Travels with Doggy Dog

Traveling with a small dog entails quite a lot of things. There are specific times that need to be respected for when vaccinations must be given. There are also things that must be done in the last three days before the trip like filling out the health certificate for the pooch. The weight of Doggy must be right otherwise she cannot be with us in the cabin.
This time a a colleague from PEN-Flanders will be traveling with me. Of course it is always possible that life has some surprises in store. For instance our friend Nigerian poet friend Tade Ipadeola won't be able to come and visit us. Sad, we wanted to discuss his poetry, talk through some of the problems with the translation and also how to proceed after the proofreading we will be doing when at our destination. Of course we also will meet up with friends, make long walks in the desert, look at the murals and petroglyph's beauty and try once again to decipher their meaning. The particular once near the village are Hualapai and some old Hualapai still kind of know how to interpret them. The weather will still be nice, so longer trips are being planned. A lot of Nature and added to the mix also some Culture. I particularly look forward to my friends I have had to miss so long.
All of you: Sunday night late I should be home with my guest. Brace yourself for Monday morning: I need a lot of hugs.
When returning to Europe we'll stop in New York to bring the books "Over the backs of Salmon" in the Dutch translation "Over Ruggen van Zalmen" to Sherman Alexie's publisher and friend Robert Hershon. Exiting times await us.

Chicago to Santa Cruz - the ocean

After a long hard day with three flights for which I had a boarding card were canceled which was only the beginning of a a quite chaotic situation: 2000 flights were canceled in Chacago O'hare because someone poured fuel on the computers in the control tower and then tried to stab himself to death. 60.000 people got stranded and finding a room when traveling with a pet is in normal times hard enough... Departing was done as 20 years ago with commands by the control  tower, no fancy assistance by computers.Any way I was picked up the next day on San Francisco by Irene and she was so thoughtful that she took the coastal road, so I saw and heard the surf, enjoyed the light and the landscape and felt a lot better

 What awaited me was a warm nest, a cozy home and beautiful coastal city. I could live there. ee I saw a seal, heard a sea lion and we walked the beach with all the dogs enjoying the outing. I am grateful that Doggy Dog traveled so well without barking or anything. This morning we went to see the 2.200 Years old redwood grove... But more of that later... I am grateful that all the passengers finally made it to their destination and I give thanks for good friends...

Leaving Las Vegas

Las Vegas

tumbleweed

small and large

stuck in a chain link fence

around a plot of

emptiness

brown and green glass

reflection

William Carlos Williams

thanks for taking

a walking

connection

Leaving Chloride

Leaving
to go to the other life
one has
brings melancholy
Saying goodbyes.
Hoping to meet again.
Closing up.
Switching off.
Gratitude.
Feeling the sun
going to winter
There too friends
I hope to meet again.
There too a full life.
Yet leaving here
leaves bewildering
loss in my soul
confusion
delusion
there is no way back
if it
it is what I cannot
say
intone
describe
just trying to tell

Time for the Colorado river

No power
packing water coffee bait
long drive
Pierce Ferry roiling rapids
no camping no fishing
no parking no fires
no rangers
sleeping without a moon
under the stars
in sandstorm wind











It's all about leaving
running out of time
not knowing
was it dream time or
think time yet
fear of frailty
longing for water
and
the fluidity of joy
the adventure
the call of the
wild one
the one I was
I am

Flagstaf and Route 66

With a friend
in a silver spiffy car
cruising route 66
Kingman Hackberry
Truxton
where the apple pie was
when the two old ladies were
Peach Springs of the Hualapai
Seligman where I got breakfast
a couple of times
ate black eyed peas
on New Year's day in 1995
oh those icy roads
and now new to me Route 66
looping to Ashfork
stretches of walls in red lava rock
and the spacey silence
which will forever last                                      
then I 40 weaving to Williams
to Flag
old buildings old hippies
old books & new thoughts
and time in slower flow
autumn light
in peaceful glow

I met Jack in the Starrlight
and howling Allen
Collins and Simic
and De Bello Gallico printed by Plantin
in 1570 in Antwerp
where so soon I must return...

