Think out-of-date bed-and-breakfasts are a thing of the past? Not in the British Isles! "The old inn is a very living factor indeed in the scheme of modern existence. Attracted by its ineffable charm, thousands habitually resort thither for lodging or refreshments, and most innkeepers are fully aware of the substantial advantage they derive by preserving in their premises all the essentials of ancient character" (p. 261, "Visits to the Old Inns of England: Historic Homes of Hospitality for the Wayfarer Dot the Length and Breadth of the Kingdom," National Geographic Magazine, March, 1931, author: Harold Donaldson Eberlein).
Mr. Eberlein also recommends "the taverns and roadside alehouses. These have a set of characteristics and usages all their own. . .Time and again you will chance upon a bit of history or romance and find the local associations with some famous personage proudly treasured by the countryfolk" (p. 262). For sure, England is overflowing with history. The British savor and preserve every person, battle, castle, costume, and accounts of them all.
I personally love all the names of the English towns, duplicates of which many are found in our states - Ludlow, Norfolk, Paradise, Portsmouth, Worcester, London, and on and on. Some of the English inns have been in business more than 500 years. "Should you chance to visit Saffron Walden and put up at the Rose and Crown, you will be reminded that, almost beyond doubt, Shakespeare stayed here when he visited the town with his company of players in 1607" (p. 268).
The town of Shrewsbury was mentioned. Daughter #7, Marie, and I visited there on our visit to Great Britain in November of 2008. The occasion was Remembrance Day, November 11, to attend the service for my nephew, Justin, formerly in the United States Navy, then a member of the Irish Regiment of the Royal British Army, killed in Afghanistan September 4th. Remembrance Day is very big in the British Isles! Everyone in their country wears red poppies in remembrance of all of their serrvicemen and women who gave their lives for their country.
After being tourists in London for several days, Marie and I took the train to Shrewsbury. There we were met by a Royal British Army Sergeant who kindly drove us to Rosehill Manor Hotel, near the town of Tern Hill. After Marie and I freshened up, he took us to the guest house in the Tern Hill Army installation to visit with my brother Don, sister-in-law, Kathleen, Justin's widow, Velma, Velma's parents from Lithuania, and other relatives. Although we were very sad about Justin, it was wonderful to see each other.
Marie and I spent a lovely night at Rosehill Manor. We were the only guests and felt very pampered. It was very quiet. Marie had never seen a shower with water heated at the source. The inn was large and had an echo. The next morning at breakfast, the owner asked us, "What do you want to eat?" We had expected to perhaps see a menu and make a choice but we could order anything. I would like to stay there again, in warmer weather, and take advantage of their patio and the outside view.
The food in England is outstanding! Mr. Eberlein notes, "Is it any wonder that some of one's forbears had the gout?" (p. 282). I could get used to tea time every day!
"One might go on indefinitely telling of the old inns of England, dwelling on their associations, and describing their numberless allurements. The variety they afford is practically endless. The only sameness they all share is in the spell they exert, once you come in sight of them or cross their thresholds" (p. 285). I couldn't agree more!
Please see this blog, Friday, August 9, 2013, "Now to London," for more about our trip and several of our photos. Rosehill Manor may be viewed at www.rosehillmanorhotel.co.uk.
Saturday, November 30, 2013
Friday, November 29, 2013
My First Safari: Cameroun
"It is a gorgeous country. My wife and I traveled continuously there for nearly half a year, and I know no better way to describe it than as and how we saw it" (p. 225, "The Mandate of Cameroun.: A Vast African Territory Ruled by Petty Sultans Under French Sway," National Geographic Magazine, February, 1931, by John W. Vandercook). The author has already interested us in this country!
Cameroun, in Mr. Vandercook's words, "is a vast territory that lies at the inner corner of the Gulf of guinea, just where West Africa becomes Equatorial Africa. It touches the sea for a distance of about 125 miles, and then fans out gigantically to reach the Sahara to the north, the Oubangui River to the east, and Gabon colony at its lower boundary" (p. 225).
Douala is the largest city in Cameroun. It "will never be proud of its climate. In the dry season it is hot, breathless beyond belief" (p. 227).
Mr. & Mrs. Vandercook travel north by train through the great equatorial forest. "Occasionally the forest breaks and the train passes plantations of tobacco, banana, palm oil, and cacao" (p. 229).
An ever-present danger was the presence of mosquitoes (carriers of malaria and yellow-fever), and the tsetse fly (carrier of sleeping sickness). One time two years ago in my nursing career, I cared for a patient who declined the medicine to prevent malaria and came back from Africa with malaria. She needed an unprecidented three dialysis treatments in one day. It was the only time our nephrologists stayed with the patient during the entire treatment. In 1931, huge nets around beds at night was the only prevention for this terrible disease.
