Indian Cool and Ladyboys

There was some Indian theme going on in Lloyd Hotel in Amsterdam 2 weeks ago when we were there for lunch on a Friday. They made a gazebo out of tin cans which was placed right by the entry hallway from the small hotel lobby to the café restaurant. The hanging tin cans remind me of thermos pack lunches in the early 70’s.





A really nice work of contemporary display art and me squinting my eyes. My colleagues have actually started to wonder why I take so many fotos every time and every where. Of course, I never dared to tell them I have this blog to post them to ;-). Fotos taken by my Nokia phone.



What’s cool with this design is the mini-TV’s inside the tin cans! It was really impressive, creative, unique, well thought of and resourceful for the artist, I reckon. The first time for me to see such minuscule teles! Really cool.

The back of the café restaurant was transformed into a snug lounge area, quite inviting in fact, and the pillows and curtains were of Indian inspired design and were made of glossy and bright Indian fabrics.


Then we saw a group of Indian ladies dressed in traditional Indian garb pass by. They caught my attention as they all look quite different to me, bigger, chunkier, taller, and their eyes and facial features were hard and sharper than normal, hmmm.

I whispered to my two colleagues and told them the Indian ladies are ladyboys.


“Huh, how would you know that?” the two chorused seeming to read each other’s minds as their curiosity piqued.


“Trust me, I am Asian, I just know.”

Well, well, they do not want to believe me? They even swore saying I am wrong, TOTALLY wrong. Whatever. I think they just do not see it, they do not have the gift of seeing it, haha. No wonder there are so many European guys in Asia getting scammed thinking they went to bed with a gal when she, or rather he was a ladyboy. Ignorance is bliss.

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Ocean from shipwreck

http://www.iredale.de/maritime/peter1.htm This the web site where there are photos of the Peter Iredale before it went down and right after in 1906 as well as one from 1999.

Hidey Hole Under the Rock

From one side you could really see the hidey hole or small cave that was under Teakettle Rock. It makes you wonder how many wild animals have hiden there during all the thousands of years since that volcano spit the rock out and it cooled. Bobcats, mountain lions, coyotes, wolves, skunks, foxes, and of course mice and rats. And did any Native Americans, or cowboys, or outlaws, or even kids wait out rain storms in it. I saw no sign of it at this point. The sand didn't look like it had been disturbed that much except by where Tuffee went in took a quick sniff and came back out. No I decided not to craw inside. The though of the other kinds of creatures that could be in there kept me out. Like spiders, scorpions, and other bugs. There could have even been a snake in the far back corner but I didn't think so. Mostly it was my old, decrepit body that said if you get down and in there you might not be able to get back out.

If It's Thanksgiving It's At Mom and Dad's

Thanksgiving >
The word instantly puts a chill down the spine of my side of the family. Yes, there will be turkey, great food, and a swell party - especially for the blissfully unaware fifteen kids running amok in my parents' basement, but with the joy comes the quiet dread of getting ready. It starts in August when my mother pulls her notes from last year, and starts worrying. It ends about five minutes before five, when the first guest arrives and my Dad is harnessed to his leaf blower diligently chasing that last leaf off the premises. When car lights sweep up the driveway, the leaves will NOT be seen. (Never mind that the house is sitting on almost three wooded acres, and it'’s pitch dark by party time.)

You will find my mother sighing in the Kitchen- she has been up since dawn cooking, completely dressed and ready since mid afternoon, but there is always something- like Dad killing himself outside, buzzing around the patio, or the little incident last year when there was no hot water at zero hour because Dad forgot to over ride the timer. (He keeps Mom on a very strict schedule water wise.) My mother, the model of self control, grits her teeth and accepts that she has done all that she can do. She and my sister set the tables the Sunday before, strategizing over the one in the family room which could block the football game, and how many kids will actually sit in a chair. She started cooking in September and finishes just before six- dinner time.

Thanksgiving is one of three major family gatherings. My poor mother is down to one rather distant first cousin on her side, but my father's side is up to about thirty, not even counting our branch which is almost thirty by itself. Back in the dawn of time, like the early sixties, my grandparents had the whole family over to their house on Upton Street. When they got older, their three children took over. My Aunt Catherine got Greek Easter, my Uncle Nick took Christmas and my dad ended up with Thanksgiving. Back then the clan topped out at around twenty five; now we are approaching sixty. New babies and people keep coming. Last year we had twins, and this year my niece is getting married.

At this point, my mother would give her eyeteeth, her turkey collection and all her VCRS NOT to do this. (OK- maybe not the VCRS) But my Dad has laid down the law- if he's still breathing, we're still doing it. My cousin, John brings the cheesecake that his mother used to bring. My cousin, Anne, who is from Louisiana, brings a pecan pie. My brother, Peter arrives from Michigan and bartends. Uncle Nick brings the rum cake. My sister and I mash the potatoes. My brother, Roger started making Greek chicken soup one year, and now he can't stop. That's only a few of the many hands that get it done. It's over when my sister corrals her sons to take all the chairs and tables back downstairs until next year. It's usually around 8:00, but it feels like midnight.

So we go on, and despite all the holiday angst, I know we have a lot to be thankful for: our ever expanding family and my parents who keep us glued together-a basement full of children-all excited that they are cousins, turkey on the table, and hopefully -plenty of hot water. I know we are lucky, and at least this year, it's raining...no leaf blower.

Tombstone Tuesday :: William & Sophia Wise

WILLIAM P. / 1852-1935 / SOPHIA E. / 1850-1916 / WISE
William and Sophia (Dunfee) Wise are my 2nd great grandparents. They are buried in Scott-Keister Cemetery in Etna-Troy Township, Whitley County, Indiana alongside three of their four children as well as several grandchildren. Photograph taken July 14, ...

You Know You Are Obsessed When...

...you're tempted to stop and examine every bike you see, no matter how nice or "crappy." Your walking companions are accustomed to this and stop in front of bicycles pre-emptively when you are with them.



... you walk by a freshly painted house or fence and wonder what the closest matching RAL colour code would be. You narrow it down to two, both of which you remember by heart.



...you get confused when trying to walk places. You are accustomed to the cycling route.



...you happen upon a scenic spot, and you wonder how well your bike would photograph there.



...it is impossible to snap a photo inside your apartment without getting at least a small piece of bike in the frame.

...you decide to rent a boat on vacation, and it ends up being a pedal boat.



...you arrive in a foreign country and the first thing you do is sort out your bike situation. Later you also tend to the small stuff, like making sure your mobile phone works and that you can withdraw cash. You don't even bother with public transport.



Bicycle in Vienna? Check! Despite the pouring rain and the worst jetlag ever.

Thunderbird Dream Catcher