Art Archives - Page 4 of 5 - Wandering North

Asia Indonesia Indonesia Trip 2017

Arrival in Yogyakarta

I arrived in Yogyakarta from Jakarta by plane. A train is possible, but i am somewhat short on time. The taxi from the airport revealed a bigger city than i was expecting but with the usual billboards and shops. They really do have all the worst stuff from the United States here, however, i suppose if you happen to be in Indonesia and have a hankering for KFC with cheese dipping sauce, a cronut, or a hot dog from the Circle K, you’re in luck. My favourite of the ads i saw on that drive was a billboard advertising a children’s Halloween party which promised “magic show” “games” and…”baby shark dance”. Huh? I have not been able to stop thinking about what a baby shark dance entails and every possibility is unsettling.

Anyway, i’m staying at the Malam 1001 Hotel (1001 nights) on a narrow alley near the end of Malioboro Street (a main thoroughfare of shops, food vendors, ojek [moto rickshaw], and bekak [bicycle rickshaw] drivers). My hotel has a nice leafy courtyard and i have a private room, so i’m quite comfortable though i haven’t seen another guest.

The first day i just had the afternoon and the main sites in town were closed early so i just went for a walk to get my bearings.

The area around my hotel has lots of restaurants and tour operators, gift shops and more batik shops than any any country could possibly support. Seriously, who is buying all this batik clothing and fabric? I don’t see people wearing it and i can’t imagine every tourist stocking up on enough batik tunics and dress shirts to keep these places in business. Plus, as far as i can tell, most of it isn’t real batik anyway…fauxtik. (That term should totally catch on.) the good news is i haven’t seen anything i would like to buy.

I walked, politely declining offers of rickshaw rides and thanking people for compliments on my tattoos, eyeing the street side food stalls and trying to determine if there is any vegetarian food.

I sat under a tree and watched people setting up for a carnival/night market which is to open later in the week. Chatted with a taxi driver. Smoked cigarillos.

Walked back to the hotel, stopped to check out a supermarket called “Hero” (Super Hero Market?). I’m always fascinated by foreign supermarkets and have been ever since i saw a box of Rice Krispies in a market in Israel on which Snap, Crackle, and Pop were muscular superheroes…though i have come to question that memory over time. Bought a fresh guava juice and gawked at people lined up for a block for a coffee/doughnut/burger joint.

Also, i checked out some of the street art in the narrow streets around my hotel, which ranged from cute to political, and watched children playing with chickens.

There seems to be quite a lot of public art here. Much of it i spotted from the taxi on the ride from the airport but happened on a few statues as i walked around.

Dinner of super spicy green beans with rice at a pleasant restaurant. $3.00 cdn including iced tea. A cigar in the courtyard. Bed. A fairly uneventful day, but a perfectly pleasant one. Plus i had a 4am pick up scheduled for the next morning for one of the highlights of the trip…Borobudur. (Separate post.)

Africa Burkina Faso Burkina Faso Trip 2016

Day 2 in Bobo Dioulasso

My second day in Bobo Dioulasso was a delight. I had a relaxing breakfast in the garden with my cigar and got some useful advice from Franka, the owner. I walked to a shop, on a lovely path through a garden / park and across a foot bridge over what at certain times of the year may be a small river, but is now a dusty canal that collects garbage.

The shop is one selling crafts all made by women and which supports women’s education and causes. For the first time on this trip i did a bit of shopping, which was fun. I chatted with the girl working there, en francais, and was amused by her big eyed reaction to learning my age. That is a theme here. I tell someone (when asked) how old i am and their eyes widen in shock. They all think i am a lot younger (merci) and 40 is quite old in a country where the lifespan is only about 50 in most parts.

I then visited L’Institute Française, which is an arts and cultural centre, with a gallery, classes, concerts and a cafe. I took in the sculptures, made mostly of refuse, and sat in the garden cafe.

This was quite a treat. The coming weekend was a festival of circus arts and there in the courtyard i got to watch a troop of acrobats from France performing in the trees, while a band of locals performed music. It was great. And i chatted with a Swiss woman and several local guys while having delicious ginger juice and bissap (a juice made from a type of hibiscus flower). I’m amazed i have not gotten sick yet.

