John Wise – Page 217 – Dreams, Moments, Travels

Old Dog, Meet New Tricks

July 10, 2013 JWise Photo of the Day

Blender

Yeah, it’s about time I post again, but like the title says, “Old Dog, Meet New Tricks.” I’m slowly learning how to model using Blender. It has been 19 years since I did anything with 3D Studio so the skills are so rusted over that they really don’t exist anymore. At freaking 50 years old I’m diving back into the deep end: the tools ain’t what they used to be. Things have gotten far more sophisticated, meaning difficult. What you are looking at started as a simple cube that I have applied an “inset” to, a subdivide surfaces action, dissolved vertices, converted selected vertices to a curve, turned ngons into quads using the knife tool, created a loop cut, extruded an edge loop, and scaled selected geometry. Getting familiar with the tools and the myriad shortcuts so I can move about and do what I want is no easy feat, but I will persist because I have big ideas that require big work and lots of skills; mad skills. Cue laughter of the evil scientist.

Reconnecting to America

May 13, 2013 JWise Photo of the Day

The Arizona desert

This transition back to the place I live is anything but easy. If only it were as barren as one might perceive this desert-scape I might be able to have seen the beauty right away. Instead, I came back to Phoenix and it’s not just this city I live in, it is the entire country. We have become a land of Dollar stores, payday, and title loan stores, and shops that buy gold. We are discounted, two-for-one, 10 for a dollar, and triple coupons so we can appease our poor. And these poor are everywhere. They are changing the landscape of cities across America with the blight of services that appeal to people who will likely never escape the vortex in which their lives spiral. We have built the über-underclass and are empowering them to live it up in poverty. Meanwhile, our bridges fall down, our roads fall apart, our schools’ non-exceptional performance is excused due to lack of money, bad teachers, little parent involvement, dysfunctional administrators, or any other myriad of reasons. America is in a malaise and we are too close to the problem to see it clearly.

Take a trip to Europe for a contrast of just how dire things are here. I did and I’m having a hard time readjusting. Don’t get me wrong, I am able to play the part most of us assume, things are relatively good and if I don’t venture out of my comfort zone I can see how great it all is. Look out on this desert vista, there is nothing to complain about; it is perfect and serene. Peer out of your window from a gated community and all will be in place – including the poor whose world is looking more and more like one from a ghetto. “But the poor have always lived on the margin,” you say. Yes, though the poor weren’t so prolific as they are today. Look around you, the signs of the encroachment of widespread poverty are creeping into every corner. Just why are there Dollar stores sprouting up nearly everywhere? Do so many people really have such dire needs to pawn away grannie’s gold, or did they steal some other grannie’s gold?

But the financial health of the morass is not my problem unless it’s a symptom of decay that like cancer is heading for stage 4, inoperative impending death. Surely I make a mountain out of a molehill. Then why did Europe look so appealing? Are they spending money they don’t have on an illusion to demonstrate that all is well? If so, it’s working. I hardly went to the wealthiest European capitals, we ventured into Strasbourg, Dresden, Kaiserslautern, Magdeburg, Lübeck, and Görlitz. And each and every time we encountered a vibrant living downtown area without empty retail space. On the contrary, we found tourism alive and flourishing with gift shops, sidewalk cafes, and street musicians. No Dollar stores or panhandlers, okay, that was an exaggeration, there were panhandlers and a couple of discount stores, but not on the level we find in our city of Phoenix or Eureka, California, or Oklahoma City. In Frankfurt, I found one shop that buys gold, not a shop every eighth block.

So here I am, driving out and away from the bleakness I wallow in here in Phoenix, Arizona on the search for that which draws me into the bosom of America; its profound and overwhelming beauty.

London Bridge now in Arizona over the dammed Colorado River

A bridge to nowhere, not the metaphor I’m looking for. Here we are at London Bridge in Lake Havasu City, Arizona. “We” is Jessica Aldridge, my daughter, and me. Lake Havasu is a small desert outpost on the California-Arizona border, where drunken college students congregate on spring break and which a lot of elderly people call home due to the perfect weather. This place represents more of everything I find wrong with my current outlook. Some wealthy patron picks up the London Bridge from the city of London, England, and ships it to America where he resurrects it to cross over the nearly dead Colorado River to a small island that bakes under a relentless sun. At another time this bridge carried throngs of people to and fro on their way to making England a grand place of empire and influence. Today it is a bridge to nowhere, carrying people hungry for the idea of venturing into exotic locales, but whose budget allows them to winter over in the middle of the desert.

