Lockdown in Spain- Day 2

This is not a local scene.  It's not a pretty picture as previously mentioned I intended to post. It wasn't even taken during this century.  This image of "Tokyo Beggar" is, to me, the best and most meaningful photo I've ever taken. To this day I still regret taking it.

It was shot with my first 35mm camera, an Aires rangefinder with one of those glass-bubble light meters stuck on the front and a fixed "normal" lens.  I used Kodak Tri-X, and it was most likely the first roll of film loaded, as I had just bought the camera that morning. 

My father had suggested that I use black and white to judge how well I did before trying more expensive color film.  I must have thought I'd done okay as there resulted many colored photos of cherry trees in full bloom, the Buddha at Kamakura and the imperial palace in its impressive park.
Manuel, Camilla, Nick and I were on a round-the-world trip subsequent to Nick's high school graduation.  This trip was my introduction to photography in general and "street" photography in particular.

Robert Capa, David Duncan Douglas, Ernest Hemingway and Ernie Pyle have long been my career heroes, though I never followed them for one reason or the other.  I did change my major to Journalism from Tropical Agriculture and seriously considered re-enlisting in the Army for the MOS
(Military Occupation Specialty) of Combat Photographer.  The responsibility of being a newly-wed and not wanting my bride to be "dependent" as enlisted men's families were called led me to other paths.  '68 was not a good year to be in the Army, anyway.

As I walked down that Tokyo street in 1961 I saw the man and his dog and knew that I wanted the image.  I walked close to the store window in front of him and stopped, pretending to look at merchandise, meanwhile setting the camera to what I hoped would be the proper exposure.  I watched his reflection in the window, waiting for a moment when he was looking away and would not see me take the shot.  He looked to one side and I turned, camera to my eye, and found him looking at me.  I'll never forget the look in his eyes; shame, sorrow, embarrassment.  I'll never be sure.  I tripped the shutter when he bowed to hide his face.

I wish I had never been seen, that I had placed some money in his bowl, that I could have spoken an apology and that he has forgiven me.  That moment has haunted me since.

Lockdown in Spain-Day 1

On Friday, the day before the lockdown order was announced, I walked up the hill in town to try and get some sunset shots of Callosa de Segura, the mountain with the most character in our immediate area of the Vega Baja.

Now, for the next two weeks, I won't be able to see it or go for a walk unless I go out to buy groceries or seek medical care.  That may be a ticket to a paseo, as a couple of hours before I took those photos, I'd had a bike crash and acquired a good case of road rash.  Doctored myself, but if I develop an infection, I'd get a chance to walk to the health center.  There's a silver lining to every cloud.

As far as today goes, I got a couple of long-put-off chores done.  The first was to put a bandaid on one of the heating pipes whose leak I discovered a couple of weeks ago.  The repairman said he would try to make it down "next week", but that was before lockdown.  So I jury-rigged a method of keeping water off the floor and measuring the flow so I could know when to replace the loss.

                                                                              

 

To compensate for the elimination of cycling and walking, I decided to start pumping iron again, so I set up the weight bench which has been unused for about eighteen months.  I also decided to climb the stairs in multiples, so instead of one flight, I go back down and do two more.  Every journey starts with the first step.  More tomorrow...

It's only been about five years...

Yeah, the last post was during the summer of '15, and a whole lot has happened since then.  If you've been in touch on Facebook, email, What'sApp or live near Algorfa, you don't need an update.  If you haven't been in touch, then never mind, you probably won't be interested.  I've resurrected the Ramble to keep folks apprised of life in small-town Spain as we try to weather the  Covid-19 pandemic.  Cousin Shelly has a very interesting blog and is providing a view on developments in Italy.  You ought to check out: http://abroadabroadnews.blogspot.com/.

