Salty Dogs
Svend, Sharon, Victor and I enjoyed a weekend of camping at a state park by the Gulf coast. Much of the area is marshy and treeless, but there's a good stretch around Rockport that has these fantastic windswept live oaks. Another oak tree, sheltered from the coastal winds somewhat, has survived more than 1,000 years:



We had a nice walk on the beach. Mustang Island is like the beach at Margarita Island (in Venezuela) in a way -- same long straight stretch of beach and rough surf. But the Texas beaches are lacking in hoards of holiday'ers as the water is still pretty cool. On the way home we made a stop at the Aransas National Wildlife Refuge and were rewarded with an excellent sighting of a pair of Whooping Cranes poking around in the shallows along with a pair of javelina hogs. I didn't have a chance to process any of Sharon's photography, so like the picture of the tree above, this one is someone else's:



Whooping Cranes are making a comeback from near extinction. At one time, about fifty years ago, there were only fifteen birds, which migrate between this area and Wood Buffalo National Park in northern Canada. Now there are a couple of hundred. We didn't see any javelina's up close this time, which is probably a very good thing as Victor would have been hard to control on his leash.

The trip home was somewhat eventful. I missed stopping for gas when we were on E and pushed it too far - making it only 26 of the 30 miles to the next station. We called AAA and had a roadside picnic waiting for them to arrive. Then a nice rancher dude stopped and helped us out, fetching a gas can from his parent's ranch up the road then driving me to the station. It was a welcome does of unsolicited human kindness - a wonderful thing every now and then. Next event also happened about four miles short of our goal: home. A tire on our popup camper blew out. We didn't stop immediately, so when we pulled over most of the tire was gone. We had a spare, but no wheel wrench. After some deliberation, and not wanting to be late to get seats to watch the Oscar's at the Alamo Drafthouse, we decided to truck on rather than leave the trailer at the scene and scraped it the rest of the way home on the rim. Our guilty trail is now emblazoned with one thin white line all the way to our driveway. We would have been smart to hire a hybrid limosine like everyone heading to the Kodak theatre last night. We made it to the show on time and spent a relaxing fun evening watching the awards show on the big screen in HD. Commercials were replaced with clips of nominees past work - like Clint Eastwood singing in Paint Your Wagon. And Martin Scorcese's abundent tears for Thelma Schoonmaker's award acceptance signalled the "tear in your beer" event -- $1.50 Lone Stars.

  posted by John : 8:29 AM

 
Big Rio Grande River
Hey y'all, here's something to think about ... a river trip out of Terlingua, TX through Big Bend National Park... either a Music trip, featuring Slaid Cleaves or Butch Hancock, or their Gourmet trip.



  posted by John : 7:29 AM

 
Mochima
We got out of Caracas for the weekend and took a short flight to Puerto La Cruz Saturday morning. We went straight to a boat dock and boarded a catamaran that would tour to some of the islands of Mochima National Park. It took a good one third of the trip for me to let go of my expectations of this being a nature tour, and to realize that the real purpose was a booze cruise. We did stop at a nice beach, where we could get out of earshot of the boat, and had a really good lunch there with our tour-mates. We were joined at the restaurant by a group of scavenging iguanas which was pretty wierd. Some of them were quite huge, and to have them walk under the table was extremely unsettling for some in the group. Back on the boat - it was La Hora Loca - every song played on their loud system was a different type of music. After enough beer we were all having fun, dancing, breaking down barriers and becoming friends. It even stopped bothering me that they didn't even have snorkels on board the boat (I need to pack my own gear next time in case we go to the coast again). Alcohol, ocean air, and a box of CDs served as the great equalizer - a necessity for a boat full of adult strangers trying to get away from real life for a few hours. After the tour, back at our hotel, I had the best sleep I've had in years.

Early the next day I went off on a pre-arranged drive to a beach on the mainland. But asked what I wanted to do, by the driver, I said I'd really like to snorkel. He seemed to think this was easily achieved (he'd lived in this carribean beach town all his life). But it wasn't so easy. The people at the scuba tour hut he went to looked at me like I was crazy (snorkeling ??). Eventually we gave up and went to the beach as planned. I figured it out and got a guy with his own boat to take us across to an island and en-route go get gear from someone in his town. So I got to spend about two hours floating and diving among the coral off the shore of a tiny little sand encrusted islet. My new favourite thing to do.


borrowed photo of a much-seen little fish

  posted by John : 3:44 AM

 
Caracas trip no. 4
Random musings...

The other day I cleared the cookies from my web browser. So now many websites come up in Spanish by default, becuase I'm coming in fresh from a Venezuealan IP address. A bit of extra language education. "Editar perfil" = edit profile. Actually today was one of those language breakthrough days I've been experiencing every once in awhile. The people I work with have begun to speak to me in their own voice, rather than in a child's Spanish. I don't understand all of it, but I'm impressed that they think I might understand. A step in the right direction. This week I've been trying to re-learn the past-tense conjugations that I forgot from long ago. Yo tengo - in past tense becomes Yo tenía (= Yo tuve), etc. I have a great forum for improving my language skills at work, where there are lots of people willing to give a gringo equal time in conversation in Spanish and English, because they're eager to learn too.

