Bouchercon St Petes The first hour ( or so)

Hold onto your hats.

51 pics. 51 comments

Early AM. Hot. Getting hotter.

Front of camera steamed up and would not unsteam.

Nice steamy effect on the bay.

The park

The bay

On the to do list.

Pretty statues

Is that a catamaran ?

Yer wrang it's boat.

(very old Scottish joke)

Entrance to event hotel

The Vinroy.

Posh.

Stuff isn't nailed down.

Picturesque tower.

Reminded me of James Stewart.

Or Cary Grant.

Here we are!

Not only camera lens steam up

People getting lost

outside ladies loo

Men at work

poolside

Essential water

The hotel does have nice art pieces.

Some people get everywhere

like murder!

People who don't know they are lost yet.

I'm going to write a short story about this painting.

She has a cardigan on....

Abstract  ...crane head and crime writer by ramsay

Snappy!

Two hard working people in a cupboard.

What was going on next door!

Self portrait....after getting lost

I honestly didn't realise I come down a set of stairs.

A seahorse to make Susan feel at home.

Alan bored by the mass of crime writers

It took 4 minutes this time

nine brains here.

Stan... after he' d been to  Cara's room.

Money changed hands

that's all I'm saying.

Lost search parties looking for the folk searching for them

Ladies loos

The Old Man Of The Sea

view out vinroy window

Big poster

Colin, late for event

First panel.

The lobby

Hiding from Jeff seats- not needed this year, sadly.

Is this the motto of Florida.

Local resident

Stork? Crane?

Close up using button  on camera.

Whur's he bin?

Public toilets  St Petes style

Straub Park 

Spot the lizard

The fountains

Caro Ramsay  Jet lagged, no idea what day it is.

Ps  I bet EvKa counted the pics as he read.

Knysna revisited. Again.

Knysna Lagoon and the Heads

It's a tradition that each year during Bouchercon we repost  a previous blog that we liked. This one is from January 2016. Among various things that happened on that visit was the decision to retire to Knysna and to build a house there. Thirty months later that is almost a reality. It's been a slow process with a variety of hiccups along the way, but that's a story for another occasion. This post is more about why I like it here. Like it enough to be here dealing with hiccups instead of at Bouchercon!

House under construction.
The view isn't really like that. It's much better.

So what makes Knysna so special?  That’s very easy to answer.  It’s the lagoon.  It’s beautiful, exiting to the sea through a crevice in the rock-basin called simply The Heads. Not only does the lagoon provide a wonderful scenic feature and a home to all sorts of water sports, but it is also home to the Knysna Oyster.  The canny folk of Knysna have a knack of taking their natural advantages and turning them into commercial advantages.  For many years one would drive onto a small low-lying island in the lagoon –Thesen Island - which had a desultory timber business on it, and the Knysna Oyster Company.  The Knysna Oyster Company was a beacon attracting tourists and locals alike.  At first it consisted of an oyster farm where oysters were cultivated in the lagoon and sold –open or closed – to visitors and local restaurants and hotels.

After some time, a few outside tables were added where you could sit in the sun, enjoy the lagoon and eat your oysters with your own wine.  Then it became a café, then a restaurant, then a landmark … and then it disappeared.

Knysna specializes in rarities.  There are the famous Knysna elephants, by far the rarest of their clan.  Believed extinct for many years, it has now been established that a few still wander deep in the Knysna forests keeping well away from humans.  For visitors who don’t have a few months to invest in trying to find them, an Elephant Park with non-Knysna elephants has been conveniently situated nearby.

Presumably the wedding guests

At Brenton on the sea side of the town, there is a butterfly – the Brenton Blue – which occurs only there.  In common with several other species of Blue, it has a complex relationship with a species of ant.  The caterpillar secretes a sweet substance that the ants enjoy, and in return they protect it and help it with its complex life cycle, even excavating a hole for it to feed on roots and eventually pupate.  Since this is sea front property, the Blue was hardly likely to have been left in peace, but at least an area has been set aside to attempt to preserve the species.  Brenton Blue tours are doing well too.

