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Showing posts with label Travels Near and Far. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Travels Near and Far. Show all posts

Sunday, January 24, 2021

News Trend Today|Actual

"It'll be alright when the morning comes." - Hall & Oates

Early morning view of the Shoshone River in Cody, Wyoming, just east of Yellowstone.

As expected, I woke up this morning feeling perfectly normal.

No, I'd go so far as to say better than normal.

Construction, reflection and other forms of organized chaos greet the day in Singapore.

Ready to get on my game, organized and rested, I tackled the first day of school after Christmas break with equal parts I-missed-this-lovely-routine and next-stop-is-spring-break.

And even though last night - the night before the first day back - was the absolute rock bottom of my annual emotional cycle, I knew my funk wouldn't last.

Sunrise over the South China Sea near Danang, Vietnam.

Sometimes, a good night's sleep makes all the difference in the world.

* * * * *

Celebrate the Twelve Days of Christmas with me!

The First Day

The Second Day

The Third Day

The Fourth Day

The Fifth Day

The Sixth Day

The Seventh Day

The Eighth Day

The Ninth Day

The Tenth Day

The Eleventh Day

The Twelfth Day

AndEpiphany too.

Saturday, January 23, 2021

News Trend Getaway|Actual

"What's it like up there? How's it feel up there?"

- The Music

As the rhythms of my holiday celebrations reverberate through the Twelve Days of Christmas, I find that I am sorely in need of a break.

And when my second-born suggested that we head up into the mountains to look for some snow, the perfect opportunity was presented.

Along with my fourth-born, we set of on a New Year's Eve afternoon getaway.

^ We cruised up Highway 2 toward Stevens Pass, a very familiar route, and decided to turn off on all the mysterious side roads that we have up till now ignored in our mad pursuit of the Pass.

Impetuously, we veered off the highway just before the tunnel, toward Money Creek Campground. The campground was firmly locked down for the winter but just beyond, we found golden sunlight, quiet lanes and friendly snow folk to greet us.

^  A few miles further east, we wandered around Skykomish. The closest incorportated area to Stevens Pass, I've always assumed Skykomish is nothing more than a gas station along the main road. Surprisingly, we found a viable little town there, with a library and a small grocery and plenty of well-stocked woodsheds.

If I had an extra hundred grand lying around, I would scoop up a little house there in a heartbeat.

^ Turning the car downhill as the afternoon shadows lengthened, we made time for one more adventure which turned out to be my favorite one of the day. Little Index, another blink-and-you-miss-it mountain town afforded showstopping views of nearby Mount Index, a fantastic old trestle bridge, and icicles to die for.

* * * * *

We watched the last sunset of 2015 as we rolled back into town. While much of the world was gearing up for the biggest party night of the year, my daughters and I leaned back into the quiet calm of a day spent exploring in snowy mountains.

We didn't need a party. We'd already had something much better.

A getaway.

This song is about a different kind of getaway - even more powerful and profound than mine.

* * * * *

Celebrate the Twelve Days of Christmas with me!

The First Day

The Second Day

The Third Day

The Fourth Day

The Fifth Day

The Sixth Day

The Seventh Day

The Eighth Day

The Ninth Day

The Tenth Day

The Eleventh Day

The Twelfth Day

AndEpiphany too.

Thursday, January 21, 2021

News Trend Turquoise And Orange|Actual

When I was a little girl, my home was decorated in mid-century terkini style.

Back then, my mom called it Danish design. We didn't think of ourselves as mid-centurions just yet.

Crisp white walls

Teak sofa and side chairs

Hairpin leg tables

Pole lamps

Philodendrons

And here and there against the clean Scandinavian aesthetic, splashes of turquoise and orange.

Even the front door was painted turquoise. My mom's brazen use of color set the neighbors' tongues a-waggin', and I'm sure they were mad jealous of her bold sense of style.

* * * * *

All these images and memories come flooding back to me whenever, like today, I see a composition of turquoise and orange.

A walk through the produce aisle turns into a stroll down memory lane, and that is a nice little surprise in my day.

