History and politics and protest should be, can be, always will be at the heart of meaningful art—including dance. This week at Dance Umbrella, the traditional Reed Dance is reconsidered, Julius Caesar revisited and Chief Maqoma remembered. Remarkable!

Near Market Theatre

Dance Umbrella has nurtured, encouraged and presented the best of South African contemporary dance since 1989 as well as hosting important international companies. Through  the most tumultuous years one can imagine for any country the festival has continued to showcase the internationally acclaimed talents of South African dance, make South Africans proud of their dancing sons and daughter and open the eyes of the world to this pool of innovation and originality in dance. Congratulations to everyone!

Nelisiwe Xaba

UNCLES AND ANGELS: The festival opened with Nelisiwe Xaba and Mocke J Van Veuren and an interactive dance/video work titled Uncles & Angels. Anyone with even the slightest knowledge of Xaba’s work would not have expected this piece to be about pudgy celestials and their kindly old uncles. And in that sense she did not surprise!

According to Xaba, Uncles and Angels “explores questions of chastity, virginity testing, purity, and tradition…” focusing on the traditional Reed Dance as practiced for both tourist dollars and political gain in KwaZulu-Natal and Swaziland. Uncles and Angels is a dance of protest about girls and the antiquated rites that encourage sexual predators and an unrealistic approach to one of South Africa’s main social issues, the prevalence of HIV/AIDS.

Neli

Xaba does dance like an angel, albeit a slightly wicked one. She is an elegant feminist whose powerful presence is extended and magnified through the stunning videography of Van Veuren.

Gregory Maqoma

EXIT/EXIST: Gregory Maqoma is never afraid to tell stories, both personal and political. And in so doing he dances a fine line of literality versus abstraction. Everyone has an information threshold… “Too much information” has become a common phrase. For some pure abstraction is preferable. However Exit/Exist is NOT an abstraction to be viewed through a purely personal or a determinedly detached lens. It is a story about somebody and something to which the viewer should pay attention.

Exit/Exist is the historical and familial tale of Chief Maqoma, Gregory Maqoma’s ancestor. While the theatrical accoutrements of storytelling are all about, they never overwhelm the strong, pure, beautiful dance and music of Gregory and his collaborators.

Chief Maqoma and the Xhosa nation battled the English over land and cattle, wanting their existence to be about more than simply existing. The Chief’s fight for freedom for his people moved the cause forward then and now his descendent, a dancer, continues the struggle to make all African voices heard.

The music performed by the group, Complete, feels like it represents decades or even centuries of voices raised in hope and protest.

I hope Gregory Maqoma never stops being the dancer in his dances. I can see him at 75, still completely mesmerizing in these remarkable solos with music as the equal partner to the dance—the story never overwhelming but never missing either.

QAPHELA CAESAR! Is a big dashing dance opera of which Julius Caesar would surely have approved.  It was performed in the Old Stock Exchange Market Hall which gave it just the right aura of self-importance (in a good way!) and encouraged hectic over-the-top behavior and emoting.

Jay Pather, director and choreographer, is making a political statement as well as revisiting this classic tale as an always great framework for creative storytelling. He says, “My interest lies in the tension between the ‘Caesar’ and ‘Brutus’ characters, representing the good fight of the past and the political expediency of the present…”

Qaphela Caesar is full of confusion and contradiction but one is always curious about the next evolution of character and setting and action—never taking anything for granted based on previous familiarity with the story.

One test of any work is whether it engages you in spite of jet lag. I can attest to the fact that these three pieces easily overcame any tendency to lag. EXCELLENT FIRST WEEKEND.

Only 112 to go

Lesotho: Country #84 on my world tour. Remember the rules (to count a country as having been visited) are that you must have read at least the Wikipedia description of what your new passport stamp represents; travel around on that country’s surface roads or streets or tracks or paths for a few hours; eat something local (like the Lay’s potato chips from an authentic Lesotho service station where you also use the facilities); and take photos.

Road to Lesotho

It is not that hard although it does take some time and money. But along the way you will likely have the experiences that stay around in your memory long after any particular flight, hotel or special cuisine has faded into oblivion.

Left early!

Yesterday, Lawrence Kwinda, who owns and operates Kwinda Tours and has become a friend over our trips to Johannesburg and Dance Umbrella, drove me to Maseru, a most undistinguished town, just across the border in the Kingdom of Lesotho, a peculiar little enclave totally within South African borders.

