This week’s PhotoHunt theme was “wide,” which didn’t give me a lot of specific ideas. I did, however, welcome the chance to dig through some of my more recent travel photos.
While I did find a few wide candidates to choose from, I also noticed that I tend to gravitate towards photos of the narrow. (I’m not sure what that says about my personality. Maybe it says more about my camera.)
I posted some pictures last night from a visit to Paris in the Summer of 2007. Several people were quite taken with the dragon sculpture, which was made of recycled materials.
These are the two photos of it that I posted yesterday:
The first of these prompted the flying mum to ask: “…why does the dragon have a big ball of fluff for a face?”
Ah. An excellent question. It was actually just my angle for that shot, which didn’t do the dragon’s face justice. In the sense that it didn’t actually show that the dragon had a face. But it did. Have a face, that is. The “big ball of fluff” was the dragon’s fire and smoke breath, made of plastic bags.
Here are a few more photos, some of which show the dragon’s face:
There’s also a nice shot of the dragon over at a post called A sunny afternoon in Paris at the “Jardin des Plantes”, which has some more photos of and info about the botanical gardens.
I never ended up posting a lot of the photos I took on my trip to France and Germany in 2007, so I’m taking this daily posting as an excuse to share some of them.
These are from Le Jardin des Plantes (or “The Garden of Plants”), which is a large (and I do mean large) botanical garden in Paris, France.
The main garden path.
Various colors of flowers. I have no idea what kind any of these are. Well, the red ones look sort of chrysanthemum-like to me, and the yellow ones look daisy-like.
Gray flower. (Okay, it’s a drain. But it’s flower-shaped, and I thought it was cool.)
There was also a big dragon, made out of recycled materials.
Here’s a close-up of the claw of the dragon, showing its aluminum can scales.
Yes, the cans are what made me think of these photos, what with my preceding two can-related posts. I was going to post them yesterday, but was deflected from this path by the reflection theme. A reflection defection, as it were. Oddly enough, it was not the garden path that led me astray. I guess it was just something else shiny.
When my sister and I were growing up, we used to spend quite a few summers visiting our grandmother in Colorado. Part of our visit would always include at least one big camping trip in the Monster.
The Monster was a 1972 “motor home,” white with green stripes. My grandparents had been campers for many decades before buying the Monster, and had done their previous camping in sleeping bags and tents. When the big RVs started making their appearance, they would roll into campgrounds growling, rumbling and shaking the ground, sounding like monsters to those sleeping on the ground. So when my grandparents got one of their own, they named it the Monster.
The Monster was a big creature, though not large as RVs go. It had a big truck/van engine, and the sort of body with a bed over the cab. The back of the body was a combined kitchen-living-sleeping space, with a gas stove and oven, sink, small refrigerator, cabinets, and a hint of counter space on the driver side, and a table that converted to a bed on the passenger side. The cabinets over the table/bed could also be used as a sleeping bunk, though no one ever did this that I saw. There was also a small bathroom at the back, not much bigger than a shower stall. It had a toilet, sink and very small curtained shower area, which was always used only for storing buckets and other plumbing-related items. (For that matter, we didn’t often use any of Monster’s plumbing, as my grandmother liked to minimize the need to empty the Monster’s bladder, as it were.) There was green shag carpeting on the floor, and green and brown floral print on the bench cushions.
I loved those camping trips with my Grandmother. We had regular haunts that we’d visit in the Southwest. Mesa Verde. Arches. We’d often make a stop at the Four Corners Monument. We pretty much went to the Great Sand Dunes every summer that we visited. On longer trips, we’d explore new parks and monuments, as well as one or more of our regulars. My grandmother was nothing if not adventurous.
Our camping trips were full of ritual and tradition as well as adventure. We even had a regular camping site we’d return to time after time at the Sand Dunes. On the rare occasions that site was occupied on our arrival, we’d choose another inferior spot, and hope that the interlopers would vacate the next day so we could move back to our rightful spot.
Some of the rituals were pragmatic, such as the checklist we’d go over when leaving home, and when leaving each campsite. Stove Off? Check. Camp chairs loaded? Check. Louvered windows completely closed? Check. Things had to be locked down and stowed away before we headed off over the roads, which typically included steep mountain passes and rutted gravel roads.
One of our camping trip traditions was to collect aluminum beverage cans. Because the monster was a large beast, he guzzled gas. I expect he got about 10 miles to the gallon, probably less. The cans we collected would go towards feeding the Monster.
