name="author" content="Scott Gilbertson"> - <!--[if IE]> - <script src="/js/html5css3ie.min.js"></script> - <![endif]--> - <link rel="alternate" - type="application/rss+xml" - title="Luxagraf RSS feed" - href="https://luxagraf.net/rss/"> - <link rel="stylesheet" - href="/media/screenv8.css" - media="screen"> - <!--[if IE]> - <link rel="stylesheet" - 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It knows I didn't come here for it, I came here to see some friends, none of them even from Paris, and to show my wife a world I knew before we were married. I never came for Paris itself and the city knows it. And it's angry.</p> -<p>Cities can get angry at you. This isn't the first time it's happened to me. New York threw me out once. Los Angeles and I left on mutually hostile terms, though we've since made up. Cities have personalities just like people, and to really be part of a city your personalities have to mesh, you have to find each other on your own terms everyday<sup id="fnref:1"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:1" rel="footnote">1</a></sup>.</p> -<p>Paris is jealous and possessive, wants you all to itself. This time around I set out to see all the things I had seen before, <a href="http://luxagraf.net/2005/oct/28/sainte-chapelle/">St. Chapelle</a>, my favorite cafes in the Marais, the Louvre, Pere Lachaise. There was very little new ground broken. Which is not to say <a href="http://luxagraf.net/2008/jun/30/you-cant-go-home-again/">you can't go back again</a>. You can if you do it right, so long as you realize that while a place may be familiar, it is always something new. Sometimes it's even just like the last time, but the danger is that your agenda gets in the way of what the place is trying to say. What you hear today is not what you heard yesterday, not what you might hear tomorrow. When you repeat too much you fail to give more of yourself, you're asking the city to perform for you like a trained seal.</p> -<p><amp-img alt="Stained glass, St. Chapelle, Paris, France" height="642" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/stchappelle.jpg" width="960"></amp-img></p> -<p>When you fail to give them everything, cities bite back. In Paris it started with stomach sickness, a day alternating between the bed and toilet. Then it moved on to headaches, but it wasn't until a cop kicked us off the Pont Des Arts bridge for drinking beer that I realized the problem wasn't me, it was that the city was unhappy with me. </p> -<p>Sure there are probably causal explanations for the runs, something I ate perhaps, or the headaches -- allergies, a stiff mattress -- but if you think causality explains the sum total of the world, your life will never be very interesting.</p> -<p>For me the truth is this: I went to Paris with my own agenda -- repeat what I had loved about it six years ago -- and that's just a recipe for personal disaster. Even though Paris did deliver everything I asked of it, it exacted a price on me. My most memorable moments of this visit will be the shower stall opposite the toilet in our (very lovely by the way) apartment, which I spent far too much time staring at.</p> -<p>That's not how you want to travel the world. What you want is irrelevant to the world. You ask for greatest hits and the world will give you toilets to hug. Ask nothing and it will give you everything. Paris wanted me and my agenda disrupted, brought around to the larger agenda, the world's agenda.</p> -<p>Unfortunately it took until nearly the last minute before I realized this essential truth. But the minute the plane to Rome tucked its landing gear into the fuselage I started to feel better. Too little, too late. Next time Paris, next time, I will remember what you have taught me.</p> -<div class="footnote"> -<hr/> -<ol> -<li id="fn:1"> -<p>If you've never seen <cite>The Cruise</cite>, go rent/netflix it. Tim Levich, odd though he made seem on film, knows about these things. <a class="footnote-backref" href="#fnref:1" rev="footnote" title="Jump back to footnote 1 in the text">↩</a></p> -</li> -</ol> -</div> - </div> - </article> -</main> - -</body> -</html> diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/language-cities.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/language-cities.html deleted file mode 100644 index 5fdf1f3..0000000 --- a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/language-cities.html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,344 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html -class="detail single dark" dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> - -<head> - <title>The Language Of Cities - by Scott Gilbertson</title> - <meta charset="utf-8"> - <meta http-equiv="x-ua-compatible" content="ie=edge"> - <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> - <meta name="description" - content="Paris is angry. That happens sometimes. Cities get angry at you. Right now, Paris wants me out. 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It knows I didn’t come here for it, I came here to see some friends, none of them even from Paris, and to show my wife a world I knew before we were married. I never came for Paris itself and the city knows it. And it’s angry.</p> -<p>Cities can get angry at you. This isn’t the first time it’s happened to me. New York threw me out once. Los Angeles and I left on mutually hostile terms, though we’ve since made up. Cities have personalities just like people, and to really be part of a city your personalities have to mesh, you have to find each other on your own terms everyday<sup id="fnref:1"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:1" rel="footnote">1</a></sup>.</p> -<p>Paris is jealous and possessive, wants you all to itself. This time around I set out to see all the things I had seen before, <a href="http://luxagraf.net/2005/oct/28/sainte-chapelle/">St. Chapelle</a>, my favorite cafes in the Marais, the Louvre, Pere Lachaise. There was very little new ground broken. Which is not to say <a href="http://luxagraf.net/2008/jun/30/you-cant-go-home-again/">you can’t go back again</a>. You can if you do it right, so long as you realize that while a place may be familiar, it is always something new. Sometimes it’s even just like the last time, but the danger is that your agenda gets in the way of what the place is trying to say. What you hear today is not what you heard yesterday, not what you might hear tomorrow. When you repeat too much you fail to give more of yourself, you’re asking the city to perform for you like a trained seal.</p> -<p><img alt="Stained glass, St. Chapelle, Paris, France" class="picwide" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/stchappelle.jpg"/></p> -<p>When you fail to give them everything, cities bite back. In Paris it started with stomach sickness, a day alternating between the bed and toilet. Then it moved on to headaches, but it wasn’t until a cop kicked us off the Pont Des Arts bridge for drinking beer that I realized the problem wasn’t me, it was that the city was unhappy with me. </p> -<p>Sure there are probably causal explanations for the runs, something I ate perhaps, or the headaches — allergies, a stiff mattress — but if you think causality explains the sum total of the world, your life will never be very interesting.</p> -<p>For me the truth is this: I went to Paris with my own agenda — repeat what I had loved about it six years ago — and that’s just a recipe for personal disaster. Even though Paris did deliver everything I asked of it, it exacted a price on me. My most memorable moments of this visit will be the shower stall opposite the toilet in our (very lovely by the way) apartment, which I spent far too much time staring at.</p> -<p>That’s not how you want to travel the world. What you want is irrelevant to the world. You ask for greatest hits and the world will give you toilets to hug. Ask nothing and it will give you everything. Paris wanted me and my agenda disrupted, brought around to the larger agenda, the world’s agenda.</p> -<p>Unfortunately it took until nearly the last minute before I realized this essential truth. But the minute the plane to Rome tucked its landing gear into the fuselage I started to feel better. Too little, too late. Next time Paris, next time, I will remember what you have taught me.</p> -<div class="footnote"> -<hr> -<ol> -<li id="fn:1"> -<p>If you’ve never seen <cite>The Cruise</cite>, go rent/netflix it. Tim Levich, odd though he made seem on film, knows about these things. <a class="footnote-backref" href="#fnref:1" rev="footnote" title="Jump back to footnote 1 in the text">↩</a></p> -</li> -</ol> -</div> - </div> - - </article> - - - <div class="nav-wrapper"> - <nav id="page-navigation" class="page-border-top"> - <ul> - <li id="prev"><span class="bl">Previous:</span> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/05/from-here-we-go-sublime" rel="prev" title=" From Here We Go Sublime">From Here We Go Sublime</a> - </li> - <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/06/new-pollution" rel="next" title=" The New Pollution">The New Pollution</a> - </li> - </ul> - </nav> - </div> - - - - - - -<div class="comment--form--wrapper "> - -<div class="comment--form--header"> - <p class="hed">Thoughts?</p> - <p class="subhed">Please leave a reply:</p> -</div> -<form action="/comments/post/" method="post" class="comment--form"> - -<input type="hidden" name="rder" value="" /> - - - <input type="hidden" name="content_type" value="jrnl.entry" id="id_content_type"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="object_pk" value="121" id="id_object_pk"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833460" id="id_timestamp"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="daa7264ca126c8aa31595260e986b403e6f82206" id="id_security_hash"> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_name">Name:</label> - <input type="text" name="name" maxlength="50" required id="id_name"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_email">Email address:</label> - <input type="email" name="email" required id="id_email"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_url">URL:</label> - <input type="url" name="url" id="id_url"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_comment">Comment:</label> - <div class="textarea-rounded"><textarea name="comment" cols="40" rows="10" maxlength="3000" required id="id_comment"> -</textarea></div> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset style="display:none;"> - <label for="id_honeypot">If you enter anything in this field your comment will be treated as spam:</label> - <input type="text" name="honeypot" id="id_honeypot"> - </fieldset> - - - <div class="submit"> - <input type="submit" name="post" class="submit-post btn" value="Post" /> - <input type="submit" name="preview" class="submit-preview btn" value="Preview" /> - </div> -</form> -<p style="font-size: 95%;"><strong>All comments are moderated</strong>, so you won’t see it right away. 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It knows I didn't come here for it, I came here to see some friends, none of them even from Paris, and to show my wife a world I knew before we were married. I never came for Paris itself and the city knows it. And it's angry.
-
-Cities can get angry at you. This isn't the first time it's happened to me. New York threw me out once. Los Angeles and I left on mutually hostile terms, though we've since made up. Cities have personalities just like people, and to really be part of a city your personalities have to mesh, you have to find each other on your own terms everyday[^1].
-
-Paris is jealous and possessive, wants you all to itself. This time around I set out to see all the things I had seen before, [St. Chapelle][1], my favorite cafes in the Marais, the Louvre, Pere Lachaise. There was very little new ground broken. Which is not to say [you can't go back again][2]. You can if you do it right, so long as you realize that while a place may be familiar, it is always something new. Sometimes it's even just like the last time, but the danger is that your agenda gets in the way of what the place is trying to say. What you hear today is not what you heard yesterday, not what you might hear tomorrow. When you repeat too much you fail to give more of yourself, you're asking the city to perform for you like a trained seal.
-
-<img class="picwide" src="[[base_url]]2011/stchappelle.jpg" alt="Stained glass, St. Chapelle, Paris, France" />
-
-When you fail to give them everything, cities bite back. In Paris it started with stomach sickness, a day alternating between the bed and toilet. Then it moved on to headaches, but it wasn't until a cop kicked us off the Pont Des Arts bridge for drinking beer that I realized the problem wasn't me, it was that the city was unhappy with me.
-
-Sure there are probably causal explanations for the runs, something I ate perhaps, or the headaches -- allergies, a stiff mattress -- but if you think causality explains the sum total of the world, your life will never be very interesting.
-
-For me the truth is this: I went to Paris with my own agenda -- repeat what I had loved about it six years ago -- and that's just a recipe for personal disaster. Even though Paris did deliver everything I asked of it, it exacted a price on me. My most memorable moments of this visit will be the shower stall opposite the toilet in our (very lovely by the way) apartment, which I spent far too much time staring at.
-
-That's not how you want to travel the world. What you want is irrelevant to the world. You ask for greatest hits and the world will give you toilets to hug. Ask nothing and it will give you everything. Paris wanted me and my agenda disrupted, brought around to the larger agenda, the world's agenda.
-
-Unfortunately it took until nearly the last minute before I realized this essential truth. But the minute the plane to Rome tucked its landing gear into the fuselage I started to feel better. Too little, too late. Next time Paris, next time, I will remember what you have taught me.