The train climbed higher and reached Nkongsamba, then the pair of travelers used a car on the plateau. "Dominating the mood of the view is that sense of utter solitude one feels so powerfully in central Africa, of timelessness and emptiness" (p. 237).
Foumban is the next city of the road north. Njoya is the sultan. He has no standing army, but all subchiefs "and their male relatives ride and bear arms. . .He could assemble 200 mounted soldiers very quickly" (p. 239). Njoya has a harem of 200 wives.
Mr. Vandercook approved of Foumban: "one has an immediate impression of order, prosperity, civilization" (p. 240). Sultan Njoya keeps a museum with "carving, bronzes, spears, beadwork, brass jewelry, embroideries, and textile. . .because he admires them and because he takes pride in every tradition of his people" (p. 246).
Continuing the journey, "Beyond Foumban, if one wants to go beyond, there is but one way of traveling - on foot. . .Everything, of course, with the single exception of food, must be carried" (p. 246). "The path, a beaten dirt track from a foot to six feet wide, is clear and has no rivals and no forks" (p. 247).
On the trail the author enjoyed lowland groves with birds and butterflies, and long-tailed monkeys. "Now and then. . .the caravan meets a cattle herder, accompanied by anywhere from a dozen to 5,000 herd of the long-horned zebu" (p. 251).
"In only one particular is the plateau disappointing - in the scarcity, except for the zebu, of visible game. Animals are there, but one doesn't unless extraordinarily fortunate, see them. Every early morning the path is muddied with the treads of lions, leopards, hyenas, and sometimes great anubis baboons, but they have vanished witrh the coming of day . . . in the six-foot grass" (p. 251).
When fordiing streams, everyone had to look out for crocodiles. Agricultural methods were crude and primitive. The author noticed that the few automobiles and roads seemed to have no effect at all on the natives. The country was ruled by the French. With the presence of the Sultans, I'm not sure what the French rulers did. North to this country was a smaller "German Cameroun."
Mr. Vandercook felt like Cameroun had vast potential: "Sooner or later, the plateau will be a market garden of the world" (p. 259). He was saddened by the poor health of the people: "The vast majority of them are sick. Yaws, malaria, rickets, elephantiasis, or dengue, is in the blood of nearly every one, and, above all, sleeping sickness" (p. 260).
Yet hospitals were making impressive iinroads into combatting the diseases. Mr. Vandercook holds great hope, "The resources are there and the world wills that they be developed. No colony on the West AFrican coast has more varied possibilities. It is logical to think that what is now so little known will become eventually commonplace" (p. 260).
(My first safari!)
Cameroun, in Mr. Vandercook's words, "is a vast territory that lies at the inner corner of the Gulf of guinea, just where West Africa becomes Equatorial Africa. It touches the sea for a distance of about 125 miles, and then fans out gigantically to reach the Sahara to the north, the Oubangui River to the east, and Gabon colony at its lower boundary" (p. 225).
Douala is the largest city in Cameroun. It "will never be proud of its climate. In the dry season it is hot, breathless beyond belief" (p. 227).
Mr. & Mrs. Vandercook travel north by train through the great equatorial forest. "Occasionally the forest breaks and the train passes plantations of tobacco, banana, palm oil, and cacao" (p. 229).
An ever-present danger was the presence of mosquitoes (carriers of malaria and yellow-fever), and the tsetse fly (carrier of sleeping sickness). One time two years ago in my nursing career, I cared for a patient who declined the medicine to prevent malaria and came back from Africa with malaria. She needed an unprecidented three dialysis treatments in one day. It was the only time our nephrologists stayed with the patient during the entire treatment. In 1931, huge nets around beds at night was the only prevention for this terrible disease.
The train climbed higher and reached Nkongsamba, then the pair of travelers used a car on the plateau. "Dominating the mood of the view is that sense of utter solitude one feels so powerfully in central Africa, of timelessness and emptiness" (p. 237).
Foumban is the next city of the road north. Njoya is the sultan. He has no standing army, but all subchiefs "and their male relatives ride and bear arms. . .He could assemble 200 mounted soldiers very quickly" (p. 239). Njoya has a harem of 200 wives.
Mr. Vandercook approved of Foumban: "one has an immediate impression of order, prosperity, civilization" (p. 240). Sultan Njoya keeps a museum with "carving, bronzes, spears, beadwork, brass jewelry, embroideries, and textile. . .because he admires them and because he takes pride in every tradition of his people" (p. 246).
Continuing the journey, "Beyond Foumban, if one wants to go beyond, there is but one way of traveling - on foot. . .Everything, of course, with the single exception of food, must be carried" (p. 246). "The path, a beaten dirt track from a foot to six feet wide, is clear and has no rivals and no forks" (p. 247).
On the trail the author enjoyed lowland groves with birds and butterflies, and long-tailed monkeys. "Now and then. . .the caravan meets a cattle herder, accompanied by anywhere from a dozen to 5,000 herd of the long-horned zebu" (p. 251).
