~ wander.essence ~

american signs in cincinnati, ohio

wanderessence1025 August 1, 2019

Going to the American Sign Museum in Cincinnati, Ohio was like going back in time to my childhood and reliving road trips I’d enjoyed in the 1960s and 1970s. It took me on a tour of small town America and iconic hotels and food establishments. This was one of the most enjoyable places I visited in Cincinnati, a photographer’s delight.

Entrance to the American Sighn Museum

giant pig

baseball grounds & radio stations

Fashion Frocks

Building a Better Future

Holiday Inn

Signs of the Times & bowling pin

According to the museum, signs are the oldest form of advertising and have been documented in ancient Egyptian, Greek and Roman civilizations, as well as the Middle Ages. Signs have been symbolic throughout history and have taken shape as “trade signs.” These are visual images – painted, but more often three-dimensional — that represent the business, product, or service. A dentist might have a large tooth representing his office, a cobbler might have a large shoe.

The use of letters is a more recent development, mainly from the mid to late-19th century. At first letters were flat-painted onto a background, but the cut-out letter soon followed.

Hand-carved and gilded letters appeared in the 1890s, and moved to the first electric signs of the Lightbulb Era, represented by a lightbulb-studded changeable letter around 1910. From there, it progressed to the introduction of backlit, “raised” opal glass letters from the late teens. Next is the beginning of the Neon Era in the late 1920s, with exposed tubing mounted on raised letters.

Cut-out, cast and other forms of metal letters – including porcelain enamel beginning in the 1930s – proliferated throughout the 1900s. Plastics became more widely available after World War II. Plastic, as well as metal, continues to be a major force in letter design and fabrication today.

dimensional letters

Early Painted Wood Signs 1900-1940

Kurfees Paint and DANGER

blue coal

Purina Chows

Dorsel’s Seal of Kentucky Flour

Buick Motor Cars & D.L. Cleeland

Showcards were a staple of commercial sign shops up until the advent of digital printing in the 1980s. They could be as simple as department store “Sale” signs or as refined as the theater posters of the 1920s – 1940s with portrait-like pictorials of starring actors and actresses.

Three Girls Lost

Old Vegas

The late 1960s version of the famous Big Boy icon has the tell-tale 3-D slingshot, red hair and striped pants of the early version. The modern Big Boy also sports checked pants vs. the early stripes, and brown or black hair instead of the more mischievous red. Today’s Big Boys are not as well-fed as the original.

Big Boy and Phillips 66

The double-faced porcelain enamel of Phillips 66 would have been mounted on a pole. The Dolly Madison Luncheonette signs is a mid-1930s art deco sign found in Irvington, NY. The ones shown is an economical non-illuminated version with slightly raised text.

Big Boy and Phillips 66

Goldleaf on glass was seen as the most revered technique among signpainter circles. Gilding was “high art” and commanded great respect, perhaps partly for the lure of gold itself.

These large glue-chipped and gilded mahogany-framed glass signs were originally created for a cigar store owned by the Breneiser family. The signs epitomize the height of fancy glass signs of the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

Chas. Breneiser, Breneiser

Pre-Neon or Lightbulb Era 1900-1930: The 1927 opal glass letter production sign for Bostonians Shoes was manufactured by Flexlume Sign Corp., Buffalo, NY.

Bostonians Shoes and Kelly Springfield Tires

Porcelain enamel: 1940s – 1960s

The iconic Goodyear winged foot logo is displayed in three different porcelain enamel color schemes, presumably showing the evolution of the logo from left-to-right.

Goodyear winged foot logo

Porcelain enamel color samples

Post-WWII Neon Era 1945-1960

Missoula Drug Co & Emmanuel Baptist Church

The early 1930s neon sign for Natural Bridge Shoes is noteworthy for its mitred corners and the black block-out glass incorporated into the “$5 ARCH SHOE $6” tubing.

Gasoline and Natural Bridge

Blume’s Apparel Shop

United Pentecostal Church

Emmanuel Baptist Church and Missoula Drug Co.

1950s-60s large-scale neon

Foster’s Freeze is of double-faced painted sheetmetal. The plastic ice cream “insert” in the cone is internally illuminated with a lightbulb. Cerveri Pharmacy is a double-faced neon sign showing remnants of its baked enamel finish. The 1950s sign identified a business in Reno, Nevada.

Foster’s Freeze and Cerveri Pharmacy

The early 1950s SkyVu Motel porcelain enamel neon sign originally identified a Kansas City area motel. It is a “transition sign” because it bridges the Neon and Plastic Eras evident in the plastic sun/moon and cloud formation, which are internally illuminated with neon.

Howard Johnson’s and SkyVu Motel

Howard Johnson’s

McDonald’s Hamburgers

Acapulco Mexican Food, Georgiton’s Pizza

The unrestored porcelain enamel icon Big Bear originally identified a Big Bear grocery store, headquartered in Columbus, Ohio.

Big Bear

Neon

Plastic: Post World War II – early 1970s

The mid-1950s internally illuminated Bus Depot sign originally identified a bus station in an unknown small town in Wisconsin.

An excellent example of a sign bridging the Neon and Plastic Eras by incorporating both types of illumination, the backlit plastic and exposed neon “Golfer,” identified a short nine-hole golf course at a former Rochester, NY amusement park. It was originally mounted on a pole and rotated.

Bus Depot and Golfer

The iconic Colonel Sanders Kentucky Fried Chicken sign was manufactured in the late 1950s.

Colonel Sanders Kentucky Fried Chicken

GULF, KONA LANES

Atlantic White Flash gas pumps

Popsicle

Army and Navy Store

BIG BOY Says

Approved Clean Rest Rooms

Sign-making tools of the trade included lettering enamels and paintbrushes, Speedball textbooks of lettering and poster design, wood graining compound, antique bronze & aluminum powders, varnishes, lettering colors, japan colors, reflective glass beads, glass buttons, etc.

Lettering enamels and paintbrushes

Speedball Cartooning Kit

Woodgraining materials & brushes

japan colors & permanent striping

antique bronze powders

Enameling supplies

workshop

*Saturday, March 2, 2019*

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“PHOTOGRAPHY” INVITATION: I invite you to create a photography intention and then create a blog post for a place you have visited. Alternately, you can post a thematic post about a place, photos of whatever you discovered that set your heart afire. You can also do a thematic post of something you have found throughout all your travels: churches, doors, people reading, people hiking, mountains, patterns, all black & white, whatever!

In my case, my intention was to look for thematic possibilities during my trip to Cincinnati and I found the delightful American signs at the American Sign Museum to be quite delightful and nostalgic.

You probably have your own ideas about this, but in case you’d like some ideas, you can visit my page: photography inspiration.

I challenge you to post no more than 20-25 photos (I have a lot more here!) and to write less than 1,500 words about any travel-related photography intention you set for yourself. Include the link in the comments below by Wednesday, August 7 at 1:00 p.m. EST. When I write my post in response to this challenge on Thursday, August 8, I’ll include your links in that post.

This will be an ongoing invitation, every first, second, and third (& 5th, if there is one) Thursday of each month. Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂

I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!

the ~ wander.essence ~ community

I invite you all to settle in and read a few posts from our wandering community. I promise, you’ll be inspired!

Jo, of RestlessJo, embarked on a stunning hike filled with lakes, gorgeous light, and hydrangeas in the Azores.
- Jo’s Monday Walk: Sete Cidades

Thanks to all of you who shared posts on the “photography” invitation. 🙂

{camino day 27} san nicolás del real camino to bercianos del real camino

wanderessence1025 July 28, 2019

I got a late start, at 7:35 a.m., because I was hesitant to leave the French tunes wafting through the atmospheric Albergue Laganares. I lingered over a café con leche and banana at the bar, while the curly-headed proprietor’s brunette wife, with her mischievous smile, playfully flirted with her husband.

I had to leave, however, as pilgrims are obliged to do. I was out of the town in no time, my hiking boots crunching on a gravel path alongside a road. The landscape offered little variety, although clusters of trees popped up periodically.

I left behind the province of Palencia and crossed into Provincia de León, part of the autonomous region of Castille y León with a population of 495,000. It is known to offer the most varied terrain on the Camino. I continued on the Tierra de Campos, with its flat and well-irrigated farmland.

I crossed the río Valderaduey to the 12th-century sanctuary Ermita Virgen del Puente, or Our Lady of the Bridge, a Mudéjar-style chapel with Romanesque foundations sitting in a shady poplar grove. The pilgrim hospice has long vanished.

