Africa was a little more interesting, Paris a lot more fun.
Not feeling the holiday spirit yet.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Europe
I survived Africa. One week ago I stepped off a bus in Paris, huddled against the cold, groggy in the pre-dawn, said a silent thank you and thought yes, yes I did it! I finished, drew a rough wavy line over thousands of miles of African savannah, came out the other end three months later and a few pounds lighter, and it was done, really really done, I was euphoric. I realize this sounds absurd, but the first thing I did that morning was walk through the Arc De Triomphe like I was Napoleon or something, like I was in a one-man parade, and damn it felt good, felt good just to be back, to be on the other side.
The second thing I did, at ten in the morning, was to catch a movie. There were four choices, Keira Knightly was in one and that's really good enough for me. Hadn't seen a movie since August and I don't care if 'The Dutchess' is a chick flick, I sat back and relaxed and its just so good to be back in civilization.
Paris, Paris the colonial motherland, Paris the center, Paris with its grand boulevards, its imperial architecture, its vastness and beauty, its winter chill and beautiful nights, what a shock, what a wonderful shock after three months of mud huts and straw roofs! I love it, I love places like this, I love glorious monuments to glorious deeds, love big museums, love the grandness, love the celebration. I found a place to stay, slept 12 hours, found a cheerful friend to share the day with, then walked all over town, visited old favorites at the Louvre, and can you ever get enough Delacroix and Rubens? I stayed in Paris just two days, then on to Antwerp and now Vienna, and it turns out that Europe is just one big party, it's the after-Africa party and it's the best party I've ever been to. The last five days have been a blur of smoky bars, throbbing punk clubs, great people, new friends and old friends, quite a few too many beers, a few sunrises, and really I havent partied this hard in years, if ever.
I came to Antwerp to see Rubens' triptychs in the cathedral -- well worth the visit to be sure --and found to my surprise that Antwerp is a wonderfull and strange little town, a dream of old old buildings, cobblestone streets, beautiful lights from hundreds of little bars and restaurants reflecting in the rain. The bars are full of a sturdy, hard-drinking, hard-smoking, fun-loving people, and its like everyone's living in a Breughel painting, a modern Breughel painting with lots of little dramas and it's great. Met a friend of a friend at an artworld afterparty, caught up with an old college roommate, met some new friends too, and each afternoon woke up with an anti-hangover, feeling better than ever. For sure I'll be back one day.
Vienna is a bit like Paris, it was the capital of a grand empire and all the old emperial glamour remains, huge palaces, gilded statues, wide avenues, trolleys, all the good stuff. I've been staying here with a painter friend, and in addition to the museums we got a taste of the city's late night scene and stumbled home two nights in a row after some good times. In the museums Egon Schiele stands as the champion, not all his work but the big paintings are simply raw. Next to him Klimt is a little boring, a little too-fine, the younger colleaugue just hit harder. From the Renaissance, Perugino is a new surprise, he made such sweet, lovely figures, and Raphael always makes me happy. Titian is solid and strong as ever but Caravaggio disappointed, as did all his followers. Rubens rushed through more than half his paintings but the ones he cared to finish are stunning.
I've got a few more days in Europe, then the party's really over and Michael its time to go home, home to the USA. Can't say I'm looking forward to it, but I do miss friends and family and the holidays should bring a cheer. Then I'll jump back in the game, not quite sure how or where but I'll let you know.
The second thing I did, at ten in the morning, was to catch a movie. There were four choices, Keira Knightly was in one and that's really good enough for me. Hadn't seen a movie since August and I don't care if 'The Dutchess' is a chick flick, I sat back and relaxed and its just so good to be back in civilization.
