Art is Free, part 2
Two museums you must not miss while in Bogotá: the Botero (FREE!) and the Museo del Oro (A BUCK FIFTY! Unbelievable.)
The courtyard at the Botero.
Botero's version of Leda and the Swan. (Is it just me, or is it getting rather hot in here?)
"According to myths, the gods gave men musical instruments so their sounds could regenerate the world. They were sacred objects, which were only exhibited and used at certain ceremonies."Our tour at the Museo del Oro lasted for well over an hour, and we picked up plenty of interesting tidbits: of tribal rituals and poisonous amphibians ("A shaman will tell you which frog is safe to lick"), and the scientific explanation behind "the curse of the pharaohs."
In another display case we discovered an ornamental phallus, and our guide said, "It is better than the original. It shines and plays music."
Botero's Terremoto en Papayán. It pretty much blew my mind that he could make a scene of cataclysmic destruction so pleasing to the eye.
Okay, I neglected to write down the title and artist for this one (the photo's not good enough for me to zoom in on the info panel, and Dr. Google couldn't help me this time), but I do remember it was painted an astonishingly long time ago--in the 1950s, I think? It looks more like 2050 to me. Awesome. If anyone can identify the artist, I'd be very grateful.
Art is Free
Bogotá wasn't our favorite stop in Colombia, but we LOVED the street art. I've never seen such gorgeous graffiti.
(Kate took at least half the photos in this post.)
These ubiquitous political stencils are incredibly effective, are they not? (A little more information here, along with more photos.)
The irreverent ones made us smile:
On the tops of buildings you can see the "green men," who are made of papier-mâché. Sierra said they were installed about twenty years ago. It's amazing they're still in such good condition! (The clown above was our favorite.)And another green man:
Looking back over our photos now, this one is definitely my favorite.
The Ihlara Valley
Here are our last batch of photos from Cappadocia! One day we rented a car in Goreme in lieu of taking an organized tour--less expensive and way more flexible. (And anyway, none of us are all that keen on traveling with a pack of strangers. Sometimes you meet lovely people that way, but if they're not lovely then you're stuck with them for HOURS. Bwahahaha.)First stop, the underground city at Derinkuyu:
Elliot [washing Kate's dirty underpants]: It looks like somebody died in these.
Next stop, the 10th-century rock-cut Gümüşler Monastery. It was closed for lunch when we first arrived, so we spent a bit of time exploring the caves across the street.
At this point Elliot goes, "Don't worry. Even if I fell I probably wouldn't die." Probably true, but not exactly reassuring. (I guess he was maybe thirty feet up?)Can you see him in this one?:
Below: the monastery chapel. These paintings aren't quite as breathtaking as those of the Dark Church, but they were still pretty awesome.
We reached the Ihlara Valley quite late in the day, so we weren't able to see much, but it was very tranquil and we got to see the Kirkdamalti Kilisi (the Church of St. George) in a cave a few minutes' hike up from the main path.
The amount of graffiti on the walls of this sacred place was nothing short of horrifying.
So some artist a long, long time ago used his God-given talent to create something beautiful, and then some jerks came along and did their best to spoil it. How sad.(I know there's graffiti everywhere, but I'm not used to seeing it on sublime works of art. Why scratch your name across the face of an angel? How does that make you feel like somebody important?)ANYwho. Two more Turkey entries and then it's on to Colombia!
A Very Primitive Species
Jeff Bridges is an amazing actor. He was robbed of an Oscar for Starman (1984), in which he plays an alien who clones Karen Allen's dead husband and leads her on a three-day road trip from Wisconsin to Arizona to meet his spaceship at the bottom of a crater. I know it sounds nutty, but it's actually a really romantic and thought-provoking movie. For example:
Starman: Dead deer? Why?Jenny: People hunt them, to eat, for food.Starman: Do deer eat people?Jenny: No.Starman: Do people eat people?Jenny: No, no, of course not. What do you think we are?Starman: I think you are a very primitive species.
