October 31, 2006
paidContent.org on the London conference
This one is my favorite, especially Snake's comments at the end. Pretty amusing ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 7:58 PM | Comments (2)
October 29, 2006
Odds and sods
Random notes on London ...
-- I decided to go to the Courtauld Gallery. I liked Rick Steves' description of it in his London book, and it was only a few tube stops from St. Paul's. After starting in a gallery of medieval religious works and then moving through the Renaissance, I came to the more modern works. Van Gough’s self-portrait, shortly after he hacked off his ear. A nice survey of Impressionists. And then a cool surprise. A small room with several works by Kandinsky, tracing his progression toward abstraction. This gallery definitely was a worthwhile stop.
-- Pub crawl: Sitting in the basement of the Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese, a pub that was rebuilt in 1667, I looked around the room, trying to imagine what the scene must have been like in the 17th century when it was packed with drunken Londoners. I know it's a cliché, but you have to wonder what these walls would say if they could talk. I sipped my pint of bitter, pulled from a basement cask, and listened to the sounds of tourists around me. German. English. American. After my pint at the Cheese, I hopped over to the Black Friar to check out a more recent pub (circa 1900). Another pint of bitter and a steak and ale pie gave me time to take it all in. When I traveled in Wales, I was struck by how homey pubs where. They were extensions of living rooms into the public space. These London pubs showed that tradition’s roots run deep into English drinking history. The focus isn’t on sitting around the bar as much as sitting in front of fires on couches and chairs, playing darts, etc.
-- I stumbled on Trafalgar Square when it was teeming with Muslims who had come out for Eid, the end of Ramadan. I was in time for the call to prayer. Fascinating, festive sight.
-- Toward the end of the day Saturday, I walked along the South Bank of the Thames, across from the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben. I sat on a bench while darkness crept in, wondering when the lights across the river would come on. At six, Big Ben chimed and everything lit up. It was a great way to end the day.
Posted by Bob Benz at 9:37 PM | Comments (1)
Cheers, mate
I guess I’m a card-carrying Anglophile. I love England and relished the chance to return. But I was like a dog chasing a rabbit through a field, slicing back and forth, trying to figure out what I wanted to do first and where to focus. In the end, I did it in a pretty random way. A pub here. A museum there. And that resulted in wince-inducing blisters from tromping all over London.
One of the things I like best about England is the way they bend the language. It’s theirs, and they love to dribble it like a soccer ball. Punters, wankers, loos and cheers, mate. Just brilliant. It didn’t take longer than the ride in from the airport to get my first dose.
“How has the weather been,” I ask the driver as he steers the Mercedes sedan through a maze of Fiats, foreign Fords and motorcycles.
“Indifferent,” he replies.
I’m a little perplexed by what he means. Then he explains that it’s been a mix of rain, sun, clouds. Unusually warm. Very unpredictable. Indifferent.
As we drive, he notes traffic might not be as bad as usual since it’s “half-term.”
I ask for a translation.
Schools out, he says. The students are on break.
I forget about this turn of phrase until the next day, when I’m reading the free Metro newspaper on the Tube. Turns out my half-term good fortune is another person’s terror, as he indignantly points out in a letter to the editor:
“Sir, Half-turn may be commuting heaven but it is swimming hell.
My 32 lengths of the local pool take me an hour instead of the usual 30 minutes as I must zig-zag through hordes of splashing children."
John M. Ward
Norwich
Could anyone other than an Englishman have penned that letter?
Brilliant, John M. Ward. Just brilliant.
Posted by Bob Benz at 9:28 PM | Comments (1)
Whispering in St. Paul's ear
After considerable indecision, I decided to visit St. Paul’s Cathedral. I had seen Westminster the last time I was in London and decided to cover new ground this time. I was also influenced by a PBS special I had seen about how the cathedral survived the Blitz. That show really moved me, the image of this cathedral surviving fire bombing that devastated everything around it. I wanted to see it, stand in the middle of it and marvel at its resilience in the face of that attack.
The church is impressive on scale alone. I took Rick Steves’ London guide with me and used that to lead me through the cathedral. Excellent decision, giving a lot of perspective on the architecture and history of the place.
After climbing my assault on the steps of Notre Dame in Paris last year, I knew this was something I had to tackle here, too. All 409 of them. I wanted to see the dome and the spot where the German bomb plowed through and destroyed the altar below without managing to bring down the building.
First you ascend to the Whispering Gallery, then the Stone Gallery and finally to the cupola, or Golden Gallery, and magnificent views of London.
On the way back down, I stopped in the Whispering Gallery to catch my breath. It’s astounding. You can hear people whispering on the other side, and it grants a spectacular view of the gilded cathedral below.
Among all the whispers, one of the attendants was humming to herself and chattering quietly with a heavy French accent. At first, I thought she might be a bit daft. Just sitting there hundreds of feet above that altar, chirping away. What a strange job it must be, sitting all day in front of the entrance to the stairs leading down from the Stone Gallery, wrapped in the glory of this cathedral. I wondered if she took it all for granted after a while.
Or maybe the constant flow of toursts was driving her slowly insane ...
