trail of tears

Traveling through western Illinois and Iowa almost drove me to tears, seeing the glorification of one right wing icon after another. Sights include Ronald Reagan's boyhood home (thankfully closed yesterday), right off the Ronald Reagan Trail; Ronald Reagan's birthplace; Herbert Hoover's birthplace; and John Wayne's birthplace (don't miss out on the 100th anniversary celebration there this Memorial Day weekend).

It makes me wish my sister and I did drive the 90 miles to the Mother Jones Memorial in southern Illinois last week!

the perks of global warming

The thermometer nearly hit 80 in Chicago the other day, making it warmer than even southern California, which I'm sure delights that smug bastard Dennis Miller but hopefully rankles that other smug bastard James Inhofe.

It made the visit to Chicago quite pleasant to an outsider like me, though Greg and Belinda's kids complained about the heat during our visit to the Lincoln Park Zoo. I'm sure the heat only made the pig smells worse, as Lily here can attest (clarification: Lily is not one of Greg and Bee's kids, but is the daughter of their friend Joel, whom we met in Lincoln part Sunday morning).

I finally got to wear shorts Monday, when Scott and I played some disc golf. We played at an actual small ball golf course, which was a first for me. The baskets were near the putting greens at each hole. On the plus side, we got to play on a well manicured (albeit muddy) course. On the downside we had to pay to play, and also support an industry that generally isn't known for its eco-weenieness, er, eco-friendliness.

That was followed up by beers in the Pontiac Bar's outside beer garden area that reminded me of Zeitgeist, only without the fence.

This last shot was taken with an apocalypto filter (TM pending). OK, not really, I actually shot through the window of Scott's friends' apartment, right next to the El (it wasn't as loud as you'd think, since the windows overlook a station, so the trains come in and leave slowly). But I think the haze gives you a better feel for the unseasonably warm and sticky weather we had.

i'm getting too old for this shit

A couple of weeks ago I lost an earring, one of the silver hoops I wear in my right ear. This piercing has been giving me trouble lately. During the winter, that hole got infected, and a lot of tea tree oil and Neosporin did the trick and cleaned me up. So maybe there's an underlying message I'm missing.

Fast forward to New York City, and apparently I lost the earring while putting on or taking off my hat. Fast forward a little more, and I keep forgetting to buy a new earring. Until I get to Decatur, that is.

I find the only tattoo and piercing place in town, thinking I can find an earring there. In the shop, when asked what I want, I say an earring for my ear. The response is "What gauge?" Turns out they only have jewelry for body piercings. Their selection is limited to a bunch of silver hoops of various gauges, but they're all the same style, with the ball covering the connector. It's not what I'm looking for so I'm steered to a place called The Shop, which turns out to be a head shop.

Back in my day, men used to buy their earrings at these fine establishments. I drag my sister there, ask for a hoop for my ear and the owner replies, "What gauge?" It's the same deal -- they have stuff for piercings anything *but* your ear! This woman then steers me to the mall.

Even at the mall, my choices were limited to "fine" jewelry stores, a small number of tiny, crappy hoops, or stuff for your nose, navel or nethers. Like I said earlier, I don't think I've got it in me to do anything extreme; I think it's a bit beyond me at this point in time.

buddy

Fearing further persecution by the border cops, I took my leave of Buffalo/Fort Erie and headed to Decatur, IL, where my sister Anne and my brother in law Andy live.

Last year they adopted a miniature long-haired dachshund whom they named Buddy, who shouldn't be confused with the other Buddy. His fighting weight is a portly 9 pounds, which makes him smaller than both of his cat friends at home, but that doesn't stop him from harassing the cats.

Here he is with his proud parents. Some of you may recognize the pride bandanna he's wearing. It used to belong to my dog Paddington, but he hasn't worn it in years. Buddy has pretty much the same amount of fanciness, only in smaller package, so I guess that makes him fancier, pound for pound. But not this fancy (I hope).

And damn if he doesn't give Paddington a run for the money is the cuteness department. (Why, yes, I'm biased and am deliberately trying to skew the results by posting a picture of the monkey when he was a little pup.)

across the border

So I took my chances and crossed the border twice. OK, so it was into Canada, but regardless, those border patrol agents can be surly and combative. And those are just the Canadian guards. The US guards take paranoia and suspicion to pretty high levels. There's a sense of instant antagonism more pronounced than with the police. Good thing I didn't spend 88 dollars (not so) lite for that bottle of absinthe.