San Nicolás del Real Camino to Rio Valderaduey (4.2 km)

Leaving San Nicolás del Real Camino

Crossing into Provincia de León

wheatfields in Provincia de León

Rio Valderaduey

Ermita Virgen del Puente

Ermita Virgen del Puente

The walk to Sahagún wasn’t bad. It was cool and the scenery was pleasant despite the walk being alongside a road.

Rio Valderaduey to Sahagún entrada (2.0 km)

Sahagún, with its population of 2,800, is a seat of ecclesiastical significance that prospered under the powerful order of Cluny, which at one time controlled as many as 300 monasteries and churches along the Way. Alfonso VI and his various wives are buried in the Benedictine convento de Santa Cruz.

In Sahagún, I walked off the beaten path to see the 13th-to-17th-century Iglesia de Trinidad, which is now a tourism office. The 17th-century Iglesia San Juan is a Baroque Church with a statue of the town’s patron saint, San Facundo.

Iglesia San Juan

I also admired the 12th-century Iglesia San Lorenzo (Saint Lawrence), a fine example of the brick Mudejar style with its great bell tower full of windows.

Iglesia San Lorenzo

Iglesia San Lorenzo

Confradía de Jesús: Nazareno y Patrocinio San José

Then I walked to Plaza Mayor for my second breakfast – potato tortilla and fresh orange juice – and I ran into Simon and Karen who were just getting up and going. They had been out late with Bud and Adele, and Kate from London, drinking lots of wine. They told me Kate was planning to take a rest day in Sahagún. I was surprised to hear they planned to walk 30km today despite their late start and their hung-over states.

Sahagún

Plaza Mayor in Sahagún

Plaza Mayor in Sahagún

They told me to go to Iglesia Señora la Peregrina to get my halfway Compostela! I thought I’d already passed the halfway mark yesterday in Terradillos de los Templarios, so I was confused.

After leaving them, I wandered uphill toward the church, stopping to admire the 12th-century Iglesia San Tirso (Saint Thyrsus), ruins in the Mudejar style. Adjoining were the ruins of Monasterio San Benito, one of the most powerful monasteries in Spain, which eventually led to its downfall. It originally dated from the 12th century. The Arco San Benito, now sitting alone on a trafficked avenue, was once the south entrance to the church of the monastery.

Iglesia San Tirso

ruins of Monasterio San Benito

ruins of Monasterio San Benito

Arc of San Benito

Sahagun (Centro Del Camino) & Arc of San Benito

I made my way uphill to the 15th-century Iglesia Señora la Peregrina, formerly a Franciscan convent. The office didn’t open until 10:30, so I had to wait a half hour. After giving the woman there my pilgrim credenciale, I wandered around the church and the museum, with its paintings of inspirational women and bullfighters. Then I picked up my halfway Compostela, which would probably get rumpled in my backpack.

Iglesia Señora la Peregrina

the halfway point of the Spanish Camino

museum at Iglesia Señora la Peregrina

inside Iglesia Señora la Peregrina

bullfighting paintings at the museum of Iglesia Señora la Peregrina

I left the church and headed to the historic five-arched stone bridge, Puente Canto, over the río Cea. It was originally Roman but was reconstructed in the 11th and 16th centuries.

Sahagún entrada to Puente Canto (1.6 km)

view of Sahagún from the Iglesia Señora La Peregrina

Puente Canto

The walk from Sahagún was a path along the road the entire way. Though some parts were hot, others were mercifully shaded. A field of sunflowers seemed more vibrant than others I’d seen. The path had a certain sameness to it: flat, alongside a barely-trafficked road, lined on one side by evenly spaced trees that gave little shade. This kind of path was easy enough but rather repetitive and boring. It was especially hard at the end of the day, when it was hot. I had a bad feeling the next day would be more of the same.

Many people say they hate the Meseta. I could say I both loved and was bored by it. Hate was certainly too strong a word. The worst were the roadside paths; the ones in the wild were much more enjoyable.

In a couple of days, I’d be done with the Meseta and back to climbing mountains. Who was to say which I’d like best when all was said and done.

Puento Canto to Opción (3.7 km) to Bercianos del Real Camino (6.0 km)

field of sunflowers

sunflower heaven

path from Sahagún to Bercianos del Real Camino

path from Sahagún to Bercianos del Real Camino

Bercianos del Real Camino

When I first walked into the town of Bercianos del Real Camino, with its population of 200, the small church at the entrance to the village was packed. The congregation was singing and the priest was dressed in street clothes.

Bar in Bercianos del Real Camino

The town of Bercianos del Real Camino was one of the worst, and least charming, I’ve stayed in. I walked around in circles looking for the poorly signposted albergue. Though the Albergue Santa Clara was nice, with a little courtyard with umbrellas and lots of plants, there wasn’t much offered in the way of food and the owners weren’t welcoming. There were a lot of Spanish locals there in the early afternoon, dressed in their Sunday best, talking and laughing in that way that Spanish families do.

courtyard at Albergue Santa Clara

In the courtyard, I spoke with a Danish couple who told me the halfway mark in Sahagún is for those Spanish pilgrims who started their Camino in Pamplona. That explained my confusion.

In the courtyard, a Korean woman was furiously doing a ton of laundry by hand while her husband sat at a table drinking a beer, smoking, and looking at his phone, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. She seemed to be washing her laundry and his laundry and some sheets and even sleeping bags. The water from the faucet was blasting into the washtub. The owner of the albergue yelled at her: “Agua! Agua!” – running too much water. It reminded me of my father yelling at me when I washed dishes as a kid; he’d get so angry if we left the water running the whole time. The Korean woman was very embarrassed and apologetic; sometimes Koreans seemed so meek!

I walked to Hostel Rivero for some small eggrolls and lemon beer.

After posting on Instagram, I sat at a table in the albergue courtyard and booked my accommodations ahead for the next day and for many future days. That took some time.

Later, I went back to Hostel Rivero and had a glass of red wine and a pilgrim meal of a lentil salad, meatballs with tomato, and French fries. I hardly talked to a soul all day except for the brief conversation with Simon and Karen and the Danish couple. Other than that, it was quite a boring day.

Lentil salad at Hostel Rivero

In the wee morning hour, around 4:45 a.m. the Korean husband of the laundry woman shook me violently and woke me up: “Snoring!!” he said angrily. The next thing I knew, he and his wife were gone I wondered why he bothered to wake me up if they were leaving anyway?

I wish I’d had the wherewithal to snap back at him when he woke me up: “At least I don’t sit there smoking a cigarette and looking at my phone while my spouse slaves away doing all my laundry!”

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*Day 27: Sunday, September 30, 2018*

*30,883 steps, or 13.09 miles: San Nicolas del Real Camino to Bercianos del Real Camino (18.5 km)*

You can find everything I’ve written so far on the Camino de Santiago here:

Camino de Santiago 2018

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On Sundays, I post about hikes or walks that I have taken in my travels; I may also post on other unrelated subjects. I will use these posts to participate in Jo’s Monday Walks or any other challenges that catch my fancy.

This post is in response to Jo’s Monday Walk: Sete Cidades. I know Jo is out of town for a while, but I figured I’d link anyway. 🙂

anticipation & preparation: vietnam in 2011

wanderessence1025 July 26, 2019

There was still a lot I didn’t know about Vietnam, but in the months before my trip, I tried to immerse myself in the culture from afar, reading novels, guidebooks, memoirs, historical books and watching movies.

Vietnamese Buddhist temple

My Korean friend Kim Dong Hee had seen the movies Indochine and The Scent of Green Papaya, so she was determined that I should see them as well. One night we went to the DVD bang in Daegu and watched the 1992 French film Indochine, with Catherine Deneuve and Vincent Perez. Set in 1930s French Indochina, it tells the tale of a love triangle between a rubber plantation owner, her adopted daughter and a younger French navy lieutenant. The rising Vietnamese nationalist movement is the backdrop of the movie. It was a great movie that gave me a feel for Vietnam under the French Protectorate.

I read a book by Uyen Nicole Duong called Daughters of the River Huong; it told of 4 generations of women in the same family, beginning with the story of the Mystique Concubine of the King at the time when the French were in charge in Vietnam; the love story continued through to the modern-day. This this book, I got a a feel for the beauty and the mystique of Vietnamese culture.

I also read Catfish and Mandala, a memoir by Andrew X. Pham, a Vietnamese-American guy who bicycled all around Vietnam to explore his heritage. He and his family escaped Vietnam after the fall of Saigon in 1975. This book tells a true story of Vietnam from a victim’s perspective, with no gloss or glimmer. The horrors visited upon families during the war are depicted here; when he returned to his home in 1989 for this trip, Vietnam was still a very poor country, rife with corruption and filth. It’s a memorable and sometimes disturbing personal story of war and a search for roots and identity. Some parts were difficult to read, but I’m glad I did, because I could really feel for Andrew’s struggles and the search for peace in his life.

