A Bite Out of the Big Apple

New York City, travel, , ,

For us Washington, DC types, New York City can seem pretty daunting. But, with the right guidance and a spirit of adventure, it is also energizing and endlessly interesting. My guide for a short visit last week to “The City” as my mother used to call it (because she grew up in and around it) was one of my favorite people, Hanna, who I met way back in grad school in the 1980s.

Hanna met me at what is now called Moynihan Train Hall, aka Penn Station. The layout of the hall is confusing, and it took at least a half hour to figure out where to meet one another. (How did we ever find each other before cell phones?) I might have eventually found myself to her apartment in the Upper West Side (with an amazing view of the George Washington Bridge), but maybe not, so I really appreciated her city sherpa-like skills and willingness to fetch me.

During my first full day, Hanna and I had a morning nature walk along the Hudson River on the Fort Washington Park trail. She introduced me to the Little Red Lighthouse which is a testimony to the power of literature. The decommissioned lighthouse was in peril of being auctioned off in 1948m but was saved by lovers of a beloved children’s book by Hildegarde Swift and Lynd Ward. We also had a surprising encounter along the trail – see pictures below to find out what it was!

In the afternoon, Hanna walked me to the Cloisters, which is officially part of the Metropolitan Museum, located on the edge of Fort Tryon Park on a bluff above the Hudson. My curiosity to visit this relocated Medieval melange of buildings and artworks was piqued by recently reading the murder mystery, The Cloisters, by Katy Hays. (Encore, the power of literature?) Experiencing the atmosphere of somber gray stone and viewing masterpieces of religious art, tapestries, sculptures, stained glass, illuminated manuscripts and strangely shaped reliquaries made a couple of hours fly by. The gardens were not at their best in the winter, of course, but it’s a good reason to come back in the late spring/summer/fall sometime in the future.

Next day, I started off by visiting another museum I had never been to in NYC, the New York Historical Society, on the edge of Central Park. Hanna had business around 91st Street, so I walked from there to the museum’s 77th and Central Park West location, an adventure in and of itself. As my mother always explained, the numbered blocks in NYC are “short blocks” but by the time I reached the museum, they did not feel so short. The three floors of great exhibitions was worth the effort, though. I especially enjoyed the Tiffany Lamps, and learned that (of course) a woman, Clara Driscoll, designed most of them.

After Hanna caught up with me, we made our way to a Georgian restaurant, Chama Mama in Chelsea, and ordered that hot cheesy wonder, the khachapuri. Onward, fortified, to view the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire Memorial near (or even on) the NYU campus. Continuing on the power of literature theme, years ago I read the engrossing if quirky novel of historic New York, Dreamland, by Kevin Baker and never forgot the wrenching part about the fire and the (mostly young women) who perished in it.

The final exhibition visit was at the City Lore gallery, to view an exhibition on African American doll and puppet makers curated by another of my favorite people, Camila Bryce LaPorte, and friends/colleagues Diana N’Diaye and Phyllis May-Machunda. (The exhibition is only up for another couple of weeks, so visit fast if you’re in NYC or traveling there.)

After a jolly Japanese dinner with several NY area based folklore women, Hanna and I made our way back to her apartment (I definitely would have gotten lost on my own, as we transferred twice on this subway trip). Next day, after breakfast, she guided me back to Penn Station and I got on the train back to DC armed with “a bagel and a schmear” for the road.

A perfect post-retirement treat of a trip, all around, and largely thanks to Hanna. Here are some photos of the experience!

Hanna poses with her morning coffee near the Little Lighthouse. Note skyline in distance.
Apparently, displaced deer are not so unusual in this area, but this little girl calmly strolling in the shadow of the GW Bridge was a surprise to us!
There are no bad views of the interior of the Cloisters, it seems.
Okay, so Tunisia is still on my mind so I had to take a snap of this fanciful camel. It seems camels came to medieval Spain as a curiosity with “The Moors.”
There are several iconic gardens. Not much blooming outside but a few helibores and perrenial herbs this time of year, but you can see the potential and the setting is still gorgeous.
Edgar Allan Poe really got around during his relatively short life. I should write a blog sometime about my encounters with his memory in Baltimore, Charlottesville, Richmond, Providence, and now NYC. But I might need to visit the Raven statues first, which I did not this time around.
Also seen on my walk between the 90s and the 70s, a masterful knit bomb by artist Carmen Paulino, AKA Carmen Community Artist. I especially like the 3-D rat.
A view of the many variations of the Tiffany Lamps at the Historical Society Museum. There was a fun interactive in the upstairs portion where you could change the colors of the glass on a lampshade.
Khachapuri, a great reward for all that walking and art and history viewing. A salad on the side just because.
Triangle Fire memorial. It took us a minute to figure out you could see the names of all the victims reflected in the polished (glass? marble?)etched with quotes.
A great deal of information is packed into a small space in “The Calling: The Transformative Power of African American Doll and Puppet Making” exhibition at the City Lore gallery. Definitely worth a visit!