Paris, Paris the colonial motherland, Paris the center, Paris with its grand boulevards, its imperial architecture, its vastness and beauty, its winter chill and beautiful nights, what a shock, what a wonderful shock after three months of mud huts and straw roofs! I love it, I love places like this, I love glorious monuments to glorious deeds, love big museums, love the grandness, love the celebration. I found a place to stay, slept 12 hours, found a cheerful friend to share the day with, then walked all over town, visited old favorites at the Louvre, and can you ever get enough Delacroix and Rubens? I stayed in Paris just two days, then on to Antwerp and now Vienna, and it turns out that Europe is just one big party, it's the after-Africa party and it's the best party I've ever been to. The last five days have been a blur of smoky bars, throbbing punk clubs, great people, new friends and old friends, quite a few too many beers, a few sunrises, and really I havent partied this hard in years, if ever.
I came to Antwerp to see Rubens' triptychs in the cathedral -- well worth the visit to be sure --and found to my surprise that Antwerp is a wonderfull and strange little town, a dream of old old buildings, cobblestone streets, beautiful lights from hundreds of little bars and restaurants reflecting in the rain. The bars are full of a sturdy, hard-drinking, hard-smoking, fun-loving people, and its like everyone's living in a Breughel painting, a modern Breughel painting with lots of little dramas and it's great. Met a friend of a friend at an artworld afterparty, caught up with an old college roommate, met some new friends too, and each afternoon woke up with an anti-hangover, feeling better than ever. For sure I'll be back one day.
Vienna is a bit like Paris, it was the capital of a grand empire and all the old emperial glamour remains, huge palaces, gilded statues, wide avenues, trolleys, all the good stuff. I've been staying here with a painter friend, and in addition to the museums we got a taste of the city's late night scene and stumbled home two nights in a row after some good times. In the museums Egon Schiele stands as the champion, not all his work but the big paintings are simply raw. Next to him Klimt is a little boring, a little too-fine, the younger colleaugue just hit harder. From the Renaissance, Perugino is a new surprise, he made such sweet, lovely figures, and Raphael always makes me happy. Titian is solid and strong as ever but Caravaggio disappointed, as did all his followers. Rubens rushed through more than half his paintings but the ones he cared to finish are stunning.
I've got a few more days in Europe, then the party's really over and Michael its time to go home, home to the USA. Can't say I'm looking forward to it, but I do miss friends and family and the holidays should bring a cheer. Then I'll jump back in the game, not quite sure how or where but I'll let you know.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Leaving Africa
I spent about a week getting from Timbuktou to Dakar and, excepting one particularly long bus-ride, this last leg of the trip was good fun. For the first time I met up with other travelers, downed some good beers, ate in restaurants, and got to know some interesting characters.
I met Jeff, an English Iraq-vet and security contractor who was taking a 2-year spin around the globe on a motorcycle (he looked and acted exactly like that soldier from the cable show Rome, Vorinus I think?); I met his companion Mark, an SF vet like myself, and we agreed to meet up for a beer in March; I met Mike, a long-bearded Scottish postman who endured the ride across Senegal with me; I met Paul, who makes his living buying and trading Chicago White-Sox tickets like it's some kind of stock; I met Ragnar, a young Norwegian girl who amazingly is on her way overland from Norway to the the Congo (yes, she knows there's a war there) and who had earlier traveled for three years across Asia, including Afganistan in 2004.
In Bamako, the capital of Mali, I started the last punishment of this trip: a 24-hour busride to Dakar that took 55 hours. It was awful, I don't care to write too much about it except to say we were endlessly delayed by police, 'gendarmerie', toll officialls, soldiers, and that we spent one night outdoors on a concrete pad at a busstation and I woke up with over fifty mosquito bites, a second night rudely awakened by over-eager toll officials, and that it was hot, overcrowded, they stored gasoline in the aisles, and my only luck was meeting up with Mike for part of the journey, the aforementioned Scottish postman. To give you some idea of corruption and inefficiency in Africa, the bus paid over 200 dollars in bribes to dozens of uniformed officials in both Mali and Senegal, and still our bags were searched and id's checked. The road in some places -- that's the main road between the capital cities of two nations-- was so riddled with potholes that we spent hours at a time cruising at five to ten mph.
