Welcome, new readers!

 

 

 

IMG_4968Here’s a dog I saw in France.

 


Statue on the wall of a hotel in Lisbon, Portugal

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Turkish Coffee

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From Walter Isaacson’s biography of Steve Jobs.
When they got to Istanbul, he hired a history professor to give his family a tour. At the end they went to a Turkish bath, where the professor’s lecture gave Jobs an insight about the globalization of youth:
‘I had a real revelation. We were all in robes, and they made some Turkish coffee for us. The professor explained how the coffee was made very different from anywhere else, and I realized, “So fucking what?” Which kids even in Turkey give a shit about Turkish coffee? All day I had looked at young people in Istanbul. They were all drinking what every other kid in the world drinks, and they were wearing clothes that look like they were bought at the Gap, and they are all using cell phones. They were like kids everywhere else. It hit me that, for young people, this whole world is the same now. When we’re making products, there is no such thing as a Turkish phone, or a music player that young people in Turkey would want that’s different from one young people elsewhere would want. We’re just one world now’.”
An advantage of Turkish coffee Jobs overlooked is you can tell your fortune in the grounds.

“Find where the dogs sleep…”

Whenever I travel, I look for the place where the wild dogs sleep.  Never have I been disappointed.  It is always some odd corner, some makeshift shelter, some unvisited ruin.

- Viven Kent, How To Travel (1947)

(photo of the Dutch cemetery in Kochi, India by me)


Airplane Travel

Mural painted by Allen Tupper True in 1937 for The Brown Palace Hotel in Denver.  Not sure if it’s still there, somebody in Denver have a look!


Nuns at Tatsang, 1931

Wish I had a larger version of this.  The photographer is Frank Smythe, who went on the 1938 Shipton-Tilman Everest expedition.  My source is the Royal Geographic Society.

In 1949, in Delhi, [Smythe] was taken ill with food poisoning; then a succession of malaria attacks took their toll and he died on June 27, 1949 two weeks before his 49th birthday.


Bruce Chatwin

He definitely had bigtime Mike Daisey problems.  No way he’d be as famous if he weren’t so photogenic.  But still.  This is the entire chapter 69 from “In Patagonia”:

The “Englishman” took me to the races.  It was the sunniest day of summer.  The Strait was a flat, calm blue and we could see the double white crown of Mount Sarmiento.  The stands had a coat of fresh white paint and were full of generals and admirals and young officers.

“Day at the races, eh?  Nothing like a good race-meeting.  Come along with me now.  Come along.  Must introduce you to the Intendente.”

But the Intendente took no notice.  He was busy talking to the owner of Highland Flier and Highland Princess.  So we talked to a naval captain who stared out to sea.

“Ever hear the one about the Queen of Spain,” the Englishman asked, trying to liven up the conversation.  “Never heard the one about the Queen of Spain?  I’ll try and remember it:

A moment of pleasure

Nine months of pain

Three months of leisure

Then at it again.

“You are speaking of the Spanish Royal Family?” The Captain inclined his head.

The “Englishman” said he read history at Oxford.

The Nicholas Shakespeare biography is well-worth a flipthrough.  When Chatwin was diagnosed with HIV he claimed, among other things, that he had an extremely rare disease he caught from being bitten by a Chinese bat.


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