Sunrise in the desert

It has almost been a week since I am home again in the desert. The last guest left the place in total disequilibrium but three days later my place almost looks like I like it to look. Thus I walk in the morning, watch the changing of the light as the sun climbs up from behind the mountains and changes the world. My friends seem truly glad to have me back for a while and seamlessly I am reintegrated into the small community. So one buys too many goodies at the all town yard sale: delicious sinfully rich pecan squares, light upside down pineapple cake and moist scrumptious banana bread... It was good that unexpected guests showed up so that I could share. The desert holds its own secrets, its special charm: from the tracks in the sand to the tiniest lizard darting away and gratefully I heard the coyotes yesterday afternoon. Now I know I am home again. Till now I saw: Gamble quail, a doe and her young one probably from this spring, jack rabbits and rabbits. I spoke with the cactus wren and saw 18 buzzards sail over Silver Hill. All the friendly dogs got petted and like a fool in honor of my friend Cese I danced alone in the local restaurant bar... Cese this one is for you.

PEN International Congress in Iceland

It was a long trip to Iceland yesterday and changing time zones is always a bit weird. We got there safe and sound. First impression: Reykjavik looks like a playhouse town for little girls: clean, fresh, pastel tints... Really pleasant  even in the drizzle. The harbor isn't far away from the Villa, a basic but pleasant kind of Bed without Breakfast. Being hungry upon arrival last night since we got no food one can call food on the long flight, we had a nice stroll from place to place to find a kitchen that was still open. We saw a party, heard life music, happened on a Jazz Café and ate at a Moroccan place, the only one open and very good. The owner, an interesting smart man, had come to Iceland seven years ago and told us that Spanish people now come to Iceland and ask to work for him.  Europe is in a sad state of affairs. It was a tiring day, but in ways it also was a splendid day. Soon the PEN meetings will start. Good morning all of you.

What I learned in Africa II

Two years after my first African experience I was send on a mission to Uganda. Nobody wanted to go, since during the gulf war the planes flew over the country. At least that was rumored among the colleagues. Anyway we were well protected, a machine gun armed soldier stood every 10 meters along the road from the hotel to the conference center and we were warned not to wander off. In the yard of the presidential palace there were vultures. I wondered about that and found out that Idi Amin used to torture wayward students and if they died the body was thrown in the yard to be eaten by the vultures. It was many years later, but the vultures still haunted the place and considered it their territory. As happens a bunch of us was free one afternoon. So we skipped lunch rented a taxi with four colleagues and took off to what was a National park in the making. There we met up with some people guarding cattle with riffles. I asked why they were armed. They spoke about armed thieves and poachers and such. A few weeks later in April from Uganda armed groups entered Rwanda participating in the 100 mad days when 1.000.000 people were killed. I realize how naive we were. On the way back to Kampala we ran into road blocks, had to buy illegal gas, saw eyes in the darkness of the forests. One of my friends asked: are you not afraid?  And there in the taxi I wrote the following poem:

Headlights light

up life

of those i can never know

in the deepest dark

i ever saw

Roadblocks everywhere

Accident

Police

Checkpoint

Stop control

am i afraid

i am afraid

i am not

the shepherds are armed here

nomads

just as i

(the road from Lake Mburo to Kampala-11PM)

1991 spring 

Of course during the week I managed to wander off: once to the market and once to a local bookshop where I bought some books by local poets . What I learned was that I was not afraid and took a new turn in my life.

Some essential stuff I learned in Africa I

My daughter and her husband are in Congo. Thus I started thinking about the missions to Africa I was lucky enough to do for my job. And I have realized a long time ago that each time I learned a valuable life lesson. My first trip was to Togo. In the hotel lobby I bought a map of the city. And walking I tried to find my way but got terribly confused. And suddenly I saw that there were no street names on the map. I ask about that in the shop. The young man replied: Well, every time there is a revolution they change the names of the streets. So we decided to just print the map without the names. So if ever a local would need a map, they would recognize the lay out of the city and know where to go. They would have a far better mental map. Another thing happened: I had decided on a free afternoon to take the 'taxi de brousse' and check out the next town Anexo. It was a nice clean van for about 15 people. There was a double row and a single row of chairs. I sat down in the single row behind an elderly, well groomed gentleman. Behind me two young man were discussing, almost getting into an argument. They spoke the local language but also parts in French. Suddenly one yells to the other "Mais vous, vous êtes un raciste!" (You, you are a racist!). The old gentleman turns towards me and says delicately: "On ne parle pas de vous Madame." (They are not speaking about you, Misses.) To think about the feelings of a perfect stranger and to put her at ease was a great gift for all the following Missions I did. I never was afraid and trusted in the general goodness of mankind. Well we took off to Anexo, I visited the local market and bought two simple but really pretty clay bowls., I heard the town cryer and happened on a fight. I kept my distance, didn't join the people watching. And then the long wait, darkness descending rapidly and not at all being sure I was at the right place to wait. The taxi came, well it was a pick up truck, loaded with women with chickens, with big bag of homemade soap, with a young man of the American peace corps. They all squeezed a bit more together and I was taken on board... Wonderful first experiences.

