Showing posts with label summer vacation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label summer vacation. Show all posts

Friday, July 31, 2009

SOME OFFBEAT SUMMER SONGS


These squares are having a great beach party but soon a giant squid will pull them into the sea and the REAL party can get started! Here are some strange summer songs from off the beaten path.


"Summer Cannibals" by Patti Smith, film by the legendary Robert Frank


"Summertime" by Janis Joplin--Cheap Thrills recording session. Janis never had the band she deserved, but she was a blues goddess.


"Summer Days" by Bob Dylan at Madison Square Garden. This worn-out riverboat gambler is as good as he's ever been, and that's saying a lot. His band is killer.

Friday, July 10, 2009

FRONTIER PSYCHIATRIST

Sigmund Freud (1856-1939), physiologist, medical doctor, psychologist and father of psychoanalysis, pictured here with phallic symbol. Freud articulated the concepts of the unconscious, of infantile sexuality, of repression, and proposed a tri-partite model of the mind's structure, all as part of a radically new conceptual and therapeutic frame of reference for the understanding of human psychological development, based on a limited sample of unhappy Viennese housewives.



Eventually a frequent cocaine user, Freud started with the purchase of a gram for fatigue. After all, he reasoned, the German army used it to fight off exhaustion so maybe it would help some of his patients. First, he took a dose himself. And then another. Before long, he was tooting on a regular basis. He even sent some to friends, including his fiancee, Martha Bernays, accompanied with this note on June 2, 1884:

"I will kiss you quite red and feed you till you are plump. And if you are forward you shall see who is the stronger, a little girl who doesn't eat enough or a big strong man with cocaine in his body. In my last serious depression I took cocaine again and a small dose lifted me to the heights in a wonderful fashion. I am just now collecting the literature for a song of praise to this magical substance."

Clearly, Freud was coked out of his gourd.


John Styth Pemberton, plucky entreprenuer and dope pusher

Along came Pemberton. Back then, one could buy cocaine lozenges and pastilles, elixirs and pills. Cocaine wine, first sold in Europe under the name of Vin Mariani, was a raging success. There were many imitations. In the United States, John Styth Pemberton brought out his own version in 1881. He hit the jackpot when Atlanta banned the sale of alcohol in 1885, and he tweaked the recipe, removing the alcohol but keeping the cocaine, and sold his drink under the name Coca-Cola.

This was the true "Classic Coke." Of course, the coke was eventually removed from the Coke (in 1913) but the company has remained successful. It turned out it was even cheaper to sell colored sugar water without the cocaine!


In the spirit of psychiatry, we present a wonderful expressionistic portrait of madness by The Avalanches, entitled "Frontier Psychiatrist:"

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

THE ETERNAL CITY

Why visit Rome? The Eternal City is chaotic--but a beautiful chaos. This isn't Kansas, Toto. Vespas buzz circles around Bernini statues, pick-pockets work the Metro, beautiful women catch a glance, Swiss Guards cross spears, businessmen in Armani suits squeeze past fat priests, skinny nuns, Africans selling purses on blankets, dodging the caribinieri and the outdoor tables of world class restaurants where oblivious lovers dine before strolling arm in arm in the passeggiata. Rome has had visitors for thousands of years. It can handle travelers--just as it's handled the Roman Legions, numerous religious pilgrims, Celtic and German invasions, Mussolini's March, Junior Year Abroad, Japanese tourists on photo tours, history buffs and art hounds, Americans searching for the roots of Western Civilization or just their own families, and chilly Northern Europeans searching for warmth of every variety--weather, culture, food, romance.

Watch Rossellini's Open City, or Fellini's La Dolce Vita, and try to resist this city's charms. Fellini used to hang out in the Piazza Navone, formerly a chariot track in Roman times built by Domitian in the 1st century and now a lovely piazza lined with palaces and outdoor cafes and good restaurants. The centerpiece of the piazza is a Baroque masterpiece by sculptor Bernini, la Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi (the Fountain of the Four Rivers-- a detail is shown above). At night, there is a lively crowd, and this is the social heart of the city. As Fellini says in I, Fellini, "Rome became my home as soon as I saw it. I was born that moment."