Now I'm in Dakar, where the trip ends. I met my Dad here a week ago, he was on his way back from a business trip in South Africa and me on the way back from a marginally-business trip, and the timing worked out well, and it's been great to see a familar face and have good conversations and catch up after so long.
Although we're heading to the airport tonight I in essence checked out of Africa three days ago, when we checked into a swank lux hotel on the outskirts of town, complete with 50-meter swimming pool, chaise lounges, coctails with the lime placed just so, you get the idea. We also had excursions to St. Louis, the earliest French colonial town in West Africa, and a trip to the Parque National de Ouiseaux de Djoudj. The park is a sanctuary for migrating birds in a huge wetlands by the Senegal River, and from a boat we saw beautiful cormorants catching fish, a huge colonly of pelicans, a lone pelican (they fly solo when wounded or sick), lone herons, black and white egrets, ducks, eagles, and the 'Sacred Ibis' which looked just like an ancient Egyptian sculpture in the Palace of the Legion of Honor back in SF (both the bird and the sculpture are extraordinary). We also saw a big bad crocodile.
I'm leaving Africa now, leaving tired and happy, looking forward to coming home, grateful for the things I've seen, and thinking that one day, a long time from now, I might just be back.
(But before I return, a quick stop in Europe.)
I met Jeff, an English Iraq-vet and security contractor who was taking a 2-year spin around the globe on a motorcycle (he looked and acted exactly like that soldier from the cable show Rome, Vorinus I think?); I met his companion Mark, an SF vet like myself, and we agreed to meet up for a beer in March; I met Mike, a long-bearded Scottish postman who endured the ride across Senegal with me; I met Paul, who makes his living buying and trading Chicago White-Sox tickets like it's some kind of stock; I met Ragnar, a young Norwegian girl who amazingly is on her way overland from Norway to the the Congo (yes, she knows there's a war there) and who had earlier traveled for three years across Asia, including Afganistan in 2004.
In Bamako, the capital of Mali, I started the last punishment of this trip: a 24-hour busride to Dakar that took 55 hours. It was awful, I don't care to write too much about it except to say we were endlessly delayed by police, 'gendarmerie', toll officialls, soldiers, and that we spent one night outdoors on a concrete pad at a busstation and I woke up with over fifty mosquito bites, a second night rudely awakened by over-eager toll officials, and that it was hot, overcrowded, they stored gasoline in the aisles, and my only luck was meeting up with Mike for part of the journey, the aforementioned Scottish postman. To give you some idea of corruption and inefficiency in Africa, the bus paid over 200 dollars in bribes to dozens of uniformed officials in both Mali and Senegal, and still our bags were searched and id's checked. The road in some places -- that's the main road between the capital cities of two nations-- was so riddled with potholes that we spent hours at a time cruising at five to ten mph.
Now I'm in Dakar, where the trip ends. I met my Dad here a week ago, he was on his way back from a business trip in South Africa and me on the way back from a marginally-business trip, and the timing worked out well, and it's been great to see a familar face and have good conversations and catch up after so long.
Although we're heading to the airport tonight I in essence checked out of Africa three days ago, when we checked into a swank lux hotel on the outskirts of town, complete with 50-meter swimming pool, chaise lounges, coctails with the lime placed just so, you get the idea. We also had excursions to St. Louis, the earliest French colonial town in West Africa, and a trip to the Parque National de Ouiseaux de Djoudj. The park is a sanctuary for migrating birds in a huge wetlands by the Senegal River, and from a boat we saw beautiful cormorants catching fish, a huge colonly of pelicans, a lone pelican (they fly solo when wounded or sick), lone herons, black and white egrets, ducks, eagles, and the 'Sacred Ibis' which looked just like an ancient Egyptian sculpture in the Palace of the Legion of Honor back in SF (both the bird and the sculpture are extraordinary). We also saw a big bad crocodile.
I'm leaving Africa now, leaving tired and happy, looking forward to coming home, grateful for the things I've seen, and thinking that one day, a long time from now, I might just be back.
(But before I return, a quick stop in Europe.)
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