Traveling on My Mind

I'm updating my calendar today and looking at the possibility of doing 4 conferences in the next 11 months.  That is pretty ambitious, especially since three of them are out of the country (okay, two are only in Toronto, but, last I looked, Canada was still a different country).  I'm looking forward to taking E with me to Paris in April (she can try out her French for real and help her poor language-challenged mama).  I'm also looking forward to being more engaged in scholarly communities connected directly to my research.  The last time I did this was in 2009 and I count that year as one of my very, very best.  It ended in chaos with the arrival of Hank (the cystic schwannoma in my spine), but up until that derailed me in late November, I was flying high and it was due in large part to being constantly and deeply in the research on many fronts, presenting it to many different groups, etc. etc.  I also had one of those magical groups of students who loved the history, loved me, and loved each other.... and they fed off of my own scholarly zing.  I think it is worth trying for that again!

Arlington National Cemetary

Owen really wanted to go but then got a little shy once there. I'm not sure what it was... maybe thinking too much about the number of people buried there? I, however, found it to be far more peaceful and, frankly, interesting, than I had expected. We had some nice views of the Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Monument, and the Capitol. We talked about war, assissinations, politics, and symbolism.

Ally

On my last flight, I slogged my way to the way back of the plane and hopped over a super cute dyke to claim my window seat. As I was shuffling in, she said, "thank you."

Heh?

She pointed at the "ally" button on the bag and said, sincerely, "thank you for that."

I was surprised -- never having had anyone comment on it before. Then, I stumbled over an answer as I overthought just what it was that this button says about who I am. Saying "you're welcome" seemed so weird...as if I believed I was wearing that button as some sort of act of benevolence toward others rather than as a statement about how I believe the world should work.

I finally did mumble out something. That out of the way, I found I really wanted to ask her how it felt to be on that plane, amongst a sea of people (including my own Eddie Bauer-style self), who suddenly (to me, anyway) looked profoundly str8. I wanted to ask her if she always mentioned it when she saw ally support. I wanted to know what she really thought of the button and if she carried any of the same conflictedness I did... To me, she was the most interesting looking person around, but then the holder of the middle seat plopped down between us and all discussion stopped.

Cottage Trip 2011

The kids and I headed up to the UP for the end of July/early August. We celebrated Owen's 9th birthday with homemade apple pie and black walnut ice cream, spent a million hours on the beach and in warm Lake Michigan, saw a double rainbow, and went adventuring.




In Marquette we checked out the art fair, got turned away from Presque Isle park because an agitated young bull moose had taken up occupancy for the day, swam in Superior, and got ice cream at Jilbert's. The high point of the trip, however, was turning around to check out a sculpture garden called Lakenenland. The kids were asleep at this point, Emma rallied to take in a bit of it, but mostly, just my dad and I got to enjoy it. The park is free, whimsical, and political -- a damn fine combination, in my book. Plenty of social and political ideas inspired the art, but apparently the artist/owner of the land has had some run-ins with local authorities and for them, the artist had posted a "no trespassing" sign.





The other great adventure was a return trip to Grand Marais to climb the log slide/dune in Pictured Rocks and otherwise explore this beautiful area of beaches, dunes, rocks, and waterfalls.

Honu

Sure, beaches are grand, but I love to peer into the pools made by craggy lava rocks to see what's living there. On our first full day, O and I scrambled up some rocks at the end of Mauna Kea beach to explore and we found the first of many sea turtles. I never saw any turtles when we lived there in the '90s. My dad saw one while snorkeling when he came to visit and I was so jealous. I saw only one on our last visit -- swimming along at Hapuna and I followed it - with O in my arms -- along most of beach. This time, however, I saw turtles everywhere. I lost count after a while, but definitely encountered more than two dozen -- some on the beach and some while snorkeling. Amazing creatures...

I took them anyway...

The recent trip to SF merits several blog posts, but, for the moment, here are the pictures one must take when visiting California...

Hey, look, it's the Golden Gate Bridge!
(looking north from Bernal Hill)

And these critters are really big, but really kind of more mango colored...
(Big Basin State Park, outside Santa Cruz)

You can see for miles from up here...
(Marin/Muir Woods area)

Rocks and surf... sign me up!
(Shell Beach, Sonoma Coast State Park)

Okay, yeah, that is really tall...
(Big Basin, outside Santa Cruz)

Yes, I see why people live out there!

This time...

I want to go here. I didn't make it last time.


I'm really going to do research in the GLBT Historical Society, but the archives are only open a few hours here and there, so there will be time for playing as well.

Women's Bldg., SF -- one of the topics I'll be researching!