Pardon My Pumpkin

food,

Pumpkins have a bad rap. The (much ridiculed) “pumpkin spice” everything starts emerging around August now, and persists until the holidays. Halloween jack-o-lanterns sag and mold on porches until carted to the curb.

Apparently, though, the pumpkins that were just intended as fall decorations on people’s porches had a perfect preservation storm this fall. The weather was cool but not freezing, and the squirrels who usually munch on these easy targets had enough acorns and other tempting goodies to keep them happy. Thus, spurring my one-woman quest to Save the Pumpkins!

To make a rather long story shorter… I noticed a lot of pumpkins just hanging out on porches, even as holiday wreaths started appearing on doors. One neighbor even repurposed a couple of pumpkins into holiday decor by spray painting them gold, so Martha Stewart!

I sent a plea on our neighborhood listserve for any pumpkins still intact, saying I would use them for cooking. Within a couple of days I had eight rather large specimens in hand, or rather actually on our own front and back porch awaiting processing. Can you eat big pumpkins, people ask? This summary from the University of Nebraska Extension Service tells all. Yes, is the short answer.

One of these large orange orbs, I found, can yield up to fourteen cups of pumpkin pulp. But, as my research revealed, pumpkin is really the all purpose fruit/vegetable. You can sneak pumpkin pulp into just about everything. It can be the star of the dish (think pumpkin curry for instance) or it can just enhance the texture and add nutritional nuances. It can be incorporated into an almost infinite variety of sweet baked goods or savory treats.

I’m down to three pumpkins to process, and still thinking of ways to use it. I’ve done pumpkin biscuits, cookies, butter, soup, bars, hummus (this is particularly good), and I am excited to try next a pumpkin gnocchi with sage butter. I just did an online search to find recipes for most of these inspirations, though my friend Sallie sent me her secret pumpkin butter recipe. (Sorry, not sharing that!)

Despite all my pumpkin cooking efforts with fresh pulp and chunks, our freezer is also full of containers of processed pumpkin. So it is really the gift that keeps on giving. In summary, I feel my campaign to Save the Pumpkins has been a big success. Here are some photos of the adventures. Happy New Year to you all, and may your year be as fruitful as my pumpkin escapades!

Our own jack-o-lanterns back on Halloween. I must confess, I also rescued the undisturbed backs of these even before gathering intact pumpkins from neighbors.
Neighborhood pumpkin plea results, awaiting processing. There were more on the front porch as well as these on the back porch.
First stage in the processing is to split open and scoop out the insides. Roasted pumpkin seeds are a by-product, but even though I always try to get them all, I am sure the compost pile will be yielding our own pumpkin patch next year.
Big batch of pumpkin butter. I gave a lot of it away to friends and also delivered a container to each of the neighbors who donated to the cause.
Pumpkin butter was one of the components of our holiday cheese and charcuterie board, at center here.
Pumpkin snickerdoodle bars is the latest of the creations…to be brought to a party this very afternoon and hopefully a big hit!

Tunisian Testimonies, Part One: Impressions

travel, Tunisia

After an amazing trip full of colors, tastes, new sights, new friends, it’s hard to sort out all the impressions into coherent explanations. I can’t blame it on jet lag anymore, as it has been a week and half since we returned. It’s just so…unbelievable that we were actually there? Hard to summarize?

Ten days in Tunisia, about a thousands miles covered, eleven “cultural tourism experiences,” countless mosaics, tiles, and carved vaulted ceilings, and food… so much delicious food.

In days to come, I promise to put my thoughts and experiences into categories that will make sense and attempt to capture our rich and varied experiences. Right now, bear with me and enjoy the photos I sort of randomly grouped together into an album. I had my reasons. There are (from myself and my three fellow travelers) more than 1500 photos in our collective album, so I just grabbed a few and threw them together here.

So, more to come. Meanwhile, enjoy this kaleidoscope of photos to just get a glimpse of all the things we saw and did. I promise curated topics will be forthcoming!

Alaska By Sea, Part Two: Flora, Fauna and Impressive Ice

Alaska, travel, Uncategorized, , ,

In my last entry, I scratched the surface of the history and culture we encountered during our recent Alaska adventure. And teased that this second installment would do the same for the plants, animals – and glaciers.

Fauna first. Alaska is home to scads of land and aquatic animals, and of course hordes of birds, that is not exactly new news. We expected to see a fair amount of them, and we did. But it was usually from a distance, and the only binoculars we had were the ones the Viking folks kindly provided. Serviceable but not very good. So, lesson one: bring your own high powered binoculars if you go on an Alaska cruise, no matter how much space they take in your luggage!

I am particularly enamored of sea otters. (Who isn’t?) I’ve seen them “up close and personal” in Northern California and was somehow expecting to see them everywhere on our cruise. They were out there, just a bit too far away to appreciate. My pictures all show specs outlining their telltale head and flipper/feet profile. I began referring to them as “ESO” as in “elusive sea otter.”