I spent my first two nights in Buffalo, and the last in Fort Erie, Ontario. Lake Erie was largely frozen, other than the shipping lane. Large chunks of ice were piled onto the shoreline from various thaws and breaks. Ed pointed out the spot where he broke through the week before.

st patty's day

I figured since I blew off Mardi Gras in New Orleans (leaving a day early), I should come to Boston for St Patrick's Day. In retrospect, I have to say it was one of the more interesting adventures on my trip so far.

It all started off innocently enough. Stouts and tasty jambalaya at Petra and Eliot's apartment. Then about 10 of us took the T downtown, and the fun started. All the Irish bars in the area had lines of people waiting outside in freezing temperatures to pay upwards of $40 to walk inside and proceed to pay more money for drinks (the picture at left shows us debating the merits of collectively spending $400 to walk into a bar). We opted to find a different bar, the Living Room, which is more of a stock-broker type place that seemed to play as much (read: none) Irish music as we heard from the Irish bars downtown, only it was much less crowded and (arguably) more enjoyable.

The bar closed at 1; we left to catch a taxi. We walked all over the area trying to find one, without any luck. So, rather than walk 45 minutes in the cold, we opted to hide out, Lee-Harvey-Oswald-like, in a nearby theatre. A couple employees hassled us a little bit, and initially let us stay after we pleaded that we couldn't get a taxi, even after calling around for one. One even gave us a package of M&Ms as we were also starving.

Eventually we were thrown out, and went down the street to a pizza place, happy to see a place open at 3AM. We devoured two large pies in a few minutes. Then, strangely, we walked outside and caught two taxis immediately. Those of us staying at Petra and Eliot's (another couple and me), stayed up until 4 or so, drinking water and getting advice from ninjas.

What strikes me as strange about all this is how the city of Boston would not be more accommodating on this day. Mass transit doesn't run late at night, so you'd think they'd make an exception, especially for a winter night in Boston. I hear maybe it's the taxi cabal keeping the night all to themselves, at the cabbies' and our expense.

a quick stop on a busy road

I was driving down to Boston from Portland while talking to my sister Anne when I noticed the subtle colors lining the roadside -- green conifers, white birch and, umm, red leaves, all dusted with ice and snow. Seemed snappable, so on Anne's suggestion, I pulled over and took a couple of shots. I don't like stopping on highways so I made it quick, and of course had passed by better compositions that I didn't want to walk back to take. Still, this should give you something of an idea as to what it was like.

The drive between the cities was fine. The roads were wet but not slippery at all, given the weather from the night before.

heavy weather

Not to be outdone by a day of rain, nature decided to send a noreaster my way Friday night.

Earlier that day I took my snowboard to Sunday River and went riding during the day. I scored a lift ticket for $10; two guys were selling them out front, and for once I wasn't suckered into buying something useless. Ahh, snowboarding on the east coast. I forgot how the conditions are, umm, somewhat more challenging than in the west. Still, I managed to ride for a couple of hours and end on a good note (i.e., not falling on my ass and breaking something on the ice).

Afterwards, I drove back during the noreaster, which was just snowing heavily at that time. I caught up to it about 20 miles outside Portland, so it could have been much worse. One thing though: people drive like maniacs here in the snow and I'm surprised I didn't see any wrecks. I was cut off twice by people who would rather squeeze in between me and the car in front of me than wait to get in behind me, where no one else was.

Then I had a quiet night in with Kim and her housemates, during which time the freezing rain started. It wasn't looking good for me for driving to Boston the next morning for St. Patrick's Day. But the rain was unfrozen the next morning. We dug out our cars and I hit the road. Thanks for pushing my car out of the snow, Kim and Jean (yes, it's as strange as it sounds, but they insisted on pushing while I sat behind the wheel, keeping my thin-blooded carcass out of the way)!

the rain falls mainly in maine

Ahh, winter weather. On my drive up to Maine Wednesday, the temperature ranged between 60 and 70 degrees, cooling off the further north I drove. It was beautiful, and there was that palpable spring feeling in the air, something you don't get in California as the seasons really don't change all that much.

I knew it couldn't last tho. The next morning I awoke to rain. I drove out to Freeport; my cousin Kim, with whom I was staying, recommended I try to visit Wolfe's Neck Woods Park near there. (Originally, I wanted to visit Acadia National Park but the park is largely closed for the season; plus it was a longer drive than I anticipated.) The rain was torrential by this time. I drove through Freeport then out to the park only to find that it too was closed today. I drove up and down a couple of the finger-width peninsulas, hoping to find beach access some place. No such luck.