-
-[1]: http://luxagraf.net/2005/oct/28/sainte-chapelle/
-[2]: http://luxagraf.net/2008/jun/30/you-cant-go-home-again/
-
-[^1]: If you've never seen <cite>The Cruise</cite>, go rent/netflix it. Tim Levich, odd though he made seem on film, knows about these things. diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/motor-city-burning.amp b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/motor-city-burning.amp deleted file mode 100644 index 8964ffb..0000000 --- a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/motor-city-burning.amp +++ /dev/null @@ -1,185 +0,0 @@ - - -<!doctype html> -<html amp lang="en"> -<head> -<meta charset="utf-8"> -<title>Motor City is Burning</title> -<link rel="canonical" href="https://luxagraf.net/jrnl/2011/06/motor-city-burning"> - <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width,initial-scale=1,minimum-scale=1"> - <meta name="twitter:card" content="summary_large_image"/> - <meta name="twitter:url" content="/jrnl/2011/06/motor-city-burning"> - <meta name="twitter:description" content="Awesome as it was to be back on a motorbike, riding Bali wasn't quite as relaxing as I what did in Laos and elsewhere. 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Now I'm sitting on a marble balcony, sipping lukewarm beer, listening to the gregarious chatter of various European languages, all of which could only mean one thing -- I've finally made it back to Southeast Asia.</p> -<p>It was a 36-hour plane flight to get from Rome to here. Or rather a 36-hour series of plane flights and layovers, including considerable time spent in the lovely Qatar airport, all of which meant that, thanks to the wonder of layovers and planetary rotation, we got to see the sun rise and set twice in one day. It'll do a number to your head, that.</p> -<p><break></break></p> -<p>We arrived in Bali in a jet-lagged daze and promptly hired a cab for Ubud the so-called cultural center of Bali, halfway up into the hills that fall away from Mt. Agung, the volcano that dominates the southern half of Bali, down to the seaside somewhere south of Ubud.</p> -<p><amp-img alt="Rice paddies outside of Ubud, Bali, Indonesia" height="367" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/ubud-ricepaddies1.jpg" width="550"></amp-img></p> -<p>Ubud was probably once a small village in the hills, but these days its more of a tourist mecca, thanks to some really awful western travel books that shall not be named. Ubud now sprawls out from the central crossroads up into neighboring villages pretty much erasing any discernible difference between Ubud and the dozen or so villages that surround it. </p> -<p>I won't lie to you. Ubud is crowded, in fact, all of Bali is crowded, with traffic like I've never seen anywhere else in Asia. Snarled roads mean incessant horns and shouts are the primary sounds of Bali. Interestingly, Ubud isn't nearly as crowded with tourists as I had expected, at least it wasn't while we were there. During the days the streets would fill up with tourists on day trips from the resorts down south in Kuta and Seminyak, both about 20-30km from Ubud (if you want some idea of the traffic in Bali consider that a 20-30km distance will take anywhere from one to two hours by car or motorbike), but in the evening, after the resort goers were safely back beach-side, Ubud seemed nearly empty.</p> -<p>The traffic and congestion of Bali isn't something you can blame on tourists, it's mainly just the Balinese going about their lives. It made for hectic bike riding, at least until you could get out of the center of Ubud. There was a lot of choking on diesel fumes and waiting or weaving through, traffic. </p> -<p>Once I got through the two main intersections of Ubud the traffic mostly gave way and I had the road to myself, save other motorbikes and heavily loaded down trucks. The countryside around Ubud is well worth riding through, beautiful terraced rice paddies that spill down the mountain sides, glowing a verdant green in the evening light. Over the course of four days I think I rode about 120K, in one case halfway up the side of Mt. Agung. </p> -<p><amp-img alt="Rice paddies outside of Ubud, Bali, Indonesia" height="367" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/ubud-ricepaddies2.jpg" width="550"></amp-img></p> -<p>The smoky wind alternates between choking and enticing as it whips about my helmet. But any choking is offset by the gorgeous soft twilight of the tropics, which kept me riding through village after village, each with it's own craft theme. One village would be all stone work, concrete fountains, sculptures of Buddha and countless pots and urns. The next might be wood carving, intricate masks, totem pole-like sculptures and ornate arched doors. The best were the weaving villages, brilliantly colored fabrics flowing out of a dozen small stone buildings, all of them eventually making their way down to Ubud for sale.</p> -<p>But awesome as it was to be back on the Asian version of a motorbike, it wasn't quite the relaxing riding I did in Laos and elsewhere. You can never recapture the magic, and I wasn't trying.... Okay, maybe I was, but it didn't work. regrettably Honda seems to have phased out the Dream in the last five years, replacing it with something called the Nitro, which just doesn't have the same ring to it. But the bike is irrelevant, was always irrelevant. I missed my friends, especially because I just saw Debi in Paris. It just wasn't the same riding by myself. Debi, Matt, where are you? There are roads to be ridden, locals with ten people on a bike to be humbled by. Six fingered men to be seen, <a href="http://luxagraf.net/2006/mar/07/ticket-ride/">by some</a>. </p> -<p>It wasn't the same. It never is. But you know what, it's amazing anyway. </p> - </div> - </article> -</main> - -</body> -</html> diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/motor-city-burning.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/motor-city-burning.html deleted file mode 100644 index dd15d5b..0000000 --- a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/motor-city-burning.html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,340 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html -class="detail single" dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> - -<head> - <title>Motor City Is Burning - by Scott Gilbertson</title> - <meta charset="utf-8"> - <meta http-equiv="x-ua-compatible" content="ie=edge"> - <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> - <meta name="description" - content="Awesome as it was to be back on a motorbike, riding Bali wasn't quite as relaxing as I what did in Laos and elsewhere. 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By Scott Gilbertson" -} -</script> - -</head> -<body > - <div class="wrapper" id="wrapper"> - <div class="header-wrapper"> - <header class="site-banner"> - <div id="logo"> - <a href="/" title="Home">Luxagraf</a> - <span class="sitesubtitle">Walk Slowly</span> - </div> - <nav> - <ul> - <li><a href="/jrnl/" title="Stories of life on the road.">Jrnl</a> & <a href="/field-notes/" title="Short stories, snapshots of daily life on the road.">Field Notes</a></li> - <li><a href="/guide/" title="Advice, Tools, Tips and Tricks for Full Time Van or RV Life.">Guides</a></li> - <li><a href="/newsletter/" title="The 'friends of a long year' newsletter">newsletter</a></li> - <li><a href="/about" title="About Scott">About</a></li> - </ul> - </nav> - </header> - </div> - <ol class="bl" id="breadcrumbs" itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/BreadcrumbList"> - <li itemprop="itemListElement" itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ListItem"><a itemprop="item" href="/"><span itemprop="name">Home</span></a> → - <meta itemprop="position" content="1" /> - </li> - <li itemprop="itemListElement" itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ListItem"> - - <a href="/jrnl/" itemprop="item"><span itemprop="name">jrnl</span></a> - <meta itemprop="position" content="2" /> - <meta itemprop="position" content="2" /> - </li> - </ol> - - - <main> - <article class="h-entry hentry entry-content content" itemscope itemType="http://schema.org/BlogPosting"> - <header id="header" class="post-header "> - <h1 class="p-name entry-title post-title" itemprop="headline">Motor City is Burning</h1> - - <div class="post-linewrapper"> - <div class="p-location h-adr adr post-location" itemprop="contentLocation" itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/Place"> - <h3 class="h-adr" itemprop="address" itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/PostalAddress"><span class="p-region" itemprop="addressRegion">Ubud, Bali</span>, <a class="p-country-name country-name" href="/jrnl/indonesia/" title="travel writing from Indonesia"><span itemprop="addressCountry">Indonesia</span></a></h3> - – <a href="" onclick="showMap(-8.512942106321157, 115.26119323594054, { type:'point', lat:'-8.512942106321157', lon:'115.26119323594054'}); return false;" title="see a map">Map</a> - </div> - <time class="dt-published published dt-updated post-date" datetime="2011-06-16T20:05:00" itemprop="datePublished">June <span>16, 2011</span></time> - <span class="hide" itemprop="author" itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/Person">by <a class="p-author h-card" href="/about"><span itemprop="name">Scott Gilbertson</span></a></span> - </div> - </header> - <div id="article" class="e-content entry-content post--body post--body--single" itemprop="articleBody"> - <p><span class="drop">I</span>’ve been out all afternoon on a motorbike. Now I’m sitting on a marble balcony, sipping lukewarm beer, listening to the gregarious chatter of various European languages, all of which could only mean one thing — I’ve finally made it back to Southeast Asia.</p> -<p>It was a 36-hour plane flight to get from Rome to here. Or rather a 36-hour series of plane flights and layovers, including considerable time spent in the lovely Qatar airport, all of which meant that, thanks to the wonder of layovers and planetary rotation, we got to see the sun rise and set twice in one day. It’ll do a number to your head, that.</p> -<p><break></p> -<p>We arrived in Bali in a jet-lagged daze and promptly hired a cab for Ubud the so-called cultural center of Bali, halfway up into the hills that fall away from Mt. Agung, the volcano that dominates the southern half of Bali, down to the seaside somewhere south of Ubud.</p> -<p><img alt="Rice paddies outside of Ubud, Bali, Indonesia" class="picfull" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/ubud-ricepaddies1.jpg"/></p> -<p>Ubud was probably once a small village in the hills, but these days its more of a tourist mecca, thanks to some really awful western travel books that shall not be named. Ubud now sprawls out from the central crossroads up into neighboring villages pretty much erasing any discernible difference between Ubud and the dozen or so villages that surround it. </p> -<p>I won’t lie to you. Ubud is crowded, in fact, all of Bali is crowded, with traffic like I’ve never seen anywhere else in Asia. Snarled roads mean incessant horns and shouts are the primary sounds of Bali. Interestingly, Ubud isn’t nearly as crowded with tourists as I had expected, at least it wasn’t while we were there. During the days the streets would fill up with tourists on day trips from the resorts down south in Kuta and Seminyak, both about 20-30km from Ubud (if you want some idea of the traffic in Bali consider that a 20-30km distance will take anywhere from one to two hours by car or motorbike), but in the evening, after the resort goers were safely back beach-side, Ubud seemed nearly empty.</p> -<p>The traffic and congestion of Bali isn’t something you can blame on tourists, it’s mainly just the Balinese going about their lives. It made for hectic bike riding, at least until you could get out of the center of Ubud. There was a lot of choking on diesel fumes and waiting or weaving through, traffic. </p> -<p>Once I got through the two main intersections of Ubud the traffic mostly gave way and I had the road to myself, save other motorbikes and heavily loaded down trucks. The countryside around Ubud is well worth riding through, beautiful terraced rice paddies that spill down the mountain sides, glowing a verdant green in the evening light. Over the course of four days I think I rode about 120K, in one case halfway up the side of Mt. Agung. </p> -<p><img alt="Rice paddies outside of Ubud, Bali, Indonesia" class="picfull" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/ubud-ricepaddies2.jpg"/></p> -<p>The smoky wind alternates between choking and enticing as it whips about my helmet. But any choking is offset by the gorgeous soft twilight of the tropics, which kept me riding through village after village, each with it’s own craft theme. One village would be all stone work, concrete fountains, sculptures of Buddha and countless pots and urns. The next might be wood carving, intricate masks, totem pole-like sculptures and ornate arched doors. The best were the weaving villages, brilliantly colored fabrics flowing out of a dozen small stone buildings, all of them eventually making their way down to Ubud for sale.</p> -<p>But awesome as it was to be back on the Asian version of a motorbike, it wasn’t quite the relaxing riding I did in Laos and elsewhere. You can never recapture the magic, and I wasn’t trying…. Okay, maybe I was, but it didn’t work. regrettably Honda seems to have phased out the Dream in the last five years, replacing it with something called the Nitro, which just doesn’t have the same ring to it. But the bike is irrelevant, was always irrelevant. I missed my friends, especially because I just saw Debi in Paris. It just wasn’t the same riding by myself. Debi, Matt, where are you? There are roads to be ridden, locals with ten people on a bike to be humbled by. Six fingered men to be seen, <a href="http://luxagraf.net/2006/mar/07/ticket-ride/">by some</a>. </p> -<p>It wasn’t the same. It never is. But you know what, it’s amazing anyway. </p> - </div> - - </article> - - - <div class="nav-wrapper"> - <nav id="page-navigation" class="page-border-top"> - <ul> - <li id="prev"><span class="bl">Previous:</span> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/06/cooking-rome" rel="prev" title=" Cooking in Rome">Cooking in Rome</a> - </li> - <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/06/temple-ceremony-ubud" rel="next" title=" The Balinese Temple Ceremony">The Balinese Temple Ceremony</a> - </li> - </ul> - </nav> - </div> - - - - - - -<div class="comment--form--wrapper "> - -<div class="comment--form--header"> - <p class="hed">Thoughts?</p> - <p class="subhed">Please leave a reply:</p> -</div> -<form action="/comments/post/" method="post" class="comment--form"> - -<input type="hidden" name="rder" value="" /> - - - <input type="hidden" name="content_type" value="jrnl.entry" id="id_content_type"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="object_pk" value="126" id="id_object_pk"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833459" id="id_timestamp"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="342184ae4bd7b108615e92ce26e43a1913671282" id="id_security_hash"> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_name">Name:</label> - <input type="text" name="name" maxlength="50" required id="id_name"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_email">Email address:</label> - <input type="email" name="email" required id="id_email"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_url">URL:</label> - <input type="url" name="url" id="id_url"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_comment">Comment:</label> - <div class="textarea-rounded"><textarea name="comment" cols="40" rows="10" maxlength="3000" required id="id_comment"> -</textarea></div> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset style="display:none;"> - <label for="id_honeypot">If you enter anything in this field your comment will be treated as spam:</label> - <input type="text" name="honeypot" id="id_honeypot"> - </fieldset> - - - <div class="submit"> - <input type="submit" name="post" class="submit-post btn" value="Post" /> - <input type="submit" name="preview" class="submit-preview btn" value="Preview" /> - </div> -</form> -<p style="font-size: 95%;"><strong>All comments are moderated</strong>, so you won’t see it right away. 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Now I'm sitting on a marble balcony, sipping lukewarm beer, listening to the gregarious chatter of various European languages, all of which could only mean one thing -- I've finally made it back to Southeast Asia.
-
-It was a 36-hour plane flight to get from Rome to here. Or rather a 36-hour series of plane flights and layovers, including considerable time spent in the lovely Qatar airport, all of which meant that, thanks to the wonder of layovers and planetary rotation, we got to see the sun rise and set twice in one day. It'll do a number to your head, that.
-
-<break>
-
-We arrived in Bali in a jet-lagged daze and promptly hired a cab for Ubud the so-called cultural center of Bali, halfway up into the hills that fall away from Mt. Agung, the volcano that dominates the southern half of Bali, down to the seaside somewhere south of Ubud.
-
-<img class="picfull" src="[[base_url]]2011/ubud-ricepaddies1.jpg" alt="Rice paddies outside of Ubud, Bali, Indonesia" />
-
-Ubud was probably once a small village in the hills, but these days its more of a tourist mecca, thanks to some really awful western travel books that shall not be named. Ubud now sprawls out from the central crossroads up into neighboring villages pretty much erasing any discernible difference between Ubud and the dozen or so villages that surround it.
-
-I won't lie to you. Ubud is crowded, in fact, all of Bali is crowded, with traffic like I've never seen anywhere else in Asia. Snarled roads mean incessant horns and shouts are the primary sounds of Bali. Interestingly, Ubud isn't nearly as crowded with tourists as I had expected, at least it wasn't while we were there. During the days the streets would fill up with tourists on day trips from the resorts down south in Kuta and Seminyak, both about 20-30km from Ubud (if you want some idea of the traffic in Bali consider that a 20-30km distance will take anywhere from one to two hours by car or motorbike), but in the evening, after the resort goers were safely back beach-side, Ubud seemed nearly empty.
-
-The traffic and congestion of Bali isn't something you can blame on tourists, it's mainly just the Balinese going about their lives. It made for hectic bike riding, at least until you could get out of the center of Ubud. There was a lot of choking on diesel fumes and waiting or weaving through, traffic.
-
-Once I got through the two main intersections of Ubud the traffic mostly gave way and I had the road to myself, save other motorbikes and heavily loaded down trucks. The countryside around Ubud is well worth riding through, beautiful terraced rice paddies that spill down the mountain sides, glowing a verdant green in the evening light. Over the course of four days I think I rode about 120K, in one case halfway up the side of Mt. Agung.
-
-<img class="picfull" src="[[base_url]]2011/ubud-ricepaddies2.jpg" alt="Rice paddies outside of Ubud, Bali, Indonesia" />
-
-The smoky wind alternates between choking and enticing as it whips about my helmet. But any choking is offset by the gorgeous soft twilight of the tropics, which kept me riding through village after village, each with it's own craft theme. One village would be all stone work, concrete fountains, sculptures of Buddha and countless pots and urns. The next might be wood carving, intricate masks, totem pole-like sculptures and ornate arched doors. The best were the weaving villages, brilliantly colored fabrics flowing out of a dozen small stone buildings, all of them eventually making their way down to Ubud for sale.
-
-But awesome as it was to be back on the Asian version of a motorbike, it wasn't quite the relaxing riding I did in Laos and elsewhere. You can never recapture the magic, and I wasn't trying.... Okay, maybe I was, but it didn't work. regrettably Honda seems to have phased out the Dream in the last five years, replacing it with something called the Nitro, which just doesn't have the same ring to it. But the bike is irrelevant, was always irrelevant. I missed my friends, especially because I just saw Debi in Paris. It just wasn't the same riding by myself. Debi, Matt, where are you? There are roads to be ridden, locals with ten people on a bike to be humbled by. Six fingered men to be seen, <a href="http://luxagraf.net/2006/mar/07/ticket-ride/">by some</a>.
