The Year of the Wood Snake is Coming...

Ovidia--every other Tuesday

Is anyone else finding it difficult to look forward to this new year?

This is normally my favourite time of year--cool rainy weather with occasional thunderstorms (rain is predicted for the whole of next week here in Singapore) and I really love the rain.

People are back at work and children back in school and the island is gearing up for the Chinese New Year.
This is a much bigger event (‘bigger’ as in more offices, stores and restaurants close for the duration) than Christmas or New Year, and there are decorations, special offers and sweet treats everywhere.

But this year it feels like there’s more apprehension than anticipation in the air.

‘Next year is going to be terrible. So terrible,’ one of my neighbours told me the other day.

‘What’s going to be terrible?’ I asked.

‘Everything!’ He said. ‘Look at America! Look at Israel! Look at Russia! Just looking for things to attack! And you know what? It’s just going to get worse! You know what year it's going to be, right? So wait and see!’

I kind of know what he means.

The coming year, according to the Chinese zodiac, will be the Year of the Wood Snake.

The year of the Wood Snake has traditionally been marked by warlords assessing their weapons caches.

The last time the Wood Snake appeared in the zodiac cycle was in 1965—the year American soldiers landed in Vietnam to start the Vietnam War.

Right now I’m almost afraid to plan or hope for anything beyond good health and survival in the coming year!

But thinking like my neighbour doesn’t do any good, does it? I guess at least he can say, ‘See? I told you!’ if things go badly.

But I would still rather hope and be disappointed than not hope at all!

On the bright side, snakes symbolise unostentatious wisdom, transformation and healing, meaning the snake year is a good time for growth and reinvention, just as a snake sheds its old skin and emerges anew.

Combined with the Wood element of assessing, calculating and building, embracing the Wood Snake Year might mean remembering that in times of uncertainty, just sustaining and focusing on recovery and renewal might be counted a victory.

And on the bright side, in 1965 The Sound of Music premiered and Richard Feynman won the Nobel Prize for Physics, so things weren't all bad!

I’m reading Salman Rushdie’s Knife right now, and the courage in his decision to live fully after that horrific attack is a lesson I hope to remember; resilience isn’t just about surviving, we have to evolve into our new selves and bodies.

I realise that for me, it all comes down to not knowing what to expect in our near future.

Was it Einstein who said, "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results"?

And also,

"Naïveté is doing the same thing over and over, and always expecting the same result"

The problem it seems, is in the expectations. So maybe not knowing what to expect is a good thing.

I guess all this is to explain why I don't have any great plans or resolutions for the coming year. I'll try to write three hours a day and work out three hours a week and see how things go.

But also, I want to remember Tahar Djaout, who said, “Silence is death, and you, if you talk, you die, and if you remain silent, you die. So, speak out and die.”

Tahar Djaout was an Algerian journalist, poet, and fiction writer who was born 11th January 1954. He would have turned 71 years old this year, had he not been assassinated in 1993.

Part of me feels that just because I'm still alive, the least I can do is say this small thing: remember this man who cried out for human rights in his novels and is no longer here to do so.

And if you're reading this, may you have a good, strong, safe year. May we all hold on to hope and support each other.

This Past Week

Annamaria on Monday

Like a lot of the world, I have been keping track of headlines, but since I have decided to limit my news consumption, this past week, instead of watching it on TV, I kept in touch with my friends in LA to make sure they were okay.  They are sad for what is happening to the their city and their friends, but my loved ones, I am grateful to say, are okay.

I have also paid close attention to the eulogies for Jimmy Carter, since I have been a huge admirer of his presidency and his charitable work.  Other than that, I have - I am delighted to say, spent a lot of time working on Vera&Tolliver #5, which is still in its first draft stage.

