Pondside Thoughts...

Back to reality.... or did I just leave it?

Back to work today... hard to believe my week off is gone. It flew by so fast.

While I was glad to get home yesterday, back to my own bed, my own porch, my beautiful Spy Pond, it was imposslbe to sleep last night as I thought about all that lay waiting for me at the office. I finally fell into a troubled sleep which was invaded by the sun and NPR only moments later, it seemed. And today was at least fifty hours long. My days at work generally are very busy and active and I rarely look at my watch until about 5, when I realize the work day is gone and I still have hours of work to do.  But today I plopped into my chair at 3, completely exhausted, glanced at my watch and couldn't believe I still had hours of meetings to attend. Oh my.

Re-entry is not for wimps.

It's finally past 5 and I have done my basic work for the day. I just don't have it in me to work the additional three hours that would normally complete my day and make a dent in my work...

As for the last few days of vacation, they were as delightful as the first. I spent them with C and P and daughter and son-in-law A and E on Yokum Pond in Becket.  We saw "Gallim" at Jacob's Pillow, had yummy beer can chicken for dinner, and played endless silly games with baby Julia, who is a beauty and a delight. But beyond all that, here's my favorite part. 

On Saturday morning P's neighbor, the amazing C, asked us to drive her boat as she took her first water skiing spin around the lake  C is an experienced water skier who just loves to get out there and zoom around beautiful Yokum Pond on a single ski.  P was to drive and I would be the spotter. C took us around the lake once to test the new motor on her powerful little boat and give directions. Then P took over the wheel and C jumped into the water, put on her ski and held the rope as we slowly moved ahead until it was taut. P hit the gas and the boat powered forward. The amazing C slowly came out of the water on her ski, beautiful, grinning ear to ear, and gracefully skiing back and forth across the wake, coming up next to the boat, drifting back, seemingly effortlessly carving the water for a full turn around the entire large lake.  When we again reached our starting point C dropped the rope and we circled round to pick her up.  We were screaming in delight and joy for the amazing C, not only in the boat, but on the shore friends celebrated this incredible woman's journey around the lake on a single water ski.  The amazing C is 72 years old, has a very nasty and aggressive case of pancreatic cancer, and severe arthritis that takes particular pleasure in locking up her shoulders. By all rights and standards, she should be sitting in a rocking chair receiving guests and sipping tea.

But not the amazing C.  Let us all be blessed with her will, her optimism, and her indominable spirit.

Vacation Life is Good. Very Good.

It has been a very good vacation week here in the Berkshires.  Work has been beckoning, but I've managed to keep it largely at bay, with only a few hours taken from the week... not bad, given all that is happening. Monday will be an adventure, I'm sure, but I'm trying not to think about it until at least Sunday afternoon. With limited success.

We went to the Clark Museum in Williamstown, MA, to see the Arthur Dove/Georgia O'Keeffe exhibit, which was wonderful.  I'd never seen their work displayed side by side. Remarkable how strongly Dove influenced O'Keeffe, who credits him with her introduction to modernism. And it is clear that O'Keeffe influenced Dove's later work when he moved to watercolor.

Arthur Dove's "Sea Gull Motive" and Georgia O'Keeffe's "Dark Iris":

 

Remarkable, no? 

Last night we saw "Away We Go" with Maya Rudolph. What a funny, interesting, touching movie. Just wonderful - a hearty laugh and a few tears if you are a true cinematic weeper like me.

We continue to sample the great restaurants of the Berkshires including a light supper at Napa in Great Barrington last night.  I had a yummy red lentil soup with chorizo and smoked paprika and a roasted beet salad with arugala, Berkshire blue cheese and toasted almonds, with a glass of Fabre Montmayou Classico Malbec from Argentina.  Is there a better way to end the day?  Not likely, especially since young Fisherman A joined us and added good conversation and several very amusing tales of his day to day toils as a server at a posh Berkshire retreat.

On to Becket this evening, and dear friends C & P, their daughter and her husband, the wonderful A & E, and grandaughter, the amazing and lovely baby J.  All on the shore of beautiful and huge Yokum Pond. This will be a nice way to end my Berkshire retreat.

Off on Vacation in the Berkshires

Oh, precious vacation week, I thought you'd never arrive.

Saturday morning I dashed about madly preparing for a restful vacation in the Berkshires with Dear Cousins J and G. Preparation was something I hadn't, of course, even considered in the days before, partly due to all that is going on right now at work - completely consuming - and partly becuase that's just me.  I'm not interested in the whole deciding and packing thing until the time is HERE.  So, as is my habit, I left the house Saturday around 1PM and drove the 2+ hours west having finished all the chores, but tired and far more ready for a nap than a long drive.

