The morning clouds promised rain. And they made good the promise.
* * * * * * *
We got up, breakfasted, then climbed on the bus for a bit of a poke around the sights of Dunedin. First we made a stop at the steepest street in the world (seriously – hard to tell from the pictures, but it’s pretty damned impressive). The story goes that the city was laid out by planners in London who had never been to New Zealand and didn’t think that the reports of the topography of the area could possibly be correct. So they just laid out everything in a nice grid, and let the locals cope best they could.
True or not, makes a good story.
* * * * * * *
Then we climbed up to Signal Hill overlooking the city. It was here that the clouds turned to actual rain, forcing not only the members of our group to run for cover, but likewise a vanload of students from the University of Otago who had a bunch of seismic sensors set up around the Centennial Monument.
We wound back down into the city, to the gorgeous Dunedin Railway Station.
I’m not usually a big fan of Victorian/Edwardian ‘gingerbread’ architecture – such ornate structures are a little too self-congratulatory for my tastes (even though our house falls into this category…). But there is no doubt that this station is a wonderful example of the period, and the level of craftsmanship on display in almost every facet of the building is remarkable and something I can respect. The large booking hall has an intricate mosaic tile floor made up of some 750,000 individual tiles, and looks stunning. Likewise, the contrasting black/white of the building’s exterior stone is very striking. The whole thing underwent extensive refurbishing in the 1990s, and shows it.
* * * * * * *
Following a couple of other stops, we got back to the hotel in time for lunch. Martha and I decided to go check out the Speight’s Brewery just around the corner, where they have a nice restaurant/cafe.
The lunch was good – and there was a whole lot of it, as we had come to expect. The beer was even better, on a par with most of the decent micro-brews I’ve had at brew-pubs in the States.
After, we did a bit of walking around, then went back to the hotel to rest before the late-afternoon rehearsal.
* * * * * * *
The rain started up again, and the temperature dropped. I got a little take-away Chinese food to have in the hotel room for when Martha got back from her rehearsal. There wasn’t going to be time to get a real meal before the concert that evening.
The concert was just a couple of blocks from our hotel, at St. Paul’s Cathedral on the Octagon. It’s a beautiful old church, and certainly something to see.
But that night it mostly felt cold and almost aloof. The nasty weather kept attendance to the concert down, so it felt like the large space of the cathedral was empty. Further, there was a problem with the sound system, meaning that the usual chatter and introductions from the Choir Director couldn’t be understood through most of the space – even trying to project her voice didn’t work very well, and most people were completely befuddled as to what was going on. When the choir took a break in their performance, a lot of people thought that they were finished and just left.
My friend ML and I again tried to sell CDs. We failed dismally.
* * * * * * *
Following the concert, there was a very nice reception for everyone in the church basement meeting area. There we could actually hear what people were saying, and the whole atmosphere was warm and friendly, with tea and cookies/small cakes that were just delicious.
We stayed a while, headed out when the rest of the choir went to go. Though Helen, our guide, offered to make arrangements to have taxis on hand, Martha and I just elected to walk back to the hotel.
I decided to pop in to a little Greek place across the street from our hotel for a little something more substantial. The fellow who owned the place was friendly, but barely spoke any English. His Gyro was one of the best I’ve ever had.
Jim Downey
Filed under: Alzheimer's, Ballistics, Failure, Feedback, Guns, Marketing, Music, Predictions, Science, Science Fiction, Writing stuff
I’m a blockhead.
No, really. Samuel Johnson’s quote establishes it beyond a doubt:
“No man but a blockhead ever wrote, except for money.”
For years I listened to people go on and on about how beneficial my writing about being a care-giver was. All the praise, the sharing, the requests to write more, to collect my writings into a book. The final result has been for Her Final Year to sell a grand total of 32 copies, after years of work and months of flogging the book. What a staggering success.
Yup, a blockhead.
