The Siesta Pit

Have you ever considered the variance between your holiday expectations and the experience itself? When planning and anticipating a trip we tend to discount the mundane. The petty annoyances of packing, travelling to the airport, and the whole security nightmare once you're there get left by the wayside.

That's why I try to re-read philosopher Alain de Botton's The Art of Travel before I depart on holiday. He reminds us that expectation and reality are often at odds. That our fantasy trip is just that -- fantasy. He looks at why we travel and what we expect from our experiences. It's a good way to help keep everything in perspective when you run into the inevitable headaches of travelling.

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Anyone who's spent any time on the road understands that no holiday destination will be exactly as advertised. That's why web sites such as TripAdvisor are so popular. But sometimes members of the hospitality industry outdo themselves by painting a far too rosy picture of the situation. Why not check out my post on weasel words, Humpty Joins Weasels: Toad Hall to Fall?

That's what's happened to me in Siesta Key, Florida. Two weeks of sun and sand in a relatively sedate community sounded like heaven. On the outskirts of the Village, I'd be within walking distance of everything. And just a block from the beach.

I could have breakfast outside every morning and barbecue my dinner. Grocery shopping and a myriad of restaurants were only a few blocks away.

So much for the fantasy. The reality was a nightmare of unremitting loud noise. Yes, there were a table and chairs, as well as a barbecue at the Siesta Pit¹. But there was also a big rooftop air conditioning unit on the next property and disturbingly close to my door. So much for spending time outside. Then I discovered the Oyster Bar² . I could even feel the so-called music in my room, it was so incredibly loud. Amplified so you could hear it for blocks!

Outside my door at the Pit:

I bet you'd get into serious trouble subjecting animals to this kind of cruelty.

And thus my fantasy week of sun and sand turned out to be more like heat and dust. Two days wasted attempting to get the promised WiFi working (it never did, not properly), migraines and misery. Yes, a few hours at the beach. But even that was marred by the speedboats roaring back and forth, dangerously close to shoreline swimmers. Apparently, the boats can come as close to shore as they wish, despite the swimmers. The key is not to behave recklessly. Or so I was told by the sherrif's office.

Needless to say, I'll not be taking advantage of my second week's rental. I've already fled Siesta Key. I must admit it's an experience I'd yet to enjoy, paying for two accommodations at the same time. So much for the Siesta Pit. And so much for Florida too. At least I'll be saving money on the souvenirs. Why would I want any? I haven't even taken any pictures.

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Notes

¹ Actually the Pearl, but I'm not one for weasel words.

² Incredibly, this place advertises itself as the "Home of the Village Idiot". They've got one thing right.

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Book mentioned

• The Art of Travel

Beach and Other Booking

It's generally taken as given that beach and other holiday reading is on the light side. But must this always be the case? Why not read something worthwhile on holiday this summer?

I travelled south to Florida about a week ago armed with my usual Rough Guide, three non-fiction books (including a biography) and a half-read mystery. I can't say I planned it this way, they were the first volumes on my bookshelf to take my fancy. And not that the mix really matters. It went without saying that I'd be picking up a few volumes while I was here.

However, my book-buying didn't go quite as planned. First, the places I visited, not being at the top of the tourist trail, didn't have the wealth of local interest books I'd imagined. The two State Parks provided a variety of bird-watching, tree-, plant- and animal-identification guides, as well as some thin local history tomes and kids books, but I was looking for something meatier.

When I asked at my hotel, I learnt that the local Borders had closed its doors a few weeks earlier, and the owners of the best independent shop had tossed in the towel several months ago. I was in a veritable book desert. Or so it appeared until I began my Internet search. I soon located a Barnes and Noble (B&N) not too far from my planned outing for the day, and so I was off.

Of course the B&N location only looked close on the map, the road, much busier than expected, was home to a good many strip malls. I found Borders with little problem. And yes, it was closed. Getting to B&N required going in circles a few times, but it yielded up some items of interest that I hadn't seen at home.

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One of the books I brought with me, was The Widow Cliquot: The Story of a Champagne Empire and the Woman who Ran It. It's a must for those who enjoy a bottle of the Widow. This is a relatively slim volume about a remarkable woman who seized her chance to make her mark upon the champagne industry. What's even more interesting is how small her window of opportunity was.

Widowed before she was 30, the Widow Cliquot sought and surprisingly, received the necessary family backing to produce and market a product that was quite different from what we know today. The secrets to her success included the development of a cheaper method of production, audacious marketing and a willingness to adapt her product to a changing market. Nevertheless, the impact of the politics of the Napoleonic Wars on international trade was almost her undoing.

