Thoughts on Liege

Rather than viewing Liege through the rose-colored lenses of being an 18-year old exchange student, today I viewed them through a 55-year old world traveling adult. 

I was disappointed and a bit sad.

Part of my feelings are the disappointments I am feeling about my host families. Five years and a half years ago I visited them and stayed with them. The trip was hurried. I promised I'd come back. The pandemic slowed things down. But, I am back.

Despite sending Facebook messages and mailing notes, I have not been able to connect with two of the families. The third one we are meeting up for lunch. I was hoping over a two week span I could also connect with their children, but everyone is busy.

I'm grateful to see host family number two (I had three families), but the disappointment hurts. I tried again today with an "I am here" message. I need to give up and make other plans.

I am thrilled my host son is picking me up on Friday to visit with his family. That is shaping up to be the highlight of the trip.

I am here.

The city feels different.

In about two weeks the much anticipated tram will be up and running. Yes, right after I leave. It is beautiful, and like the shiny Guillemins train station is transforming Liege into a destination.

I have noticed a lot more beggars. I don't remember any from my youth, but why would they have asked a high school student for money. Maybe they have always been there. Maybe there are more now.

I also feel like I am seeing more tourists. People about my age.

Liege is more of a foodie town than I remembered. I'll have to check out the restaurants tomorrow. Tonight I went grocery shopping and bought prepared cauliflower soup that reminded me of living here.

The town feels dirtier than I remembered. It was never a shiny place, but it seems ever dirtier. Am I comparing it to places like Melbourne that sparkle? Maybe. Perhaps the pollution has made it even dirtier and buildings have not been power washed.

As I walked from the train station to the VRBO (a 35 minute walk), I passed the school I attended, and walked past shops I remember from the 1980s. The VRBO is near Place St.-Lambert, now called Vingt-Aout in memory of WWI soldiers who perished on a particularly gruesome battle. It was rechristened in 2013. I recognize places.

Tomorrow I'll walk farther afield. Maybe I'll leave notes in the mailboxes of my host families. But, probably not. 

When I landed in Denmark I felt a weight lifting. It is hard living in the United States. I told a Belgian-Algerian woman not to travel to the United States. It is not safe for her cafe au lait colored skin, even as a tourist. She hears awful things about our gun culture. I can't defend the United States.

I overheard a few businessmen sitting behind me on the 90-minute flight from Copenhagen. They were talking about Trump and how shortsighted his attacks on our healthcare system are. Again, I couldn't defend the United States.

My French has always been lacking in areas including cars and computers. Last time it took days for me to realize WiFi was pronounced wee-fee! Anyone who has studied French knows the "i" is pronounced "eee" when reciting the alphabet. 

As is typical for me when I travel, I am tired but am having troubles sleeping because of all the strange noises. The building I am in is labeled AirBNB, so the global issues of people buying apartments as businesses instead of places to live has spread here, too (and I am not helping the cause, I know). Short term renters treat places differently than people who live there. After midnight I could hear people coming "home" (from where on a Wednesday night, I have no idea). I can hear motorcycles and other traffic three floors below me even though I am on a very quiet street that leads to a parking garage. I know I'll sleep more soundly tomorrow.

I'm going to try another attempt at sleep. I hope to tint my vision back towards pink tomorrow.

Bonne nuit!

I Made it to Belgium

Twenty-two hours after leaving home I walked up to my VRBO apartment home for the next two weeks. For a few more hours, I could have gone back to Australia.

I know these thoughts are coming from a place of tired, so bear with me on my whining.

I arrived at Newark four hours early for my flight and after waiting behind only one couple, I was seated at the gate approximately three hours and 50 minutes before my flight.

I find airports a bit numbing. I think of them as purgatory. There are airports I love filled with much to do and lots of places to walk around, even museums and artwork and silent rooms, and much more. Then there was the leg of Terminal B where I hung out. There were a couple of places to eat, and a couple of places to buy "last minute" souvenirs, but I couldn't even find a crossword puzzle book to replace the one I bought several years ago that is nearly empty. The charging station wasn't working, but I did find another place to top off my phone.

The SAS flight had all the signs of leaving on time. And it did! The pilot even announced there was a chance we would land early because of the wind patterns -- welcome news to the vast majority of us who were using CPH as a hub to our real destination, and each flight had minimal layover. 

Then we sat on the tarmac for about two hours.

You know you are not going anywhere when the pilot tells us to take off our seatbelts and use the bathrooms while we wait.

The reason for the delay seems to be mechanical. They rebooted the computers and sent us on our way. True to his predication, the flight time was an hour late, but with the delay we landed as my next plane took off.