“You there, lady in the blond hair,” the attendant chided. There was no whisper in her words.
“No fo-to-gra-fee. It says so right there on that sign in front of you. In all languages. Please put that camera away.”
I started to chuckle and the French attendant looked over at me, shrugged her shoulders as if to say “some people” and resumed her mantra. Maybe she was channeling Christopher Wren.
“Want me to show you how to whisper,” she asked a passing child. The girl trotted over to the other side and put her ear to the wall.
"Tarynne ... can ... you ... hear ... me." More a hiss than a whisper, but the child grinned at hearing her name from the other side of the gallery and I began the rest of my descent.
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:29 PM | Comments (0)
Journey to the Middle East
I was a little disappointed when I realized I was staying at the London Hilton Metropole. Based on what I could glean, it wasn’t near anything interesting. I knew that wouldn’t be a major problem because there’s a tube stop nearby, but I still had hoped for something with a bit more character.
I got what I was hoping for.
On Thursday night, too fried to contemplate a tube ride and unimpressed with the idea of eating at the hotel, I drifted out into the streets to see what was up.
I ended up in the Middle East.
Edgware Road was lined with shops and restaurants. Women in hijabs walked past women in Western dress. Bearded men sat at sidewalk tables drinking Turkish coffee and smoking hookahs. I stopped at Safa Restaurant, a small Turkish/Iranian place and skipped around the menu like a kid in a rain puddle. Excellent food. I was even impressed with the Turkish wine I ordered. I was expecting it to be sweet or just plain bad, but it really was quite good. Wish I had jotted down the name ...
After dinner, I wandered the streets for a while, stopping in a market where everything was written in Arabic to buy baklava to take back to my room. I really wanted to walk into a sidewalk cafe and talk someone into showing me how to smoke one of the hookahs, but in the end I was cowardly and tired and trundled home amid the tobacco smoke, Arabic discussions and honking horns.
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:14 PM | Comments (0)
Talking to Mohammed
So I’m at the hotel bar after a grueling tramp across London (both sides of the Thames, several museums, etc.) watching Manchester United disassemble Bolton when a short guy with a shorter glass of beer sidles up next to me, clearly wanting to engage. I’m four pints of Harp into the soccer match, so I’m game.
First the obligatory “where are you froms.” I tell him I’m from the States (though I doubt I had to) and he tells me he’s from Iraq. This definitely piques my interest. His reaction to me clearly signals he doesn’t hate Americans, though it’s quickly clear that we both agree the U.S. actions in Iraq have gone horribly wrong. He was back there shortly after the invasion and described a pretty messy situation. We have a good conversation. He’s affable, smiling and interested to get an American’s take on things. His main beef with America, I think, isn't that we invaded. It's that we lacked a plan once we got there.
Then the next phase of questions. What do you do? I tell him I’m with a newspaper company and work on Internet strategies.
“I’m an engineer,” he responds. “I’ve been living in London since I graduated college 20 years ago, but I’ve been back to Iraq several times.”
“What kind of engineer?”
“Nuclear weapons,” he says, smiling, waiting for the joke to sink in through the Harp haze that has settled on my head.
I start laughing. “So you’re where the WMDs went, eh?” He grins.
Turns out his name is Mohammed. I tell him I’ve been reading about Islam and the life of the prophet. But he’s not religious. Strictly a secular Iraqi. I nod, a show of secular solidarity. I offer to buy him another beer, but he declines and is on his way.
I return to the game, where Wayne Rooney just completed a hat trick for Manchester United, adding insult to Bolton's injury.
Posted by Bob Benz at 7:59 PM | Comments (0)
More coverage of the London conference
Notes on the opening presentations that Carolyn McCall, CEO of the Guardian, and I did on Thursday morning at the World Digital Publishing Conference ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 7:54 PM | Comments (0)
October 27, 2006
London update ...
It's nice to get props once in a while. Apparently, I struck a chord with one of the attendees at the London Digital Publishing conference. The inimitable Jay Small found this video update on the conference. You have to watch it till the end to hear her comments ...
More on the conference -- and London -- later.
Posted by Bob Benz at 3:28 AM | Comments (0)
October 23, 2006
London calling
I'll be in London this weekend, where I'm speaking at the World Digital Publishing Conference on Thursday. It's been about a decade since I was last in London. Anyone have suggestions for must-see stuff? I'll have all day Saturday and probably Friday night to play ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 1:19 PM | Comments (0)
It's a 'Burgh thing
It always bugs me when someone spells Pittsburgh (as in PA) without the "h" at the end, but I never knew there was a long, amusing story on how Pittsburgh got its h, lost its h and recovered its h. Amazing ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 1:16 PM | Comments (1)
October 14, 2006
Haunted hike ...
Xena and I were lumbering behind the hounds this morning when I heard a preternatural wailing rise among the cawing and honking sounds that welcome sunrise.
At first, I thought it was just me. But Xena had stopped dead in her tracks and was looking in the same direction. I was trying to figure out what was going on in the wooded hills across Melton Hill Lake. We cast a glance at each other, then back at the water, where thick columns of fog were rising up into the cold morning air. All we needed was a chainsaw-wielding maniac wearing a hockey mask.