Also for years now I’ve listened to countless proclamations of how incredible and valuable Ballistics By The Inch is. How it is an amazing resource for anyone interested in hard data. This has been in discussions on different forums and blogs which I have stumbled upon. And it’s reflected in the hits & usage of the site, as well, with over 8 million hits total and something on the order of 500,000 unique visitors. There’ve been plenty of people who have written me, thanking me, telling me that we should accept donations to support our work. So, for the re-launch we have done just that – added a way for people to show how much they value the site with a small donation. And in the short time we’ve had the new site up we’ve had over 5,000 unique visitors, and gotten just one donation of $10. At that rate, we’d have gotten a stunning total of $1,000 in donations since the start – it wouldn’t even cover the cost of hosting the website.
Yup, a blockhead.
My novel has been downloaded over 35,000 times in the last 5 years. People have told me they love it, that it’s brilliant and just like the classic SF of the golden era. Sometime in the next few weeks we’ll offer a self-published version of the book in hardcopy and for the Kindle. And I’m not so much a blockhead that I expect to actually sell copies of the thing. But I bet – I just bet – that somehow I’ll manage to be disappointed, nonetheless. Probably when I start getting complaints that the book is no longer free.
Screw it. I swear, I am seriously tempted to just shut down all the websites. Yup, BBTI too. Just leave a brief description of the project up with an email address where people can contact me to buy access to the data. Like the song says:
Little Joe never once gave it away
Everybody had to pay and pay
A hustle here and a hustle there
New York City’s the place where
They said hey babe, take a walk on the wild side
They said hey Joe, take a walk on the wild side
But being a blockhead, we’ll see what happens.
Jim Downey
(Cross posted to the BBTI blog.)
The cold & wind of the night before was part of a front moving in. So the morning came with a brilliant blue sky with few clouds and a significant wind chill.
* * * * * * *
Breakfast was . . . a disappointment. There was plenty of everything, but all of it was lukewarm. Here’s what I noted on Facebook at the time:
Bright & surly this morning. Our hotel specializes in gorgeous views and somewhat tepid breakfast. As this included the coffee, I’m not sure the trade-off was worth it.
One got the impression that the Peppers Resort wasn’t really set up to handle groups.
We packed up, loaded up the bus, popped down to the shore of Lake Tekapo where there is the Church of the Good Shepard, a popular tourist spot. It’s quite picturesque, and good images of it can be found here, but it’s also in the distance in this image I took the day before:
We’d hoped to be able to get in to see the church interior, perhaps for the choir to have a chance to sing in such a beautiful spot. But the local caretakers weren’t willing to open it up for our group. Surprisingly. So we had to settle for just looking around the outside, sheltering from the cold wind as best we could.
The bus was warm and welcoming.
* * * * * * *
We drove southeast, through the Mackenzie Basin, a largely empty place popular with tourists, particularly people who like to do gliding (air currents from the Southern Alps make it ideal some times of the year). It’s probably best known outside New Zealand for being the ‘land of Rohan’ from the Lord of the Rings movies.
* * * * * * *
Dunedin (pronounced “done Eden”) was our destination. We rolled into the town in the early afternoon, during a rainstorm.
After getting settled in our hotel, Martha decided to just rest a bit in the room. I opted to go out and about with our friend ML, exploring the city.
We headed down the main street, towards ‘the Octagon.’ Which features a large bronze statue of Robert Burns. That, and the bagpipe-playing buskers, kinda give some indication of the history of the city. Yeah, it was settled by Scots in the middle of the 19th century, and it has maintained a strong Scottish identity to this day. Lots of restaurants and pubs have a Scottish/Gaelic flavor.
ML and I walked pretty much the full length of the main commercial street, pausing to look into this or that shop. I was on the lookout for some nice greenstone (Pounamu – a kind of jade native to the South Island – more on this later), and ML was looking for some (more) fabled NZ woolen yarn. Between us we managed to enjoy a couple of hours walking and shopping.
* * * * * * *
After a bit of rest back at the hotel, Martha, ML, and I went in quest of some dinner, and to give Martha a chance to check out the central city. We stopped at St. Paul’s Cathedral on the Octagon – the location of the choir’s performance the next evening. The rain from earlier in the day had cleared off, and while it was chilly it was quite nice for an evening walk.