Then there’s the Knysna Seahorse – the rarest species of seahorse and the only one on the South African coast.  It occurs only in three estuaries along the west Cape coast.  All seahorses are fascinating creatures - see Susan's delightful posts - with their rather languid behavior and charming faces.  Fortunately, they’ve caught the hearts of the people in the Knysna area.  But that brings me back to the disappearing Oyster Company. Thesen Island has become a residential development.  Suddenly this small island, practically at sea level, has been packed with houses.  We are assured that no damage will result to the lagoon or the seahorses.  Just what happens to the effluent from all these new dwellings is best left to the imagination.  The oysters packed up and left, bag and baggage.  But where can the seahorses go?

Thesen Island today

Well, perhaps global warming has one saving grace after all.  Thesen Island will be among the first to go…

Michael-Thursday.

Passport snafu

Ever had your roller bag packed and ready at the front door, boarding pass downloaded with a TSA clearance onto your phone, wallet tucked away, called for a Lyft and felt for your passport. Of course, it's there in your inside pocket as it was five minutes ago. You slip on your shoes, hear the car pull up in front, grab the keys and are out the door. 

At the airport, the TSA line moves quickly,  you move your roller bag along and zip you reach the gate. Next in line to show your downloaded ticket, passport and glad you don't have to take off your shoes. You're thinking about the extra time to grab coffee and then it's 'Next please'.

You're putting the phone down on the bar code scanner with your boarding pass, handing your passport. The agent is taking a longer time than usual. 'Do you have another form of ID?'
Other than my passport? Why? It's current and valid.
'Your passport's expiring in five months,' the agent says.
Ok, but it's valid, right?
Do you have another form of ID?

Thank heavens you do. And that this is a domestic flight. You show the agent your driver's license.
This doesn't seem to be the same name as the ticket, the agent says.

But sir, that's beause....a simple explanation doesn't satisfy him. But you tell him politely, there's my name with the married name as well, all the information is the same. Your voice remains calm. I need to get on the plane.
You'll need to speak with my supervisor.
Then you're shuttled to the side while impatient TSA passengers whisk past you to rush now to their flights.
Finally, the supervisor comes over. Another explantation ensues.
Eventually you start to feel like

And because the supervisor is in a good mood and for whatever reason feels you really can be the person who you say you are, he admonishes 'I'll let it go but renew your passport or you'll have this trouble again and won't be let into foreign countries.'
You shove the roller bag through the machine, grab it on the other side and run, run, run and make the flight as the door is about to close. Forget the coffee.

Cara - Tuesday
 who has an expiring passport and needs to figure this out before flying to Bouchercon in Florida in two days.

The Death of a Cannibal King

Annamaria on Monday

It's a holiday weekend in the United States: Labor Day.  In honor of the many barbecues being enjoyed by me and my fellow American this holiday Monday, I offer this cautionary tale.

Ichoo, the fiercest cannibal king in the jungle, was feared by all explorers who went to Faway Island.  As luck would have it, the only landing spot they could use to gain access to the remote atoll was in front of Ichoo’s thatched hut.

Many potential explorers unfortunately ended up in the king’s stewpot.  The intrepid anthropologist Dr. Niles Source was determined to be the first of his profession to study and write about the last unexamined culture on Earth.  Source decided he might avoid the fate of his perished forerunners by bringing King Ichoo gifts.  The bribes worked.  Soon, His Majesty had many resplendent robes, beautiful shoes, elaborate headgear, and gorgeous frames containing regal images of himself.  Then the canny Doctor began, as a private joke on the gullible king, to bring Ichoo larger and larger stewing caldrons.  Happily for Source, the king pronounced them too beautiful to use.

Ichoo developed a serious lust for luxury goods.  To store all his swag, he added a second story to his dwelling.   At one of Dr. Source' departures, the greedy king warned the anthropologist that on his next landing he must bring a more impressive offering, something really fit for a king.