Cycling The Cotswolds

Hired a cycle at the Toy Shop in town. This is some of what I saw/did:

Morten-in-Marsh (and yes, they say the whole name every time!)

The Bell Inn, Morten-in-Marsh. I finally found a place to stay for the night and managed to not break the bank. And it is in a pub. With wireless. It was a long search up and down the high street with some kindly mis-guidance from very friendly locals but I now have a roof over my head, a slice of lasagna in my belly, and a pint in my hand. Now I can relax.

Here is the beer garden of my current abode, as viewed from the window of my room. Nice, eh?

Five Things

...I’ve decided I like about the English: The lilting, up-down-up way they roll out my first name; shops that sell seven different kinds of veggie sausages; colleges that have bars; duvets on every bed; grand halls.

Puzzling Bits

A few things that puzzle me about the English:
1. hot and cold taps are completely separate, making washing your hands in warm water nearly impossible.
2. their soft-spokenness that actually seems to increase with the size of the audience to whom they are speaking.
3. doors labeled clearly as “fire exits” that are the everyday and only exits from a building
4. their propensity to begin every conversation with a compliment – even if they are completely opposed to you, your argument, or the situation at hand
5. the lack of public toilets. Really, it’s not just that I look for such things in a professional capacity! I’ve been wandering around the city – a city that is full of tourists – and there is nowhere to pee! Much of the city center is taken up by these private colleges, so there is nothing to be found there (not even in the Bodleian library!) and the little pastry and sandwich shops that occupy every third or fourth storefront either don’t have these facilities, or they have them well hidden!

My First Day in Food

spinach pastry and a coffee on Broad St; mushroom and asparagus pie, with potatoes and peas; a red pepper and fennel risotto with goat cheese and an ale from the coast; my very own coffee shop.

I'm Here. Oxford.

I had a direct flight from that left in the evening. I had dinner on the plane while enjoying the recent Star Trek movie. I slept for as much as I could, awoke to the sun coming up and a beautiful view of the British Isles as we flew into London, and made my way through the customs queue in surprisingly good time.

Catching the bus to Oxford proved more challenging. Apparently, the “help” bus - the only one labeled as transport for the Central Bus Station - is for “special” people. I needed a regular city bus, which I hadn’t even looked at, since I had no money and was looking to stay on the airport grounds. I probably wasted nearly an hour getting on the right bus and riding to my location. The time didn’t actually bother me (I was in no rush), the careening of the bus around the airport left me feeling a bit green, however, a feeling that only increased when I had the “good fortune” to walk up to the Oxford bus just before it pulled out. I would have been better off waiting for the next one, but no, I hopped on, and then sat staring intently out the window hoping that I would just throw up so that I would feel better. Anyway, 45 minutes of hell later (and only a tiny bit of discreet puking) I dismounted in city center on a beautiful early fall day. And friendly folks at the tourist office pointed me in the direction of Keble (pictured) where I was to stay.

Finding Bliss

Spent ALL of Thursday packing and headed out early on Friday morning with the kids, bound for Blissfest in Bliss, MI. Way, way up there in the finger tips of the lower peninsula. There are many people who love this festival. There are kids who have grown up on it. People who have gotten married there. Etc. Etc. But then there are also just the summer festival people -- the ones who hit all the traditional music festivals and the young adults who spend their summer going from one festival to another, volunteering to get a free ticket. I don't think that I fit in any of these categories.... I kept forgetting where I was and calling it Dunegrass. It is older than Dunegrasss and does a few things better, but I think I like Dunegrass' musical offerings better (at least what they've had in the last two years, not going this year).

The kids loved the Lake Michigan was near by and happily played away Friday's late afternoon into early evening at a rocky and sandy beach outside Cross Village after a fabulous lunch at Legs Inn. On Saturday, we let the shuttle bus drop us further up the shore along the dunes for more beach frolicking. We caught some music, but that was obviously secondary for the kids. E again spent lots of time reading and O played hard in the kid space. Both enjoyed the rockin' craft-making booth set up for the kids and the real juggle sticks I bought them at one of the booths. I got them to check out some music, but mostly I had to listen from the edges as I kept my eye on them. I wish that festivals would set the kid areas up near one stage. I realize that I might miss lots of music on the other stages, but at least I'd get to better engage with what happened on the one stage. As it was at Bliss, I could hear bits of all the stages, which means that I could hear none of them well.

Of the music, Kathy Mattea was quite good, even the kids got into a bit of her set. The winner was a Canadian band, however, The McDades. Three siblings up front with a guitarist and drummer thrown in for good measure. I'd call them sort of urban traditional with a touch of jazz. I caught all of both their sets, amazingly enough.