We settled on dinner at a pub near the hotel. They had good local beer on tap – I found out that it came from the brewery literally around the corner, and made a mental note to stop in there when I had a chance the next day. The pub-food we had was all very yummy, and overly generous in portion size. That was one thing we noticed at most pubs and mid-level restaurants: portion sizes were always quite large, at least as big as the (too big) portion sizes you get here in the U.S. At more upscale restaurants this wasn’t the case (also as you usually find here).
We crashed relatively early. All the travel was starting to take a toll, even as enjoyable as it was.
Jim Downey
Filed under: Architecture, Art, Mark Twain, Music, N. Am. Welsh Choir, New Zealand, Travel
There’s the grey of spring, and then the grey of fall. Temps and clouds in Wellington were about the same as we had left back in Missouri, but somehow it felt warmer . . .
* * * * * * *
I looked out the window of our hotel room. I was not expecting Richard M. Nixon wearing an afro to look back at me. This was the horror of it:
I know one can become a bit overwhelmed when traveling to foreign climes, but for a moment I was wondering whether my sanity had “lit out for the provinces.”
* * * * * * *
Breakfast, then an optional tour through the city with Helen on our bus. First we went up to Mount Victoria, a gorgeous vantage point at which to enjoy the whole city (and location for a couple of scenes from Lord of the Rings). This was followed up with a visit to Te Papa Tongarewa – the national museum and gallery of New Zealand.
It’s a very interesting place, a mix of the traditional and the innovative. They’ve got a decent collection of modern art, and a lot of good stuff covering the history and culture of NZ, from the earliest settlements of the Maori to the present day. But what I found to be most enjoyable was the use of the built space inside the museum: it isn’t just simple layers of different floors, but rather incorporates multiple layers of open space/mezzanines so that you enjoy the exhibits from many different perspectives, creating a visual melding of the different aspects of New Zealand depending on where you are. It’s a very effective bit of architecture, and the museum staff make use of it very very well.
Martha, ML, and I spent several hours enjoying the place, including a break for some refreshments at one of the museum cafes. Then it was off for a walk back to our hotel.
* * * * * * *
Te Papa sits right on the waterfront of Wellington Harbor, and our hotel in the city center just a couple of blocks from the waterfront. So it was an enjoyable walk back to the hotel, past docks and seaside restaurants, then into the main shopping and restaurant area of downtown. We spent a good time just enjoying and doing a bit of shopping, then grabbed some lunch at a little local hole-in-the wall place.
Back to the hotel to relax a bit. Martha had a rehearsal that afternoon, I popped out to a grocery store and got some ‘picnic’ type items for a light dinner for us.
* * * * * * *
I always enjoy going to grocery stores in other countries. It is one of the best ways to get a handle on how local people live, and to see the differences between their culture and my own.
I’d mentioned previously I found NZ to be more like the US than like the UK or Europe. This was another manifestation of that. Yeah, there were clear differences between this grocery store and the ones at home – different brands, some different packaging approaches (such as cat and dog food in long tubes, similar to a sausage). But for the most part you could drop any American in the place and they’d feel right at home. The salad bar and deli areas were just like back home, though with meat pies and a couple of other such distinctions. There was more lamb than you’d find in most meat cases, but otherwise it was familiar. Baked goods on display were typical. Snacks and the beer/wine department like you’d find in a Hy-Vee store here.
All in all, perfectly normal.
* * * * * * *
ML and I again went with the choir when they went to the Opera House that evening, and we set up to sell CDs in the lobby. It was a great place, and was in pretty good shape, what you would expect of a classic Edwardian structure which has been renovated and cared for.
But the weather turned colder and wetter, and attendance at the performance that evening was fairly light. The performance itself, which included the Wellington Male Voice Choir as well, was quite good. We only sold a few CDs.
* * * * * * *
Following the performance, we were all invited to the Welsh Dragon Bar – a former public toilet which now plays off that history (and the Welsh connection) with their motto: “come in for a leek.” It’s owned by a Welsh emigre, and is generally considered the best (only?) Welsh pub in the Southern Hemisphere.
They’d made a bunch of Welsh & NZ finger food for the group, all of it welcome and quite tasty. The bar was mobbed, and we kept the place hopping with happy voices for a good while, some of the choir members staying on until closing time.