There were bald eagles, orcas, other type of whales, seals, sea lions. A bear or two, salmon, mountain goats: all more or less from a distance. Instead of being disappointed, I started being philosophical about it. I knew they were out there, we were sharing space and I was experiencing and enjoying their landscape. But, really, why should I be impinging on their habitat and their peaceful day?

Flora second. The forests and foliage of Alaska are very cool. The best and closest chance we got to learn about the rainforest environment was a shore excursion to Glacier Gardens, a private and rather quirky swath of rainforest created by a man named Steve Bowhay and his wife beginning in the mid-1980s, and lovingly maintained and interpreted in detail by a cadre of seasonal devotee employees. First, you admire the “upside down trees” (uprooted in a storm, and “planted” roots up, with small gardens at the top, see photo) and other semi-maincured gardens at the base of the garden. Then, you ascend 600 feet up a corduroy (buried log) road in a sort of tram thing to a spectacular vista, learning about the rainforest as you go from the driver/guide. A bit terrifying, but very edifying and impressive.

And third, the glaciers. According to the U.S. Geological Survey web site, “A glacier is a large, perennial accumulation of crystalline ice, snow, rock, sediment, and often liquid water that originates on land and moves down slope under the influence of its own weight and gravity.” So, basically, a very, very slow-moving wall of ice that accumulates stuff as it goes. Too many glaciers to list, or even remember, were pointed out to us, some high in the mountain crevises. But the two most memorable ones to me were those that had reached the sea. They frequently shed big hunks (called “calving”) which I kept watching for but never really saw in action. But, no matter.

My two favorite glaciers that we saw on the trip were the Johns Hopkins Glacier which we sailed up as close as a hulking, 900-passenger cruise ship can get, and the Aialik Glacier which we saw even closer on a smaller boat during our tour of the Kenai Fjord National Park. Here is a very informative story map about glaciers at Kenai Fjords, if you are curious to know more about them. My impressive was a general disbelief that I was actually there, seeing them in person. And being really glad that, although I would have gotten a much closer look at both wildlife and glaciers, I was safe and relatively warm on my boat and not one of the people out there kayaking right up to the glacier. I like a good paddle, but I prefer the water and air temperature to be somewhat more temperate than even summer in Alaska, no matter how many layers of clothing I might have on and no matter what a good sweat I might work up.

It was sad when we had to disembark from the cruise ship in Seward and relegate ourselves to dry land. But the whole experience was enriching, awe-inspiring, and at times even breath-taking. (Literally, when a stiff wind and temperatures in the 40s hit you simultaneously.)

Here are some snaps, which don’t do justice really, but give some idea. And prove that despite my feeling of surreal disbelief, we were there. A highly recommended journey!

See the tiny black dot at center bottom? You guessed it, the ESO in its vast surroundings as seen from our statehouse balcony.
This is how extremely cute the ESO is up close, as seen in our ship’s naturalist’s photos. (I’m told up close and personal they are also not anywhere as cuddly as they appear and they smell very fishy.)
Most eagles we saw were hanging out, like this one, amid “civilization.” They have adapted quite well to living side by side with humans and their stuff it seems.
Where there are glaciers there are icebergs. And often, harbor seals hanging out on them, which you can (maybe) see on the far right and as tiny specks in the farther away bergs.
Most orcas are roughly the size of a school bus. But when seen in the context of the sweeping sea and landscapes of Alaska, and with only the aid of a phone camera, that just doesn’t register.
I loved the way that public art (even on a dumpster!) depicted the local wildlife.
Native art of course also reflects the natural world, as I reported in the last blog entry. Here, a walrus made of found materials including hub caps, at the State Museum in Juneau.
It helps to know your bears, and to heed the advice not to approach them. Though here in Valdez I didn’t see any real bears, as they were not hanging around the salmon run that day. Just as well?
Several times we learned how to remember the various types of salmon by the fingers on our hand: thumb/chum, pointer finger/sockeye (as the finger you would use to poke someone in the eye!), king/middle and longest finger, silver/ring, pinky/pin. But referring to this chart is handy too!
An interpretive native garden in downtown Skagway. We learned that the profusion of light (and of course ample rain) in the summer months makes things grow faster and bigger, so the shorter growing season is somewhat compensated. And, your rhubarb grows to be enormous.
“Upside down trees” at Glacier Gardens. Clever and a great for marketing the experience.
The road you ascend in Glacier Gardens, 600 feet up, with running commentary by the driver/guide.
View from the top of the hill.
The plant in the foreground is Devil’s Club, also known as Alaskan Ginseng (though it is not in the same family as American Ginseng). But you know it got my attention when I heard that knickname!
Like ginseng, Devil’s Club is proported to cure a variety of ills. The gift shop at Glacier Gardens carried products made from the plant, which apparently gets its name from its sharp and to-be-avoided spines!
On our trip over White’s Pass in Skagway, our guide showed us where the wild blueberries were at one of our scenic stops. Picked a few to try, a yummy taste of the wild!
Me, looking cold and not terribly happy, with Johns Hopkins Glacier in the background.
The glacier is a lot more attractive without me in the photo.
See the little black speck in the lower right hand portion of the photo? That is the kayakers at the base of Aialik Glacier. Call me unadventurous, but I preferred letting them lend scale to the photo than being them.