When my son Alex came to visit in Korea in December of 2010, he brought two movies, The Scent of Green Papaya and Three Seasons. Kim Dong Hee, who had been dying to see The Scent of Green Papaya for months, went with me to dinner at Little Italy across the road from my apartment. We shared an entire bottle of wine and then took my DVD to 3 DVD bangs before we were able to find one that could play an American-made DVD. We settled in to watch it. It was really a mood piece, depicting the simple daily lives of a Vietnamese family and a servant girl. It had very little dialogue and even less action. After all the wine I drank, I’m sorry to say I fell asleep and missed parts of it! Kim said it looked to her like I slept through the whole thing, but I think she was mistaken because I remembered a lot. A lot of lush green leaves dripping with dew, green papayas, cooking, scrubbing of floors, and ants. Taken from Wikipedia, here’s a plot description:

A young girl, Mui, becomes a servant for a rich family. The family consists of a frequently absent husband, a wife and two young boys. When the husband leaves, he takes all the household’s money. As Mui grows up, the family falls on hard times, and eventually she becomes a servant for a pianist who befriends the family. That man is engaged to be married, but he prefers playing the piano to spending time with his fiance. One night, after blowing off his fiance yet again, the pianist sleeps with Mui. The engagement is broken off. The pianist starts teaching Mui how to read and write. A pregnant Mui reads to her unborn child.

I read another book by Duong Thu Huong called Paradise of the Blind, the first Vietnamese novel published in the United States in 1988. In 2010, it was banned in Vietnam because of the political views expressed. It told the story of a girl whose family was torn apart by the Communist takeover, including the land reforms and the so-called Rectification of Errors. The girl’s uncle was the primary culprit in the novel and was the personification of the evils of Communism. A powerful book, it infuriated me to read it.

Last but not least, on Christmas Day, my colleague Myrna lent me her computer, since mine crashed two days before Christmas, and I watched the 1999 movie, Three Seasons, a movie that takes place in Ho Chi Minh City, formerly Saigon, well after the war. It tells intertwining tales of different Vietnamese characters in a changing Saigon, including that of an American ex-soldier who comes in search of his lost daughter and a cyclo-driver who falls in love with a Vietnamese high-class call girl. The movie may be somewhat romanticized but I found it also depicted the dark underbelly of the city, especially in the story of a little boy, Woody, who lived on the streets. But the story was also a hopeful one, one that showed a Vietnam on the verge of a new life, caught up in modernization and globalization.

Scent of Green Papaya

Three Seasons

I would take along another book by Andrew X. Pham called The Eaves of Heaven, which I planned to read while I was traveling, in between writing, seeing the sights, floating on a junk in Halong Bay, and eating some great Vietnamese food!

Books set in Vietnam:

American Romantic by Ward Just (Indochina) ****
A Dangerous Friend by Ward Just (Indochina)
The Eaves of Heaven: A Life in Three Wars by Andrew X. Pham ****
Catfish and Mandala: A Two-Wheeled Voyage through the Landscape and Memory of Vietnam by Andrew X. Pham ****
Daughters of the River Huong by Uyen Nicole Duong ****
Paradise of the Blind by Dương Thu Hương ****
The Unwanted: A Memoir of Childhood by Kien Nguyen
The Lover by Marguerite Duras (Indochina)
The Lotus Eaters by Tatjana Soli
What It’s Like to Go to War by Karl Marlantes
The Things They Carried (stories) by Tim O’Brien
If I Die in a Combat Zone, Box Me Up and Ship Me Home by Tim O’Brien
Going After Cacciato by Tim O’Brien
The Man From Saigon by Marti Leimbach
The Quiet American by Graham Greene
Chickenhawk by Robert Mason (Thanks to Mari for the remaining suggestions)
Live from the Battlefield, autobiography of one of the greatest war correspondents, Peter Arnett
Nam by Mark Baker
In Pharoh’s Army by Tobias Wolff
Dispatches by Michael Herr (possibly Mari’s favourite)
All the Wrong Places by James Fenton
A Wavering Grace by Gavin Young
Derailed in Uncle Ho’s Victory Garden by Tim Page
A Bright Shining Lie by Neil Sheehan (history)
Winning Hearts and Minds, war poems by Vietnam Vets

Movies set in Vietnam:

The Deer Hunter (1978) ****
Apocalypse Now (1979) ****
Platoon (1986) ****
Good Morning, Vietnam (1987)
Full Metal Jacket (1987)
Hamburger Hill (1987)
Born on the Fourth of July (1989)
Casualties of War (1989)
Indochine (1992) *****
The Lover (1992)
The Scent of Green Papaya (1993) ***
Heaven and Earth (1993)
Forrest Gump (1994) *****
Cyclo (1995)
Three Seasons (1999) ****
The Vertical Ray of the Sun (2000) *****
The Quiet American (2002)
We Were Soldiers (2002)
The Fog of War (2003)
The Beautiful Country (2004)
The Buffalo Boy (2004)
Owl and the Sparrow (2007)
Tropic Thunder (2008)
21 and a Wake Up (2009)
The Sapphires (2012)
Noble (2014)
The Vietnam War (Ken Burns 10-episode TV series) (2017) *****

Hanoi

junks in Halong Bay

Finally, on Tuesday, January 11, 2011, I was sitting in Daegu, Korea and finalizing the details of my trip to Vietnam and Cambodia. I would leave the following Thursday, January 13; my plane would take off at 2:15 pm from Incheon and arrive in Hanoi at 11:15 the same evening, after a 5 hour layover in Guangzhou, China. As usual, I was stressed out, as I always was before I travel; thinking of all the details made my head spin. In addition to the regular stress, something happened to my back; I didn’t do a thing, just got out of my bed after a nap on Sunday, and voila, I couldn’t move! Why was it that I always got sick or got some physical pain right before I left for a vacation? So, in addition to being stressed because there was not enough time to get everything ready, I had to take the time to visit the hospital for physical therapy on my back!

Here was my itinerary for Vietnam:

January 13-14 & January 17-18, 2011: Hanoi Ngoc Mai Hotel: Address: : 07-17 Cua Dong str., Old Quarter, Hoan Kiem Dist, Hanoi, Vietnam

Tel: (84-4) 3923 1931/39231932 – 3828 6236/38282605

Hanoi Ngoc Mai Hotel

January 15-16: Indochina Junk on Halong Bay (The Dragon’s Pearl Junk): Indochina Junk

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“ANTICIPATION & PREPARATION” INVITATION: I invite you to write a post on your own blog about anticipation & preparation for a particular destination (not journeys in general). If you don’t have a blog, I invite you to write in the comments. Include the link in the comments below by Thursday, August 22 at 1:00 p.m. EST. When I write my post in response to this challenge on Friday, August 23, I’ll include your links in that post.

This will be an ongoing invitation, on the 4th Friday of each month. Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂 If you’d like to read more about the topic, see: journeys: anticipation & preparation.

I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!

call to place: vietnam in 2011

wanderessence1025 July 25, 2019

In January of 2011, I had been living and teaching English in South Korea for almost a year and had been trying to explore as much of Asia as I could. I felt the urge to travel during my winter break to Vietnam and Cambodia. In Vietnam, I’d throw myself into the craziness of Hanoi and sail on a placid junk through the mystical karsts of Halong Bay.

chaos in Hanoi

karsts in Halong Bay

karsts in Halong Bay

I was excited, as always, to travel to an exotic land. But, I also felt trepidation about this trip, mainly because of my lifetime exposure to the horrors of the Vietnam War and the extensive reading I’d been doing to prepare. I was a child of the Vietnam War-era, but I was in the generation too late, thank goodness, to actually go to war. I was too young to understand everything that was going on at the time, but I remember the horrifying images of the war brought into our living room nightly on T.V.: A Viet Cong suspect being shot point blank in the head, the terrified naked “Napalm girl,” a Buddhist monk setting himself on fire, and many others. The Vietnam War was the first U.S. military conflict to be televised. We had never before been able to watch, from the comfort of our homes, scenes of a faraway war unfold in moving pictures.

The world seemed a crazy and scary place in those years of my youth.

This June of 2019, I saw an exhibit, Artists Respond: American Art and the Vietnam War (1965-1975), at the Smithsonian American Art Museum (SAAM). The following photos by Martha Rosler from the series House Beautiful: Bringing the War Home, juxtapose the feminine realm of domestic life with the masculine business of waging war. The artist combined documentary and advertising images cut from popular magazines like Life and Ladies’ Home Journal to show figures from the war front, like soldiers or refugees, moving unexpectedly through affluent American homes. The photomontages aim to show how we are all interconnected, and they are reminders of how the war was brought into our U.S. homes, far from the violence our country was inflicting on Vietnam. The artist collapses the distance between “here” and “there,” essentially “bringing the war home.”