As for us on the Costa Blanca and the rest of Spain, we're in "partial" lockdown.  This means we are supposed to stay sequestered in our homes except for travel to buy food or essentials.  That must include beer and wine!  Those who cannot work from home are allowed to go to work.  That eliminates cycling, walking and wandering around with a camera; local travel.  Medium and long distance trains are restricted and airlines don't have anywhere to go-if they are flying.  It is beginning to look as though my May 30 trip to the US is not likely to happen.  I wasn't looking forward to a colonoscopy, anyway.

Here's a shot of a priest in Orihuela feeding pigeons an extra ration because the bars are closed and they can't get their normal food. 

May and June '15

Can't remember back before the end of May.  Not that it matters, because most of you who were regulars have probably given up looking for a new edition.  Anyway, Is and I went to the feria at Cordoba.  It is another of the great cities to which we will return for a less hectic visit.  That reminds me that we celebrated our fourth anniversary in Lorca, another fine city.

Right after returning from Cordoba, I jumped on a plane and headed to Belfast, Northern Ireland.  I was hosted by Gerry and Angela Kearney who guided me, lent me a very nice bike and wined/dined me at various times during the next fifteen days.  Gerry and I headed off to Scotland by ferry to meet David Gartside  for a cycle tour of several Scottish islands of the Inner Hebrides.  The tour was punctuated by shredded elbow, broken ribs, broken teeth, cancelled ferry, gale winds, rain , good single malt, memorable food and generally a great experience.  I was rewarded with many spectacular views and a lot of inspiration which , I hope, will result in some pleasing paintings.

After Scotland, Gerry and I did some cycling around Belfast, Dublin, and the western coast leading to Galway.  More inspiration, great times and no accidents.

Back in Spain on the 12th, I am putting some ideas on paper, trying to transition from acrylics back to watercolours, and cycling in dry weather.  We're also packing and planning for our annual trip to Maine and the MS Ride.  (Donations gratefully accepted at:  http://main.nationalmssociety.org/site/TR/Bike/MAMBikeEvents?px=3818121&pg=personal&fr_id=24826  )

Am looking forward to Trans-Iberia '15, the cycle trip from Lisbon across the peninsula to the Mediterranean coast where we live.  More on that later, I hope

November Already!?!?!?

Just realized that Summer is over.  Actually, I missed the start of Summer, since my last post was the 24th of May but, then, it's summer here most of the year.  So what's been going on since then?



There was the trip to the Bacolod for my 50th High School reunion.  A whirlwind trip of eight days, three of which were spent in airports, in the air or on trains.  Had a great time catching up with classmates, most of whom I hadn't seen for fifty years.  How they got old, I don't know.  We ate too much, drank too much and stayed up way too late, but it was a worthwhile trip.

Then it was off to Maine for the MS Society bike ride and all-too-short visits with the family and friends.  Having sold my car and motorcycle, I had to cycle from home to home, which was fun and kept me in good shape.  My only complaint was about a ruined wheel caused by hitting a pot hole during a thunderstorm in Augusta.  I was enjoying the downhill rush in whitewater until the impact. Didn't get up to Oakland or the County to visit friends, as I didn't have the time to cycle there.  My stay was only 28 days long, but couch-surfing from Bruce and Sylvia's to Nick's and Shan's and Dyl's took up most of the trip.

Ten days after my return, Is and I took a bus trip to Viella in the Pyrennes, spending six days in the cool mountains, winding up and down hills that would daunt most cyclists, but are actually a big draw for those looking for a challenge.  One side trip was to Luchon, in France, which was the site of one of this year's Tour de France.

There were at least three bike tours to Puerto Mazzaron, Sierra de Espuña and La Colonia de Santa Eulalia, all involving many kilometers, much good food and moderate quantities of beer and wine. They all helped push my total toward my goal of 12,000 km for the year.  Sounds like a lot, but one of our group, Tom Tychesen from Norway, set a world record for the month of July by cycling 6276.6 Kilometers-more than half what I will do for the year.