Alaska by Sea, Part 1: Towns

Alaska, tourism, travel, , , ,

My sister and I recently returned from our maiden Viking ocean cruise, through and around Alaska’s Inner Passage. And despite that we both got sick (we won’t elaborate on that part of the experience), it was a trippy trip through a constantly changing landscape, along the way gathering insights into the state’s culture and history. Even before we started getting feverish, the whole experience seemed somewhat surreal.

Shore excursions, lectures on board, visits to museums, and our own research via the ship’s very good wifi, filled our brains with details, most of which I will probably forget. One thing seared into our brain from repetition, though, was the fact that the U.S purchased Alaska from Russia in the 1867 for 7.2 million dollars, which was roughly two cents per acre.

While the scenery is spectacular, and the wildlife is abundant (though not always evident), in this installment I am going to focus on a brief report on the communities we visited during shore excursions. Each had its own interesting character and history that we dipped our toes into, making for a kaleidoscope of impressions and factoids.

Ketchikan: Our first stop, having begun in Vancouver and spending the first day “scenic cruising” our way north. In the morning we did the “included” tour to the Potlatch Totem Park, a private collection of totem poles, native structures, and for some strange reason, antique cars. They do have an impressive collection, and a totem pole carving workshop, and it was a good introduction to the art. But, our second excursion was more of the real deal: a visit to Saxman Village, a Tlingit community a few miles outside of Ketchikan. Here, our excellent young guide Herbert started right in on the short walk from the bus to the gathering place, telling us about the plants along the path, and continued being informative (with a touch of humor) throughout the visit. (He was also one of the dancers in a brief performance.) A highlight was their more authentic totem carving workshop, presided over by National Heritage Fellow Nathan Jackson, and younger carvers. For a folklorist, the afternoon was a real treat! They also had a nice gift shop.

Sitka: Second on the agenda was Sitka, where we learned more about Alaska’s Russian heritage and visited the site where the territory was turned over to the U.S. The visit began with a slightly weird but still fun dance interpretation of the town’s history from a group called Alaska Storytellers, and then we were free to wander the small downtown, explore St. Michael’s Russian Orthodox Cathedral, and climb Castle Hill to read more about the history. (Did I mention that Alaska was purchased for 7.2 million dollars which was 2 cents per acre?)

Skagway: Skagway was next in the line-up. Here we learned about the area’s role in the 1890s Klondike Gold Rush, during a narrated trip up the White Pass (by bus, though for an extra cost you could do it by a historic railroad) and through the great interpretation in various buildings back in town. It’s hard to fathom the thousands of (mostly men) hoping to find their fortune in this impossibly rugged terrain, on their way to the Yukon. The only people who actually got rich were those who were selling the goods needed to make the trip. Each would-be gold prospector was required to lug approximately a ton of goods (!!) over a series of steep mountain passes to the point where they would catch a steamboat to the gold fields.

Juneau: Alaska’s capital city was the next stop. Our shore excursion took us to the excellent State Museum, and then to a private rain forest garden a few miles out of town. We didn’t explore too much of the city itself, only enough to note that the state capital (across the street from the state museum) is not exactly a paragon of beauty. (More like a big concrete box.) There was a great mural by native artist Crystal Worl depicting Elizabeth Peratrovich, kick-ass Alaskan civil rights activist, my new hero.

Valdez: Last town to be explored was Valdez. After a two-day scenic sail during which we saw mostly mountains and glaciers, it was somewhat pleasant to see a peopled place. Valdez, I learned by visiting the various museums there, had been beset by a huge earthquake in the 1964. The quake and ensuing tsumani pretty much leveled the town and left a lot of traumatized residents behind. (The oral histories on video at the museum were harrowing!) And then there was the oil spill…

Since these places are all only accessible from the outside world by water or air, at this point in my life I will probably never have the opportunity to visit them again. (As the advertisements of the cruise kept telling us, this was after all a “once in a lifetime experience.”) But I’m glad I did experience each one for a day, if just to skim the surface of their layers of history and culture. Here are some photos of the experience.