-
-It wasn't the same. It never is. But you know what, it's amazing anyway. diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/natural-science.amp b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/natural-science.amp deleted file mode 100644 index 6cdcc75..0000000 --- a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/natural-science.amp +++ /dev/null @@ -1,194 +0,0 @@ - - -<!doctype html> -<html amp lang="en"> -<head> -<meta charset="utf-8"> -<title>Natural Science</title> -<link rel="canonical" href="https://luxagraf.net/jrnl/2011/06/natural-science"> - <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width,initial-scale=1,minimum-scale=1"> - <meta name="twitter:card" content="summary_large_image"/> - <meta name="twitter:url" content="/jrnl/2011/06/natural-science"> - <meta name="twitter:description" content="There's no way around it; Florence is crowded. Fortunately less well know museums like La Specola, rarely see visitors. By Scott Gilbertson"/> - <meta name="twitter:title" content="Natural Science"/> - <meta name="twitter:site" content="@luxagraf"/> - <meta name="twitter:domain" content="luxagraf"/> - <meta name="twitter:image:src" content="https://images.luxagraf.net/post-images/2011/florenceh.jpg"/> - <meta name="twitter:creator" content="@luxagraf"/> - <meta name="twitter:site:id" content="9469062"> - <meta name="twitter:creator:id" content="9469062"> - <meta name="twitter:description" content=""/> - - <meta name="geo.placename" content="Firenze (Florence), Italy"> - <meta name="geo.region" content="IT"> - <meta property="og:type" content="article" /> - <meta property="og:title" content="Natural Science" /> - <meta property="og:url" content="https://luxagraf.net/jrnl/2011/06/natural-science" /> - <meta property="og:description" content="There's no way around it; Florence is crowded. Fortunately less well know museums like La Specola, rarely see visitors. By Scott Gilbertson" /> - <meta property="article:published_time" content="2011-06-10T20:54:00" /> - <meta property="article:author" content="Luxagraf" /> - <meta property="og:site_name" content="Luxagraf" /> - <meta property="og:image" content="https://images.luxagraf.net/post-images/2011/florenceh.jpg" /> - <meta property="og:image" content="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/florence-river.jpg" /> - <meta property="og:image" content="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/florence-emptystreets.jpg" /> - <meta property="og:image" content="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/florence-museum-birds.jpg" /> - <meta property="og:image" content="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/florence-museum-cats.jpg" /> - <meta property="og:image" content="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/florence-museum-meat.jpg" /> - <meta property="og:locale" content="en_US" /> - - -<script type="application/ld+json"> -{ - "@context": "http://schema.org", - "@type": "BlogPosting", - "headline": "Natural Science", - "description": "There's no way around it; Florence is crowded. 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By Scott Gilbertson", - "datePublished": "2011-06-10T20:54:00", - "author": { - "@type": "Person", - "name": "Scott Gilbertson" - }, - "publisher": { - "@type": "Person", - "name": "Scott Gilbertson" - "logo": { - "@type": "ImageObject", - "url": "", - "width": 240, - "height": 53 - } - } -} -</script> -<style amp-custom> -body { - font-size: 1rem; - line-height: 1.73; - font-family: Georgia, serif; - background-color: #fff; - color: #333; - padding: 1em; -} -nav { - font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; - max-width: 60em; - margin: 0 auto; -} -main { - max-width: 60em; - margin: 0 auto; -} -main footer { - text-align: right; -} -a { - text-decoration: underline; - color: #c63; -} -nav a { - text-decoration: none; - text-transform: uppercase; - color: #222; -} -h1,h2,h3,h4,h5 { - line-height: 1; - font-weight: bold; -} -h1 { - font-size: 1.5rem; - color: #666; -} -h2 { - font-size: 1.125rem; - color: #555; -} -h3 { - font-size: 1rem; - color: #444; -} -h4 { - font-size: 0.875rem; -} -h5 { - font-size: 0.75rem; -} -h1 a, h1 a *, -h2 a, h2 a *, -h3 a, h3 a *, -h4 a, h4 a * { - text-decoration: none; - font-weight: bold -} -code { - font-size: 0.875rem; - font-family: "Courier New",monospace; -} -pre { - white-space: pre-wrap; - word-wrap: break-word; -} -blockquote { - font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; - font-size: 0.875rem; -} -blockquote * { - font-style: italic; -} -blockquote * em { - font-weight: bold; -} -blockquote * strong { - font-style: normal; -} -hr { - border: none; - border-bottom: 0.0625rem dotted #ccc; -} -.hide {display: none;} -</style> -<style>body {opacity: 0}</style><noscript><style>body {opacity: 1}</style></noscript> -<script async src="https://cdn.ampproject.org/v0.js"></script> -</head> -<body> - -<nav> -<a href="https://luxagraf.net/"> -luxagraf</a> -</nav> - -<main class="h-entry"> - <article class="h-entry hentry post--article post--article--double" itemscope itemType="http://schema.org/Article"> - <header id="header" class="post--header post--header--double"> - <h1 class="p-name entry-title post--title" itemprop="headline">Natural Science</h1> - <time class="dt-published published dt-updated post--date" datetime="2011-06-10T20:54:00" itemprop="datePublished">June <span>10, 2011</span></time> - <p class="p-author author hide" itemprop="author"><span class="byline-author" itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/Person"><span itemprop="name">Scott Gilbertson</span></span></p> - <aside class="p-location h-adr adr post--location" itemprop="contentLocation" itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/Place"> - <span class="p-region">Firenze (Florence)</span>, <a class="p-country-name country-name" href="/jrnl/italy/" title="travel writing from Italy">Italy</a> - </aside> - </header> - <div id="article" class="e-content entry-content post--body post--body--double" itemprop="articleBody"> - <div class="col"> -<p>There's no way around it; Florence is crowded. It may well be that <a href="http://luxagraf.net/2011/jun/06/new-pollution/" title="Naples the only Italian city without tourists">Naples is the only Italian city that isn't overrun with tourists</a> in the summer, but after three days of hardly seeing another traveler, I wasn't really prepared for the crowds in Florence.</p> -<p>Florence is, admittedly, more of what tourists expect Italy to be. There's no graffiti, the streets are free of trash and the city looks like something out of a fairy tale cliché -- narrow, winding streets, beautiful river walks and plenty of English-speaking waiters. And so they come.</p> -</div> -<p><amp-img alt="Afternoon light on the river, Firenze (Florence), Italy" height="369" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/florence-river.jpg" width="960"></amp-img></p> -<p><amp-img alt="Early morning streets, Firenze (Florence), Italy" height="300" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/florence-emptystreets.jpg" width="200"></amp-img><span class="drop-small">L</span>uckily it's never that hard to dodge crowds. Sometimes you head out to <a href="http://luxagraf.net/2006/mar/21/angkor-wat/">Angkor Wat in the sweltering midday heat</a>. In Florence you just need to get up early and the streets will be deserted. Once everyone else is up, head over to "La Specola", the Museum of Zoology, which is part of the Museo di Storia Naturale di Firenze. Zoology isn't something near the top of most must-see lists and in my experience, you'll pretty much have the place to yourself.</p> -<p>Of course how much you'll enjoy La Specola depends a little bit on how much you enjoy wandering through rooms filled with dead animals. My father taught biology and zoology for many years, so I grew up around dead animals, but clearly, La Specola is not for everyone. </p> -<p>Part of the appeal of the museum is simply the antique wooden cabinets used to house the various lions, leopards, monkeys, birds and butterflies. The old, uneven and warped glass ripples as you pass, distorts the view from the corner of your eye, giving all the animals a shimmering hint of movement, as if there were still a bit of life left somewhere behind the glass.</p> -<p><amp-img alt="Birds at La Specola, Firenze (Florence), Italy" height="336" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/florence-museum-birds.jpg" width="550"></amp-img></p> -<p>Beautiful glass aside, what makes La Specola special is how amazingly old the specimens are. La Specola records the very beginnings of natural science as we know it. The visible specimen tags I could read ranged from the early 1700s up through the late 1800s and into the 1900s. A few specimens come from the Medici family's private collection and are even older. That means the vast majority of the animals in La Specola date from well before Darwin's voyage on the Beagle, and some were brought to Florence even before Linnaeus had come up with the means of organizing them. </p> -<p><amp-img alt="Big cats at La Specola, Firenze (Florence), Italy" height="326" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/florence-museum-cats.jpg" width="550"></amp-img></p> -<p>Of course stuffed specimens from 300 years ago aren't going to be in the best of shape. Feathers have fallen off many of the birds, scales have dropped from the fish, the large mammals have badly dried and cracked hides and the natural coloring has long since faded from many. </p> -<p>What's fascinating isn't so much the specimens themselves, but the glimpse they offer into the curious minds of the time. When La Specola was founded in 1771, western culture was just beginning to shrug off thousands of years of religious dogma, dropping a vision of the world where everything was the province of god, for a vision of the world in which the human mind could explore on its own. La Specola hails from the very beginning of that yearning to know more about the world, to reject doctrine and discover first hand the creatures that share our planet. </p> -<p>In the late 17th and early 18th century there was an explosion of exploration, travel and discovery. The "age of discovery" as it's commonly called in hindsight, was the age of people like you and me, curious about the world and determined to see it for themselves, stumbling around, finding what they found. In the case of zoologists much of what they found was sent back here, to La Specola. It was a unique time, there were no professional scientists yet, no authorities or academic review boards, everything was new, everything was a discovery. </p> -<p>Yes, there's something perverse about heading out into the world, discovering exotic and fascinating animals and then killing, gutting and stuffing them. It's gruesome business if you go into the details. There's no reason to do it now, but circa 1700 it was the only link between those who could go into the field and those who stayed behind to make sense of it all.</p> -<p>La Specola is a link between then and now. A record of the conversation between those who discovered and those who took discoveries and turned them into something meaningful. Stuffed carcasses are not particularly meaningful in and of themselves. Colorful perhaps, exotic and even alien in some cases, but finding and recording is only half of what creates the store of human understanding. La Specola lays that conversation open for anyone to walk through and experience.</p> -<p>If stuffed and canned dead animals aren't enough to keep the tourists at bay, then the last two rooms certainly are. The last section of La Specola is nothing but wax models of dissected human bodies, flayed open to varying degrees to show muscle structure, viens, organs and even nerves. The models were created in the 1800s from real human bodies and were used to teach anatomy to medical students. The models are remarkably life-like and cover the entire spectrum of human existence from stillborn, syphilis-riddled fetuses to otherwise healthy adults and even larger-than-life skeletons.</p> -<p><amp-img alt="Wax model of human innards at La Specola, Firenze (Florence), Italy" height="258" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/florence-museum-meat.jpg" width="550"></amp-img></p> -<p>At first glance the wax models are a touch disturbing, not necessarily because they're life-like, but because they put us on the same shelves, in the same warped glass cases. Otherwise, quis custodiet ipsos custodes? We are after all just one more animal roaming the planet. But a curious, inquisitive animal that can dream anything it wants, including a natural science to explain how curious inquisitive animals can dream anything they want... just remember, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/World_Turtle" title="Wikipedia entry on the World Turtle">it's turtles all the way down</a>.</p> - </div> - </article> -</main> - -</body> -</html> diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/natural-science.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/natural-science.html deleted file mode 100644 index 746b343..0000000 --- a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/natural-science.html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,421 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html -class="detail double" dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> - -<head> - <title>Natural Science - by Scott Gilbertson</title> - <meta charset="utf-8"> - <meta http-equiv="x-ua-compatible" content="ie=edge"> - <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> - <meta name="description" - content="There's no way around it; Florence is crowded. 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It may well be that <a href="/jrnl/2011/06/new-pollution">Naples is the only Italian city that isn’t overrun with tourists</a> in the summer. Three days without other travelers around left us unprepared for the crowds in Florence.</p> -<div class="picwide"> - <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2019/110608_Jun_08_florence_005.jpg " title="view larger image"> - <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110608_Jun_08_florence_005_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110608_Jun_08_florence_005_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110608_Jun_08_florence_005_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110608_Jun_08_florence_005_picwide-med.jpg" alt="River in Florence, Italy photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2019/110608_Jun_08_florence_005.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > - </a> -</div> - -<p>Florence is, admittedly, more of what tourists expect Italy to be. There’s no graffiti, the streets are free of trash, and the city looks like something out of a fairy tale, the sort of thing that makes travel writers trot out the clichés — narrow, winding, stone streets, beautiful river walks, and plenty of English-speaking waiters. And so they come.</p> -<div class="picwide"> - <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110608_Jun_08_florence_009.jpg " title="view larger image"> - <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110608_Jun_08_florence_009_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110608_Jun_08_florence_009_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110608_Jun_08_florence_009_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110608_Jun_08_florence_009_picwide-med.jpg" alt="River scene, Florence, Italy photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110608_Jun_08_florence_009.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > - </a> -</div> - -<p>Luckily it’s never that hard to dodge crowds. Sometimes you have to <a href="jrnl/2006/03/angkor-wat">tour Angkor Wat in the sweltering midday heat</a>. Other times you need go in the <a href="/jrnl/2008/07/tiny-cities-made-ash">off season</a>. In Florence it’s really easy, you just need to get up early and the streets will be deserted. </p> -<div class="cluster"> -<span class="row-2".> - - <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2019/110611_Jun_11_florence_108.jpg" title="view larger image "> - <img class="pic66 " src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110611_Jun_11_florence_108_pic66.jpg" alt="empty streets of Firenze photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2019/110611_Jun_11_florence_108.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" ></a> - - - - - <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2019/110611_Jun_11_florence_114.jpg" title="view larger image "> - <img class="pic66 " src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110611_Jun_11_florence_114_pic66.jpg" alt="empty streets of Firenze photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2019/110611_Jun_11_florence_114.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" ></a> - - -</span> -</div> - -<p>Once the tourists make it out of bed, get off the streets. Head over to “La Specola”, the Museum of Zoology, part of the Museo di Storia Naturale di Firenze. Zoology isn’t something near the top of most must-see lists and in my experience, you’ll have the place to yourself.</p> -<p>Of course how much you’ll enjoy La Specola depends a little bit on how much you enjoy wandering through rooms filled with dead animals. My father taught biology and zoology for many years, so I grew up around dead animals, but clearly, La Specola is not for everyone.</p> -<p>Part of the appeal of the museum is simply the antique wooden cabinets used to house the various lions, leopards, monkeys, birds and butterflies. The old, uneven and warped glass ripples as you pass, distorts the view from the corner of your eye, giving all the animals a shimmering hint of movement, as if there were still a bit of life left somewhere behind the glass.</p> -<div class="picwide"> - <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_063.jpg " title="view larger image"> - <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_063_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_063_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_063_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_063_picwide-med.jpg" alt="glass cases in the bird room, Museo di Storia Naturale di Firenze, Firenze, Italy photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_063.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > - </a> -</div> - -<p>La Specola’s specimens are old. Most date from the very beginnings of natural science. The visible specimen tags I could read ranged from the early 1700s up through the late 1800s and into the 1900s. A few specimens come from the Medici family’s private collection and are even older. That means the vast majority of the animals in La Specola date from well before Darwin’s voyage on the Beagle, and some were brought to Florence even before Linnaeus had come up with the means of organizing them.