I’ve never much enjoyed this drive along the river, even before my encounter with the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon I have felt this strip of earth is a kind of no man’s land. The towns along this corridor eke out their existence upon travelers refilling their gas tanks and stomachs and once in a while, the strange desire of someone who wants to get away from it all by putting themselves in a place of such desolation that it begs at my curiosity how they got to that point in life. Roots here must surely be like the cactus that dot the landscape, shallow and spread out to grab all they can in the off chance a refreshing shower passes by. And then like the cactus, they will have been here and left, no one ever having noticed.

Driving into the Mojave Desert in California

Continuing on a theme we drive northwest as we enter the Mojave Desert. The theme being that we are heading into oblivion. Death Valley to be precise. It is here where the first reminders of what I love about America start to be rekindled. There is space aplenty in the American southwest. Nothing and nearly no one is out here. No services for 57 miles, to a European that is more than 90 kilometers, might as well be infinity. This road is the worse for wear. Back about 15 years ago when Caroline and I first drove it we weren’t sure if we were on asphalt or compacted dirt, if it weren’t for the lack of dust we’d know it was dirt. It must be a low priority to the California transportation authorities to care for this section of highway, no wonder, we are the only two people on it today.

I test driving at 100 mph on the left lane, it’s as bad as the right. At 110 mph under a 100-degree sun, the road still goes on forever into the invisible. A train track parallels part of the road. From time to time a forlorn abandoned bunch of train cars sit roadside awaiting the care of a graffiti artist to show them some love. While we are fresh out of spray paint, my daughter does have a good supply of energy and feels the need to crawl upon those trains to reenact her version of the Titanic.

Back on the road driving at a more pedestrian 70 mph, we glide over the Astro-earth, crispy thin asphalt that simulates driving right over the desert floor. The hum of tires is our soundtrack as is befitting the void of life we slice throughout here in the Mojave. Sure there is life out here, just ask any biologist, but when one careens westward over the surface of the earth, squinting to stop from blinding oneself in the afternoon sun, it is difficult to see much of anything besides the narrow strip of road nearly shut eyes can glean from their meager focus.

The sun about to set over the Mojave Desert and Death Valley in California

And then it happens, glare descends upon the day. No amount of squinty-eyed head twisting avoidance can ignore that the sun has set out to blind me. We are in the clutches of those moments when driving becomes a kind of Russian roulette in which hope carries me into thinking that maybe we are on the right side of the highway. What does it matter, it wasn’t long ago that I was intentionally driving on the opposite side? Well, that was for my entertainment when I was bored and because I could. After all, it’s one thing to be speeding on an American road at over 100 mph, it’s yet another to do so on the wrong side of the road. If I could have hovered simultaneously I would have done that too. But now I could be driving smack dab into another car that is driving under the stealth cover of road glare. Danger makes me more aware.

Things must be getting better, I can see some humor on the horizon. Not quite the golden dawn, but a golden sunset is often enough to wash away the grime of pessimism. How can I not revel in this display of warmth and depth? Right now nothing else exists between me and the sun but an endless landscape of possibility.

Reminders

May 3, 2013 JWise Photo of the Day

Map of our trip through Europe

We’re back home. Not on this map, but on our map of the American southwest. We got here as we left, by airplane. Though on this leg we arrive with a ton of jet lag. The map I share with you details the route of our travels while in Germany and a few surrounding countries. The highlighted roads are what we covered in eight days of traveling within the EU. If only we’d had all 27 days to meander.

Yarn collected in Germany

Along the way we collected some souvenirs, things to remind us of where we’ve been. For Caroline, a large part of that memory stash is in the form of yarn. Out of this pile of wool will arise a sweater, some socks, a hat, and other fibrous things of beauty and comfort. For those with an eye for quality, yes the majority of the yarn comes from Wollmeise down in Pfaffenhofen, Germany. Please forgive me, but I neglected two skeins from being included in the photo as they were sitting on Caroline’s desk where she was likely fondling them.