After that, i declined three marriage proposals and then went for lunch, which was an event because i tried “to” (that should have an accent circonflexe). To is a paste made from sorghum, millet or corn, which is shaped into white balls. It is kind of like a gelatinous cream of wheat and looks like a breast implant. It is served with sauce and you break off chunks and dip it into the sauce. It’s ok. Tasteless. I had it with an okra sauce, which was pleasant and slippery.

In the evening i napped in the hammock at the hotel, went for another walk to get some dinner (rice and sauce) and smoked a cigar back at the hotel. Bobo Dioulasso has been so pleasant, i am hesitant to leave, but on to Banfora in the morning, where some nature adventures should await.

A few more random photos from Bobo…

Africa Burkina Faso Burkina Faso Trip 2016

Bobo-Dioulasso

I awoke at 4:30 this morning to catch a flight from Ouagadougou to Bobo-Dioulasso, or “Bobo” as it is called with affection. It is the second largest city in Burkina Faso and while it is definitely a city, it has a small town vibe and is entirely pleasant. I politely declined the friendly advances of airport security, piled into a taxi with 5 other people and their mountain of luggage and was delivered to my oasis of a hotel, the Villa Rose. It really is wonderful, comfortable, and surrounded by gardens and statues. As i sit here now, it is dark, with lights in the trees and a background din of squeaking bats.

Anyway, the hotel is owned by a lovely Dutch woman and her Burkinabe husband and they could not be more welcoming or helpful. I also chatted with another Dutch man who is here helping to establish a school.

Bobo is very manageable on foot. Many streets are the usual chaos of motor bikes, bicycles, cars, carts, and pedestrians all sharing the road, but it is tame compared to other places.

I first visited the market, which i liked a lot more than the one in “Ouaga” (as the cool kids call it). Fried caterpillars seems to be a popular item here, which makes me happy i am a vegetarian. I took more photos and received very little hassle from merchants. I find the women here a bit more outgoing than i am used to. They will actually say hello and chat a bit, which is nice. Usually i find when i leave a country almost all of my interactions have been with men.

After the market, i found the bus station and bought a ticket for the day after tomorrow to my next destination. Every successful transaction, especially in a foreign language feels like a victory. My delight amused the ticket seller.

From there i went to the mosque. It is probably the most famous building in Burkina Faso. It is in a style of architecture called Sunado-Sahaelian which has round peaks and sticks protruding all over the outside. This mosque dates from the late 1800s.

As i arrived the call to prayer was underway, so i waited outside until prayers ended snd then i was allowed to enter, which was a treat, as unmarried Burkinabe women are prohibited from entering, but apparently single foreigners are not.

From there i visited the old city, Dioulassoba. People live there and you can walk right into it, but foreigners must take a guide and pay a small fee, which makes sense, because the area is very poor and the guides can explain the history while keeping the looky loos under control. The area is all low, flat, mud buildings and is divided into quarters: Muslim, animist, musicians, and blacksmiths. I visited traditional houses and the place where animals (usually chickens) are ritualistically slaughtered. (The bigger your problem, the bigger the chicken or creature that must meet its fate, i was told.) we saw a blacksmiths studio, a weaver, a carver of masks, and the place where millet beer is made after bring boiled on a fire for three days. In the streets, people carried on with their days, drying corn, pounding farina, doing laundry.

We also went to the river that borders the village. It would be pretty but for the mounds of garbage tossed along the banks. In the river is a swarm of giant catfish. Hideous things, thrashing about in the shallow water. But these are sacred catfish. Almost magical catfish. (My reference to General Sherman from The Simpsons was lost on my guide.) People worship them and talk to them. Apparently, if you want to live in the village you must offer food to them and if the carps eat it, you can stay. If they do not, you are not pure of heart and must leave.

And that was my visit to the village. After that i returned to the hotel and have been enjoying dinner and the evening air. A great day. Tomorrow i shall endeavour to relax.

Central America / Caribbean Cuba

Our Woman in Havana

I was undecided about what to do with my final day in Havana. Obviously there would be walking, but i wanted some sort of loose destination. Musing over my morning cigar, i discovered that every Sunday afternoon there is an area with live rumba music. Good enough. Little did i then know that the destination would be even better than live music. I set off through Havana Vieja, past Parque Central, down Calle San Rafael for many blocks, until tourists thinned out and were replaced with local residents doing their daily activities. I tried not to be too obvious as i snapped photos.

