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

Yellow snow on the San Francisco Peaks

The Snow Bowl Ski Resort on the San Francisco Peaks near Flagstaff, Arizona didn’t have enough snow a few winters in a row. They decided, and it was approved by the municipal council, to turn the sewage effluent into snow. They sell 1,5 million  gallons of waste water per day. The environmental impact assessment pointed out several problems: scaring of the landscape, noise from the snow making machine, the changes in the soils’ chemistry and thus the destruction of wildlife habitat. The area concerned is one where herbalists, Native American healers from several nations as far away as the Zuni from New Mexico. The area is used for finding medicinal herbs, is part of a pilgrimage and is the home of the Hopi Katsinam. Sacred land should not be soiled, defiled. Declarations by elders and healers in court and massive protest by environmentalist and Sierra Club hasn’t helped. Gathering herbs is sacred,it is also a service to the members of one’s community. Sadly all bad things came to pass and the snow made from the waste water to their 'astonishment' turned yellow. Virginia Tech indicated that the snow from the sewage could be a breading ground for antibiotic-resistant genes. So what ever you do, don’t get into making a snowman or a snow angel in the wider area around the ski resort...

Emden, an East-Frisian harbor

Being on the road and in Zwolle for the presentation of  Verbrande schepen by Paul Gellings on the Cultuurboot, it seemed a good idea to swing by Emden. My maternal grand uncle hauled  from there. Every morning he used to drink  Ostfrisischer Thee. A special mix, black and strong, they would let a child drink. So finally, I had my first, extremely delicious cup of East Frisian tea.

He also used to sing 'Where the seagull scream'...
Now I realize he was probably homesick for his pretty, friendly town. Old firetrucks on show and ships moored right in the middle of town, good food: what more does a tourist want. Shops are open on Sunday afternoons so even then you can get some tea to take home.

The flight back

The flight back was as it should be uneventful. I was fascinated by the clouds. International travel becomes harder and harder, control upon control, not always in a friendly way. Random check of hands, random check of bags...

Yet traversing the continent is interesting.

 




The snow in Nevada, the ripples of mountains further East and in the plains one could actually see the flooding. And then the glorious sunset from my window again. it is hard not  really knowing where is home. Home is where the heart is, I guess.

Frienship's crossing

The water, the bay, wind in your hair, a shawl is advisable, is a quiet time on the way to see an old friend in Sausolito. Friendship requires crossings, letters, phone calls but always a hug, a touch will erase the time of distance.

The rewards are manifold, the Golden Gate Bridge in a quiet fog, lifting above the tide.

Alcatraz, where a few students stay for a couple of months to repair the salt eroded steps,where tourists flock to to see the place of the movie or the occupation by AIM in 1969.

Here the Sausolito Bay where my friend grew up, and the hills with her father's house. She grew up a wild child without mother and became a strong and independent spirit. Friends try to let one grow and become the best one can be.

Goodbyes are hard, the distance to bridge is vast and friendship is priceless.

Like beauty friendship is its own reward.

The Last Post in Doel

Doel is a small village in the harbor of Antwerp that has to be flattened so that some of the 100 largest Maersk ships can dock here. How many towns have to disappear for these ships? How many people's lives are uprooted and in turmoil. The same happened in Ruigoord, near Amsterdam. At least the town is still standing and it has been turned into an art enclave, where artists work, people visit but where it is forbidden to live. The Ruigoorders have opened an embassy in Doel as a token of support. As far as I am concerned lets close the nuclear plant in Doel and let the people live in Doel. The last post at the last action.

Romantic Parks

The park, part of the romantic park of the composer Puccini, is well kept. You'll find the large meadows, closed in or off by sweeps of trees. There are over 200 kinds of trees here and in a grouping there will usually be a red one to create more drama. The picture is of the lesser lake.



Wide spaces, water, statues and buildings are typical ingredients of this type of garden. The upright lion had been stolen and was replaced by a sleeping lion. This might represent the loss of influence of feudal patrilinear families.
The Fortezza is a Gothic building. The buxus is a later addition.



This small temple was dedicated to Tomaso Puccini. You recognize the temple as dedicated to Venus because of the pineapple on the top of the cupola. The beauty is stunning, the quiet of high quality. Every breath is nature, nurture and culture. History lives in these parks. And for those who can still read their environment it is a great teaching aid.

Walk to work

This morning in this water city I walked early to work and was carried by the stream of people and kids. In the flotsam I wondered whether to change my route, following the kids following the piper. But then I spied 'Occas' Livres' on my regular path: a secondhand bookshop. Closed at that time of day yet magnetic. I saw, thus will have to return to find it open: a nice edition of Les Feur du Mal by Baudelaire and a Boulgakov novel I haven't read. That is a translation, but since I don't read russian I don't care in what other language it is. Most russian authors I have read in italian. Then I saw swans in love, gliding on the river while behind me the trafic roared. They seemed so effortless and it was hard to keep up with them walking along the shore. There was rain, there was wind and also the breath of an old woman passing...

The new camp

Here life is squeaky clean. The Rom gypsies are healthier, their feet are dry, the kids have a table and light and can do their homework.



There are house searches at night between 2 and 3. The kids wake up, are scared and cranky.



When asked whether they were happy the women acknowledged their better conditions but said they were like 'birds in a cage'. At midnight the gate is closed, if they need to go out early the have to ring and will be let out.



Cameras are every where. What is the balance between clean and free?

Water is life and danger

Water in the middle of a high plateau in the desert shows you the miracle of life. Suddenly a mallard is shied up in the dessert, the gurgle and trickle of water gives reeds and grasses a chance and soothes the mind.
So we find a place for meditation and healing.
But never forget the destructing, reshaping force
of the flash floods in the canyon. At Havasupai campsites were washed away and everybody had to be lifted out of the canyon because part of trail up had been washed away and the water reached the village...

Antelope Canyon

I come away from this magical place with a sense that water might be the most powerful architect on earth.

I saw canyons and this slot canyon, I s saw monuments and upside down mountains.




I saw beauty: I admire and respect.

Colors at work

Did you know white containers contain perishables? White reflects the sun and keeps the containers cool. They do, so why don't we paint all the houses white in the desert?











Why do they make certain tools red, turquoise, blue, black and yellow...
I really don't know... Maybe it is part of the working conditions of the best dockers in the world so that they can keep a colorful outlook on life in view of the automatisation that decimates jobs. A few years ago there were still 140.000 dockers, today on this harbor only 70.000 found a hard but well paid job.

Wind in your hair

Once in a while i just need a bit of wind in my hair, airing out my brain, chasing the cobwebs.





What can be nicer then than check out other people's tools. Cranes, fixed , automatic or movable. Bridges that open and the amazingly beautiful technical works, like a big clock.








The mysteries of chemical industry have a strange appeal. The space, masses of water, the wide gray, rainy expanse, so near the town defines what a port is, a city on a stream and many docks.