Starman later brings the deer back to life, and the jerk hunter you see in the background (no, he really is a jerk) rounds up a bunch of cronies and they all try to beat him up.Watching this scene reminded me of a little thought experiment I come back to every now and again. We are at the top of the food chain, yes? But what if we weren't? What if some aliens touched down and announced that we were to be, wink wink nudge nudge, the guests of honor at their spaceship dinner party? They'd only be using the same rationale that we're using now.Hold up a second, someone might say to me. WE are a SENTIENT species.Sentient—yeah, okay, so we're sentient. Which means we ought to know better. Who's to say an animal suffers any less than we would, if we were put in the same position?***While we're on the subject, yesterday morning the wonderful vegan cookbook author/podcaster Colleen Patrick-Goudreau was interviewed on KQED (California public radio), and she tackled a lot of common questions and concerns people have about veganism and vegan nutrition; you can listen to the archived program here.***Okay, I have to come clean on one point. In the movie, Starman does eat a hamburger. [EDIT, 2018: I misremembered! Rewatched this movie recently and it's Karen Allen eating the hamburger. Starman just eats a lot of pie.]
Ishkabibble!
Sierra in Villa de Leyva on a sunny Sunday morning, wearing the Ishbel I made her as a birthday/hostess gift."Ishkabibble" is my grandfather's sometime nickname for my sister, after a comedian/musician from the 1940s. There are well over 10,000 Ishbels on Ravelry, so I thought I would call this one something different.
Limonada de coco. OH. MY. GOODNESS. We can die happy. (This was in Cartagena, not Villa de Leyva. I had to sneak Kate in here somehow.)Now for more pictures of a pretty shawl (perfect marriage of yarn and pattern!) on a very pretty lady...
I used Jill Draper Makes Stuff Splendor Sock, which is THE yarn that is making me sad to be going 100% vegan (i.e., not buying any more wool. If you'd like to know why I've made this decision, listen to this podcast.)
(Ravelry project link.)
This is one of my favorite photos. She's got a secret and wouldn't you like to know it. Hee!
Eating Vegan in Colombia
Sierra made this incredibly delicious soup by roasting tomatoes, onions, and garlic for a couple hours and then putting it through the blender. HOLY CRAP it was awesome.People keep asking me, "Wasn't it REALLY hard to be vegan in Colombia?"Nope.That's not to say it isn't carne, carne, y más carne everywhere you go, but there are many good vegetarian eateries too. I found at least one in virtually every town I visited:
Girasoles in Cartagena. This is the place I went to every day while I was writing. We also went to Govinda's, which was fairly good, but Girasoles is better, and a way better value too (7,000 pesos for juice, soup, and a big plate of yum).
Albahaca in Bucaramanga. I love that all the ingredients are laid out in little plastic tubs on a table by the door, and you just choose what you want and they sauté it up for you with fresh herbs.
Restaurante Vegetariano Saludable Delicia in San Gil. Best seitan steak ever!
Mandala Arte y Sabor in Barichara. Same deal here for lunch--only 7,000 pesos. I believe they called this "vegetable paella." Nom!
A very friendly veggie café in Villa de Leyva (I can't seem to find the name by googling, but it's just north of the Plaza Mayor on Calle 12). That lentil burger with chutney was taaaaasty. Again, only 7,000 pesos, and that included soup, juice, tea, and dessert!(You may have noticed that there is no entry from Bogotá. We wanted to try Quinua y Amaranto, but every time we went it was closed. Boo!)
Hitchin' a Ride, part 2
We spotted a hitchhiker on the bus to Nevsehir (en route to "wonderful Kizkalesi").Elliot [a tiny bit freaked out]: It's going to mate with me and then eat me!!!
The Laughter of Sanity
I have another guest post up on Nova's blog today! I hope you enjoy it. (You can enter to win a copy of Mary Modern, too!)
A very long time ago, when this thing was a mattress, many babies were made upon it.
I'll Pass, Thanks
A vendor at the Uçhisar Castle entrance pulled open a dried apricot, tucked three kinds of nuts inside, and handed it to Elliot. Elliot, being gentlemanly, passed it along to Kate. "Natural Viagra!" the man said as she was about to bite into it. She hurriedly handed it back.
Hitchin' a Ride
Further adventures in Cappadocia...
"Hop on, Mama! I take you all the way to America!"Later that same day we hitched a ride back into Göreme on a tractor bed:
(Man, that was fun!)
This farmer dropped us off at the edge of town, and gave us this thoroughly disgusted look when we tried to pay him.
Scribbling Away in Cartagena
(Reading D.K. Broster in the hotel hammock. Couching at the Door is an excellent collection of creepy stories!)I'm home! Pretty much every trip I take seems like the best ever, and Colombia is no exception. I've got plenty of photos and stories to post, but for now I just want to show you how I spent my last three days in Cartagena, after Kate went back to D.C. and Sierra home to Bucaramanga.