Red Stripe Kitchen by Martha Rosler

First Lady (Pat Nixon) by Martha Rosler

Beauty Rest by Martha Rosler

Cleaning the Drapes by Martha Rosler

From my home, I also watched news coverage of student protests on college campuses all over America and was infuriated by the Kent State massacre and by the way war protestors were vilified. My father was a die-hard Republican who hated war protestors, and I grew up having to listen to his tirades. I didn’t know at that time who was right, but since then, I have learned much about the Vietnam War and what a disaster it was for our country and for the Vietnamese people. And I have formed solid opinions about people’s rights to protest horrible things that governments do.

Here is a poem I wrote about a famous photograph (see photo here) taken in the aftermath of the Kent State shootings:

KENT STATE FREEZE FRAME

A young woman kneels, face jumbled,
mouth open, howling in disbelief.
In her daisy bellbottoms, she grabs
a faceless friend in a fringe jacket.
A white scarf hangs lopsided
around her neck like a noose.
The acrid smell of gunpowder
and blood blossoms in the air.

She belts out her death wail.
I traipse by and gape, as captured
by her screaming agony as by the dead
blue-jean boy lying face down
in blood and concrete.  He’s stretched out
straight as a battle line,
like my boyfriend
when he sleeps on the beach.

Someone tells me they also killed
two other boys and a girl.  Before
she was shot, she slipped a flower
into the barrel of a guardsman’s rifle
with a wistful smile –
“Flowers are better than bullets.”

Dazed and foggy, I’m on my way
to Biology lab, not even part of the protest.
I hate the whole Vietnam, Cambodia scene,
but my God, it’s on the other side of the world.
Frankly, I don’t want to get involved.
Now, here it is on my campus
and I want to kneel with that girl
and wail for my massacred fellow students
and all the boys blown apart in Vietnam,
and for fathers who think the way
mine does – that those damn hippies
deserve to die.

I wrote this poem in reaction to the photograph, as if I were a college student at Kent State. I was too young to be in college during the Kent State massacre, but I wasn’t too young to be furious over, and disgusted by, my father’s and others’ anti-protester rants.

One prominent protester of the war was Muhammad Ali. I remember my father’s diatribes about him too, because Ali objected to the draft and refused to fight in Vietnam. By taking a stand against the war, he put himself into the crossfire of public opinion. Earlier this year, I visited the Muhammad Ali Center in Louisville, Kentucky, where I learned of his opposition to the war.

Changing Opinion

Muhammad Ali’s words

more about the war

Muhammad Ali

In later years, in one of my writing classes, I read a great short story by Tim O’Brien, “The Things They Carried.” It told about the things American soldiers in the Vietnam war carried with them and the meanings behind these things; in essence, these items told the greater stories of the soldiers’ lives and the horrendous war they were part of.

In another part of the recent SAAM exhibit, I saw how American artists made statements about the immorality of the war. Dennis Oppenheim’s photograph, “Reading Position for Second Degree Burn,” shows two photographs of the artist lying on the beach for five hours with a volume of military field tactics on his bare chest. He was trying to register a sense of what many human bodies in 1970 had to endure: His weaponizing of the sun, in particular, conjured media reports of American soldiers baking in the Vietnamese heat and Vietnamese citizens being burned, far more gruesomely, by napalm weapons (from a plaque at the museum).

Reading Position for Second Degree Burn by Dennis Oppenheim

In the Non-War Memorial, artist Edward Kienholz, “imagined thousands of army uniforms – the same number as American soldiers killed in the war – filled with clay and placed in a chemically destroyed meadow in northern Idaho. Given that mechanical and chemical deforestation were deliberate U.S. military strategies in Vietnam, Kienholz’s unrealized plan to plow under and poison a pristine field sought to bring the war home to the American West” (from a plaque at the museum).

The Non-War Memorial

Also in the SAAM exhibit, Liliana Porter appropriated a photo taken by photojournalist John Schneider of a woman detained by U.S. and South Vietnamese forces on suspicion of Communist affiliation. Her words go from “northvietnamese” to “my mother, my sister, you, I,” to guide the viewer to empathy and identification.

Untitled by Liliana Porter

Finally, there were the refugees. In The Vietnamese Exodus History Learning Project: the exodus, the camps and the half-lived lives, artist Tiffany Chung commissioned a group of young artists from present-day Ho Chi Minh City to make watercolors based on photographs of the refugee crisis in the late 1970s and 1980s. These images were unknown to the artists painting them, having grown up in a country whose textbooks and public conversations do not acknowledge the crisis. Through this process, the artists began to recover parts of their own past.

In one scene of an immigrant camp, a little girl holds out an empty food bowl, her hopeful expression unfazed by the rain and the barbed wire surrounding her.

The Vietnamese Exodus History Learning Project

The scene below depicts Hong Kong in 1988, when refugees were no longer admitted; it shows a father clutching a small child as scores of people disembark from a crowded boat.

The Vietnamese Exodus History Learning Project

The Vietnamese Exodus History Learning Project

I had seen one movie about Vietnam that evoked a peaceful and slow-paced culture. The 2000 movie, Vertical Ray of the Sun, was about 3 sisters and their families and their loves. The movie is full of lush greenery, drenching rains, and romantic scenes. This movie has colored my imaginings of Vietnam since I saw it in 2001. Of course, when I was younger, I also saw violent and disturbing Vietnam war movies, such as the 1979 film Apocalypse Now, Platoon, Good Morning, Vietnam, Born on the Fourth of July and others.

Vertical Ray of the Sun DVD & Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried.

Here’s the trailer for Vertical Ray of the Sun.

Here’s a video of Vietnamese music I found on YouTube to inspire future visits.

Though I was only able to go to the north of Vietnam on this trip in 2011, I hope to return sometime to the south.

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“THE CALL TO PLACE” INVITATION: I invite you to write a post on your own blog about what enticed you to choose a particular destination. If you don’t have a blog, I invite you to write in the comments. If your destination is a place you love and keep returning to, feel free to write about that. If you want to see the original post about the subject, you can check it out here: imaginings: the call to place.

Include the link in the comments below by Wednesday, August 21 at 1:00 p.m. EST. My next “call to place” post is scheduled to post on Thursday, August 22.

If you’d like, you can use the hashtag #wanderessence.

This will be an ongoing invitation, on the fourth Thursday of each month. Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂

I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!

the ~ wander.essence ~ community

I invite you all to settle in and read a few posts from our wandering community. I promise, you’ll be inspired!

Ulli, of Suburban Tracks, wrote about why he’s called to one day visit the capital of Inuit Art in Cape Dorset, Arctic Canada.
- Inuit Art at Cape Dorset, Nunavut, Arctic Canada
Anabel, of The Glasgow Gallivanter, wrote about what called her to Islay: family lore, walking and whiskey.
- Islay: call to place

Thanks to all of you who wrote posts about “the call to place.” 🙂

louisville, kentucky: of bourbon, bridles and boxers

wanderessence1025 July 23, 2019

Louisville, Kentucky. The city’s nicknames reveal its many sides: Derby City, River City, Gateway to the South, Falls City, The ‘Ville. Founded by George Rogers Clark and named for Louis XVI, it was my least favorite of the cities I visited during my Midwestern Triangle Road Trip.

Maybe it was the gloomy and cold weather that put me off. Maybe it was the heavy cast iron structures on Whiskey Row. Maybe it was the dark brick, blackened windows and earth colors of the imposing buildings in West Main District. Maybe it was the lack of a mural arts program such as Cincinnati’s or Philadelphia’s, and a profusion of messy graffiti. Maybe it was my inability to find charm in any of the neighborhoods. On the day I visited, the steely skies seemed magnified by the colors and heaviness of the buildings, the general dereliction of the neighborhoods.

There were good things of course. Churchill Downs immersed me in the history and excitement of the Kentucky Derby. I enjoyed the Frazier History Museum, where I learned all about bourbon: the bottles, speakeasies, and whiskey’s artistic side; I learned about bourbon barrels, limestone, wood, farming, grains, crops, and water – all the things that converge in Kentucky to make the perfect bourbon possible.

“The Lewis & Clark Experience” taught me about the Corps of Discovery, the specially-established unit of the United States Army that formed the nucleus of the Lewis and Clark Expedition from May 1804 to September 1806, and what eventually became of them: their keelboat and supplies; York, the only black man in the party — slave and manservant to William Clark since they were young; the young Indian woman, Sacagawea, and her baby and husband, who shared a tent with Lewis and Clark for most of the journey, and whose skills and resilience saved the mission more than once.

