Kath took this photo of me while we were kayaking around a bay in the Southern Ocean, off the coast of Cintsa, South Africa, in 1999.
This was before I watched the various great white shark specials on the Discovery Channel. This area has around the highest number of reported attacks in the world, per capita. Shark Week might have me thinking twice about this these days…
Along the southern coast of South Africa, many of the hostels have this great tradition, called a sundowner. Basically, it involves buying a few boxes of wine, taking out the bags from the boxes, tying a rope to two corners of the wine bag (making it easier to sling over your shoulder), grabbing some cups and a dozen or so of the total strangers hanging around the hostel, marching up the highest sand dune you can find, and downing a few cups of wine while watching the sunset.
The only person from this photo that I remember is the guy with the stormtrooper shirt behind us.
Another photo from our South Africa trip in 1999. (I’m really seeing these for the first time in over 10 years, as I’ve just scanned them in from negatives as a part of converting all of my photos to a digital format for long-term preservation.)
We took every chance we could to ride horses on this trip. I think this picture was taken while on a sunrise ride near the town of Cintsa, along a coastal region called the Garden Route.
Kath took this picture of me in Camps Bay, on the western side of Cape Town, in August 1999. We left a hot New York City and found ourselves in the middle of a chilly and windy southern hemisphere winter.
Yesterday, I posted Jeff and Larry in NYC in August 1999. This is a shot of Katy and Kath, taken at the same time.
I don’t think that Kath’s hair has been that short since that time.
Kath and I were in NYC in August 1999, preparing to fly down to South Africa for a month. Jeff and Katy put us up for the night, and I snapped this photo of Jeff and Larry after a long day of work.
I love the matching shoulder bag straps…
I’m wrapping up a personal project of digitizing all of my photos, mostly going back to scanning the negatives, and in these dark days of winter, I thought I would share a few of the better ones that I’ve come across.
The photo above was taken on our honeymoon in August 1997, while we were in Istanbul. I think it is the Ayasofya Mosque behind us, and beyond that, the Bosphorus Strait. (Click on the photo for a higher resolution version.)
It is now pretty easy to pick out our house from space.
My mom tipped me off to this. The satellite imagery in Google Maps for my neighborhood was updated sometime in the past few weeks. For the longest time, we only had images from 2004, and now, they appear to be updated to early-2007.
Slightly before that time, I had to do some roof repairs on a flat area of my roof. I had a bit of extra tar when I was through, so I put it to use to beam some goodwill to space. I was hoping that the various satellites would pick it up, and now, finally, my favorite mapping site has caught up. Unfortunately (or fortunately), we had our roof redone a year or so after this image was made, so our next roof pic is likely to be more boring.
I don’t know if this is a good thing or not, but the NY Times has an article on their site that basically hits most of the cool spots around midtown Memphis.
http://travel.nytimes.com/2010/01/31/travel/31next.html
Some choice quotes from the article:
Damn. I think they pretty much nailed it. Does anyone else have some suggestions for spots they missed?
For the third year in a row, some friends and I have headed out from the cobblestones at the Mississippi River in downtown Memphis and walked, more or less, in a single direction. After going east in 2007 and south in 2008, we headed north-ish this year, looking to take in the northern reaches of the city, such as Greenlaw, Frayser, Raleigh, and then the suburbs beyond, such as Bartlett and Lakeland.
One big difference about the walk this year had to do with the temperature. I’ve had an unusually busy past few months, and this was the first weekend where it was possible to find a weekend day to do the walk. Unfortunately, it is also December, which usually means cold, even in Memphis, so it was a bit more brisk than the other walks, which were done in October. At sunrise, when we set off, the temperature was still a few degrees below freezing.
Despite the cold, some of the trees are still turning colors, like this one in front of the city government building on Main Street. We left the cobblestones and headed up into the hill into downtown, taking a left on Main Street and following it until we could cut over to Chelsea.
Did I mention that it was cold? It is hard to see in this picture of Richie and Robert, but there actually is steam coming out of the sewer, which is relatively rare, even in the winter in Memphis.
Chelsea is one of the more interesting, and disadvantaged, streets in Memphis. Sights like this Ford Explorer with a missing window and back tire are common. One could wonder which one went first.
Abandoned infrastructure was abundant, like this abandoned railroad bridge near Chelsea at Watkins.
Walking up Watkins toward Overton Crossing, we stopped to check out the trollies that looked as if they had been used for parts for the current MATA downtown trollies. Interestingly, all of these were covered in Spanish. It wasn’t clear if they has previously been in service in Mexico, Spain, or somewhere else.
A lot of the route was long and straight, such as this stretch of Watkins as it crosses the Wolf River. We talked about having seen this bridge from our Urban Wolf trip several years ago.