Marzipan and various souvenirs from Germany

In Lübeck, we raided the Niederegger store; home of the best marzipan on Earth. In Rothenburg, we bought the obligatory cuckoo clock refrigerator magnet and in Frankfurt collected nearly a dozen Bembel key-chains for friends in Phoenix.

Sweets from Reformhaus in Frankfurt, Germany

There’s a health food store in Frankfurt I couldn’t appreciate two decades ago, now I’ll miss it more than my wife will know. The place is called Reformhaus and only sells items that conform to the idea of “lebensreform” a 19th-century movement focusing on healthy products. All of these sweets are incredibly yummy but not laden with so much sugar to bring on guilt from the indulgence.

Souvenirs from Prague and Görlitz, Germany

Caroline picked up this bowl on a side street in Görlitz, the cup in Prague, and the sheep in Bautzen. The sheep chime is not ours though, it is going to a friend, a particular friend who is also obsessed with all things sheepy and fibery.

Various books about some of the old cities we visited in Germany and Czechoslovakia.

And these are my gifts to myself. Actually, there are reference materials for a project I’m embarking on as soon as a piece of technology reaches me. The common thread between these books is that they focus on medieval towns, cities, and buildings that will play a large role in what I’m creating. Along the way, while buying these I complimented the collection with a few thousand photos that will lend themselves to my goal. These things are a small part of the reminders we’ve brought back to the States with us, most everything else lives on in our hearts and memories.

The Last Minutes

April 29, 2013 JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Grasping for details, wishing for another week, uncertain if we used our time the most effectively, I’m not ready to leave Germany. Faced with tomorrow’s reality of boarding a British Air flight to London before our non-stop to Phoenix, Arizona, I am looking for those things I somehow overlooked. I know this is an act of futility, but I cannot help but fall into nostalgia for the past month, and so I wish to live it all over again. Instead of taking the train we would normally travel on our way to Jutta’s apartment, we opt for a bus that will take us on a different route; maybe I’ll see something I missed. In fact, it works; the bus we have boarded is a hybrid with a display showing us what is powering the bus and what is being charged or powered during braking. Damn, this now has me wanting more time to explore the roads yet untraveled.

Would you like fries with your hotdog? Just after arriving in Germany and one of my first blog entries recounting those days, I shot a photo of two Frankfurters; I think the designer of that wiener had a hand in producing the French fry guy.

More than a few times, Caroline and I have stopped at Kamp Bakery on Bergerstrasse for one of these brie, lingonberry, cucumber sandwiches on a full-grain, oat, and raisin roll that has us wanting to bring a couple of dozen back to America. This is the perfect breakfast sandwich, well, a close second to pork belly sandwiches anyway.

Here in ‘our world, ‘ breakfast requires dessert, and Kamp delivers again. This seemingly average pastry is not as simple as it looks. This yummy treat is an erdbeer plunder (pronounced Airt-bear ploonder – strawberry Danish for us English speakers) and is one of Caroline’s favorites. Although the strawberry cream puff we shared in Fulda was in a league of its own.

From breakfast and the last visit to Jutta’s apartment, it was time for a final visit to Jutta in rehab. Only two hours we’ll get to spend with my mother-in-law, we have a date at 1:00 with an old friend of Caroline, anyway, two hours should be enough to say bye. Of course, there’s never enough time between family and friends when goodbyes are so long between hello’s, but we have a busy day and we know that we cannot relive the thousands of moments we have already shared during the previous four weeks. We had brought my computer with us to share some of the photos I’d taken, and then it was hug time. Followed by more hugs and the deepest gratitude from Jutta that we’d come over here to cheer her up during her recovery. With more hugs and waves goodbye, Caroline and I were again underway, this time to go visit Biggy The Chameleon and her caretaker.