This weekend's adventures will be a roll of the dice. I've put our plans in the hands of Antonio, our local tour guide here who hopefully will book us a tour to El Parque Nacional Mochima (link)

On this trip, like the last one, I've gotten past my habit of flipping the TV on in the hotel room, by having an iPod and speakers. I've never researched how the randomization of iPods work but its interesting how the shuffles come out in a selective/predictive way at times. For the past couple of days I've woken up, and come home to a rotation of just four artists:

The Proclaimers

Dave Edmunds + Nick Lowe + Rockpile

Van Morrison

Uncle Walt's Band

Nothing wrong with that. Representatives from the British Isles, and some guys from Texas by way of North Carolina to round out the set. Anyway, I've been getting a good night's sleep ever since I shut the TV off.

Here's the lyrics to the Greg Brown song "In My New Book" that I transcribed on the flight down:

lipstick on a thermos cup
lust and whiskey fill it up
and smoke blows from the chimney to the moon

its much too cold in the midwest
chilly hands cup chilly breasts
things not said fill up every room

and as he stands there in the door
there's no room for him anymore
she lies there sayin, "honey take one last look"

I tell it all in my new book

above the city three hundred feet
a derelict in a penthouse suite
packs his suitcase for the midnight train

the rich girl couldn't face her dream
he's bitter coffee she's sweet cream
she pulls on a shirt; outside it rains

and later in the rumblin dark
he'll unwrap her broken heart
and smile the weary smile of a crook

I'll tell it all in my new book

coyote sleeps with everyone
but in the morning he's long gone
and it turns out that he was a she

tales grow tall around the fire
where there's no truth, no one's a liar
whatever mask you wear is who you'll be

there is a hole within the day
through which we make our getaway
I make mine every time I'm shook

I tell it all in my new book

we sift through culture run amok
but our rhythm is still boom boom chuck
the whole world to us now is a theme park

the tourist takes the travellers place
buys a new body a new face
a hymn is not a hymn sung with no heart

and I turn to the man of woe
and ask him where there's left to go
he points down with his shepherd's crook

I'll tell it all in my new book

When they lead you to the wood
remember that you always should
leave a trail of blackeyed peas behind

so I can find my way to you
whatever you may get in to
you are the one I always long to find

and when this crazy town is gone
we'll build a home down by a pond
I'd make you a good mate, I love to cook

I tell it all in my new book

on old cape cod there blows a gale
I'll be Jonah you be the whale
I wanna dive as deep as we can go

your ship is sailing for the dark
leave your suitcase take my heart
hold me stow me love me very slow

why must this hour come to pass
I look at you and raise my glass
our kisses cannot stop the sigh of the hook

I tell it all in my new book

I heard a young man sing a song
just that one and he was gone
off on the journey we all used to make

it was a song like rain and wind
reminded me of where I'd been
and that wild feeling I can't seem to shake

I'd like to go into some shack
and wait for that kid to come back
and sing until the walls and windows shook

and tell it all in my new book

the soldiers meet between the fights
to drink and gamble half the night
while waiting for the fresh troops to arrive

the battlements will always stand
according to the ancient plan
not a one of us gets out alive

and as we huddled in the smoke
I began to get the joke
I laughed and kissed you while the whole world shook

I'll tell it all in my new book

-------------------------------

The shuffle clique has just admitted a new member ... Wanda Jackson Fujiyama Mama

G'night.

  posted by John : 6:23 PM

 
Ch ch ch ch changes
Coming up to look around, I don't see my shadow - but do find that I now work as a contractor to the great Oracle, on a project for a company that is being seized by a dictator. Here's a google translation of the sweeping new powers Chavez has been awarded: 11 Decrees.

Happy Groundhog Day.

  posted by John : 6:39 AM

 
Pipeline
Last night down at the Red Eyed Fly, three people rarely seen among the beer joints on Red River, out past their bedtimes, attended a rockin' psychobilly surf party hosted by the multi-talented Dick Dale and his superb two piece rhythm section. The show was in the back room, a stone floored semi-outdoor add-on. Only curtains separated the space from the January air and heaters pointing down from the ceiling provided some warmth. The sound level wasn't too blasting (because we were partially outside), there was hardly any smoke (thanks to the bylaw) and we had a great view of the stage over the 90% male crowd who came to adore the king of the surf guitar. Little did we know he is an accomplished drummer and trumpet player as well. What a unique performer. Of course he have to be, if he learned to speed-pick from his Lebanese uncle, who played an oud with a turkey quill.

A borrowed picture, from a previous show:



  posted by John : 7:22 AM