Then it hit me. Coyotes. I've heard them caterwauling in Hardin Valley in the evening, but this was the first time I'd heard them at the lake in the morning. From the sound of it, there were two groups of them over there, maybe a half-mile apart, calling out to each other.
The effect was amazing. Xena and I listened for a while, then continued walking toward the hounds and the indignant protests of a turkey they'd rousted.
Posted by Bob Benz at 9:29 AM | Comments (0)
October 11, 2006
Totally Blotto
A few recent discoveries of the musical variety ...
-- John Perry Barlow, a former lyricist for the Grateful Dead, made one of his infrequent blog posts the other day. This one was extolling the virtues of Dr. Blotto, a Chicago band that Barlow stumbled into and ended up writing lyrics for. I downloaded their new album, Barlow Shanghai, and it's definitely worth the $12.50 I paid. I've only listened to the whole thing once, so I'm not sure if the lyrics are all that. But the music has a definite hook and I'll be listening to it a lot over the next several days.
-- I heard a woman singing on WDVX the other day who sounded wildly familiar but that I couldn't place. When they announced it was Carrie Rodriquez, I was stymied. I'd never heard of her. But I found several of her CDs on iTunes and downloaded her latest, "7 Angels on a Bicycle," and one she did with Chip Taylor, "Red Dog Tracks." Her music really is resonating with me. Downloaded these CDs on Saturday and already have listened to them a bunch of times. I'll probably go in and grab more of her music ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:35 AM | Comments (2)
October 8, 2006
Dinner time ...
Captain Dan filets the mackerel we caught during a fishing trip to Tampa Bay recently. Wes, Rusty and I chartered a boat out of St. Pete, and Captain Dan treated us to a great trip. In addition to the mackerel, we caught a bunch of grouper that were too small to keep but still were fun to reel in. It also was great to spend a day out on the water. Nothing does a better job of clearing your head ...
We cooked the mackerel for dinner that night, preparing them several different ways. And Wes created a gumbo that was a work of art.
Posted by Bob Benz at 6:53 PM | Comments (0)
The places in between ...
I was in the Atlanta airport not too long ago when I saw a woman wearing a hijab herding several children onto the train at the A gates. She had definitely drawn attention, with looks ranging from hostile to curious. I caught myself staring, too, grappling with stereotypes and conflicting emotions.
So when I got home, I ordered a copy of Rory Stewart's "The Places In Between." It had been on my list since I saw a review in the New York Times in June. It's a remarkable book. Stewart decided to walk across Afghanistan, and he did this only months after 9/11. He takes in a decrepit old fighting dog along the way that he names Babur.
It quickly becomes apparent that Afghanistan -- and Islam -- are far more complex than most Westerners fathom. I guess that shouldn't come as a surprise after the way we completely misunderstood Southeast Asia during the Vietnam War. The Afghanistan Stewart encounters is by turns exceedingly cruel, primitive and hospitable. Where else could you have someone taking pot shots at you one minute and be welcomed into a complete stranger's house the next? This book definitely is worth picking up.
After I finished it, I bought a copy of his next book, "The Prince of the Marshes: And Other Occupational Hazards of a Year in Iraq." But before I had a chance to start that, I stumbled across Karen Armstrong's "Islam: A Short History." It's a clear, concise history of Islam that really has helped me get my head around the topic. Or at least scratch the surface. It's frightening to think we live in a country that is at war against Islamic extremism and most of us don't know the difference between a Sunni and Shiite Muslim.
Posted by Bob Benz at 6:23 PM | Comments (0)
October 7, 2006
Autumn swoops into Tennessee
I've been traveling a lot lately and haven't run the dogs at the lake for several weeks. Perhaps the wait made this morning one of our best jaunts to Melton Hill in a while.
After several foggy mornings this week, today broke clear and brisk. It was 48 degrees and a full moon cast an incredible pre-sunrise glow on our walk.
As they always do, Ozzy and Gilligan tore off into a field atop the hill, disappearing over a rise to chase rabbits or whatever else caught their fancy. The eastern sky was easing toward dawn, but the sun wasn't up yet. And as I always do, I stood whistling the dogs back to me, faithful Xena panting at my side.
I heard the jangling of Gilligan's tags before I saw the two wayward hounds come over the rise, dew popping off their churning paws like glistening drops of mercury bouncing out of a broken thermometer.
But they weren't alone.
In the sky only a few yards above them, slicing through autumn moonlight, was a small hawk. At first I thought it was an angry crow, rousted by the two hounds. But as it (and they) came closer, I realized it was a hawk, sizing them up as possible breakfast. It followed them all the way in, soaring up to perch in a nearby tree when it realized they were too big to haul off. It apparently didn't see me standing there until after it had alighted, and upon noticing me, it soared off into the morning.
Incredible.
It reminded me of another hawk-dog encounter a few decades ago, when a beautiful, massive red-tail swooped at my little cocker spaniel pup while we were frolicking in the piney Jemez Mountains of New Mexico. That hawk probably could have made off with the dog, but it saw me as it swooped and veered away.
Can't wait till tomorrow morning ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:19 PM | Comments (1)