I had an empty seat next to me so I tried to lie down on the two seats. The woman in front of me politely asked if she could lean back, I asked her not to because of my long legs. She leaned back all the way. Why bother asking? I felt trapped. The only way I could get out of my seat was to press against her seat (okay, maybe I did that to make a point).

I ended up moving to the empty seat next to me so I could binge watch The Big Bang Theory (yes, it is as funny as my friends have been telling me). When I stayed in my seat, the screen was too close to my face.

There was no wait at customs. A one hour layover at CPH (Copenhagen) is completely do-able.

I went to forage for food. After I bought breakfast I noticed a voucher for free food as compensation for the delay. I used it to acquire a sandwich for later. SAS rebooked me on a flight to Brussels on another airline. Their next flight would have been another two hour delay. As we were landing, they made an announcement with the gate numbers for the flights people had a chance of making, and announcing the new times for the rest of us. It was such a long list they only read it in English instead of also reading it in Swedish.

Nearly four hours later I boarded a Brussels Air flight. Brussels Air reminded me of Peoples Express. The seats were old. There were fees for everything, including water. The plane flapped about in the wind as we landed. I was happy to have a window seat.

I retrieved my bag (it was too heavy for carryon status) and bought a train ticket to Liege. I must have just missed a train because my wait time was nearly an hour. I met a lovely Belgian-Algerian woman. She enjoyed practicing her English on me, and I practiced my French on her. She guided me to the transfer, which cut 20 minutes off our train ride.

I had every intention of taking a train from Guillemins to St.-Lambert, but there was a 45 minute wait and Google maps said it would be a 39 minute walk. I could have taken a bus, but I was too tired to figure out where to go. As I walked I marveled at the new trams which are doing practice runs for the next two weeks. They start running officially after I leave.

Google Maps are amazing. I found my VRBO on a tiny street near Le Carre. Without Google Maps I would still be wandering around, or rather I would have messaged my host for help. 

The apartment is listed as being on the second floor. I translated that to (American) third floor, and I was right. The wooden spiral staircase seems to be a bigger challenge on the way down than it was on the way up. I'll worry about that in a couple of weeks.

I slept from 8:30 pm - 11:30 pm and am wide awake at 3:30 am. I think I'll try reading a book.

Anticipatory Plagiarism

I heard the most delightful phrase yesterday and wanted to make note of it before I forget it again:

Anticipatory plagiarism

The phrase was used during the talkback for the New York City Center's five-day production of "Love Life," a play first produced in 1948 on Broadway and mostly forgotten about ever since. Back in 1948 the strike by the musician's union resulted in "Love Life" never making an original cast recording to then be played on the radio. There was no social media or people carrying cameras in their pockets. Still, they managed to have 252 audiences.

The play grew into a cult favorite. People such as Bob Fosse, Stephen Sondheim, Hal Prince, Fred Ebb (of Kander and Ebb), and other theater legends saw the original production and were inspired by it. Shows such as "Cabaret" and "Company" may not have existed without this concept show. Audiences today see songs and scenes that were lifted from "Love Life" and are now feel Kurt Weill and Alan Jay Lerner stole them from the shows made after them, rather than (obvious) other way because we saw the newer shows first.

The song "I remember it well" was repurposed by Lerner and appears more famously in "Gigi." It is something we reference --You wore a red dress, it was blue. Or some other paraphrase meant to evoke the spirit of the "Gigi" song, even though I've never seen "Gigi."

When a member of the audience asked how it happened that these moments familiar to anyone who has seen "Cabaret," or "Follies," or "Gigi" appear in "Love Letters," after being momentarily silenced, the best answer the person could come up with was anticipatory plagiarism because if after explaining to the entire audience that "Love Letters" first appeared in 1948 and these other productions were years and decades later, clearly Sondheim, Ebb, and Prince were inspired by Weill and Lerner and not the other way around.

Kudos to the interviewee for coining a clever term on the spur of the moment.

As for "Love Letters," if I see it making the rounds again I might see it because I gained an appreciation for it after the talk back, but I could only recommend it to the most die hard theater fans who would be able to appreciate its anticipatory plagiarism and see the roots of American musical theater.

One more tidbit about "Love Letters"...it was originally slated for March 2020. They did hold an invited dress rehearsal before the world shut down for COVID. Then the director, Victoria Clark, went on to become a Tony winner for playing the lead in "Kimberly Akimbo" and life got in the way. Brian Stokes Mitchell was originally asked to play Sam Cooper, but had another commitment for March 2025. At the last minute the person hired to be Sam had to back out, and Brian was able to shift his schedule to play the male lead. During the talk back Victoria said those five years gave everyone a chance to get deeper with their characters. Most of those hired in 2020 were able to make it, which made the experience that much sweeter.

Pandemic Year 5

March 13th, two weeks ago, was the fifth anniversary of the COVID pandemic. For as all consuming as the pandemic was, I can't believe that anniversary slipped by me mostly unnoticed.