Museums

There are several museums I really like: among others the Louisiana in Copenhagen, the Guggenheim in Venice, the Centre George Pompidou in Paris and the Muhka and also the Royal Museum of Fine Art both in Antwerp. What these museums have in common is the beauty of their collections and the light, airy space. Some modern and some stately, the perfect space for the Brueghel's and Rubens' collections. In the museum boijmans van beuningen is the current exhibition is called 'The Road to Van Eyck'. I like the exhibition: the few original Van Eyck paintings, his magnificent book of hours, the 'cheap' fast work made for export to the south was sometimes cartoon like, yet sought after in his time and now, and the funny painting of a lady with her lover and husband, whose glasses she had taken away so he wouldn't notice. However the museum itself and the way of presenting was not optimal. The floor and walls in the same dust gray, the lighting scarce, the lettering (with interesting texts) hard to read. It felt stuffy, with closed in spaces where people couldn't circulate freely. Yet it was a good outing with dear friends, catching up on sharing and talking. Oh yes, people in Holland are taller than in Belgium, so in the bathroom you'll have to adjust to a rather tall toilet bowl.

Familiarity

I know A. since she was 11 and I was 12. Being very bright she had been schooled a year early, so we ended up in the same secondary school class, both having chosen Latin and Greek. She remembers whom and how I was in the difficult years of puberty and the fear of a stepfather. I remember her 'normal', yet strict family. We followed each other's lives and marital turbulences. We knew about each other's jobs, crushed longings, unfulfilled expectations and moments of joy and happiness. We are friends, even if I fall often short on being there for A. when she needs it. She knows that I know and thus we get together every so often to exchange, to tell about the latest episode of our lives's road. She is ebullient and talkative, I am a good listener. While listening I recognize old patterns, habits, griefs, resulting for me in a sense of peace stemming from familiarity. The normality of our encounters is also the glue that keeps us in each other's life. She is adventurous and does volunteer work in the field of alternative cultural events. She is brave, yet needs a structure which grants her her freedom without making her feel lonely or isolated. 

I once wrote a poem for her:

Ach A,

Ik wilde komen

maar voor ik zo vertrekken

moet naar nieuwe straten

ander licht en vreemde bedden

koester ik mij in stilte

het alleen zijn thuis

en vergeet dan

dat om 11 uur

zondag de wereld

nog bestaat

Ik wilde komen

maar nu bij koffie

wachtend op de pendelbus

is het te laat.

*

Oh A,

I wanted to come

but just before I have to leave

for new streets

different light and strange beds

I cherish my silence

being home alone
and forget
that at 11 o'clock
on Sunday the world
still exists

I wanted to come
but now with coffee
waiting for shuttle bus
it is too late

(on the road to Strasburg, France)

'Brugge', city of water from the middle ages

Brugge and the 'Reien', the canals through Brugge are a real attraction.  My last visit to Brugge was with wonderful Rose Van de Walle for the presentation of Annie Reniers' 'Grasschriftuur'. Years ago.

 So it was a pleasure once again in good company to rediscover the charms of this old city. It rained on and off, so it wasn't as if  we were just walking through a film set for a period film. Brugge is not a city in decay.
 Official buildings, the town hall where Napoleon visited and which now houses a Museum and also private buildings and churches are well kept. The town is a tourist trap and in certain periods can be a bit overrun. It is sad that the main shopping area has exactly the same shops as in other European main streets. But in Brugge the lace is still hand made and pretty. The food is generally good and the atmosphere relaxed

 There is however also a modern part pf Brugge with a concert hall with a great sound and this pleasant sculpting. And old ladies up for a conversation, proud of their town.