Back in the 70s and early 80s, littering was rampant, and recycling for environmental reasons was rare. People would redeem their cans and bottles for money, or just chuck them. In the Southwest, there was a lot of chucking. Some in the trash, and a whole lot on the side of the roads. We quite routinely would pull over on the side of the road if the glint of cans sparkled in the bright summer sunlight. We’d lug around big canvas bags, and wander around scavenging for cans. I can’t say that we did a whole lot of landscape beautification, as we’d leave other non-redeemable trash on the ground. But a fair amount of the roadside litter was cans. It would often feel a bit like being on a treasure hunt, or an Easter egg hunt. It was exciting to find a spot with lots of cans, disappointing when the glint turned out to be from a tin can or from some other non-redeemable packaging.
In campgrounds and picnic areas, we’d peer into the community trash barrels, looking for the glint of can. We didn’t really dig through the trash, that I recall. We’d typically just go for the surface fruits. In later years, when recycling bins started to make their appearance, we’d consider those cans off-limit. But cans on the ground or in the trash were fair game.
In the evening, or at times when we weren’t on the road, we would flatten the cans to compact them for easier storage. I have memories of my grandmother stepping on the cans in her sturdy brown leather boots. I still remember the feel of the aluminum can wrapping around my sneakered foot, stepping once in the middle before tamping down the top and bottom of the can.
After a trip, my grandmother would lug in the great bulging canvas bags to some sort of redemption center in the nearby city. I’m not sure how much money we tended to get from a typical trip, as she’d get only a penny or two per can. But we collected enough cans to cover a substantial percentage of Monster’s gas needs.
As I was saying, we just got home from a grand trip out to California to visit my sister and mother. I hope to share a bit more about the trip soon, but as Jen went and wrote some lovely things on her blog, I wanted to share a bit about our Monday-night visit, too.
Because, you see, I got to meet Jen (of one plus two), someone who I have long admired (or perhaps hero-worshipped) from afar. Since I won’t be able to go to BlogHer, where Jen and other fine bloggy folks will be gathering next month, and since Jen will be moving to Belize in a few short months, I felt compelled to make the effort to stalk Jen in person while I had the chance. Happily, she was open to being stalked, and even invited us over for dinner.
Jen is just as warm and beautiful and down-to-earth and magnificent as you might gather from reading her blog. And M and J were equally wonderful and charming. But I got to learn more than that. Jen is also a damn fine cook, and served up some tasty gnocchi with home-made pesto, some fantabulously delicious oven-roasted vegetables, and garlic bread made from bread that she baked herself. The littler diners were served a classic grilled cheese dinner (crust removed upon request) and a big bowl of strawberries. (Phoebe may have eaten more than a few strawberries.)
Phoebe and M, frightfully cute together.
Ten o’clock rolled around before we noticed, with our little ones romping and cavorting around us, up well past their bed-times. We stayed later than we’d planned, caught up in comfortable conversations, sitting on the living room floor. We talked about life and work: kids and travel and family, friends and blogging and bloggy friends, non-profits and language and disaster recovery. And a dozen other topics that I can’t even recall.
This was the first time I have met someone in person who I’d previously only known online. It wasn’t at all awkward, though. Instead, it felt like we were old friends, just picking up the conversation where we’d left off last. Even though, before this meeting, I could have passed Jen on the street without ever recognizing her.
I’ve thought quite a bit recently about the distinction people sometimes make between online friends and real-life friends. I’ve realized that the distinction is remarkably fuzzy, because the people behind the blogs I read are unquestionably real people. The joys and pains and tidbits they live and share are real, and they affect me in real ways. Through our conversations, the friendships become real.
Of course, it’s hard to beat the pleasure of getting together with friends in person. Especially when there is real food involved. (So I hope to meet more of you out there, too. I might even cook.)
Here is the last installment about my recent trip to Brazil. Sorry it’s so long, but I thought I should wrap up rather than drag things on. I also have some pictures from the last 2 days posted.
Dia 6:
I ended up choosing a moderately nice hotel in a moderately nice part of town. I felt like I splurged a bit, but the cost was only 129 Reais per night, which I think converts to around $80 (US dollars) a night.
I had grand plans to sleep in Saturday morning, which were disrupted by what sounded like a gaggle of teenage girls in the hallway from 7:00 on. I took my time getting going, anyhow, and went down to breakfast at 9:00. I was good and ready to eat, having actually skipped dinner the night before, almost unthinkable after my week-long binge of large meals every 2 to 2.5 hours.
A portion of my café da manhã: café com leite, pastries, watermelon, papaya and persimmon.
I went back to my room afterwards, and mostly lounged till it was time to head out for my 1:00 rendezvous with C, the student from the conference. Our plan was to go for lunch and then do some touristy and museum-oriented things afterwards. We met at the metro station from the previous night, about a 15 minute walk from my hotel. She was a bit late, and told me that her boyfriend would be meeting us, too. Once he showed up, we headed down to a vegetarian restaurant that he’d heard was nearby.