I learned about Lieutenant Colonel George Armstrong Custer, a flamboyant figure who rose to fame during the Civil War but met his end at the Battle of Little Bighorn. I saw Teddy Roosevelt’s Big Stick and Custer’s pistols.

I admired watercolors of life along the Ohio River by Harlan Hubbard (1900-1988), who lived with his wife on a shantyboat, floating up and down the Ohio River for five years; he wrote the book, Shantyboat: A River Way of Life. On the 2nd floor, I saw a German miniatures collection, which soldiers used to plot war maneuvers.

On the first floor was an amazing exhibit of photographs of Americana related to travel — kitschy American places and signs, gas pumps, coke machines and coke bottles from the 50s and 60s. This was the stuff of my childhood, so I traveled back in time in the exhibit titled “Road Map to Heaven,” through photographs taken by Linda Bruckheimer. After my delightful discovery of remnants of Route 66 last year during my Four Corners Road Trip, I found inspiration in these photographs. I want to keep taking American road trips and finding evidence of time at a standstill.

I watched the 35-minute film of Kentucky Show! narrated by actress Ashley Judd, a native Kentuckian. I learned about the different landscapes in Kentucky, the economics of coal-mining and bourbon-making and horse breeding and racing. I heard the voices of famous Kentuckians, including writer Bobbie Ann Mason. I learned about the importance of the city’s location, basketball in the state, and politics. The film captured the essence of Kentucky.

Frazier History Museum

Bourbon display at the Frazier

The Lewis & Clark Experience

“Road Map to Heaven”

German miniatures

I couldn’t figure out what a 30-foot-tall gold statue of David was doing on Main Street. I walked past the Louisville Slugger Museum notable for the 120-foot-tall baseball bat leaning against it. Erected in July 1996, the hollow carbon steel bat weighs 34 tons and simulates the 34-inch long wooden bat used by Babe Ruth in the early 1920s. It is covered with the same kind of paint used on battleships. Since I have little interest in baseball, I didn’t bother to go in. But I did love that bat.

At Los Aztecas, I sat at the bar and ate lunch of a chili relleno and ground beef taco, with refried beans and pink lemonade. It was cozy and warm, and here I could see Louisville society in microcosm.

30-foot-tall gold statue of David

Louisville Slugger Museum & Factory

downtown Louisville

downtown Louisville

downtown Louisville

Los Aztecas

at the bar at Los Aztecas

chili relleno, taco with refried beans

At the Muhammad Ali Center, I watched a fascinating movie, “If You Can Dream,” narrated by James Earl Jones and Maya Angelou. Exhibits showed the famous boxer’s early boxing career during the Civil Rights Movement and the Vietnam War. I had forgotten that he was originally Cassius Clay but changed his name when he converted to Islam; he wanted to rid himself of that slave name. He also refused to go to Vietnam when he was drafted because he would not aid in white domination over dark-skinned people by killing.

In his early days, he had quite an ego, and plenty of gusto, confidence and bravado, but he was certainly a man who lived by his convictions. The museum, in a prominent spot looking over I-64 and the Ohio River, was well done, leaving me impressed with this man’s contribution to the world. Ali’s six core guiding principles were 1) confidence, 2) conviction, 3) dedication, 4) giving, 5) respect, and 6) spirituality.

This museum showed the best of Louisville. It took a hard look at racism and the immorality of the Vietnam War, as well as the struggles of the 1960s and onward. Our country to this day grapples with racist attitudes, police brutality, and the dehumanization of people of color. Muhammad Ali fought to bring these issues to the forefront. He was a boxer, yes, but he was more importantly an activist for African Americans at a time when they were beaten down at every turn.

I came face to face with a painted horse standing on a bourbon barrel, part of the 2015 Gallopalooza, an event held every five years that bridges artists and sponsors, and holds an auction that finds homes for these life size horse statues.

Muhammad Ali Center

Display at the Muhammad Ali Center

downtown Louisville

colorful horse on a bourbon barrel

I went on the Speakeasy Tour at the Evan Williams Bourbon Experience. I had to whisper a password to get into the “illegal and secret” establishment. I am not a big fan of bourbon, but since it’s one of Louisville’s claims to fame, I figured I’d partake. I downed my first glass and then found I was supposed to “chew” it, or swish it back and forth in my mouth so I got used to it. I never got used to it and failed to see the appeal.

Later, I dropped into KMAC, or the Kentucky Museum of Art and Craft, where there was an exhibit of Clay Bodies by Sarah Crowner, as well as fabulous paintings by young students.

Evan Williams Bourbon Experience

Kentucky Center for the Performing Arts

a gloomy downtown Louisville

a beaded stretch limo

street sculpture looking a little worse for wear

Louisville Slugger Museum & Factory

KMAC Exhibition

After leaving downtown, I drove around looking for certain neighborhoods that were in my guidebook, hoping to find an appealing restaurant for dinner. The neighborhoods seemed derelict, rough and uninviting. I was frustrated that there seemed to be no place where I could walk up and down a street and find a restaurant that invited me in. It was only when a restaurant randomly came up in my Instagram feed that I found Ditto’s in Bardstown. In that cute and cavernous restaurant, I had a crab cake on a salad of lettuce, cranberries, carrots, purple cabbage and broccoli, all accompanied by a mint julep. For dessert, I treated myself to a delicious chocolate brownie torte with a layer of marshmallow and raspberry sauce.

The friendliness of Louisville came out in that Ditto’s waitress, and I felt at last, as my day came to an end, that I was at home in Louisville.

street art in Louisville

fading ad in Louisville

Ditto’s in Louisville

mint julep at Ditto’s in Bardstown

I live in the suburbs of Washington, D.C., in northern Virginia, but I go periodically into the city for explorations. Washington is the nation’s capital and it has some beautiful neighborhoods. Wide avenues weave through the city between white or colorful buildings. Some of the best museums in the country (including the Smithsonian museums, which are free to the public), and multitudes of monuments, are on offer. Washington also has more money, filled as it is with expensive real estate owned by a plethora of politicians, lobbyists and lawyers, than a city such as Louisville. Of course, as in many American cities, it has its share of derelict and crime-ridden neighborhoods. Somehow there is plenty in D.C. that seems inviting, whereas I didn’t find this in Louisville.

Maybe, as an outsider, I simply wasn’t looking in the right places. And possibly, my opinion of it is colored by my politics. I know Kentucky is a red state that voted for Trump in 2016. They also keep that loathsome senator Mitch McConnell seated in Congress. Virginia, my home, is a blue state, and northern Virginia is actually quite liberal compared to the rest of the state, parts of which are very conservative. I prefer places that embrace diversity. But Washington itself can be awfully conservative, dowdy, and prim and proper to a degree I find annoying. Louisville didn’t seem to have pretensions, as D.C. does. Louisville does the down-to-earth thing much better than Washington. That I appreciated.

*Friday, March 1, 2019*

*Steps: 8,254, or 3.5 miles*

**********************

“PROSE” INVITATION: I invite you to write up to a post on your own blog about a recently visited particular destination (not journeys in general). Concentrate on any intention you set for your prose.

In this case my intention was to tell about something I didn’t like about my destination:

Describe what it is you don’t like and then compare how the culture is different from what you’re used to in your part of the country. Consider how the way something in another culture is done could be better than how it’s done in your own culture.

It doesn’t matter whether you write fiction or non-fiction for this invitation. You can either set your own writing intentions, or use one of the prompts I’ve listed on this page: writing prompts: prose. (This page is a work in process.) You can also include photos, of course.

Include the link in the comments below by Monday, August 12 at 1:00 p.m. EST. When I write my post in response to this invitation on Tuesday, August 13, I’ll include your links in that post.

This will be an ongoing invitation. Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂

I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!

{camino day 26} calzadilla de la cuenza to san nicolás del real camino

wanderessence1025 July 21, 2019

I had another stunning walk today of only 15.4km. The thing that makes me happiest when walking is a cool breeze, and I had just that from the moment I left at 6:50 a.m. until I arrived at tonight’s destination. Even after the sun rose, the pleasant breeze kept on giving.

As I shook off the dust of Calzadilla de la Cuenza from my feet in the dark, 30-year-old Anne-Charlotte from Lille, France appeared by my side and we shared our reasons for doing the Camino. I told her about my loved one and she told me of her boyfriend who has been suffering from trauma because he was accused of stealing at his last job, so he hadn’t been able to work since. She came from a family where everyone had a good job and they couldn’t understand why she was with him. She had been walking from Le Puy-en-Velay for two months and figured it was her Camino, not her family’s. It was a time for her to figure out her situation on her own without her family’s interference.