News Trend Inspiring Impressionism|Actual

Hi, my name's Seattle Art Museum but you can call me SAM.

Dreams came true for me this week as I saw with my own eyes some of my favorite Impressionist paintings at the Seattle Art Museum.

As I strolled among the masterpieces and filled my soul with their sparkle and light, my mind traveled back through the decades to the year that I was seventeen.

That's when my senior-in-high-school self signed up for an art history group.

^ Certain artists and paintings generate an electric surge of excitement within me when I see them in person. This one by Degas on his beloved theme of horses was the first piece I saw and delivered quite a jolt.

^ Impressionism was an art movement concerned not so much with working out the precise details of a subject, but quickly capturing a general impression with bold, unblended brush strokes.

In those days, we called it art humanities, and at my school, this class was touted as the most challenging offering in the entire curriculum. Besides teaching us about frescoes, chiaroscuro and Op Art, Mrs. Rose considered it her privilege and fist-shaking duty to break down our high school hubris and invoke in us a terror for the rigors of college.

Little did she know that her class would teach me three interesting things far beyond the syllabus.

1. Maybe I was ready for the Big World after all.

Up until I took this group, when it came to academics, I was the kind of student who skated by on a sharp memory and a quick mind. With precious little effort, I had always been able to master my classes and bring home top grades.

And while that's a nice skill set, I was also well aware that college was likely to be a deeper pond in which I might not so successfully swim. What I learned from Mrs. Rose was that I was indeed capable of upping my game and meeting her lofty standards. Little did she know that instead of beating me down, her academic rigor gave me waves of confidence that swept me forward into college.

^ The idea of painting peasants at work in an orchard was a revolutionary and shocking idea in 19th century France. Go figure.

This one hung over my dorm room desk for four straight years.

^ Impressionist painters obsessed over the art of capturing reflected light on water.

I, for one, am glad for their obsessions.

2.  It's entirely possible to learn and have fun at the same time.

My shamelessly sassy and oh-so-smart friend, Jeff Miller, happened to attend the group with me. And I must say, we had a blast together. As we slogged through long afternoons of Madonna and Child slides in a darkened classroom, he would lean back over my desk and whisper improvised obrolan from the characters in the paintings. His impersonations of other, more serious students in our class were bang-on and snicker-inducing, And when Jeff was particularly feeling his oats, he would drop a pencil on the floor and while ducking down to pick it up, yell out our favorite nickname for our short and stout instructor; "Puaka!"

I know. Taken out of context, those antics sound janggal and adolescent. But there in the back of the classroom, our teenage selves would collapse into snorting giggles and find ourselves completely entertained with our outrageous wit.

Certainly, Mrs. Rose could sniff out troublemakers even in the dark, and she would retaliate by asking either Jeff or me a pointed question about whatever she had just said. Luckily, both of us had the ability to listen as we goofed off, and we compounded her anger with our flawless answers.

In the end, she gave us both As on our report cards. She had to. We killed every test and totally mastered her material. But she also gave us the lowest possible scores for our classroom behavior and contented herself with that punishment. I slow clap her to this very day for that frustrated and entirely futile comeback.

 ^ I've been lucky to see a handful of Van Goghs in my day, and they send shock waves through my soul. This old school work of Dutch tulip fields tells a more restrained color story than his later works, but I love it just the same.

This one also decorated my dorm rooms throughout my college career.

^ Up close, this is nothing but a mishmash of green lines and colored blobs. But take one step back, and the chaos transforms to a tranquil meadow in bloom.

3. Art is me.

During my childhood, like all children, I received endless messages, both mulut and nonverbal, about who I was and who I was not. In this way, my parents clearly informed me that I was a person of math and science, and perhaps music. But I was most definitely not an artist. Art, I gathered, did not run in our family, and my occasional requests to foray into that area were met with the message that I was not meant to live in the world of art.

But this art history group Alfred Sisley

Especially personal for me were the works of the Impressionists. I loved their landscapes, their still lifes and informal portraiture, their en plein air philosophy and game-changing focus on the beauty of the simple life. I carried that passion far beyond my high school classroom to this very day.