Here is a report on what else I have been up to this week. Unfortunately, it will not read the way I wanted it to.  With great difficulty, I lined up all my pictures in chronological order.  It wasn't until I uploaded them that I remembered, or to be honest was reminded, that Blogger much prefers randomness to orderliness.  So here is my week in random order.  I have already spent more than an hour getting the photos onto my laptop from my phone.  You see, the tech gods have refused to believe that I have permission to share anything that is on my phone with my computer. And vice-versa. “You do not have permission to…” the gods say to many things I think ought to be easy  

On the other hand, things for me are not all bad.  For instance, lucky me, here is where I sit when I work here in Florence:

Once in a while, sitting in that chair I am distracted by something out on the terrace.  A couple of days ago, it was a bird.  It was obviously a pigeon, but not of the sort one ordinarily sees here in the historic center.  This bird was aristocratic in his looks and demeanor, walking slowly and erectly.  I took this shot and looked him up in my bird app. Uncommon creature that he is, he is called a Common Wood Pigeon.  I shared the photo with Stan and told him that, according to the app, Italy is not his territory.  Stan declared that he is a tourist!    

Chuch of Ognisanti:

Giotto's crucifix, beautifully restored

Botticelli's Fresco of Saint Augustin

The nave of this jewel. 

Last week I reposted a blog about the feast of The Epiphany, with photos of the traditional parade of years past.  This year the Florentines decided to forgo that Renaissance costumes and the band.  Instead, we had a visit from La Befana, who appeared on the roof of the Palazzo Vecchio, descended in a huge cherry picker, and distributed lots and lots of candies and little gifts to the children who crowded the square.

It wasn't until I got close that I learned that La Befana was being played by a man with a mustache and beard.  I think that must have had something to do with the cherry picker trip.  But I wonder what the little children made of the female witch with a beard.

I really wish this last section of the blog was chronological, so please take a look at all the pictures, and then I will explain.

These are photos taken during a visit to the new costume and fashion museum in Palazzo Pitti. The building itself is extraordinary. To get an idea of its massive size, take a look at the photo just above.  See that doorway just about in the middle that shows up as black. A close-up of that is in the next picture above. 

The clothing from the past on display in the museum can certainly be seen as works of art.  The workmanship and designs are beautiful and very impressive.  But this visit confirmed an idea that I have been pondering for sometime now.  It seems to me that women's fashion, and the expectation of what a well-dressed women looks like, are part of the subjugation of the female sex. When a man walks into a room, a man walks into a room.  But when a woman walks into a room, people are supposed to see a dress walking into a room.  Yes, I am sorry to say, and I apologise for this, that my politics made the enjoyment of the art of women's clothing design less than it could otherwise have been.

I apologise also for the sloppy way this blog will look to MIE readers.  I have waisted way too much time trying left-justify the text.  No dice!

It is now 5:45 in the evening, and I have been at this since 10 o'clock this morning.  I hope that you will believe me that only part of the problem is my own capability to do a perfect job.  To me, at least, a lot of the blame goes to the designers of Blogger.  And a lot is because of the incredibly widespread increasing complication of technology in general. They are constantly changing apps, making what used to be fairly simple, too me anyway, incomprehensible.

   

Happy New Year and Humbug, Redux

 

 

Jeff—Saturday

 

Eight years ago almost to the day, I published this post. I'd planned on republishing it last week, but President Carter's passing inspired me to write something else. Something very personal to me.  

 

This week I'm running that [slightly] updated post from eight years ago, for it touches upon matters I believe are still very personal to many, if not all of us. Remarkable to me, is how little has changed since its original publication.  

 

Without further ado (or adulation):

Perhaps this is the first time, at least since World War II, that what we know is being challenged so fiercely. Given that Donald Trump is particularly unpredictable and the US is divided, that the Middle East and North Africa are immersed in violence and destruction, that Turkey is on the brink of chaos, that the terrorism of Islamic extremists is creating fear in both East and West, that the refugee and migration issue is taking on huge dimensions, that populism, nationalism and xenophobia are gaining ground everywhere, that Europe is facing the threat of disintegration, and Ukraine has been transformed into a hub of major tension, any kind of prediction regarding the shape of the world at the end of 2017 [2025] would be extremely risky.