October brought the olive harvest and a couple of batches.  My tree produced only five, but they will be ready for eating in eleven days, and I will do so with gusto.  I have since found out that, though olive trees self-pollinate, they produce much more when they cross-polinate.  I see another tree in my future.  The second batch was harvested from public trees (with permission from the ayuntamiento or town hall) and will be ready 12 December, all 298 of them.  If the experiment is a success, we will do many more next fall.





We had a two week exhibition at the town library, started Spanish classes again, joined a drawing class, a T'ai Chi group (the latter two done individually) and went to Madrid for a couple of days to renew Is' Philippine passport and meet old friends.  Naturally we visited our favorite restaurants and caught a couple of art exhibits.

And that brings me up to date.

May 24 Update

When I opened up the bog to do this update, I found that I hadn't finished the post about our exhibition.  It's now done and can be seen right after this.

Toward the end of April, I took three days off from the exhibition, leaving Is to man the fort while I led a four-man bicycle assault on the Sierra de Espuña in the Region of Murcia, about 90 km. away.  The peak is 1585 meters up, just 21 fewer than Mt. Katahdin.  Unfortunately, I could not get to the peak; being a law-abiding person, I stopped at the big sign forbidding further trespass.  The armed military guards didn't scare me.  The thought of having my bike confiscated and walking back to the hotel did.  It had taken me two and a half hours to grind my way to the top, from the hotel.  The exhilarating descent only took me 56 minutes.  I could have done it faster, but being alone, I used caution as there was nobody to pick up the pieces.

After a celebratory pint, Dave and I headed north toward Cieza through some really beautiful country with vineyards, almond and citrus orchards as well as wild , mountainous vistas.  Below is a shot of Dave doing a long climb out of the Mula River Valley.  On the far mountain range in the background you can see the peak of Espuña just to the left  of Dave.  

We reached Cieza, had a couple of re-hydration beers and found a good hotel right in the centre of town.  After a much-needed shower and a short siesta, we headed for a recommended restaurant; only to find it closed.  Either it was closed on Mondays or we were too early for dinner (at 8:30 pm?!?).  After asking a helpful shopkeeper, we dined at his favorite eatery, washing the fare down with a very good house wine called  Ribera del Segura.  We are only one province away and the Segura runs right past us here, but I can't find the wine here.  Good excuse to go back.  The next day we headed home through the Ricote Valley which, in itself, is worth a few days exploring.  Knackered, we arrived home in the early evening, saddle-sore and very thirsty.  Medicinal re-hydration was necessary.

After the exhibition closed, we started packing and getting ready to meet Nick & Susan in Bilbao.  We headed to Madrid a day before, so that Is could go to the American embassy and secure a visa.  The train ride to Bilbao was a change, as we were heading away from the dry, semi-arid centre of Spain, into the lush Northwest.  It was good to see green mountains and hills again, but I dreaded the thought of continuous rain which friends had encountered the week before.  Luck was with us-the weather was fine.

As is proper, we ate too much and forced ourselves to walk it off...while searching for another good restaurant.  The food, as expected, was fine, quite different than that we find on the Costa Blanca and the local wines were all good, of course.

And then, on Friday, the 9th we headed back to Madrid to continue our "Moveable Feast" double birthday celebration.  We had more excellent meals, meeting Cely Teves and Ching and Pipe for a couple of them.  Ching, or Frances Luzuriaga lived across the street from Nick and me in Victorias, Negros Occidental when we were teenagers.  I hadn't seen Ching in 49 years.  

"Stop!!!" warned Don Quixote, "You'll crack your carbon bike frame.  Basta!  No more overeating."  So we went shopping, finding all sorts of not-really-so-necessary souvenirs with which to stuff our already-stretched luggage.  On the 12th, we hopped the train again for home.  The celebration continued with more fine, but less expensive meals cooked mostly at home; paella, steamed dorada, bbq'ed chicken and grilled mackerel. If it weren't for the cycling, I'd weigh 200 kilos.

Hasta Pronto... 