 ^ Impressionist painters typically used a color palette invoking fresh air, fresh flowers and fruits, and a fresh way of looking at the world. Rather than paint the table a single color, Cezanne opted to capture the many tones and hues created by the play of light across the wood.

^ Outdoor scenes often captured idyllic picnics in dappled shade. Painted hastily on easels, these compositions are perfect example of the Impressionists' preference for working out of doors.

These are the memories that danced through my mind as I wandered among the Degas and Pissarros, Monets and Renoirs. I am thankful, once again, for a strong-willed teacher whose determination to beat me down actually built me up in life-changing ways, inspired me to pursue a love of art, and made me very much the person I am today.

Thanks, Puaka!

^ Though the overall effect of this painting a bit dark and somber for a typical Impressionist work, the brush strokes in these oysters are classically loose and bold.

^ Just to be sure that we don't miss the Impressionists' vital sense of playful humor, consider this piece, entitled Mound of Butter.

* * * * *

The works shown are from the Intimate Impressionism exhibit:

The Races | Edgar Degas

George Moore in the Artist's Garden | Edouard Manet

Orchard in Bloom, Louveciennes | Camille Pissarro

Festival in the Harbor of Honfleur |Eugène Boudin

Flower Beds in Holland | Vincent Van Gogh

Meadow | Alfred Sisley

Still Life with Milk Jug and Fruit | Paul C ézanne

Table Set in a Garden | Pierre Bonnard

Oysters | Edouard Manet

Mound of Butter | Antoine Vollon

Tuesday, January 19, 2021

News Trend There Were Plenty Of Fish In These Seas|Actual

Our daily conversations are peppered with popular cliches:

Live authentically.

Tell it like it is.

Be all that you can be.

Today is the first day in the rest of your life.

While these sayings may contain some wisdom or at least a kernel of truth, I generally try to avoid them like the plague.

But after a lovely afternoon at the Seattle Aquarium last week, I was surprised to find that these old chestnuts were deliciously adequate to describe my visit.

* * * * *

Last Friday afternoon, my second- and fourth-born and I zoomed down from suburbia to our fair city's waterfront, where we ditched the car and strolled amidst a chaotic construction zone till we reached our destination.

^ Is that foggy horizon the spitting image of a January day in Seattle?

Yes. It is. We hustled out of the damp, drizzling rain and into the cozy warmth of the aquarium and came face to face first with this awesome sight

^ A massive saltwater aquarium full of native Puget Sound marine life, including a gigantic one-eyed rockfish and an underwater Seahawks football helmet. We strolled past the front glass at a moderate pace without taking much time to stop and stare.

Seen one silver fish, seen 'em all.

^ The next series of exhibits captured the variety and outrageous creativity of Pacific Northwest tide pool life.

Anemones, sea urchins, sea stars, mussels and other tempting specimens, all available for viewers to touch firsthand. And this was pretty cool, but honestly, we explore wild tide pools every summer during our camping trips to the Pacific coast.

So you know, been there, done that.

^ Following along a massive maze of rocky viewing areas, we were transported into an underwater landscape of coral reefs resplendent with tropical fish and sea life. Compared to our local species of gray, grayer and grayest, these flamboyant fishies were a breath of fresh air; we lingered especially long over the adorable little clown fish and the haunting white jellyfish.

We surely stopped to smell those roses.

* * * * *

At this point, the traffic flow directed us out of the main building and onto a covered pathway leading among a series of outdoor exhibits.And while I'm not going to complain too much, it's important to remember that we were stepping out into the chill of a rainy winter afternoon. Saturated from the beauty I'd witnessed inside, I wondered whether the remaining attractions could possibly live up to the adorableness we'd already seen in the comfort of the interior.

Little did I know that I was about to have my socks knocked off.

Outside live the marine mammals:

Northern fur seals.

Harbor seals.

And four of the most adorable sea otters you could possibly imagine.