The Pantheon is antiquity's best preserved building, and remained the world's highest dome until the Renaissance came along (also in Italy, of course, but up in Florence). As everything else in Rome, it exists in a time warp--you can imagine Hadrian's slaves hauling slabs of marble two thousand years back, or Romans strolling past as they do now, since the Pantheon has been in continuous use since its construction. Nowadays, it anchors a neighborhood of shops and cafes, with plenty of foot traffic. Across a narrow street from the imposing "house of the gods" is the brilliant Cremeria Monteforte, where they make impossibly delicious gelati in the traditional style. This unlikely combination "explains" Rome as well as anything.

Campo de' Fiori (Field of Flowers) is another favorite spot in Rome, a great place to eat outdoors (I remember a twenty-something gallery attendant at the museum where I work saying she couldn't get decent food in Rome--and I had to shrug and bite my tongue) and we ate at La Carbonara (where they invented the dish) under the watchful gaze of Giordano Bruno, a man who dared suggest the Earth was NOT the center of the Universe and was burned on the spot in 1600. This has always been a lively place. The painter Caravaggio killed a man here in a sword fight (Today, he'd be on Prozac and would probably paint a lot less). The Campo is a Roman street party at night, with kids hanging out, joking, making music, and most likely convinced that they are the center of the Universe.

Rome at night is magical, and lit dimly as if by torchlight. Stroll to the heartrending Trevi Fountain--where an iconic scene in La Dolce Vita was filmed--and toss a coin over your shoulder, assuring that you wll return. Walk to the Spanish Steps, where romantic poets swooned--Keats is buried here. Lord Byron lived across the square. Walk to the Roman Forum, if you really want to feel history.

The Roman Forum is ghostly. You feel the history as you trod the smooth stones of what once bustled with power and empire and the height of Roman splendor. The day we visited the Forum it rained, the only rain on our entire trip, and somehow that added to the experience, as strange as it may sound. These weathered ruins have withstood Time itself. As it sprinkled, we stood under grey skies before The Temple of Julius Caesar (Tempio del Divo Giulio) where Caesar was stabbed (though he never uttered "Et tu, Brute," those words were put in his mouth by an Englishman) and Mark Antony hailed friends, Romans, and countrymen (further elaborated by Shakespeare). Down the stone path, we walked among wildflowers and broken marble and visited the House of the Vestal Virgins, the Palace of Caligula, The Temple of Saturn, and the Curia, or Senate House. Rome is fascinating, and after so many swords-and-sandals epics we feel we know it, but there is no experience that compares with being there, among the broken columns and shattered temples of the Roman Forum.

Vatican City is a tiny independent country containing some of the greatest treasures on Earth. We saw them all--or nearly. There is such an abundance of riches you need to skip paintings and objects that would qualify as another country's greatest masterpieces, but time is limited so make your way through the crowds to see the Raphael stanza and the glorious ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. The cleaning has been controversial, but I saw it before the restoration, dark with soot from candles and layers of oil, and now it's absolutely luminous and as close as we can get to the way it looked to Michelangelo. The walls of the chapel were painted by other great painters, Ghirlandaio, Perugino, and Botticelli, so don't overlook these, but the frescoes overhead and accompanying lunettes by Michelangelo are truly overwhelming.

And to think, Michelangelo didn't want the job. He told Pope Julius II, "I'm a sculptor, not a painter!"

Down the way, probably jammed with tourists and priests and pilgrims from around the world, is the Basilica Papale di San Pietro in Vaticano, commonly called St. Peter's Basilica, the largest church on Earth. The basilica is unbelievable. Even by today's standards, in the Age of Special Effects, this place is a mind blower, and you can only imagine what a simple peasant must have felt five hundred years ago. There has been a church on this site since the 4th century, but construction of the present basilica was built over the old Constantinian basilica started in 1506 and continued until its completion in 1626. The dome and floor plan were designed by Michelangelo, who also contributed the sculpture, his Pieta, which he completed when he was just 24 years old.

The Colosseum is a remarkable feat of engineering, a muscular combination of a four story Roman facade decorated with all three types of Greek columns (remember? Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian?) representing the best and worst of Rome. The display of might and raw power captivated commoner and aristocrat alike (entry was free, and the same with the wine and food) as gladiators, criminals and wild animals fought to the death. The Roman poet Juvenal called this sort of display panis et circenses (bread and circuses) and the name has come to refer to entertainment used by politicians to distract the public and to gain popular support. Keep the people amused, goes the reasoning, and they won't rebel.

