The one that swam away

I have mentioned already my attitude towards cameras and photography. I got to test it quite well, as I recently lost my pocket camera, and almost inmediately afterwards went to Florence, an eminently photo-friendly kind of place.

And yes, there is a difference, but no, I did not buy a camera nor do I intend to do so in the near future. However I still feel the itch to take certain photos. In Florence, while the batteries lasted, I could borrow my wife's, to catch a few particular interests, and some necessary images, such as a Hare Krishna parade by the cathedral. But in the previous trip, the one where I misplaced the camera (left in a LANChile plane) and even at home, there were those opportunities where I felt like an unarmed gunslinger. Probably if I had had a camera my shyness would have kept me from taking the shot. But I cannot say.

So here are the captions of a few images that only remain in my memory, and probably in a slightly different way in the memories of many others.

- Board meeting. The top brass of a big chemical company that I will not name, holding an impromptu business lunch during the chemical fair Achema. The suits and the laptops contrasted with seating on the floor and the hot dogs and beer in plastic cups that they were eating.

- Body Armor. A student demonstration, with anarchist overtones, was shadowed by a bunch of riot police in full body armor, and seemingly eager to have an excuse to start breaking heads. Half the RP were women, and they were the ones checking more the clubs.

- St. Benedict's Rule. At San Miniato al Monte, a Romanesque Benedictine monastery in the mount opposite Florence, the Prior, a very extroverted octogenarian, was allowing people who climbed the stairs to the church to visit it, even though they should have closed one hour earlier. In his white robes and wraparound Ray-Ban glasses he looked ready for anything this century can throw. I was not surprised to learn they have a full congregation.

- The Alps from above. The clear almost summer weather gave us a splendid view of the Alps, with the glaciers slowly receding from the valleys. Enough said, my vocabilary cannot do it justice.

- The Pitti chaos. It was forbidden to take photos in most buildings in Florence, but in the Palazzo Pitti was the only one where I felt the urge. The excess in decoration, that even followed a "purloined letter" approach to masterpieces, hiding them in plain sight surrounded by secondary works, so it is difficult to see the picture you are looking for.

- Hair. I would have liked to get a before and after image of my hair, to show some friends.

In the end, it is to show them to others that I really want to take photographs. Because I wish they were with me in the trip, in the street, when I see something that draws my wandering interest.  ¶ 11:12 PM 0 comments

  The Southern experience... not. Part two.

That first night I managed to sleep nine hours straight, which left me almost back to normal. Pity there was a thunderstorm outside and the day did not look good, so I stayed in the hotel, playing with the WebTV, trying to contact my only acquaintance in Atlanta, and even working a bit on the summit I was attending. If I had been in downtown I probably would have gone out, but I did not feel the need at the time.

Finally, near noon, hunger and an improvement in weather made me go out. Rather than stay at the hotel I explored the nearby mall, trying a Nathan's best cheeseburger and hot dog. Quite good, in fact. I also started to look around for some gifts, both for my mother and my wife, but either things were not special enough, or they were too expensive, even with the favorable dollar/euro exchange. But I got a couple of gadgets at a Discovery Channel shop, and marked a few places for more exploration later.

Walking is generally a pleasurable activity for me, usually because I think better while marching. So I walked among the big hotel chain and the nice restaurants in Buckhead, looking for Southern mansions or something attiring, besides malls, high rises and trees. I was tempted to attend a Sunday service at a Baptist church, wondering how would it score against the Hollywood images, but went into a Border's instead. I try to respect other people's beliefs, and I was sure they would inmediately spot my foreignness. Books, however, make me feel at home. So I stayed there for two hours and left with eight books. To walk around a bit more, but now with an extra reason to get back to the hotel.

Adding the gifts, I suspected my luggage had become insufficient, and I expected to get a hefty set of documentation at the summit, considering how much money they charged for it, so I would need even more space. But that would be a problem for later. I had unread books, I had that pleasantly tired sensation from walking a few hours, I knew where I would be having my dinner (a one storey diner close by, dwarfed by a hotel and a federal building) and that I would be in a hot bath in a short while.

I had a first contact with fried scallops with jalapeño sauce and blackened chicken, and I knew I would be renewing that in the future. Then some e-mails and an early bed, as the summit started with a business/networking breakfast. In between it had networking coffee breaks, business four plate luncheons, and although it was not in the plan, dinner with some fellow attendants.

The problem for all that business and networking was that most people at the meeting were competitors, either directly or indirectly. As I was not looking to change company, between the first breakfast and lunch we had exchanged enough lies and half truths to need a scorecard. So then we switched to the non-competitors, or talking with competitors about anything but the summit itself.

In some ways it was more interesting discussing President Chavez with the owner of our Venezuelan competitor than discussing the business, specially as the cartel control laws limit a lot what can be discussed, or not. I learnt a lot more about China than I expected, and made a good rapport with some British journalists, enough to be invited for dinner at a Spanish-Japanese fusion place. Adding chorizo to a Japanese dish does not look like fusion to me, but I stuck to the Japanese part of the menu and it was quite tasty, and unusual. I still do not know if they wanted to get me drunk to pick my brains, or if it was some strange seduction technique, but I remained stalwart. I think. Getting up at 6 am, things started to get hazy around midnight.

All in all, a paranoid but interesting meeting. And I got to meet interesting people. Such as the organizer who previously was in charge of setting up War on Terror seminars and international cooperation meetings. She ended up so disgusted by its uselessness and resource squandering that she went to the private sector. I suspect she hated Belize and the Caribbean too by then.  ¶ 10:46 PM 0 comments

  Musical Interlude

Blogger has eaten the part 2 of the Southern Experience, and rather than reconstruct it I prefer to let the irritation pass till I am back in the mood. So I will reconstruct an old music CD, mainly because I am curious about its final fate and this could help to trace it.