Those are not my words, they’re written by a Greek journalist, Angelos Stangos, and appeared this week  [January 2017] in Ekathimeri, Greece’s equivalent of The New York Times.

They do, though, rather succinctly sum up feelings I’m hearing expressed by just about everyone I know on this planet. Yes, there are some blissful souls who think the world is doing wonderfully as indicated by the Dow nuzzling 20,000 [42,500 today] and others who see nothing but darkness ahead. 

Personally, I see the Steelers in the playoffs.  Though only the bookies may know for how long.

Do I sound uncaring or delusional?  Well, to some for sure. But take a look at it from my perspective.  I was a biology major when modern DNA research was its infancy, a chemistry minor when the periodic table was a dozen or so short of its elements, and a political science major when my professor assured us that the world would not come to an end in a galactic battle between the US and USSR, but in the Middle East (He never addressed the odds of it being a battle between the US and Russia over the Middle East…but stay tuned).

The bottom line to all of this is that I simply no longer have the time or inclination to drive myself nuts over the direction our world is taking. Yes, I have opinions and I express them, but then it’s on to what really matters, my family and friends, my writing, my flute playing…and anything else over which I have a modicum of control or influence.

Were I younger, I’d be back on those parapets grass-rootsing for change with all my heart. But for now, all I have is an interest in cheering on those willing to wage the good fight in the trenches. And if they don’t wish to do so…it’s their choice for it’s their future. I’m living my future, and enjoying it. And I expect to continue doing so no matter how much the bastards out there—elected and otherwise—might try to knock down my spirits.

May 8, 1970---look it up.

Happy New Year.

—Jeff

Too much weather altogether

In 1987 I had just qualified and was  attending a graduation ball at a very posh hotel in Chester. My best friend from university lived close to Chester and her fiancé had driven us  into the town for the do. It was a long frock and black tie  type of affair.

That was on the 15th of October 1987.

I remember the car going past the ICI complex at Runcorn, an industrial plant that runs along the side of the motorway seemingly for miles. I thought the Roots/ Chrysler/ Peugeot car plant at Linwood was big but Runcorn ICI was on  another scale all together.

There had been some chat  on the BBC News that night that evening because an  amateur weather watcher had noted something odd brewing in the Bay of Biscay and moving NE towards the channel. The BBC weather person. Michael Fish told the nation not to worry because there was nothing to worry.

That was  The Great Storm of 1987. Hurricane force winds battered northern France and the South Coast of England, the highest gust was about 120 mph. 22 people died. £7 billion worth of damage.

Rumours had got to us after the meal at the ball, and the designated driver said, ‘You know guys, the weather’s getting a bit rough. I’d like to head off home.’ In Scotland we’d call this ‘Blowin’ a hoolie.’

As we drove past Runcorn ICI, the flames that burn off the excess gases where horizontal. Simon was fighting the steering to keep the vehicle straight on the road – and it was a Land Rover Defender.

Scotland got off relatively free that time. We tend to have our gales in January or February and that was quite a predictable pattern for a long time. But in the last few years the high winds have been more prominent 200  miles to the south.

Because of the  BBC's initial denial of the weather brewing in the Bay Of Biscay, based on the readings of the British weather centre in London, they were forced into investing  in better equipment  for weather prediction

In 1987, the death toll was very light. The storm reached its peak around 2:00 in the morning when most people were indoors. Shanklin pier on the Isle of Wight was broken into three pieces by the force of the waves. A weird side story is that wild boar escaped and they have since spread and have established populations across the South of England. This fact has been the  subject of some good crime drama on the telly, as wild boar are highly intelligent and will eat anything put in their path…which is useful!