Tho I may have drawn the attention of Freeport's Finest. I was at the end of a road, near a private drive. I turned the car around, then got out to get my camera out of the back to keep ready. Someone was pulling out of a nearby driveway and stopped to suss me out, I guess. A few minutes later I was driving up the road and a cop car passed in the opposite direction. Then I turned a corner and a police SUV went down the same road. A minute later a third patrol car drove past me in the same direction as the other two cars. Maybe I'm being paranoid, but I wonder if there was a connection between my presence and theirs. There was nothing going on on this road, so I can't imagine why else they'd show up. Maybe it was to welcome me.

Anyway, afterwards, I shopped at Freeport, including the LL Bean headquarters (kinda like a preppy version of REI), a small Patagonia outlet, then Ben and Jerry's for a waffle cone of Oatmeal Cookie Chunk. I'll be a very sad panda if they ever pull the plug on that flavor.

back in the USSA

We made it back to Logan only ten minutes late, even though our flight was delayed 1.5 hours. I was impressed. We didn't even get to see the end of the James Bond movie.

Once in Boston, we stayed with Petra (on the left in her picture) and Eliot (on the right in his), this couple I met on my last trip to Iceland while standing outside a club at 2AM in the midnight sun. On that trip, they graciously invited me along with them on their trip to Geysir and Gullfoss.

So, staying with them was a fitting end to our trip.

See you two for Saint Patty's Day this Saturday!

gullfoss

After tearing ourselves away from Geysir, we drove up the road (a mere 10km -- like Mývatn, incredible things are packed close together around here, too) to Gullfoss, the golden falls.

When I was last here, the weather was terrible, and it was summer. Today it was sunny, relatively warm (about 40F), and calm. No horizontal rain. So I managed to hike down to the falls proper.

After, I met with Leah up at the top, we snapped a few shots, and were on our way to the airport. The drive was quick, easy and dry. Of course, our flight was delayed an hour and a half, yet we somehow landed in Boston only 10 minutes late (amazing, for a 6 hour flight).

geysir

It's our last day, and we have to be back at the Keflavík airport, some 150km away over a mountain pass) for a 5PM flight. So we did most of the so-called Golden Circle tour, visiting Geysir and Gullfoss.

Geysir is the ur-geyser, which just means gusher. The original Geysir is no longer terribly active (apparently all the rocks and laundry soap put in there to impress visiting bigwigs with a big burst finally had an effect on it), so the spotlight has moved to the regularly spouting Strokkur, a few yards away.

What's cool is that right before the geyser erupts, it forms this dome of water as it comes up the spout. It was tricky to catch it, and I got soaked once when the wind shifted, but it was mesmerizing all the same.

I'm thankful to have had a motor drive on my camera, but its 3 frame per second rate was a little slow to catch the rapid changes in the dome. Someday I'll get a camera with a faster motor drive.

time off

A run in with some bad weather caused us to shift gears on our last full day in Iceland. We left Reykjavík after shopping and lunch, driving our little 3 door Yaris over a snowy mountain pass. It was a near blizzard but our studded tires and heavy luggage weighing down the back of the car kept us from skidding (too much) on the road.

We made it to our last guesthouse, Frumskogar, and given that we were the only guests, we were offered an apartment at the same rate as a double room. Perfect timing, since the weather was so miserable that we opted to just stay in and have a day off. We cooked our freeze dried vegan hiking food and settled in to experience Icelandic teevee for the very first time. The channel lineup was something like this:

1. Icelandic C-SPAN (nothing more glorious than an MP speaking at a podium, with two other ministers behind him.
2. Soccer, followed by golf.
3. Kids programming. Then Fox reruns (Melrose Place anyone?).
4. Icelandic home shopping network.
5. C-SPAN (the same one -- they have a very tiny parliament)
6. Icelandic home shopping network. (the same)
7. Icelandic home shopping network. (ditto)
8. Fox reruns. (yep, same bat channel)
10. Soccer or golf, only with a poor signal. (again, same channel)

hallgrímskirkja

No trip to Reykjavík would be complete without a walk past Hallgrímskirkja (Hallgrím's Church), the imposing church organ/space shuttle looking church looming over the capital.