I found my way to my destination – Callejon de Hamel – wondering where the live music would be and whether i would even be able to find it. It wasn’t hard. The short street, closed to cars, is lined, crammed, and towered by art. Graffiti, sculpture. Benches made from painted, repurposed bathtubs, courtyards filled with scrap metal totems, the sides of buildings covered with murals…even some art studios, open for visiting.

There were a couple of cafes/studios which were filled with an acceptable mix of locals and visitors. Most of the locals were afrocuban and spoke good English and were happy to tell me about this neighborhood, the artists, and the free programs for autistic and disabled children provided there. I had the local drink – a Negro (like a mojito but with basil instead of mint) – bought a couple of cds of rumba music and took in the sights.

At noon the bands started to play. All percussionists, singers, and dancers. All but one were women and they played the most infectious music. The crown pressed in and climbed up the sides of the buildings to get a prime view. I stayed until the rains started and then headed back to old Havana for an early dinner.

I did of course, stop off for a final cigar at the Partagas Factory VIP room.

What glory! Back in old Havana i found a restaurant that served pizza! Not the barely warm white bread covered with a whisper of sauce and tasteless white cheese that is ubiquitous in Havana, but actual crispy, chewy pizza with tasty sauce and four vegetables. It was great. I celebrated by having a glass of wine and pair of Ramon Allones robustos. I enjoyed a chat with a couple of local travellers from Germany and listened to some decent jazz from the band on the corner.

I have to say, the food has been better than i expected in Havana. Everyone told me that as a non-egg-eating vegetarian i would have nothing to eat, so i packed granola bars, almonds, and cranberries. True, there is not a great variety for vegetarians and the food is bland, but there is lots to eat.

When the evening came i went to the Hotel Inglaterra where, despite its gorgeous appearance has dismal service and drinks, i met with Stripes’ friend Rosalita. Rosalita had mentioned the other night some no-longer-in-production Limited Edition Cohibas she had a line on. Stripes was leaving but i agreed to meet up and get the coveted cigars. I felt like a drug buyer as a sat on the patio, trying to look casual as i stirred the sugar at the bottom of my watery mojito and eyed the crowd for Rosalita’s face, looking at my watch occasionally. The covert nature of the transaction was entirely necessary as Rosalita could spend years in prison for selling us the cigars, as could the person she bought them from. I smoked a comically large cigar, which did nothing to help the invisibility i was seeking. Finally she showed up, sat down, and ordered a beer. We chatted for a bit about tattoos and the availability of American music in Cuba before i asked, “Do you have the cigars?” She nodded and, just below table height, opened a satchel just enough for me to look in and take a deep whiff of the leathery, barn-yardy smelling cigars. I slid an envelope of money to her across the table. She passed me the satchel of cigars under the table. We finished our drinks, i declined a drive, and i made my final way home, finishing my cigar just as i put the key into the lock.

Havana has been a good trip. Not particularly different or exciting, but enjoyable and relaxing. The best part was the cigar culture and cigar experiences and having some friends there to share that with and to open doors to experiences that i would not otherwise have had. Oh, i decided to keep count of the cigars (not counting cigarillos) i smoked and coffees i drank – for no particular reason other than curiosity. 9 days, 31 coffees, 40 cigars. That adds up to a good trip.

Central America / Caribbean Cuba

Exploring Havana

Yesterday I opted to spend the day solo, leaving Stripes and Noodles to stay poolside at their hotel. I started out at the Plaza de Armas, which is my favorite plaza for coffee drinking and people watching. It is leafy, has several nice cafes and is perfect for looking out at the sellers of books, Cuban posters, and antique cameras and odds and ends.

After that i walked to a nearby Casa del Habano, which was lovely. I picked out an H Upmann Magnum 50 and sat inside, smoking and marveling at the vast selection of cigars.

From there I went on a walk along the sea and chatted with a fisherman before turning back into the city to look at the incredible number of 1950s American cars and street art.

I then went to the large Cuban modern art museum, which had 3 floors of mostly excellent modern art. A lot of great abstracts and political art, as well as a number of statues of Jesus being maimed and impaled by swords and communist sickles. (No photos allowed.)