The small community of Rugby in North Memphis provided some of the most interesting sights of the trip, such as this large brick post that marked the entrance to the area.
Rugby is pretty disadvantaged, as is the neighboring community of Frayser. We came across several houses (and apartment buildings) with the doors kicked in and who knows what going on inside of them. At least the number of random loose dogs running around was pretty low, though the cold may have helped with that. A number of properties in the area are in bad shape. I wonder how much this one goes for…
I can never pass up a chance to get a picture of myself next to an interesting topiary. This one is outside a pet grooming place on Frayser Blvd.
One unexpected thing was the abundance of wildlife. We got a photo of this deer in a field right off of Frayser Blvd, while it was down in a field, searching for food.
The town of Bartlett marked the edge of Memphis and brought with it long stretches of stretches of Yale Road, where there was nothing to see but suburban houses, churches, schools, and more churches.
As we prepared to turn off of Yale Road and head up Summer Avenue toward Appling Road, Robert and Richie took a short rest. We didn’t take much downtime during this walk, just a coffee break in Frayser and a BBQ meal in Bartlett. The rest of the time, we were on the move.
Dave was out riding his motorcycle nearby, so he joined us for a bite at Fat Larry’s BBQ in Bartlett. They serve a very good representation of Memphis bar-b-que, and while not the best I’ve ever had, I was famished, and it really hit the spot.
Being winter, the sun started going down pretty early, so we tried to make up time by crossing fields, with the hope of getting to Lakeland by dusk.
We crossed the Memory Hill cemetery at sunset, and I got this shot of the fountain and ducks in the last few minutes of sunlight.
After crossing through some woods, we were eventually turned back by the growing darkness and the desire not to be shot by the wacky cul-de-sac McMansion owners whose yards we were going to have to cut through. By the end, we had Lakeland in sight, but a fence and some horse standing the woods marked the last point of our advance, and fearing a trespassing charge, we headed back the road and out to Germantown Parkway, for a gracious pickup by Dave, who had gone home for his car.
The total mileage for the walk was 22 miles, which easily makes it our longest walk to date. We were all sore and stiff at the end, but I found myself contemplating the route of next year’s trip on the way home. There is simply so much left of the city to explore.
Yesterday was the 5th annual Rhodes CajunFest, and it was probably our most successful one to date, if the speed in which the food was devoured was any indication. CajunFest was started by Bud Richey and Joby Dion, a couple of Rhodes alumni and employees that call Louisiana home and wanted to share the joy of cooking and eating Cajun food with the Rhodes community. The event is held every year on the day that Rhodes College plays football against our main rival, Sewanee.
The day is a long one, getting started about 6:30, setting up propane burners, fetching water, chopping a lot of veggies and meat, and cooking, cooking, cooking. This year, Kath came to help out, and she even got to stir the gumbo.
Bud has been our organizer for the past couple of years, doing a magnificent job at what must feel like herding cats at times. Bud always makes sure we have authentic ingredients, even to the point of driving to the Gulf and picking up fresh seafood and Andouille sausage, straight from the source.
Rhodes Professor Jack Streete really got into the spirit and probably had beads on before anyone else.
Sometimes, I forget what a beautiful place Rhodes can be. This is the scene in front of the library at 7 AM, with the campus deserted and the sun just peeking up over the treeline.
I like this photo of Wisch and his daughter, Toshie.
Oh, and Rhodes did win the football game, in overtime, 19-16.
Kath displayed and sold her pottery at a booth at the Vollintine-Evergreen Community Association (VECA) Forest Faire yesterday.
This year, Forest Faire, which is held a few blocks down the street from our house, was held in conjunction with a Wolf River Conservancy event nearby, resulting in more foot traffic than in years past. Kath sold quite a few of her new pieces, but I snapped a few photos of some of them before the sale really got rolling. Here is a nice bowl.
This is a swirly bowl with almost marble-like colors.
Kath made some pretty nice shot (or saki) glasses.
Here is a classic blue bowl.
Here is the multi-colored marble effect on a coffee mug.
The Forest Faire made for a long day, but the rain stayed away. (Thanks to Melissa and Gary for the use of the pop-over tent, just in case. Also, thanks to Marci for the offer of space to display the wares at the event.)
In other news, learn some advanced DOS strategies, follow Death on his blog, try to avoid laughing at things his dad says, and find out why I won’t read your script.
I was fortunate enough to experience a precious echo of an old Southern tradition yesterday, attending this year’s Otha Turner Family Goat Barbecue Picnic outside of Senatobia, Mississippi.