But not me, nor Martha. We went back to the hotel and crashed. We had to be traveling again early in the morning, catching a flight to the South Island.
Jim Downey
The clouds of morning brought rain and grey, dulling the view out the bus windows as we headed south.
But that turned out to be the least of our troubles…
* * * * * * *
So, we got up, had breakfast, lugged our bags down to the bus. The idea was that we would drive south to Wellington, New Zealand’s capital city, with stops at several points along the way to do some sight-seeing. This in particular was to include Lake Taupo and the surrounding area, including the Huka Falls, then on to a luxurious lunch at a winery before rolling into Wellington late afternoon.
That was the theory.
Things started going wrong when we discovered that we were one person short on the bus. A quick check found that one member of the group, an elderly woman who was a friend and supporter of the choir, was still in her room. She had gone off with family in Rotorua after the concert the day before, so had missed the discussion we’d had about plans for this morning. But she was also not feeling well, and was showing signs of confusion as they got her settled on the bus.
* * * * * * *
We were running a bit late due to the aforementioned delay and then the condition of the roads as we wound through the mountains of the central north island. Helen, our guide, tried to interest the choir and get everyone to relax with a series of CDs of local music played over the bus’s sound system. This included a bunch of what she characterized as “older folk-music” (stuff from the 1950s). Here’s how I characterized it on facebook:
…we’re talking about the Kiwi version of “Battle of New Orleans” and similar faux-Western or hillbilly stuff.
The horror, the horror . . .
I put in ear plugs. Then my noise-canceling headphones. Then I started wondering how hard it would be to break into the bus that evening and disable the sound system.
* * * * * * *
We stopped at Huka Falls. It was gorgeous:
and
* * * * * * *
After a stop at the nearby gift shop for snacks and postcards, we all started to pile back onto the bus.
But the elderly woman I mentioned earlier was feeling a little shaky, needed help walking back to the bus. Ron, one of the choristers, who is also a ICU nurse (and the choir’s unofficial medic when they tour), got her settled in her seat and then did an assessment of her vitals. He consulted with another chorister who is a medical professional. Together, they decided that the woman needed urgent medical attention.
We headed into the nearby town of Taupo, where there was a hospital.
* * * * * * *
It was a good decision, and probably saved the woman’s life. It turned out that she had pneumonia – a significant danger for anyone who is elderly.
We spent about 90 minutes at the hospital, as she was checked out and her condition determined. As noted, she had family who were in Rotorua, but my friend ML was tapped to stay with her until they were contacted and able to come see to the woman’s care. Why her? She’s smart, a lawyer, has a great deal of experience traveling and dealing with legal systems around the world, and wasn’t a chorister – meaning that she could miss part of the tour if necessary, and not hurt the make-up of the choir. She’s also stubborn enough to stand up to any bureaucratic problems which might occur, not to mention dealing with a cantankerous elderly woman who was more than a little certain that she didn’t need such medical fuss.
We got back on the road. Helen had contacted the winery where we had been scheduled to lunch, let them know we had a medical emergency which had messed up our plans. Once we were out of town she contacted them again, and sorted out rescheduling.
* * * * * * *
The bad news was that the rehearsal which had been scheduled for that evening with the Wellington male Voice Choir had to be canceled, because we were going to run too late to be able to use the reserved space.
The good news was that the weather cleared, and we’d be able to have a relaxed, but late, lunch after all. It wasn’t necessary to try and get through quickly.
The good news for most, that is. For Martha and I, it also meant we had to cancel our evening plans to get together with another person involved in the shooting sports, as well as her family and some friends from Wales. A shame.
* * * * * * *
We had lunch at the Mission Estate Winery in the Hawkes Bay area. It was delicious, both in terms of the quality of the food & wine, as well as in terms of the location & view.
Afterward, the choir gathered down the hill from the site of the winery, at a natural amphitheater which has been the location of many famous concerts. On this occasion the only audience were those of us traveling with them. Well, and a field of sheep.
I think we all enjoyed it. I did. The sheep seemed to. Hard to say.
