From Cape Cod to Maine for the final leg of my summer travels…
Portland has been blessed by the arrival of Andrew and Rachel last summer. Rachel is involved in the art community there and I attended a vibrant outdoor fair in which she and other local artists set up booths to display and vend their wares, while bands rocked the stage in beautiful weather. We then hit up Hugo’s Restaurant, where Andrew is Chef de Cuisine and indulged in gastronomic delight with his absurd tasting menu. Both of them are incredibly creative and passionate artists and have settled into a wonderful life in Maine.
My parents celebrated their 40th (!) anniversary on 8/29/10 and joined their kids and spouses in Portland for a great dinner at Fore Street–the second best restaurant in Portland!–and we thanked them for getting married and raising us in the past 2/3rds of their life. I can not say enough about how much they have done for me; I literally owe them my life! Their marriage is an inspiration and I hope to someday match their accomplishments. Thank You and I Love You!
Three days at the family cabin on Mt. Desert Island with hiking, biking, swimming, grilling, chilling, and audio/visual creating may become a Stephen law: Minimum three days required every Summer with non-compliance punishable by no cabin time!
And to wrap it up, two days on North Haven island at the annual Lobster Ball, in which we gorge ourselves on Lobster and other assorted delicacies and enjoy one final jolt of Summer before steeling ourselves for Fall…
And Summer is done! It is especially hard to say goodbye to this summer because it has been one of my best ever. There was zero work involved for the past three months so it was pure freedom; great traveling, incredible food, amazing friends and family and inspiring nature. But as perfect as the summer was, there is a part of me that craves work (and cash!) and I am looking forward to the next 9 months of making music with children, of learning from them and experiencing their joy. Until next Summer!
As a tyke, my summers were spent in glorious Cape Cod, so I can’t be sure just how much of my love for this place is nostalgic, but darn if it isn’t a perfect place to be today! This weekend was an amazing Taylor family reunion, with MomMom and her four sons and daughter-in-laws, plus 10 of the 12 cousins (myself included) and their wives/fiancees/boyfriends congregating in Osterville for beach and beer pong… It isn’t often that I see my extended family, but every time I am reminded how awesome this family is; we have our mini-dramas for sure, but everyone connected to MomMom and DadDad is a wonderful human being and I have deep love for each of my relatives. I look forward to watching this family grow up and produce another generation of good people!
And then the storm blew in! It happened to arrive on the day we set out to Nashwena, a small, private Elizabethan island about 12 miles out from Woods Hole belonging to descendants of the Forbes family, one of whom is a close friend of my brother. Three kerosene-burning houses and a wandering pack of Highland cattle are all that maintain this timeless environment. After a rough bounce through Vineyard Sound and Buzzards Bay, we moored the boat and hunkered down in the red house through some brutal winds and stinging rain. But even in those conditions, it can be impossible to resist the pull of the ocean and its bounty of fish, so we marched to the wave slathered rocky coast and whipped our frozen-mackerel-on-a-hook or shiny, spinny lures into the sea and waited for the hook to set in the jowls of some foolish sea creature. Our legal (28in+) catch was minimal, but I’ve always preferred quality to quantity and Andrew turned our meager supply of Striped Bass into crudo; raw fish with oil, lemon, herbs and cured pig. Amazingly unforgettable, but that’s par for the course when Andrew steps into the kitchen… potatoes au gratin, duck with pickled jalapeno and rose hip sauce and fantastic salads from the island’s bursting gardens was some of the best food I’ve ever eaten. With food, family and friends, complemented by some epic late-night jam sessions, the wannabe hurricane could not even begin to dampen our joyous celebration of the good life.
Theater is typically immune to foul weather, but when the venue is Delacorte Theatre in Central Park, The Doppler Radar is the main tool for determining a show’s viability. At 8pm, when Paul Simon’s Capeman was scheduled to start, standing umbrellaless was a mistake so Alaina and I huddled under the one we had and waited the next hour until it was closer to mist than storm and we filled our seats in the quarter-bowl. Before the head of The Public Theatre, Oskar Eustis, gave his introductory thanks and acknowledgments (calling the Delacorte “the greatest theater in the greatest city in the world” because IT’S FREE!), he was furiously squeegeeing the stage with the rest of the crew. It never actually stopped raining, but the show must go on… I remember hearing about this musical when it first hit Broadway and being surprised when it flopped. I always liked the music from the album, but hearing it live with a full Latin band is very powerful; all the performers were great and an epic moment like “Adios Hermanos”, when 40 people on stage are locked into tight rhythm and beautiful harmony, somehow feels even better wet.