Rainy morning road trip. YES

It was a 14-hour day mostly in the car, snacking on road food, and viewing many miles of South African and a couple of hours of Lesotho countryside. A day not so different from any of my 12-15 hour drives to San Diego or Minnesota.

Please be patient…

Except that my passport is now just a little weightier and, Lawrence being a prolific historian, ethnographer and storyteller, I am far more engaged in and knowledgeable about the past and present of South African people and places.

In the car–through the countryside

The drive from Johannesburg to Lesotho is pleasant, the scenery mid-America-like with flat or gently rolling cornfields and cattle ranges. We crossed the Vaal River and the adjoining Transvaal countryside and Lawrence pointed out markers of Afrikaner history which are prominent in this part of the country. While wisely not throwing away an often painful past, South Africans are busily locating and studying the original South Africa of the Xhosa, Zulu, Swazi, Ndebele, etc. When these accounts are fully incorporated into the already thoroughly documented Dutch/ British/Afrikaans narration and the stories of this last astonishing century then the magnificent tapestry that is South Africa will be complete. It’s not at all dissimilar from what we are doing in the States at the insistence of Native Americans whose history is finally on the road to being acknowledged and appreciated.

Sometimes it’s all a blur

Even if one has a general interest in history, what makes it all immediate is connecting a friend or acquaintance or family member or hero with a time and place—linking past and present. In this case, Lawrence, but also through one of the artists here—more about that later.

Lawrence–grand storyteller and historian

The history that became real to me was that of the Lemba tribe or Black Jews of South Africa of which Lawrence is a member. The Lemba have traditions completely unlike any other African tribes or ethnic groups and similar to many aspects of Jewish culture. I only had the vaguest of knowledge of this and now suddenly I know someone from this most mysterious and fascinating of people. If you’re curious here’s a good link: African Lemba Tribe – eNotes.com

Golden Gate National Park

The almost six hour drive to Lesotho was packed with Lawrence’s stories of his life and times, becoming a successful entrepreneur while exploring his own background and celebrating the political and social changes in South Africa. Doesn’t get any better than a road trip with road food (potato chips and yogurt drinks) and good stories.

Into Lesotho

The little piece of Lesotho we managed to experience consisted of the miles between one check point and the next which was in the city of Maseru. While we enjoyed the assortment of green hills, rocky outcroppings and modest red cliffs, the real sights of the Kingdom were obviously in those distant mountain ranges. That is always the problem isn’t it? So many inviting skylines, so little time.

And just on the other side lies………

Lesotho is a poor country with a huge HIV/AIDS problem and the disparities between it and its huge rich neighbor on all sides, South Africa, is apparent the minute the border is crossed. It seems the big attraction in Maseru is gambling with the main cultural attractions being casinos!  Since it was Sunday the Visitors’ Center was closed as were the nearby restaurants so our visit to Maseru was short.

Maseru

Back home through Bloemfontein and a look at its quiet Sunday streets and into Johannesburg, tired but happy. A new stamp in the passport, good stories and feeling of being a little more connected to the land of South Africa.

Outside of Bloemfontein, commemorating the horses of a particular battle/war

Looking for George…as in Clooney…airport…get it?

LAST NIGHT: I spent last night with a very pleasant Chinese man. We shared two meals and slept for seven hours only inches apart. Our communication was fairly typical for encounters of this kind: we exchanged the basic pleasantries early on and then had a brief, slightly more intimate, exchange upon our leave-taking. I did not detect any sociopathic tendencies during our hours together, only an endearing trait that makes him a real sleep-mate—he sleeps with his head covered. I am rather looking forward to tonight. Another night, another man—or woman as the case may be. Meals, intimate exchanges, sleep. Alas this did not happen—three seat configuration in this very nice Airbus, shared by a German couple who spoke—German!  The closeness, the intimacy—all gone.

George wasn’t here either.

LOOKING FOR GEORGE: Life on the road…me and George. I keep searching for him…in every airport…in all the world…hoping that there he’ll be—right over there in that waiting area or standing in line at Security or picking up a yogurt and a Herald Tribune at that kiosk. And maybe, just maybe, tonight I’ll be with him. Although with a million frequent flyer miles I don’t suppose he’s traveling economy class! Damn, seems I missed him altogether on this trip.