"In only one particular is the plateau disappointing - in the scarcity, except for the zebu, of visible game. Animals are there, but one doesn't unless extraordinarily fortunate, see them. Every early morning the path is muddied with the treads of lions, leopards, hyenas, and sometimes great anubis baboons, but they have vanished witrh the coming of day . . . in the six-foot grass" (p. 251).
When fordiing streams, everyone had to look out for crocodiles. Agricultural methods were crude and primitive. The author noticed that the few automobiles and roads seemed to have no effect at all on the natives. The country was ruled by the French. With the presence of the Sultans, I'm not sure what the French rulers did. North to this country was a smaller "German Cameroun."
Mr. Vandercook felt like Cameroun had vast potential: "Sooner or later, the plateau will be a market garden of the world" (p. 259). He was saddened by the poor health of the people: "The vast majority of them are sick. Yaws, malaria, rickets, elephantiasis, or dengue, is in the blood of nearly every one, and, above all, sleeping sickness" (p. 260).
Yet hospitals were making impressive iinroads into combatting the diseases. Mr. Vandercook holds great hope, "The resources are there and the world wills that they be developed. No colony on the West AFrican coast has more varied possibilities. It is logical to think that what is now so little known will become eventually commonplace" (p. 260).
(My first safari!)
Thursday, November 28, 2013
A Sailing Ship Journey
Today we have the opportunity to compare sailing around The Two major Capes in the world: The Cape of Good Hope, around the southern tip of the African continent, and Cape Horn, around the South American continent's southernmost areas. In the November, 1927, National Geographic Magazine article, we joined Vasco da Gama in 1497 on a trip from Portugal sailing around the Cape of Good Hope to India (please see this blog, Monday, July 1, 2013, "Another Faraway Adventure Begins!").
Mr. A.J. Villiers writes of his sailing adventures in "Rounding the Horn in a Windjammer," National Geographic Magazine, February, 1931. The author first establishes that there is only a rare necessity of a boat needing to use the route around Cape Horn. Usually the Panama Canal can be used or, "In the unusual event of a steamer passing to the south of the American Continent - say, on passage from Buenos Aires to Tacahuan - nine times out of ten she will use the Magellan passage" (p. 191). This is an alternate route through the southern islands of South America from Atlantic Ocean to Pacific Ocean.
Villiers actually made two trips around Cape Horn in sailing ships. The first trip was made on the sailing ship, Herzogin Ceirlie. The author conceived the idea of sailing the same route in a sailing ship with a film crew. Together with his friend, a reporter-photographer, the author signed on the full-rigged ship, Grace Harwar, as sailors. No one knew their intentions to film the journey.
Grace Harwar was a Finnish three-master, laden with wheat, that sailed from Wallaroo, Australia, "across the South Pacific around Cape Horn, and across the Atlantic, finally reaching her destination in the British Isles in 138 days - days of tragedy and indescribable suffering" (p. 192). Let's see what this entailed!
The ship carried a crew of 19 sailors, one dog, and one pig. The majority of the sailors were Finns with an average age of 19 years. Most of the few sailing ships in 1931 "are great cargo-carrying steel wagons, wall-sided and heavy-lined, with bluff bows (the forward part) and heavy sterns (the rear end), oversparred (a heavy wooden piece of a mast) and undermanned. . .They run on the borderline, with crews of inexperienced boys; their gear is old; sometimes their plate leaks a little, here and there, and they are badly off for sails" (p. 196).
There were many other shortcomings listed. It concluded with, "Real sailors are scarce; in any case, they will not go in sailing ships!! (p. 196). Yet Mr. Villiers embarked! - Twice!!
"Like neophytes in some fraternity initiation, those who sail over "the Line" (the Equator) for the first time must perform certain rites. The custom is known on ships of all flags. After the ceremony and horseplay, the initiates are dunked in a tank of water" (photo caption, p. 215).
"In bad weather, off Cape Horn, the ship sprung a leak." The water had to be pumped out. "On steamers, machines do this work; on windjammers sailors must either pump or sink" (p. 207).
Before reaching the Cape, the storms were fierce and unrelenting. In the dark preceding daybreak, his friend and another man climbed the sails up to nearly the top to fix one. In the process, a spar fell and killed his friend. The crew thought he was unconscious and had a difficult time lowering him to the deck. When he reached the deck, the captain knew, "He's dead." The next day, he was buried at sea. This had a near-disastrous effect on the rest of the men. There was no communication with nor sight of any ship for several months. His parents in Australia didn't know of his death for three months, till the Grace Harwar reached the British Isles.
After passing around Cape Horn, the crew's food supply was dwindling. They finally killed the pig on board only to find it was diseased and couldn't be eaten. Finally, several weeks later, they spotted a steamer, rowed over to it, and were given a good supply of food which lasted the rest of their trip.