The myth. The Legend. Atlantic City. Saying I went to AC is a bit misleading since we didn’t leave the Tropicana Resort for more than five minutes, a brief foray into a somehow unnatural natural beach environment that felt awkward and uncomfortable from the moment we left “the bubble”; an artificial world with rules and lives that exist only within the cubic volume of highly conditioned air. It was not my first time in a casino, but it was the first time I have been in the company of casino royalty and treated as such. Eric is a gambler and The Trop wants his action, so they comp lavishly to He and his court; free drinks and extravagant meals to complement the complimentary suite. His end of the deal is to play their games and play big. And maybe bring friends who are at least willing to throw some crumpled twenties on the craps table. I have played poker before, but never with real clay casino chips. Ridiculously, my very first hand of Texas Hold ‘em was pocket Aces, on which I managed to instantly lose half my chips. Two hands later came pocket Kings, which I lost to a grizzler banking on a 3 and a 4. Nearly wiped out, I held on until going all in on pair of Jacks, pair of Kings — lost to a flush. I sat stunned for a moment until the dealer asked if I wanted to buy in again. No. Since then, the experience has haunted me as I revisit the ghosts of my plays, yet I am fascinated and intrigued by this game’s multilevel action; knowing when to hold ‘em, knowing when to fold ‘em, knowing how to bet, knowing how to bluff, knowing how to read your opponents and knowing how to make every small advantage work to your favor. It is brutally beautiful.
I have to say, however, that the rest of the casino games are pretty stupid. They are games of chance with odds stacked always and usually heavily in the house’s favor. Baccarat is essentially like betting on a coin flip with commission. Slots are so frighteningly mind numbing it pains me more to think about watching the inhabitants of Slotsville more than my own $50 fail at the poker table. Craps can make die rolling very expensive. But that’s not to say that they aren’t fun and good for a little thrill, especially when your entourage gets hot and makes a stirring late-night comeback to win more than most people earn in a month… It is a warped economy for sure in the bubble, and while I lack whatever fearlessness might be required to confidently ride my luck, I felt moments of surging adrenaline and can see the grip it has on some. My bottom line is that I lost an amount I can afford and had a great time doing it in this parallel universe of timeless financial mayhem.
Summer always affords good book reading opportunities, and I have bolted through a few in the past month. My first journey was into The Change with “Dies The Fire”, a sci-fi novel taking place in 1998 from moments before a cataclysmic event which renders all engines, electronics and explosives useless. The aftermath is brutal; a struggle to survive in a suddenly lawless world, described precisely by S.M. Stirling. I look forward to continuing this series… “The Beach” by Alex Garland is another world of savagery that festers then erupts on a utopian tropical wonderland and was a huge challenge to stop reading at any time.
A great quick read: Food Rules by Michael Pollan. It sets forth the smartest guidelines I’ve ever seen to eating well. All 64 “rules” are so commonsensical and simple, shaping a diet that would be so much healthier than what most Americans eat. Unsurprisingly, the emphasis is on old world eating habits, citing French and Italian diets (recent personal confirmation) and stuff your great-grandmother would recognize as “real food”… Even if you end up breaking a few rules now and then (daily for me thus far) the book offers a great look at our obviously problematic food supply and may inspire more awareness of what are really eating… Not always pretty.
And to David Foster Wallace. Thank you… Your writing astounds me. Who can delve the truth like you? You write so much about every detail and yet are so economical with words that explode with meaning. Your media report about media reporting McCain2000 is what it is. We all know it but are unable to say it like you. Flying back from Europe, I had tears streaming down my face from laughter at your piece about GRAMMAR! Who knew SNOOTs were so funny? And today, reading a 1990 piece on American Fiction and Television that demonstrates the alienating loneliness and self-mocking nature of pop culture while alluding to a futuristic “net” of telecomputers that had the potential to break the entertainment monopoly and “free Joe Briefcase from passive dependence on his furniture”, I am thrown back in time to my first interactions with The Net on BBSs and email, all communative in nature, and how amazingly revolutionary that was, even if I didn’t understand the larger, 20-year context then… You did! Anyway, I’m sorry you’ll never read this because you killed yourself but I hope you somehow know how much I appreciate your work.
Alaina downloaded “Consider the Lobster” on her kindle, for which I traded my old-school paperback. Books Be Gone! The experience of reading this collection of non-fiction was enhanced by the e-reader; DFW is a copious footnoter and big-word user so the ability to bounce between the text, footnote and dictionary (which still lacks a good number of words he uses) is easier on the Kindle, although it is even easier on MY IPHONE, on which I just downloaded all of Alaina’s Kindle books (Twilight Series next?) and another DFW, “A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again”, and am enjoying with touch screen efficiency. Is it different from holding a book? Yes. Is the information contained the same? Yes. Does it sometimes run out of batteries? Yes. Do I love having Infinite Jest in my pocket? Yes.
I hate to brag, but this summer has been one of my best ever. The past month was pure chill, with European adventure and Vermont bliss. My last entry came just after our Italian leg, which was followed by two weeks in Catalonia, visiting the Bucklands in Barcelona and Borde Neuve. Surrounded by Americans, but soaking in Spanish and French culture, eating beautiful food and drinking local — as in backyard — wine. In Barcelona, Kevin introduced us to the squat scene, a truly bohemian free lifestyle, and I met up with two women who used to be au pairs in my home almost 25 years ago. I was inspired by the Picasso museum, which traces his art from youth to death, becoming astonishingly more and more primitive as his years increase (“À huit ans, j’étais Raphaël. Il m’a fallu toute une vie pour peindre comme un enfant ” Translation: At eight years old, I was Raphael. It took me a lifetime to paint like a child). We danced to reggae in the streets and bought beer from plastic bag dealers to drink all night wherever we went. We hung out with one of the most absurdly cute cats ever, Farnie… In France, the pace is even slower, allowing days of reading and music-making (I brought my laptop and mini keyboard.), punctuated by deliciously drawn-out meals… Walks in the vineyard valleys and up to the wind-whipped top of Bugarach, swimming in the Mediterranean and local rivers. Three weeks sped by through the languid pace and we were on a plane, headed home.