* * * * * * *
We had given Martha’s phone to ML – our texting plan allowed us easy communication between the two phones, even overseas. She let us know that the family of the elderly woman had arrived and taken over seeing to her needs. She was going to require hospital care for at least several days. ML would catch the next flight to Wellington, and beat us there.
I almost envied her, not having to listen to more folk music.
* * * * * * *
We rolled into Wellington that evening. Our hotel was the Rydges Wellington – a very nice accommodation right downtown.
We dropped our bags off, then met ML in the lobby to go to dinner. Because she had gotten in earlier, she’d had a chance to scope things out in the area, and recommended a nice Dutch-inspired pub (there is a significant Dutch component to New Zealand’s history) just down the street. Some light dinner and a couple of good local ales helped my mood considerably.
Jim Downey
Filed under: Guns, Music, N. Am. Welsh Choir, New Zealand, Society, Travel
Looking out the window of our hotel room, clouds of steam rose from the various hot thermal springs and mud pools near the hotel and then drifted through the trees.
* * * * * * * *
Sunday morning we had some free time, with a number of different options open to us. I decided to have a nice walk in the redwoods of the Whakarewarewa forest. A little over a century ago there was an effort to see whether redwoods would grow well in this part of the North Island. They did OK, but not as well as some other species, so the effort was mostly abandoned, leaving a nice sized grove (about 15 acres) of coastal redwoods. What’s a little odd, is that they also have a mix of tree ferns. But it made for a very nice walk of about an hour.
* * * * * * *
I got back to the hotel to find that Martha had gone into town to do a bit of shopping. We didn’t have anything going on until that afternoon’s concert. I decided to try calling another contact I had concerning the shooting sports, a man named Don Perry. Don was a driving force behind the local shooting club, and one of the major players in bringing the 2013 Australasian IPSCAA pistol championships to Rotorua.
Don answered his phone, had been hoping that I would call. “Where you at?”
“At the Holiday Inn. Tell me where to go, and I’ll get a taxi out to the club.”
“Don’t be absurd. That’d cost you a small fortune. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
I think he was two minutes late. I didn’t mind.
* * * * * * *
Again, I’m going to write about this more completely for Guns.com, but let me say that what Don and the other members of his club are trying to do in preparation for the 2013 IPSC event is nothing short of stunning. Seriously, they’re hard at work to take a decent-sized shooting range and turn it into probably the largest and most varied range in the world. It’s huge – everything from a score of short (25 meter) and medium (50 meter) shooting bays to a 180 and a 200 meter rifle range, and about a dozen different long-range (50 to 100 meter) bays where different tactical scenarios can be set up which competitors will have to move through. And all of these – all of them – have to have side and back berms which are 5 meters (16 feet) high, in some places almost twice that. Here’s a shot of a large CAT in the distance building one of the tall berms:
* * * * * * *
I spent about an hour tromping around the range with Don. In addition to the impressive scope of what they’re building, the site is situated in a gorgeous and mostly remote valley, which makes building the range and getting the necessary permits much easier, since it doesn’t present any kind of problem for neighboring houses or suchlike. If they can pull it all together, they will have a world class facility in one of the most beautiful locations imaginable.
When we were done, Don gave me a lift back to the hotel.
* * * * * * *
Martha and I had a bite of lunch before it was time for the choir to go to their pre-performance rehearsal. Our friend ML and I were the designated “sales team” for the choir, handling CD sales, handing out the programs for each concert, et cetera. We went along to help get things set up.
Good thing we did, too – there was a fair amount of set-up necessary at the church (St. Lukes), and the choir accompanist had forgotten something back at the hotel. ML popped out to get that, I took care of getting the display table ready and hanging a Welsh flag in the front window of the church. Handy that I had my little emergency kit with me, with 30′ of Spiderwire in it.
* * * * * * *
Since the choir was performing in a church, it was against the law to charge admission, even though the proceeds were going to help with rebuilding damage from the Christchurch earthquake. But they have this handy Maori term which is commonly used in New Zealand: Koha. The closest English is ‘donation’ or ‘gift’, but there’s more to it than that – it contains an element of respect. You show more respect, and gain more respect, by making a nicer gift/donation. So the little basket we set up had a note on it which simply said “Admission by Koha.”