From there I walked through an area devoid of tourists to La Epoca, a department store, where I went to the basement, which houses a supermarket. The shelves were pretty sparse and had little variety (other than rum, which was plentiful).

I then walked to this large arts and crafts market, which was a delight to look at, though there was nothing I wanted to buy.

I finished my wandering at the Plaza Vieja at a wonderful cafe that actually had a good vegan sandwich (a rare thing here). After that I went back to my casa to shower and get ready for the big Partagas festival opening dinner.

The Partagas dinner was at the Hotel National. I went there by taxi to meet Stripes and Noodles. Stripes, as it turned out, was quite sick and had to stay at his hotel, so it was just me and Noodles for the evening. The setting was lovely and the crowd was impeccably dressed – except for me. I tried to cover up the fact that I was wearing the same sweaty outfit by putting on earrings and lipstick. The attendees were from all over the world: North and South America, Africa, Europe, China, and Japan. We sat at a table with a group of men from Switzerland, which turned out to be perfect because they were very reserved. Other tables erupted into spontaneous salsa dancing and whatnot which would have made me feel quite out of place.

The food was mediocre, but the service perfect. We were given an array of limited edition cigars, endless wine and rum, and were greeted by various cigar dignitaries. There was also entertainment: colorful couples of salsa dancers and locally famous singers. We saw many familiar faces from our past few days in Havana, including El Jefe, who made the rounds, never missing a photo op. The whole thing went on for hours. I knew it was time to leave when around midnight a conga line broke out. Noodles and I had a final piña colada on the outdoor lookout, where the sea was lost to darkness but the stars were exquisite.

North America USA

The Broad

Today started by taking the Metrolink from Burbank to Union Station.

Once downtown, i skipped Olivera Street this time to grab some sushi in Little Tokyo. I then had a cigar at the 2nd Street cigar lounge where i had a lovely chat with a boxing manager/promoter about our shared love of international travel. After that i headed to The Broad.

The Broad is a new (opened last month) modern art museum downtown showcasing the private collection of a local billionaire/art collector who is now sharing his amazing collection of post-war modern art in an incredible building. (Take note, billionaires who are inexplicably reading this blog: this is a worthwhile use of your otherwise unjustifiable wealth.)

It is like a pared down NY MOCA, sans the Pollacks. A fantastic collection of Beuys, Twombly, Cindy Sherman, Jasper Johns, Koons (not my favourite, but fun to look at), Murakami, Wharhol, Lichtenstein, Damien Hirst, and more. And terrific customer service. The staff are more than happy to talk with you about the art.

It delights me not only to see the art, but to overhear the reactions of people. A lot of “i could paint this” and “i don’t get it”. But at least they’re there.

England Ethiopia Trip 2015 Europe United Kingdom

No Place Like London

When I was booking my flight to Ethiopia, i chose the one with the longest possible layover, which was through London. I had about 10 hours. Not a leisurely visit, but more than enough for a good afternoon.

I lived in London briefly from 1994-95 and loved it, but have not been back since. The idea of being back there was exciting and actually being there was awesome. In some small way i was able to tap into the excitement of young me arriving in London for the first time. I couldn’t stop smiling and i just wanted to walk around and see everything.

Of course though, i didn’t have time for everything, so i planned a strategic walk past some key sights and old haunts. I took the train to Westminster and caught a glimpse of Big Ben and Westminster Abbey, before walking up to Trafalgar Square.

I was struck by how lovely everything was and how thoroughly British everything is. Almost to the point of cliché. The architecture, monuments, flags, black cabs, red phone booths and double decker buses, chip shops, mind the gap, and every wonderful variation on the British accent you could imagine. Delightful. Trafalgar Square was teeming with people, but the inside of St Martin-in-the-Fields was serene.

The streets were busier than i remembered and there seemed to be more advertising and you can’t smoke everywhere anymore, but all of the stuff i cared about was the same. I wandered in all of the squares and parks i passed, enjoying the flowers and sculptures and meandered through the streets, enjoying the bustle.