I'm not sure what the circular installation is in the foreground, that I seemed to trample over to get this perspective.

Of course, we did forget to journey to the top of the steeple, opting to shop instead.

goðafoss redux

Again, what a difference a day (or three) makes. Ice melts quickly in Iceland. The temperatures were only a couple of degress Celsius above freezing, and yet the falls looked completely different this time around.

The sun directly behind the falls made it trickier to shoot this time around, however.

over the skálfándfljot

On our way back to Akureyri, as we drove on the bridge over the Skálfándfljot river (try saying that three times fast, or even slowly -- the accented As make an "ow" sound) from Goðafoss, Leah noticed the amazing light on the river. We parked and started shooting from the bridge.

What made the shoot exciting (and a little annoying) is that the bridge had only one lane, so we had to keep an eye out for cars, running off the bridge when one was approaching. Good thing we had distant views in both directions, as Icelanders drive like maniacs, no matter the road conditions LINK (skidding seems to add a little bit of excitement to their drives).

Once the light changed, we got back in the truck (well, a Suzuki Grand Vitara, which largely passes for a truck in these parts, but nothing like the tricked out larger 4WDs called Super Jeeps), and drove across the road back to Goðafoss.

hiking west of the lake up Vindbelgjarfjall

This mountain provides the most commanding view of the lake, where you can see the pseudocraters from the best perspective, as they look just like little mountains from the side.

We could have made it to the top had the track been open. Instead, we had to hike in 2.5kms each way, which ate up the time we needed to get to the top before needing to drive back to Akureyri and still stop at Goðafoss. We made it about halfway up the mountain before turning back.

dining, sleeping at the lake

Since it's off season (anything between October and May is pretty much off season in Iceland), there was only one place to go out to eat around the whole lake (about 35km circumference) -- and there aren't many places to eat here anyway. So, we took dinner at the Sel Hotel, arguably the only hotel and restaurant in Iceland run by a gay Spanish and Icelandic couple.

The food was delicious, and Adolfo, the Spanish guy, was great and got along swimmingly with Leah. Tho, Leah didn't enjoy the geyser bread (search for Iceland on the page), baked underground and heated geothermally. It's made with dark brown flour and lots of molasses. She would have preferred it hot, with some soy butter on it.

One night we found ourselves sleepless in Mývatn, so we put ourselves to sleep by reading the abridged Icelandic history in our guide books. I actually find it interesting, but the guide books don't seem to do it justice.

good early morning light

Lake Mývatn in the morning, Vindbelgjarfjall in the distance. What a difference a day makes!

I caught this as we were driving across the road for breakfast at the Cowshed Cafe. Two things need to be explained here. First, we took breakfast in the Cowshed Cafe (part of the Vogarfjós guesthouse, and included with the room). The cafe is literally in the cowshed, so the place smells of cow, and a window separates the cafe from the cows, so you can watch them being milked or just milling in their stalls. The smell wasn't too overwhelming, thankfully.

Second, since we were so far north, the sun never traversed directly overhead, so we always had good, angular light (when the sun was out, that is), so it always looked like early morning or light afternoon as far as the light is concerned.

Oh, and they're dairy cows. I got to drink milk drawn from the cow that morning, unpasteurized, but chilled. It was udderly delicious (but you saw that coming).

hiking the hverfjall crater

We hiked to the top of the Hverfjall crater, a classic tephra cone a kilometer in diameter. The pity is you're no longer allowed to hike into the crater, as others have left their mark in the ground by drawing huge graffiti in the soil, spoiling it for the rest of us.

The hike up the crater was gradual, through packed snow covered in a thin crispy coating of ice in places.

The drive to Hverfjall was as much fun (for me, at least, as I was driving) as the hike up the crater was. The track was single lane, unpaved, and covered in snow, slush and freestanding water. At one point we almost got stuck in the snow until I just powered on through.

What this hike (and others on this trip) proved tho, is that I need a wider angle lens than the 18mm (equivalent to 28mm on a 35mm camera) I currently have.

gateway to hell or geological time machine? you decide.

After our aborted attempt to see the Krafla volcano, we stopped at Hverarönd, in the shadow of Námafjall mountain, a rhyolite colored bareback peak looming over Lake Mývatn.

This place was like stepping into a time machine and seeing an earlier age of the earth. Solfataras (boiling mud pits) burbled and burped, geothermal steam vents roared like jet engines, hydrogen sulfide permeated the air.