</p> -<div class="picwide"> - <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_064.jpg " title="view larger image"> - <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_064_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_064_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_064_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_064_picwide-med.jpg" alt="birds in glass cases, Museo di Storia Naturale di Firenze, Florence, Italy photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_064.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > - </a> -</div> - -<p>Of course stuffed specimens from 300 years ago aren’t going to be in the best of shape. Feathers have fallen off many of the birds, scales have dropped from the fish, the large mammals have badly dried and cracked hides and the natural coloring has long since faded from many.</p> -<p>What’s fascinating isn’t so much the specimens themselves, but the glimpse they offer into the curious minds of the time. When La Specola was founded in 1771, western culture was just shrugging off over a thousand of years of monotheist dogma, shifting its gaze from a god to the world itself. New myths, ones that shape our world today<sup id="fnref:1"><a class="footnote-ref" href="#fn:1" rel="footnote">1</a></sup>, were starting to weave themselves together around this time. La Specola hails from the very beginning of that yearning to know more about the world, to reject monotheist doctrine in favor of actual experience with the world around you, in this case discovering first hand the creatures that share our planet.</p> -<div class="picwide"> - <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_049.jpg " title="view larger image"> - <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_049_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_049_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_049_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_049_picwide-med.jpg" alt="big cats, Museo di Storia Naturale di Firenze, Florence, Italy photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_049.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > - </a> -</div> - -<p>This is the explosion of exploration, travel and discovery. The “age of discovery” as hindsight has named it. </p> -<p>But more than that, it’s the golden age of the amateur. It’s the age of people like you and me, curious about the world and determined to see it for themselves, stumbling around, finding what they found. It was a unique time, there were no professional scientists yet, no authorities or academic review boards. For western Europe, crawling out from under the yoke of monotheism, everything was new, everything was a discovery. </p> -<p>In the case of amateur zoologists much of what they found was sent back here, to La Specola.</p> -<p>That’s the bright side. But there’s something obviously perverse about it all too. Heading out into the world, discovering exotic and fascinating animals and then killing, gutting and stuffing them for the folks back home suggests that yoke of monotheistic dogma has only partly been shed. Its arrogance, its presumption of absolute authority lingers. </p> -<p>There are subjects (explorers) and objects (everything else) here. The subjects are gone, only their labels and the objects remain. That’s the way of Subjects and Objects. Subjects can do whatever they want to objects because objects are static things. Objects have no subjectness, no say at all in the matter. They get killed, gutted, stuffed and left for centuries behind glass because that’s what the Subjects wanted. </p> -<div class="picwide"> - <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_046.jpg " title="view larger image"> - <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_046_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_046_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_046_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_046_picwide-med.jpg" alt="Butterflies, Museo di Storia Naturale di Firenze, Florence Italy photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_046.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > - </a> -</div> - -<p>This is also the mindset of Columbus, of Cortez — the mindset that says this is a world for the taking. Cortez took gold and left bodies. Early zoologists took bodies and left the gold. It was a gruesome business on both counts. I think it’s important to look at it though, lest we think we are above this somehow now. We are not. This world view is embedded in our myths to this day.</p> -<p>La Specola is a record of the beginnings of these myths, many of things we struggle with today can be seen at their infancy here — the lack of ecology, the lack of ecosophia, the presumption of the watchmaker universe, just sans watchmaker. We still live with these things.</p> -<div class="picwide"> - <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_056.jpg " title="view larger image"> - <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_056_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_056_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_056_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_056_picwide-med.jpg" alt="Great ape, Museo di Storia Naturale di Firenze, Florence Italy photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_056.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > - </a> -</div> - -<p>If stuffed and canned dead animals aren’t enough to keep the tourists at bay, then the last two rooms certainly are. The last section of La Specola is nothing but wax models of dissected human bodies, flayed open to varying degrees to show muscle structure, viens, organs and even nerves. </p> -<div class="picwide"> - <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_072.jpg " title="view larger image"> - <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_072_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_072_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_072_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_072_picwide-med.jpg" alt="wax human bodies, Museo di Storia Naturale di Firenze, Florence Italy photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_072.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > - </a> -</div> - -<p>The models were created in the 1800s from real human bodies and were used to teach anatomy to medical students. The models are remarkably life-like and cover the entire spectrum of human existence from stillborn, syphilis-riddled fetuses to otherwise healthy adults and even larger-than-life skeletons.</p> -<p>At first glance the wax models are disturbing, not necessarily because they’re life-like, but because they put us on the same shelves, in the same warped glass cases with everything else. More myths being made, turning the mindset of Cortez on ourselves. We are one more animal roaming the planet, better cut us up too. </p> -<div class="picwide"> - <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_082.jpg " title="view larger image"> - <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_082_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_082_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_082_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_082_picwide-med.jpg" alt="wax human bodies, Museo di Storia Naturale di Firenze, Florence Italy photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_082.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > - </a> -</div> - -<p>Walking out of La Specola, into the bright afternoon world of modern day Florence I couldn’t help feeling a sense of relief. The myths created out of story threads like those La Specola has preserved may still dominate our world, but if feels little like they’re slipping, a little like we’re losing faith in these stories. Like these myths no longer reflect the world or our place in it. Like these myths are no longer the way we want to live.</p> -<p>It feels like we are cascading toward something new. Perhaps rediscovering something old as well. It’s a risky time, but also an exciting one. New things always require new explorations, new experiences that shape new ways of thinking, new world views, which in turn will become, far after our time, new myths.</p> -<div class="footnote"> -<hr> -<ol> -<li id="fn:1"> -<p>The popular definition of myth is roughly, “thing that isn’t true”. That’s a terrible definition. When I refer to myth, I am speaking of an older understanding of the word, that it is a story, an archetype, which helps us make sense of the world around us and figure out our place within it. <a class="footnote-backref" href="#fnref:1" rev="footnote" title="Jump back to footnote 1 in the text">↩</a></p> -</li> -</ol> -</div> - </div> - - </article> - - - <div class="nav-wrapper"> - <nav id="page-navigation" class="page-border-top"> - <ul> - <li id="prev"><span class="bl">Previous:</span> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/06/forever-today" rel="prev" title=" Forever Today">Forever Today</a> - </li> - <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/06/cooking-rome" rel="next" title=" Cooking in Rome">Cooking in Rome</a> - </li> - </ul> - </nav> - </div> - - - - - - -<div class="comment--form--wrapper "> - -<div class="comment--form--header"> - <p class="hed">Thoughts?</p> - <p class="subhed">Please leave a reply:</p> -</div> -<form action="/comments/post/" method="post" class="comment--form"> - -<input type="hidden" name="rder" value="" /> - - - <input type="hidden" name="content_type" value="jrnl.entry" id="id_content_type"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="object_pk" value="124" id="id_object_pk"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833459" id="id_timestamp"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="a2b996b23284eadf2c33b5e12c85a7642a9779de" id="id_security_hash"> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_name">Name:</label> - <input type="text" name="name" maxlength="50" required id="id_name"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_email">Email address:</label> - <input type="email" name="email" required id="id_email"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_url">URL:</label> - <input type="url" name="url" id="id_url"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_comment">Comment:</label> - <div class="textarea-rounded"><textarea name="comment" cols="40" rows="10" maxlength="3000" required id="id_comment"> -</textarea></div> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset style="display:none;"> - <label for="id_honeypot">If you enter anything in this field your comment will be treated as spam:</label> - <input type="text" name="honeypot" id="id_honeypot"> - </fieldset> - - - <div class="submit"> - <input type="submit" name="post" class="submit-post btn" value="Post" /> - <input type="submit" name="preview" class="submit-preview btn" value="Preview" /> - </div> -</form> -<p style="font-size: 95%;"><strong>All comments are moderated</strong>, so you won’t see it right away. 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It may well be that [Naples is the only Italian city that isn't overrun with tourists](/jrnl/2011/06/new-pollution) in the summer. Three days without other travelers around left us unprepared for the crowds in Florence.
-
-<img src="images/2019/110608_Jun_08_florence_005.jpg" id="image-2074" class="picwide" />
-
-Florence is, admittedly, more of what tourists expect Italy to be. There's no graffiti, the streets are free of trash, and the city looks like something out of a fairy tale, the sort of thing that makes travel writers trot out the clichés -- narrow, winding, stone streets, beautiful river walks, and plenty of English-speaking waiters. And so they come.
-
-<img src="images/2011/110608_Jun_08_florence_009.jpg" id="image-2073" class="picwide" />
-
-Luckily it's never that hard to dodge crowds. Sometimes you have to [tour Angkor Wat in the sweltering midday heat](jrnl/2006/03/angkor-wat). Other times you need go in the [off season](/jrnl/2008/07/tiny-cities-made-ash). In Florence it's really easy, you just need to get up early and the streets will be deserted.
-
-<div class="cluster">
-<span class="row-2".>
-<img src="images/2019/110611_Jun_11_florence_108.jpg" id="image-2075" class="cluster pic66" />
-<img src="images/2019/110611_Jun_11_florence_114.jpg" id="image-2076" class="cluster pic66" />
-</span>
-</div>
-
-Once the tourists make it out of bed, get off the streets. Head over to "La Specola", the Museum of Zoology, part of the Museo di Storia Naturale di Firenze. Zoology isn't something near the top of most must-see lists and in my experience, you'll have the place to yourself.
-
-Of course how much you'll enjoy La Specola depends a little bit on how much you enjoy wandering through rooms filled with dead animals. My father taught biology and zoology for many years, so I grew up around dead animals, but clearly, La Specola is not for everyone.
-
-Part of the appeal of the museum is simply the antique wooden cabinets used to house the various lions, leopards, monkeys, birds and butterflies. The old, uneven and warped glass ripples as you pass, distorts the view from the corner of your eye, giving all the animals a shimmering hint of movement, as if there were still a bit of life left somewhere behind the glass.
-
-<img src="images/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_063.jpg" id="image-2077" class="picwide" />
-
-La Specola's specimens are old. Most date from the very beginnings of natural science. The visible specimen tags I could read ranged from the early 1700s up through the late 1800s and into the 1900s. A few specimens come from the Medici family's private collection and are even older. That means the vast majority of the animals in La Specola date from well before Darwin's voyage on the Beagle, and some were brought to Florence even before Linnaeus had come up with the means of organizing them.
-
-<img src="images/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_064.jpg" id="image-2079" class="picwide" />
-
-Of course stuffed specimens from 300 years ago aren't going to be in the best of shape. Feathers have fallen off many of the birds, scales have dropped from the fish, the large mammals have badly dried and cracked hides and the natural coloring has long since faded from many.
-
-What's fascinating isn't so much the specimens themselves, but the glimpse they offer into the curious minds of the time. When La Specola was founded in 1771, western culture was just shrugging off over a thousand of years of monotheist dogma, shifting its gaze from a god to the world itself. New myths, ones that shape our world today[^1], were starting to weave themselves together around this time. La Specola hails from the very beginning of that yearning to know more about the world, to reject monotheist doctrine in favor of actual experience with the world around you, in this case discovering first hand the creatures that share our planet.
-
-<img src="images/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_049.jpg" id="image-2078" class="picwide" />
-
-This is the explosion of exploration, travel and discovery. The "age of discovery" as hindsight has named it.
-
-But more than that, it's the golden age of the amateur. It's the age of people like you and me, curious about the world and determined to see it for themselves, stumbling around, finding what they found. It was a unique time, there were no professional scientists yet, no authorities or academic review boards. For western Europe, crawling out from under the yoke of monotheism, everything was new, everything was a discovery.
-
-In the case of amateur zoologists much of what they found was sent back here, to La Specola.
-
-That's the bright side. But there's something obviously perverse about it all too. Heading out into the world, discovering exotic and fascinating animals and then killing, gutting and stuffing them for the folks back home suggests that yoke of monotheistic dogma has only partly been shed. Its arrogance, its presumption of absolute authority lingers.
-
-There are subjects (explorers) and objects (everything else) here. The subjects are gone, only their labels and the objects remain. That's the way of Subjects and Objects. Subjects can do whatever they want to objects because objects are static things. Objects have no subjectness, no say at all in the matter. They get killed, gutted, stuffed and left for centuries behind glass because that's what the Subjects wanted.
-
-<img src="images/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_046.jpg" id="image-2081" class="picwide" />
-
-This is also the mindset of Columbus, of Cortez -- the mindset that says this is a world for the taking. Cortez took gold and left bodies. Early zoologists took bodies and left the gold. It was a gruesome business on both counts. I think it's important to look at it though, lest we think we are above this somehow now. We are not. This world view is embedded in our myths to this day.
-
-La Specola is a record of the beginnings of these myths, many of things we struggle with today can be seen at their infancy here -- the lack of ecology, the lack of ecosophia, the presumption of the watchmaker universe, just sans watchmaker. We still live with these things.
-
-<img src="images/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_056.jpg" id="image-2080" class="picwide" />
-
-If stuffed and canned dead animals aren't enough to keep the tourists at bay, then the last two rooms certainly are. The last section of La Specola is nothing but wax models of dissected human bodies, flayed open to varying degrees to show muscle structure, viens, organs and even nerves.
-
-<img src="images/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_072.jpg" id="image-2082" class="picwide" />
-
-The models were created in the 1800s from real human bodies and were used to teach anatomy to medical students. The models are remarkably life-like and cover the entire spectrum of human existence from stillborn, syphilis-riddled fetuses to otherwise healthy adults and even larger-than-life skeletons.
-
-At first glance the wax models are disturbing, not necessarily because they're life-like, but because they put us on the same shelves, in the same warped glass cases with everything else. More myths being made, turning the mindset of Cortez on ourselves. We are one more animal roaming the planet, better cut us up too.
-
-<img src="images/2019/110610_Jun_10_florence_082.jpg" id="image-2083" class="picwide" />
-
-Walking out of La Specola, into the bright afternoon world of modern day Florence I couldn't help feeling a sense of relief. The myths created out of story threads like those La Specola has preserved may still dominate our world, but if feels little like they're slipping, a little like we're losing faith in these stories. Like these myths no longer reflect the world or our place in it. Like these myths are no longer the way we want to live.
-
-It feels like we are cascading toward something new. Perhaps rediscovering something old as well. It's a risky time, but also an exciting one. New things always require new explorations, new experiences that shape new ways of thinking, new world views, which in turn will become, far after our time, new myths.