And even on this damp and dreary day, they were forever in motion:

Swimming

Diving

Cavorting

Eating and

Playfully chasing each other round and round

For almost an hour, we stood and watched, immune to the shivering cold, transfixed by the joy and merriment of these adorable beasts.So caught up in the moment were we that our cameras remained in our pockets, our eyes riveted on the animals' antics.

We were like kids in a candy store, and hands down, these were our favorite moments of the trip.

As we hiked back to the car, I thought how my visit had grown exponentially more satisfying with each new attraction; the payoff of the last exhibits being infinitely more rewarding than the first.

And I realized that even though I had fully enjoyed the early sights of our visit, we had definitely saved the best for last.

P.S. If you didn't find it, the underwater Seahawks helmet is visible in the second photo from the top. Counting from the left, starting with the woman in red and her child in white, look between the fifth and sixth people. At the height of their heads, the deep blue helmet sits on a rock.

News Trend Priyanka And Me Again|Actual

On a day full of goods and bads, rights and wrongs, ups and downs, I found myself so spun around and flustered that I momentarily lost track of who I am and what I stand for.

Then, this little gem landed on my Facebook timeline.

And in an instant, I remembered.

Thank you, Nat, for posting the picture.

And thank you, Priyanka, for shining with a light so pure and true that everyone around you can see the truth.

Life is for loving, and that's that.

* * * * *

Read another story about my sunny little friend:

Priyanka And Me

* * * * *

And if you like, delve into the stories from all my adventures with the little princesses in India:

Under The Same Sun

Indian Princesses

Art Is Art

Puzzles

Primary Colors

A Meal To Remember

Do Hard Things

Rooftop Supper

Getting There

Trust Me, This Will Work

On The Balcony

At The Market

Content

Water And the Word

Sanctuary

Walks In The Sun

Playing With Sticks

Indian Sunset

Charminar: The Mosque And The Monument

Charminar: The Shops

Full Circle

Oh So Special

Together

Three Fantastical Deserts

Three Things About India

News Trend Vast And Beautiful Mysteries Of Life|Actual

Just moments ago, Ranger and I stomped in the front door on return from our daily walk, and we have quite an adventure to share.

We were late getting started today. I was out running errands until after five, so Ranger was more than ready to go when I returned. I dropped my groceries on the counter, changed my shoes, and off we went.

In other nature news from my house today, my amaryllis burst forth in bloom.

It's only fair to say that Ranger waited patiently for me. My fourth-born, who was napping on the couch with our boy while I was gone, did mention that at one point in the afternoon, Ranger got up, looked at her, and offered a lukewarm whine. She hushed him and he obediently lay back down. Then she checked the time. 4:31 p.M. Not bad.

Darkness was settling in as we crossed the foot bridge through the ravine behind the school and came upon my secret place.

Well, yes. My original plan was for this phenomenon to take place in time for Christmas. So like a month ago. But really. Who's counting.

Okay, so it's really not that secret. The foot bridge leads to an administrative outpost for the adjacent high school. Tucked into the woods, this rectangular, out-of-sight office building is surrounded by a paved lane that wraps around three sides - short, long short, and then leads back out to the main school campus. By late Friday afternoon, this secluded area is always deserted and quiet.

Today, Ranger and I hopped off the foot bridge, same as always, and began our journey around the back of the building.

As usual, Ranger was working the full extent of his fifty-foot lead, wandering back and forth across the lane, sniffing the landscaping around the secret building on our left, or the wild perimeter of the woods to our right.

I suddenly noticed two unfamiliar women up ahead, standing in the lane on the long side of the building, about ten paces ahead of us. They turned round to face us and spoke in greatly exaggerated but utterly undiscernable whispers.

I had no idea what they were trying to say.

Instinctively, I began to coil Ranger's rope, slowly increasing my control over him in an uncertain situation, and he hunted obliviously on.

As I moved a few steps closer, the women repeated their message and with a burst of adrenaline, I understood.

"There's an owl up here in the lawn."

Oh, good gracious.

In my book, there is no bad time for nature to burst forth in glory and knock my beauty-seeking socks off. This profound mystery took place before my very eyes today, and I'm grateful indeed.

