Blackberries and Bicycles

We have traveling by way of so many different modes during this journey around the world: plane, train, tram, bus, funicular, ferry, big rig, rickshaw, tuk-tuk, bicycle, and of course, our own weary feet. But after a rather extravagant week spent in Bretagne, France, we can add rental car to the list. 

Oh, I had forgotten the delights of independence you can find when behind the wheel of your very own car. The power to choose winding scenic roads instead of highways, the joy of a quick u-turn to more closely examine that old, ivy-covered stone chateau, the happiness felt in propping bare feet up on the dash in the bright sunlight streaming through the window, and the luxury of pulling over to stretch/explore/pick roadside blackberries whenever the need arises.

We looked for hitchhikers to pick up.

none.

We navigated a drive from Moncontour to Paris without a road map.

not entirely true. we had a tourist map of bretagne. when we left moncontour after we arrived in normandy we stopped at a supermarket and took photos of the sections of road map we might need. I squinted at these to determine our path.

We talked about places we've been and things we've seen and people we remember.

in bretagne we saw family for the first time in seven months; this sparked lots of conversation the multitude of dear family and friends that we wonder about and look forward to seeing.

I skimmed through radio stations.

the soothing babble of french talk radio was a favorite, followed by "nostalgia" with both french and american classics.

We didn't pay a single toll.

although the drive was eight hours longer, the distance and gas usage was the same. we never took the toll roads and enjoyed the slow country lanes instead, found much cheaper gas further from the interstate, and saw a huge chunk of France.

After visiting the Chartres Cathedral we car camped.

turning down a bumpy, dirt road in the pitch dark left us slightly unsure of exactly where we were. but the stars were bright and the night quiet. we awoke to find ourselves alongside a cornfield, mist rising from the earth in the pre-sunrise glow of dawn.

I was a pretty good navigator and N drove.

that being said, my tiny keychain compass proved to be faulty, I started feeling carsick from trying to read the map from a miniscule digital camera screen, and we both were hyperventilating as we navigated Paris with a photo-copied, blurry map and minutes ticking down for our British Airways flight. we returned the car at terminal 2F and our flight was at 2A. they are not very close together.  I was fibbing my way through an elaborate story about my invisible husband as the flight was being closed...N showed up just as the eyebrows of the ticket agent were about to pop off of her head.

In recent months I have become a huge proponent of public transportation, but I'd sorta forgotten why personal cars are so great. The independence. The power to "choose your own adventure." It is so easy to slip back into the mindset of regarding personal cars as the main (and most viable) mode of transportation. And of course, sometimes they are. My mother couldn't exactly find public transportation to Eugene (40 miles) four days a week. The New Orleans public transportation system includes lovely street cars that oftentimes take longer than walking, and public buses that don't seem to run on an actual schedule, they just rumble by when the mood strikes.

When in a land of functional, efficient, effective public transportation options, it is much easier (and oftentimes much more affordable) to use public systems. We love the bike sharing systems of Paris, London, China, and many other international cities. In fact, it seems that most urban cities of the Western world have bike-share/rent programs. Africa, Thailand, India, and Turkey were without a formalized system, but most likely have informal, community-driven programs that are not discernible to the foreign eye. 

So while we are here, still in the land of viable transportation options, we are off to use them! Though the hazy dream of that cushy Citroen rental car still lingers at the back of my mind, it's time for some sensible shoes and some London tube action!

*****

p.s. we are still sans-computer. no help has arrived. but we are SO grateful to David for the use of his computer while we are in london. be assured that our blog will be patchy until we return to our other laptop in the states (new york in twelve days).

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The Westernized Blues

The last few weeks, I’ve had the blues. Whirlwind traveling has certainly been a contributor, as has this sickness/allergy that just won’t quit.

Here in the lovely home of dear friends, we are surrounded by old mossy garden terraces, fig trees, lilac bushes, creeping ivy, and endless meadows of lavender. The place where we are staying is on the road to the Bibémus quarry where Cézanne became fixated on the warm afternoon light that glances off of the angular cliffs of the mountain Sainte-Victoire. It’s paradise and my blues have dissipated, a distance of a few days from bruise-hued thoughts allows me to reflect on the cause.