Lunch was very pleasant, and the restaurant (called Cheiro Verde, or “green smell”) overlooked a park across the street. We each got panquecas, pancake-like things filled with vegetables and baked in little ceramic dishes with gobs of cheesy sauce. Mine had some mandioquinha in it, a tasty yellow tuber, along with other more familiar vegetables. I also had a fresh juice with orange, papaya and passion fruit. We were treated to some live samba-type percussion music streaming in through the window, from a large group having a lesson in the park.
After lunch, and a brief stroll to check out the source of the music, we hopped on a couple of buses¹ to go to Ibirapuera Park, where we planned to visit the Afro-Brazilian museum. Since we started lunch late and hadn’t rushed, it was a few minutes after 4:00 by the time we got to the door of the museum. To discover that they had just changed the hours to close at 4:00, instead of the 5:00 that was posted on their website.
We dropped by the MAM (Museu de Arte Moderna, or Modern Art Museum) instead, also in the park, which had an exhibit of contemporary Brazilian and Japanese art, which I quite enjoyed.² (Interestingly, there was also a Contemporary Art museum in the park, which appeared to be hosting a modernist exhibit.)
It got dark promptly at 6:00 p.m., and as there is virtually no twilight, it was very dark when we left the museum to head back to the bus. C and her namorado invited me back to their home for dinner, and I accepted in spite of being tired. They ordered out for pizzas, one of which had corn as the topping, and C made some fresh juice (acerola and then star fruit). We hung out chatting, eating and watching a bit of TV, and then they were kind enough to call a cab for me.
Day 7
The next day I spent running around by myself. My flight was at 9 p.m., and I planned to head for the airport by 4. I wanted to head to some outdoor markets and try for a bit of shopping, as I hadn’t managed any so far. I went to the market held under the MASP (The São Paulo Art Museum), but it turned out to be all antiques, most of which appeared to be European and North American. And also expensive.
The feirinha under the MASP.
I then hopped on the subway to go to the Praça República, for a large outdoor market known for crafts and stones. I bought some stuff from a few stalls in rather a hurry, and then rushed back to the hotel to pack the new items and check out by 2:00.
Since I still had a couple of hours, and didn’t want to waste more time than needed sitting around, I left my bags at the front desk and I went out for one last jaunt. I hadn’t eaten lunch yet, and I wanted to stop by a grocery store. I strolled up to and along Avenida Paulista, in search of a place to eat. I ended up having a rather disappointing (and slow) lunch at a lanchonete with outdoor seating across from the MASP. (I had a grilled cheese sandwich and some overpriced french fries, but also some tasty fresh coconut juice.) It was later than I planned when I headed back to the hotel, but I did still stop by a small grocery store on my way, and loaded up on Brazilian chocolates and goodies for gifts.
I was going to take an airport bus from another nearby hotel.³ The hotel called me a cab⁴, and when I mentioned I would be taking the airport bus, the cab driver offered me a deal to take me directly to the airport. Things were slow due to it being Mother’s Day, he said, so he offered a fare of 60 Reais instead of the usual 90. I took him up on it, and thus got the airport much faster, and before dark even. It gave me a chance to take a few more photos on the way out of town.
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The last 2 days made a good end to my trip, and made me feel more like I was in Brazil rather than just being at a conference hotel. Also good for me was that I spoke almost no English the last 2 days. My Portuguese was starting to come back. (However, it did get harder for me to find words as the day got later.)
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¹ The public buses made for a wild ride, by the way. It was a bit like being on a rollercoaster without being strapped in. Happily, there were no upside-down loops.
² You can see some photos and short movies I took at the exhibit. You can also see a photo of me looking pregnant in that batch, in case you are curious.
³ I had toyed with the idea of taking the subway to a bus station, but I was pretty beat from running around. And realized it would be insanity to try to lug my luggage up the long hill to the Metro stop, followed by the 3 subway trains I’d need to take, and who knows what other obstacles.
⁴ “You’re a cab!” they said…
As promised (or threatened), here is the next installment of details of my recent trip to Brazil. (In case you haven’t been by in a while, I’ve posted a bunch of things, such as day 1, day 2, days 3 & 4, and day 4.5.)
Day 5
Friday was the last day of the conference, and my roommates and I arrived somewhat late after sleeping until the late hour of 7:30. There were more talks, lots more eating, and a final discussion session that was pretty interesting. (It largely turned into a debate between about 6 people, though, with the other 100+ just watching the show.)
My plan was to take the bus to São Paulo with a student, C, who was working at the conference. (She had also offered to show me around São Paulo a bit on Saturday afternoon.) It turned out to be later than she expected when she was ready to go, but a friend of hers did give us a ride to the bus station. There was a crazy long line at the station for bus tickets, and we weren’t able to get a bus until 8:20 p.m. It was quite a big bus station, with dozens of different bus companies and lines going all over the country.