Frankfurters in Frankfurt

WIENIE TOURIST: I’m in the cozy restaurant overlooking the runway at the Frankfurt airport, eating FRANKFURTERS as one should while here. This airport is the only place I go in Germany so…and when in Germany one should …. But the frankfurters look and taste like the most ordinary of American wienies and the potato salad is quite oily but also sweetish and tart and rather nice in its own Germanic way. I had to go through fairly rigorous security twice to have these frankfurters– with large mean women manning the posts. But then I land in at the Oliver Tambo Airport in Johannesburg which is clearly one of the nicest airports in the world so all is well.

There’s always one more blog to write

ABOUT LAST NIGHT: I really should say a little more about last night’s companion. Because he is taking over the world you know. From Beijing –in Houston to open a new business—a welding business. His firm distributes welding supplies and he is very excited about the potential of Houston and all of Texas out there welding away with Chinese equipment. But now he is on his way to Barcelona to check up on one of their Spanish distributors. AND he has been in 70 countries, almost all in which his company has business interests.  He was very impressed by my 83. No one else is ever awed by that number because most Americans have no clue about how many countries there are in the world. So at the moment I’m okay with the Chinese at the top in the new world order. (Not really but it could be worse—as in Republicans)  

The world is still SOMEBODY’S OYSTER…Whose?

AND IN THE NEWS…: I spent 48 hours before I left without turning on TV because I couldn’t. I had Direct TV suspend my service! So by the time I saw Anderson Cooper on the airport TV last night I felt very happy…for a minute…until I realized he was still talking about how Whitney Houston died. Hey America, the Chinese are taking over the world, there are strikes and economies going down in Europe, women are running some countries and doing as well as men (maybe better), people are starving and fighting and dying and the ocean is rising and Anderson Cooper is still talking about Whitney Houston. I WILL BE OKAY WITHOUT CABLE. Read newspapers everyone. And watch “The Good Wife” on your computer. IN JOZIE now…Jozie is how the real Johannesburgers refer to their city. I love it here—in Jozie. 

Ladies who lunch…and talk dance in Jozie

My grandfather Ole Floren’s trunk on the voyage from Norway to South Dakota, Cameroonian woman, map of New Zealand, mango from the Philippines, stone from Alaska

We live in a global village, work in a global economy, worry about global warming and try to be worthy of global citizenship. The underpinnings of the present political struggle between the far right/Tea Party and the rest of us is fear of this big new world in its many-colored guises. It is understandable to some degree…I cannot accept that a woman wants to be one of many wives or live her community life in an ugly black shroud, I do not understand the manipulations and shenanigans of New Mexico’s state budgeters much less those of the U.S. or the world and I truly fear the rising waters of global warming.

There are choices about how to deal with this unease, this fear. One is to pretend these issues do not exist and to try to elect government decision-makers that promise to make it all go away. Bring jobs home to America—except for the people making your cheap Wal-Mart junk, keep those “foreigners” out, speak English only, burn more coal/bomb for oil. The underlying message being “I’m scared of NOW, of doing something different.”

The other choice is to get out there, explore the village: walk its streets, shop in its stores, meet the neighbors—acquire global citizenship. Whoever you are you can get your passport stamped through books, film, food, travel and meeting the new neighbors. There is no excuse for limiting your experience to your street corner.

Google ‘global citizenship’ and there is founding father, Thomas Paine, who described his notion of being a global citizen thusly: My country is the world, and my religion is to do good.

 Now even though Paine was responsible for much of what was written defining freedom, he was eventually rejected because of the abiding American insistence that no beliefs are valid outside of the precept of an all-powerful god who can give anyone behaving badly a pass if only they repent. We can thank a few people over the centuries like Paine that the global religion, for which fundamentalists of all faiths long  and for which they are willing to kill, has not yet become a reality.

I am about to reread “The Global Soul” by Pico Iyer because it so profoundly influenced my desire to visit every country in the world. I first read it 10 or so years—or about 60 countries ago. I had not yet started to feel like a global soul. Now I think I do. I know some neighborhoods in this sprawling confusing village well and some hardly at all. But I increasingly understand how a home can be created on any of its streets and it will always be a place that mixes the known with the unknown, the safe with the unsafe, and the familiar with the unfamiliar in surprising and pleasing ways.