Dr. Source came back the next time with an elaborate Victorian chair which he declared to be a throne fit for Ichoo.  The king was delighted. On fine days, he would have his lackeys carry the chair outside so he could sit resplendent in front of his hut.  As Source was leaving two weeks later, the king demanded another, even bigger chair on the explorer’s return.

And so it went, with each visit: a chair of carved mahogany, then one with red velvet upholstery, then another brocaded with the royal arms of England, and on and on.  Soon the ground floor of Ichoo’s hut was filled with some of history’s most elaborate chairs.  Finally, Dr. Source arrived with the pièce de résistance.  The back of the chair was taller than Ichoo, taller even than Niles Source, the seat was upholstered with royal purple silk, and the all of the beautifully carved wood was covered  with 18 carat gold leaf.  It shone in the sun like the throne of an all-powerful god.

Ichoo declared that he would never sit in any other chair.  His fellow tribesmen began lining up, hoping to take away the rest of his now distained collection.  But the king did not want anyone but himself to have such luxurious possessions.  He instructed his lackeys to put the rejected chairs on the second floor of his hut.

That night Ichoo’s hut collapsed from all the weight of his possessions, killing the greedy king.

The moral of the story is….

The Lanterns of Kasuga Shrine

--Susan, every other Sunday

Kasuga Taisha (Kasuga Shrine) is one of Japan's most important Shintō holy sites. The shrine was established in 768, in what is now Nara Park (located in the city and prefecture of Nara, Japan).

Most people know Nara Park for its sacred, and friendly, deer.

The hondō, or main worship hall, enshrines four deities: Takemikazuchi-no-mikoto, Futunushi-no-mikoto, Amenokoyane-no-mikoto, and Himegami. The deities have Buddhist analogues as well, and are worshipped by priests from nearby Buddhist temples as well as the Shintō priests who manage Kasuga Shrine.

The hondō at Kasuga Taisha

Among other important religious and cultural features, Kasuga Taisha is known for the thousands of bronze and stone lanterns that line the temple's halls and paths. (The total number exceeds 3,000.) Each of the lanterns represents a donation to the shrine--a practice that continues to this day.

Rows of toro (standing lanterns) near the worship hall.

The oldest lanterns are almost a thousand years old:

Despite the moss, this lantern is only about 400 years old.

During the medieval period, only samurai and the wealthiest merchants could afford to donate an entire lantern. Many famous samurai, including members of the Tokugawa shogunate and other daimyō (samurai lords) donated lanterns--which still stand at the shrine today.

Some of the lanterns donated by famous dudes.

However, groups of common people also joined together to donate a toro as a group. This one was donated by a group of 800 different people who pooled their money to pay for this single lantern.

The lantern on the right was donated by 800 individuals, working together.

Kasuga Taisha's hanging lanterns are made of bronze. They start out golden:

Recently-donated lanterns. Each represents a donation of 2 million Japanese yen.

...but slowly acquire a greenish-grey patina, a process that takes 40-50 years.

Older, but no less beautiful.

Until the end of the Meiji Era (July 30, 1912) the lanterns were lit every night at sunset. Today, they're lit only twice a year: on December 31, and during the August Obon celebration, when the veil between this world and the next grows thin, and the spirits of the dead return to visit (and hopefully bless) the living.

Watching for the ancestors, or just waiting for treats? Hard to tell.

Since most visitors won't be able to return for the lighting ceremony, Kasuga Taisha maintains a "dark room" filled with illuminated lanterns, so visitors can experience a piece of the lantern ceremony at any time of day, every day of the year.

I love Japanese lanterns--their five-tiered shape represents the Buddhist elements (earth, water, fire, air, and spirit), and at night they give a lovely, gentle light. At Kasuga Taisha, they also pay homage to centuries of faith in the deities that protect Japan and the Japanese people, which makes them even lovelier.

If you find yourself in Nara, by all means, go see the deer--but don't forget to visit Kasuga Shrine and its famous lanterns too.