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Andrew Taylor's The Barred Window was a very different sort of read. A story of manipulation and immorality, it's easier to decide which character to dislike. The lives of two cousins, one rich and the other poor, slip onto the same path after a suicide.

Thomas Penmarsh has alway's been looked after by Esmond, but it hasn't been easy. Mrs Penmarsh treats Esmond like a son, a preferred son. While Thomas' ambitions have been stifled, keeping her true son under Mother's thumb well into adulthood. Despite this, Thomas has managed to father a daughter, Alice.

Alice, now grown, and heir to Mrs Penmarsh's estate is coming to visit. How will Esmond and Thomas manage to continue their comfortable life? A creepy but compelling read with the type of nasty characters Taylor portrays so well.

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Fans of Patrick O'Brian's Aubrey and Maturin series will enjoy Under Enemy Colors. Royal Navy Lt Charles Hayden has been denied his own command, his loyalty questioned because of his mother's French birth. Instead, he's to be 1st Lieutenant to Captain Hart, with a secret order to spy upon this fellow naval officer.

It doesn't take Hayden long to discover what's wrong with the despicable Hart. Hayden's life is quickly reduced to matter of survival. With so many enemies -- Hart and his supporters, mutineers, Napoleon's forces -- what's Hayden to do?

A very enjoyable read, full of interesting sailing terms. My favourite was "scandalize the sails". A pity it wasn't explained.

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Charles Cumming's A Spy by Nature tells the tale of Alec Milius, a London School of Economics graduate whose life suddenly takes a heads up when he's interviewed by the British Secret Service. The trouble with Milius, is that he's still in love with Kate. So he mentions her in the interviews. Rather than tell the truth, he lies. He does that often. Lying.

Much to his surprise, he doesn't get an offer. But all is not lost. He's given a chance to run a scam -- the victims being an American oil company and two CIA operatives working with it. If he succeeds, that job offer will be back on the table.

The result leads right into the sequel, The Spanish Game. Milius is now in hiding in Madrid, terrified the CIA and MI6 are after him. He keeps his head under the radar and uses all the spycraft he's learnt to maintain his anonymity.

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Then he gets a visit from his former best friend, Saul. Is Saul on the up-and-up or is he part of an MI6 plot? Or have the CIA got to him? Is there anyone Milius can trust?

Or is Saul right? Is Milius small fry, long forgotten by the denizens of the spy world?

Gritty and hard. A thought-provoking story of a man with dubious morals in a game lacking any morals at all. 

I was on a roll, so I picked up Cumming's Typhoon. This time, the main character is a decent spy. It's his counterpart at the CIA who's no good.

A Chinese man makes the dangerous night swim to Hong Kong from the mainland just before the British handover to the Chinese. His excellent command of English and insistence that he has information of vital political importance, convinces the soldier who finds him to turn the man over to SIS, rather than the Chinese.

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Joe Lennox is too far down the feed chain to conduct this type of interview, but everyone else is busy. The Chinese mainlander spins a gruesome tale of torture and murder, and Joe falls for it, head first. But next day, Joe discovers the man has disappeared, the explanation  being he was a liar known to the CIA and has been returned to mainland China.

Eight years later, Joe's back in China. This time in Shanghai. So is everyone else of importance from the Hong Kong Fiasco. He wants another chance to put things right. He also wants a chance to win back the woman he loves from Miles, the unprincipled CIA agent who stole her all those years ago.

Another enjoyable read from Cumming, this time with a hero you can cheer for without holding your nose.

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Books mentioned

• The Widow Cliquot: The Story of a Champagne Empire and the Woman who Ran It
• The Barred Window
• Under Enemy Colors
• A Spy by Nature
• The Spanish Game
• Typhoon

Museum Memories, Act 1

I posit that a strong correlation exists between digital camera ownership and picture-taking of massive volume. The key concept being that publishing every shot is never in the picture.

Dancing Maenad, detail
 (Met Museum, New York)

Since laying my hands on one of these infernal machines, I've taken to photography as if there were no tomorrow. My subjects de préférence are museum/gallery displays and architecture (including archaeological ruins). 

I take it as given that snapshots are to objects of breathtaking beauty as potato chips are to snacking¹. So my routine after the plain vanilla, straight-on shot, comprises looking down from above (interior shot), the underside, and from the right and/or left (this is usually an impeded view). In these days of cheap imitation, context is everything. I may snap a group of objects as evidence of relative size. A single item of interest may require a floor-to-ceiling dimensional spotlighting. The more the merrier encapsulates my overall theme.