Caroline Wise and friend in Frankfurt, Germany

Meet Angela (pronounced Angeela – not Anjeela); she’s the caretaker extraordinaire of the amazing Biggy; and a good friend of Caroline’s. With more than 18 years between the two having met last, the chemistry still runs strong between these two. If you want to know why they are posing with bananas, I suggest you think long and hard about what two young women over 25 years ago might have been talking about that required bananas. With only two and a half hours to catch up on the conversation, the women talk fast. Angela has finally met the love of her life (besides Biggy) his name is Ruben. He is a hot and zesty Spanish man who not only cooks using utensils from heaven, but he has fully melted his heart into Angela’s. We look forward to meeting him on a future visit to the States, that’s if Angela can pull herself away from visiting him every chance she gets. No time is ever enough when old friends find themselves to still be friends. As quickly as the three of us hit it off, we needed to move down the road. With big hugs and wishes to see one another again, we tried and tried to leave, and then, out the door, we were called back one last time. Angela presented Caroline with a mini-Biggy in toy form. Downstairs, our goodbyes were still not over. Out of her window, Angela waved goodbye for the next two minutes until we turned the corner on our way to the train. For all I know, she may still be waving out the window, tears rolling down her cheeks, and…..Nah, I’m sure she went back to her flat and started showering more love on Biggy The Chameleon.

Update: the reference to the bananas was left alone, but for discretionary reasons, I had to remove the original image.

Looking for details, I found some more. These are stolpesteine (stumbling stones) they are supposed to stop you as you “stumble” over them. After grabbing your attention, you are supposed to read the stones and give thought to what has been shared. In this case, the stolpesteine are at the Judengasse area (old Jewish quarter) and make note of people who came to an untimely end during World War II. It appears that the entire Zuntz family was murdered, four of them at Auschwitz.

Our walk from Konstablerwache through the former Jewish quarter was intended to take us to a nearby bembel shop. Bembel’s are the traditional Frankfurt apple wine jugs. My mother, at the last minute, meaning last night at midnight our time, asked if we could bring her a small flower pot. We had just finished packing, so I told her, “Of course not; we can’t bring you a bembel pot at the last minute; our bags are full.” But she is my mom, so we go anyway and decide we’ll just bring another bag with us and fill it with other stuff we were going to leave behind.

And the little details keep coming on. This one is embedded in the U-Bahn (subway) floor, a medallion between squares to give the floor a unique look. Each of the markers is different, and all of them are interesting.

One more ride on the U5 richtung Preungesheim (direction Preungesheim). This was our old train that we’d take two stops from Konstablerwache to Glauburgstrasse nearly every day when we lived here. We are on it this afternoon for the last visit to another favorite place that has already shown up a couple of other times here on my blog this month.

Eis Christina. I just had to have another Spaghetti Eis (spaghetti ice cream); you’ll have to read a previous entry for details on what spaghetti ice cream is. We split a Maxi portion; what else? The day turned sunny after a cold, damp start, and so half of Frankfurt showed up at this popular ice cream shop. Back in the ’90s, this place was a tiny shop a couple of doors up the street. After winning a couple of “Best of Frankfurt” awards, they needed to move to a much larger shop. Even with all of the extra seating (there used to be about none), they still have every chair filled with a dozen more people milling about eating their ice creams.

Klaus spent a good part of the day making dinner for us, a great departing treat for Caroline and me. Actually, the preparation started last night when he made the Bolognese sauce for the lasagna he would serve us tonight. When we got home from our day in the city, the house smelled delicious; it did last night, too. After nearly an hour’s wait, dinner was ready. The five of us collected around the table. Klaus served up his masterpiece, and then there was nothing left to do but enjoy his super-lecke (yummy) dinner. None of us can believe that it’s already been nearly a month since we flew into Frankfurt Airport, just five days after Jutta’s fall. While the girls continued their conversation, I headed upstairs to start working on this blog entry before trying to get us to sleep at a reasonable time for our early departure back to the airport.

It’s already 9:00 pm when this sunset unfolds. In Frankfurt, sunsets are a rarity, as in the inner city, one is surrounded by buildings in all directions. Up on Stephanie and Klaus’s third floor, I have a perfect view into the distance (over roofs, of course) to be witness to this nearly perfect sunset and the end of our time in Germany, for now.

