Snacking in Madrid

 Another picture that returned from the ether. This was dinner at some little hole in the wall in Madrid on the student trip to Spain and Portugal in November 2016 (yeah, I don't believe it was that long ago either). I think I'm definitely locking in to making my next student trip, which sadly won't be until November 2021, a return visit to Spain and/or Portugal.

I will post this on Facebook, mainly to see all my friends from Indiana who have never left the country freak out over the thought of eating it. Ah, simple pleasures.

Omar's Wedding

 These pictures showed up the other day. They are culled out of a larger stash of pictures taken during the wedding of our good Zanzibari friend Omar and his lovely bride at their recent wedding. My excellent friend and colleague Steve and I were invited to the wedding, but, sadly but obviously, couldn't attend, so we volunteered to pay for part of the wedding. Omar has been our friend for years now, and he's played such a key part in both our student trips but also in the efforts of TechDren to bring laptops to elementary school students there. The last couple visits Omar has lamented the fact that he didn't think he would ever be able to get married; he was waiting until he was more financially stable, which I think meant owned his own home, before finding a wife. Apparently it's all working out now, and this gives me some true happiness in the midst of a generally horrible year. The funny thing about all of this is that the wedding - and five total trips - and three student led trips - and TechDren - are all byproducts of my ex-fiancee Laura and I deciding to take a jolly there when we lived in Abu Dhabi. Life is so wonderfully odd.

Simple Pleasures

 I suppose I should call this Breakfast during the Pandemic, which would fit in with non-designated series of posts on life during the Great Isolation. However, there are so many other posts that would deserve that title. Here's a picture of a breakfast I whipped up the other day, eggs and appropriately crunchy homemade goetta. I've been trying to eat much more sensible breakfasts - low fat yogurt and granola - but three days a week I rev up the protein a bit because I'm going to the gym to lift weight. The other day I was wondering why it took so long at the gym, but then stopped and did the math: if you spend 40 minutes on the elliptical machine and then head into 17 (yeah, I didn't believe it either until I stopped and counted them) different weight lifting stations (each of them based on two sets of twelve reps) it takes a long time. And, still, I have no muscles (aging is cruel). However, even if I'm not getting the muscles I want I still need protein, so thus the bigger breakfasts. This may be as much a celebration of making my own goetta. During this new life, as we suffer through the coldness of the Great Isolation, I suppose it's not surprising that something simple, something that reminds me of a happier time, would give me such pleasure. 

The problem I'm facing now is that I've finally run out of goetta mix (pinhead oats), which I normally stock up on when I return to Cincinnati for a visit. I did find some on Amazon, naturally, although they only came in orders of six packages, which seems a lot even for me (although I could give them out as gifts to my friends).

Late Nights in Madrid

 I guess since I've been thinking about heading back to Spain and Portugal for a November 2021 student trip it's not too surprising that both countries have been on my mind. And so I found myself scrolling back through pictures of the November 2016 trip I led along with my wonderful friends Mike and Kelly. Here are some pictures I snapped at a restaurant somewhere in Madrid (seriously, I'll do some research and figure it out). The students were sorted so the three of us grabbed a meal. As is typical in Madrid (or most of Europe, truthfully, but especially in Madrid it seems) we were there for a long time because, unlike idiot Americans who are in a rush to go everyplace, their logic was why would we want to leave (and, as I've always said, Europeans are much saner than we are). About the time we thought about leaving a waiter would come around and coup us a small drab of some local delicacy as a way of saying thanks for staying.

I think Kelly and Mike were arm-wrestling to see who got to go on my next trip, and apparently Kelly won because she later went on one of the India trips (which means, I guess, that I owe Mike a trip).

Again, I have no idea what Mike is doing.

Independence Museum

 And more pictures from last January's trip Trip of Mystery to Namibia. I've been posting a lot of pictures recently from overseas (which was the original point of this blog low those many years ago), which is partially a byproduct of trying to clear off my phone and also my own frustration of being trapped here in the US. As I've pointed out a few times on Twitter, one of the great ironies of our Trumpian dystopia is that he started his reign trying to build a wall around America and then somehow managed to do, except that instead of keeping people out his mismanagement of the pandemic has resulted in no one accepting us as visitors. Anyway, here are a few pictures from the Independence Museum in downtown Windhoek, a museum that pays homage to Namibia's colonial and decolonial past - and especially the efforts to pass from one to the other.