Villiers summarized the trip: April 17, 1929 to September 3: "In the interval one of us was killed; a second one went out of his mind; a third went overboard. We were short of food. . .We tried to make for Cape Town in distress but could not. We saw black albatrosses and endured indescribable suffering off the Horn in the dead of winter" (p. 205).
My conclusion: the experienced sailors who wouldn't sail on a sailing ship (using only sails for power) were smart!
Mr. A.J. Villiers writes of his sailing adventures in "Rounding the Horn in a Windjammer," National Geographic Magazine, February, 1931. The author first establishes that there is only a rare necessity of a boat needing to use the route around Cape Horn. Usually the Panama Canal can be used or, "In the unusual event of a steamer passing to the south of the American Continent - say, on passage from Buenos Aires to Tacahuan - nine times out of ten she will use the Magellan passage" (p. 191). This is an alternate route through the southern islands of South America from Atlantic Ocean to Pacific Ocean.
Villiers actually made two trips around Cape Horn in sailing ships. The first trip was made on the sailing ship, Herzogin Ceirlie. The author conceived the idea of sailing the same route in a sailing ship with a film crew. Together with his friend, a reporter-photographer, the author signed on the full-rigged ship, Grace Harwar, as sailors. No one knew their intentions to film the journey.
Grace Harwar was a Finnish three-master, laden with wheat, that sailed from Wallaroo, Australia, "across the South Pacific around Cape Horn, and across the Atlantic, finally reaching her destination in the British Isles in 138 days - days of tragedy and indescribable suffering" (p. 192). Let's see what this entailed!
The ship carried a crew of 19 sailors, one dog, and one pig. The majority of the sailors were Finns with an average age of 19 years. Most of the few sailing ships in 1931 "are great cargo-carrying steel wagons, wall-sided and heavy-lined, with bluff bows (the forward part) and heavy sterns (the rear end), oversparred (a heavy wooden piece of a mast) and undermanned. . .They run on the borderline, with crews of inexperienced boys; their gear is old; sometimes their plate leaks a little, here and there, and they are badly off for sails" (p. 196).
There were many other shortcomings listed. It concluded with, "Real sailors are scarce; in any case, they will not go in sailing ships!! (p. 196). Yet Mr. Villiers embarked! - Twice!!
"Like neophytes in some fraternity initiation, those who sail over "the Line" (the Equator) for the first time must perform certain rites. The custom is known on ships of all flags. After the ceremony and horseplay, the initiates are dunked in a tank of water" (photo caption, p. 215).
"In bad weather, off Cape Horn, the ship sprung a leak." The water had to be pumped out. "On steamers, machines do this work; on windjammers sailors must either pump or sink" (p. 207).
Before reaching the Cape, the storms were fierce and unrelenting. In the dark preceding daybreak, his friend and another man climbed the sails up to nearly the top to fix one. In the process, a spar fell and killed his friend. The crew thought he was unconscious and had a difficult time lowering him to the deck. When he reached the deck, the captain knew, "He's dead." The next day, he was buried at sea. This had a near-disastrous effect on the rest of the men. There was no communication with nor sight of any ship for several months. His parents in Australia didn't know of his death for three months, till the Grace Harwar reached the British Isles.
After passing around Cape Horn, the crew's food supply was dwindling. They finally killed the pig on board only to find it was diseased and couldn't be eaten. Finally, several weeks later, they spotted a steamer, rowed over to it, and were given a good supply of food which lasted the rest of their trip.
Villiers summarized the trip: April 17, 1929 to September 3: "In the interval one of us was killed; a second one went out of his mind; a third went overboard. We were short of food. . .We tried to make for Cape Town in distress but could not. We saw black albatrosses and endured indescribable suffering off the Horn in the dead of winter" (p. 205).
My conclusion: the experienced sailors who wouldn't sail on a sailing ship (using only sails for power) were smart!
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
King Zog's Country
Progressing in National Geographic Magazines to February, 1931, the next article is "Europe's Newest Kingdom: After Centuries of Struggle, Albania at Last Enjoys an Era of Peace and Stability" by Melville Chater. He began this trip planning on traveling by horseback, but quickly discovered that following the World War, "Albania leaped from Medievalism to Modernism, from horses to horsepower, in a decade" (p. 131) with a system of 700 miles of government roads.
Albania has a long coast on the Adriatic Sea, west of Italy. It shares its southeast border with Greece, and northeast border with Yugoslavia. It is a mountainous country yet has areas of wide, fertile plains. In 1931 it would be considered a small country with 17,000 square miles, "not as large as the U.S. States of New Hampshire and Vermont together" (p. 139) and 830,000 citizens. More than two-thirds are Mohammedans while the balance adheres to the Greek Orthodox and the Roman Catholic communions" (p. 142).