My favorite word is global, I produce a festival called Global DanceFest and I approve this message.

Next to food…on a scale of life’s necessities. From a postcard by Soizick Meister

The Guys

Coming to Australia was a wonderful break from reality for me. During the months before this trip I have been scrambling to keep up with my requirements to transfer into a university and trying to balance a part time marketing internship. This trip was the reward for staying on top of everything because I have now sent out all of my applications and my next semester will be a bit less challenging. After spending a few days at Surfer’s Paradise on the Gold Coast, I couldn’t help but realize that it was very familiar to the San Diego lifestyle. Between the surf culture and sea breeze I felt right at home and the fact that I could drink legally was a nice addition. The first week of this trip was more about relaxing on the beach and unwinding then sightseeing and learning about another culture.

After the week in Surfer’s Paradise we headed over to Auckland and, to my surprise, it ended up being my favorite part of the trip. We spent a few days in the city bumming around and eventually met up with a local who took us to some of the most breathtakingly beautiful places I have ever seen. We jumped off of waterfalls and went on hikes to secluded beaches with landscape that could be put on a postcard. Aside from the city and the waterfalls, we also went to the area where the new Lord of the Rings movie, The Hobbit, was being filmed. It was apparent why the director chose to shoot the movie over in New Zealand because the scenery was amazing and everything about the area seemed peaceful. Overall the trip was an amazing experience that I couldn’t imagine spending with anyone other than my grandma and my best friend.  By Steven

Beach @ Surfers Paradise: Photo by Brant Wagner

This was my first time out of the Country and I absolutely love it. I Traveled to Australia with my Best Friend and his Grandmother. First we explored to city of Brisbane and then took a train and a bus down to surfer’s Paradise. This is where this picture was taken. I love this picture because of the deep color of the sky and with the moon floating over the life guard tower. One thing that I liked so much about this country is that the drinking age is 18 and I am 19! So you know what that means! Me and Steve have been hitting the local scene and checking out the local bars.

Natural New Zealand: Photo by Brant Wagner

When someone asks you what a waterfall should look like this is what I would show them.  This Waterfall was tucked away in a rainforest that is about 30 minutes out of Auckland, New Zealand. I would have never known about this picturesque place if it was not for our local friend Jordan who took use to this waterfall and two other. We went off the main trail to find this place or as Jordan called we went Bushwhacking. Seeing things like this natural waterfall makes me want to never leave New Zealand.  By Brant

That old ‘city by the bay’ vibe

Auckland, New Zealand feels like a world neighborhood to which you would gravitate if you wanted peace, quiet, natural beauty, funky charm and really nice wine. Like San Francisco’s quiet little sister.

History from a barely remembered book, Wikipedia and two weeks down under! I am curious. Why does New Zealand have such a different vibe than Australia? Of course the question is silly for me to hazard an answer since Surfers Paradise is my only Australian experience and Auckland the only NZ sampling. I read “Fatal Shore” some years ago so there is a vague history of Australia in my mind. The aboriginal people (whom Wikipedia says may be descended from a long-ago migration from the African mainland before the Europeans and Asians were even differentiated as distinct races), the convicts, the harsh land, the British colonial heritage.

I am still more curious. Somehow NZ had appeared in my mind’s eye as Australia’s pretty islands and that is not necessarily true. It turns out their history is quite different. New Zealand is a Pacific Island in the way the Philippines or Tahiti or Hawaii are Pacific Islands. Settled by Austronesians (later split into divergent groups such as the Polynesians and Melanesians) who came out of pre-Chinese Taiwan and populated the South Seas.

Here in New Zealand, the Austronesians/Polynesians became the Maoris and it seems their influence on these beautiful islands is profound. Although NZ was also a British colony it feels like the British cowboys set the mood in Australian while the New Zealand colonizers let themselves be influenced by the Pacific people already here.

Easy Peasy Auckland: Auckland has been to rest and recuperate and enjoy my delightful travel companions. If I win power ball I will invite Steven and Brant to travel the world with me for the next year and then foot all of their education bills through however many doctorates they choose to pursue.

What interesting adventurous lively guys they are. The two of them have made me feel better about the world—if they are indeed the future then I think we are okay. They are ambitious but not to the exclusion of the idea of ‘doing good.’ They are open but skeptical of all dogma. Nice nice guys and so much fun to be around.