-
-[^1]: The popular definition of myth is roughly, "thing that isn't true". That's a terrible definition. When I refer to myth, I am speaking of an older understanding of the word, that it is a story, an archetype, which helps us make sense of the world around us and figure out our place within it. diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/new-pollution.amp b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/new-pollution.amp deleted file mode 100644 index b72dc53..0000000 --- a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/new-pollution.amp +++ /dev/null @@ -1,184 +0,0 @@ - - -<!doctype html> -<html amp lang="en"> -<head> -<meta charset="utf-8"> -<title>The New Pollution</title> -<link rel="canonical" href="https://luxagraf.net/jrnl/2011/06/new-pollution"> - <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width,initial-scale=1,minimum-scale=1"> - <meta name="twitter:card" content="summary_large_image"/> - <meta name="twitter:url" content="/jrnl/2011/06/new-pollution"> - <meta name="twitter:description" content="Naples Italy is a place worth appreciating for what it is not, even if what is isn’t, perhaps, enough to ever bring you back. 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It's an intimidating place that is by turns a bit like Philadelphia, a bit Mumbai, a bit some post-apocalyptic video game and, in the end, something else entirely. </p> -<p>The rest of the world abandoned Naples long ago, left it to find its own way, fumbling through some darkness of its own making toward a light it can't yet see.</p> -<p>The old Centro Storico area is a maze of narrow stone streets swarming with scooters dodging shoppers at the morning markets where fresh fruit and dried pasta hang alongside lanterns and trinkets, fishmongers crowd the sidewalks and the smell of pastries and coffee choke the air.</p> -<p><amp-img alt="Street, Naples, Italy" height="323" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/naples-market.jpg" width="550"></amp-img></p> -<p>The sun rarely makes it down through the five and six story facades to the streets below. The shadowy world of dark granite streets gives the impression that you're strolling through canyons of carefully cut stone blocks and marble doorways. There are no trees down here, hardly any plants at all. Higher up,, on the second and third stories, a few ferns, some moss and grasses grow on the balconies of abandoned buildings.</p> -<p><amp-img alt="Street, Naples, Italy" height="418" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/naples-street.jpg" width="300"></amp-img>Even if there were light, there's no room for trees. There's hardly any room to move, save when a street opens up into a piazza, where in the evening crowds gather to drink beer or wine, or perhaps to eat in the restaurants that line the edges of the larger squares.</p> -<p>Naples is it's own world. I sit outside the hotel watching as people on a balcony down the street lower a bucket down from the fifth story with a few euro inside. The man at the nearby tabac runs over, retrieves the euro and throws a pack of cigarettes inside. The bucket retreats back up into the heights of the buildings, disappearing into a tiny sliver of night sky. Naples, the city time forgot.</p> -<p>Naples is not tourist friendly, it's not even pretty. It's just a city. Most of it is covered in graffiti, and, thanks to strikes and general city mismanagement (read: mob control), garbage. Or at least the city proper is, the old town area is largely trash-free, if only because the streets are so narrow there's simply no room for any trash. The graffiti though is universal, perhaps the one thing that links the old town and the newer portions together. </p> -<p><amp-img alt="graffiti on the street, Naples, Italy" height="339" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/naples-graffiti.jpg" width="550"></amp-img></p> -<p>Pompeii, just thirty minutes away and 2600 years older, was also once covered in ancient Roman graffiti. It's just how they do things here apparently, it's in the blood, in the soil, in the wind. Speak your mind with spray cans -- or whatever might be the tool of the era -- out in the open, for everyone to see.</p> -<p>The main reason any tourist, myself included, comes to Naples is its proximity to Pompeii. Beyond the quick and cheap train out to Pompeii, Naples doesn't have a lot to offer. That's part of it's appeal. Perhaps best appreciated in hindsight, but appeal nonetheless. Still, given the tourist epidemic that sweeps Italy every summer, Naples is a place worth appreciating for what it is not, even if what is isn't, perhaps, enough to ever bring you back.</p> - </div> - </article> -</main> - -</body> -</html> diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/new-pollution.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/new-pollution.html deleted file mode 100644 index 28db09d..0000000 --- a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/new-pollution.html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,263 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html -class="detail single" dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> - -<head> - <title>The New Pollution - by Scott Gilbertson</title> - <meta charset="utf-8"> - <meta http-equiv="x-ua-compatible" content="ie=edge"> - <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> - <meta name="description" - content="Naples Italy is a place worth appreciating for what it is not, even if what is isn’t, perhaps, enough to ever bring you back. 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It’s an intimidating place that is by turns a bit like Philadelphia, a bit Mumbai, a bit some post-apocalyptic video game and, in the end, something else entirely. </p> -<p>The rest of the world abandoned Naples long ago, left it to find its own way, fumbling through some darkness of its own making toward a light it can’t yet see.</p> -<p>The old Centro Storico area is a maze of narrow stone streets swarming with scooters dodging shoppers at the morning markets where fresh fruit and dried pasta hang alongside lanterns and trinkets, fishmongers crowd the sidewalks and the smell of pastries and coffee choke the air.</p> -<p><img alt="Street, Naples, Italy" class="postpic" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/naples-market.jpg"/></p> -<p>The sun rarely makes it down through the five and six story facades to the streets below. The shadowy world of dark granite streets gives the impression that you’re strolling through canyons of carefully cut stone blocks and marble doorways. There are no trees down here, hardly any plants at all. Higher up,, on the second and third stories, a few ferns, some moss and grasses grow on the balconies of abandoned buildings.</p> -<p><img alt="Street, Naples, Italy" class="postpic" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/naples-street.jpg"/>Even if there were light, there’s no room for trees. There’s hardly any room to move, save when a street opens up into a piazza, where in the evening crowds gather to drink beer or wine, or perhaps to eat in the restaurants that line the edges of the larger squares.</p> -<p>Naples is it’s own world. I sit outside the hotel watching as people on a balcony down the street lower a bucket down from the fifth story with a few euro inside. The man at the nearby tabac runs over, retrieves the euro and throws a pack of cigarettes inside. The bucket retreats back up into the heights of the buildings, disappearing into a tiny sliver of night sky. Naples, the city time forgot.</p> -<p>Naples is not tourist friendly, it’s not even pretty. It’s just a city. Most of it is covered in graffiti, and, thanks to strikes and general city mismanagement (read: mob control), garbage. Or at least the city proper is, the old town area is largely trash-free, if only because the streets are so narrow there’s simply no room for any trash. The graffiti though is universal, perhaps the one thing that links the old town and the newer portions together. </p> -<p><img alt="graffiti on the street, Naples, Italy" class="picfull" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/naples-graffiti.jpg"/></p> -<p>Pompeii, just thirty minutes away and 2600 years older, was also once covered in ancient Roman graffiti. It’s just how they do things here apparently, it’s in the blood, in the soil, in the wind. Speak your mind with spray cans — or whatever might be the tool of the era — out in the open, for everyone to see.</p> -<p>The main reason any tourist, myself included, comes to Naples is its proximity to Pompeii. Beyond the quick and cheap train out to Pompeii, Naples doesn’t have a lot to offer. That’s part of it’s appeal. Perhaps best appreciated in hindsight, but appeal nonetheless. Still, given the tourist epidemic that sweeps Italy every summer, Naples is a place worth appreciating for what it is not, even if what is isn’t, perhaps, enough to ever bring you back.</p> - </div> - - </article> - - - <div class="nav-wrapper"> - <nav id="page-navigation" class="page-border-top"> - <ul> - <li id="prev"><span class="bl">Previous:</span> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/06/language-cities" rel="prev" title=" The Language of Cities">The Language of Cities</a> - </li> - <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/06/forever-today" rel="next" title=" Forever Today">Forever Today</a> - </li> - </ul> - </nav> - </div> - - - - -<p class="comments--header" style="text-align: center">Sorry, comments have been disabled for this post.</p> - -</main> - - - - <footer class="bl"> - <ul class="footer-nav"> - <li><a href="/blogroll" title="Sites that inspire us">Blogroll</a></li> - <li><a href="/contact/" title="contact luxagraf">Contact</a></li> - <li>Follow Along: - <ul> - <li><a href="/jrnl/feed.xml" title="RSS feed">RSS</a></li> - <li><a href="/newsletter/" title="Luxagraf Email Updates">Email</a></li> - <li><a href="https://www.instagram.com/luxagraf" rel="me" title="luxagraf on Instagram">Instagram</a></li> - </ul> - </ul> - <div class="support">Support luxagraf: - <div class="donate-btn"> - <form action="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr" method="post" target="_top"> - <input type="hidden" name="cmd" value="_s-xclick"> - <input type="hidden" name="hosted_button_id" value="HYJFZQSBGJ8QQ"> - <input type="submit" name="submit" title="Donate to luxagraf via PayPal"> - </form> - </div> - <div class="donate-btn"> - <a class="liberapay-btn" href="https://liberapay.com/luxagraf/donate"><span>Donate</span></a> - </div> - </div> - <p id="license"> - © 2003-2020 - <span class="h-card"><a class="p-name u-url" href="https://luxagraf.net/">Scott Gilbertson</a><data class="p-nickname" value="luxagraf"></data><data class="p-locality" value="Athens"></data><data class="p-region" value="Georgia"></data><data class="p-country-name" value="United States"></data></span>. - </p> - </footer> - </div> - -<script> -document.addEventListener("DOMContentLoaded", function(event) { - var leaflet = document.createElement('script'); - leaflet.src = "/media/js/leaflet-master/leaflet-mod.js"; - document.body.appendChild(leaflet); - var lightbox = document.createElement('script'); - lightbox.src = "/media/js/lightbox.js"; - document.body.appendChild(lightbox); - leaflet.onload = function(){ - var detail = document.createElement('script'); - detail.src = "/media/js/detail.min.js"; - document.body.appendChild(detail); - - detail.onload = function(){ - createMap(); - var open = false; - } - - } - - lightbox.onload = function() { - var opts= { - //nextOnClick: false, - captions: true, - onload: function(){ - var im = document.getElementById("jslghtbx-contentwrapper"); - var link = im.appendChild(document.createElement('a')) - link.href = im.firstChild.src; - link.innerHTML= "open "; - link.target = "_blank"; - link.setAttribute('class', 'p-link'); - im.appendChild(link); - } - }; - var lightbox = new Lightbox(); - lightbox.load(opts); - } - - - -}); -</script> - -<script> -<!-- -// Register our service-worker -//if (navigator.serviceWorker) { -// window.addEventListener('load', function() { -// if (navigator.serviceWorker.controller) { -// navigator.serviceWorker.controller.postMessage({'command': 'trimCaches'}); -// } else { -// navigator.serviceWorker.register('/serviceworker.js', { -// scope: '/' -// }); -// } -// }); -//} -//--> - -<!-- Piwik --> -var _paq = _paq || []; -_paq.push(["disableCookies"]); -_paq.push(['trackPageView']); -_paq.push(['enableLinkTracking']); -(function() { - var u="https://stats.luxagraf.net/"; - _paq.push(['setTrackerUrl', u+'piwik.php']); - _paq.push(['setSiteId', 1]); - var d=document, g=d.createElement('script'), s=d.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; - g.type='text/javascript'; g.async=true; g.defer=true; g.src=u+'piwik.js'; s.parentNode.insertBefore(g,s); - })(); -<!-- End Piwik Code --> -</script> -<noscript><p><img src="//stats.luxagraf.net/piwik.php?idsite=1" style="border:0;" alt="" /></p></noscript> -</body> -</html> diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/new-pollution.txt b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/new-pollution.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 31b1ded..0000000 --- a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/new-pollution.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,28 +0,0 @@ -The New Pollution -================= - - by Scott Gilbertson - </jrnl/2011/06/new-pollution> - Monday, 06 June 2011 - -Naples is a big, crowded, graffiti-filled city. It's an intimidating place that is by turns a bit like Philadelphia, a bit Mumbai, a bit some post-apocalyptic video game and, in the end, something else entirely.
-
-The rest of the world abandoned Naples long ago, left it to find its own way, fumbling through some darkness of its own making toward a light it can't yet see.
-
-The old Centro Storico area is a maze of narrow stone streets swarming with scooters dodging shoppers at the morning markets where fresh fruit and dried pasta hang alongside lanterns and trinkets, fishmongers crowd the sidewalks and the smell of pastries and coffee choke the air.
-
-<img class="postpic" src="[[base_url]]2011/naples-market.jpg" alt="Street, Naples, Italy" />
-
-The sun rarely makes it down through the five and six story facades to the streets below. The shadowy world of dark granite streets gives the impression that you're strolling through canyons of carefully cut stone blocks and marble doorways. There are no trees down here, hardly any plants at all. Higher up,, on the second and third stories, a few ferns, some moss and grasses grow on the balconies of abandoned buildings.
-
-<img class="postpic" src="[[base_url]]2011/naples-street.jpg" alt="Street, Naples, Italy" />Even if there were light, there's no room for trees. There's hardly any room to move, save when a street opens up into a piazza, where in the evening crowds gather to drink beer or wine, or perhaps to eat in the restaurants that line the edges of the larger squares.
-
-Naples is it's own world. I sit outside the hotel watching as people on a balcony down the street lower a bucket down from the fifth story with a few euro inside. The man at the nearby tabac runs over, retrieves the euro and throws a pack of cigarettes inside. The bucket retreats back up into the heights of the buildings, disappearing into a tiny sliver of night sky. Naples, the city time forgot.
-
-Naples is not tourist friendly, it's not even pretty. It's just a city. Most of it is covered in graffiti, and, thanks to strikes and general city mismanagement (read: mob control), garbage. Or at least the city proper is, the old town area is largely trash-free, if only because the streets are so narrow there's simply no room for any trash. The graffiti though is universal, perhaps the one thing that links the old town and the newer portions together.
-
-<img class="picfull" src="[[base_url]]2011/naples-graffiti.jpg" alt="graffiti on the street, Naples, Italy" />
-
-Pompeii, just thirty minutes away and 2600 years older, was also once covered in ancient Roman graffiti. It's just how they do things here apparently, it's in the blood, in the soil, in the wind. Speak your mind with spray cans -- or whatever might be the tool of the era -- out in the open, for everyone to see.
-
-The main reason any tourist, myself included, comes to Naples is its proximity to Pompeii. Beyond the quick and cheap train out to Pompeii, Naples doesn't have a lot to offer. That's part of it's appeal. Perhaps best appreciated in hindsight, but appeal nonetheless. Still, given the tourist epidemic that sweeps Italy every summer, Naples is a place worth appreciating for what it is not, even if what is isn't, perhaps, enough to ever bring you back. diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/temple-ceremony-ubud.amp b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/temple-ceremony-ubud.amp deleted file mode 100644 index 6363e45..0000000 --- a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/temple-ceremony-ubud.amp +++ /dev/null @@ -1,196 +0,0 @@ - - -<!doctype html> -<html amp lang="en"> -<head> -<meta charset="utf-8"> -<title>The Balinese Temple Ceremony</title> -<link rel="canonical" href="https://luxagraf.net/jrnl/2011/06/temple-ceremony-ubud"> - <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width,initial-scale=1,minimum-scale=1"> - <meta name="twitter:card" content="summary_large_image"/> - <meta name="twitter:url" content="/jrnl/2011/06/temple-ceremony-ubud"> - <meta name="twitter:description" content="We were fortunate enough to be invited to a temple ceremony in Tegallantang, Bali and then followed the procession back into Ubud. 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The island itself may in fact only be two hundred meters wide and two hundred meters long. To get from here to wherever we are staying? Two hundred meters. To get from here to the temple ceremony we were supposed to be at twenty minutes ago? Just two hundred meters more. The Balinese are either really bad at judging distance or unclear on the English words for numbers larger than two hundred.</p> -<p>We've been walking up this hill for at least 2km and we still haven't caught sight of the temple, though now we can hear the drums, which is encouraging. One last local walks by, "Excuse me, it this the road to Tegallantang? Yes. How much farther is it? "Just up the road. Maybe two hundred meters."</p> -<p>As it turns out, he's the only one to say two hundred meters and literally be right about it.</p> -</div> -<p><amp-img alt="Elephant Caves, Ubud, Bali" height="509" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/ubud-elephant-caves.jpg" width="960"></amp-img></p> -<p><span class="drop">T</span>wo days earlier we were out wandering the streets when it started to rain. We ducked into the nearest restaurant for lunch. Toward the end of the meal, as the rain was dying down and we were getting ready to leave, the owner came over and started talking to us about Ubud. We ordered another beer and in the end he invited us out to his temple to see the temple's anniversary ceremony and procession through the city.</p> -<p>At the time we were thinking of leaving for the islands east of Bali, but we decided to stick around for a couple of extra days to see the temple ceremony. </p> -<p>Ubud grows on you. Sure, it has a lot of traffic and touristy elements and most of the shops sell things at prices roughly equal to what you'd expect in the States, but despite all that there's something about the place. Maybe it's the way every morning the streets are littered with tiny offerings, small banana leaf trays filled with flowers, bits of rice and other food, along with a few sticks of burning incense. Maybe it's the immaculate, constantly tended gardens that grace the courtyards of every restaurant and guesthouse you enter. Maybe it's the really awful, overpriced beer. No. Probably not that, but it does grow on you. Ubud that is, not the beer.</p> -<p><amp-img alt="Gray Macaques, Ubud, Bali" height="292" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/ubud-monkey-forest.jpg" width="300"></amp-img>With a few extra days on our hands <a href="http://luxagraf.net/2011/jun/16/motor-city-burning/" title="Riding a motorbike in Bali">we rode the motor bike</a> around some more. We also walked around the temples of the sacred monkey forest where we saw one of the namesake gray-haired Macaques (small monkeys) re-enact the opening scene of 2001 with a battered old aerosol can. Eventually it stopped banging the can on the ground and just turned it around, upside down, shook it, bit it, threw it and otherwise seemed to be saying, <a href="http://www.zefrank.com/theshow/archives/2006/05/051106.html" title="Ze Frank: How do you work this thing?">how do you work this thing</a>?</p> -<p>After four and half days though I'll admit I wasn't expecting much when we walked a couple of kilometers out of Ubud to the village of Tegallantang where we, along with a couple friends we met a few days earlier, met up with our friend from the restaurant.</p> -<p>I've been to <a href="http://luxagraf.net/2005/nov/30/around-udaipur/" title="Luxagraf in Udaipur">a lot of Hindu temples</a>. Enough in fact that I don't feel the need to see any more, but Balinese temples are considerably different than Hindu temples in India. While Balinese temples look partly like Hindu temples in India, there are other elements that come from older religions. Bali is what happens when Hindu beliefs collide with animism. The Balinese seem to embrace the basic tenants of traditional Hinduism, but then add plenty of their own animist flourishes to the mix -- like frequent and elaborate temple ceremonies.</p> -<p><amp-img alt="Boys waiting for ceremony procession, Tegallantang, Bali" height="300" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/ubud-ceremony-boys.jpg" width="350"></amp-img>By the time we arrived the temple portion of the ceremony was already over, which is just as well because it felt vaguely intrusive to be the only white people standing outside the temple, and would have felt even more so if they had invited us in. And I have no doubt they would have, as we seemed to be the only people uneasy with our presence. I'm always wary of being <em>that guy</em>, the obnoxious tourist thrusting a camera in everyone's face. I even carry a long telephoto lens just so I can avoid being that guy.</p> -<p>However, despite the fact that the ceremony was not a public spectacle by any means, the procession most definitely was, since it was headed for the heart of Ubud, down to the meeting of the two rivers which is both a sacred sight for the locals and tourist central for the city. Perhaps that's why no one seemed to mind us standing around the temple.