Dusk has fallen, and we’re at the foot of the equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius on the Capitoline Hill. MB, G., and I are freezing in the damp Roman air, so we button up our jackets and prepare to head off to the celebratory street dancing and music promised for the 150th anniversary of the Unification of Italy.
Continue reading "Gov. Bill Richardson, New Mexico, and the 7th Hill of Rome" »
We are not Caesar, and we avoided the Forum, so I can say with confidence that The Ides of March was by far our best day in Rome. After days of clouds and rain, the sun and the moon both showed their faces. We couldn’t seem to tear ourselves away from the Piazza de España and by dusk, we were still there, drinking prosecco at a café under moon clouds.
“How do we rearrange our lives to live in this magnificent city?” we ask ourselves. There’s something about Rome at night, especially under a waxing moon, that causes me to think that reinventing my life and steering it against all the plans that drive me forward is the most natural thing in the world to do. Here, in this city of fallen empires and lovers on Vespas, going against the current of one’s well-planned life seems possible, even wise. The words of Keats, once an expatriate in Rome,
Here in Rome, tsunamis and earthquakes seem as distant as the dated letters of the 18th century Grand Tourists- the young British noblemen who came to Rome to study Italian art and to carry marble busts and statues back home to England.
Here in Rome's historical district there are no skyscrapers, no billboards, and no high-speed expressways. Instead, we walk over streets and sidewalks of cobblestone polished smooth by centuries of moving carriage wheels and the shuffle of pedestrians’ feet. One, red geranium peaks over a windowsill high above the street. There is more marble here than tarmac, and more cafes and patisseries than fast food. Our hotel has ornate, brass handrails and well-worn, marble steps leading all the way up to the 6th floor. In this neighborhood, there is no evidence, thank Artemis, of America: no McDonald's, no Starbucks, no strip malls, no Hummers. Instead: family-run ristourantes, cafes, small specialty shops, and Vespas.
As I walk on the very stones on which Julius Caesar walked on his way to the Forum,
"It is so much like a beach after all
Where you stand and think of going no further."
Reflections on a poem bolted to a steel bridge: a photo journey.
Over the years blogging had taken me away from my spiral, hardbound notebooks, my multi-colored pens, my propensity to glue things (like ticket stubs, favorite articles, and paraphernalia found on bar counters, restaurants floors, and airplane seat pockets) into my journal . So, when I saw the Split Rock Arts Program offering the course called “The Visual Journal: Exploring Urban Landscape" taught by artist by Julie Baugnet (an artist featured in Drawing from Life by Jennifer New), I caught the first plane to the Twin Cities. I wasn’t disappointed.
(all photos by shamash)
We are so “Thelma and Louise”, so I will call her Thelma.
She drives a hot, silver-bullet of a car, an Audi TT, that makes you want to drive, drive, drive for days through the winding forest roads of northern Minnesota on a road trip into the unknown.
But, we had to stop to fill up at this gas station designed by the one-and-only Frank Lloyd Wright.
This is a picture I took of the State Capital of Minnesota through the window of a bus I never planned to take, in a part of town I never planned to visit.
Some of my most profound life lessons have come from my solitary travel and sometimes, the greatest travel adventures happen when nothing goes as planned. Despite what you see and read in the news (violent crime, kidnappings, and murder) America is a not the big, scary place we see on the news.
There is a warm web of community among strangers who meet at bus stops, and for every crime reported in the media, there are thousands of untold stories and numerous unsung heroes who lend helping hands to a frantic traveler like me who would be unable to make it to her destination without the kindness of strangers.
I realize that I’ve entered this place with the eye of a stranger in a strange land. An American expatriate who has lived in a developing nations for over ten years and who is coming from a lands with power outages, lack of medical care and extreme poverty, my perception of this mall is quite different to those who have made a visit to this place part of their summer vacation.
(images by shamash)
Continue reading "The Mall of America: Bigger? Better? Best?" »
"Art offers something else--depth, involvement, a new way of looking at the world that we live in, a fresh approach to what we take for granted, a chance to experience freedom of the imagination."
-Meredith Monk, composer, singer, director, choreographer
(image by René Magritte via artchive)
I regularly visit online museums all over the world. I take virtual tours of The Louvre. (click here.) The Metropolitan Museum of Art (click here) The Art Institute of Chicago. (click here.)
But the computer screen cannot replace the experience of visiting an art gallery or museum. Here’s why.
We’ve shopped for antiques in Rangoon, silverware in Bangkok, silk in Saigon, but nothing compares to our adventures in the Big Apple.
(photos by shamash)