Then, I turned down a street and was met with the Dunhill shop. For those of you who don’t smoke, it is a famous tobacconist shop. I went in and it was beautiful and I suddenly became very conscious of the fact that i looked very shabby. I apologized for my attire and immediately began prattling on about cigars and Dunhill and the man working there – with a posh accent and nattily dressed in fine tweeds – could not have been nicer. I picked a Partagas from the walk-in humidor and settled into the lounge, for a smoke and espresso.

The only other guys there were two very handsome and super fancy looking young men, smoking Cohiba Behikes and playing cards, immaculately dressed. We chatted a bit and then i was on my way and discovered that there are in fact 3 more cigars stores on that block. If i hadn’t had a plane to catch i would have spent all day there, but instead i walked past Buckingham Palace, through Piccadilly Circus, the theatre district, Leicester Square, Soho, and Chinatown, before ending at Covent Garden. I didn’t really do anything; i just walked and took everything in. Finally it was time to head back to the Airport.

Europe Italy

A Day in Firenze

Our first full day in Florence is complete and we have now seen all of the sights on my list and we have wandered leisurely down countless streets, each more picturesque than the last.

After blogging last night we ate at a tiny and inviting Moroccan restaurant. It took Betty-Lou three full days to decide that she does not care much for Italian food. There seems to be a paucity of fresh vegetables on the menu, she ordered eggplant at one point and it came smothered in cheese. The Moroccan food was a welcome change.

Today we hit the streets and sights that we missed yesterday. We visited the Church of Santa Croce, where Michelangelo, Galilleo, and Machiavelli are buried, amongst others. We went to the Church of Santa Novella which houses some excellent renaissance art, we walked the stalls of the central market and dodged the friendly vendors. There is an impressive array of leather goods here for sale, as well as beautiful stationery, and an endless array of Pinocchio bric a brac. It is odd; i do not often think of Pinocchio, but when i did i always thought he was German…something about his little shorts and bavarian looking hat. Anyway, he is Italian and his likeness is everywhere.

We did do a bit of shopping and enjoyed coffees at some exquisite cafes on various piazza. Note to readers: if you order an espresso at even the finest cafe it will not cost you more than about 1e50, if you drink it standing at the counter that is. If you want to sit at a table, that espresso jumps to 4 or 5 e, as i discovered. In some cafes though the extra cost is worth it just to soak in the atmosphere.

So today was mostly wandering, and it was lovely. We just had a brief rest in our hotel room from which we can hear the most marvelous din of the square around the Duomo – it is all a hum with the voices of people and regular, jarringly beautiful church bells.

Now we are out for a glass of wine or a snack and cigar before bed. Tomorrow we shall take the train to Pisa and possibly beyond, time permitting.

Arrivederci.
PS It is a great challenge to come up with titles for blog posts and avoid the plethora of cliches that fill the mind. Rejected titles so far: Mambo Italiano, The Light in the Piazza, and La Dolce Vita. I gave in to Betty-Lou on ‘Under the Tuscan Sun’.

Asia Uzbekistan

Uzbekistan Photos

Some pictures I omitted from earlier Uzbekistan posts.

North America USA

Christmas in New York

Greetings from New York! I have never blogged about New York before because I wouldn’t know where to begin or end and a post on a website seems inadequate to capture the many charms of this city. I would need a novel or an opera. Christmas in New York, however, is a moment in time capable and worthy of description.

I am pleased to report that there was snow on Christmas Eve; not falling from the sky, but piled up along sidewalks and balanced on top of mail boxes. I arrived to find a pleasant nip of winter in the air – the sort of brisk chill that is invigorating and fresh, worthy of mittens, not balaclavas.

I set out on my search for Christmas splendor in Union Square where the annual Christmas market was in full swing, with artists and jewelers and craftspeople selling their wares from red and white stalls decorated with pine tree garlands. I didn’t buy anything, but I spend about an hour strolling around. I had a pleasant chat with the world’s greatest sock puppet portrait artist, Marty, of whom I am a great fan and then I enjoyed a small cigar as I walked onward in the winter sunshine.

Later I found myself in Times Square, having decided to pick up my theatre tickets ahead of time. Times Square looks the same at Christmas as it does at every other time of year, but it feels Christmassy nevertheless. After all both Times Square and Christmas are all about colored, blinking lights and insatiable consumerism. I collected my tickets for my upcoming shows (Billy Eliot, Hair, and A Little Night Music) and meandered over to 5th and 42nd to have a cigar at Nat Sherman.

The fellows at Nat’s welcomed me warmly and I enjoyed a 75th Anniversary non-Cuban Montecristo Robusto in their Johnson Club Lounge, where I chatted about the injustice of the anti-smoking regulations with some local guys. The cigar lacked complexity, but it was fairly strong, well-constructed and tasty.

After my cigar, I dashed over the Grand Central to have a cocktail with my friend Dave. Grand Central Station was buzzing with Christmas travelers boarding trains with bouquets of flowers, giant wreathes, bottles of wine and shiny, wrapped presents. We sat at one of the bars, overlooking the station and taking in the light show on the ceiling, which was cool in a 1970s sort of way. Eventually we boarded one of the trains north to Chappaqua for Christmas dinner with friends (sadly, not the Clintons).

On Christmas day I was insistent that we take in all of the typical Christmas sights. We took the subway to Columbus Circle and walked along the south border of Central Park to 5th Avenue; as we approached, you could actually feel the Christmas spirit intensify. The streets were overflowing with people (almost all tourists) gawking at the impressive decorations and waiting in line for horse-drawn carriage rides.

The decorations on 5th Avenue are impressive. Every building is tarted up with lights and elaborate displays. The window displays at Bergdorf’s were amazing; each window is a self-contained world of magic. They had sort of an Alice in Wonderland Theme – not especially Christmasy, but very cool. The Cartier building is wrapped in a massive red ribbon and bow made entirely of glittering scarlet lights.

As I said, 5th Avenue was thick with tourists, which meant that is was also crawling with those wanting to profit from them. There were about a half-dozen guys on every block selling fake designer purses, watches and sunglasses. There were stalls selling souvenirs and winter accessories food vendors selling pretzels and knishes and then there was my favorite: the three card monte guys and the guys who play that game with the three cups and the ball. It is fascinating to watch these guys, because they always draw a small crowd of interested onlookers, planning to profit from what seems like an easy game. My favorite part is watching the one plant in the crowd – the guy who bets $40, $60, $100 and always makes a profit by picking the right card or cup. Of course this guy is in on the con. Quickly others in the crowd, inspired by the easy with which the plant is winning his money, start placing bets with less success. For me, the entertainment is free.

I crossed the street and went to the Saint Patrick’s Cathedral, which was filled with the pious and the curious. The music was beautiful, but the crowds were a bit too much to bear, so I did not stay too long.

Finally, the Mecca of New York Christmas cheer: Rockefeller Centre. The centre is decorated with illuminated snowflakes, angels blowing gilded trumpets, towering toy soldiers and, of course, the massive Christmas tree. It is all very lovely. I had hoped to go ice-skating, but as with my previous trip to Christmas New York, the line is ridiculously long. If you have your heart set on skating at the Rockefeller rink, I recommend getting there as soon as it opens.

On the streets surrounding Rockefeller centre are dozens of people dressed up as Santa, Sponge Bob, Dora the Explorer, Hello Kitty, the Grinch, et cetera. For a dollar you can have your picture taken with them. I think these people are just entrepreneurs who rent costumes and take to the streets in the hope of making a buck. Not a bad idea, really. I saw one child staring up with utter bafflement at group of costumed characters composed of two Elmos and two Cookie Monsters. The poor kid must have thought he was seeing double.

Boxing Day was a day of theatre. I saw “Hair”, which was joyous. Every member of the cast had an amazing voice. The best part was at the end when they sang “Let the Sun Shine In”, they invited people to join them on the stage to dance and sing along. I bolted down from the mezzanine and clapped and sang and danced on the stage with all of the hippies. It was awesome. In the evening, I saw a performance of “A Little Night Music”, starring Angela Lansbury and Catherine Zeta-Jones. It was a wonderful production and I loved it. In between the two shows I enjoyed a cigar at Nat Sherman’s where I also attempted to dry out from the unrelenting rain outside.

Today I plan to go to the MOMA and the rest of the day is a mystery. The snow and rain are both gone, the sun is shining, and my flight is not until 9:45pm, so almost anything is possible. It is the 27th and there are still the faintest wisps of Christmas still in the air.

Tag: Art