For years, in the wee-est hours of the night, I've listened with my heart beating out of my chest to the majestic calls of an unseen owl in my back woods. But never have I seen one of these noble predators. And knowing how elusive these nocturnal hunters can be, it never even occurred to me to dream of seeing one.

The long, back length of the secret building is not lit, which was good news for the owl but bad news for us, as we strained our eyes to make him out. But one of my new companions noticed a movement.

"Oh, he just flew up into that tree!"

Turning this way and that, we strained to see the bird's silhouette as he perched in the branches of the fifteen-foot tree planted right up against the building, but I still couldn't make him out.

We quietly stepped along the dark lane, hoping to find an angle that would allow us to catch sight of him.

I think what I noticed first was the quiet shudder of the tree as the feathered beast pushed off against it.

What I saw sent chills over every inch of my body.

An enormous, ghostly white specter passed almost directly over our heads.

An utterly silent flap, flap of powerful wings swiftly propelled the bird over the lane and into the waiting woods.

And, expertly maneuvering its wings just so, the owl landed with speedy but soundless perfection on a tall tree branch, just beyond our line of sight.

My impromptu companions and I gasped with delight.

We stood for a long moment, reminding each other of what we had just seen, as if none of us could believe it herself.

Then we parted company, strangers no more.

Ranger, for his part, had not noticed a thing. And the owl had not seemed to care one bit about him.

We finished our walk, Ranger happily sniffing as usual, and me contemplating the vast and beautiful mysteries of life.

* * * * *

For more stories about my owl, read these:

Burung Hantu

The Third Time

This Powerful Gift

Monday, January 18, 2021

News Trend Burung Hantu|Actual

In the Malay language, the word "owl" is spoken asburung hantu.

Directly translated, the words mean, "ghost bird."

In this dimly-lit, late-afternoon photo of the secret building,

my owl's favorite tree is the one on the left.

I saw my owl again.

On our usual walk today, Ranger and I headed across the foot bridge toward the secret building where we saw him the first time, at pretty much the same hour of twilight..

We rounded the back corner of the building, and I strained my eyes in the falling light to see if I could make him out on the lawn where we found him on Friday.

Nope. No owl in sight.

Sigh. I've been hoping all week to encounter him again but you know what they say about lightning striking twice in the same place.

It rarely happens.

So I let Ranger continue to lead me around the curve of the lane, trying to be not disappointed.

Just to be sure, though, my eyes scanned the tree - actually three narrow trees, planted side by side by side against the back of the building - where the owl had alighted on our first meeting.

And there he was.

A pale shadow in the deepening darkness.

Just a few meters off the ground.

Utterly and perfectly motionless.

I gasped inwardly and stared.

While I could not make out his face - and he certainly gave me no hints - I am pretty sure that owl stared at me as I slowly and carefully tiptoed past his perch, my oblivious red dog trailing happily behind me.

When we cleared what I perceived to be his air space, I turned back to take another long look at my owl. Honestly, I was hoping against hope that he would fly again, moving swiftly and silently into the nearby woods.

But he didn't. He just sat stone till, enjoying, I presume, the emerging darkness that brings him fully to life.

And I couldn't help but think, as the Malay do, that my white owl looked just like a pale phantom in the night sky..

Burung hantu. Ghost bird.

The very idea sent delicious shivers down my spine.

And I hope very much that I will see my owl again soon.

* * * * *

For more stories about my owl, read these:

Vast and Beautiful Mysteries Of Life

The Third Time

This Powerful Gift

News Trend Simple Life|Actual

Lean,

Simple.

Pure.

This minimalist, mostly abstract work is everything that Impressionism - natural and fresh and filled with dappled light - is not.

Yet both styles of art sing to me.

And in both, I see the world.

Because both are bursting with life.

Watching people.

People watching people.

Watching cowboy Elvis.

Irregular orange rectangles

Stacked blue squares.

 I am seriously thinking about climbing them.

 Yellow fades to purple

Glass fractures light.

 Golden squares on squares.

 Geometry unleashed.

I never tire of contemplating this simple life.