So a good time was had by all.

Sightseeing in Belgium

 When a friend visits you in a place she has never been, what do you show? My friend having worries, I decided to show her my favorite chapel: it is where the working girls would go to confession and there always is a nice quite and peaceful atmosphere. It is an beautiful baroque chapel, dedicated to Mary and St Antony. As you can tell many do light a candle to lighten their load, adding to the warmth and meditative ambiente.

Then we walked and visited many enclosed city gardens and small squares and even the botanical garden, smack in the middle of town. The whole city is  also filled with hundred of Madonnas.

 And yes, Antwerp is a playful city as one can tell by the the lion.

My Italian friend visited because of a European swimming competition. Her son won two gold medals and a bronze one. The Italian team won the relay swimming.

Occupy in Utrecht The Netherlands and Kingman, Arizona

During a trip to Utrecht we talked to the people from Occupy Utrecht. Well organized, fun and committed.Lots of music and fun, but also discussions and planning for the next events was the fare of the day. 

 But then there is also Kingman, in extremely republican Arizona. The 99% supporters gather each Saturday at the train in the Park along the historic Route 66.


Here the group was rather small on the hot Saturday morning, yet it was a pleasant crowd talking about topical issues and the upcoming presidential elections. So On Sundays they have a peace vigil on a different location and on Wednesdays they have a gathering to suppport women's reproductive rights which are under thread because of republican inititatives.
A lot of work needs to be done, the grass roots in America are waking up and growing. We are the 99% working for better futures.

Vulcan greetings..

Here Mark giving the vulcan salute... It is a hello and a good bye blessing.
So here I leave the USA for a while and dive back into the other languages of my life. This man has invented, constructed three different languages for far away planets.

I just reinvent poetry in an other language. So if ever you come acros an alien and have communication troubles, call Mark!

And yes: prosper and live long!

Sunrise at the Ohio

Sunrise, just behind Patriot on the scenic byway along the Ohio, is a quaint small rather artsy town. The majestic Mississippi boat which never arrived in Madison because of the fog was discovered here.

Houses and streets are well kept and decorated. It looks neat, like for culturally minded baby boomers. But alas, here too the economic crises is all too visible: The national bank of Sunrise is up for sale.

Old man river: The Mississippi

Rivers, each different in mood, in speed. The greenish steel bridges however are similar or even the same. The martins are building their nest on the underside of the bridge so big swarms flock around bringing new life.
The river with its highs and lows carries driftwood, or floods the land, killing some trees while depositing good topsoil.

 The river itself runs muddy and dark, maybe that is why I feel the atmosphere is darker and broodier than along the Ohio, which seems to stream faster.

Bridges for crossings and new horizons are beautiful symbols and real objects from another dimension, belonging to land, water and air.

Route 66-III

The buildings are about energy in a strange way. Providing gas, shade, sustenance.

People must have had big dreams with grand designs to match. So they built plywood castles sold by Mr. Barocchio.  And of course an ice machine was part of the luxuries of life. Across the street mail boxes. I wonder where these people live who do receive mail.

Then wonderful honey yet at 23 dollars for a big pot rather expensive: but the taste of the woodland honey is sublime. The surprises of the road...
So the drive to Kingman with a taste of honey ready for sweet dreams ends here.

 From the glamor of Hollywood to the Old Historic Route 66. At first still maintained but then fallen to the wayside.


Present Past and Future is the slogan of Route 66...

 The Best Western in Bartsow with a view of the trucks going by on the I 40. Imagine the joy of a road all to oneself... In Ludlow there is a new coffee shop, its fate uncertain.

House -garage - gas station -
Ludlow café -
all derelict
publictés fanées
faded billboards
fallen by the wayside

a good life
with a real house across
at the east direction
nobody took
all went west

and needed shelter
repairs
gas
sustenance
courage for the crossing
but NO CHECKS CASHED


neither is anybody responsible
for fire or theft
of ones dreams
on Route 66.
How long before new Ludlow resembles the old
before the desert has taken back its space
before a new generation builds
a fresh watering hole for the thirsty and weary