The pity was you could see where idiots on a dare (maybe drunks, teenagers, or both) stepped beyond the ropes, onto the thin and fragile soil. Every year someone gets scalded by sinking into the hot soil. Darwin in action, I suppose.

mission accomplished

We tried making our way to Krafla, a nearby volcano. The road was near impassible and we were recommended to walk up the icy track rather than attempt to drive up the steep hill. We got to the base of the hill and decided to turn around. We did see this interestingly colored river before we left tho!

back among the lava rocks

El Malpais in New Mexico wasn't enough for us, so we went to the lava fields in Dimmuborgir, a couple of kilometers south of our guesthouse in Mývatn. The rock formations were similar to others we've seen before; the comparisons to El Malpais were obvious, but we saw a formation like Pebble Beach in California, another like Window Rock in Arizona.

The highlight of the hike is the Kirkja, or Church. It's a cave or small tunnel with large openings at each end. During summer, they perform concerts in here somehow.

This one looked (to me) like a woman dressed in medieval garb looking up in the air, but Leah thought it looked like a cat. How Rorschach.

goðafoss (gothafoss, or god's falls)

On our way to Mývatn (Midge Lake, apparently the lake is swarming with them in summer), we stopped by Goðafoss, and were pleasantly surprised and rewarded by this frozen gem. The water ran a glacial blue, and it was hard to pick path from crevasse underneath the snow. The wind blew fiercely tho, making shooting a little difficult, mostly because it was uncomfortable, but we persevered.

Between the two falls was this little grotto, partially obscured by long icicles.

Oh, the falls are named after the Viking who, upon deciding that Iceland should be Christian back in 1000, tossed his Norse idols over these falls.

around akureyri

We had gorgeous weather our first day in Iceland. Granted, it was cold, but the sun was out, a nice welcome to us.

The Icelanders sure love their art deco churches. Between this one and Hallgrímskirkja, they sure like to make a point with them.

After wandering around town, we stocked up on supplies for our days ahead at the lake, then had a tasty dinner at La Vita é Bella, an Italian restaurant.

Oh, and we got lucky and had our guest house to ourselves for the night; not even the owner was there (such are the perks of traveling off season). There was a large crowd but they checked out earlier in the day, which thrilled Lara, the owner. They were quite messy.

prius sighting

Our first day, we flew to Akureyri, the "capital of the north" of Iceland. The next largest town outside the Reykjavík metropolitan area, it has 15,000 people in it. So it surprised me on one level to see a Prius in town, especially a town with San Francisco-esque hills, only covered in ice.

Then again, with gas around $6 a gallon (on average, 110 Icelandic Kronur per liter), it's not really surprising at all.

iceland, iceland, baby

Leah and I got to Iceland last Sunday morning, taking a redeye from Boston. Most of you know, this is my return trip to Iceland, having toured Scandinavia a couple summers ago.

I know we were up north and all, just shy of the Arctic Circle but it seemed strange that it didn't get light until 8AM, then dark around 7PM. Until I realized, Iceland is on GMT, but is physically located in the next time zone west of Greenwich.

So, we rode on a bus from the international airport to Reykjavík to catch our domestic flight from there. We drove through snow and sunrise, and arrived at the airport aroud 8:15 only to find it closed! A local man was waiting and said it should open some time before the first flight at 9:30. It was quite cold to us, but we were troopers and survived. While we waited, I took a shot of the Reykjavík skyline, for what it's worth. The imposing church is Hallgrímskirkja.

One thing funny about flying in Iceland. When we arriving in Keflavík, the international airport, we had to go through a security screen before the passport control. In the domestic airport however, there was no security at all. I carried on my Swiss Army knife, and we boarded five minutes before takeoff.

only in new jersey

Only in Jersey can you go to a shindig for a diner. OK, the Skylark Diner was more upscale than your typical greasy spoon fare, with a bar, flat panel tee-vees, $20+ entrees, and even wine tasting (!). The Skylark was celebrating its first birthday. They gave away Nets and Devils tickets and and iPod Shuffle. Laura and I won nothing.

Photo props go out to my friend Andy Daddio (image is © 2006 Andrew M. Daddio, All Rights Reserved), who did a wonderful photo series on the closing of a quintessential New Jersey diner some years ago, only to be replaced by a McDonalds. Check out his work.

Today, Leah and I are off to Iceland, so I doubt I'll be posting over the next week. So, for now, bless (which is how they say goodbye there).