Throughout our Italian holiday, the entire country was riveted to the Giro d'Italia, a three week bike race throughout Italy that nearly paralleled our journey. We saw the signs and banners in the mountains and on the coast, we passed their staging areas in Florence and the hills of Tuscany, and now finally was the last day of the Giro and the finish line was at the Colosseum the day we visited. Beside the quiet, muscular ruin, sportscasters and fans ran around, televisions crews jostled for coverage, news helicopters flew overhead. The Colosseum stood its ground, having seen everything. At first, the bike race was a distraction, then I realized this is probably the same beautiful chaos that attended events at the Colosseum in days of old. Sure, this was a modern version, but I bet 50,000 drunken Romans attending gladiatorial combat on this very same spot also made a hellish racket. We walked through the arena, through passageways that honeycomb this iconic symbol of Imperial Rome where an estimated half million people and a million animals lost their lives, and looked up to see helicopters passing overhead. The crowd roared at the finish line. The stones remained, as always, cool and silent.

Thursday, June 4, 2009

BACK FROM ITALY

We just returned from Italy and I already miss this little breakfast nook overlooking the Ligurian Sea. From this perch in the Cinque Terre, the ocean is hazy blue and homes are scattered like dice on hillsides crowded with vineyards and lemon trees. Breakfast is the perfect capuccino and a flakey cornetto smeared with homemade lemon marmalade. Seabirds wing overhead, darting and singing. Fishing boats bob and fishermen haul in nets. A lone tower, medieval in cut and weathered by centuries of storms, stands watch for pirates.

I know how it sounds, but we're really not accustomed to paradise. Travel is a luxury, and we saved up and slipped into Europe through the back door. At first we felt like tramps in the palace, but the feeling passed with the first pitcher of vino della casa and platter of calamari, and soon we were enjoying la dolce vita of the cinque terre (the "five lands") with the best of them.

Life is good here. The locals catch fish and make wine and swim in the sea. There are a few family run places to stay but there are no major hotels and no roads between the villages (you can't get there by car) so most of your "ugly Americans" (or Germans, or French) stay away or head up the coast to Portofino where there are big, swanky hotels, traffic jams, yachts and cruise ships.

Not here. At night, we sip drinks by the water under faded yellow umbrellas lit by hanging lamps, and when the waiters inside put on a Billie Holiday record--softly, barely louder than the surf--it's too perfect. We're never going back.

The next morning we hike. The villages are connected by the Sientiero Azzurro, a steep goat trail carved out in ancient Roman times. This footpath hugs the cliffs and can be extremely narrow, so no pushing, please. The views are breathtaking. Start early in the morning while it's still cool--but first, enjoy the perfect breakfast.

Views like this, of Vernazza, make the steep trail worth the climb.

This short film might give you a feeling of the Cinque Terre:

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

TRAVEL TIPS



Spring is here, and travel is in the air. In spite of a troubled economy people are planning vacations. Last Saturday night, we drank beer with some friends. In our small group, one was leaving for Paris the next morning, another to London, and two were flying to the East Coast. We're planning a trip to Italy.

Travel is exciting and eye-opening, and the anticipation is half the fun. Everyone was in a great mood, comparing notes. One friend at the pub was Harriet Baskas, a travel writer who regularly reports on airports around the world. She was leaving for London early the next morning. You can read her weekly column on MSNBC.com (The Well-Mannered Traveler), her monthly column on USATODAY.com (At The Airport), and her daily blog, Stuck at the Airport.

I sent Harriet this travel warning about the Franz Kafka Airport. She joked that she was so jet-lagged she didn't realize it was a spoof at first. Let's hope it's a spoof!

Some other Travel Links:
Air Travel Consolidators
Travelocity
Expedia
Affordable Tours - comparisons
Rick Steves' ETTBD

Thursday, May 29, 2008

SUMMER VACATION!


Set the Wayback Machine for the last day of school! You cleaned your locker, the bell rang, and you walked into three months of root beer Popsicles, riding bikes, playing paddle pool at Indian Park, listening to transistor radios ("home of the KISN Good Guys!"), and going to the movies! You'd pay your money (fifty cents for under twelve) , buy Flicks at the candy counter (a metallic cylinder of Hershey's-type kisses) and slip through heavy velvet drapes for a cheap-o kid exploitation Hollywood crapola movie like this. With any luck, the girl you had a crush on from school (remember her?) would be there with her girlfriends and you'd sit behind them and throw peanuts at them. Then you'd try to act cool. Your senses were wide open. You were lucky to be alive in the Golden Age of the Great American Experiment. Anyway, this movie would be playing.