Here's the entrance to the Independence Museum, featuring a statue of Sam Nujoma.

This mural is one of several artworks commemorating the Cassinga Massacre of 4 May 1978.

A closeup of the mural.

The museum is, naturally, unabashedly political and has a definite message. I'm thinking of including it this fall in my Aesthetic Expressions course along with a section featuring the Vagina Museum in London, UK and the Museum of Broken Relationships in Zagreb, Croatia.

And then, in some acceptance of the balance of life, on the roof of the Independence Museum there's a lovely little bar and restaurant with a nice view of downtown Windhoek. Truthfully, is this any different than any museum that sells art-themed t-shirts or postcards in the giftshop? You have to fund the art somehow.

Breakfast with Mike

 When you're leading student trips you often find yourself squirreling yourself with the other professor during meals to reflect on the day, adapt any scheduling, and take the temperature of the students (usually emotionally, although on the last trip to India it was also physically). It's harder to do at lunch because you're usually trying to move around and talk to every kid, which leaves supper (or late night jaunts) and especially breakfast. Here's a picture I stumbled across of my great friend Mike from the Portugal trip, which was, inexplicably, almost four years ago. I can't think of the name of the restaurant, but it was right around the corner from our hostel. My suspicion is that our well-intentioned effort to dissect the students quickly turned into a discussion about music.

I'm going to send this picture to Mike and see if he can remember what he was talking about, although it looks inspired.

Sundowner

 As I've proposed way too often, you can never tell what ends up being a memorable moment on a trip. All too often it ends up being something utterly spontaneous. On the recent Namibia trip, after a day spent exploring the extraordinary Sossusvlei, I found that I was scheduled for a Sundowner. Since my travel agent had done such a good job so far in planning the trip I wasn't too worried about it, but I was tired and the thought of getting out of the pool didn't sound that appetizing. The hotel was on the edge of a cliff, and I assumed that the Sundowner was simply walking up to the top to get to, duh, watch the sun go down. As it turns out it was far more substantial. It ended up being a two plus hour jeep ride that was led by a very nice young man named Niklaas Gowaseb, and the only people on the trip were Serina, the hairdresser from Osaka who I ended up travelling with from Windhoek, and me. As with the rest of Namibia the natural beauty was simply overpoweringly beautiful. It ended when we pulled up to the edge of the cliff and Niklaas asked me to help him carry a cooler. He then set up a mini-bar and we sat and watched the sun go down. It was easily one of the most memorable evenings of my long life.

Niklaas pointing out that these were oryx scat and not coffee beans.

Serina enjoying the view.

Heading out in our truck.

Mommy and baby oryx.

I might have moved a little closer to the end of the cliff if it weren't for the wind whipping so dramatically. It had "Idiot Tourist Falls to Death" headline written all over it.

Niklaas laying out the mini-bar.

Niklaas and Serina were a wonderful crew to enjoy the evening.

I recently sent this picture to my friend Steve and said, "Hey, Steve, I found a desert in Namibia." He was not surprised.

And the requisite sundown to end the Sundowner. I'm starting to miss Namibia so much. It took so long to plan, and, well, get there, that I assumed that I would only go there once. However, I think I've determined that I'm definitely going back. As much as I like travelling alone, I definitely want to go with someone next time just to share it all.

Self-Portrait 2020

 Previously I've posted self-portraits (not particularly artistic or serious ones, but, I suppose, sincere ones). In our Concepts of the Self class (now sadly gone) the students all had to prepare a self-portrait, and I would often prepare my own so that we could share in the process. This was not a staged self-portrait, but rather simply a picture I snapped the other night. My traditional treat for myself on Thursday nights after I leave the Food Shelf is to stop at Al's to get carry-out. As I was waiting for the order I saw my prayer beads and name tag hanging together from the mirror, and, huzzah, another year's self-portrait. I used to tell my students that they should really prepare another self-portrait every five years or so, even if they just then stuck it in the back of their closet, so that they could take a look at them every so often and reflect upon their journey.

In the midst of the pandemic madness some combination of faith and service is keeping me sane, I suppose by keeping me grounded. And, cycling back to the point about creating a series of self-portraits, I suspect it wouldn't have been that many years ago that I would have rolled my eyes at a similar post from someone who cited faith and service as being essential.