Auckland City Hotel

We moved hotels after the first three days because our first one was already booked for the weekend and came here to the Auckland City Hotel which has an appealing Malaysian restaurant called “The Mustard Seed” that we may sample tonight. Steven and Brant picked it on Expedia—it was lovely to have them take the responsibility since that is one of those imponderables of travel. No matter how thoroughly you peruse the hotel listings and read Trip Advisor about a quarter of the time you come up wrong-footed.

The guys have promised to write the blog tomorrow about their adventures so I will simply regale you with mine. Consisting of eating and shopping! Not bad holiday pastimes.

Started my recovery a few days ago with the best—and only—lamb salad I have ever had accompanied by a fruity crisp white wine even I could detect was very fine. First wine of the trip. A sad sad thing if one is traveling to major wine regions.

Since then the major meals have included a very pricey harbor lunch that was unfortunately quite ordinary although Brant swears his $15 hot dog was truly gourmet.

World’s best $15 hot dog

Our next best meal was breakfast on the bench in front of (drum roll) Dunkin Donuts!

Enough to make a NON-foodie heart sing!

But tonight Malaysian and tomorrow back to the lamb salad place for a…lamb salad, lamb kabobs and more of the delectable wine. I am purposely blocking out the images of those wooly little lambs we kept around the kitchen stove on blizzardy spring days, the enthusiasm which they drank their bottles of milk, their little baby baa baa baa’s. It has taken me this long but now I’m ready to eat the little buggers. There are Starbucks and MUFFIN stores here as well. A global neighborhood almost too familiar—but nice anyway!

Buildings with some personality remain.

We discovered Kathmandu, New Zealand’s REI. Probably they have them in the U.S. but not in my neighborhood and not with everything on sale. Also an imposing book store on a prominent corner of Queen Street. Bought a stash of regional books of course. And am happily into one by a western Australian writer Tim Winton. The book, Dirt Music, is brilliant. The truth is—Kindles and their other reader friends are awful things, only acceptable on long journeys if one is traveling alone. I may get rid of mine altogether. THE THING IS NOT A BOOK.

Oh oh. The old curiosity gene that was lying almost dormant about this part of the world is stirring. That is a good thing or not. It almost always happens through books, usually novels. It is like getting the flu when you feel that first prickle of something not being right. With curiosity, the prickle is—I want to go to Perth…or drive down to the tip of South Island…or hop around this whole region to Papua and East Timor and back to Darwin and make myself eat a piece of bread with vegemite on it—it starts small and then pretty soon you are frustrated and depressed because there is no time and money in life to do all of that everywhere in the world. But frustrated and depressed in a good way.

California dudes out in the world

Same Old Moon

Most blogs are promo or diary/journal it seems. What did I want Time and Place to be? Journal. Opinion. Discovery. Well written with enough travel insights so that it can be enjoyed the way you enjoy reading your favorite newspaper columns on a regular basis.

Time and Place IS of course intended to be personal…but with a little outsider perspective so it is not all about ME. It feels like it started out with the right idea but that it is sliding off the rails right now.

Same old minibar

 IT HAPPENS!

Possibly this is because for the third time (once in Bergen, Norway—bad bad flu; once in Windhoek, Namibia—RA flare-up) in my years of travel I am quite ill, this time with some disease that hampers breathing. Now that the scary part is over I am just listless and bored…and wondering why I want to travel all of the time when many places in the world are fine for their own inhabitants but not so enticing for the casual visitor. And it is so much better to be home when sick. My fluffy comforter, my dulce de leche ice cream, my books and channels and friends with whom to kvetch about the unfairness of it all.

Same Old Ocean

 IT IS A BIG WORLD AFTER ALL MR. DISNEY

So what is it? I keep pondering this apparent travel addiction as the countries add up. As I realize there aren’t so many places that still send the old travel bug galloping up my spine when their exotic names appear.

Big swaths of the world—Russia and the Stan countries, Southeast Asia, India/Nepal/Bangladesh, much of West Africa—lie ahead of me on this every-country quest. Tens of countries—scattered on many continents—are still to grace my passport. The work goes on. Find affordable plane tickets, hotels. Don’t get sick. Enjoy something!  Go to every country in the world. Really?