What happens now, with all this new technology for weather forecasting is that Scotland lives in a constant state of weather warning. It’s  so bad that nobody pays any attention anymore. The  constant warnings of gale force winds means the winds peak 35 kilometres per hour. Warnings about rainfall means wear a hat and wellies.  Last night was an extreme cold weather warning because, for an hour, it went down to -7 overnight. It’s now 8 am and it’s up at 0.

I’m sure that when we do really need a weather warning, people will  ignore it.

                                       

                                             The Leaning Wall Of Elderslie

I live in a very old house, high from ground level to the apex of the roof. The house is at the top of a hill so no flooding for me. A  previous owner planted 3 trees too close to the building. They are much taller than the house. They are about a metre apart from each other.  They have already broken the wall the Victorian wall and the driveway looks like the Grand National with the roots breaking through the concrete. They are called the three amigos. And they are beautiful,  verdant and plush. Being  right at the top of the road, a lot of people comment on them. We’ve already taken the wall down because it was a hazard to those walking past. In eight weeks a third is coming off the top of the trees as they can’t be trusted any longer. I've warned the squirrels and all the birds that they're going to have to relocate. Nobody's looking forward to it but the chances of one of those trees coming down, blocking the road and going through the roof of the neighbours house  is now too high to be comfortable. Even being on high ground is no protection from the rainfall – the ground is sodden. The passion for decking and concreting garden prevents run off ( we’ve kept our land as grass to help the situation) and the soil is no longer anchoring the root system. So the trees are on borrowed time.

                                           

(This is a weird picture as the trees don't look that big. I think I might have pressed a button on the phone that I shouldn't have. If they came down, they would put the roof through on that house visible at the right hand side.)

Considering  what's going on in the world, we are really very lucky to have a climate that is constantly damp. It’s very difficult to set fire to our flora. It just doesn't happen unless there's a usually dry summer and that doesn't happen in the West Coast. Reading the posts of some of you, and those on social media I can’t get my mind round what it might be like.

The BBC has said that the wind in LA is getting up again, so it looks like the situation will continue for a while  yet.

 

Go Bag

Wendall -- every other Thursday

I am writing this on battery power on the morning of January 8th from Los Angeles, much of which is currently on fire. So today’s post will be brief.

 

 

A typical morning view from our balcony

 

On my walk yesterday morning, before the winds started.

 

I’ve lived here since 1986 through the Northridge quake— when the 10 Freeway collapsed— and through droughts and floods and brush fires, but I have never seen anything like this.

 

Current fires in LA County and surrounding.

 

Some of the smoke from the fires as seen from our balcony this morning.

 

Almost all of the westside of the city is under evacuation orders, as are many of the suburbs around Pasadena. Roads and highways all over the city are closed. The sky across from our apartment is almost black. 

 

The smoke a bit later. 

A bit later.

 

 

 

While I'm writing.

Yesterday, I knew there was a high chance we’d lose power because of the wind. Because we live in the “flats,” and not in a brush fire region, I thought we were fairly safe from high fire danger. I was wrong. Last night, the transformer that sits about 20 feet from our apartment building exploded while I was teaching a class on Zoom.

 

The culprits--the transformer and tree that caught fire last night, seen from our balcony.

 

I heard two loud explosions and everything went black. I looked out to see that the transformer and the tree beside it were on fire. The tree was sending embers onto our balcony, our shrubs, and most terrifyingly, our roof via the 50mph winds.

 

It took seven tries to get through to 911, but we were unbelievably lucky to have the Fire Department show up, handle the fire, check our building, and frankly, save our asses. Especially since one of the firefighters said as he left, “The city is falling apart.”

 

First responders in the lot across from our building. We are so grateful for them.

 

We were, and are, incredibly lucky. All I can think of is all of those who’ve suffered so many natural disasters in the last year, from western North Carolina to Florida, India, China, etc. and those fleeing for their lives in war zones across the world. I try to imagine what it must be like to leave with a “go bag,” and come back to nothing. Or never be able even to return.

 

What can anyone possibly put in that bag that will make up for losing everything?