I wrote about it at the one year mark and here.

Again at at the 16 month mark when President Biden wanted to declare it over (but the disease had other plans).

At the 19 month mark when I realized my calendar was full for the first time in over a year and a half.

The two year mark.

The three year mark.

The four year mark.

If you enter COVID into the search bar on the right, you can find countless other mentions of it in blog posts.

So, why not the fifth year?

I'd like to say it is because the disease is completely eradicated and life has returned to normal, or even the "new normal" that was predicted as it all started.

But the reality is there are so many new crises that I forgot about COVID.

I think our latest health crises are measles and bird flu. I think because the current POTUS has eliminated funding for the NIH and CDC and refuses to educate the population about things that we might be able to prevent.

I do see more people wearing masks in public places, especially in NYC. They are likely the smart ones. I'm at the point where if I get a deadly disease, it might just put me out of my misery so bring it on.

Up until a couple of months ago I heard about friends testing positively for COVID, including one in Australia. I had a cold or maybe it was the flu at New Years, but did not test for anything. Just let it run its course. Sort of how life seems to be in general in the United States. If we close our eyes and ears and block out the noise, maybe, just maybe it will all go away.

That's now how it happens, of course.

COVID is here to stay.

May we get rid of fascism easier.

Glimmers of Hope

In Israel on Monday a happy couple tied the knot. Plans had been carefully made over many months. Families and friends travelled from near and far. Love was in the air despite the ongoing war.

War, though, had other plans, as it often does.

As the couple was about to take their places at the altar air raid sirens could be heard. Those of us watching safely via YouTube live stream were in shock. Voices could be heard in English and in Hebrew. Where is the nearest shelter?

Someone shared the livestream would be on pause while they took care of a “small problem.”

Those of us on the other side of the world held our breath and prayed.

Five minutes later the celebration was back on.

Which brings me to my hope…even in the midst of war, couples still get married and babies are born. Happiness can happen in the middle of tragedy. 

Mazel Tov, Y and M! May you have many years of happiness together.

Color and Light Festival in Asbury Park

I saw a Facebook ad for Color and Light Festival taking place in Asbury Park. The link featured didn't have much information beyond the free show was taking place at 7:00 pm on March 21 and 22 and will be projected on a building on the boardwalk in Asbury Park (where the shops are). It was a rain or shine event. There were links to apply to be a vendor. The projections would be on a continuous loop until about 11 pm. Bring your friends!

The information was that scant.

Don had off on a rare Saturday night, and the weather wasn't bad. I'd say it was nice because the temperatures were in the 50s and it was clear, but it was so windy it felt much colder.

We got to Ocean Grove (the town south of Asbury Park with free parking) and looked for dinner. In the past we have struck out trying to find a place that fits that Goldilocks spot between cheap street food and expensive tablecloth restaurant. Day's Ice Cream is closed for the season. A Google search shows they are closed until May, it would be nice if when they closed their doors for the winter they left a note in the window. We stopped by midweek in September and thought they would be open on weekends. I'm glad they are planning to return in a few weeks.

We discovered the Asbury Park Ale House. It fit all the criteria -- indoor dining, casual, varied menu, friendly staff, only a short wait. I had a yummy maple pecan salmon with Brussel sprouts and cauliflower. Don had the ale burger. We'll be back. Hopefully we'll remember to make a reservation in advance.

We walked back to the grassy area by the Paramount Theater/Convention Hall for the light show. By this point it was 7:54 -- 54 minutes into a show we had no idea how long it was supposed to last. It ended around 8:14, and said it would start up again in 16 minutes. It even had a countdown. 

Whew! 

We moved to a central space to watch the second viewing. At the end, they announced they would keep looping until 10:30 pm. The show was about 30 minutes long. We came in at the nine minute mark.

It was a nice crowd. Lots of families. Some people brought well-behaved dogs. It was not at all crowded. An evening in the summer, or even further into spring, would have filled the lawn and provided more income to the vendors. The wind kept up from buying anything to eat. When we walked past at 6:15 everyone was still setting up. By the time the light show started, it was too dark to appreciate the vendors.

After the show we got to talking to Adam. Adam was wearing a LUMA t-shirt and seemed really into it. He brought his wife and stroller-aged child. He held the child up during the show. They were both mesmerized. I couldn't really see his wife from my angle, but I suspect she was humoring him. They traveled from Binghamton, NY (about three hours away) and were making a weekend out of it. They were staying in the hotel next door to the event and asked for a room overlooking the festival. The hotel tried, but the view of the festival grounds was not what he had in mind. 