I realize that my blues are caused by the angst and discomfort of culture shock.

I know, it’s laughable. Here we are in Provence, with grocery stores and crusty baguettes and a culture that is so similar to one that we both were raised within and around.

Culture Shock.

N and I talked had about the concept, but in a lighthearted way. We meandered through the markets of Ghana, laughing about how weird it would be to be back in the Western world. We anticipated that the shift would occur when we arrived in Italia. We considered and planned for some of the basic changes as we traveled through Turkey and the Balkans: the cost of raisins and bananas would increase, internet would become more accessible, hitchhiking would be a more mainstream traveling possibility, the euro was shifting marginally, and our efforts to lessen plastic use might become more difficult. But, it turns out that I was completely unprepared, that I had absolutely forgotten about so many of the things that define our Western world. They are aspects of a Westernized life that usually feel quite ordinary and normal and expected. But after a five month break, these ordinary and normal things feel strange and disconcerting and sometimes just plain wrong.

Last week, after much preparation (thanks for your help E!), we sent a package of fun things home from Venice. We scored a cardboard box from a delightful storeowner in Valvasone, and had the package ready to go as soon as we disembarked from the train. But when we arrived at the post office, we were told that our box was no good: images of olives were visible on the outside and this was ‘not permissible.’ Oh jeez, give me a break! We really have to go buy brown tape for 4 euros and cover up all of the pictures of olives? Hello Western world, I forgot how obsessed with bureaucracy and red (err…brown) tape you are!

We took the fancy ferry from Bandirma to Istanbul a few weeks ago, and the only seats available were located in the business class section. Not quite our style, but we jumped aboard. Business class was essentially identical to the standard class tickets; the only difference seemed to be that the ticket price (or perhaps just unspoken societal mandates) eliminated the riff-raff. Instead of normal people who smile and make conversation, careful families walked their children around the second floor business class ferry section, the children treated as pets kept leashed to a human hand, and picked up at regular intervals. The people sitting at our table were vaguely horrified when we pulled out our slightly stinky salami, bread, and cheese to make sandwiches. They silently slurped on their coca-colas and absentmindedly picked at the fancy tiramisu from the ferry café. Such a far cry from the laid-back scenes of children in Africa: proud of their responsibilities in taking care of younger siblings, making games of seed pods fallen from a tree, and exhibiting confidence in their independence.

Now that we are back in the Western world, everywhere we go we are pressured to buy, buy, buy. At first, we struggled. We found it hard to resist: “it’s just one euro! Why not?” That is a cute little bag of spices, and that lip gloss does sound tasty. But when I think back to our weeks in India, I remember that the same items were available, but for a tenth of the price. Yet, in India, I didn’t have an urge to possess, to purchase. Why is this? The answers are commercialism, consumerism, marketing. A strong and successful industry has been built upon these tactics and strategies; they are a true art, one of manipulation, deceit, and creative talent.

So much in this Westernized world has to do with who or what you want to become, rather than who or what you already are. Most every product for sale advertises change: change in your body, change in your hair, change in your income, change in your penis size, change in your mood, change in your health, change in your level of attraction, change in your income, change in your economic status, change in your weight. But the change all directs you towards the mainstream, towards the same current than everyone is swept into.

We are back in the land where women are body conscious, where advertisements are inundated with magical cures for cellulite, large pores, flab, under-eye circles, and parts of the body that fall victim to gravity. Gone are the round, strong, cherished bodies of women that exude heath and wellness. Enter the waif, but she is wearing these hideous balloon/arabian-style pants that look like a diaper. Sometimes I wonder if mainstream fashion is truly created to make women feel worse about themselves!

Now, in Aix, France, billboards around the town advertise lacy thong underwear, modeled on computer-generated female figures. No skin is that smooth, that unblemished, that perfect; commercialism has come a long way since the days of airbrushing, now the models are just computer composites. Lancome would like you think otherwise, but there isn’t a chance in the world that the $50 face cream is going to make you look like the girl in the commercial.