Heading For The Exit

April 28, 2013 JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

This is how I feel today, Ausfahrt frei halten! Do not block the driveway! We are about to pull out of having parked ourselves in Frankfurt and don’t need to have anyone blocking our way; yes, we do.

This small sign is attached to a large wall, actually a small segment of what remains of the Staufermauer – old city wall. Built around 1180, the sign notes that this section was rebuilt in 1711 after the adjoining Jewish ghetto burned down.

We were on our way to the former location of the Jewish ghetto and a museum that has been dedicated to this part of Frankfurt’s history. This sketch by Peter Becker from 1872 titled “Hinterhäuser in der Judengasse” is part of the depiction and uncovered ruins that had been the small corner of Frankfurt where Jews were segregated over the centuries.

During excavation for a new building, the foundation walls and basements of the old Jewish ghetto were uncovered. It was originally the plan to simply build over them, but protests helped create the situation that the city and builder agreed to build a museum as a memorial to the dark history of Jewish isolationism that occurred not only in this city but in cities across Germany. Many of those people who walked the narrow streets and alleys in this compact, unsanitary ghetto were murdered during World War II.

This model in the Judengasse Museum depicts the cramped quarters Jews were forced to live in. Not only were they living with overcrowding due to the tiny area, but they also had little access to clean water and were often victims of crime and exploitation. In the 1860s there was a lifting of the ban that prohibited their travel. Many Jews tried leaving for what was thought were better lives in other cities, but that would all be crushed 70 years later with the onset of war.

There are a number of artifacts on display that were excavated during the archeological dig that ensued following the decision to protect the ruins of Judengasse. Another display features a few remaining parts of the old synagogue that was destroyed. It starts to become depressing here seeing items that had been handled by people who may have been marched out of their homes and deported, only to be murdered at the hands of people filled with rage and politically motivated hatred.

There are a couple of Mikwe (ritual baths) that were uncovered and are now viewable as part of the museum. Sadness accumulates while looking in and walking upon the stone passages that had once been used by people who unceremoniously were taken away and their memories buried along with their tortured souls. I need to get out of here.

Next to Judengasse is what remains of the Jewish Cemetery. During World War II, it was destroyed but following the war, it was partially restored and set as a memorial to honor those who died here. While walking along the wall, I came upon this marker, noting that Dora Kirchhoff, once a resident of Judengasse died during the war. Kirchhoff is a variation of the spelling of my maternal family name. One other interesting factoid I learned while here, the houses in which Jews lived had symbols on the outside of their homes; this often led to what they would take as their last names. The house with a red shield on it (Rote Schild) became Rothschild – yes, that Rothschild.

The good old Hamburger Royal with Käse – a quarter pounder with cheese can be ordered in Frankfurt on these automated kiosks to save you the time of standing in line. Of course, we ate at McDonald’s in Germany; it’s the Hamburger Royal, after all.

With less than 24 hours to go, we finally get a group picture, even if it’s a little cramped. From left to right: Katharina Engelhardt, Caroline Wise, Jutta Engelhardt, Stephanie and Klaus Engelhardt, and John Wise. Had we had another set of hands in the garden that could have snapped our photo, I would hopefully not loom so large over on the right side, but these self/group photos are a difficult task.

From visiting Jutta, we continued on the 12-train line out to Schwanheim for a visit to one of Christian Engelhardt’s favorite restaurants. He was Caroline’s paternal grandfather, and I needed to know what an old German guy thought was great food, as I have come to know that this man loved food, something he and I have in common.

The place of our pilgrimage is called Frankfurter Hof Seppche. Staying with the theme of trying Frankfurt specialties, we start the meal with händkase, and Caroline opts for another apple wine. I ordered the giant plate of meat with roasted potatoes and mushrooms and loved it. The grüne sosse just seems like the perfect meal for Caroline, and she orders it for the last time during this visit to her home country.

Leaving Seppche, we take notice of their great sign, a Bembel surrounded by a wreath. Back when I lived in Germany, I thought German food was boring. Nothing but boiled flavorless foods, oh, how I was wrong. I suppose I should reevaluate a lot of my perceptions and prejudices I entertained back in my 20s and early 30s, but today, right here, right now, is not the time as I race the clock to finish yet one more blog entry.