Dispatch from Cuevas del Rodeo

We opened our joint exhibit at the Cuevas Del Rodeo in Rojales on 6 April.  The weather was perfect, clear, bright and not too hot.

Vanessa, a resident artist who works in the cave next door enjoys a glass of "tinto" while checking out my Sagrada Familia  tryptich.  A fellow from Germany later stood in front of it for fifteen minutes.  No cigar, though.

Is taking a lunch break on the day before setup.  All-in-all, we had a fun, successful experience.  We sold four paintings and three prints of Banago River #7, plus many reproductions of various paintings, imbeded in souvenir gadgets such as key fobs, bottle openers, coasters and T-shirts.  We had at least 384 visitors, having lost count during the opening.

Still not used to flowers in Winter

Bloomin' Poppies

Summer here is pretty much devoid of flowers, and in many places, green.  Right now, the jade plants have loads of white flowers, the lemons and oranges are being harvested, the pansies bloom daily and everything is a different shade of green.  It's still winter.
A couple of days ago I was cycling in shorts and a summer jersey, sweating like mad.  Today was sweater-cool, but sunny.  At least it's clear.
In anticipation of our upcoming trip to Galicia, on the northeast corner of the peninsula, I checked their weather.  It was dismaying to see that two weeks of rain were expected with a couple of "partly sunny" days.  Oh, well, we're looking forward to different cuisine, scenery and a new dialect to try and fathom.

The mountain I cycled up yesterday

At least it felt that way when I got home.  I am finally over the cold and misery that Is brought back from the UK before Christmas, and yesterday decided to go out and play with the fast boys.  92 kilometers and much heavy breathing later,  I limped back to Algorfa alone.  I slowly drifted off the rear of the peloton somewhere near Orihuela and watched as they disappeared at a enviable clip.  I guess my hill training needs to be increased.

Tonight is the annual Burns by Bike dinner to celebrate Robert Burns.  It's presented by a contingent of Scots who ride and train with us.  I was planning to go on my Pub bike, but was convinced that it was not advisable to cycle the back roads on Saturday night-especially after quaffing a wee bit of the "Old Country". I'm tempted, despite warnings, to try the haggis.

Been working on a number of painting and collages and have a lot more lurking in the deep, dark recesses of my mind.  Reminds me of someone who used to ask me if I found that thought "in there", pointing at my head.  Why, yes, I did!

Silent Night (or Shut Up About How Your God Is Better Than Mine And Practice Peace)

                                           Silent Night

It was my job to do this year's Christmas cards and for all of November I wracked my brain to find something that didn't show a fat guy dressed in red or a reindeer with an alkie's nose or something dripping religious treacle.  Yeah, yeah, I know what Christmas celebrates, but given the state of the world and all the intolerance and hatred spawned by religion, I'm not in a particularly religion-friendly mood.

Anyway the card features a painting partly inspired by a midnight walk I took in my forest on Gelot (Ringdahl) Hill in New Sweden.  The air was bitterly cold, but still and every star was visible.  It was so bright in the woods that I could read by starlight.  The only sound I could hear was the snow compressing under my snowshoes, and my labored breathing.  Now that was peaceful. God was there-I know, because nothing else could have made a night so beautiful.

Peace to you all!

Overnight tour to Lorca

Last weekend seven of us took off in rather chilly and windy weather for the city of Lorca in the province of Murcia.  It was a relatively flat ride under blue skies, skirting the Sierra de Espuna and its accompanying range.

Lunch break in a sunlit square, out of the wind could only be improved upon by having a beer and a Murciano, or pastel de carne.  On the way back we stopped in Murcia at Zaher, a bakery/bar which I'm told was the originator of the meat-filled pastry.  The other six had never had the delicacy and were very pleased with it.

With time to kill before we could check in at the hotel, we explored the city center, climbing the hill to the castle and the cathedral which was damaged by the 2010 earthquake.  All around the area were many ancient buildings shored up with and reinforced by steel girders.  It's a beautiful area, nevertheless.