Arrived Saturday in time for Woody Allen's new movie, "Whatever Works" (loved it, with perfectly tuned performance by Larry David, Patricia Clarkson, and Evan Rachel Wood. The damp reviews be damned, I found it gently neurotic, sweet, sad, hopeful, and everything we have come to expect - and occasionally get - from Mr Allen), followed by dinner in West Stockbridge at a sturdy, cheerful restaurant called Rouge that specializes in lthe best of locally grown organic food. Dear Cousin J and I had perfectly cooked rack of lamb with sweet potatoe puree and snow peas with a Montepulciano Sangiovese, while Dear Cousin G and others in our party had the thyme and rosemary encrusted ribeye steak and an Oregon Pinot Noir to celebrate their return the day before from a wonderful vacation in Oregon. This was a perfect way to launch vacation. By the time dinner and wine and conversation were done it was almost midnight and time for that special night's sleep that happens only the first night of vacation. I fell into bed exhausted and slept until 9:30 the following morning - a complete miracle for me.

And what was the best part of Sunday? The sun was out, yes it was.  We have had weeks and weeks of rainy weather in Boston, far more than is reasonable or fair, and all of it centering around weekend after weekend of mist, drizzle, or monsoon. Out here in the Berks the sun is out, it is temperate, breezy, and utterly wonderful. J and G's house is perched atop a big hill that overlooks a lake. Birds are the only sounds around and they have been singing for joy, celebrating the reappearance of the happy yellow orb, since I arrived. Deep breath. Exhale slowly.

We visited with J & G's delicious sons, Bon Vivant J and Fisherman A, had a wonderful lunch just south of Gt Barrington, stopped at many garden centers to admire plants and choose a bird bath. We purchased an obscene number of strip steaks, corn, and a volleyball sized watermelon for dinner. We added a country bread and black bean, corn, lime, cilantro salad from the fridge and oh, my, we ate and talked and laughed. Rinse and repeat.

Bon Vivant J left at 7AM today on his long drive back to Toronto.  We all went back to bed and slept until 10. Has the world gone mad??

Today, with repeatedly expressed good intentions of getting to the gym, taking a long walk, doing other productive things, we lazed about instead, killed the Times puzzle, admired the flowers in the garden, dead headed one or two, chatted strenuously, read books and magazines and never quite managed to dress until now - about 6:15 PM.  We're off to a local reataurant run by a Vietnamese family where the Pho is incomparable and cheap.

Photo is the beautiful Amy Palatnick pottery brought back from Oregon by lucky J and G.

Bliss on Jacob's Pillow

Sweet A and I spent the weekend in The Berkshires, attending two performances at the amazing annual Dance Festival at Jacob's Pillow, and visiting with Fun Cousins G&J.  We started the day with a delightful dim sum breakfast to celebrate Dear G's birthday, and then the three of us - Sweet A, Pumalicious, and I - headed out for what should have been a leisurely drive to the Berkshire Mountains, Becket, and the Pillow.

But traffic doing what traffic does, we ended up in a mad panic (driving cautiously, with two wheels on the ground at all times) racing westward the last hundred miles, having crawled the first fifty or so. The original plan was to bring Pumalicious to Fun Cousins G&J and head over to the Pillow for the afternoon show, rejoining G&J for a relaxing dinner and returning altogether for the evening performance. 

We were so late, I gave up all hope of seeing the afternoon performance myself, figuring we'd drive directly to the theater, drop off Sweet A just in time, and I'd take Pumalicious for a long walk and pick up Sweet A in an hour. And out of the blue, our dear friends, the Amazing C&P, saved the day when they offered to babysit Pumalicious so that Sweet A and I could see the performance together. Yay!!!  How wonderful that was! C&P live just minutes from the Pillow on the bank of a huge lake, so up the mountain, down the mountain, wild hare ride to the banks of Yokum Pond, where Puma had a delightfully cool swim and watery stick chase for a couple hours while Sweet A and I made it to the show about 10 minutes late, suffered the look of rueful disappointment from the pipsqueak ticket window child/woman and slid into our seats to have our breath taken away by Conne Janssen's Danst group:

We returned to Yokum Pond, hung with C&P while Pumalicious gnawed what looked like a tasty barbecued brontosaurus bone - one of a dozen or so, casually stored in C&P's freezer.  On to Fun Cousins G&J for a brief visit with Cute Cousin A and a fantastic dinner made by mad skilled Cousin J. Back to the Pillow - this time with four wheels on the road - a tad boring - and the visual feast of Alonzo King's Lines Ballet:

Sunday was sleeping late, peaceful chatter, NYT crossword, jigsaw puzzle, laughter, dishing, and the lovingly comfortable conversation of family. Healing and utterly relaxing. We felt as if we'd had a week's vacation.