 

None of us are exempt from the chance of disaster. So, here’s hoping all of us will continue to donate to those in need and that people who have lost so much can find the strength to keep going.

 

I love LA. It’s a tough city. At the risk of being stupidly sappy, let’s hope we all keep gratitude and compassion in our go bags, along with our passports and prescriptions.

 

~Wendall

Hellfire

 Wed--Kwei

With Southern California engulfed in flames, some close to my home in Pasadena, I didn't have much time to post, but I captured a few scenes photographically. Where I am in Pasadena at the moment, it doesn't look like we will need to evacuate, but in stark irony, the area where my recently sold home is dangerously close to the Eaton Fire, and if I was still living there, I would have been under evacuation order.

This once-in-a-hundred-year event is fueled by tinder-dry conditions (rainfall has been 0.2 inches for the region this season) and the powerful hurricane-force Santa Ana Winds, immortalized in the masterpiece Chinatown starring Jack Nicholson and Faye Dunaway. Buoyed by the wind, embers may travel miles before landing on a house or dry vegetation. This partly explains the apparent randomness of the fire in some neighborhoods.

Dark, smoky horizon east of me 

Downed trees from the wind

The apocalyptic area of the Eaton Fire in Altadena that you see on TV

This home is smoldering, while the structure next door is untouched

Hoping for better news tomorrow morning. It has been a traumatic time for many in SoCal. Not to be too cynical, but boy, 2025 hasn't started out too well!

Epiphany in Florence

Annamaria on Monday

Since the Feast of the Epiphany falls on Monday this Year, I am taking license to rerun a previous post on the subject.  Here is what I and my friends in Florence will be celebrating. 

January 6^th, the twelfth day of Christmas, is the traditional end of holiday celebrations in Italy.  These days, many Italians call the day by the name of the Christmas witch.

Santa Claus has taken over the role of delivering Christmas gifts in the rest of the world, but though the old man from the North Pole can be seen hereabouts, so also can the traditional Italian bringer of gifts—La Befana.

In Italian folklore, La Befana, flying on a broom, comes down the chimney and brings good children candies, fruits, and little gifts and bad children lumps of coal.  These days—Italians being a child-friendly race—the lumps of coal are actually very dark caramels.

The name La Befana is thought to be a corruption of the word “epiphania,” the name for the feast commemorating the visit of the three kings to the infant Jesus.  Those oriental visitors brought the newborn baby gifts.  And their legend figures in the lore of La Befana.  There are many version of her connection with the wise men’s journey to the babe in Bethlehem.  My favorite has her a loving mother whose child has died.  Following the star leading them to Jesus, the kings from the east pass her way.  Mad with grief, on hearing of the child they seek, she imagines that he is her son.  She too goes with gifts for the child.  Delighted to receive her, the infant Jesus gives her a gift in return.  She will be the mother of every child in Italy.  On the eve of January 6^th every year, she goes to every house where there is a child and leaves gifts.  Like a good mother, she rewards the good children with sweets and admonishes the bad ones with lumps of coal.

Anthropologists trace the legend of La Befana back to new-year pagan celebrations of ancient Rome, during which gifts were exchanged and fertility and agriculture celebrated.  As you can imagine, those New Year’s feasts had a licentious and raucous character.  Here is Ottorino Respighi’s musical portrayal of the modern celebration in the Piazza Navona in which you will hear echoes of those riotous Romans of old.  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GsLj3wlycPw

Detail of Gozzoli's gorgeous Adoration of the Magi in the Palazzo Medici-Ricardi

Here in Florence, the city celebrates La Befana with a parade in Renaissance costume.

I celebrated with friends at lunch in my favorite restaurant in the world.  Tortino ai carciofi, osso buco alla fiorentina, pera carmelatta.  EXQUISITE! 

 

The elegant gentleman in this picture, I am so sorry to have to say, has since left us. He took great pride in his native city and taught me a great deal about it.  Ti manco, Marcello.