I wrote. A LOT. Don't look too closely at the scribbling—it's still a rough draft—but you get the idea. I went down to the hotel café for coffee, headed out to a vegetarian restaurant for lunch each day, and one afternoon I took some time out to visit the Palace of the Inquisition, but for the most part I just wrote. Leaving my laptop at home was a very good idea. (You can pick up WiFi at most hotels and cafés in Colombia.)
After Cartagena I took the bus to Bucaramanga to hang out with Sierra for a week and a half or so. (I went with her to school and watched her teach! She cooked fabulous vegan meals and threw a dinner party in my honor!) I got a lot done in Buca too, but there's definitely something to be said for self-imposed social isolation when you're looking to--figuratively speaking-- kick your own took. Nova sometimes books a hotel room for a weekend so she can write non-stop, and I'd really been wanting to try it myself. I managed to find that essential combination: an inexpensive but comfortable hotel (i.e., where I can sit for hours and no one will bother me), no company, and no WiFi. That was all I needed.
Once I'd written enough to feel that glow of satisfaction in the afternoon, I treated myself to a shake. Mango + spearmint = BLISS!I'll tell you more about what I'm working on once I've actually finished the draft. Until then--more about Colombia! (And Turkey too, I still haven't finished blogging about Turkey!)
FAQ: Writer's block
Over the course of my whirlwind day at Mount Calvary, several questions popped up again and again, so that I'd have to pause (wait a second, didn't somebody already ask me this?) before I remembered that I was talking to a new group of students (duh, that was last period!) So I figured I'd answer some of those frequently asked questions again here on the blog.
QUESTION: How do you deal with writer's block?
I've observed that much of the agitation surrounding the unfortunate phenomenon of "writer's block" comes from comparing oneself to other writers. Maybe your friend is excitedly scribbling away in his notebook beside you; maybe you've heard of some other writer who begins a new story the day he puts the final polish on the previous one. Why can't I be that productive? Every idea I come up with is garbage, just one cliché after another. Will I ever feel that thrill of writing a nice piece of description or dialogue again? Hah. I DOUBT IT.
You're putting so much energy into fretting about having no ideas, it's no wonder you can't come up with any!
So A, stop looking over at what your neighbor is doing, and B, don't try so hard. I know that's easy to say. You might end up trying too hard not to try too hard. So stop trying. Read a good novel, or go to an art museum, or follow the thread on a fascinating line of research. (What did people do for entertainment in the 18th century?...puppet shows, Punch and Judy...magic lanterns...Fantasmagorie..."A Trip to the Moon"...etc., etc.) You'll have so much fun falling down a rabbit hole that you'll forget your frustration entirely.
I don't actually believe in writer's block. Yes, I've gone for a year or two between novel projects, struggling through a few false starts along the way, but I choose to see this stepping in the dark as part of the process, not a hindrance to it. Of course it can be very aggravating when the pieces are taking what feels like ages to assemble themselves, but during those periods I've never thought of myself as "blocked." I prefer to think of those "fallow" periods as "filling up," which is what you're doing when you're enjoying somebody else's book or painting or film, or working on a story that is preparing you for the real magnum opus. You're discovering, again, all that's important to you, and in the meantime all those marvelous little pieces in the back of your head are going to assemble themselves into the outlines of a story.
It will happen, I promise—but only when you're not worrying over it.
And if you don't quite believe me, consider this. I told you in this post that the story attached to that "brain dump" would probably never amount to anything. Guess what? I was wrong. It just needed a couple of years to sort itself out!
(This may be my last post for awhile. My sister and I are leaving for Colombia tomorrow!)
Balloons!
Yes, taking a hot air balloon ride in Cappadocia is expensive and SUPER TOURISTY. But as you can see, you'd be a fool to skip it.
You get up while it's still dark, take a shuttle bus to the office of the balloon operator, where tea and pastries are served before everyone gets split into big groups and whisked off to the launching site. The balloons go up as the sun is rising.
Our pilot, doing his thing.I can't even remember exactly many people there were on board with us (maybe 30?) or how long the ride lasted (maybe an hour?) It was totally breathtaking the whole way through. We loved it.At one point a Chinese tourist plaintively asked (kidding, I think--I hope!): "Is possible to go to bathroom?"We went as high as 1,080 meters!