There are the ever-present ruins of ancient countries, the hillside fortresses from Roman, Byzantine, Norman, and Turkish invaders. Natives still wore their traditional costumes in 1931, and the men's "fustanellas," or pleated kilts, looked nearly identical to those of their neighbors to the south, Greece.
One night, the author and his Albanian chauffeur/translator, Pete, stayed overnight in a Muslim monastery. They felt very welcome, and "Next morning we found that no remuneration was expected. Hospitality and tolerance center the Bektashites' code of simple pieties. "It is evil to be full when others are empty" runs one of their sayings" (p. 151).
In one of their encounters, the pair met a workman who told them he had just been released from six years in jail "for being rude." When the author was incredulous, the man explained, "Yes, for being rude with a knife. And, now that I'm out, his widow's brother wants to get rude with me!" (p. 151).
On another occasion, the two were stopped in the road by a youth demanding transport in their car to a town four hours away. The youth touted, "I'm the son of a bey (military leader)." Pete, the chauffeur, laughed, stomped on the gas and left, shouting something in Albanian which, translated, said, "I just told that fresh guy how you are the son of President of U.S.A.!" Thus, the author was introduced to the "social caste, privileged and powerful, which has survived the centuries of Turkish rule" (p. 151).
The capital city, "Tivana, reveals a picture of Albania Westernizing herself. Broad, electric-lit streets neighbor fascinatingly hodgepodege bazaar alleys. A line of brand-new taxis, a row of pack mules, and a string of modern lorries throng the same square" (p. 159). In 1928 the republic became a monarchy, with King Zog the leader. If there were mineral or oil resources in Albania in 1931, they were not explored. "Albanian manufactures are almost exclusively homemade and for home consumption" (photo caption, p. 167). On the farms are olive and fruit tree groves, sheep and cattle, and pine forests.
In 1931, women's political rights were a big item in America. "For centuries the Albanian woman has enjoyed by immemorial custom a legal status such as Western womanhood has battled for in modern times" (photo caption, p. 169).
Albania is the first country I've read of that endeavored to preserve its distinctive classic native costumes by "making them the correct dress at official functions" (p. 172).
Mr. Chater mentioned that years before, his chauffeur, Pete, had lived in Kentucky, U.S.A., my home state. At journey's end, "Pete gave us the cheek-to-cheek greeting as tenderly as a woman, then turned his face to the wall - our good old ever-grinning Gunga Din - and fairly sobbed his heart out; and thereat we Americans knew that he discerned in us some vague tie with his happy, hash-slinging past in old Kentucky" (p. 183). And thus the wandering through Albania ended.
Albania has a long coast on the Adriatic Sea, west of Italy. It shares its southeast border with Greece, and northeast border with Yugoslavia. It is a mountainous country yet has areas of wide, fertile plains. In 1931 it would be considered a small country with 17,000 square miles, "not as large as the U.S. States of New Hampshire and Vermont together" (p. 139) and 830,000 citizens. More than two-thirds are Mohammedans while the balance adheres to the Greek Orthodox and the Roman Catholic communions" (p. 142).
There are the ever-present ruins of ancient countries, the hillside fortresses from Roman, Byzantine, Norman, and Turkish invaders. Natives still wore their traditional costumes in 1931, and the men's "fustanellas," or pleated kilts, looked nearly identical to those of their neighbors to the south, Greece.
One night, the author and his Albanian chauffeur/translator, Pete, stayed overnight in a Muslim monastery. They felt very welcome, and "Next morning we found that no remuneration was expected. Hospitality and tolerance center the Bektashites' code of simple pieties. "It is evil to be full when others are empty" runs one of their sayings" (p. 151).
In one of their encounters, the pair met a workman who told them he had just been released from six years in jail "for being rude." When the author was incredulous, the man explained, "Yes, for being rude with a knife. And, now that I'm out, his widow's brother wants to get rude with me!" (p. 151).
On another occasion, the two were stopped in the road by a youth demanding transport in their car to a town four hours away. The youth touted, "I'm the son of a bey (military leader)." Pete, the chauffeur, laughed, stomped on the gas and left, shouting something in Albanian which, translated, said, "I just told that fresh guy how you are the son of President of U.S.A.!" Thus, the author was introduced to the "social caste, privileged and powerful, which has survived the centuries of Turkish rule" (p. 151).
The capital city, "Tivana, reveals a picture of Albania Westernizing herself. Broad, electric-lit streets neighbor fascinatingly hodgepodege bazaar alleys. A line of brand-new taxis, a row of pack mules, and a string of modern lorries throng the same square" (p. 159). In 1928 the republic became a monarchy, with King Zog the leader. If there were mineral or oil resources in Albania in 1931, they were not explored. "Albanian manufactures are almost exclusively homemade and for home consumption" (photo caption, p. 167). On the farms are olive and fruit tree groves, sheep and cattle, and pine forests.