Perspective gained from traveling is such a gift and can be so life-changing. But what happens when you can’t go back to the way things are, when you realize that you have changed and the ordinary isn’t ordinary any longer? What if you don’t want it to be?

I guess that I will re-assimilate, I just hope that I don’t forget the joys I found in a non-Western World.

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New Ideas and Debate on Public Art: Reflections on Legal & Illegal Art Europe

I did not know it, that Europe would be the most graffitied place I had ever been. It is too much!

It is everywhere. Sometimes it is a masterpiece of enormous proportions; or, maybe it is a tiny image, politically understated yet provocative, hidden among graffiti tags on a slender alley's wall. Other times, it is debatable whether there is anything 'artistic' at all; if what you are seeing is plain ignorance; a teenage angst brought to life; or, the worst we have seen, desiccation of another, much more historically important or beautiful piece of art.

We have seen thousand year old ruins and statues spray painted. We have seen beautiful modern art sculptures covered with globs of paint or wax or worse.

So we continue a debate - what is Public Art: What is damage?; What is political?; What is juvenile?

In the Balkans, in Italy, and in France the lines of officialdom begin to blur.

Art is so useful here, so expressive, so 'cutting edge' and/or deconstructive. But, one has to ask - where would a modern open-minded society dare to put restraints on production, placement, or culpability of displaying public art?

Reticently, we have had a debate about how to use better, more temporary public art displays as environmental art. Our debate centers both in the sense of art display and in terms of its social and environmental impacts.

We are seeing some types of art, especially grafitti, causingdamage, social stress, and reinforcement of negative values. How can this negative become a positive, we ask ourselves? After seeing so much damage and vandalism to property by 'artists' we were happy to find that some artists were looking for compromise and solutions. One art exhibit in particular really seemed very well thought out in Marseilles.

In this exhibit, a photography group has produced large paper prints of two separate expositions. The first group of photographs takes up the concepts of spirituality and public spiritual displays in India. This was a terrific exhibit which stretched over several blocks in the historic foothills surrounding the Vieux Port area.

The second exhibit was apparently produced by either the same photography exhibition group or very kindredly inspired artistic spirits. This exhibit collects recent and historic photographs from the neighborhood where it is exhibited.

What impressed us and drew te fire together for our debate on producing meaningful, and harmless art in the form of intentionally temporary exhibits.

What are some of the benefits of producing temporary public art exhibits?

Our debate about basic questions concerning placement, quality, temporality, and nature of Public Art is one that we give more thought to now than before we reached Europe. The Who, What, When, Where, Why, and How - of whether art and its display in public space should continue to exist is, to us, now unquestionable. That more art on public display produces more thought, insight, debate, camaraderie, and a more sociable urban aesthetic is, to us, obvious.


But... are there ways for all 'public' art artists to improve their art. Can it be made more green? Can we put moral or critical restraints on ourselves in order to not offend or to reach different audiences? Are some lines too important not to be crossed? How do we distinguish between art and vandalism? How can art collectives strengthen social fabric and explanation of art?

In temporary photography exhibits we see in Europe (and those described above in France) there is specificity.

Here, we found in two exhibitions a melding of Marseillaise social history, of green arts technologies and recycling, of bridge-building, of mosaic collage, of spirituality, of international ambassadorship, of much to make neighborhoods and cities humane. These were progressive, thoughtful, for everyone.

Art can be fun. It can be interactive. It is something which we can identify with, be critical of, and be proud of (sometimes, all of these we can find at one and the same time)...

Public art is a tradition as old as humanity. Let's support it!

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Welcome to our world...can't wait to see yours!

In November, 2009, we embark on a service tour of the world. We will combine our honeymoon with a year of service, lending our skills, enthusiasm, talents, and passions to the places and people we visit.

Our current world tour includes China (specifically Changsha), India, Africa, and a brief stay in Europe. We look forward to experiencing new ideas and cultures, and connecting with family, and both old and new friends.

“There are no foreign lands. It is the traveler only who is foreign.” - Robert Louis Stevenson

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