And if I had to choose my very favorite picture from our Turkey trip, this would be it.
A Good Man is Hard to Find, part 2
An interlude with a bushy-mustached, roly-poly tea-and-nut seller near the Open Air Museum:
Man: How you like Turkey?
Kate: Çok güzel! ("choke-oo-zahl," very beautiful)
Man (to Kate): You are çok güzel. (Points to me) You are sisters?
Kate and me: Yes, we are kardeş.
Man (to Elliot): Brother?
Kate: No, we are... (makes a smooching noise)
Man (to me): You have boyfriend?
Me: (shaking head)
Man: Why you no have boyfriend?
Me: No good men left in America! (points to Elliot) Except for this one.
Elliot: (holds out his hand and makes the 'so-so' gesture)
Man (to me): You find boyfriend!
Me: I'll try! (to Kate): Okay, I'll buy some apple tea. I'll laugh every time I drink it.
Snapshots from Cappadocia
"Pardon me: may I suck on your nip?"We had a totally awesome time in Cappadocia--hiking among weird rock formations in the "Love Valley" (so named for its proliferation of phallic rocks) and elsewhere, breathtaking frescoes in rock-cut churches (you must go to the Dark Church at the Goreme Open Air Museum! now that was a spiritual experience), goofing around the castle at Uchisar...not to mention the hot air balloon ride!The photos below are from our walks in the valleys, but I've got plenty more to post after this.
A nice man rode up on a motorbike and offered to take our picture.
Growing grapes!
We walked (and crawled) through some rather spooky caves.
City of a Thousand Gods
Another cool thing we wouldn't have seen on our original itinerary is Hattuşa (or Hattusha), the capital of the Hittite empire during the Bronze Age (c. 3300-1200 BC). It's been called, rather romantically, "the city of a thousand gods."
The Hittites, as I may have mentioned, had a thing for lions. (Seems like all those ancient cultures did--the Phrygians may have inherited it from them?)
Archaeological excavation is ongoing. A steadily ascending road road leads you up to a series of old city gates with some pretty spectacular views.
We walked down this tunnel to a path that hugged the city wall on the outside (see previous group photo).
"Does it recommend a good place for lunch?"Speaking of lunch, I may have mentioned in an earlier post that we were visiting Turkey during Ramadan, a time when devout Muslims do not eat or drink while the sun is up. This often made something as seemingly simple as lunch into a proper challenge. Thankfully, on this particular afternoon we found a very kind restaurant owner back in the little town who was willing to open up just for us. (Those poor guys, sitting at a neighboring table watching us as we devoured big plates of salad and fresh bread!)
After our meal we hired a taxi to Yazilikaya for some kick-ass Hittite reliefs. This was a holy site for those who lived in "the city of a thousand gods," some of which are depicted in these reliefs. It's still a very peaceful place.
Next posts: CAPPADOCIA, woo hoo!
Great Book #71: A Good Man is Hard to Find
Everywhere I go I'm asked if I think the university stifles writers. My opinion is that they don't stifle enough of them. There's many a best-seller that could have been prevented by a good teacher.
--Flannery O'Connor
The first time I came across that quote, the last sentence was missing, which of course distorts the writer's intention. For years I had the idea that Flannery O'Connor was a shameless elitist, and so I put off reading her. Later on, when I was living in Galway, I came across an old paperback copy of A Good Man Is Hard To Find at Bell, Book & Candle. It smelled slightly of mold, but that didn't put me off, because living in Ireland your books pretty much always smell like that. I read the title story and felt like I'd been kicked in the face. I couldn't crack the book again for almost three years.
Mrs. Pritchard could not stand an anticlimax. She required the taste of blood from time to time to keep her equilibrium. (from "A Circle in the Fire")
A few months ago (thanks to a recommendation from Paré) I read Ann Napolitano's novel, A Good Hard Look, which is a fictionalized account of O'Connor's life in Milledgeville, Georgia. It's beautifully written, and--what do you know?--it got me all psyched up to re-tackle A Good Man is Hard to Find.
These short stories are, as I tweeted back when I was reading them, a tall drink of vinegar. Most of her characters are selfish and ignorant and capable of the most horrifying acts, be they violent (escaped convicts shooting a carful of people one by one) or quietly heartless (a man denying that he knows his own grandson to a bunch of strangers). People do detestable things like this every day. Does that make it human nature?