And then there was dinner with the accompanying delicious house wine.  We started with calamari, patatas brava, jamon serrano y juevos and gambas al ajillo and never made it to the main course; having filled up on lots of accompanying bread and at least eight bottles of red.  What a feast!

And then Petter realized we had to get on the bikes in a few hours.

And so we raced home on Sunday

11/11/13 Update

It's been almost a month since we got back to Algorfa, and it's been BUSY.  Two days after landing, we were off to Valencia to attend a competition by the three regional champion bands at the Palau des Artes Reina Sophia.  Our friend Roberto Teruel plays saxophone for the Albatera band who came out on

top in our province of Alicante.  The concert pitted the best bands from Castellon, Alicante and Valencia.  Our local band won, so the next step is the nationals in Madrid.  Anyway, we had a fun trip and got to listen to some great music in an iconic concert hall.  I can't decide whether it looks like a space ship or a fish.

 A couple of days after the concert we picked up the keys to the new house and started moving in.  This, after packing up, storing  and shipping a ton of stuff in Westbrook.
 So last Friday we're in the new place, having a housewarming for 24 guests and I'm sitting down for a break and  a bite when the doorbell rings.  It turns out that the shipment of stuff from Westbrook, which I'd been told would arrive on Monday, is here-all twenty two boxes and a table.  It's all unpacked, put away and we're into cleaning and shining up the old place so it can be photographed and put on the market next week. In the meantime, I've got to do my cycling, do some more paintings for the exhibition in April and get into some of the relaxation and chilling I've been bragging about.  More about that when it happens.  Saludos!

Farewell to Maine

This is a view from the deck at Howieland on Sebec Lake.  Some of you have been there, most probably wish they have.  Bones and I went up for what I expect will be my last hunting trip, as I've decided to close that chapter.  Many war stories were re-hashed, much beer processed and I took a few cholesterol bullets in the gut, courtesy of Simone's delicious sausage gravy over biscuits.  I've been trying to figure out how I can get it through the mail...

One shot, one kill and one barrel to clean.  It was delicious smothered in sour cream, toasted garlic and smoked paprika.

I can only think of one other spot in Maine where I've had more fun times and nicer views, but didn't have time to go there this trip.  That would be Flagstaff Lake, and I will return next year, or the year after.  Who knows?  There are big fish there.

After a brief visit and , as usual a fine meal with Doug and Rita in New Sweden, I spent the night in my tent on my land which went up for sale a couple of days later.  Kind of a nostalgic visit, as I love the place, especially the campsite I had the loggers leave untouched.  The rest of the land bears logging scars, but in the long run will be a healthier stand of woods and will support more wildlife.  After a cool night (I forgot to close the flap) and a mild rain, I bid adieu to all the memories and fine times and headed south.

I won't regale you with the details of the last week other than it entailed packing, shipping, lifting, cleaning and emptying the flat for the tenants who move in 1 Nov.  Bruce and Sylvia came over to lift a few one night and we were fortunate to still have a couch and a couple of chairs.  Adios, Westbrook.

The trip back to Algorfa was successful.  We didn't land in the Atlantic or Petrograd and only missed one connection, the last, in Murcia.  It afforded me the opportunity to re-acquaint myself with Spanish beer from the tap.  Vanessa and Richard met us at Callosa and chauffeured us home, while his "welcome home" slithered down my throat to re-acquaint me with canned Spanish beer.  Can't decide which is better, so I need to head for the cafe and investigate further.  It's good to be home, and resting for the next move-to the new home, but more on that later.

7 August and the nights are cool

Last weekend we went to New Hampshire to visit Dylan, Kristin and the granddaughters, Helena and Isla (the latest edition: 6 months).  It was warm enough for them to frolic in the pool, but I shied away from arctic temperatures and tried to stay out of Dylan's splashing range.