</p> -<p><amp-img alt="Effigies, ceremony procession, Tegallantang, Bali" height="400" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/ubud-effigies.jpg" width="267"></amp-img>When we arrived only the men were at the temple. Most of them were turned out in immaculate white sarongs crisply tied without a fold out of place, topped with white shirts. Boys as young as five or six on up to teenagers were lined up to carry giant umbrellas, flags and various silk emblems which towered high above their heads on bamboo poles. The brigade of youngsters and the fluttering banners made up the front of the procession back to Ubud. The umbrellas and banners were used to shade the effigies of gods and demons that made up the middle of the procession.</p> -<p>The older men came next split into two groups, those warming up on drums, flutes and other musical instruments, and those still inside the temple, loading up the various offerings and even stone shrines, all of which they carried in groups, the weight slung between two long bamboo poles that rested on the shoulders of eight and sometimes ten men.</p> -<p>Once the men had all taken their places, as if on cue (though more likely via the walkie talkies some of the elders carried), the women arrived dressed in elaborate sarongs of rich gold and red silk. Most of the women, even the very young girls, wore thick coats of makeup on their faces, giving them a doll-like appearance reminiscent of Japanese geishas, though I'm pretty sure that wasn't the image they had in mind.</p> -<p><amp-img alt="Temple ceremony procession, Tegallantang, Bali" height="367" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/ubud-procession-start.jpg" width="550"></amp-img></p> -<p>Then, as with any parade you've ever seen, the band struck up a song. The children moved out in front, the older women placed their baskets on their heads, the men picked up their offerings and shrines and the whole affair began the slow walking march through the hills down into Ubud. We brought up the rear, the token tourists trailing the procession through the rice paddies and down the hill, past shops and restaurants, houses and even a resort or two until the street widened and eventually reached the main road through Ubud. </p> -<p>At that point we broke off and went up to a second story restaurant to have a beer and a bit of a snack, content to watch from a distance. As we sat upstairs in the fading light we watched as the river of white shirts hit the main road and flowed right, turning toward the city center, gradually growing smaller until the last white shirts disappeared down the hill.</p> -<p><amp-img alt="Temple ceremony procession, Tegallantang, Bali" height="308" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/ubud-procession-end.jpg" width="550"></amp-img></p> - </div> - </article> -</main> - -</body> -</html> diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/temple-ceremony-ubud.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/temple-ceremony-ubud.html deleted file mode 100644 index 5d3e285..0000000 --- a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/06/temple-ceremony-ubud.html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,402 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html -class="detail double" dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> - -<head> - <title>The Balinese Temple Ceremony - by Scott Gilbertson</title> - <meta charset="utf-8"> - <meta http-equiv="x-ua-compatible" content="ie=edge"> - <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> - <meta name="description" - content="We were fortunate enough to be invited to a temple ceremony in Tegallantang, Bali and then followed the procession back into Ubud."> - <meta name="author" content="Scott Gilbertson"> - <link rel="alternate" - type="application/rss+xml" - title="Luxagraf RSS feed" - href="https://luxagraf.net/rss/"> - <link rel="stylesheet" - href="/media/screenv9.css" - media="screen"> - <link rel="stylesheet" href="/media/print.css" media="print" title="print" /> - <link rel="shortcut icon" href="/favicon.ico" type="image/x-icon"> - <link rel="manifest" href="/manifest.json" /> - <link rel="dns-prefetch" href="https://stats.luxagraf.net"> - - <link rel="canonical" href="https://luxagraf.net/jrnl/2011/06/temple-ceremony-ubud" /> - <meta name="ICBM" content="-8.480557093648551, 115.2658280930829" /> - <meta name="geo.position" content="-8.480557093648551; 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return false;" title="see a map">Map</a> - </div> - <time class="dt-published published dt-updated post-date" datetime="2011-06-19T10:25:00" itemprop="datePublished">June <span>19, 2011</span></time> - <span class="hide" itemprop="author" itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/Person">by <a class="p-author h-card" href="/about"><span itemprop="name">Scott Gilbertson</span></a></span> - </div> - </header> - <div id="article" class="e-content entry-content post--body post--body--double" itemprop="articleBody"> - <p>Everything in Bali is two hundred meters from here. The island itself may in fact only be two hundred meters wide and two hundred meters long. To get from here to wherever we are staying? Two hundred meters. To get from here to the temple ceremony we were supposed to be at twenty minutes ago? Just two hundred meters more. The Balinese are either really bad at judging distance or unclear on the English words for numbers larger than two hundred.</p> -<p>We’ve been walking up this hill for at least 2km and we still haven’t caught sight of the temple, though now we can hear the drums, which is encouraging. One last local walks by, “Excuse me, it this the road to Tegallantang? Yes. How much farther is it? “Just up the road. Maybe two hundred meters.”</p> -<p>As it turns out, he’s the only one to say two hundred meters and literally be right about it.</p> -<div class="picwide"> - <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110618_Jun_18_bali_069.jpg " title="view larger image"> - <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110618_Jun_18_bali_069_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110618_Jun_18_bali_069_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110618_Jun_18_bali_069_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110618_Jun_18_bali_069_picwide-med.jpg" alt="Elephant Caves, Ubud, Bali photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110618_Jun_18_bali_069.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > - </a> -</div> - -<p>Two days earlier we were out wandering the streets when it started to rain. We ducked into the nearest restaurant for lunch. Toward the end of the meal, as the rain was dying down and we were getting ready to leave, the owner came over and started talking to us about Ubud. We ordered another beer and in the end he invited us out to his temple to see the temple’s anniversary ceremony and procession through the city.</p> -<p>At the time we were thinking of leaving for the islands east of Bali, but we decided to stick around for a couple of extra days to see the temple ceremony.</p> -<p>Ubud grows on you. Sure, it has a lot of traffic and touristy elements and most of the shops sell things at prices roughly equal to what you’d expect in the States, but despite all that there’s something about the place. Maybe it’s the way every morning the streets are littered with tiny offerings, small banana leaf trays filled with flowers, bits of rice and other food, along with a few sticks of burning incense. Maybe it’s the immaculate, constantly tended gardens that grace the courtyards of every restaurant and guesthouse you enter. Maybe it’s the really awful, overpriced beer. No. Probably not that, but it does grow on you. Ubud that is, not the beer.</p> -<p>With a few extra days on our hands we did a lot of walking. We walked around the temples of the sacred monkey forest where we saw one of the namesake gray-haired Macaques (small monkeys) re-enact the opening scene of 2001 with a battered old aerosol can. Eventually it stopped banging the can on the ground and just turned it around, upside down, shook it, bit it, threw it and otherwise seemed to be saying, <a href="http://www.zefrank.com/theshow/archives/2006/05/051106.html">how do you work this thing</a>?</p> -<div class="picfull"> - <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110616_Jun_16_bali_047_kwrSJLi.jpg " title="view larger image"> - <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 750px) 100vw, (min-width: 751) 750px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110616_Jun_16_bali_047_kwrSJLi_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110616_Jun_16_bali_047_kwrSJLi_picfull-sm.jpg 750w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110616_Jun_16_bali_047_kwrSJLi_picfull.jpg 1500w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110616_Jun_16_bali_047_kwrSJLi_featured_jrnl.jpg 520w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110616_Jun_16_bali_047_kwrSJLi_picfull-sm.jpg" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110616_Jun_16_bali_047_kwrSJLi_picfull.jpg" alt="Gray Macaques, Ubud, Bali photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110616_Jun_16_bali_047_kwrSJLi.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > - </a> -</div> - -<p>After four and half days though I’ll admit I wasn’t expecting much when we walked a couple of kilometers out of Ubud to the village of Tegallantang where we, along with a couple friends we met a few days earlier, met up with our friend from the restaurant.</p> -<p>I’ve been to <a href="/jrnl/2005/nov/30/around-udaipur/" title="Luxagraf in Udaipur">a lot of Hindu temples</a>. Enough in fact that I don’t feel the need to see any more, but Balinese temples are considerably different than Hindu temples in India. While Balinese temples look partly like Hindu temples in India, there are other elements that come from older religions. Bali is what happens when Hindu beliefs collide with animism. The Balinese seem to embrace the basic tenants of traditional Hinduism, but then add plenty of their own animist flourishes to the mix — like frequent and elaborate temple ceremonies.</p> -<div class="picwide"> - <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_122_QWqiA61.jpg " title="view larger image"> - <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_122_QWqiA61_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_122_QWqiA61_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_122_QWqiA61_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_122_QWqiA61_picwide-med.jpg" alt="men waiting for temple ceremony to begin, ubud, bali Pomp and circumstance and nose picking. photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_122_QWqiA61.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > - </a> -</div> - -<div class="picwide"> - <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_112.jpg " title="view larger image"> - <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_112_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_112_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_112_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_112_picwide-med.jpg" alt="Children waiting for temple ceremony to begin, Ubud, Bali photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_112.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > - </a> -</div> - -<figure class="picwide"> - <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_131_3HAN2T2.jpg " title="view larger image"> - <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_131_3HAN2T2_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_131_3HAN2T2_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_131_3HAN2T2_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_131_3HAN2T2_picwide-med.jpg" alt="boy picking nose at temple ceremony, ubud, bali photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_131_3HAN2T2.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" data-jslghtbx-caption="Pomp and circumstance and nose picking."> - </a> -<figcaption>Pomp and circumstance and nose picking.</figcaption> -</figure> - -<p>By the time we arrived the temple portion of the ceremony was already over, which is just as well because it felt vaguely intrusive to be the only white people standing outside the temple, and would have felt even more so if they had invited us in. And I have no doubt they would have, as we seemed to be the only people uneasy with our presence. I’m always wary of being <em>that guy</em>, the obnoxious tourist thrusting a camera in everyone’s face. I even carry a long telephoto lens just so I can avoid being that guy.</p> -<p>However, despite the fact that the ceremony was not a public spectacle by any means, the procession most definitely was, since it was headed for the heart of Ubud, down to the meeting of the two rivers which is both a sacred sight for the locals and tourist central for the city. Perhaps that’s why no one seemed to mind us standing around the temple.</p> -<p>When we arrived only the men were at the temple. Most of them were turned out in immaculate white sarongs crisply tied without a fold out of place, topped with white shirts. Boys as young as five or six on up to teenagers were lined up to carry giant umbrellas, flags and various silk emblems which towered high above their heads on bamboo poles. The brigade of youngsters and the fluttering banners made up the front of the procession back to Ubud. The umbrellas and banners were used to shade the effigies of gods and demons that made up the middle of the procession.</p> -<div class="cluster"> -<span class="row-2"> - - <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_156.jpg" title="view larger image "> - <img class="pic66 " src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_156_pic66.jpg" alt="Effigies, ceremony procession, Tegallantang, Bali photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_156.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" ></a> - - - - - <a href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_159.jpg" title="view larger image "> - <img class="pic66 " src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_159_pic66.jpg" alt="Effigies, ceremony procession, Tegallantang, Bali photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_159.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" ></a> - - -</span> -</div> - -<p>The older men came next split into two groups, those warming up on drums, flutes and other musical instruments, and those still inside the temple, loading up the various offerings and even stone shrines, all of which they carried in groups, the weight slung between two long bamboo poles that rested on the shoulders of eight and sometimes ten men.</p> -<div class="picwide"> - <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_154.jpg " title="view larger image"> - <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_154_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_154_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_154_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_154_picwide-med.jpg" alt="temple procession, Ubud, Bali photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_154.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > - </a> -</div> - -<p>Once the men had all taken their places, as if on cue (though more likely via the walkie talkies some of the elders carried), the women arrived dressed in elaborate sarongs of rich gold and red silk. Most of the women, even the very young girls, wore thick coats of makeup on their faces, giving them a doll-like appearance reminiscent of Japanese geishas, though I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the image they had in mind.</p> -<div class="picwide"> - <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_151.jpg " title="view larger image"> - <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_151_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_151_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_151_picwide.jpg 2880w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_151_featured_jrnl.jpg 520w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_151_picwide-med.jpg" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_151_picwide.jpg" alt="Effigies, ceremony procession, Tegallantang, Bali photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_151.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > - </a> -</div> - -<p>Then, as with any parade you’ve ever seen, the band struck up a song. The children moved out in front, the older women placed their baskets on their heads, the men picked up their offerings and shrines and the whole affair began the slow walking march through the hills down into Ubud. We brought up the rear, the token tourists trailing the procession through the rice paddies and down the hill, past shops and restaurants, houses and even a resort or two until the street widened and eventually reached the main road through Ubud. </p> -<p>At that point we broke off and went up to a second story restaurant to have a beer and a bit of a snack, content to watch from a distance. As we sat upstairs in the fading light we watched as the river of white shirts hit the main road and flowed right, turning toward the city center, gradually growing smaller until the last white shirts disappeared down the hill.</p> -<div class="picwide"> - <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_167.jpg " title="view larger image"> - <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_167_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_167_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_167_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_167_picwide-med.jpg" alt="temple ceremony procession, Ubud, Bali photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_167.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > - </a> -</div> - </div> - - </article> - - - <div class="nav-wrapper"> - <nav id="page-navigation" class="page-border-top"> - <ul> - <li id="prev"><span class="bl">Previous:</span> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/06/motor-city-burning" rel="prev" title=" Motor City is Burning">Motor City is Burning</a> - </li> - <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/06/best-snorkeling-world" rel="next" title=" The Best Snorkeling in the World">The Best Snorkeling in the World</a> - </li> - </ul> - </nav> - </div> - - - - - - -<div class="comment--form--wrapper "> - -<div class="comment--form--header"> - <p class="hed">Thoughts?</p> - <p class="subhed">Please leave a reply:</p> -</div> -<form action="/comments/post/" method="post" class="comment--form"> - -<input type="hidden" name="rder" value="" /> - - - <input type="hidden" name="content_type" value="jrnl.entry" id="id_content_type"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="object_pk" value="127" id="id_object_pk"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833458" id="id_timestamp"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="32fcadd04303d87f078cd52625b018b425a91237" id="id_security_hash"> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_name">Name:</label> - <input type="text" name="name" maxlength="50" required id="id_name"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_email">Email address:</label> - <input type="email" name="email" required id="id_email"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_url">URL:</label> - <input type="url" name="url" id="id_url"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_comment">Comment:</label> - <div class="textarea-rounded"><textarea name="comment" cols="40" rows="10" maxlength="3000" required id="id_comment"> -</textarea></div> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset style="display:none;"> - <label for="id_honeypot">If you enter anything in this field your comment will be treated as spam:</label> - <input type="text" name="honeypot" id="id_honeypot"> - </fieldset> - - - <div class="submit"> - <input type="submit" name="post" class="submit-post btn" value="Post" /> - <input type="submit" name="preview" class="submit-preview btn" value="Preview" /> - </div> -</form> -<p style="font-size: 95%;"><strong>All comments are moderated</strong>, so you won’t see it right away. 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The island itself may in fact only be two hundred meters wide and two hundred meters long. To get from here to wherever we are staying? Two hundred meters. To get from here to the temple ceremony we were supposed to be at twenty minutes ago? Just two hundred meters more. The Balinese are either really bad at judging distance or unclear on the English words for numbers larger than two hundred.
-
-We've been walking up this hill for at least 2km and we still haven't caught sight of the temple, though now we can hear the drums, which is encouraging. One last local walks by, "Excuse me, it this the road to Tegallantang? Yes. How much farther is it? "Just up the road. Maybe two hundred meters."
-
-As it turns out, he's the only one to say two hundred meters and literally be right about it.
-
-<img src="images/2011/110618_Jun_18_bali_069.jpg" id="image-1950" class="picwide" />
-
-Two days earlier we were out wandering the streets when it started to rain. We ducked into the nearest restaurant for lunch. Toward the end of the meal, as the rain was dying down and we were getting ready to leave, the owner came over and started talking to us about Ubud. We ordered another beer and in the end he invited us out to his temple to see the temple's anniversary ceremony and procession through the city.
-
-At the time we were thinking of leaving for the islands east of Bali, but we decided to stick around for a couple of extra days to see the temple ceremony.
-
-Ubud grows on you. Sure, it has a lot of traffic and touristy elements and most of the shops sell things at prices roughly equal to what you'd expect in the States, but despite all that there's something about the place. Maybe it's the way every morning the streets are littered with tiny offerings, small banana leaf trays filled with flowers, bits of rice and other food, along with a few sticks of burning incense. Maybe it's the immaculate, constantly tended gardens that grace the courtyards of every restaurant and guesthouse you enter. Maybe it's the really awful, overpriced beer. No. Probably not that, but it does grow on you. Ubud that is, not the beer.