Back on streetcar number 12 for our return to Frankfurt. How long before our next visit? I hope it’s not another 18 years.

Winding Down

April 27, 2013 JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Seventy-two hours to go before we depart on our return to America. Time is short. What hasn’t been done by now won’t be. That isn’t to say there is nothing to do. We won’t sit still twiddling our fingers. Matter of fact, we would have headed north tomorrow to Köln (Cologne) and then over to Venlo, Holland, but a cold rain has set in over central Europe, so we’ll hang out and keep Jutta company. During the early day today though, we have some chores. First up was buying a guitar case for a guitar owned by Caroline’s grandfather. Having the car today instead of taking the train creates huge delays, as finding parking is never easy if there isn’t a nearby parking garage. By the time we get to Bergerstrasse, we’re both super hungry. On the way to pick up a sandwich through the Saturday open-air market, I spotted these strange-looking berries that I wasn’t sure if they were raspberries or strawberries. Turns out they are an old-fashioned type of strawberry not cultivated for mass consumption anymore. Maybe they’ll make a comeback with their incredible flavor, which is not 100% strawberry. But they are expensive at $6.00 for two small handfuls of the super sweet-tasting berries.

Weeks ago, I wrote of my being enamored with pork-belly sandwiches, with only a couple more opportunities to delight in them; this was my choice for breakfast today. During this time, I’ve nearly become friends with one of the ladies who works here at Erich Zeiss Metzgerai (butcher). While I fetched my meal, Caroline was back over at Bäckerei Kamp (bakery) getting a full-grain dark bread sandwich with brie, cucumber, lettuce, and lingonberries, also a favorite of ours. She also picked up a couple of slices of strawberry cake that we were taking to share with Jutta.

Having found a great parking spot, we were loath to leave it. Instead, we dipped into the U-Bahn tunnel to catch a train. We were also testing the idea that instead of taking streetcar #12 all the way to southwest Frankfurt, maybe it was quicker to take the subway part of the way and then pick up the streetcar. The verdict is out as it felt about the same, nor do we have any empirical proof that could sway the jury.

Jutta’s certainly feeling much better; her first question for us upon our arrival was asking if we’d like to take a walk outside. She hadn’t realized that the temperature had dropped into the cold and that it was currently raining. Instead, we walked over to the dining room of the rehab center and grabbed a pot of coffee and some forks as we sat down to chat over some yummy strawberry cake.

For the next hours, we bounced around the conversation and shared details of yesterday’s trip to Strasbourg, France while Jutta recalled her visits. While she’s been so very happy to see, she’s also encouraged us to get out and see a few things; we obliged her with those trips to Wattenmear, Denmark, Lübeck, Magdeburg, Lünaburg, Dresden, Eisenach, Bautzen, Görlitz, Poland, and Prague. Before we know it, time has flown out the window, and we have to get moving to finish the remaining chores. We bid Jutta adieu and walked back to the train stop without the duffel we intended to pick up, though we didn’t realize that until just before arriving back at Jutta’s apartment. Part of our intentions today was to test pack; without that bag, we’ll have to postpone. So it goes.

After packing up what we could at Jutta’s into plastic bags and putting the guitar in its new case, it was after 6:00, and we were getting hungry. Thought about stopping on the way back to Stephanie and Klaus’s but decided on one last return to the Lahme Esel restaurant. Good thing we didn’t go directly there because after asking the Engelhardt’s if they’d like to join us, a call was made for table availability, where we found out that there was nothing until 9:00. Okay then, a late dinner it is. Caroline opted for the Grüne Sosse, and I took the meat fantasy plate. My dinner was the Bäcker-Schaufel or Bakers Shovel, and a shovel of food it was. Two pieces of pork steak, rump steak, hamburger steak, sausages, bacon, fried potatoes, mushrooms, and a salad. I have to say it again: twenty years ago I thought traditional German food was kind of boring, but when this trip ends I’ll be doing my fair share of missing this style of cooking as my opinion has changed greatly. Oh, how I love German food.