First glimpse of Ketchikan, coming into the harbor.
Totem carving workshop #1, Potlatch Totem Park.
Totem carving workshop #2, Saxman Village. Making no comparisons between the two, just saying resident carver here is a National Heritage Fellow.
The infamous Seward (the guy who facilitated buying Alaska for 7.2 million dollars, which was how much per acre, now?) gets his own “shame pole” at Saxman Village. Herbert told us the story of why: Seward just did not get the concept of “potlatch” – that is, the community gives you lots of great presents, and then you are supposed to reciprocate. He left Alaska without giving the community anything, earning him this non-complimentary depiction.
(Self explanatory.)
Dancers perform the history of Sitka, including this interpretation of the sailing ships that brought the first white settlers (the Russians). Maybe they looked almost this pretty and ephermal from a distance to the native inhabitants, but unfortunately their occupants stayed, and just kept coming.
St. Michaels has a dramatic backdrop of mountains. It sits right at the end of a very commercial street full of cafes and souvenir shops.
Our lady of Sitka, one of the icons in St. Michaels.
The most famous building on Skagway’s main drag is the “AB” (Arctic Brotherhood) Buidling, covered with over 8,000 pieces of driftwood. Its now a visitor’s center and part of the historical interpretation around town.
Okay, so imagine yourself one of those thousands of souls who braved the Alaskan environment to find their fortune in the late 1880s. This is the sort of terrain of the White Pass you’d have to lug your gear and supplies over.
And this goldminer’s graveyard outside of town is where you’d end up if you didn’t make it.
Juneau welcome sign at the cruise ship dock.
Part of the great collection of the State Museum. About half the displays are devoted to native art of the region.
Valdez harbor. I opted out of kayaking on this trip since I thought I might get really cold. Probably a good thing.
Interior of the Maxine and Jesse Whitney Museum includes lots of impressive taxidermy. (One way to get up close and personal with Alaskan wildlife without being eaten or trampled.)
Valdez also has a lot of fun public art, including carved wooden sculptures sprinkled around town. Loved this bear who got the salmon before the fisherman did.
Meanwhile, at the docks, a real fisherwoman held tight to her catch, and was very proud indeed.
Preview of my next planned installment…glaciers, mountains, plants and wildlife!
Round center of historic roof of West Baden Springs hotel with green light at center.

Indiana Adventure II: Sampling Historic Splendor (for Free) in French Lick

#frenchlick, Indiana adventures, travel, Uncategorized,

Taking our trip around SW Indiana somewhat out of order, I am jumping to our day in French Lick and West Baden Springs, Indiana. In case you never heard of these historically significant towns, they are an example of those places where people took trains (or perhaps drove their motorcars) from “the city” (Indianapolis, or Chicago, or other Mid-Western metropolises) to “take the waters.”

The massive resorts had their ups and downs, which I will not elaborate on here, but happily survived Jesuits, fires, the Sheraton Hotel company, and other perils to be restored to their former glory. Today, the relatively wealthy and sometimes even famous spend time in the hallowed halls and grounds, getting spa treatments, gambling at the casino, taking in a show, playing golf or just relaxing. Peggy and I, however, took it all in (as the cheap voyeurs we are) without spending a dime.

Here, I shall share our itinerary for a couple of hours of historic splendor and awe. First, we did spend a few bucks fortifying ourselves with ice cream, and wandered around downtown French Lick. Unfortunately, it was Sunday and the historical museum was closed, but we got the gist of “Pluto Water” which was a one-time bottled product of the Springs, from objects readable from the museum’s window, and from an old advertisement on the side of one of the buildings. A jaunty, muscular devil was their brand icon, and their slogan was “When nature won’t, Pluto will” (I.e., this was a natural laxative kind of beverage).

Next, we drove across the road and parked (for free) at the expansive lot in front of the French Lick Hotel. On our way into the lobby, we read historic markers including one about the invention of tomato juice, and then ascended the impressive staircase. We marveled awhile at the ornate lobby, and inquired about the historic trolley which transports people to West Baden Springs, and stopped to glance over cases of historic artifacts (including more Pluto water paraphernalia) and the famous people photos.

Next, after waiting a few minutes at the charming little depot, we boarded the (free!) trolley for the one-mile clackety clack trip through the woods to West Baden Springs. We disembarked and headed straight into the hotel and through the lobby. Once dubbed “the Eighth Wonder of the World” (how many of those are there?), one really needs to experience the hotel’s massive central atrium, which features a 200-foot dome, for oneself to get a sense of its scale and unique design.

Luckily, again for free, mere mortals can loll on a couch in the atrium and stare up at the dome and the hotel rooms arranged around it, for as long as one likes. Peggy and I did just that, zoning out and watching the lights at the top of the dome changing colors. “Are we really here?” and “Is this really real?” we had to ask ourselves.

Breaking away from the mesmerizing atrium, we walked around the atrium to view the enormous Rookwood pottery fireplace, featuring “Sprudel” – an impish figure frolicking among the landscape of the artwork. We roamed the circular hallways enjoying historic photos, and spent a few minutes learning more about the property’s history in their tiny museum.

Here we learned that a movie had been recently shot in the hotel and on the grounds, called “How Cold the River” the plot of which leans heavily on a very ominous bottle of Pluto water. (We had to watch it, of course, after we got home to Peggy’s house. Not highly recommended for anything except the great views of the hotel, and a few laughs at the rather incomprehensible plot.)