The picnic is an annual event held by the Turner family to help keep the memory alive of Otha Turner, a classic Mississippi hill country fife blues player that died in 2003 after a long, influential career. Fife and drum blues is not known well far beyond the South (mostly around Memphis and northwest Georgia), but it is one of the most traditional forms of the blues, with the use of instruments similar to those known in Africa to recently arrived slaves. While the standard, guitar-driven blues is more familiar, fife and drum blues (particularly those played with a traditional bamboo fife) can make the hair stand up on the back of your neck. It is a more stripped-down sound, often performed with no lyrics, where the fife player usually directs the drummers, which are playing snare, tom, or base drums, to carry a particular beat, while the fife plays over it.
The crowd this year was smaller than last year, according to some folks we talked to who attended the past few years, probably due to a North Mississippi All-Stars show at the Shell in Memphis. (The All-Stars have a big following in the area and have played the picnic in the past.) However, while there were fewer folks this year, the weather was excellent and the music was original and inspired.
The house to the right has the porch where the performers used to play, in years past. The old timers from the area staked out their spots early on the traditional porch. Everyone else needs to bring their own chair or blanket.
Frank and Steve really enjoyed the day. (Thanks to Steve and Leigh for bringing this event to our attention…)
Frank may look serious in this picture, but he definitely had a good time. And a goat BBQ sandwich, which we all tried. Yum! Canned beer was $2, the goat and pork BBQ sandwiches were $3.50, and you could even buy a fife for the kids that want to participate and learn a new skill.
The highlight of the evening, for me, is the fife and drum group that forms around sunset. They slowly move around the farm, playing and pausing, while the crowd floats around them, soaking it in. Kids that bought fifes joined in, mimicking the soloist, while the drums beat out an ancient rhythm. Magical. I dare you to just stand nearby and not start moving.
I hope I get the email next year announcing the event. This is something I definitely want to attend again.
I had a good time helping with Rhodes Cajunfest 2008, held on November 1st. It was an exhausting, long day, which started about 6:30 AM. I didn’t get home until after 3:30 PM, and it was pretty much total work, all the way through.
That’s not to say that we didn’t have fun; actually, we had a blast. Bud Richey, the Rhodes College Assistant VP of College Relations, has organized this event for 4 years now. The was the first year without the assistance of Joby Dion, who was sorely missed.
If you enjoy good, free food before an exciting football game, you could do worse than to watch the Rhodes College homepage next year for the announcement of the time/date of Cajunfest 2009! You might just be able to watch me cook some shrimp…
Thanks to Christina Huntington for the great photo!
Following in the footsteps of last year’s Memphis Walk, in which we treked from the cobblestones at the Mississippi River to the first decent pub we encountered in Collierville, nearly crossing the county in 8 hours of walking, this year we decided to head south. On Saturday, Richie, Robert, and I took off from the cobblestones again, but this time, we headed south, beside the river and then turning inland, down historic Main Street, then down Highway 61 and eventually Elvis Presley Boulevard (Highway 51), ending up in Southaven, Mississippi.
The weather couldn’t have been better. Clear, dry, with lots of sunshine, the sky was a glorious blue bowl, cool in the morning but warming to nearly 70 by mid-afternoon, with a gentle northeastern breeze. After setting out at sunrise, the first few miles passed quickly, as we skirted the river along Riverside Drive and then bounced up bluff to intersect with a deserted Main Street and some coffee at Bluff City Coffee. Our eyes freshly opened, we continued down Main Street, past the Arcade Restaurant, to take a left at Carolina (past the Active Bolt and Screw Company – you’ve got to love that name) and then a right onto 3rd Street, better known as Highway 61.
Highway 61 (also known as the B.B. King Highway) is famous around the world as the road that brought famous delta bluesmen to Memphis and points north, eventually making blues known around the world. Today, a large part of Highway 61 doesn’t betray much of its properous past, but it is still a very interesting road, featuring a liquor store inside of a metal cage, some burned out restaurants, a massive tire dumping ground, teddy bears tied to a pole, the world-renowned Interstate BBQ (mmmm!), and Nonconnah Creek.
Looking for a more direct shot into Mississippi, we wandered through the industrial wasteland that is Brooks Road (before most of the seedy hotels begin), discovering a carriage house from 1891 that has been covered to a bar, a car dealership specializing in tiny, 3-wheeled work vehicles, a sign that randomly simply stated “Thank You,” and a body shop that looked like a converted strip club.
Taking a right and heading south on Highway 51, we quickly entered the home of the cult of Elvis, reaching an apex at the hallowed ground of Graceland, where we dodged tour vans and helped fans snap pictures of themselves at the front gate. Heading further down the road, we entered the surprising prosperous community of Whitehaven, where the busy retail trade resembled anything but a struggling economy. Nearing the edge of Memphis, houses became more recessed from the road, revealing the few remaining spots of agriculture and a kid riding a dirt bike next to an abandoned 98 cent store.