In 1931, women's political rights were a big item in America. "For centuries the Albanian woman has enjoyed by immemorial custom a legal status such as Western womanhood has battled for in modern times" (photo caption, p. 169).
Albania is the first country I've read of that endeavored to preserve its distinctive classic native costumes by "making them the correct dress at official functions" (p. 172).
Mr. Chater mentioned that years before, his chauffeur, Pete, had lived in Kentucky, U.S.A., my home state. At journey's end, "Pete gave us the cheek-to-cheek greeting as tenderly as a woman, then turned his face to the wall - our good old ever-grinning Gunga Din - and fairly sobbed his heart out; and thereat we Americans knew that he discerned in us some vague tie with his happy, hash-slinging past in old Kentucky" (p. 183). And thus the wandering through Albania ended.
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Playing Catch-Up: Spain!
It was bound to happen in my transitioning between my oldest issues of National Geographic Magazine to the DVD for my missing issues: I skipped ahead to 1931 before finishing 1930. Sorry! Frankly, though, I can't see that, from the perspective of 83 years ago, we have lost a thing!
The next article in order is "Pursuing Spanish Bypaths Northwest of Madrid" by Harry A. McBride, in the January, 1931, issue. FYI: Madrid is near the center of Spain.
Immediately preceding the article is an eight-page section of color photos which are so beautiful they all look like paintings or tapestries. First there is the intricately-carved stone front of the Royal Hospital at Santiago, completed in 1510 by King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella (p. 113). Santiago's Cathedral was built in the 13th century and contains the bones of the Apostle, St. James the Greater (p. 114). The last page shows farming equipment so primitive the plow and cart are wooden. The author mentions that these old implements are gradually disappearing in the large areas but are still in use in many of the country areas (p. 120).
To see the road to the Cathedral, Santiago de Compostela, rent the DVD, "The Way," an interesting story starring Martin Sheene and his son. You will be amazed both by the story and the church's architecture.
"The most interesting feature of Segovia is the old Roman aqueduct, dating from the time of Augustus. This structure, built of solid square blocks of granite, green with age, simply set together without cement or mortar, is 900 yards long and consists of 119 arches, some of them nearly 100 feet in height. Perched on the top for about one-third of the length is a second tier of arches. The whole structure is a stupendous reminder of the excellence of Roman engineering" (p. 121). I have seen so many photos of parts of these Roman aqueducts, and seen parts in Rome, I find it fascinating that they have survived two millennia! Which of our modern buildings will survive two millennia?
Mr. McBride's next stop was the town of Avila, appearing "largely as the Middle Ages left her" (p. 123), surrounded by walls and battle towers built in 1090. The author journeyed northwest through the mountains and ended on the coastal town of Santiago de Compostela, wherein is the famous cathedral, begun in 1074, "in many ways the most interesting of French or Spanish Romanesque buildings. The western facade was built some seven centuries later" (p. 127).
His trip concluded with remarks that the forests in Spain were fast disappearing. And he passed into Portugal. . .
The next article in order is "Pursuing Spanish Bypaths Northwest of Madrid" by Harry A. McBride, in the January, 1931, issue. FYI: Madrid is near the center of Spain.
Immediately preceding the article is an eight-page section of color photos which are so beautiful they all look like paintings or tapestries. First there is the intricately-carved stone front of the Royal Hospital at Santiago, completed in 1510 by King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella (p. 113). Santiago's Cathedral was built in the 13th century and contains the bones of the Apostle, St. James the Greater (p. 114). The last page shows farming equipment so primitive the plow and cart are wooden. The author mentions that these old implements are gradually disappearing in the large areas but are still in use in many of the country areas (p. 120).
To see the road to the Cathedral, Santiago de Compostela, rent the DVD, "The Way," an interesting story starring Martin Sheene and his son. You will be amazed both by the story and the church's architecture.
"The most interesting feature of Segovia is the old Roman aqueduct, dating from the time of Augustus. This structure, built of solid square blocks of granite, green with age, simply set together without cement or mortar, is 900 yards long and consists of 119 arches, some of them nearly 100 feet in height. Perched on the top for about one-third of the length is a second tier of arches. The whole structure is a stupendous reminder of the excellence of Roman engineering" (p. 121). I have seen so many photos of parts of these Roman aqueducts, and seen parts in Rome, I find it fascinating that they have survived two millennia! Which of our modern buildings will survive two millennia?
 | ||
| The wall of the Old City of Rome resembles the aqueduct in other parts of the city. October 2013. |
Also in Segovia is their new cathedral - built in 1522. Another 'attraction' is Alcazar, a castle built in the 11th century with "turrets, battlements, and towers" (p. 122).
 |
| This villa in St. Augustine, Florida, was modeled on another Spanish castle, Alhambra. |
His trip concluded with remarks that the forests in Spain were fast disappearing. And he passed into Portugal. . .