Except when I woke up Monday morning and realized it was back to W-O-R-K. A cruel trick and undeserved.

On to Santander

From Bilbao I was driven to Santander, a beautiful city right on the ocean in the Bay of Biscay in the Spanish state of Cantabria. The region is astoundingly beautiful with its rocky cliffs and sandy beaches and lovely mixture of old and new architecture.

The food is incredibly good. Mostly seafood and a rich aged ham similar to prosciutto, and delicious wine. I've sent several members of the octopus family down my gullet this week - from sliced bits of the big guys lightly battered and fried for a moment into tender, sweet morsels, to tiny little ones individually stuffed with a light combination of onions and themselves, doused in a black squid ink sauce and served with a mound of rice adorned with stripes of black and red sauces.  

We had lupina (sea bass) on a couple of occasions, cooked very simply and perfectly, unadorned and delicious.  Also merloza (bream) similarly delicately cooked and served simply with potatoes and a ubiquitous asparagus that I am not crazy about. (I generally love asparagus, but this is cooked, served cold, and tastes like it is canned or preserved, tender to the brink of mushiness. It is a favorite here, but not my favorite.) The local ham on the other hand is fantastic - rich and intense, deep maroon red in color - very hearty. It is served cold, sliced very thin, arranged around a plate. You pick up a piece with your fingers and pop it in your mouth and swoon.  And the regional wines are fantastic as well.  I don't have the fancy words used to describe wine; suffice to say it was way good and tasty. Like really good. 

 

The hard part has been the virtual absence of English speakers. In my entire time here, walking miles every day and spending the days with large crowds during the conference, I heard not one American accent or a single conversation in English that I was not involved in. Most locals are not English speakers, quite different from traveling in Italy or France. I've had to use my very poor Spanish skills, unused for more decades than I care to admit, to communicate some of the time. Who knows what I've said - could have been anything - and judging from some of the looks my questions have elicited, it probably was.  However, my wonderful Spanish hosts were quite skilled in English and were gracious and very tolerant of my attempts to practice my limited Spanish, and when I was with them they provided me with every language accommodation possible. I drink a glass of the wonderful local wine to them in gratitude!

 

I've found people in this northern-most part of Spain to be very gracious and mannered, a little bit formal, and very, very beautiful. Most of those I met at this conference are from the Madrid area.  The women are beautifully dressed, quite trim, great hair, carefully made up, really very beautiful in an un-selfconscious way.  Women speak in deep voices and not a one speaks baby talk in that horrid American tradition of cutesy squeaky-voiced child-women. Men, too, are wonderful looking, graceful and gracious. They are very well dressed, they open doors, pull out chairs, and are attentive and gentlemanly in a completely endearing, lovely way. Utterly charming.  Everyone has been great company and I've found that even though I did not understand most of the conversation, it was easy and comfortable to sit and listen, occasionally piping up with some banal comment worthy of an infant (I like fish. The water is beautiful.)

Here is the Palacio de la Magdalena, where the conference was held. It used to be a summer palace for Spanish royalty but now serves as a university building - quite an extraordinary unversity building. It is a long hike up to the palace as it sits out on a promontory at the end of a penninsula. The grounds and beaches on the way to the palace are now used as park area and public beaches where large extended families come and stay the day, picnicing, playing, eating, and enjoying the beautiful coastal waters.

Espana

My trip to Spain was wonderful and difficult. Not the bad kind of difficult, but the outside my comfort zone and challenging and steep learning curve kind of difficult. This was due primarily to my struggle to understand and be understood as English was not widely spoken and even basic communication with cab drivers, hotel people, and waiters was difficult. 

But first the great part - the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao. I took a day before the conference to visit this amazing art museum in Bilbao, about an hour from Santander, where the conference would take place.

The museum itself is a wonder. Designed by crazybrilliant architect, Frank Gehry, it is a masterpiece of form and texture. It is set in the city of Bilbao against a backdrop of rolling hills that are mirrored by the building's voluminous rounded forms. The inside is as fascinating as the outside, with enormous forms set at angles that make for galleries that have no verticals or straight lines and an airy, kinetic feel throughout. It is different from every angle and endlessly fascinating.

But even with all this shape, texture, movement and volume going on, the galleries are perfect places to exhibit art. There were two main exhibits - the sculpture of Juan Munoz and a large exhibit of Surreal objet d'art.