Given that the local Welsh heritage society had been the ones to organize the venue for the choir, much of the audience were of Welsh settler stock, and they appreciated the choir coming. Donations were generous. And once the performance was done, more than a few people stopped by the basket to increase their Koha.
Because yeah, it was a great performance. The church was quite full, the acoustics good, the audience enthusiastic listeners and participants whenever they were offered the opportunity to join in (plus some times when they decided to join in anyway). ML and I sold a fair number of CDs, and a good time was had by all.
* * * * * * *
When the performance and chatting with the audience was all done, we loaded back on the bus. It stopped in the downtown area to drop off those who wanted to get something to eat there, but Martha and I decided to just grab something from the Bar Menu at the hotel. ML joined us, and we had a good meal, relaxing over drinks in the large lobby area. It was a good ending to a busy day.
Jim Downey
Filed under: Art, Fireworks, Music, N. Am. Welsh Choir, New Zealand, Travel
Clouds of steam issued out of the bathroom. The natural gas pipeline had been repaired.
Ah…
* * * * * * *
Breakfast was good. We packed up, were downstairs to wait with the rest of the group. Everyone was on the bus before our scheduled departure time – impressive!
What was also impressive was the way Helen, our guide, handled questions which would have made me throw things at people. Best example that morning was “Does the sun rise in the west here?”
Sheesh.
* * * * * * *
We headed mostly south, towards the Waitomo Glowworm Caves. It was pretty country, like much of what we saw of New Zealand: beautiful rolling hills, lush, green, with dairy, sheep, and deer farms. To be honest, it reminded me of parts of Wales, or parts of the Ozarks. It took about three hours for us to get to the caves.
The caves themselves are a significant tourist attraction, though the whole experience wasn’t anything as horrid as many such places I’ve been. This is in part due to the delicate ecological condition of the caves, and the need to control traffic through them (as well as the impact which tourists have on the area around the caves.) The structures for bathrooms, and ticketing, and cafes, and the inevitable gift shop are all under a large clear double membrane which has air forced into the sandwich. It looks like a cross between a geodesic dome and bubble-wrap.
But it kept us dry (it had been raining most of the drive) and was a bit warmer than just being in the open. We got our tickets, went down into the caves as a group.
Nice caves, but nothing spectacular, part of a Karst plane such as we have here. Indeed, we have a cave on our own property which isn’t a whole lot smaller.
It was cool when the choir all gathered around and sang in the ‘cathedral’ of the cave. Excellent acoustics.
And then there were the glowworms . . .
* * * * * * *
These glowworms anchor themselves to parts of the ceiling of the cave, then let down long silk snares. The worm (a larval stage) then feeds off of mosquitos and other small flying insects which get caught in the snares when they’re attracted to the light of the worm.
When you turn off other light sources, the ceiling filled with glowworms looks remarkably like the sky filled with stars.
It’s very cool.
* * * * * * *
After the choir swept through the gift shop on the way out, we made our way to Otorohanga, a small town nearby. We took a break there for lunch (and shopping! Mustn’t forget the shopping! Good lord, did the members of the choir know how to support the tourist industry!)
I think it was the first time I tried the local version of fast-food: a pie. Meaning a small meat pie. Usually some combination of beef, chicken, lamb, but occasionally other varieties are available (and noted on the menu), combined with a thick sauce/gravy which might include potato or onion. All backed into a small round pie crust (about 3 or 4″ diameter, typically.) I had these a number of times on the trip, and I don’t think I ever had one which wasn’t extremely tasty.
* * * * * * *
As I noted on my Facebook page that day:
Safety quote from the morning paper: “When igniting a roman candle held between the buttocks, remember to use your free hand to protect the family jewels.”
Yeah, Guy Fawkes Day was coming. The Kiwis seem to have their own home-grown rednecks like the ones I grew up with.
* * * * * * *
We continued on to Rotorua, enjoying more of the landscape as we crossed the island heading east. After a brief tour around the city in our bus, we were deposited at the hotel to sort out rooms and get settled for a bit before our evening festivities.