After a brief amble around the garden, we climbed aboard the trolley to return through the woods and over the creek to French Lick, our car, and reality. Having spent not a penny, but all the richer for our trip through time and space.

Not actually The Devil, but Pluto, god of the underworld…close enough and still as creepy.
Splendor #1, the lobby of the French Lick Hotel. Thank goodness an influx of millions saved it from the renovation done by the Sheraton Hotel company, which covered the amazing tile work and other ornamentation. What were they thinking??
More homage to Pluto Water. The framed postcard at the bottom dated 1937 and says “Pluto keeps the tin canner on the can.” It looks like a camper made from a Pluto truck and/or advertising the water, which somehow was spotted in Kenosha, WI. That Pluto really got around.
First view of the West Baden Springs hotel, exterior. It is hard to fathom what lies inside from here, but still highly impressive from the outside.
And now… the star of the show! The Atrium. Note small love seat type couches, which is where we sprawled ourselves, totally entranced by the dome lights cycling through their colors. The windows all around the atrium are hotel rooms, and the approximately $300/night might be worth the view.
Though dwarfed (so to speak) by the Atrium, Sprudel’s fireplace, made up of hundreds of pieces of famous Rookwood pottery, burned 14 foot logs… so nothing to scoff at.
All aboard the magical historic trolley for the all too brief ride back to the real world!

Indiana Adventure I: Adze the World Turns

Indiana adventures, Uncategorized,

On a recent trip to Indiana, my old stomping grounds (from starting grad school in 1977 to leaving for a job at the Smithsonian in 1987), I had many adventures with my dear friend and fellow “wander Indiana” enthusiast, Peggy Sailors. I will report in a series of scenarios and photos!

Adventure #1 was a trip to Terre Haute to attend the “Art of the Adze” exhibition curated by colleague Jon Kay, the State Folklorist of Indiana. I had once held this position for a couple of years in the early 1980s, but he’s really done a much finer (and longer lasting) job of it, I must admit. He and his intrepid research assistant, Katya Chomitzky, curated this lovely exhibition on wooden bowl hewing (AKA “chopping”). They had planned a “Chop In” or “Chop-a-Thon” featuring a gaggle of wooden bowl artisans, which we could not miss.

This event took place at the otherwise tony small art museum, the Swope, in the middle of downtown Terre Haute. Just a wood chip’s toss from quiet galleries featuring works of Grant Wood, Edward Hopper, and Andy Warhol, among others, the din of the the chopping of three generations of bowl makers rang out joyfully. A museum volunteer gamely tried to contain the chips (which fell “where they may” and defied staying on the tarps that had been laid down to protect the floor) with a broom.

Present in spirit, and in memory, was the Father of All Indiana Bowl Choppers, Bill Day, from West Lebanon (may he rest in peace, though maybe he’s chopping bowls beyond the Pearly Gates and driving St. Peter to distraction?). Peggy and I had interviewed Bill and visited with him and his wife Marion while working on a state-wide crafts exhibition called “Materials at Hand.” (More about that at a later date, as it really bears a revisit.)

Bill was a short but powerful retired farmer, with a distinctive high-pitched scratchy voice and an even more distinctive laugh (something like the braying of a donkey combined with a buzz saw maybe?). He honed, so to speak, his already wide knowledge of working with wood into a second career of splitting logs for fence rails. Then, when Marion brought home an old wooden bowl from an antique store, he pondered how to make such a vessel. After perfecting the method (which requires hewing large pieces of green wood with a series of adzes) and making a noisy mess in their house, Marion shoed him out. He rented a small former utility building in “downtown” West Lebanon, dubbed Bill’s Chop Shop.

Bill’s work earns a prominent place in the exhibition, and his memory is well preserved by the older current choppers in attendance a the Chop-In. It was gratifying to hear them speak so fondly of Bill and his work, his generosity of spirit in teaching others, and his time as resident bowl chopper at the Indiana State Fair’s “Pioneer Village.” And also to see that the “art of the adze” is being passed on down the generations. (The youngest chopper in attendance at the event was a strapping 15-year old.) And to see that several women have found their way to bowl chopping, too!

Check out the exhibition and Chop-In!

Peggy (right) and me (left) pose in front of the sign that pays homage to Bill Day and even mentions us!

The sounds and sites of the Chop-In! Featuring in this grouping, the Ruble family, led by patriarch Keith, who succeeded Bill Day as chief bowl chopper at the State Fair. He taught his sons Andy and Luke and daughter in law Kasey, all seen (and heard) chopping here.

Choppers assembled to exchange info and get their photo taken in the gallery. Youngest chopper, Luke Boyll, is in right forefront with his teacher/mentor Blaine Berry.
View of exhibition showing in forefront some excellent examples of Bill Days work. (These were loaned by Peggy!)
Terre Haute, as it says on this historic marker, is located at the cross-roads of America, as this historic marker tells us. This spot being the crossing of US Highway 40 and 41. Which just goes to show that Indiana is at the center of all good adventures…so tune in next time for more!