It was dark and we both had on headlamps so I barely saw her face. It was like that on the Camino – a person appeared beside you and you shared intimate details of your life and then you parted ways. In this case, after our lovely conversation, I had to take a nature break and she went on. These kinds of encounters happen so often on the Camino, pilgrims think of these appearances, or apparitions, as Camino angels. No advice was generally given; it was just simple sharing about life and our struggles. I was left to mull over thoughts that arose from the encounters. I’d had too many of these moments to count. It was one of many things that was magical about the Camino.

Calzadilla de la Cuenzato to Opción (1.0 km) to Ledigos (5.1 km)

Calzadilla de la Cueza to Ledigos

Camino arrow of rocks

Calzadilla de la Cueza to Ledigos

The other joy was that I took an optional path off the main Camino, without a soul in front or behind me, between Ledigos and Terradillos de los Templarios. It was lovely rolling farmland dotted with rectangular and cylindrical hay bales. A stunning sky hovered overhead. A special gift. The Camino gave and kept on giving.

Since I took the optional path, I skirted the town of Terradillos de los Templarios, supposedly the halfway point of the Camino. According to the Brierley guidebook, this town “approximates to the halfway point between St. Jean Pied de Port and Santiago de Compostela.” I couldn’t believe I’d made it this far!

Optional path from Ledigos (2.8 km vs. 3.4 km) to Terradillos de los Templarios

dovecote at the optional path from Ledigos to Terradillos de los Templarios

Optional path: Ledigos to Terradillos de los Templarios

Optional path: Ledigos to Terradillos de los Templarios

Optional path: Ledigos to Terradillos de los Templarios

Optional path: approaching Terradillos de los Templarios

Optional path: approaching Terradillos de los Templarios

In the following town, Moratinos, I stopped for my second breakfast of “artisan cheese on bread drizzled with olive oil.” In the town was a big mound of dirt with doorways; these were bodegas, used for food storage and wine-making. A fellow pilgrim, John, pointed out a TV antenna coming out of the mound, indicating someone must have been living there.

A sign at Las Bodegas de Moratinos informed us that “No, the hobbits don’t live here!”

These little caves are “bodegas,” used in the past for food storage and wine-making. Moratinos is one of several hillside bodega groups visible along the Camino de Santiago trail, part of a wine culture that dates back 2,000 years to the Romans.

The fields around you once were covered in vines, and the caves were full of wine presses, barrels, massive clay vessels, and bottling vats. Each family made wine enough each year to meet their own needs for the months ahead.

Only two or three Moratinos families still make their own wine, but the caves their ancestors dug into this hillside are used occasionally to store cheese, hams, and vegetables. Other bodegas were abandoned when their owners moved away to work in the city.

No one can say how old these bodegas are, but the stories told about them, and equipment still stored inside, say some may be at least 500 years old. Legend says they were dug in wintertime, a pastime for children who could keep warm and occupied scooping out the soft clay. Once exposed to air, the earth hardened to a stony finish, strong enough to support the waste earth that was raised in buckets through the chimney ventilation-shaft and dumped out to form the roof of the present “Castillo.”

Nowadays bodegas are used for party rooms and storage cellars.

Terradillos de los Templarios to Moratinos (3.2 km)

Terradillos de los Templarios to Moratinos

Hostel Moratinos

Las Bodegas de Moratinos

door in Las Bodegas de Moratinos

After leaving the bodegas, we came to the parish church dedicated to St. Thomas. The surrounding trees were wearing festive colorful sleeves. Soon, we were leaving the town of Moratinos.

Moratinos with parish church dedicated to St. Thomas

dog at rest in Moratinos

festive trees in Moratinos

After that, it was only a short distance to San Nicolás del Real Camino. Before town, I saw the sign: “I know that I know nothing… but the 2nd bar is “cool”!! Socrates. This refers to a problem faced by bar owners who are not located at the entrance to Camino towns. Usually, pilgrims have been walking quite a distance, and by the time they reach a town, they stop at the first bar in town. In many towns, if they don’t stop at the first bar, there is no other bar, so they’re out of luck. I know whenever I reached a town, I was ready to stop immediately at the first bar.

Moratinos (3.2 km) to San Nicolás del Real Camino (2.8 km)

Moratinos to San Nicolás del Real Camino

“I know that I know nothing… but the 2nd bar is “cool”!! Socrates

approaching San Nicolás del Real Camino

As I walked into San Nicolás del Real Camino, I saw Simon, Karen, and Tasmanians Bud and Adele, having snacks and a beer at the first bar in town, Casa Barrunta. I had reserved a bed at the second bar (the one referred to in the above sign), so I told them I’d go check in and then return to see if they were still there.

I checked in at Albergueria Laganares, a most charming place. When I walked in, romantic French music was softly playing. The owners were very friendly and welcoming.

Albergueria Laganares

After a shower and laundry, I returned to have a limon y cerveza at the first bar in town with Simon, Karen, Bud and Adele. We talked of the simplicity of the Camino and how we want to downsize when we return home. Karen said she looked forward to a shopping spree for new clothes. I agreed heartily with her as I was so sick of wearing the same clothes day after day. Karen was always so stylish and cute. Simon was super friendly and Bud and Adele were incredibly laid back.

Restaurante Casa Barrunta

Karen, me, Bud, Adele and Simon

The town was smaller than Calzadilla de la Cuenza but exuded so much more charm.

My friends all moved on, heading for the night to Sahagún, another 6.2 km along; it was a major stopping point along this stage of the Camino.

I returned to Albergueria Laganares. Out back was a small green courtyard, brightened by abundant flower pots and window boxes, where pilgrims could do laundry. Not many people seemed to be staying here, probably because of Sahagún ahead.

Albergueria Laganares

There were only 20 beds at the albergue. Spanish and French music wafted through, creating a mellow and pleasant ambiance. I felt a bit angst-ridden for the husband-and-wife owners, as theirs was the second bar in town; it was awfully quiet all afternoon. They had fixed up the place so delightfully.

Out front was a shaded seating area in a square beside the parish church, Iglesia de San Nicolás Obispo. Sitting outside in the afternoon, I had crudites and hummus, accompanied by a glass of wine. I enjoyed watching the pilgrims walking past. There was another guy sitting out there; he didn’t say a word so I assumed he must be non-English speaking. However, it turned out he was Phil from Britain. He was not very talkative or friendly, and when I’d see him numerous times in the days ahead, he would continue to remain aloof.

wine, crudites and hummus

Iglesia de San Nicolás Obispo

the town of San Nicolás del Real Camino

the town of San Nicolás del Real Camino

Iglesia de San Nicolás Obispo

Iglesia de San Nicolás Obispo

In the late afternoon, I had a WhatsApp call with Mike. My sons were getting ready to sign a lease and move into a new apartment. I hoped it would work out for them to live together, although I had my doubts.

We had a lovely pilgrim meal in the albergue: lentil soup, albondigas with French fries, and pudding. I met Pierre from France, Marius and Simona from Lithuania, Irene, Chen and another person from Taiwan, Augusto from Spain, Phil from Britain, and 19-year-old Moritz from Germany who had been walking 40-45 km/day for over two months from Germany.

Simona told how she stayed in an albergue whose owner had done the Camino many times. This woman believed the Camino was a death walk: you shed who you were to make way for becoming someone new.

front: Pierre; L to R: Marius, Simona, Irene, Chen, unknown, Moritz, Augusto, me and Phil

Albondigas and French fries

In the albergue, only a young Korean girl shared the 10-bed room with me. She never said a word. She also sat alone upstairs on her phone while everyone else was at the pilgrim meal.

It was strange that I passed the halfway point in my Camino today. I got my last sello in my credenciale. Now I would have to use a new one for the second half of my journey.

**********

*Day 26: Saturday, September 29, 2018*

*24,542 steps, or 10.4 miles: Calzadilla de la Cueza to San Nicolás del Real Camino (15.4 km)*

You can find everything I’ve written so far on the Camino de Santiago here:

Camino de Santiago 2018

**************

This post is in response to Jo’s Monday Walk: Porto Pim.

portuguese ceilings

wanderessence1025 July 18, 2019

I found the ceilings throughout Portugal to be quite elaborate and beautiful, so I thought I’d assemble some photos of them from my trips in 2013 and 2018.

“Ceilings must always be considered. They are the most neglected surface in a room.” ~ Albert Hadley

main chapel of the Cathedral of Evora 2013

Chapter House of the Capela dos Ossos, Evora 2013

Igreja da Conceicao Velha in Lisbon 2013

ceiling in Blazons Hall at Palácio Nacional de Sintra 2013

ceiling in Blazons Hall at Palácio Nacional de Sintra 2013

Blazons Hall at Palácio Nacional de Sintra 2013

the Palatine Chapel at Palácio Nacional de Sintra 2013

Galleon Room at Palácio Nacional de Sintra

The Palace of Monserrate in Sintra had some gorgeous ceilings and intricately carved arches.