Monday, November 25, 2013
How Big is Brazil?
Since reporting in this blog on the stories in my oldest copy of the National Geographic Magazine, November, 1927, I've come a long way, to December, 1930. I've read several accounts by author, Frederick Simpich, and will enjoy a trip back to Brazil, South America, in "Gigantic Brazil and its Glittering Capital."
Simpich gives us an idea of exactly how vast is the country called Brazil: It was, in 1930, third in the world in land area, after the Soviet Union and China. Brazil is larger than the continental United States of America by more than 200,000 square miles and contains 3,200,000 square miles, nearly half the land in South America. Its land area is 65 times the land area of England. This country on the east coast of South America has a coastline of 3,700 miles, twice the distance from Portland, Maine, to Key West, Florida.
"Amid all Brazil's amazing coastal panorama of prismatic forests, mysterious rivers, foaming cascades, untrod mountains, and polyglot, populous coastal towns, Rio (de Janeiro) remains the very acme of human interest and beauty," (p. 729) Mr. Simpich relates.
He was told, "Rio likes Americans because we have a similarity of ideals and because we share your sense of numor. We even translate and print your jokes!. . .Nowhere, from the Rio Grande to Cape Horn, is the visitor from the United States more welcome than in Rio" (p. 749).
Although there was no prohibition of alcohol in Brazil in 1930, as there was in the United States of America, Brazilians preferred coffee as their national drink. They were great coffee producers, liked their coffee strong, and drank it regularly in many sidewalk cafes. Between the months of August and January, in particular, the streets and warehouses of Sao Paulo's seaport terminal, Santos, throb to one idea - coffee" (photo caption, p. 759).
Most Brazilians spoke Portugese but did trade in at least five other languages. After the Republic was formed, there was a large influx of immigrants, especially from Italy and Germany.
The Republic of the United States of Brazil was formed in 1889 after their independence from Portugal was won in 1822. In 1930, the Republic was still new and Rio de Janeiro was a capital city newly renovated only the the past twenty years. "Scenically, architecturally, it startles us with its theatrical character. From my hotel roof, Rio's skyline resembled a string of fantastic palaces at some world's fair. I could look down on a seaside boulevard that ran from the dignified American Embassy, around moon-shaped bay fronts, to a race course with clubhouses like ancient temples in Egypt. Paris, New York, San Francisco all blend here" (p. 772).
Simpich gives us an idea of exactly how vast is the country called Brazil: It was, in 1930, third in the world in land area, after the Soviet Union and China. Brazil is larger than the continental United States of America by more than 200,000 square miles and contains 3,200,000 square miles, nearly half the land in South America. Its land area is 65 times the land area of England. This country on the east coast of South America has a coastline of 3,700 miles, twice the distance from Portland, Maine, to Key West, Florida.
"Amid all Brazil's amazing coastal panorama of prismatic forests, mysterious rivers, foaming cascades, untrod mountains, and polyglot, populous coastal towns, Rio (de Janeiro) remains the very acme of human interest and beauty," (p. 729) Mr. Simpich relates.
He was told, "Rio likes Americans because we have a similarity of ideals and because we share your sense of numor. We even translate and print your jokes!. . .Nowhere, from the Rio Grande to Cape Horn, is the visitor from the United States more welcome than in Rio" (p. 749).
Although there was no prohibition of alcohol in Brazil in 1930, as there was in the United States of America, Brazilians preferred coffee as their national drink. They were great coffee producers, liked their coffee strong, and drank it regularly in many sidewalk cafes. Between the months of August and January, in particular, the streets and warehouses of Sao Paulo's seaport terminal, Santos, throb to one idea - coffee" (photo caption, p. 759).
Most Brazilians spoke Portugese but did trade in at least five other languages. After the Republic was formed, there was a large influx of immigrants, especially from Italy and Germany.
The Republic of the United States of Brazil was formed in 1889 after their independence from Portugal was won in 1822. In 1930, the Republic was still new and Rio de Janeiro was a capital city newly renovated only the the past twenty years. "Scenically, architecturally, it startles us with its theatrical character. From my hotel roof, Rio's skyline resembled a string of fantastic palaces at some world's fair. I could look down on a seaside boulevard that ran from the dignified American Embassy, around moon-shaped bay fronts, to a race course with clubhouses like ancient temples in Egypt. Paris, New York, San Francisco all blend here" (p. 772).
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Church Hop
Before my teenage daughter #8, Jeannie, and I moved to Lexington, Kentucky, U.S.A., in the year 2000, we wanted to find a church home. We had already been commuting from Danville to Lexington for several years, me for work, and Jeannie for high school. FYI: in my growing-up years, Catholics were strictly limited, by church policy, to the church in the geographical area in which they lived. Period. Note: while human policies can be changed, the divine doctrine of Jesus can and will never change.