-
-
-With a few extra days on our hands we did a lot of walking. We walked around the temples of the sacred monkey forest where we saw one of the namesake gray-haired Macaques (small monkeys) re-enact the opening scene of 2001 with a battered old aerosol can. Eventually it stopped banging the can on the ground and just turned it around, upside down, shook it, bit it, threw it and otherwise seemed to be saying, [how do you work this thing](http://www.zefrank.com/theshow/archives/2006/05/051106.html)?
-
-<img src="images/2011/110616_Jun_16_bali_047_kwrSJLi.jpg" id="image-1949" class="picfull" />
-
-After four and half days though I'll admit I wasn't expecting much when we walked a couple of kilometers out of Ubud to the village of Tegallantang where we, along with a couple friends we met a few days earlier, met up with our friend from the restaurant.
-
-I've been to <a href="/jrnl/2005/nov/30/around-udaipur/" title="Luxagraf in Udaipur">a lot of Hindu temples</a>. Enough in fact that I don't feel the need to see any more, but Balinese temples are considerably different than Hindu temples in India. While Balinese temples look partly like Hindu temples in India, there are other elements that come from older religions. Bali is what happens when Hindu beliefs collide with animism. The Balinese seem to embrace the basic tenants of traditional Hinduism, but then add plenty of their own animist flourishes to the mix -- like frequent and elaborate temple ceremonies.
-
-<img src="images/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_122_QWqiA61.jpg" id="image-1954" class="picwide" />
-<img src="images/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_112.jpg" id="image-1951" class="picwide" />
-<img src="images/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_131_3HAN2T2.jpg" id="image-1955" class="picwide caption" />
-
-By the time we arrived the temple portion of the ceremony was already over, which is just as well because it felt vaguely intrusive to be the only white people standing outside the temple, and would have felt even more so if they had invited us in. And I have no doubt they would have, as we seemed to be the only people uneasy with our presence. I'm always wary of being <em>that guy</em>, the obnoxious tourist thrusting a camera in everyone's face. I even carry a long telephoto lens just so I can avoid being that guy.
-
-However, despite the fact that the ceremony was not a public spectacle by any means, the procession most definitely was, since it was headed for the heart of Ubud, down to the meeting of the two rivers which is both a sacred sight for the locals and tourist central for the city. Perhaps that's why no one seemed to mind us standing around the temple.
-
-When we arrived only the men were at the temple. Most of them were turned out in immaculate white sarongs crisply tied without a fold out of place, topped with white shirts. Boys as young as five or six on up to teenagers were lined up to carry giant umbrellas, flags and various silk emblems which towered high above their heads on bamboo poles. The brigade of youngsters and the fluttering banners made up the front of the procession back to Ubud. The umbrellas and banners were used to shade the effigies of gods and demons that made up the middle of the procession.
-
-<div class="cluster">
-<span class="row-2">
-<img src="images/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_156.jpg" id="image-1956" class="cluster pic66" />
-<img src="images/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_159.jpg" id="image-1957" class="cluster pic66" />
-</span>
-</div>
-
-The older men came next split into two groups, those warming up on drums, flutes and other musical instruments, and those still inside the temple, loading up the various offerings and even stone shrines, all of which they carried in groups, the weight slung between two long bamboo poles that rested on the shoulders of eight and sometimes ten men.
-
-<img src="images/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_154.jpg" id="image-1959" class="picwide" />
-
-Once the men had all taken their places, as if on cue (though more likely via the walkie talkies some of the elders carried), the women arrived dressed in elaborate sarongs of rich gold and red silk. Most of the women, even the very young girls, wore thick coats of makeup on their faces, giving them a doll-like appearance reminiscent of Japanese geishas, though I'm pretty sure that wasn't the image they had in mind.
-
-<img src="images/2011/110620_Jun_20_bali_151.jpg" id="image-1958" class="picwide" />
-
-Then, as with any parade you've ever seen, the band struck up a song. The children moved out in front, the older women placed their baskets on their heads, the men picked up their offerings and shrines and the whole affair began the slow walking march through the hills down into Ubud. We brought up the rear, the token tourists trailing the procession through the rice paddies and down the hill, past shops and restaurants, houses and even a resort or two until the street widened and eventually reached the main road through Ubud.
-
-At that point we broke off and went up to a second story restaurant to have a beer and a bit of a snack, content to watch from a distance. As we sat upstairs in the fading light we watched as the river of white shirts hit the main road and flowed right, turning toward the city center, gradually growing smaller until the last white shirts disappeared down the hill.
-
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It was hot, but I had been jumping in the salt water shower every half hour or so and that, combined with the oscillating fan on the floor at the foot of the bed, made the heat tolerable. </p> -<p>I lay on the bed, legs sticking to sheets. I had been lying there for several hours, with my tiny laptop on the bed next to me, trying to figure out why the Gili Islands disturbed me so much, trying to put my finger on what about this place made me so uncomfortable. I never came up with a precise answer, which is why I've never written anything about Gili Trawangan. </p> -<p><break></break></p> -<p>I tried writing about everything I thought was wrong with the Gilis, but in the end it wasn't the hordes of hippie tourists, the Australians behaving badly, the ridiculously overpriced food and lodging or even the cats -- the only thing I'm really allergic to -- everywhere on the island, nor was it even all of those things combined that bothered me.</p> -<p>On the face of it Gili Trawangan is quite nice. It's small enough to walk around in a day and is surrounded by crystal clear water with a reef that could, with a bit of conservation effort, be quite remarkable. Sadly, it isn't remarkable<sup id="fnr-001"><a href="#fn-001">[1]</a></sup>, but the few moments I did enjoy on Gili Trawangan were all moments when my head was underwater and I could willfully ignore everything on the beach behind me.</p> -<p><amp-img alt="Lombok as Viewed from Gili Trawangan, Indonesia" height="513" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/gilitrawangan.jpg" width="950"></amp-img></p> -<p>It's taken me months to realize what bothered me, but in the end it was clear. The problem with the Gili Islands is that they don't really exist.</p> -<p>What I mean by that is that the Gilis are not islands you go to and experience, rather they are ideas about what islands ought to be brought to life. The Gili Islands exist as a backdrop on which tourists can act out their fantasies about what "paradise" ought to be.</p> -<p>It's tempting to say there's nothing wrong with that, and maybe there isn't, but it isn't what I look for when I travel. Don't get me wrong, I didn't mind the crowds of the Gilis. The Gilis certainly aren't off the beaten path, but that's also something I've never been too interested in. </p> -<p>What interests me when I travel is the normal. It's been my experience that while the world is huge, it happens in very small, ordinary moments. I'm interested in seeing how things are done in all nooks and crooks of the planet. I enjoy seeing the daily life that happens on every street everywhere around the world. It's been my experience that every street, every park, every square has it's own form of ordinary and that any of it exists at all is extraordinary.</p> -<p>Looking for the ordinary has shaped the way I travel over the years. It's taught me to avoid the guesthouse when possible, to rent apartments where I can and to try to get to know blocks rather than neighborhoods, neighborhoods rather than cities. It's taught me that guidebooks are generally wrong and what you'll remember afterward are usually not things you'd planned to do. </p> -<p>I have no problem with popular tourist destinations, some of them are quite amazing -- there's a reason Pompeii and Angkor Wat are popular, because they're amazing places -- but they aren't what motivate me to leave home. </p> -<p>I realized months after I'd left the Gilis that I've never really been interested in the quest to find paradise. I own a house in what I consider a paradise. Athens GA is not perfect, but it's pretty near to paradise for me. If I were looking for paradise I wouldn't leave town much<sup id="fnr-002"><a href="#fn-002">[2]</a></sup></p> -<p>And that in the end is what the Gili Islands have to offer, a collective idea of what paradise looks like. The Gilis are a collection of paradise fantasies culled from decades of hippie travelers, scuba divers, honeymooners, and the rich, lost children of the West. </p> -<p>I eventually realized that the thing that made me uncomfortable, the thing that kept me up on what turned out to be our last night on Gili Trawangan, was the realization that <em>this exists because I am here. I am, however much against my will, now responsible for this. My money has now helped perpetuate this place.</em> I would not want to deny any paradise seeker the opportunity to act out their fantasy on the Gilis, but I prefer to be left out of it. Places like the Gilis can get along just fine without me. </p> -<ol class="footnote"> -<li id="fn-001"> -<p><span class="note1">Constantly dropping anchors on coral destroys reefs and, despite no shortage of mooring, nearly every boat that I saw pull into Gili Trawangan dropped anchor.</span><a class="footnoteBackLink" href="#fnr-001" title="Jump back to footnote 1 in the text.">↩</a></p> -</li> -<li id="fn-002"> -<p><span class="note2">By the same token if there comes a day when I no longer think Athens is a paradise I will pick up and leave.</span><a class="footnoteBackLink" href="#fnr-002" title="Jump back to footnote 2 in the text.">↩</a></p> -</li> -</ol> - </div> - </article> -</main> - -</body> -</html> diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/10/worst-place-on-earth.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/10/worst-place-on-earth.html deleted file mode 100644 index 8d10220..0000000 --- a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/10/worst-place-on-earth.html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,496 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html -class="detail single" dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> - -<head> - <title>The Worst Place On Earth - by Scott Gilbertson</title> - <meta charset="utf-8"> - <meta http-equiv="x-ua-compatible" content="ie=edge"> - <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> - <meta name="description" - content="The Gili Islands. 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It was hot, but I had been jumping in the salt water shower every half hour or so and that, combined with the oscillating fan on the floor at the foot of the bed, made the heat tolerable. </p> -<p>I lay on the bed, legs sticking to sheets. I had been lying there for several hours, with my tiny laptop on the bed next to me, trying to figure out why the Gili Islands disturbed me so much, trying to put my finger on what about this place made me so uncomfortable. I never came up with a precise answer, which is why I’ve never written anything about Gili Trawangan. </p> -<p>I tried writing about everything I thought was wrong with the Gilis, but in the end it wasn’t the hordes of hippie tourists, the Australians behaving badly, the ridiculously overpriced food and lodging or even the cats — the only thing I’m really allergic to — everywhere on the island, nor was it even all of those things combined that bothered me.</p> -<p>On the face of it Gili Trawangan is quite nice. It’s small enough to walk around in a day and is surrounded by crystal clear water with a reef that could, with a bit of conservation effort, be quite remarkable. Sadly, it isn’t remarkable<sup id="fnr-001"><a href="#fn-001">[1]</a></sup>, but the few moments I did enjoy on Gili Trawangan were all moments when my head was underwater and I could willfully ignore everything on the beach behind me.</p> -<div class="picwide"> - <a itemscope itemtype="http://schema.org/ImageObject" href="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/gili-trewangan-indonesia-2011-06-27_054651.jpg " title="view larger image"> - <img class="u-photo" itemprop="contentUrl" sizes="(max-width: 1439px) 100vw, (min-width: 1440px) 1440px" srcset="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/gili-trewangan-indonesia-2011-06-27_054651_picwide-sm.jpg 720w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/gili-trewangan-indonesia-2011-06-27_054651_picwide-med.jpg 1170w, https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/gili-trewangan-indonesia-2011-06-27_054651_picwide.jpg 2880w" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/2011/gili-trewangan-indonesia-2011-06-27_054651_picwide-med.jpg" alt="Lombok as Viewed from Gili Trawangan, Indonesia photographed by luxagraf" data-jslghtbx="https://images.luxagraf.net/original/2011/gili-trewangan-indonesia-2011-06-27_054651.jpg" data-jslghtbx-group="group" > - </a> -</div> - -<p>It’s taken me months to realize what bothered me, but in the end it was clear. The problem with the Gili Islands is that they don’t really exist.</p> -<p>What I mean by that is that the Gilis are not islands you go to and experience, rather they are ideas about what islands ought to be brought to life. The Gili Islands exist as a backdrop on which tourists can act out their fantasies about what “paradise” ought to be.</p> -<p>It’s tempting to say there’s nothing wrong with that, and maybe there isn’t, but it isn’t what I look for when I travel. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t mind the crowds of the Gilis. The Gilis certainly aren’t off the beaten path, but that’s also something I’ve never been too interested in. </p> -<p>What interests me when I travel is the normal. It’s been my experience that while the world is huge, it happens in very small, ordinary moments. I’m interested in seeing how things are done in all nooks and crooks of the planet. I enjoy seeing the daily life that happens on every street everywhere around the world. It’s been my experience that every street, every park, every square has it’s own form of ordinary and that any of it exists at all is extraordinary.</p> -<p>Looking for the ordinary has shaped the way I travel over the years. It’s taught me to avoid the guesthouse when possible, to rent apartments where I can and to try to get to know blocks rather than neighborhoods, neighborhoods rather than cities. It’s taught me that guidebooks are generally wrong and what you’ll remember afterward are usually not things you’d planned to do. </p> -<p>I have no problem with popular tourist destinations, some of them are quite amazing — there’s a reason Pompeii and Angkor Wat are popular, because they’re amazing places — but they aren’t what motivate me to leave home. </p> -<p>I realized months after I’d left the Gilis that I’ve never really been interested in the quest to find paradise. I own a house in what I consider a paradise. Athens GA is not perfect, but it’s pretty near to paradise for me. If I were looking for paradise I wouldn’t leave town much<sup id="fnr-002"><a href="#fn-002">[2]</a></sup></p> -<p>And that in the end is what the Gili Islands have to offer, a collective idea of what paradise looks like. The Gilis are a collection of paradise fantasies culled from decades of hippie travelers, scuba divers, honeymooners, and the rich, lost children of the West. </p> -<p>I eventually realized that the thing that made me uncomfortable, the thing that kept me up on what turned out to be our last night on Gili Trawangan, was the realization that <em>this exists because I am here. I am, however much against my will, now responsible for this. My money has now helped perpetuate this place.</em> I would not want to deny any paradise seeker the opportunity to act out their fantasy on the Gilis, but I prefer to be left out of it. Places like the Gilis can get along just fine without me. </p> -<ol class="footnote"> -<li id="fn-001"> -<p><span class="note1">Constantly dropping anchors on coral destroys reefs and, despite no shortage of mooring, nearly every boat that I saw pull into Gili Trawangan dropped anchor.</span><a href="#fnr-001" class="footnoteBackLink" title="Jump back to footnote 1 in the text.">↩</a></p> -</li> -<li id="fn-002"> -<p><span class="note2">By the same token if there comes a day when I no longer think Athens is a paradise I will pick up and leave.</span><a href="#fnr-002" class="footnoteBackLink" title="Jump back to footnote 2 in the text.">↩</a></p> -</li> -</ol> - </div> - - </article> - - - <div class="nav-wrapper"> - <nav id="page-navigation" class="page-border-top"> - <ul> - <li id="prev"><span class="bl">Previous:</span> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/06/best-snorkeling-world" rel="prev" title=" The Best Snorkeling in the World">The Best Snorkeling in the World</a> - </li> - <li id="next"><span class="bl">Next:</span> - <a href="/jrnl/2012/03/street-food-athens-georgia" rel="next" title=" Street Food in Athens Georgia">Street Food in Athens Georgia</a> - </li> - </ul> - </nav> - </div> - - - - - - -<p class="comments--header">7 Comments</p> - - - - - - - <div class="comments--wrapper"> - - <div id="comment-14" class="comment"> - <noscript class="datahashloader" data-hash="default"> - <img class="gravatar" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/gravcache/default.jpg" alt="gravatar icon for Ally Potter" /> - </noscript> - <div class="comment--head"> - <span class="who"><b><a href="http://oneseventyfour.wordpress.