In 2003 I joined a circle of similarly minded people, and one of the first things we did was to send a CD with music we liked to all the rest. Shortly after the CD exchange I wondered if it would be cool to have a travelling RW-CD, from one correspondent to each other, with each member adding or taking out content, always limited by the thing's capacity.

As expected, the content was music and images mostly, and I added a talisman to help it travel safely, a four leaf clover, encased in plastic. I miss it, by the way, but that is my own fault.

Despite only knowing this people for three months, and that through a highly mediated environment, I dared to suggest a theme song to each of them. I will try to upload a copy of each song to my usual depot, but I am sure most of them can be easily found.

Even more surprising to myself, in only a few cases would I change the theme song, and often not because it was not right, but because I have found a better one in the process. As well, many things have changed in the intermediate time... I also have reused some of them for similar projects, believeing the CD lost somewhere in transit. I traced three movements, but that was it...

I am not fully sure of the order, and I may well have mistaken one or two songs, but after all this was in September 2003. Also one hole that I would be grateful if someone could fill.

1. Intro - Bis, The Powerpuff girls are born!
2. Cyn 004 - Chris Isaak, Wicked Game.
3. Colin - Bob Brozman & Takashi Hirayasu, Akata Sun Duchi.
4. Kirkaholic - Feeling Good, Nina Simone.
5. Fashionpolice - Joan of Arc, Leonard Cohen.
6. Surlygirlie - Greensleeves, Lorena Mackennit.
7. Return to Nowherenear - Return to Brideshead, Geoffrey Burgon.
8. Martin - Penguin Cafe Orchestra, Music for a found Harmonium.
9. Wanderer - Like a Rolling Stone, Bob Dylan (live in 1968).
10. Zero Cool - Shakespeare's Sister, Run Silent, Run Deep.
11. Sentinel 400 - The Surf Champlers, James Bond Theme.
12. Ki~2 - Sting, Every Breath you Take.
13. Fuldog - Eurythmics, Sweet Dreams (Are Made of this). (¿? Not sure)
14. Gromit - The Pogues, And the Band played Waltzing Mathilda.
15. Wraith - Annie Lennox, A Whiter Shade of Pale.
16. Martijn - This one I could understand why I forgot.
17. Meet the Faceless - Bach, Aria, Goldberg Variations (Barenboim playing).

So you see, I need help, both to fill the holes in my memory (thanks for confirming my choice for Will), and to trace the original work. I still have that feeling I used a song from Blues Brothers.  ¶ 11:40 PM 0 comments

  The Southern experience… not. Part one.

Business trips are always less enjoyable than any other kind. Maybe even funerals, because in funerals, despite the general feeling of sadness and regret you get also to interact with family or friends (not the close family of the deceased, but the other attendants) and usually refresh the links. At least my family life thrives on marriages and wakes.

Less enjoyable, except when food is concerned. No matter the psychological disposition, I always enjoy food, and enjoy it even more when I am having great food I am not paying for. But that is an exception, and when alone I cannot indulge too much on it. That damned feeling of responsibility! But it is still something to look up to, with a bigger interest this trip as there are many opportunities for food I cannot get back home.

So, what can I do in Atlanta, besides eating and sleeping?

In my web checking, discounting both the Coca Cola museum and Jimmy Carter’s, the most attractive sights were Centennial Park and the Georgia Aquarium. Even then, the interest was minor, as the “work” mood kept me from getting excited about sights.

The trip was not bad, although nine hours in a plane is a bit long. But the book I had chosen was good (LeGuin’s The Birthday of the World), so that compensated the poor film selection (Cheaper by the Dozen 2? As rumour has it?). As well either my natural charm or my sturdy physique impressed the lady at the check-in, as with the plane full I got offered a window seat in the emergency exit, just after she said that there were no emergency exit seats available to the person before me (who looked small, but capable enough).

That helped a lot to make the flight bearable, more than the food did. The microwaved partly frozen vegetarian pizza must have been one of the most ghastly meals I have been offered in a plane, and that is saying a lot. I do not know if it is the Lost syndrome, but I could not help but wonder who would make a fine companion in a tropical island. Besides my companion, who showed there were some physical requirements for the exit, as he was as broad as he was tall, and most of it muscle, the others did not give me much trust. Quite pleasant, but in this world of headphones and noise compensation introverted people do not need to talk beyond basic politeness.

Leaving the airport was a nightmare of queue after queue, and picking up my luggage out of two different baggage claim areas. But I probably will do a specific rant for that. In short, two and a half hours after the plane landed I was taking a taxi to the hotel.

The Buckhead area of Atlanta was the former rich residential zone, and supposedly some mansions remain, though you only get to see some walls and the trees that surround them. The trees are what impressed me at first. Big, old trees almost everywhere, dominating the landscape even from the air. They even dare to obscure the high rises.

I did not go much out. I was too tired. But I made a small tour of the surrounding area, finding a mall and there chicken teriyaki with quite good noodles.

Then the frustration of not being able to satisfy my addiction. I am a web-junkie. Add jet-lag and it becomes desperation. But the hotel only had wireless access, and I had not taken a wifi capable computer. So I ended up using one of those web-TVs gizmos.

So, succeeding through pure exhaustion and web-frustration to stay awake till 10 pm, I went to sleep, at almost a normal local time.  ¶ 12:12 AM 0 comments