Palace of Monserrate, Sintra 2013

ceiling at Palácio Nacional da Pena 2013

ceiling at Palácio Nacional da Pena 2013

Basilica dos Martires in Lisbon 2013

Basilica dos Martires in Lisbon 2018

The Sé of Braga showcased some fine painted ceilings.

Sé de Braga 2018

“Fear sees a ceiling. Hope sees the stars…” ~ Colton Dixon

Paço dos Duques de Bragança in Guimarães 2018

Torredos Clérigos in Porto 2018

Igreja de São Francisco 2018

Sé de Porto 2018

Sé de Porto 2018

Livraria Lello in Porto 2018

Igreja do Carmo in Porto 2018

church in Óbidos 2018

Palácio Nacional da Pena 2018

Igreja & Museu São Roque, Lisbon, 2018

“Not every wall needs a ceiling” ~ Munia Khan

Convento do Carmo in Lisbon 2013

*********************

In my case, my intention was to look for thematic possibilities during my trip to Portugal and I found the country’s ceilings quite elaborate and unique.

You probably have your own ideas about this, but in case you’d like some ideas, you can visit my page: photography inspiration.

I challenge you to post no more than 20-25 photos and to write less than 1,500 words about any travel-related photography intention you set for yourself. Include the link in the comments below by Wednesday, July 31 at 1:00 p.m. EST. When I write my post in response to this challenge on Thursday, August 1, I’ll include your links in that post.

This will be an ongoing invitation, every first, second, and third (& 5th, if there is one) Thursday of each month (I’ve now added the second Thursday). Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂

I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!

on journey: seeking optimism from illinois to louisville, kentucky

wanderessence1025 July 17, 2019

I tried to be optimistic as I left my sister’s house in southern Illinois to drive to Louisville, Kentucky, but the dreary, frigid and damp weather — 28°F with icy rain — didn’t help my outlook. My moods tend to vary drastically depending on the weather, and it didn’t help that at the last minute my sister backed out because of a problem with her dog Babe, who she planned to bring along. Steph isn’t much of a traveler anyway, so I guessed it was for the best.

After saying my goodbyes at 9:10, I drove through DeSoto in freezing rain, and the car was soon caked in ice. Loreena McKennitt sang “Beneath a Phrygian Sky,” which dangled elusive dreams of The English Patient and Turkey all rolled into one. The song put me in an optimistic state of mind until the brown eddies of the Little Muddy River quickly pulled me back into the gloomy winter landscape.

I passed silver silos and red chicken coops dotting miles of farmland. I assumed the large silver cylinders with cone tops were silos, although I didn’t know if that’s what they were properly called. A silo is a structure used in agriculture to store grains or fermented feed known as silage. I didn’t know if the things I saw were silos or grain elevators. My farm lingo was challenged, to say the least.

In the town of Hurst, population 800, I wondered what treasures hid in Dave’s Man Cave. In the town of Bush, population 300, a sorry-looking area surrounded T&T Recycling. Just past Royalton and Ziegler were two flags: a U.S. flag and another that said TRUMP 2020. Ugh. I passed Plumfield Christian Church and Kreative Kitchens & Baths as my wipers pounded against a frame of ice accumulating around the windshield’s edges.

I headed north on Rt. 57 and it was 29° and still raining ice as I passed Rend Lake. Before long, I was on I-64 heading east. My gas tank was getting low so I stopped at a Citgo, but all the pumps were closed. The proprietor of the Citgo informed me I’d have to drive 35 miles to the next station on I-64. The other option was to drive six miles each way off course to Wayne City, which I did. I figured I could make it six miles but didn’t know if my tank could carry me 35 miles.

I pushed the inside lever to open the gas tank but it was frozen over with a solid sheet of ice. I attacked the ice encasing the gas cover with my sturdy ice scraper. Then I went to work breaking up the ice buildup on the windshield. I felt like some kind of crazed maniac as I stabbed at the ice.

Finally, I was back on the interstate, a flat stretch of highway over soggy and boggy land, flat and every shade of brown. I was lucky it wasn’t snowing and that the highway wasn’t icing over. I passed Burnt Prairie and AntQ Mall Antiques, the Little Wabash River and Mt. Carmel. Just before noon, I got a Welcome to Indiana: Crossroads of America.

In Indiana, I crossed the Big Bayou River, then drove past New Harmony and Mt. Vernon. Industrial sized water sprinklers hovered over the land and silos hunched, sodden, in the fields. Past Stateline Fireworks and the Black River, I stopped at a rest area to assail the ice that had built up again on the windshield. Then it was on past Poseyville, Cynthiana and Evansville. A Monastery offered prayers and a gift shop, and I supposed I should have stopped for a dose of optimism.

I called the Frazier Museum in Louisville to see what times the Kentucky Show! was playing. I figured I’d have to visit there tomorrow as I’d have a hard time making the last show at 3:00. I continued past Jasper, Birdseye, and Winzerwald Winery. I crossed into Eastern Standard Time, which put me at 2:15. I passed Marengo, Leavenworth, Indiana Caverns and Squire Boone Caverns, Palmyra and Corydon.

It was 3:07 by the time I passed the Kentucky state line: Welcome to Kentucky: United We Stand, Divided We Fall. Despite the continual testing of my threadbare optimism, I made it to Louisville and got to the Kentucky Derby Museum by 3:20.

Barbaro sculpture at Churchill Downs

At the Museum, I joined a tour of the outdoor racetrack at Churchill Downs. It was a miserable hour in the freezing rain, but I learned a thing or two: that the Kentucky Derby has been run every year since 1875; that it is run on the first Saturday in May; the whole event goes from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m., in which time there are 14 horse races, the Derby being the 12th. Only three-year-old Thoroughbreds can run in the race, a distance of one and a quarter miles (2.0 km). After horses win, money multiplies as they breed and sire colts, anywhere between $175,000 – $500,000 for each shot, with a colt guaranteed. If an offspring becomes a champion, the sire’s fees can be raised.

a horse on display at the Kentucky Derby Museum

Churchill Downs

Churchill Downs

Churchill Downs

Churchill Downs

The Derby is the first leg of the American Triple Crown and is followed by the Preakness Stakes, then the Belmont Stakes. Anywhere from 16-20 horses can participate. All horses must carry 126 lb. (fillies carry 121 lb.). They must be weighed before and after the race. In the past some jockeys carried lead to get up to the required weight and then tossed it during the race.

the starting gate for the horses

Churchill Downs has 60,000 seats but no one is turned away. Usually around 170,000 wander around the stands, mostly in the infield. In the underground tunnel, up to $23 million – all cash – is wagered. Add concessions and lots of money is circulating.

the underground tunnel where wagers are made

I admired a rose-draped statue of Justify, winner of the 2018 Derby. The Derby is often called “The Run for the Roses” because of the blanket of roses draped over the winner. Because it was raining on that May day in 2018, the track was sloppy and difficult.

Justify decked out in roses

Back in the warmth of the Museum, I found an exhibit on jockey Bill Shoemaker, one of the biggest stars of Thoroughbred racing. He won his first race in 1949, his first Kentucky Derby in 1955, and rode his final race in 1990. He retired as the most winning jockey of all time (a record since broken by two others) and became a trainer. Despite suffering a life changing accident in 1991, in which he lost control of his car and went over an embankment, severing his spinal cord, he continued to train horses and be part of the industry he loved. He passed away in 2003.

jockey Bill Shoemaker

A poster featured the Louisville Jockey Club, which oversees breeding and racing of Thoroughbred race horses. Each winner of the Derby has a plaque bearing its name at Churchill Downs. The Racing Form is a tabloid newspaper founded in 1894 in Chicago, Illinois; it publishes the past performances of race horses as a statistical service for horse-racing bettors in North America.

Louisville Jockey Club

plaques to Derby winners including Secretariat

display in the museum

Racing form

Another exhibit featured outrageous hats worn on Derby Day.

Derby hats

Derby hats & outfits

Derby hats

My favorite thing about the museum was watching the 360° film about Derby Day, which enthralled me so much, I decided I must attend the spectacle one of these days.

energetic film about Derby Day

The Kentucky Derby reflects the unbridled optimism of horse owners and the public, a sort of encapsulation of the American Dream. Millions are spent on breeding and training horses for what many consider “the most exciting two minutes in sports.” If that isn’t an example of both the folly and power of optimism, I don’t know what is.