Guest Blogger: Neil Plakcy--A Floridian in Venice

Jeff—Saturday

[NEWS FLASH:  On behalf of all of us at Murder is Everywhere, I'm honored to announce we've just learned that MIE has been selected by the panel at Feedspot as among the Top 50 Crime Novel Blogs on the web!  Thank you very much Feedspot!  Now back to the stuff that earned us that award.]

For those of you who wonder what authors go through to infuse their stories with details that take readers to places with which they may be no more familiar than are you, here is how Neil Plakcy worked his magic with his just released, Survival is a Dying Art.

Neil has written or edited over three-dozen novels and short stories in mystery, romance and erotica. To research the Angus Green FBI thrillers, including The Next One Will Kill You, Nobody Rides for Free, and Survival is a Dying Art, he participated in the FBI’s sixteen-week citizen’s academy, practiced at a shooting range, and visited numerous gay bars in Fort Lauderdale. (He says it was research.)

He is a professor of English at Broward College in South Florida, and has been a construction manager, a computer game producer, and a web developer – all experiences he uses in his fiction. His website is www.mahubooks.com.

Welcome, Neil!

Fort Lauderdale has been called “the Venice of America,” so it seemed appropriate to me to send my Lauderdale-based protagonist to Venice, Italy, in the third book in the Angus Green FBI thriller series, Survival is a Dying Art.

In book one of the series, I set up that Angus’s college student brother is hoping to spend a summer studying in Italy, and Angus is doing what he can to help fund this effort. So when I came to write the third book, I knew that I wanted to send Angus to Italy at some point to bring his brother on stage.

How to decide on an Italian setting, though? I’ve devoured Donna Leon’s Guido Brunetti series, set in Venice, and have great memories of my visit there many years ago. At that time, I took a ride on a boat called Il Burchiello, up the Brenta Canal to Padua, passing and stopping at many of the Venetian villas of the Riviera del Brenta. It was a fabulous trip, and I met a family on it who were descended from Italian Jews. That began a long interest in that community, which flourished for centuries in Venice and its environs, only to be wiped out by the Holocaust.

Piazza San Marco from the lagoon

As I began to figure out the plot of the book, I decided to send Angus to Venice to retrieve a painting stolen by the Nazis from a gay Italian Jew. Italian Jews were subject to racial laws starting in 1938, when Mussolini came to power, but it wasn’t until September 1943 that organized deportations to concentration camps began. During those five years, many Italian Jews thought that because they were Italians first, they would be safe, or that at least the Pope would protect them from the Nazis.

Plaque honoring dead Jews

That’s why art collector Ugo Sena didn’t leave the country to join his brother in the United States. When Ugo was sent to Auschwitz, his collection of paintings and sculptures was confiscated and stored in a nearby church, Beata Vergine della Laguna, the Blessed Virgin of the Lagoon, on the Calle Ghetto Vecchio in Venice.

The crown jewel of Ugo’s collection is a painting called Ragazzi al Mare, “Young Men by the Sea,” by a painter named Mauricio Fabre. Fabre was a member of the movement called the Macchiaioli, a group of former soldiers from the Risorgimento who wanted to restore Italy’s prominence in the art world.

Ugo, the church, Fabre and his painting are all fictional, but doing the research on these artists, and on what Ugo’s life was like before the Holocaust, helped bring the book alive to me. The connection to Fort Lauderdale, and Angus Green, is Ugo’s nephew, a gay retiree, who uses the Internet to hunt for this lost painting. The search brings him in contact with a man of interest to the FBI.

 

Angus has a two-pronged interest. He wants to return the painting to its rightful owner, in the process “giving the finger to the Nazis,” and he also wants to use that quest to bring him into the orbit of this man of interest, who has fingers in the smuggling of gold watches from Turkey (a source of great quality fakes) and perhaps even convincing desperate refugees to embark on perilous journeys to freedom.

It’s a lot to cram into a thriller, of course, but I loved sending Angus to Italy and seeing Venice through his eyes and those of his younger brother. I hope readers will feel the same way. And for an extra bit of oomph, there's a subplot about a set of solid gold brothel tokens (also called spintriae) that are being smuggled into the United States.

—Neil, in for Jeff