She could never be a saint, but she thought she could be a martyr if they killed her quick. (from "A Temple of the Holy Ghost")
Reading these stories you feel dirty, exposed, raw. It's not as if the author has pointed at some dark, cruel part of you that you'd rather keep hidden—her characters are usually so mean spirited that I'm hard pressed to see anything of myself in them at all—and yet, they resonate. I finished this collection months ago, and I haven't brought myself to blog about it because I can't quite figure out why they resonate. Yes, of course each story is astonishingly well written. There's not a superfluous word in the book. On the level of craft, they are absolutely beautiful stories.
Have you ever actually had a tall drink of vinegar? I did recently, when my dad left a stainless steel pitcher he was rinsing out with vinegar on the kitchen table. Thinking it was full of water, I poured myself a glass, took a gulp, and swallowed it with eyes bulging even though my brain was screaming at me to spit it out.
I found water, real water this time, guzzled it out of a clean glass, and kept shivering and making faces for a good half hour. Well, now I know what a tall drink of vinegar tastes like, I thought. And I won't ever forget it.
Making Lemonade, Turkey Style
Sometimes plans go awry, and the itinerary must be changed. We weren't originally supposed to visit Ankara, the capital of Turkey, but we definitely made the most of our couple days there. It's quite a pleasant city. These photos are from the Museum of Anatolian Civilizations, an absolute must see.
The reconstruction of a typical dwelling at Catal Huyuk. I learned about this important Neolithic settlement (c. 7500-5700 BC) in World Art in high school, so I was really excited to see this exhibit. They buried the bones of their ancestors in the floor of the house, as you can see at bottom center. Fascinating stuff!
Fertility goddesses galore!
Neo-Hittite orthostat of a chimera, carved out of basalt. Three-headed sphinx. It is a winged lion with a head of a bird of prey on its tail. On top of its head is a human head with a long plait, and wearing a conical hat. The details on its foot are very clear.
"Winged Griffin-Demons." Also Neo-Hittite. Their hands rise above their heads, supposedly carrying the sky.
Then to a charming Ottoman house for lunch!
Ideas, part 3: Using Them
I meant to finish up this series months ago. Oops. First off, some refresher links:
Ideas, part 2: Keeping Organized.
There is one terrific source of ideas I neglected to mention in my first post: dreams! Even one perfect detail in an otherwise nonsensical dream can lead to something useful. A few years ago (it must've been 2007), I dreamed I was standing in a graveyard outside an old stone church. Out of nowhere a man on a bicycle appeared. He was dressed like a jester, with an elaborately embroidered red-and-white suit covered in tiny bells and an enormous headdress with animal horns coming out of it, and he jingled as he pedaled around the headstones. He wasn't sinister at all; I just remember watching him and being fascinated by the general bizarreness. He pedaled around the corner of the church and, just as he was about to hit the side of the building, the back wheel of his bicycle went up into the air like he was descending into the ground, and he vanished.I wish I could dream stuff like this more often—you know, the kind of dream that still makes its own peculiar kind of sense when you try recounting it to someone (as opposed to the garden-variety dream, in which the narrative only holds together while you are still dreaming it). Anyway, that bicycling-jester-in-the-graveyard dream inspired this paragraph from the Petty Magic Christmas chapter:
Another concrete example of source to story is the time I overheard a pair of avid cyclists chatting on the PATH train, which I blogged about here. (I still chuckle over that one whenever I think of it.)Other times I go out into the world knowing exactly the kind of experience I want to have, just so I can write about it.
(Written during a trip to Nuremberg in December 2008.)Finding a use for good ideas seems like the effortless part; it's the keeping your eyes and ears open and jotting down anything interesting that may take a certain degree of mindfulness and practice.Write everything down, even if it's just a word or phrase you like the ring of. (Skullduggery. Thaumatrope. 'Dead, yet speaketh.')Write it down even if it doesn't have anything to do with the story. It might. (Christmas cards. Chaos = self organizing. Gingerbread recipe?)Write it down even if it (seemingly) doesn't make any sense. (Mr. Pants. Marsh bandits. The corpse and her impostor.)The act of writing it down puts the idea in play, adds it to the pot, or whichever metaphor you prefer. Let it kick, or bounce, or stew, or mingle. One idea may prove itself the kernel of the best poem you ever write, and another will never amount to more than words on a card; but it may be years before you can tell which is which, so you might as well write everything down.Ultimately, if it's a really great idea, you don't end up using it. It uses you.