I love Munoz's work. It is amusing, poignant, disturbing, engaging, and I found it almost impossible to keep my hands off the many figures that comprise a single piece. The figures are generally arranged in groups or pairs, completely engaged in some conversation, or laughing or weeping together, concentrating together. Their social interaction is key to the impact of the work. There are insiders and outsiders and in at least one piece, a lone figure leaning against a wall, arms crossed, watching me, the visitor, with much amusement. Loved it.

The Surreal exhibit was equally delightful. They had some wonderful pieces - original ballet custumes of wool jersey in a jester pattern, lots of film footage, a phone with a lobster receiver, wonderful crazy fashion pieces and paintings, just a terrific collection of the nutty things that came out of the Surreal movement.  And also a lot of information on Peggy Guggenheim, who was just a WILD thing and an integral part of the community of artists and dreamers who were the Surrealists. 

But my favorite feature of the museum is the giant sculpture called Puppy, that graces the front of the museum property and keeps watch over the continuing construction in the surrounding streets. Puppy is about 4 stories tall and is entirely covered in fresh growing, blooming flowers, all over, every square inch. 

Bilbao locals find the museum endlessly amusing and call it the sardine tin, an apt description and one Gehry might enjoy. Of course, here in Massachusetts we know Gehry as the architect of the amazing Stata Center at MIT, an astounding building that is the source of endless heated debate.

I'll post about Santander and amazing food of northern Spain next... stay tuned.  If you'd like to see more photos of this trip there is a link on the home page of the blog, in the lower left corner. Enjoy.

Rock Reverence

We visited Halibut Point this weekend - a State Park that includes a former granite quarry, hiking paths, and absolutely fantastic ocean vistas from the eastern-most point of Cape Ann, in Rockport. Winding paths lead you to spots that overlook both the quarry and the ocean beyond, and then to the rocky ledges and tide pools at the ocean's edge.  It is a lovely, natural setting with few signs of the human virus. At this time of year it is lush with spring greenery, wildflowers, an extravagance of poison ivy and honestly, the biggest dandelions I have ever seen. Huge things, reminiscent of Audrey in Little Shop of Horrors. Feed me, Seymour!

We took a different path on the way back, and came to a clearing where visitors have built cairns from the huge selection of granite pieces scattered about, remnants of quarrying.

So what is it about rocks lying about that makes them irresistible to pile into cairns? It is such a human thing to do. Rock cairns are found all around the world and we know that people have always built them, from ancient times. They appear in Greek mythology, on isolated islands, on every continent. They mark paths, summits, burial sites, spiritual places, directions, and just decorate. They must somehow satisfy our need to leave our mark; to indicate humans have passed time here.

On this day, every person walking down this trail stopped to look and then picked up shards of granite and added them to a selected cairn with a kind of reverence, a contribution, a way to connect with those who came before.  Some cairns were simple and tall, reaching only upward. Others were complex and broad, intricate conglomerations of shapes and balance strategies. All were beautiful and somehow very... satisfying.  I was particularly drawn to the ones that seemed precariously balanced and added my contribution to one of these.

I Love New York

Yes, it's true. I love New York in its infinite variety and its ability to transport visitors through time, place, and culture. And here are just two (of the very many) reasons.

The elevator at the Sherry Netherland Hotel. Enter this elevator and you have taken an instant trip into a Renaissance painting. And I do mean INTO the painting. The elevator is small, the light glows amber, and all around are the small painted travelers who have joined you for your journey. And there is an elevator man all dressed up, displaying immaculate white gloves and a desire to assist you in your journey no matter how brief and vertical.

And then there's a stroll down Central Park South from Columbus Circle to Fifth Avenue.

The view to the left is Central Park in all its glory. The horse drawn carriages are lined up awaiting passengers, led by well-fed and exceedingly well-dressed horses. Step into a carriage and I dare you to wipe the grin off your face any time before you step off.  Everything looks beautiful from that vantage point, or hysterically funny if you focus on the end of the horse, and even if it is raining or freezing, the weather is fine. 

Just beyond the iron gates of the Park is The Pond. Walk into the Park, down the gentle slope, and your view of the city disappears. You are transported once again - to an idyllic country setting, natural, unmanicured, unhurried, and quiet. Unbelievably quiet.  If you've never taken a stroll in Central Park... well... you get it.

But back to Central Park South.  If you look away from the Park (good luck with that) you are back in the middle of this fantastic, modern, breathtaking city. To your right are one after another of the most elegant hotels, culminating in the incomparable Park Plaza with its powerful architecture, red carpets, doormen, flags, and its own patterned sidewalk.  The renovation is complete and The Plaza once again graces Central Park South, announcing the arrival of Fifth Avenue and all its treasures.  And we haven't even gotten to restaurants!  That for another day.

New York. You gotta love it.