From the tour itinerary:
Depart by coach to Te Puia, Maori Institute for your Maori dinner experience. Tonight you will enjoy an in depth experience of the customs and traditions of the Maori. The evening will begin with a traditional powhiri or Maori welcoming ceremony, next a warrior’s challenge and then a full kapa haka or Maori performing arts concert. Dinner tonight will be a modern version of the traditional Maori style of cooking, in a hangi pit where kai (food)– is steam-cooked by hot rocks in the earth. Following dessert, see the world famous Pohutu geyser illuminated against the night sky, while enjoying a hot drink. Transfer back to the hotel following your experience.
Actually, that’s not a bad description of what actually happened. Te Puia was pretty cool, all in all, though once again there was a touristy element to the whole thing. Seeing the haka is always fun, and the performers clearly enjoyed playing it to the hilt.
The geyser was cool. Er, you know what I mean. We sat on rock ledges overlooking the geyser, which were toasty warm from the geothermal vents, while the performers from Te Puia wrapped up the evening’s show. Well, they tried to, though the choir had to return the favor of song with a couple of pieces from their repretoire. It was enjoyed by all.
The bus came and fetched us, took us back to the hotel to crash.
Jim Downey
Filed under: Art, Astronomy, Heinlein, Jefferson Starship, Music, Robert A. Heinlein
Lovely:
Simply lovely.
Jim Downey
*And yes, that would have made a great soundtrack for the vid.
No, not this:
But rather, this:
They’re starting to crawl up your trees now, and in the coming weeks, there are going to be billions — that’s with a “b” — of cicadas across the Midwest, mating and laying eggs on limbs.
And when the choir of 13-year cycle cicadas starts singing its mating song in unison, it might seem a little annoying, Bruce Barrett said. Rather than covering your ears and running for cover, though, Barrett encourages Columbians to sit back and enjoy the show.
“It’s one of those magical moments in nature,” said Barrett, a professor of entomology at the University of Missouri. “If you stop and think about it, this is really neat. Nature is elegant and sophisticatedly beautiful.”
* * * * * * *
It’s still early, but they’re already starting to sing. As I was working in the garden yesterday, you’d hear it start, building from the background buzz. Not the full chorus yet, just some warming up.
It’s interesting – the background buzz is very much like the slight ringing I have from tinnitus. So it is easy to ignore. But when they start to sing in unison, I notice.
* * * * * * *
The dog notices, too. He’s been distracted on our morning walks through the neighborhood. Not so much by the sound, as by the movement. For him, the cicadas are snacks-on-the-wing.
* * * * * * *
He’s not alone:
Just as Bubba Blue told Forrest Gump about shrimp in the classic movie, you can do just about anything with cicadas in the kitchen. You can boil ’em, fry ’em, bake ’em, saute ’em. You can make cicada pie, cicada wontons or cicada soup. Sprinkle some minced cicadas into your cereal. Or break out the blender, and you can quickly create a cicada smoothie or a fresh batch of cicada salsa.
Jenna Jadin of the University of Maryland Cicadamaniacs offers a Cicadalicious recipe for Emergence Cookies. “These should look like cicadas emerging out of a little pile of chunky mud!”
How about cicada-portobella quiche? Or “El Chirper” tacos?
* * * * * * *
With apologies to His Majesty:
In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for stars thou art, and unto stars shalt thou return.
Pizza, anyone?
Jim Downey
Clever:
From April, 2003 until August, 2006, the Canada-France-Hawaii Telescope watched four parts of the sky as often as possible. Armed with the largest digital camera in the known universe, CFHT monitored these four fields for a special type of supernova (called Type Ia) which are created by the thermonuclear detonation of one or more white-dwarf stars. These explosions are extremely energetic, and can be seen across vast distances in space.
The resulting 241 Type 1a supernova which were documented were then assigned a musical note, according to distance, duration, and intensity. A delightful little ‘sonata’ was the result:
It may seem a bit silly to do this, assigning an arbitrary note to such data. But I think it helps non-scientists appreciate some aspect of the research and what it means. No, don’t take the whole thing literally, or even very seriously – but rejoice in this artistic interpretation of the wonder of the universe.
Jim Downey
Communion Of Dreams 