Helena doing the Madonna imitation                        Isla, caught in the act of attempted snacking

Two days to go before the MS ride.  I went out with Nick and cruised around the old Brunswick Naval Air Station for a couple of hours.  The old base was closed down a few years ago and is sort of depressing in its present state.  Back in "the day", it had P2Vs and P3Vs (anti-submarine patrol planes) flying around the clock, a full complement of support staff and the requisite Marine complement for security.  Progress....

 
Speaking of progress, here's a view from the cockpit of my latest ride.  Real comfy , slightly squirrely and lots of fun.  I picked it up last week through Bruce from Ernie's Cycle Shop.  One of his customers was selling it and I had just spoken with him about wanting one.  Anyway, I told him that my first trial ride was fun, but I felt tippy in it.  He told me that I'd be hard-pressed to tip it over and later told me that he'd almost bet me $50.00 that I couldn't do it.  Well, I did-not on purpose, but by not leaning right while doing a fast, tight turn.  Lost a little skin, had a laugh and now know enough to lean properly.

Today's ride was a real work-out, and I found the reason when I loaded the trike on my car.  The left disc brake was pinching the rotor.  Fixed it up and I'm planning on doing the 25-miler with the Team on Saturday.

Late July from Westbrook

I found a big bottle of wine that tastes as good as I can get at Mercadona, but at only five times the price.  Look at my smile.  Have settled in at the Westbrook digs, but we're dismantling it.  I've been photographing stuff that is going up for sale or auction, been giving books to the library, clothes and stuff to Goodwill, and jettisoning perfectly good stuff that I can't be bothered with to ship or try and sell.  I've tried to learn all the ins and outs of selling on eBay, but it all seems like such a pain.

Have yet to go up to New Sweden and see what's become of the land after logging.  The motorcycle is running and seems in as good a shape as previously, so all I need to do is load up and hit the road.  I was hoping that Derek was ready for another road trip, so we could travel together, but he's probably still recovering from the Montana trip.  The land is going up for sale-gotta pay the Spanish piper for the new house.  Any interest out there?  80 acres of old farmland for $60,000.  Get it while it's hot.

Derek with new low-speed helmet from Montana

Have finally gotten back on the bike, doing about 20 miles a day for the last three.  It feels odd being back on the large-framed Trek, but I do appreciate the triple ring and the aero bars.  The weather has been beastly hot until today.  I expect it will be cool when I head out tomorrow at 0715 to go for my annual physical.  I pride myself in being the only patient who arrives on a bicycle.  

Is, Bruce & Sylvia, returning from Fort Gorges

Bruce and Sylvia from Ernie's Cycle Shop invited us to go on the maiden voyage of their new Rangeley boat.  We toured Portland harbor and then stopped at Fort Gorges in the middle of the bay to grab a sandwich and explore the old fort.  It is quite a piece of engineering, history and granite.  It's ironic that by the time the fort was completed, armament design had surpassed the defensive capabilities designed into it.  Another example of good planning.

Off to bed now, without watching the final episodes of Fawlty Towers.  I wanted to see them all before I donate the VCR tapes to Goodwill.  NYPD Blue is next in the queue.  Hasta Pronto...

Rude Awakening

After a very hot 95 km. ride with the Amigos B group, shower, lunch and a siesta, I woke up startled to see an angel hovering over me.

After I recovered my composure and figured out that it wasn't the angel of death, I resolved to never again sit in the sun in the plaza and drink beer with Ian and Trevor.  

Just kidding.  This is actually a photo of a mosquito net that hovered over one of the beds in Las Pinas,  Philippines.  Have to admit, though, that it gave me quite a start the first time I awoke to see it.

Our short visit home is about to end.  We leave Monday, taking the Altaria to Madrid where we'll spend the night near Plaza Sol.  I want to find another great restaurant, then get some rest before the noon flight to Boston.  Things will be hectic as soon as we hit the ground, but I'll fill you in on that later, as things will surely change.