The Festive Garden

Smithsonian Folklife Festival, tomatoes; garden,

Plants and gardens take a lot of knowledge and skill to thrive, and are an important part of traditional folklife. At this year’s Smithsonian Folklife Festival, which just wrapped on July 9, both programs had gardens and a host of participating gardeners to interpret them.

What happens to those gardens once the Festival closes and the staff enters the grueling days of taking apart this enormous outdoor undertaking, you may ask? Well, having done my part during one of those days earlier this week to dismantle the gardens (and having done it many, many years in the past as well, this having been my 37th Festival!), I am here to tell you that we do our best to find good homes for all the plants.

Sometimes that is in my back, side or front yard, I have to admit. For instance, last year I snagged a fig tree from the United Arab Emirates program. It was about five feet tall, and a little worse for the wear, but once established in our front garden it was looking pretty hopeful. When spring came, however, only its bare branches remained, sad and dead looking, and we almost pulled it out. But, low and behold, it was sprouting new life from the ground up!

There are other success stories of the perennial kind lurking in our garden as well. I planted some sort of silver leaved thing requested by a flower wreath maker from the 1999 New Hampshire program, and it threatened to take over one of my flower beds. It still pops up every year here and there, as does my share of the hops we obtained for the participants from Kent, England for the 2007 Roots of Virginia Culture program.

Last year, we worked with the Earth Sangha wild plant nursery to put together a native pollinator garden for our Earth Optimism program. We had three 4’x4′ planters with a variety of natives, a number of which are in my yard now and doing amazingly well. We also got Black Eyed Susan seeds donated from a seed nursery in Pennsylvania. I threw bunches of these seeds into a sort of dead zone behind one of our raised beds, and they grew rapaciously. They are now attracting goldfinches, who perch on the flower heads and pick at the seeds.

In short, leftover Festival plants are the proverbial “gift that keeps on giving.” As is the Festival in general.

The large planter and water feature around the Ozarks program “Teaching Garden” was particularly impressive at this year’s Festival. One of the most attractive gardens we ever had! Yay, team!
I introduced Mia Jones from Springfield, Missouri, who grows microgreens, for her presentation in the Ozarks Teaching Garden one day. That’s a project for this winter now that I’ve learned the right way to do it.
In addition to the awesome planting around the Teaching Garden structure, there was a whole big planter of herbs, veggies, and foraging plants. I fear there were not many takers for most of the foraging plants, which were things most gardeners would normally be pulling out of their garden or yard like dandelions and burdocks… but they are all edible so maybe you should reconsider that action?
Who knew you could make a marigold infused simple syrup for summery drinks? Note, some of the portulaca and peppers from the kitchen planters seen here will be finding new homes in our garden (as well as a quantity of marigolds which were all over the site, so I can hopefully try this recipe at home).
As if we really need more plants in our backyard?! This is a glimpse between two of our raised beds which host the 70+ tomatoes. Hey, we like plants and especially ones that produce tomatoes!

(Sea)Food for Thought in Rhode Island

Rhode Island, tourism, ,

Nothing beats a pile of fried whole bellied clams. Unless it’s twin lobster rolls. These are the truisms my sister and I discovered, along with the remarkable seaside and rural scenery, and the opulence of the Gilded Age, during a recent trip to Rhode Island.

She rented a cozy cottage about a ten minute walk from South Shore Beach for a couple of weeks, and I helped get her settled in and stayed a few days. The first day the weather was glorious, mid-70s and sunny, and we enjoyed our clams and fried shrimp at Evelyn’s Drive-In in Tiverton on a picnic bench near the water. By the next day, our long-awaited lobster rolls from Easton Beach Snack Bar outside of Newport had to be enjoyed in the car, as the temperature had plummeted into the 50s and the wind was stiff.

No matter, we had a good time regardless. In Newport we hopped on the free trolley bus, rode it to the end oohing and aahing over the lavish homes, deciding which ones we would want to own given the (not very likely) chance that we became billionaires, then got off and toured two of them: The Marble House and The Breakers. (We could have walked the Cliff Walk between the two, but we might have either frozen or been swept off the cliff’s edge by the wind, so we opted for the longer inland route.)

In addition to seafood and historic mansions, we sampled the local produce in the form of juicy, fresh-picked strawberries, and took some drives and walks in the vicinity of Little Compton to admire the impressive stone walls and quaint gray shingled cottages.

One story must be related regarding the cottage we were staying in: that is, the Mystery of the Weird Sound. The first day we were there, we noticed a sound like some animal growling, or snoring, or just a not very happy poltergeist, emanating from somewhere in the wall (?) or basement (??), loudest in the bedroom in one corner of the house. The owners, who live not too far away, came the next day to investigate and found nothing in the basement (much to our relief), so it remained an ever-present, non-ceasing mystery. I finally figured it must be the electric wires which are attached to the house on that side. They pass through a pretty substantial dogwood tree on their way to the house, and rub against the branches, thus probably causing the sound. My sister didn’t have to deal with it since the master bedroom was far from the sound, and I eventually got used to it, but it was truly creepy that first night!