*Thursday, February 28, 2019*

*Steps: 6,148, or 2.61 miles*

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“ON JOURNEY” INVITATION: I invite you to write a post on your own blog about the journey itself for a recently visited specific destination. You could write about the journey you hope to take in the year ahead. If you don’t have a blog, I invite you to write in the comments.

One of my intentions was to write about the theme of “Optimism – Power or folly.”

Include the link in the comments below by Tuesday, August 20 at 1:00 p.m. EST. When I write my post in response to this challenge on Wednesday, August 21, I’ll include your links in that post.

This will be an ongoing invitation, once on the third Wednesday of each month. Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂

I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!

the ~ wander.essence ~ community

I invite you all to settle in and read a few posts from our wandering community. I promise, you’ll be inspired. 🙂

Meg, of Visiting Warsaw: 2018 & 2019, wrote about her latest zombie-like journey from her home in New South Wales to Warsaw.
- Flight

Many thanks to all of you who wrote posts about the journey. I’m inspired by all of you! 🙂

{camino day 25} carrión de los condes to calzadilla de la cueza

wanderessence1025 July 14, 2019

I started out at 7 a.m. because it was forecast to get to 87°F today. As I left town, a crow cawed loudly from a telephone wire, jolting me into the realm of the living. Today, I began to understand deeply the challenges of the Meseta. It was flat, flat, flat. It seemed endless and the hours were long.

The temperatures were nice enough in the morning but by 11:00, the sun was in full force. By that time, there was no shade to be found. There were no towns between Carrión de los Condes and Calzadilla de la Cueza, only a small mobile cafe offering a welcome break. There were also two shady picnic areas where I could sit for a spell to rest.

I passed the San Zoilo Real Monasterio, dating from the mid-11th century but now a luxury hotel, on the way out of town in the dark. Nearby was a pilgrim statue glowing as if wrapped in a halo.

Carrión de los Condes to San Zoilo (1.0 km)

pilgrim statue near San Zoilo

Walking along the quiet country road wasn’t bad because it was still early morning and cool. Then we joined a stretch of the original Roman road still intact after 2,000 years of use. This is known as the Cañada Real Leonesa, and, at the same time, the original Way. The Romans once walked over this same path, as this was, originally, part of the road they called Via Aquitania, which ran between Astorga and Bordeaux.

The stony covering on the road made the walk uncomfortable, with pebbles rolling out underfoot and causing ankles to twist repeatedly. The landscape was flat, monotonous and even hypnotic, with few visual references. The road passed through a kind of wetland. Apparently the substrata of the old Roman road required an estimated 100,000 tons of rock transported from elsewhere just to raise the surface above the winter flood levels.

San Zoilo to Calzada Romana / Via Aquitana / Cañada Real Leonesa (4.7 km)

wetland outside of Carrión de los Condes

Carrión de los Condes to Calzada Romana

Calzada Romana

The Oasis Café was a small mobile cafe offering cafe con leche, fresh orange juice, and chorizo sandwiches. It was a very welcome break.

At the rest area, I met up with Kate from London, who I’d met the previous evening, and told her my whole story, basically: my mother, my loved one, my leaving my husband for seven years, my loved one’s flat earth beliefs, etc. Kate had lost several people dear to her recently, and then several others had diseases they had been expected to die from, but they survived. She was doing a walk of joy, a thanksgiving of sorts.

At the Oasis Café, I also met a Canadian guy from Ottowa who had been living in the mountains in Mexico. He said from things he’d read, it seemed the U.S. was in the middle of a political civil war. I agreed completely.

Calzada Romana to Area de Descanso (rest area) (4.4 km)

Café Oasis

Café Oasis

After the rest area, we walked a long way on a flat, hot and boring path, then crossed several small arroyos, or small streams, before descending into Calzadilla de la Cueza.

Area de Descanso to Calzadilla de la Cueza (7.2 km)

Café Oasis to Calzadilla de la Cueza

Café Oasis to Calzadilla de la Cueza

approaching Calzadilla de la Cueza

I checked into the Albergue Camino Real, right at the entrance to the town of Calzadilla de la Cueza. It was 5€ and not very nice. I certainly got what I paid for. However, the adjoining Bar el Camino wasn’t bad, with its lively owner. I joined Kate, who I’d met last evening and walked with earlier today, and Sheryl from Seattle, who I met for the first time, for lasagna and a huge beer. Sheryl was walking the Camino for her niece who was 30, addicted to meth, and in prison. We had a long conversation about their respective IT jobs and the challenges of family.

A good deal of the conversation was spent dissecting Sheryl’s experience with Sharon, who Sheryl was walking with. Kate had also met Sharon and thought she would be hard to take. I wouldn’t meet Sharon until later in the Camino.

Sharon had done the Camino 4-5 times before, and had arranged Sheryl’s trip for her, booking shared rooms in hotels; they often transported their bags ahead. Sheryl knew Sharon’s husband John when they both worked on ski patrol in the mountains of Washington State. Sharon had plans to meet up with her husband John sometime in the next few days, and then the three of them would travel together for the remainder of the Camino. It was odd situation and a bit stressful for Sheryl, as she was closer friends with John and didn’t know Sharon very well. Also, Sharon was apparently a driven type-A person.

I would turn out I would run into Sheryl off and on for most of the rest of my Camino. I talked often to her, but we didn’t seem to connect at a level that would lead to any lasting friendship.

Lunch with Sheryl and Kate at my albergue

In the evening, I wandered around the town. There wasn’t much to see and it was quite deserted.

Not all towns on the Camino are created equal. Many of the towns have declining and ageing populations and oftentimes it seems that business from the Camino is the only thing keeping them alive. This town was such a town; with its population of 60, there wasn’t much life here. After the lively town of Carrión de los Condes, it was a bit of a drag.

Calzadilla de la Cueza

After my walkabout, I went by Kate’s hotel, but there was no sign of her, so I ate alone at Bar el Camino. I had a salad for dinner with white asparagus. The asparagus was good, but the salad also had broccoli, cauliflower, green beans and mushrooms that seemed to be either from a can or frozen and cooked. They were most certainly not fresh. I also enjoyed a glass of red wine.

Albergue Camino Real

Albergue Camino Real was one of my most disliked albergues on the Camino, with 40 beds packed into a tight space. Space, facilities, beds – none were great, but it was a place for pilgrims to lay their heads after a long walk on the Meseta. The only saving grace was a nice green courtyard area with a swimming pool; in the early afternoon, I had dipped my feet in the pool, which was icy cold.

Albergue Camino Real

In the evening, I sat in the green courtyard by the pool to watch the sunset, which was lovely. It was the only redeeming feature of the albergue.

sunset over the pool at Albergue Camino Real

I didn’t talk to a soul in the albergue as I didn’t know anyone and no one seemed particularly friendly. I went to sleep early. The bed covers were horrible and I could feel the springs in the bed. I couldn’t wait to get out of there in the morning.

I had reason to believe I would be in an even smaller town the following day.

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*Day 25: Friday, September 28, 2018*

*28,328 steps, or 12.0 miles: Carrión de los Condes to Calzadilla de la Cueza (16.8 km)*

You can find everything I’ve written so far on the Camino de Santiago here:

Camino de Santiago 2018

**************

This post is in response to Jo’s Monday Walk: Cosmopolitan Horta.

portuguese laundry

wanderessence1025 July 11, 2019

One thing I find so charming about Portugal is the laundry hung on balconies and clotheslines. Because Portuguese buildings are often colorful yet decrepit, the background and the laundry together make for picturesque scenes.

Evora 2013

Lisbon 2013

Lisbon 2013

Lisbon 2013

Lisbon 2013

Porto 2018

Porto 2018

Porto 2018

Lisbon 2018

Lisbon 2018

Lisbon 2018

Lisbon 2018

Lisbon 2018

Lisbon 2018

Lisbon 2018

Lisbon 2018

*********************

You probably have your own ideas about this, but in case you’d like some ideas, you can visit my page: photography inspiration.

I challenge you to post no more than 20-25 photos and to write less than 1,500 words about any travel-related photography intention you set for yourself. Include the link in the comments below by Wednesday, July 17 at 1:00 p.m. EST. When I write my post in response to this challenge on Thursday, July 18, I’ll include your links in that post.

This will be an ongoing invitation, every first, second, and third (& 5th, if there is one) Thursday of each month (I’ve now added the second Thursday). Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂

I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!

the ~ wander.essence ~ community

I invite you all to settle in and read a few posts from our wandering community. I promise, you’ll be inspired!

Jo, of RestlessJo, climbed up a hill for a view over Velas, in the Azores, and captured some mystical views.
- A Scoot Up a Hill!

Thanks to all of you who shared posts on the “photography” invitation. 🙂

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