Same Old Neighborhood–Sort of

NEIGHBORHOODS

To go to every country in the world is like going to every neighborhood in your town. The poor but interesting or sad or threatening; the boring but pleasant and/or safe; the funky but historic; or the rich and tacky/rich and luxurious/rich and perfect. You go there for dinner, here for groceries, there for a party, here to the cleaners, there because it’s on the way to another there. Here because you live here. That is how I think of my travels—just familiarizing myself with all the neighborhoods of my whole world.

My ennui makes sense though. As more and more of the ‘neighborhoods’ are checked off my list the thrill of discovery is replaced with an acknowledgement of the familiar –which we all know can have its monotonous side.

Surfers Paradise, Queensland, Australia is in the ‘boring but pleasant’ neighborhood category. Not bad for a family trip. The purpose is for my grandson to have a good time. And for me to get yet one more passport stamp. New Zealand next; same mission. But with rain and lamb chops. So ‘boring but pleasant’ is perfectly appropriate destination sometimes. BUT STILL…

Same old Special Treat

Me Kangaroo

There are adventures and travels and journeys and holidays—all will get you to other lands but how you act when you get there will be quite different depending on your mode of choice. On a holiday you have fun dammit!

Holidays are FUN!

This is a holiday. At a family beach town. In Queensland, Australia. Steven and his friend Brant are relaxing and do appear to be having fun…and I have my 82nd passport stamp so the basic goals have been achieved.  Now what? Bird watching.

My intent was to write but getting quite ill put a damper on that worthy plan.  I haven’t given up especially since I’ve finished the three detective novels in my bag and must switch to slightly more serious literature before I get to Auckland bookstores. But bird watching is good.

Our vacation spot, Surfers Paradise, packed with inlanders/outbackers, is San Diego with the landlubbing Zonies everywhere putting their wet suits on backwards and turning a dangerous crimson. Even though this place has nothing on San Diego, Steven and Brant seem okay because here they have total freedom from school and work and parental expectations and they can legally drink beer! Actually they are far too smart to take full advantage of these wild possibilities.

Party boys planning another decadent adventure

I am bored and just realized I will come and go from Australia without ever seeing a KANGAROO. But…we’re off to souvenir shop. Surely that will yield one.

Oh yeah…and a sun/heat wave here. Blah…

However I will go buy a new shirt or two so I don’t have to wash anything in the sink. That’s fun.

And I am sleeping with the big sliding doors wide open every moment.… (however…if sea air cures why am I not okay by now?)  Actually this part is really better than fun.

And there is ZERO news about American politics on TV. Should I check in on line just in case it all turned rational overnight and intelligent discussion is ensuing? Nah…what are the odds. Fun.

And Steven just came back from the store with a stash of doughnuts. Serious fun.

Still I WANT TO SEE A LIVE KANGAROO. Won’t. Oh well, shall I eat my lemon doughnut or my chocolate doughnut?

Steven Klotzback, Brant Wagner and Marjorie Neset did not have a January 5 ^th this year. How is that possible? I understand about the International Date Line and all that. And that somehow the missing hours aren’t actually missing. But, I am telling you, we did not experience that day!  How can you not have a day of your life? ‘What did you do on January 5^th ?’ ‘Well, I didn’t have January 5^th this year!’ So all of the good we intended to do on that day will be shifted to January 18^th when we travel the opposite direction for 15 hours and still arrive at about the same time we departed and haven’t wasted any time being selfish or cranky.

Are not date lines and time zones and meridians and latitudes and longitudes—imaginary lines and missing days and Atlantis and black holes fantastic inventions?

 Steven and Brant, my grandson and his best friend, delightful, smart, witty, kind and handsome young men—and my companions on this trip down under (Steven’s 16^th birthday and high school graduation present a couple of years late) are in love with their first big semi-independent (I am here for the occasional check-in only) trip to foreign lands. Brant has only been to Mexico and, while Steven has been to the Philippines twice, it was as a young kid with mom and dad only steps away so this is a big deal. This trip to Australia and New Zealand is all planned and programmed by them and since they’re both friendly and laid-back it is an easy going adventure.

Into Brisbane yesterday morning with only one small hitch between LAX and our Australian hotel. We had to throw away our stash of uneaten Costco cinnamon rolls before going through border control. Now honestly, what ingredient among all that dough and frosting and cinnamon and sugar could have infected their crops?