The Boy, Once Again

 Just another picture of my son. I swiped this off of a text he sent me. He often sneaks away with his girlfriend or friends to hike on the weekends. As my friend David Kite has often proposed, what's the point of living in Vermont if you don't live in Vermont. 

The last few years haven't brought me much happiness, but one constant source of happiness has been my son.He's a wonderful, caring, compassionate man, and I'm so proud of him (which I tell him as many times as I can).

The Golden Age

 This relates to a running joke among my friends wherein I pointed out that once the second wave (although the first wave never subsided, truly, in this Trumpian hell we live in) of the pandemic hits in the fall we'll reflect back to something as simple as sitting on the deck of the St. John's Club as the Golden Age. It's taken on a life of its own and now we routinely refer to this as the Golden Age, with the appropriate degree of gallow's humor. 

However, even within this Golden Age, there have been truly golden moments. Last week a small crew of us (like a lot of folks during the pandemic, we tend to hang out in small clusters of folks who we trust, and even then we socially distance and wear masks as much as we can) us took the ferry over to Essex to grab dinner at a lovely little family restaurant called Chez Lin and Ray's Lakeside Dining. It is highly recommended. I don't know if it's a hundred yards removed from where you get off the ferry (you take a quick left). It has the requisite lovely view of the lake and the food was wonderful. And, truthfully, considering the appetizers (including escargot), rich meals (appropriately European sized), bottles of wines, port and desserts, I thought it was very affordable. We'll definitely be back before the Golden Age ends.

The crew, catching the ferry at Charlotte.

Truthfully, the ferry tide alone would have made the trip worthwhile. Essex, New York in the distance.

And here we are. It's a little family-owned place. Marcelle knew the son and this is what led us here in the first place.

Debbie checking her phone and Sandy mid-story.

Kevin amused at me taking another picture and Marcelle providing jazz hands.

Crab cake ravioli. Quite delicious.

The trip back, with the boys being mischievous.

Marcelle and I discussing Milan Kundera's The Book of Laughter and Forgetting, which I had recently suggested to her.

This seems like an appropriate metaphor for 2020.

Pulling back into Charlotte. My friend Cyndi is wont to opine that I value friendship more than anyone she knows. I don't know if that's true, but I do cherish them, especially now during the Great Isolation.

Missing Portugal

 There is nothing profound going on here, other than the fact that I'm missing Portugal. One of my students from last fall's wonderful Jordan trip started pestering me to see when the next trips were planned, which, sadly because of the pandemic, probably won't be until the 2021-2022 school year. I told her that I was considering Jordan for a Thanksgiving trip again, but that since she had already taken the trip she couldn't take the new one. So, like any good student, she pressured me to change my entire schedule to fit her needs (she's becoming the new Liza), which sounded like a plan to me. So, I could move Jordan to spring break 2022, but then what about Thanksgiving? And it brought me back to my first Thanksgiving trip, when we took students to Spain and Portugal. Hmmm, I think I know where this is headed.

I think this paella has its unique color because of squid ink, or at least that's my memory of it. All I know for certain is that it was delicious.

But Bring a Spare

 So this showed up in the mail yesterday. I don't think I've reached the point of matching my mask with my outfit (or even ever matching my outfit) but I've definitely reached the stage of looking for certain masks (and being dissatisfied with the availability of CFL masks). My friend Jack immediately point this in the appropriate context when he pointed out: "Be sure to bring a spare. They only last 6 innings." To get the joke you have to have followed the trials and tribulations of the Reds terrible bullpen.

My friend Ellen asked if it absorbed tears.

Overlooking Dubrovnik - and other things

 As we all know there are few things rarer in the world than good pictures of me, but I think this almost qualifies as one. Laura snapped this of me on our trip to Croatia, overlooking Dubrovnik.

It's hard to imagine I lived that life.

Dubrovnik Street Scenes

 Yes, more scenes from the past. I keep trying to keep ahead of melancholy, which just intensifies the melancholy. The problem is that when we think about the past and paths not taken, it's easy to forget that there were reasons at that time that we didn't take the path. Of course, that doesn't mean the reasons were good, especially in regards to the long unfolding of our lives, but it's important to keep in mind that the decisions weren't made in a vacuum. The Croatia trip was supposed to be a grand goodbye, but instead it became a confirmation to try and stay together, and we did, at least for another year.