A night in Newton and dinner with Taylors then a brief return to Brooklyn to see friends and attend Beach House and The National at Prospect Park…
then up to Mt. Holly Vermont to bask in the comforting scenery of Strong Country, Appalachian Trail peaks and swimming holes; golfing and hot tubbing; smoking the best ribs, brisket and beer-can chicken I’ve ever tasted…
And back to Brooklyn. I am home and despite all the amazing experiences I’ve had over the past month, this is exactly where I want to be. Traveling offers new perspectives and challenges, all of which open the mind in crucial ways. When we leave our nest, our awareness is heightened and another culture’s quotidian rhythms create a parallel self that grows into and out of familiarity. Traveling is the greatest education and the most valuable experience for personal enrichment. I am lucky (although it is not entirely accidental) that my work patterns allow me to spend my summers freely and that a month of travel is an annual rite for me and I will continue to explore the world as long as I am able.
I am lucky to have the greatest travel partner in the world!
Today I sit in a beautiful apartment in Barcelona, Spain, where Alaina and I arrived last night after spending 8 fantastic days in my homeland away from home, Italy. An invitation from a friend to spend a week at his house on the island of Elba is never to be turned down, and so our summer plans were set in motion; a week on Elba became three weeks in Europe, hitting all of our friends and family on the continent…
When I enrolled at Middlebury, I knew that I wanted to take advantage of their incredible language program and Italian was the obvious choice for the practical reason that I wanted to study in Italy. I had never been, but I was sure that I needed to go, and so after 3 years of study and a summer at the language school, I landed in Firenze for my junior year abroad. It was nothing short of life-changing. I fell in love with a culture that appreciates friends, family, food and free time like nowhere else. Life is Art and Art is everywhere there. It was the inspiration for Supergood, which spawned guerilla art works on the Middlebury campus the following year.
Elba is a small island in the Mediterranean, with beautiful beaches and 3000 foot mountains. It is a perfect spot for idyllic relaxation, which we managed well with great friends. We then spent a few days driving through the unparalleled beauty of Tuscany, staying at two wonderful B&Bs, where I had a chance to practice my language skills and converse with some passionate Italians on various subjects ranging from fresh ricotta and aged prosciutto to mountain biking and the ugliness of the World Cup final (14 yellow cards?!?). I love the brain strain of foreign languages, and will certainly experience more of it in the next few weeks with my struggling Spanish and high-school French.
Fetovaia
No matter how neatly I try to wrap them, my earphones always become the most tangled clump of wires they possibly could. In searching for an explanation for this maddening phenomenon, I researched knot theory and learned a bit about Topology. There was also pretty pictures.
Inspired by the more than 6 billion tabulated knots that can be constructed from an unbroken circle, I composed some rhythmic knots in 5/4 and 7/4 time…
Restlessness
Pure
To look at my last post, written two weeks ago at the cabin in Maine and consider describing all that has happened since then is too daunting a task, so we are going to the abridged and illustrated notes instead:
Caitlin/Sam engagement party -camping and partying at beautiful Reiche property in Freeport, Me
Tuna Boat with Andrew and Will -Many tuna seen, but none that wanted any piece of our deadly trap…
Land Party -camping and partying at beautiful Buckland property in Warwick, NY
The weekend of my year has begun and it has been an incredible vacation so far. It will only get better; this weekend we leave for three weeks in Elba, Barcelona and Borde Neuve. I hope to be updating the org regularly so check in and let me know how your summer is going…
Last night was as hard as it comes to be a fan; Game 7 loss to the Lakers, collapsing in the second half and reminding Beantowners of our dour pessimistic hard-loss character. It is always hardest to lose when winning is closest, in a game or in a season, and almost makes me wish they had blown their chances months ago so I could have avoided all the recent trauma… But I guess its more about the thrill of potential victory than victory itself that makes sports fun. How else could it be that people continue to invest their time, money and energy into an experience that is almost always a losing effort in the end (if one can really consider there to be an end…)?
I have a very short list of things that disappoint me regularly, and sports are at the very top.
And just as I put the period on that sentence, the US soccer team scored a goal to tie it up from a two goal deficit. Sports excite! A US World Cup victory seems unlikely, but every strike is a jolt of euphoria. Moments like that, strung across a lifetime, easily outweigh the handful of championships I have witnessed.
But while sports ultimately disappoints me, I have a much longer list of things that never let me down and Alaina and nature are at the very top. The rest of my day will be spent hiking on Sargent and Penobscot mountains in Acadia National Park; it is a glorious day and I am in need of some eternal inspiration.