Of the festival, my favorite part was the members party that happened in a garden behind the stage. There were shaded and pleasant places to sit, lots of food and free beer from Founders and New Holland, and one could still hear the bands.

From Bliss we hit Legs Inn for another meal (kids like Polish food and the excellent garden!) and then drove down to North Higgins State Park to meet Stacey and the boys for more camping. The three smaller people delighted in seeing each other and had great adventures on the hiking trails, at the beach, on the volleyball court, etc. etc.

As we packed things up for the last time, the kids worked out their own 'secret' three-way handshake, captured in this final image. Shhhh. Don't tell anyone.

Postcards

While I've been looking forward to plenty of adventuring this summer, the postcards that have been arriving at my house make me realize what small potatoes we have planned. Don't get me wrong, Michigan is a most excellent place to adventure when one treasures woods and water and music as much as we do, but... cards from South Carolina, Alaska, Vancouver, and Norway have me hankering to travel more widely. The postcard from Greece that will surely come next should pretty much send me over the edge. Good thing I ordered my new passport last week!

Freedom

Okay, Summer, I'm ready...

Shrine of the Modern

Houston is precisely the same age as Atlanta. You wouldn't know it from looking at it, though. The city is, according to one architectural historian, "notably unsentimental" about the past and the built environment of the central business district is certainly a testament to that. Houston is also the only major U.S. city with no zoning ordinances. This last bit is a tiny bit ironic since I was there to give a talk on, in part, the zoning for adult businesses in Minneapolis. The individualist orientation of Houston is most noticeable downtown in the buildings that span the street. Apparently the way downtown was platted, land owners owned to the middle of street and as long as they didn't block traffic, they were free to build away. And they did, creating an almost tunnel-like feel on many of the streets.

Downtown is chock full of skyscrapers built after the oil embargo of 1973 and before the U.S. oil market went bust in the 1980s. All the major oil companies built tall in that period, competing for height, shimmer, and bragging rights for capturing the hottest architects from around the world. There was a bit of public mindedness (or was it just competition?) so that several of these developments also include plazas, fountains, and, ah...., sculpture. Even though the architects came from all over, most gave a nod to climate of south Texas and put the steel frame on the exterior and set the windows back in so that the steel would offer a touch of shade. A touch is the right word, though. The setting sun reflecting off all that glass is a pretty amazing sight.

Houston has a couple of older neighborhoods. A tiny bit of the old 4th ward, the black neighborhood, still exists with its tiny streets and even tinier houses. These places looked like the tourist cabins you can still see in the UP, but closer together, all white, and under the shadow of downtown, separated by the elevated freeway that seems like a belt holding the skyscrapers together. A white working class neighborhood also still exists near downtown, but it has taken herculean efforts to save it and the results are mixed at best. Not surprisingly, THE wealthy neighborhood of River Oaks still exists, though even there some of the old houses are being torn down so that even more opulent abodes can be constructed. While there was a mix of housing styles, the modern theme of the city is still evident: flat roof, right angles, long footprints. There is a mark of the climate in the housing as well. Most of the homes are built to be quite narrow, not more than a room deep, so that windows can be opened to create cross-breezes.

One of the things that these wealthy, wealthy folks did was to collect art. The city has a sculpture garden and an art institute. One couple, John and Dominique de Menil, have had a stunning impact on Houston's built and cultural environment. They were instrumental in establishing the University of St Thomas and, a testament to their love of modern, had much of it designed by Philip Johnson. A block away, the couple worked with Mark Rothko to create the Rothko Chapel. A block in another direction they built the Byzantine Fresco Chapel Museum. Both these spaces called too heavily on the sacred for my tastes, but together with the university, one can certainly get a good sense of the modern vernacular: entrance ways that are so non-descript that they look more like loading docks than front doors, heavy use of concrete and steel girders that almost overshadow the lines and proportions of the designs, and lots of dimness/darkness. Much effort went into controlling the light... using natural light, but bending it, diminishing it...


The real heart of this neighborhood of art is the Menil Collection, however. Not only is there a good chunk of amazing art from the Menil's personal collection in this museum, but Dominique guided the design of the building with her very strong ideas about building accessibility and aesthetics. The collection is plunked down in the middle of a neighborhood of 1920s bungalows -- all of which, the museum and the houses, are painted this shade of gray/green with white trim that she chose. She was also adamant that art spaces should be about art... no parking lots (there is one a block away, everyone must walk past houses and sculpture to get to the entrance), no gift shops, no cafes, no gimmicks -- just white walls, diffused light, rough dark wood floors and lots of art that included everything from tribal masks to surreal paintings and modern sculpture. Amazing.

So there. That is what I saw during my weekend in Houston.