Okay, so not exactly a Vanderbilt mansion, but the Hydrangea Cottage served our purposes. The hydrangeas were not out yet but they are there.

Yum, yum, whole bellied clams on left and shrimp on the right at Evelyn’s.
The plethora of classic Corvettes leant a time warp factor to Evelyn’s (or the idea that the drive-in doubled as a used Corvette sales area?) until we figured out a Corvette club was having a luncheon there.
Gilded Age splendor at the Marble House’s “Gothic” Room. The audio tour you can download on your phone is good, though bring headphones if you use it…another visitor complained because we had ours turned up too loud so we could both hear it! At the Breakers we couldn’t use it at all because there were too many people. They have printed versions as well, but the spoken narration was much more fun.
Trick of the eye umbrellas are painted on the ceiling of the portico of the Breakers looking out at the sea.
The tours take you “downstairs” into the kitchens and pantries as well. It took a lot of shiny copper pots and pans and a whole bank of stoves to prepare those eight course meals!
Breezy, freezy beach shore scenery.
Sakonnet lighthouse in the distance.
My attempt to take a panoramic photo of South Shore Beach creates a dark portal into another world… maybe the one that the Mystery Sound is coming from??
Two swans were braving the stiff wind on the pond across from the beach.
Last but not least…behold the chunks of deliciousness in the twin lobster rolls. And yes, I ate both of them. Good thing my current wardrobe includes almost exclusively elastic and drawstring waisted pants!

There’s More to Baltimore

Uncategorized,

Baltimore…so close to DC but a whole other experience. A couple of weeks ago, my sister was visiting from South Carolina, and we took a brief but action-packed journey to Charm City. She had some Marriot points, so we stayed “in style” right on the Inner Harbor near Pier 5. A room with a view from the 14th floor, no less.

The first things we did, after checking into our hotel, was to walk around the harbor to the Visitor Center. Here we met an amiable older gent named Sonny, who took us under his wing and gave us excellent suggestions on sites and how to get there. Handing us a map of the bus routes, he explained the free circulator bus that would get us just about anywhere worth going.

We ignored his first suggestion of visiting Fort McHenry, as we wanted to stay closer to the harbor. Instead, we took the short walk over to Cross Street Market in the Federal Hill neighborhood, and had a delicious Haitian vegetarian meal from one of the stands. Next, a visit to the incomparable American Visionary Arts Museum, also in the neighborhood. A brief but free water taxi ride later, we were back at our hotel to rest up before dinner. We picked Sonny’s choice, one of the oldest restaurants in nearby Little Italy, Chiapparelli‘s. Even though I thought there was no way to fit more food into my stomach, we then walked to Fell’s Point for gelato.

Our second day, we set out on the Circulator bus to the Johns Hopkins University campus, where the Baltimore Museum of Art is located. (First, we had to fortify ourselves by walking a few blocks east to a commercial strip of neighborhood for some coffee and bagels.) I was especially impressed by the Cone Sisters collection, which includes a lot of Impressionists and things that the rich sisters had bought from Gertrude Stein when she needed money.

Next, we set off for Lexington Market. You can’t take a free circulator bus there directly, so we had to do some map-reading to figure it out, but it was only about four blocks from the purple line route. The last time I visited Lexington Market, it was in the “old building” which is right next door to the “new building” which most businesses have moved to. Except Faidley’s, the quintessential destination for what is touted as the best crab cake in Baltimore, which we had to experience. Indeed, it is a masterpiece, especially eaten standing up at a wooden table. The patina of their of the old location, open since 1886, will never be matched if/when they move to the new building.

After a visit to the nearby graveyard where Edgar Allen Poe’s mortal remains reside, we realized that the “arts crawl” in the Bromo District that we had signed up for was – horrors – actually the next week (duh!), but that gave us a good excuse to go back to our hotel and chill for awhile before seeking a light dinner, and then indulging in a marathon Food Channel watching spree.

The next morning, we awoke to the golden light bouncing off the harborscape, packed up and took ourselves to the iconic (but perhaps overrated) Miss Shirley’s Cafe‘s downtown location, and drove back home. Only the fact that we had walked many miles both days kept us from having gained five pounds.

Left: View from the “Bird’s Nest” at the American Visionary Art Museum, looking toward main building and downtown. Below: Baltimore painted screen exhibition at the museum.

Free water taxi across the harbor.
Despite its many good points, trying to get from one point to another within the Baltimore Museum of Art is not intuitive in the least. We must have gone through the Jon Waters Rotunda, where this curious piece of art resides, at least four times to reach other exhibitions!
Now, that’s what I call a crab cake! It’s at least the size of a softball, maybe bigger.
Golden morning light on the harbor, looking west.