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Ally Potter</a></b></span> - <span class="when">January 17, 2015 at 1:51 a.m.</span> - </div> - - <div class="comment--body"> - - <p>Loved this post. Felt that I would feel the same, so hit up Nusa Lembongan instead and am currently sat reading your blog overlooking the serene ocean and feeling contented. Great blog!</p> - - </div> - </div> - - <div id="comment-18" class="comment"> - <noscript class="datahashloader" data-hash="d64f4854965b2b1c3ecafee4b2a66fac"> - <img class="gravatar" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/gravcache/d64f4854965b2b1c3ecafee4b2a66fac.jpg" alt="gravatar icon for Scott" /> - </noscript> - <div class="comment--head"> - <span class="who"><b><a href="https://luxagraf.net/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Scott</a></b></span> - <span class="when">January 22, 2015 at 8:18 p.m.</span> - </div> - - <div class="comment--body"> - - <p>@Ally-</p> -<p>Thanks for stopping by and I’m glad you like the site. </p> -<p>I hope you enjoy your time in Nusa, it is much, much better than the Gilis. I also hope that the internet on Nusa is faster than it used to be otherwise I fear luxagraf might be loading pretty slowly….</p> - - </div> - </div> - - <div id="comment-442" class="comment"> - <noscript class="datahashloader" data-hash="a73931c666b830f80060c6dff0693c63"> - <img class="gravatar" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/gravcache/a73931c666b830f80060c6dff0693c63.jpg" alt="gravatar icon for Laura Truelove" /> - </noscript> - <div class="comment--head"> - <span class="who"><b><a href="http://trueloves-travels.blogspot.co.uk" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Laura Truelove</a></b></span> - <span class="when">August 11, 2015 at 11:28 a.m.</span> - </div> - - <div class="comment--body"> - - <p>I’ve recently returned from a two month journey backpacking around Bali, and found myself spending four nights on Gili Trawangan (although I originally wanted to go to Gili Air as I’d heard this island was more beautiful, I mistakenly purchased a ticket for Gili T). I felt this similar feeling of disturbance whilst on the island and wasn’t sure whether this boiled down to the horribly mistreated horses they use as transport. I couldn’t have found any way to sum up that feeling in my own words, but you somehow managed to do it in yours. Great read!</p> - - </div> - </div> - - <div id="comment-447" class="comment"> - <noscript class="datahashloader" data-hash="d64f4854965b2b1c3ecafee4b2a66fac"> - <img class="gravatar" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/gravcache/d64f4854965b2b1c3ecafee4b2a66fac.jpg" alt="gravatar icon for Scott" /> - </noscript> - <div class="comment--head"> - <span class="who"><b><a href="https://luxagraf.net/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Scott</a></b></span> - <span class="when">August 12, 2015 at 10:03 a.m.</span> - </div> - - <div class="comment--body"> - - <p>@Laura-</p> -<p>Ah yes, the horses, I didn’t even get around to mentioning that. </p> -<p>Re-reading this now this post feels a little bit entitled on my part, but I dunno, some places, I guess they’re just not for me.</p> -<p>Anyway, hope you had fun in the rest of your travels and I added your site to my RSS reader.</p> - - </div> - </div> - - <div id="comment-1382" class="comment"> - <noscript class="datahashloader" data-hash="default"> - <img class="gravatar" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/gravcache/default.jpg" alt="gravatar icon for sean" /> - </noscript> - <div class="comment--head"> - <span class="who"><b>sean</b></span> - <span class="when">January 08, 2016 at 8:30 a.m.</span> - </div> - - <div class="comment--body"> - - <p>well put mate - manufactured paradise really doesn’t do it for me either and again I agree with you about staying somewhere for a few days and getting know the place your in - blocks, neighbourhood - rather than flying through and ticking off places… thanks for the report ( ps Spent time on Gili T and Lembongan myself - Lembongan definitely getting another visit - pretty sure Gili T won’t be)</p> - - </div> - </div> - - <div id="comment-2229" class="comment"> - <noscript class="datahashloader" data-hash="default"> - <img class="gravatar" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/gravcache/default.jpg" alt="gravatar icon for Michel K" /> - </noscript> - <div class="comment--head"> - <span class="who"><b>Michel K</b></span> - <span class="when">January 01, 2017 at 2:24 a.m.</span> - </div> - - <div class="comment--body"> - - <p>Thank you for this excellently written post. In fact, I was wondering about exactly the same ideas while walking from the east side of the island to its west. I had to pass by the “residential areas” and saw how unjust this world is. And when I arrived to the famous “sunset point”, I was thinking: “is it just me or is this island the worst destination on the planet?” I googled that thought and there you showed up. Thanks again.</p> - - </div> - </div> - - <div id="comment-2230" class="comment"> - <noscript class="datahashloader" data-hash="d64f4854965b2b1c3ecafee4b2a66fac"> - <img class="gravatar" src="https://images.luxagraf.net/gravcache/d64f4854965b2b1c3ecafee4b2a66fac.jpg" alt="gravatar icon for Scott" /> - </noscript> - <div class="comment--head"> - <span class="who"><b><a href="https://luxagraf.net/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Scott</a></b></span> - <span class="when">January 01, 2017 at 12:28 p.m.</span> - </div> - - <div class="comment--body"> - - <p>Michel- Glad you enjoyed the post, if not the islands. </p> -<p>I need to get this post to show up in google searches that people do <em>before</em> they go to Gili T.</p> -<p>sean- glad you liked it. And yes, I’d definitely go back to nusa lembongan.</p> - - </div> - </div> - - </div> - - -<div class="comment--form--wrapper comment-form-border"> - -<div class="comment--form--header"> - <p class="hed">Thoughts?</p> - <p class="subhed">Please leave a reply:</p> -</div> -<form action="/comments/post/" method="post" class="comment--form"> - -<input type="hidden" name="rder" value="" /> - - - <input type="hidden" name="content_type" value="jrnl.entry" id="id_content_type"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="object_pk" value="129" id="id_object_pk"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="timestamp" value="1596833455" id="id_timestamp"> - - - - <input type="hidden" name="security_hash" value="77a867f637ea6ca51a819050c91aa37ad411f281" id="id_security_hash"> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_name">Name:</label> - <input type="text" name="name" maxlength="50" required id="id_name"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_email">Email address:</label> - <input type="email" name="email" required id="id_email"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_url">URL:</label> - <input type="url" name="url" id="id_url"> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset > - <label for="id_comment">Comment:</label> - <div class="textarea-rounded"><textarea name="comment" cols="40" rows="10" maxlength="3000" required id="id_comment"> -</textarea></div> - </fieldset> - - - - <fieldset style="display:none;"> - <label for="id_honeypot">If you enter anything in this field your comment will be treated as spam:</label> - <input type="text" name="honeypot" id="id_honeypot"> - </fieldset> - - - <div class="submit"> - <input type="submit" name="post" class="submit-post btn" value="Post" /> - <input type="submit" name="preview" class="submit-preview btn" value="Preview" /> - </div> -</form> -<p style="font-size: 95%;"><strong>All comments are moderated</strong>, so you won’t see it right away. And please remember Kurt Vonnegut's rule: “god damn it, you’ve got to be kind.” You can use Markdown or HTML to format your comments. The allowed tags are <code><b>, <i>, <em>, <strong>, <a></code>. 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It was hot, but I had been jumping in the salt water shower every half hour or so and that, combined with the oscillating fan on the floor at the foot of the bed, made the heat tolerable.
-
-I lay on the bed, legs sticking to sheets. I had been lying there for several hours, with my tiny laptop on the bed next to me, trying to figure out why the Gili Islands disturbed me so much, trying to put my finger on what about this place made me so uncomfortable. I never came up with a precise answer, which is why I've never written anything about Gili Trawangan.
-
-I tried writing about everything I thought was wrong with the Gilis, but in the end it wasn't the hordes of hippie tourists, the Australians behaving badly, the ridiculously overpriced food and lodging or even the cats -- the only thing I'm really allergic to -- everywhere on the island, nor was it even all of those things combined that bothered me.
-
-On the face of it Gili Trawangan is quite nice. It's small enough to walk around in a day and is surrounded by crystal clear water with a reef that could, with a bit of conservation effort, be quite remarkable. Sadly, it isn't remarkable<sup id="fnr-001"><a href="#fn-001">[1]</a></sup>, but the few moments I did enjoy on Gili Trawangan were all moments when my head was underwater and I could willfully ignore everything on the beach behind me.
-
-<img src="images/ images/original/2017/gili-trewangan-indonesia-2011-06-27_054651.jpg" id="image-251" class="picwide" />
-
-It's taken me months to realize what bothered me, but in the end it was clear. The problem with the Gili Islands is that they don't really exist.
-
-What I mean by that is that the Gilis are not islands you go to and experience, rather they are ideas about what islands ought to be brought to life. The Gili Islands exist as a backdrop on which tourists can act out their fantasies about what "paradise" ought to be.
-
-It's tempting to say there's nothing wrong with that, and maybe there isn't, but it isn't what I look for when I travel. Don't get me wrong, I didn't mind the crowds of the Gilis. The Gilis certainly aren't off the beaten path, but that's also something I've never been too interested in.
-
-What interests me when I travel is the normal. It's been my experience that while the world is huge, it happens in very small, ordinary moments. I'm interested in seeing how things are done in all nooks and crooks of the planet. I enjoy seeing the daily life that happens on every street everywhere around the world. It's been my experience that every street, every park, every square has it's own form of ordinary and that any of it exists at all is extraordinary.
-
-Looking for the ordinary has shaped the way I travel over the years. It's taught me to avoid the guesthouse when possible, to rent apartments where I can and to try to get to know blocks rather than neighborhoods, neighborhoods rather than cities. It's taught me that guidebooks are generally wrong and what you'll remember afterward are usually not things you'd planned to do.
-
-I have no problem with popular tourist destinations, some of them are quite amazing -- there's a reason Pompeii and Angkor Wat are popular, because they're amazing places -- but they aren't what motivate me to leave home.
-
-I realized months after I'd left the Gilis that I've never really been interested in the quest to find paradise. I own a house in what I consider a paradise. Athens GA is not perfect, but it's pretty near to paradise for me. If I were looking for paradise I wouldn't leave town much<sup id="fnr-002"><a href="#fn-002">[2]</a></sup>
-
-And that in the end is what the Gili Islands have to offer, a collective idea of what paradise looks like. The Gilis are a collection of paradise fantasies culled from decades of hippie travelers, scuba divers, honeymooners, and the rich, lost children of the West.
-
-I eventually realized that the thing that made me uncomfortable, the thing that kept me up on what turned out to be our last night on Gili Trawangan, was the realization that *this exists because I am here. I am, however much against my will, now responsible for this. My money has now helped perpetuate this place.* I would not want to deny any paradise seeker the opportunity to act out their fantasy on the Gilis, but I prefer to be left out of it. Places like the Gilis can get along just fine without me.
-
-<ol class="footnote">
-<li id="fn-001">
-<p><span class="note1">Constantly dropping anchors on coral destroys reefs and, despite no shortage of mooring, nearly every boat that I saw pull into Gili Trawangan dropped anchor.</span><a href="#fnr-001" class="footnoteBackLink" title="Jump back to footnote 1 in the text.">↩</a></p>
-</li>
-<li id="fn-002">
-<p><span class="note2">By the same token if there comes a day when I no longer think Athens is a paradise I will pick up and leave.</span><a href="#fnr-002" class="footnoteBackLink" title="Jump back to footnote 2 in the text.">↩</a></p>
-</li>
-</ol> diff --git a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/index.html b/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/index.html deleted file mode 100644 index 775a643..0000000 --- a/bak/oldluxpages/jrnlold/2011/index.html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,172 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html dir="ltr" lang="en-US"> - -<head> - <title>Luxagraf - Topografical Writings: Archive</title> - <meta charset="utf-8"> - <meta http-equiv="x-ua-compatible" content="ie=edge"> - <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> - <meta name="description" - content="Luxagraf: recording journeys around the world and just next door."> - <meta name="author" content="Scott Gilbertson"> - <!--[if IE]> - <script src="/js/html5css3ie.min.js"></script> - <![endif]--> - <link rel="alternate" - type="application/rss+xml" - title="Luxagraf RSS feed" - href="https://luxagraf.net/rss/"> - <link rel="stylesheet" - href="/media/screenv8.css" - media="screen"> - <!--[if IE]> - <link rel="stylesheet" - href="/media/css/ie.css" - media="screen"> - 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<time datetime="2011-03-28T21:50:00-04:00">Mar 28, 2011</time> - </li> - </ul> - </li> - <li class="dater"><span>May 2011</span> - <ul> - <li class="arc-item"> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/05/from-here-we-go-sublime" title="From Here We Go Sublime">From Here We Go Sublime</a> - <time datetime="2011-05-29T02:35:00-04:00">May 29, 2011</time> - </li> - </ul> - </li> - <li class="dater"><span>June 2011</span> - <ul> - <li class="arc-item"> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/06/best-snorkeling-world" title="The Best Snorkeling in the World">The Best Snorkeling in the World</a> - <time datetime="2011-06-23T12:54:00-04:00">Jun 23, 2011</time> - </li> - <li class="arc-item"> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/06/temple-ceremony-ubud" title="The Balinese Temple Ceremony">The Balinese Temple Ceremony</a> - <time datetime="2011-06-19T10:25:00-04:00">Jun 19, 2011</time> - </li> - <li class="arc-item"> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/06/motor-city-burning" title="Motor City is Burning">Motor City is Burning</a> - <time datetime="2011-06-16T20:05:00-04:00">Jun 16, 2011</time> - </li> - <li class="arc-item"> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/06/cooking-rome" title="Cooking in Rome">Cooking in Rome</a> - <time datetime="2011-06-14T17:18:00-04:00">Jun 14, 2011</time> - </li> - <li class="arc-item"> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/06/natural-science" title="Natural Science">Natural Science</a> - <time datetime="2011-06-10T20:54:00-04:00">Jun 10, 2011</time> - </li> - <li class="arc-item"> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/06/forever-today" title="Forever Today">Forever Today</a> - <time datetime="2011-06-07T17:50:00-04:00">Jun 07, 2011</time> - </li> - <li class="arc-item"> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/06/new-pollution" title="The New Pollution">The New Pollution</a> - <time datetime="2011-06-06T08:17:00-04:00">Jun 06, 2011</time> - </li> - <li class="arc-item"> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/06/language-cities" title="The Language of Cities">The Language of Cities</a> - <time datetime="2011-06-04T00:05:00-04:00">Jun 04, 2011</time> - </li> - </ul> - </li> - <li class="dater"><span>October 2011</span> - <ul> - <li class="arc-item"> - <a href="/jrnl/2011/10/worst-place-on-earth" title="The Worst Place on Earth">The Worst Place on Earth</a> - <time datetime="2011-10-17T22:33:00-04:00">Oct 17, 2011</time> - </li> - </ul> - </li> - </ul> - - - <footer role="contentinfo"> - <nav class="bl"> - <ul> - <li><a href="/blogroll" title="Sites that inspire us">Blogroll</a></li> - <li><a href="/jrnl/feed.xml" title="RSS feed">Subscribe</a></li> - <li><a href="/contact/" title="contact luxagraf">Contact</a></li> - <li><a href="https://twitter.com/luxagraf" rel="me" title="follow luxagraf on Twitter">Twitter</a></li> - <li><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/luxagraf" rel="me" title="luxagraf on Flickr">Flickr</a></li> - <li><a href="https://www.facebook.com/luxagraf" rel="me" title="luxagraf on Facebook">Facebook</a></li> - <li><a href="https://www.instagram.com/luxagraf/" rel="me" title="luxagraf on Instacrap">Instacrap</a></li> - </ul> - </nav> - <p id="license"> - © 2003-2018 - <span class="h-card"><a class="p-name u-url" href="https://luxagraf.net/">Scott Gilbertson</a><data class="p-nickname" value="luxagraf"></data><data class="p-locality" value="Athens"></data><data class="p-region" value="Georgia"></data><data class="p-country-name" value="United States"></data></span>, except photos, which are licensed under the Creative Commons (<a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/" title="read the Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 deed">details</a>). - 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