I am apparently having an attack of something like pleurisy (as in I can’t really breathe!) so did not see much of Brisbane. What I did see reminded me of what a small placid Houston might be like more than a California coast town. This morning we took the Gold Coast train down here to SURFERS’ PARADISE.

SP is a high-rise beach town, a slightly dowdy Miami Beach with a little of that lovely beach town tackiness of Pacific Beach thrown in. Steven and Brant tell me the water is warm and the waves are high but they are having some trouble figuring out how to rent a decent board for at least a day of surfing. The available rentals are not up to fussy California surfer dude standards and the price to purchase one second hand and sell it back is beyond poor California surfer dude budgets so I am not sure what they will finally do.

Our rooms at the VIBE Hotel are pleasant…overlooking the ocean…supposed to be rainy and stormy tomorrow which the guys seem okay with because there is roaming about town and skate boarding and swimming and movies and games and each other’s company and life is good. Of course I would be more than thrilled with a day of rain in which I can write and read and overlook crashing waves and drink coffee and contemplate my naval. As long as the guys remain happy which they show no sign of stopping all is well.

Tomorrow I will search out and find Vegemite no matter the weather or the state of my health.

Now we are going to have a room picnic while the guys get on line to search for surfboard rentals. $66 to have internet while here so needless to say we only have it in one room.  G ‘day then Mates.

Even though it was a year of many losses my immediate family is well—and that is reason enough for declaring my glass more than half full this New Year’s Eve.

To 2012

I have already written in “Time and Place” about most of the year’s events and passages, travels and trauma. Now, with a slightly new and improved blog format I will attempt to offer a year-in-review, mostly photos and a few words, including extras for the months since my August adventures in the Balkans (which I am sorry to say were never wrapped up properly).

 BUT FIRST… 2012 RESOLUTIONS

In 2012 I will be a wiser and more thoughtful person and lose the same five pounds that have been on the resolutions list for the last 20 years or so.

In 2012, I will post to my blog twice a week, write the first draft of a whole book called “Neighborhoods” and go to 12-15 more countries.

In 2012, I will reach Harrison in my reading of presidential biographies.

In 2012, I will decide whether to get a facelift or a new car in 2013.

 NOW FOR 2011

BAD PEOPLE: One chilly night while I was in the gym making good on my 2010 New Year’s resolutions, a bad guy smashed out my car window and took my bag and backpack with all the usual stuff plus my passport full of stamps and my calendar and cell phone (containing pretty much the sum total of my knowledge). I would have taken photos of smashed glass, all sparkly and beautiful, scattered throughout and around my car but my camera was among the stolen things.

 FAMILY EVENTS: Teresa completed her junior year at UCLA and is maybe headed for summa cum laude.

Majoring in frosting

Patricia entered her senior year at La Cueva High School and Sara started her first year at Desert Ridge Middle School. They both remain cheerleaders extraordinaire.

Patricia–at the game

Sara is looking forward to at least five more years of cheerleading…and her parents?

A big deal for me. Eldest son Scott came out for a weekend and, with Steven, we toured all of the neighborhoods, streets and apartments where we lived between 1972 and the early 80s—the good, the bad and the ugly.

My boys

Sara and I went on our first big trip together, the first half which I describe in a previous post, “Go East Young Sara—Go East!” Extra photos here for DC half.

Sara tours White House with Udall interns

A long day on the mall waiting for the fireworks. Hot but happy crowd. We felt very patriotic.

TRAVELS: First, in early January, to NYC to a meeting hosted by the organization formerly known as DTW; stayed at the Hotel Chelsea of Patti Smith/Robert Mapplethorpe/many other talented crazy original artists’ fame. Old gas stove in the room’s shabby little kitchenette provided the only warmth for the day the heat went out. Hey, it was under $200 a night in Manhattan…you get what you pay for…history not comfort.

I stayed at the Hotel Chelsea. Therefore I am a writer

Next to Beirut to the Arab Dance Platform. Can’t find my photos but saw several interesting pieces, went on a winery trip to the Bekaa Valley and ate a lot of doughnuts from the Dunkin Donuts next door to my hotel.

Then a summer trip home to Minnesota which I wrote about in the post, “You can go home again…you just can’t live there because it’s all fallen down.”

This is how my dad, Sven the lumberjack, made his living

If there were only more teachers like these two, we’d all be smart

Me and my baby bro…all those years of fighting and now we actually like each other.