LUMA is a volunteer-based company in Binghamton, NY. Every September they have a mini-festival featuring about ten artists showing off their light shows on ten different buildings. You have to travel around town to catch all the displays. Some projection mapped displays are five minutes long, others are 15. By contrast, this had about ten artists displaying their shows on the same building with festival goers staying in the same place. We were glad we parked about a mile away in Ocean Grove (maybe two miles away?) because we could see cars driving around closer to the event trying to find parking, which is already relatively limited in Asbury Park.

Adam has been involved with them for about a decade. The head people decided this year to start taking the show on the road and move out of Binghamton. Asbury Park was chosen as their first site. I wonder where they will go next.

I signed up for their email list. Hopefully I'll learn about more events. For now, September 6-7 in Binghamton is marked on my calendar. From there it is an easy road trip to Montreal.

UPDATE: I read a press release that said 12,000 people came over the two days. 

Here are some pictures from the event.

Archaeology School

In college I took an elective in archaeology (the things one takes classes in as a history major in a liberal arts college). Over the ensuing decades that one class has stayed with me more than anything else I took, including history (major) and French (minor) classes. A different path might have taken me to archaeology school. I have a friend who after earning a law degree went on to earn a masters degree in archaeology. That's more of a commitment than I want to make.

As our season at Newlin Grist Mill in West Chester, PA was coming to a close last November, Keith offered a 10-week archaeology class taught on Wednesday mornings at the mill. Every Wednesday from January 8-March 19 (except when there was bad weather), we gathered to learn about archaeology at a very high level. Topics included: paperwork, soil basics, dating techniques, faunal, reporting, artifacts, glass, and internet resources. We even visited two archaeology labs: one at Newlin Grist Mill and the other at West Chester University. The university trip left me with a major case of envy--I wished I could travel back in time and take the path of becoming an archaeologist.

The plan was we would have class for two hours, then dig for a couple of hours. This winter's weather only cooperated the last two weeks. My drive time seemed to increase each week, from an hour fifteen to an hour forty-five some weeks. I really have to plan it will be an hour and a half each week, and make sure I have half a tank of gas before I leave home.

The class was very well organized, and much more fun than I ever anticipated. They are a great group of people. On our last week we enfolded another woman, who is younger than I am. 

For me the highlight of the class was when we went on a field trip to West Chester University's Anthropology Department. Department chair Dr. Heather Wholey showed off their bright, spacious lab filled with gadgets from an electronic Munsell book to a lit microscope that connects to a laptop to ground penetrating equipment to a new database and more! I kept thinking these students are being spoiled and they won't understand that until they are in the field on an underfunded project. The room had space for 32 students with two sinks for messy artifacts, and two sinks for neater reasons. Keith noted there were no chairs near the sinks, likely because they are being used by youngsters and not old people like us. The room had plenty of storage in a variety of sizes (draws and shelves), and lots of outlets. That day they were cataloging a collection of hats that were recently donated to WCU and entering the data into Catalogue It!, their new database. I would do that for free! 

They use their old Munsell books to help identify pottery colors. They also have 32
Mac laptops, and 32 PC laptops with archaeology software loaded on them. Students often use their own laptops. On the low tech side, they have a sandbox they use to line up pottery as the glue is drying.

Items are washed, then they air dry over two days. Back on the dig site in Israel, our pottery dried in a couple of hours.

WCU's anthropology department offers classes in cultural, biological, and linguistical fields. There are cases in the hallway with some of their more exciting finds.

The librarian in me loved hearing about what happens after the artifacts are found -- especially the cataloging process.  

We also visited the field lab at Newlin Grist Mill. Let's just say it is less shiny. It has furniture that was rescued from dumpsters, and many artifacts that still need to be processed. Keith is a full-time site manager, but only spends one day a week on archaeology and lately much of that time has been taken up by our weekly class.

Our class was featured in the Newlin Grist Mill newsletter. Our celebration culminated in volunteering at the March Public Archaeology Day where we were each more confident talking to the 88 visitors, including many young children. We have more answers than we had before the class, but Keith is still there to answer the ones we don't know. 

Our last class was spent applying what we learned in STPs (Shovel Test Pits). The four STPs were conducted near the archive building, each 10 feet apart, to get a sample of what lies underground to determine if it is safe to bury fiberoptic lines. More time, and perhaps we would have dug the whole line, but we did enough to determine there are no features (a collection of objects and/or soils which were caused by human activity but cannot be removed intact from the soil -- think stairs, or a wall, or post hole). We divided ourselves into two teams and worked on this for about 90 minutes after the last class. Then Keith worked with us to properly fill out the paperwork about soil levels and other information -- in other words, a real life example to use as our "final exam."

Keith estimates over the 11 years they have been holding public archaeology days, we have saved Newlin Grist Mill about $290,000 in manual labor. It is nice when you can quantify the benefit provided by volunteers.