Now we are permitted to choose our church community; we visited all seven (at the time) Catholic churches in Lexington. The medieval architecture of several of the older churches was very impressive, but we thought the services dragged. The newer churches were bare architecturally and jammed with tons of families with active children (read: noisy children). The university church seemed to emphasize 'peace and justice' more than worship. Jeanne personally selected the Cathedral Church, Christ the King, for our home. I have never once regretted that choice.
The first Sunday we attended Christ the King church was in 1999, on Christ the King Feastday. We were spiritually blown away by the incredibly beautiful, meaningful, inspiring service, and also by the friendliness of the folks there. Most Sundays thereafter, even before we moved to Lexington, we came to Christ the King.
Today is the Feastday of Christ the King. I revisited my original feelings 14 years ago at Mass this morning. Father Alan was busy with the readings, prayers, and a wonderful Baptism of a very cooperative baby. The crowd was big, as usual. There were trumpets and a bass drum to add to the celebration. The children's choir sounded like angels. Granddaughter #2, Heather, and I went together. This made it even more special! Seeing all these families with all their children, people of all ages and races, worshiping, praying, and celebrating together, gives me such hope for the future of Catholicism!
Then tonight there was a speaker who closed out the Catholic Church's "Year of Faith." The topic was "From Creed to Deed," in other words, belief in Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, is not enough. We are encouraged to SHARE our FAITH, tell our faith story, if we value our faith. Thomas Smith, from Idaho, is a convert to Catholicism from the Mormon faith, "a sixth-generation Mormon," in his words. He was a Baptist minister after he was a Mormon. Smith travels all over the world sharing his faith. Quite an interesting faith journey!
I personally was baptized into the Catholic faith as an infant. I went to Catholic schools for 14 years. I wish every person had this opportunity! It is a very disciplined, loving, protected, holy environment in which to learn and grow. In my freshman year in college, I wondered who this Jesus was. My neighborhood in Dayton, Ohio, was 50% Jewish. I had an inclination to see what the Jewish faith was about and wanted to visit the temple that I passed on the bus to school every day. But I never stopped going to Sunday Mass. It is said that every young adult has to question their faith to actually make it their own. I decided that I did, in fact, want to find out more about Jesus, and remain a Catholic. This is another choice I have never regretted. The goal is to have a personal relationship with Jesus. I find it immensely challenging and fulfilling! And today I went to my second home, Christ the King church - twice! Praise the Lord!!
Now we are permitted to choose our church community; we visited all seven (at the time) Catholic churches in Lexington. The medieval architecture of several of the older churches was very impressive, but we thought the services dragged. The newer churches were bare architecturally and jammed with tons of families with active children (read: noisy children). The university church seemed to emphasize 'peace and justice' more than worship. Jeanne personally selected the Cathedral Church, Christ the King, for our home. I have never once regretted that choice.
The first Sunday we attended Christ the King church was in 1999, on Christ the King Feastday. We were spiritually blown away by the incredibly beautiful, meaningful, inspiring service, and also by the friendliness of the folks there. Most Sundays thereafter, even before we moved to Lexington, we came to Christ the King.
Today is the Feastday of Christ the King. I revisited my original feelings 14 years ago at Mass this morning. Father Alan was busy with the readings, prayers, and a wonderful Baptism of a very cooperative baby. The crowd was big, as usual. There were trumpets and a bass drum to add to the celebration. The children's choir sounded like angels. Granddaughter #2, Heather, and I went together. This made it even more special! Seeing all these families with all their children, people of all ages and races, worshiping, praying, and celebrating together, gives me such hope for the future of Catholicism!
Then tonight there was a speaker who closed out the Catholic Church's "Year of Faith." The topic was "From Creed to Deed," in other words, belief in Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, is not enough. We are encouraged to SHARE our FAITH, tell our faith story, if we value our faith. Thomas Smith, from Idaho, is a convert to Catholicism from the Mormon faith, "a sixth-generation Mormon," in his words. He was a Baptist minister after he was a Mormon. Smith travels all over the world sharing his faith. Quite an interesting faith journey!
I personally was baptized into the Catholic faith as an infant. I went to Catholic schools for 14 years. I wish every person had this opportunity! It is a very disciplined, loving, protected, holy environment in which to learn and grow. In my freshman year in college, I wondered who this Jesus was. My neighborhood in Dayton, Ohio, was 50% Jewish. I had an inclination to see what the Jewish faith was about and wanted to visit the temple that I passed on the bus to school every day. But I never stopped going to Sunday Mass. It is said that every young adult has to question their faith to actually make it their own. I decided that I did, in fact, want to find out more about Jesus, and remain a Catholic. This is another choice I have never regretted. The goal is to have a personal relationship with Jesus. I find it immensely challenging and fulfilling! And today I went to my second home, Christ the King church - twice! Praise the Lord!!
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