He got bigger but not smarter than me!

And finally my travel year ended on a high note with a long rambling bus, train and plane trip through the ten countries that comprise the Balkans plus Ukraine and Turkey. Unfortunately I did not post from the last three countries so here are extra photos of Sofia, Istanbul and Athens.

SO just an Istanbul photo I like

I was very tired by the time I reached Athens so I just sat in the park and looked at creatures for the first afternoon.

Athenian wild life

WORK: All went well considering cuts in Medicaid and VSA National Dept. of Education funding. We dropped the AmeriCorps program in which the burden of red tape finally outweighed the enthusiasm of the talented young people who came to work for us for a year or two.

Art continued to happen with paintings, pottery, quilts, books, music, dance and drama the happy result.

VSA performing artists made a piece with Desire Davids from South Africa.

After the dance party

The stars relaxing

Global DanceFest presented old friends including the brilliant and buoyant Stephen Petronio Company; Eiko and Koma with their completely unique brand of Butoh, slow, sensual, mesmerizing; Panaibra Gabriel danced the Marrabenta Solos to the traditional Mozambican music of his father and Faustin Linyekula, two dancers and three musicians offered very big  Congolese sound and gorgeous slinky dancing.

POLITICS: Killed some seriously bad guys, Bin Laden and Gaddafi; were subjected to some second-rate comedians also known as the Republican candidates and then there was humiliation of having to acknowledge that fine old American institution called Congress belonged to us. Suffered some Obama disappointment until the alternatives were considered.  It is the year I gave up any interest in political involvement beyond voting. Better to send your money to Doctors without Borders or go to the casino!

FAREWELLS: Finally, just like all of the TV news shows, I want to say good-bye to some fine people who left my circle of extended family and friends this year.

My cousin’s husband and my friend, Otis, lumberjack, gold miner, rancher and storyteller…who always swore he was going to find me an old Minnesota lumberjack for a husband every time I came home.

Otis

My hero Grace, political activist and head of ACLU for many years—who who was liable to raise her voice in any setting to proclaim what idiots we were for having elected that “goddamn George Bush.”

GRACE

My daughter-in-law’s mom, Sofia, a schoolteacher in the Philippines and a loving mom and grandmother during her years in the U.S. who worked so hard to see that all of her children had a chance for a more secure life than her beloved home could offer.

Sandra’s mom, Sofia, dad Joe, Cynthia and Sandra–2009

My brother and sister-in-law lost their dog Buddy from a brutal disease. If you are not a dog person it might seem wrong to lump the loss of a pet in with the loss of people. If you are a dog person you know exactly why Buddy is listed here among the year’s lost loved ones—because to Marsha and Robert he was family.

Buddy

DON

 And finally, my sons’ father, Don. I met him in 1958 on McCoy AFB in Pinecastle, Florida. I was newly arrived from Minnesota with a job as the morning coffee girl at the NCO Club. He was an extraordinarily handsome young guy who responded to my “it’s really rainy out today” with “yeah, just like London.” I was 19 and immediately smitten—a cute guy who had traveled. (Well, actually he hadn’t but I did not know that until later!)

About the time we met

Back in the day…

We were married and had two healthy beautiful sons, moved from Florida to the Philippines and back to North Carolina.  Don was sent to Vietnam before the war was really underway where he became a base/village sheriff. We were next stationed at Holloman AFB in Alamogordo where our two towheaded sons ran wild around the base and I commuted to NMSU.

The marriage ended soon after that. We have been divorced almost 40 years so I did not really know him anymore but he remained my brother’s best friend all these years.

Don wrote poems, built a catamaran by himself, was a great cook and passed on a playful spirit to his sons.

Don loved motorcycles. Suffering from advanced emphysema, he nevertheless decided to take his Harley and oxygen tank and make a 75^th birthday trip to visit his son in New Mexico and then go on the his son in California.  He left Albuquerque early, heading down I-25 on his treasured bike and made it as far as Hatch where he apparently experienced a massive heart attack or stroke; he died almost instantly.

Maybe this last act was foolhardy, but it was wonderfully audacious thing to do—a legacy of not giving in to circumstances that he passed on to his boys.

A Family

 Happy New Year everyone! Obama in 2012 and world peace…yeah, right!