House purchase negotiations and arrangements here are almost complete, and as soon as we return in October (maybe sooner?) we'll be moving to the new digs.   Next post will probably be from the other side of the pond.  Hasta pronto.

Dancing With Death in Manila Taxicabs

The grinding howl from underneath the cab brought a grinning apology from the cabbie, "Sorry. Sir, no brakes." as he worked the gearshift to slow and swerved left; just missing a large truck by an inch or so.  On entering the back seat I had noted the shattered remains of his right-side mirror and realized that it was the first I had seen in over twenty rides we've taken since we returned.  It was certainly not the first near miss, and will surely not be the last.  We have five more days here and I don't plan to spend them indoors.
The photo was taken to try and illustrate rush hour in a monsoon downpour.  Traffic is bumper-to-bumper, speed ranging from almost reverse to fer-chrissake-slow-it-down fast.  Hanging off the back of the jeepney directly in front are the conductor and a hapless passenger who wants to get home no matter how wet he gets.  He could be wet a long time.  Our ride from the airport to Pasig took two hours for a trip of about 25 KM-longer than our flight from Dumaguete to Manila.  Anyway, the rides are always entertaining; if you enjoyed the car chase in The French Connection.  More likely than not, the seat belts are missing or buried under a seat cover.  Apparently they aren't required, but that must be for passengers, as I've noted 50/50 use by drivers.  Mandatory equipment is the rosary hanging from the mirror.  Sometimes there are several hung in various parts of the cab.  Could they be at expected impact points?  Usually there is a plastic Jesus and/or a bobblehead on the dash in front of the driver; perhaps functioning as a rudimentary aiming device. 
Cabbies run the gamut from the wannabe tour guide to the taciturn technician.  They have all been honest, though not necessarily knowlegable of Manila's micro-geography.  Traffic law compliant?  I'll remain silent on that, but will state that they are all excellent accident-avoiders.  A discussion of drivers' philosophy here would keep me up all night, but let me paraphrase it: " I can get to that space first, whether it is rightfully mine, and besides, my cab is worth less than your car or I have a bigger knife hiding behind my bigger balls."  I wish them all a safe trip home.

Bacolod to Dumaguete and points north

16 June, somewhere south of Manila.  Staying with Is' brother Charles and his wife Joy.  They are all off getting massages-a Fathers' Day treat.  I'm staying home because my body is a temple and I'm pretty selective about to whom I allow access. 

Had a good stay in Bacolod, and got to see a bunch of friends and classmates.  As usual, ate too much.  Checked out the new "Arts District" which was fairly close to where we stayed.  A couple of nice galleries there and we connected Therese Hinojales, artist and atelier owner.  We discussed our various techniques, materials and favorite artists; exchanging email addresses and websites.  At another gallery Is asked whether they had any works by Rafael Paderna, one of her long-ago instructors who originated on Negros.  Turned out that he has his own gallery in Bacolod (we had last heard that he was in California), and after a phone call we had a date to visit him the next day.  That was the highlight of our entire stay, so far. 

Paeng, as he's called, lives in a beautiful house/gallery/studio he designed and partially built himself.  We spent over an hour with him and his wife viewing his works, old and new, as well as his latest passion-sculpture in cast and welded metals.  Beside his own work he had many works by former students and current popular artists.  Below is a quick shot of his "Birdman" which won top national prize in a contest wherein the winner was to have his work recreated or placed in a Manila park.  It never happened and he learned through the grapevine that it was because he was from the provinces and not a big Manila name.  Effing politics.

And then we were off to Dumaguete, and visits with Geneva, Ave (Is' neice) and the Valencia town office where she paid the staggering sum of PHP 600 as taxes on her land.  The photo below, right is a shot of the club pool at the development where her lots are.

The other photo is a street scene shot in Malibay, one of the less glamorous neighborhoods of Metro Manila. A scene from the opposite end of the spectrum.  Of course, they are not the extremities, but pretty close. 