The buses were all running a bit late, and the platform was crowded with people waiting to go to other smaller cities around the state, along with their copious bags and large boxes of things likely purchased at Campinas’ giant malls.
(Also, as I may have mentioned, not a whole lot of tourists go to Campinas. And waiting out on the crowded platform for the bus, I may have stood out as non-local. At one point, I noticed this guy who appeared to be taking a picture of me with his cell phone. He looked away sheepishly when I looked his way. What, don’t they get a lot of pasty-faced pregnant foreigners at the bus station?)
The bus was late arriving in Campinas, and then there was moderately unexpected traffic once we reached the São Paulo limits after 10 p.m. São Paulo, in case you are not aware, is a freakin’ gigantic city. With lots and lots of people. And lots and lots of cars. And lots of trucks passing through, which were apparently the source of the traffic jam.
After arriving at the São Paulo bus station, we took the Metro. We had to change trains a couple of times. My new friend C went with me to my Metro stop, and helped me get a cab before heading to her own Metro stop. Seeing as it was 11:00 at night, I was glad not be left standing alone, exhausted and largely clueless, not to mention loaded down with my baggage, on a busy street corner. It was 11:30 or so when I checked in at my hotel, and I was on the tired side.
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Still to come: my visit in São Paulo.
I also have just posted a bunch of photos from my trip. Like this one of the bottomless basket of pão de queijo offered for the conference coffee breaks.
Here are some bits that I wrote up while still in Brazil. I hope to fill in the last couple days soon, too, and share more of my photos.
(more of) Day 4:
The conference banquet was on Thursday night, and I was excited about going to it largely because it was held at an old coffee farm. It was a cool building, from what I saw, but it was already well after dark by the time we even left the conference hotel. So I saw very little.
I did enjoy the banquet, though the food wasn’t terribly exciting for me as a vegetarian. I got to eat a couple of hors d’oeuvres, the salad, the rice and the vegetables. I did like the couve (sauteed, finely shredded collard greens) and some sort of little dish of polenta with mushroom sauce that came in a ramekin (and looked like chocolate mousse). We also got to have this traditional Brazilian dessert:
The white bit is cheese, the orange is a sweet made from pumpkin, the green is made from orange peels, the red is a goiabada (guava paste), and the brown is doce de leite (basically, a dense caramel).
I had been commenting to people that I had yet to hear even a little bit of Brazilian music on my trip so far, so I was pleasantly surprised that there was a live band at the banquet playing MPB (“musica popular brasileira”) and various other Brazilian styles. (When the buses arrived at the farm house, there was also a guy with a saxaphone playing Garota de Ipanema/Girl from Ipanema, which actually made me laugh a bit. It seems to be the anthem played especially for foreigners.)
I got to sit next a new Brazilian friend of mine, F, and her husband. The music was so loud that I couldn’t actually have a conversation with anyone else at the table. But it was cool to sit with my new friends. We talked a bit about poverty in Brazil and the US, and I got to learn some things. For example, that there were about 40,000 people that had moved to Campinas since 1997 or so, and set up favelas just out of sight of the resort where the conference was held.
I tried to see the favelas from the hotel the next day, but the resort has high walls and trees all around the perimeter that block the view from the ground level. As I walked around admiring the gardens, I thought a lot about the contrast of the 5-star resort, with its sprawling recreation areas and mounds of expensive food, being so close to thousands of people living in cramped quarters and stark poverty.
I got home Monday. My flight arrived in Boston a bit before 11:00 am, and John and Phoebe met me at the airport. The return journey was a bit quicker than the way down, clocking in at about 18 hours. I had a 3 hour layover in New York. I managed to get maybe 3 hours of sleep on the flights.
I’ve been a bit out of it the last few days. I’m tired, for some odd reason. I have some posts and photos to share from my trip, but I keep running out of steam. Maybe tomorrow (she thinks for third day in a row…)
Phoebe and John did really well (without me!) last week, but I think that Phoebe is reacting to my trip a bit now that I’m home. She went to bed just fine on Monday, but last night and tonight were a challenge, eating up a lot of time and energy.
Tomorrow I head into Boston for work meetings again. Now that the conferences are behind me, I’m hoping to crank forward with my own research. I have some goals of stuff to accomplish before…um…late summer, when I’m expecting …um… some additional delays to my academic progress.
I’ve been trying to catch up on reading the various 100s of posts in my feed reader, but have managed to leave only one comment. I’ll try to drop in and say “hi” soon. You know, maybe tomorrow.
And here, to add a bit of color to this otherwise dull post, I’ll share a picture of São Paulo. This is a view from behind the MASP:
collecting tokens 