Southaven, Mississippi. was poorer than we imagined, but we still managed to see a few cool things, including a Delorean, a Vixen 21, and a Pacer, as well as a place offering “unclaimed furniture.” Taking a left at Goodman Road, we hiked on toward Interstate 55, searching for a place with a decent pint and a place to get off of our aching feet. After some milling around and directions from guys holding up an advertisement across an intersection and talking to each other on cell phones, we finally happened on the Fox and the House Pub and Restaurant, tucked away in a strip mall behind a larger strip mall, where we sipped Red Ale and watched Ole Miss lose to the #2 team in the nation, Alabama.
All in all, it was a fun and relatively short walk, only taking 5 and a half hours to walk from downtown Memphis to the Mississippi state line. For most of the walk, there were sidewalks, but every convenience for pedestrians basically dried up by the time we entered Southaven. Every person we met along the way, no matter which neighborhood, was friendly to us, and despite some concern about the possibility of encountering abandoned and wild dogs, we only saw 4 dogs the whole day, and each of them wanted nothing to do with us.
This is a walk I can highly recommend. If you live in Memphis and want to take a really interesting trip without really leaving home, you could do far worse than just picking a direction in the city and heading out with some friends. You will gain a completely new perspective, something you just can’t get from a car or a bike, and you might acquire a newer, broadened sense of community and place.
I’ve been fascinated with Gibraltar for some time, and when the opportunity to visit popped up after our return to Spain via the ferry, we stashed our bags at a hostel near the ferry terminal and took a bus to La LÃnea de la Concepción and walked across the border to the British overseas territory. It was as fascinating as I had hoped.
Originally, we wanted to stay in Gibraltar, but we couldn’t find a hotel with any vacancies that we could afford, so we had to settle for a few short hours and a sunset meal. While we spoke the language, Gibraltar felt as different and interesting as Spain or Morocco had been – maybe even a little more.
For example, the runway in Gibraltar runs perpendicular to the main road (Winston Churchill Ave.) that enters the town from mainland Spain. There is literally a stoplight stops you from attempting to move across the runway when a jet is taking off or landing. Every bit of flat land in Gibraltar is used in some way.
On our way from Marrakesh to Fez on the train, everything rolled to a quick stop in the middle of nowhere. Outside our window was this sheepherder with his flock, and while you can’t tell from this photo, he was freaking out.
After some discussion in our cabin, we figured out that the train hit one of sheep while he was trying to cross the railroad tracks and the road. Apparently, livestock herders can demand immediate compensation from the railroad when things like this happen, and this guy really let loose and made sure that everyone know how upset he felt. Several folks from his small village came to join him and help with the “negotiations.”
On our way from Segovia to Becerril del Carpio to meet up with Christina’s parent, John and Harriet Ross, we stopped at a small town called Baños de Cerrato, located a few kilometers south of Palencia. Some of the sights mentioned in the Lonely Planet sounded interesting, particularly the chance to see the oldest church still standing in Spain, which was built by Visigoths way back in 661.
On our way out of town, I snapped a picture of this massive stork’s nest built above the bell tower of the town’s current church. These stork nests are all over Spain and Morocco, and they are considered good luck for the town where they are built, meaning they are very desired and protected. Interestingly, the storks in both countries don’t really play religious favorites as for where they build their nests. We saw them on church towers and mosque minerets alike. As long as it was the on the tallest structure around, the storks didn’t care.
I’m still not sure how they keep from being blown off, but I’ll leave that question to someone else and just enjoy the majesty of the balance of the entire structure.
In May 2008, Kath and I went on a wonderful trip to Spain and Morocco with Dave and Christina, and we had a wonderful time experiencing life in the small towns in northern Spain and contrasting that with the modern hustle-and-bustle of large Spanish and Moroccan towns.
Since we got back, I’ve been too busy to sit down and write about the experience, and I’m still too busy today. I’m hoping, thought, to start posting images from that trip, with a quick description of what we were doing, as a way to get down my thoughts before I forget many of the experiences. Undoubtedly, this will get very non-linear, so please excuse the jumping around.
The first photo was taking from a bridge (the Puente Principes de España) looking down on the Guggenheim. Kath and I had just toured the museum and were out getting a breath of fresh air. From here, you can see the side of the Guggenheim that faces the Nervion River, including the spider sculpture, called Maman (1999), and the walkway along the water, which gives you the sense of floating above the water. A storm was moving in, but we were able to make it across the bridge and back along the other side before it started drizzling.
As you can see, the Guggenheim building is simply stunning, covered in thin, shaped sheets of titanium. The way it reflects the sky and the colors around it gives you the sense of water, frozen but not ice, carved into wave-like shapes, at the same time functional and true to its surroundings.
Kath performed her first test firing on her kiln. The number on the front of the kiln indicates the temperature (2150 degrees F) near the peak of the 17-hour heating process.