Catching up from Bacolod

Last week was my first taste of Korean food.  I've avoided it since the 60's when I had a Korean roommate at the University of Hawaii.  Whenever Sam would open his jar of kimchee, 4/5ths of us would leave the room.  Fan, who was Chinese, was too polite to leave....or was he secretly gorging on the questionable stuff.  Anyway we hosted all the clan that could be gathered on short notice at HoGalbi, a very nice restaurant that sits in place of the one where we had our reception two years ago.  The food was delicious.  Joining us were Anthony and Lope Consing, (seated are) Chico Locsin, Maurice Locsin and Tito Hector Hofilena.

Our last night in Manila we tried a (hand-pulled) noodle shop we'd walked past almost daily.  We'd shied away due to Is' wheat allergy, but decided that she could look for rice noodles or just plain rice.  The food was amazing!  Can't remember the name or the style of cooking, but it was picante, though not as intense as Szechuan.  More details to follow, if I can get back there on our return to Manila.

Here's the security specialist doing the pre-flight manifest check.  He's just finished shaking down the woman on the left; looking for guns hidden in her hairdo.  Pilot in background, inhaling some sort of powder.  Maybe he had a cold.

Then there was the flight down to the provinces.  We decided to hedge our bets and leave for the airport early, so as to beat the rush hour.  We over-estimated and were able to check in with one and a half hours to kill before our noon flight.  THEN, they announced a two and a half hour delay.  We sat in the departure lounge for four hours dozing and people-watching.  I was amazed.  Lunch was two steamed red hot-dogs on buns that tasted like the real things.  Only thing missing from my favorite road-trip meal was the relish, the half-pint of milk and the salt and vinegar chips.  I made up for that with a San Miguel; all for the equivalent of $4.57.  Hell, in an American or European (forget France) airport you couldn't even look at a beer for less than $8.00.

In Bacolod, now, to catch up with classmates and Millie K. and check out the visual art scene.  Taking advantage of |Is' hair appointment to do internet stuff.  'Later

Becoming a mall rat

Suman.  This one's for you, Nick

Tuesday we went to a huge 5 storey mall to get some business cards printed and wound up ordering several T-shirts decorated with some of our paintings, as well. We were told to come back in an hour, so we decided to give them two and had lunch.  Upon our return, we learned that theshop had only had two sheets of transfer film and that their regular supplier was out of stock as well.  Bukas is manana so we wandered around looking for an evening bag to go with Is' gown.  5 hours down, no joy.

Wednesday we found that the shirts were done, approved the set-up on the cards (six different versions) and were told that they'd be done by 1600 on Thursday.  Bueno, as Is had a fitting at 1400 relatively near the mall.  Continuation of bag-search with added task of finding AO Sept solution for my contact lenses.  Another 6 hours gone and all I found was that Pollo Loco is nothing like that  which Joe fed me in L.A.  I did get to experience rush hour in Manila, since we queued up for a cab at about 1730.  After at least 45 minutes in line, we were spit out into inchworm-paced traffic for an half hour trip that usually takes fifteen minutes.  That proved to me that Monday's two hour ride from the vicinity of the US Embassy to Russ' house, a distance of no more than 15 km. was not an anomaly.

True to our luck, the seamstress never showed and we wasted half an hour waiting; only to be told that she would come to our place tonight at whatever time.  That screws up Thursday evening.  The cards weren't ready both times we checked...

BUT, we had the good fortune to reach the fourth floor where the art galleries lurk.  We spent two hours killing time visiting most of them and viewing some really interesting pieces.  We were warmly welcomed at ART CIRCLE by it's proprietor Allan Caspe who, upon learning that we are painters, was most helpful with our queries about authentication, pricing and the art scene in general.  He gave us an exposition brochure in which we located Rafael Paderna, one of Is' former art teachers who now has a studio/gallery in Bacolod.

Finally, here's a photo of a really interesting scuplture by Ral Arrogante, called Horseman Figure: