The long distance runner...

Some of you might be surprised to know that of my two or three favorite teachers that I have ever had that they are not all history teachers.  In this group is an English professor who (finally) successfully nudged me through Freshman Comp, a class that I had failed through non-attendance.  Alan Jackson simply shook his head at the craziness of that, and said let's get you through this.  I learned many things in this class and from him, but most had little to do with writing papers.  He showed me the benefits of living a life of the mind, something I had never even imagined before.  Who knew people could make a living by teaching and writing and reading?  This was a novel idea to someone who was making a living schlumping three cameras and bag of lenses to 90 basketball games a year.

He also gave me the best advice ever for becoming a better writer.  He gently led the class to the realization that better writers simply read more.  And more and more.  For fun and for work and for whatever other reasons you could come up with.  Through seeing words in new (and better) combinations you would be able to write and put your own words in new and better combinations.  He also stressed that you became a better writer, not even a great writer, but a better writer, by writing. Just write more and often.  Maybe that is the genesis of this blog.  It's not to become a great writer but to become a better writer.  Bird by Bird, to quote another writing teacher, but you have to do it to get better.

To push me to become more and better, he pushed me to read things that I normally wouldn't read.  One such book was by Kingsley Amis called Lucky Jim.  It is what they call an "academic novel" not because of its prose but because of its setting on a  campus.  In it about how a new history prof discovers the pedantry and the pretentiousness of a middling college.  There are politics and palace (certainly a small "p" on that) intrigues and egos of tremendous size, and alcohol and other bad behaviors.  Of course, this was in the 1950s so it isn't relevant today, but it's a pretty good read.  Maybe because we all could and can still imagine it.   It did prepare me and give me a sense of humor and context when I was in the same position four decades and a continent away from Jim's life.

Professor Jackson also made/encouraged me to see a 1962 movie, The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner.  I have been thinking about this movie as I have begun my running.  In this stark and severe black and white movie, the reluctant hero becomes a runner to escape the harshness of a reform school.  Running provide an emotional and physical relief and escape from his life that was ruled by, well, rules and walls.  The movie is an action film in that it shows Colin running through fog and in the  undulating but always gray landscape of post-war England.  You hear his thoughts as he self-narrates and reflects as he runs.  Now,  he comes to a different and extremely self-sacrificing conclusion in his thoughts and as he runs, but still, it is one of the better running movies out there.

So what in the world does this have to do with me or today?  I have been thinking about what to think when running or fast walking or whatever I am doing.  Honestly, the worry of how to occupy my mind is what kept me from running in the past.  I kind of thought long distance running would be like driving to South Dakota, or worse, driving in South Dakota.  Would I begin to think of mildly subversive things like stopping before winning the race to make a point in the class struggle that we face in America today?  Probably not.  That was Colin's fight and I guess my life is simpler.

My tableau for running is a treadmill with a window (and TV) view, and that seems to be almost enough to occupy my mind.  I tried reading but basically almost killed myself trying to turn the electronic page on my IPad. I never was all that good at multi-tasking.  The other evening on my 4.5 mile run, I watched parts of four episodes of MASH.  Yep, those  medics are still crazy after all these years.  BJ is still missing Mill Valley, Hawkeye is still....well, you get the point.  I would watch a baseball game but right now they seem to last too long.  I watched the Vikings lose today, and the Cardinals start their next series, so sports might  possibly fill my time.

But what I really think of when I run is what to write about and well, nothing.  Tonight I ran (wait--I know what I do is not running--it is simply working out and walking fast) 6.2 miles in 90 minutes.  I know, barely a fast walk but a significant milestone for me.  That I even did that is pretty amazing--one friend told me this weekend that when he reads my blog and it is about running, he scrolls up and double checks to make sure that it is really my blog be is reading.  Since Thursday, I have devoured about 16 miles.  Hardly a marathon, but remember that three months ago it was about 1.6 miles per month.  I really really like it.  It is hard to be mad at someone or frustrated or be stymied by misunderstandings when you are really focusing on putting one foot in front of the other for a long period of time.  It lets me recall a book that I read or a movie I saw or a class I took 25 years ago and makes me not concentrate on other conundrum.  And while I am hardly the lean, Zen-like  long distance runner, at least I can tell the differences in me and they are good.

Is the loneliness of this part of me a good thing?  I think so.  I think I will keep at it, and I might even actually finish this race.

Last Batch

Here are the last of the trip photos.  In previous blogs I tried hard to lower expectations on what photos I might have discovered, and I think I that I quite lived up to those low expectations, thank you very much.  Again, most are self-explanatory.  The Bridge of Sighs is in Oxford (and Vienna, if you want to be really precise) and is a favorite place in Oxford.  The lion is on Trafalgar Square and has St Martin's in the Field in the back ground.  Plus, you are always supposed to take a lion photo on your trips.  There are a few shots of that big clock thing that everyone keeps talking about  and of  the London Eye. The busker is a bass player that I saw playing at several tube stops across London and as he traveled about on the tube.   The stair photos are of the 123 steps down to the Central Line at the Queensway Station--I often took them down, but only came up them twice.  The other stair photo is of the 55 steps up to my garret hotel room--I took them up and down often as there was no lift.  Good thing I have been working out (hey-4.5 slow miles in 60 minutes last night!) because they got to be hated stairs by the end of my stay.  The museum photos, taken illegally of course, show the museum as a classroom.  Can you imagine?  The high school-age girls looked bored as they took art appreciation in front of a wall of paintings by Van Gogh and had to only turn around to see four (4!) Monet's that most people would recognize.  Of course those were next to the Suret's and the Cezanne's and in the room next to the all the Turners and the  and the and the...  Nice classroom space, in my mind.  I was intrigued by the Weight Watcher's wine.  Not enough to buy it and try it, but it was interesting.

One explanation for fewer photos  (and no doubt of the quality of them ) was provided by a viewer, who noted that that perhaps my photos suffered because I was actually doing things, not stopping to take photos ever 20 seconds.  I went to the theater, museums, and all sorts of things.  I suppose that is true on some levels.  But since they had traveled with me, and had (apparently just) put up with that photo taking, that kind of stung.  Way to tell me what you really think!  I thought that I had done things before while taking more photos, but maybe I had missed some things because I was just looking through the viewfinder.  I will have to think about that.  I suppose it is about balance.

Second batch

Most are self-explanatory.  You should be able to tell the ones from Spain.  Two dogs--one is an "English" springer spaniel, and the other is just a pug on a train.  The beach scene with the umbrella shows the flat that I stayed at--it is in the center of the building and on the top floor.  My host reported that when she lived in Zimbabwe or Columbia or Mideast, hardly anyone visited her, but for some reason, she has had lots of visitors!  Love the signs from England--isn't everyone always looking for a way-out?  I also really wonder what authentic American food  would be?

First photos

Revisions and other things

There is a newspaper adage that addresses the question if any one reads what you write.  The sage editor remarks, "just make a mistake and to find out how many people read it!"

So the Monty Python quote that I referenced about not being quite dead yet.   I was correct but in context of the movie, it should have probably been a different quote.  Here it is, after Concorde gets shot:

Meanwhile, at a nearby stream, Sir Launcelot approaches. We hear horse's hooves 
in the distance. Sir Launcelot appears, behind Concorde, who is banging two 
coconut halves together to make the noise of a horse. 
 
Launcelot: Ho!  Well taken, Concorde! Steady there, 
         boy! 
          
Concorde: (as he falls) Message for you, sir.  (he falls) 
Launcelot: Concorde!!  (spying the arrow) A note!   "To whomever finds 
           this note. Help. I am being held prisoner by my father who wishes 
          me to marry *against my will*!! Please please please please rescue 
          me.  I am in the Tall Tower of Swamp Castle."   A quest! A 
          damsel in distress!  Oh, Concorde, noble Concorde, you shall not have 
          died in vain!   
Concorde: I'm not quite dead yet, sir! 
Launcelot: (a bit put off) Well...you shall not have been...mortally wounded 
         in vain!  
Concorde: I think I could pull through, sir. 

As for revisions, well being too pointed and self serving in a single post is too much.  My apologies.

I am on the plane heading back, and I will finish this recap of the trip.  I made it to Atlanta, minus a bag that they say is still in England.  My plane to MSP is late, but I don’t think that it will be late enough for the bag to catch up.  It will make it tomorrow sometime, or I guess Wednesday when they Fed-Ex it to me.  It is really just dirty clothes, so no biggie.  I don’t really have tons to say, but I have little vignettes of the trip.  None are worth a whole post but some are funny or perhaps at least interesting.



Yesterday when I got back to London I headed for what was the Olympic Park or the area where many of the events were.  Of course they were spread out over 145 square miles or so, but I got a feel for the scope.   All I can say is that while I wish I could have seen the Olympics here, I cannot imagine wanting to get around in London while all that was happening.  It must have been crazy.  Though I suppose that there are already a few million using the Tube each morning, so what could a few more hundred thousand do to the madhouse?



Now some might have pegged me for a geek but I did exercise my not so inner geek-ness by then visiting the British Museum on Sunday.  Wow.  I know, who else might be excited or happy about the Elgin Marbles or a display about money, or countless other exhibits?  It is the British version of the Smithsonian, but the Brits have been more places, and raped and plundered more continents than the Americans, so it is perhaps more interesting and esoteric than the “American” museum of history.  I was there for only three hours, but could have spent six or 10 or 20 hours and I would have never even begun to see it all.



Often on my trips I comment on the fashions that I see.  I am a practiced people watcher and while some think I never make the right observations, I do observe folks as they pass their days.  So, as per usual, I can say that what men think is fashionable is whatever I am not wearing.  Dark skinny jeans, and it looks like I am going to have to find another jean jacket.  And shirts with broad, spread out collars and wide solid color ties.  Silver seems to be a favorite.  All I know is that I will never wear dress pants cut that close, and it’s probably a good thing.



It is more difficult to tell what the trends are for women, probably because the city is so diverse.  In the business areas, there are a lot more pretty severe looking suits, a bit shorter but still mens’ suits with skirts.  All they need are ties.  In more informal areas, leggings are still big as are boots.  When I taught at Oxford  (that is fun to say) one of my students commented on the fact that British women all wore clothes one or two sizes too small, and that really does seem to be the case.  Plus the news this week is that Britons as a whole, but women especially are heavier than they have ever been—they have gained one whole dress size and a bra size (the tabloids had photos illustrating this) since 2005.  It took them six years to do this—the previous similar increase had taken them 22 years or a generation.  No wonder their clothes are too tight.  It is a similar situation or actually a little worse for the men, but I admit I didn’t look as close…



Another trend is that the Shades of Grey books are all of the rage, and they have spawned  a whole host of others—80 Shades of Yellow/Blue/Green/Burnt Seinna or whatever.  The one that made me laugh out loud was 50 Shades of Mr. Darcy.   Really.  When I was at the Camden Market, this fixation showed up in the stalls.  Lots of things that tied or tied you up. 



It has even made verb out of an adjective, and “shading” has made the list.  I read the newspapers every day, and one of the articles in the Evening Standard Mail Telegraph Mirror Sun Times or the like was for men on what to do when “shading” became an issue at your house.  After years of one thing, someone reads three books and now people want something different.  A lot different for that matter.    The advice was threefold—humor them (or humour them) and go along for how bad could it really be?  The second was take charge and don’t be a “milque toast” any more but be what you dreamed.  I can’t remember the third, but I suspect that it was don’t forget safe word and where you put the key.



I have to say that I was pretty disappointed about the changes in the pubs.  Admittedly I was not really off the beaten path, but I was out of the city-proper, and I was surprised at the effect consolidation has had on the pubs.  Most are owned by the large breweries, and they are increasingly generic.  Since my cholesterol is in the low 50s (really, it is) I didn’t worry about those full English breakfasts or the fish and chips, but I was disappointed  Twice the “fish” was machine cut cod, and was obviously frozen and just one step above fish sticks.  The bacon for breakfast was more than likely TRIMMED of fat for heaven’s sake, and the eggs at one place were promoted as free range organic eggs.  It all wasn’t awful, but a big change when pub food was the epitome of decadence.  Come on, who says “Healthy pub food, “ but it is coming.



I was a bit surprised by the impact of “the Crisis” as it is referred to over here.  I know I swiped at the topic the other day by noting that a scotch bar “only” had 225 varieties rather than the usual 300+ in other years.  If nothing else, all you have to do is see a newspaper and read the 72 pt-plus size headlines, especially in Spain.  But there were other ways to tell, too.  Vacant storefronts, lots of for sale signs on houses, and schemes and adverts for Quick Loan types of places.





So I do come back with my soul nourished and with a better frame of reference.  And with new experiences and stories.  And maybe, even a picture or two to share.  All in all, it was a good adventure.

Spain 3

It is 11PM and I am getting ready to call it a night.  It was a fantastic day today, and I can say that I am so happy that I made the extra effort to come to Spain.  It was so worth it.

Today was late, because last night was late.  We went to dinner, which started around 10 and we didn't get home til almost 2AM.  This time wasn't all spent eating--we spent a lot of the time drinking.  But the time spent eating was very well spent.  Remember all those kinds of fish I mentioned last post?  Well I ate  a bunch of them last night.  It was a sampler plate of sorts and for those of us who have the reference from the Admiral's Platter at Red Lobster, with shrimp and the Tilapia, well, it wasn't that.  Prefect cooked and lots of great flavors.  And at least 4-5 things that I have never ever seen before.  Fun.  While the night wasn't to excess, it was a whole lot more than I am used to.  So I did not feel bad when the day didn't start until 10.

I spent more than three hours hanging out on the beach.  I have always protested against beach vacations, but for the first time, I could see taking one.   It was totally relaxing.  I spent three hours looking for pretty rocks.  Tough to think about life's bigger issues/concerns whenyou are doing that.  I am sunburned and sore from bending down, but I loved it.

You know, I talked to a person once about opening a restaurant, and I think I have a new idea.  We ate at the best tapas place I could have imagined tonight. and I loved it.  I bet there were 50 different choices and more if you had dessert.  You chose and then they counted the sticks that held the pieces together to figure out your bill.  How fun would it be to sit in the kitchen and think of new little appetizer like things?  It was brilliant, and the food was delicious.  After dinner, we stopped at a scotch bar, a whiskey bar.  They had more than 225 varieties--before the crisis, the economic mess they are in, they had more than 300 different scotches, some that cost more than 100 Euros. So with a tapas like funky diner, I would have a whole bunch of scotch.  Any one want help choose the scotch and make up all the innovative dinner items?

I will have more, but that's it for now.  Tomorrow I will be back in England and then home.

Spain 2

I am just back from a day in the city, and had a great time.  The fact that I spent an hour or two on the beach didn't hurt my perception.  It was a beautiful day, nearly 32 degrees with a nice, moderating wind, so it was a great day to walk around.

The beach literally is right across the street from the apartment, and I walked about a mile on it on the way to the train station.  In jeans and my sensible shoes, mind you, but I still enjoyed it.  I found some great shells for my littlest friend, and two great pieces of sea glass.  I always like that, but it is different finding it your self, especially when it really does still smell like the sea whose surf is smashing 3-4 feat away.  It was fun looking for shells and the like--good for the hamstrings, but challenging.  Sea glass looks exactly like what a washed up jelly fish does--one doesn't (and shouldn't) make that mistake too many times.

The beach is an optional clothing beach, which makes me feel bad that I didn't bring my thong Speedo.  Or not.  But this place has a different population.  In my wanderings I probably saw about 25 people in various levels of undress.  Let me tell you that I wish I hadn't seen 23 of them.  The other two, well, they were a positive but I am not sure they wiped out the retinal damage caused by the others.    Let me remind you that this is a retirement community.  I hope I don't have to say more.

The train ride in was fine, and I didn't even get lost.  It is funny--the trains are the same ones in the Cities for their light rail, though I doubt that the Northstar line has a Zamfir flute player playing  Feelings with a drum accompaniment.  That was a bit unworldly.  The city, once I figured out the map, is a traditional international city.    It was nice but not exceptional.  They have a good city market, and it shows its heritage of a sea port.  One of the stalls had over 50(!) different kinds of fish.  Another had almost 30 different kinds of shell fish and mollusks of one sort or another.  But then again, they had one that just all the different kinds of organ meat.  Who knew?  And who knew that a she eps head was more expensive with the skin on?  That is why you travel, I guess, so you can learn these things.

We are going back into the city to eat now, and I will benefit from having a guide with experience.  Tomorrow is more beach time, and then into the city again. I leave very early for the less sunny climes of England, and then back to the States on Monday.

PS

I have received very few comments on my posts, which is fine and pretty much expected.  One that I did receive and which I just laughed about was from the Bureau De Change people.  In a post, I mentioned that Starbucks was now as common as these ubiquitous storefronts.  I am sure it was "bot" generated, but it said "Thank you for the mention of our franchises.  Please let us know if we can be of service to you in any way."  And then of course it had contact information in case I needed to talk to their PR person.

So someone/something is reading these posts!

Spain !

I am sitting here drinking coffee, watching the sun rise over the Mediterranean Ocean.  How is that for an opening line?  Truly a wonderful place so far, and I am glad that I made the trip.  If nothing else, the weather is a heck of a lot better than London!  It was a long trip here, with delays and transport challenges, but it is fantastic so far.  Last night was a night of catching up and oddly enough, drinking and eating.  Spanish cheese and meats and tomatoes that I suspect were not grown hydroponically.  I have to tell my friends that I do apparently like Spanish wine, but not the kind you get in Minnesota.

I am staying with an old friend, or rather, a friend who I have known for a long time.  While we have not seen each other but a few times since UWEC in the 1990s and at best talk via email a few times, if that,   per year, it is comfortable and fun to be here with her and her people.  She is working and I am catching up on work and notes while luxuriating in her top floor flat that really does look over the ocean.  Sea breezes indeed!

Now that the light is better, I am going to go walk along the ocean and then try and figure out how to get downtown.  This is not fair--while I might manage figuring out signs in Spanish, most signs here are in Catalonian, with different endings and spellings.  If you don't hear from me it is because I am lost and perhaps I might not want to be found!

London wrap up

I am just back from Phantom and it was phantastic.  I really enjoyed it--I went to several "events' while I was here, but this was the best.  I went to the newly restaged Les Mis, a big band concert, an organ concert at St Martins in the Fields, and a baroque concert at Oxford, but this was the most engaging.   It is one thing to hear a CD of the exact same thing but entirely another to see it staged so well.  It was fun, and I am glad I went.

I am almost cultured out.  I went to both the National Gallery and the National Portrait Gallery.  I went and saw a great show at the Tate on the Pre-Raphaelites, and very weird exhibits at the Tate Modern.  There is a big photo month going on, and as I wandered from place to place, I  tried to go to as many of these shows, small and large, as I could find.  I guess I am looking for inspiration or my muse, though they remain elusive.  Like I said, I am ALMOST cultured out.  I forget sometimes how much I like seeing things like this.  Once again, another reason why I probably travel alone...few would tolerate a trip like this.

I ate what I wanted, drank what I wanted and pretty much did what I wanted to do.  I think London is a comfort stop because I am so familiar with the city, even after all these years.  That is fun--I wasn't lost or stressed about getting anywhere.  The days were long, but good.

Now it is on to Spain.  I am far less certain about this part of the trip.  An adventure to be sure, but a bit scarier.  I will have different tales for sure.  And maybe in Spanish!

Wednesday

It is 10:30 and its already been an eventful and very expensive day.  First, I was very very neatly ripped off in a crowded Tube station on the wrong side of town.  You have to understand how I walk around with my my cameras--one is around my neck, and one hangs from one shoulder.  That camera has one of the new lenses I bought before I left, the $79.00 lens that was mis-labled at the pawn shop.  It was very crowded and in the scrum I felt a slight tug on my shoulder and then the crowd parted.  A little while later, I realized that the camera felt a bit light.  I looked down to discover the lens was gone.  I suppose it could have fallen off, but in the 35 years of using cameras with this type of lens mount, I have never had one fall off.  I suspect that someone intentionally pressed the lens release button and gave it a quarter turn and walked away in the crowd.  It would have been an easy move.

As mentioned, it wasn't that expensive, but it was more valuable.    And it is a pain.  I headed back to the hotel and drop off a lens-less camera and then I stopped at Starbucks for comfort and caffeine.  While sitting, and checking the news about Spain, the crowd jostled my table hard.  It spilled my drink, but more to the point, it knocked my other camera off the table onto the floor.  This was my good camera, one that costs more than I will ever be able afford again.  It fell and very neatly cracked the LCD on the back.  Or not so neatly.  The camera still works but it has the wrong colors and density and I think unless I tape it, it will keep cracking and fall apart.  I checked on the web, and replacing the screen on a 5D costs at least $600 if there is no other damage.  Now that hurts.  But the very nice German couple did buy me another drink, so I guess all is good.

It isn't that I really need any camera this trip, as photos have not exactly flowed into my vision.  Van Gogh said " At night, I dream of painting, and when awake, I paint my dreams."  I dream and think of photos and photographing things and people, but I am having a challenge taking them.  I could have taken photos that appear on a billion tourists' cameras, but I am avoiding that--it isn't even quoting but simply repeating and copying.  I am struggling for relevance and audience, real or imagined, and it is hampering my eye.  When the single biggest thoughts that strike you is "who would care, and how does it matter" it changes how you look at things.  This is not, I promise, directed at any single person or people in general who might look at this blog.  Right now, I just don't have anything to say that matters, visually at least.

That saddens me, and scares me a little--it isn't like I haven't tried and I can only think of one other time in life of photography when this has happened.   It also scares me a little because having nothing to say hasn't stopped me from sharing photos in the past!  As I am sure you have noticed...Come on Jason, another )*^!@$@$ sunflower?  Really.  It isn't, I guess, the fear of saying nothing, but my  resistance to saying nothing of significance to an empty hall.  Of course it doesn't stop this blathering on my blog, which obviously faces the same challenges.  It is easier right now, I guess.  The way I am going I won't have a working camera to take any photos with at all.  I suppose I could take my phone out and try that...

Oh well.  I will get over it.  Maybe when I get to Spain tomorrow, where the population is roiled by new and increasing austerity measures.  Protests, strikes, slowdowns, etc.  I wonder what I am getting into?  Maybe I will be able to just take photos of things happening like that.  Not much vision involved in that.

So to those of you who visit this to see rather than read, my apologies.  London looks like it does in a million tourist brochures.  I am seeing it all.  I am enjoying it all.  And maybe I will see something worth saying in the next few days.

Tuesday

It is a late start day for me, though I have been up for a quite awhile, but it was a sleepless night--it was loud, and my mind would not shut off.  Too many thoughts about things I can't control, can't negotiate, and ultimately don't really matter.  Or so I would guess.  Certainly, none of this matters from 3300 miles away from it all.  It isn't all bad stuff--some of it is absolutely wonderful, but most of it is complicated.  Oh well.

I had a funny story already.  I stopped at the local pub (for breakfast--relax, I am not that troubled) for a full English breakfast   This consists of an oil-basted fried egg, beans (the pork and beans kind of beans) grilled tomatoes and mushrooms, and bangers, a sausage of indeterminate meat and lots of grain fillers.  And bacon, in case you weren't already worried about the fat content.  Sounds bad, but actually it is better than it would possibly seem.  And it has an American connection and is very closely tied to WWII.  The beans were a commodity that the US shipped over by the freighter-full during and after the war.  Beans were cheap protein.  The grain filled sausage were a way to stretch meat during wartime and the rationing that lasted until the early 1950s--people just grew to like them, and you can go to a grocery and choose sausage with 40, 30, or 20% filler. Yah whatever.  The the story is that the waitress, who I hoped to be some English chippy because I love to hear the accents, was from St. Paul, and her dad is from St Cloud and when to Apollo etc.  So much for a nice Cockney accent to start the day--she sounded, well, she sounded like me!  She picked me out right away from when I ordered and asked me where in Minnesota I was from.  I don't have an accent, so I wonder how she did that?

Yesterday it rained and rained, not that I really noticed.  I was in museums all day and loved every minute of it.  Well, it was only for 7 hours, but it was a start.  I wonder why I travel alone?  Could it be no one else is geeky enough to put up with that?  That is part of it, I am sure.

I am sure some are wondering about pictures, and really, so am I.  I have taken some and dutifully carried them around, but have taken few of note.  Considering the hassles that posting them seems to cause, I haven't done this yet.  Maybe today--I have three or four that might make viewers smile and give readers a break from this verbiage.

I am off to Oxford--there is a concert there tonight that wouldn't mind seeing, so I might not head back till late.  But I will try and write a bit more tonight, too.  I am sure I will have a story or two.