The Three Graces. Roman
copy of a Greek original.
(Met Museum, New York)

Years of pictorial self-struggle have at last borne fruit. I've finally come to accept a person or two in my composition. Not only do they lend veracity, they act as living yard sticks (metre sticks in Canada).

To say nothing of the dogged² detail shots. My favourites are bits of drapery and the details that you wouldn't expect to see in a book. The type of thing you'd only see in, well, a museum.

Have you ever been to New York's Metropolitan Museum³? It's chock full of antiquities from around the world. If you've been, close your eyes and imagine the view into the Greek Galleries' classical statuary with your back to that huge chunk of fluted column behind you. Whatever you see, I've probably snapped it.

Lapith and Centaur, still at it.
(British Museum)

Perhaps the British Museum's Duveen Gallery is more your cup of tea. Been there? Then close those eyes. Yup, I've likely a snapshot of that too. Need convincing? I've spent so much time in the gallery's heady air staring at the Marbles⁴, that at one point, one appeared to quicken. If you've seen the dark grey copies in New York City's Onassis Cultural Center, you've only glimpsed a faint shadow. Without the marble, at best, they're dead meat. Sorry NYC.

I live within commuting distance of a city with a museum that's the pride and joy of many, or so I assume. Yet I find myself blasé. I rarely visit. I admit it: I'm spoilt rotten. Given the big picture (there's a finite quantity of quality antiquities), I'm disgracefully so. 

Nevertheless, I'm unrepentant. If I can't spend an afternoon in the company of ancient statuary, jewellery, grave-goods et al, I'll take photographs in museums that live up to their name. Then I'll do my utmost to relive those moments.

It's an expensive fix, but apart from travel (I do so wish), what's the alternative? 

* * *

Notes

¹ One is never enough. 

²  Apologies to Jerome K Jerome.

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³ When visiting New York City, the Met is not to be missed. My favourites are the Greek and Roman Galleries, not just for their sculpture, but for their pottery, furniture and wall painting. I also enjoy the Egyptian and the Medieval galleries.

If you're planning a visit to NYC, why not take a look at these:

If you love museums, one day is never enough. The Metropolitan Museum of Art Guide is a great way to help you to prioritize and spend your time wisely. 

It also makes a great souvenir. And better still, is an enticement to planning your next trip!

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If painting is more your style, you should love, 100 Best Paintings in New York by Deanna MacDonald and Geoffrey Smith. This handy guide will aid you in locating the best of the best. Take in the Frick Collection, the Guggenheim, the Met, MOMA, or wherever takes your fancy.

Apart from being a wonderful souvenir, this is another volume that will spur you into preparing your next visit to NYC.

⁴ Who wouldn't want a book on the Parthenon Marbles? Not anyone I'd want to rub shoulders with. Let's see now:

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The Parthenon (part of the Wonders of the World series) by Mary Beard is a gem of a book. Along with a short history, there are two "if you visit" sections -- the building (in Athens) and the Marbles (in London). A must for both the armchair and the airplane traveller.

I dare you to read it and then not be desperate to visit both Athens and London!

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The Parthenon Sculptures (aka The Parthenon Sculptures in the British Museum) by Ian Jenkins, Senior Curator in the British Museum's Department of Greek and Roman Antiquities, is primarily a coffee table tome. If you're looking for pictures, this is the one!

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The Parthenon and Its Sculptures by John Boardman, is a great book filled with detailed historical information about the building and the carvings. I found my copy at the British Museum on display in the main bookshop.

The book you want if you're after both pictures and history.

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The Parthenon Marbles: The Case for Reunification is Christopher Hitchens' impassioned plea for their return to home. I bought the last edition on Berlin's Museum Island and enjoyed his arguments. I've been to Athens. It's expensive to get there and not an easy place for a retiringly polite Canadian. None of the marbles were on display at the new museum, despite having been crated up and moved months before. Nor would they available for many months to come. If I'd wanted to see copies, I'd have skipped the Athens subway and taken the bus to New York City. Self-centred, I know, but for now I'm with London on this one.

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Books mentioned

• The Metropolitan Museum of Art Guide
• 100 Best Paintings in New York
• The Parthenon
• The Parthenon Sculptures (aka The Parthenon Sculptures in the British Museum)
• The Parthenon and Its Sculptures
• The Parthenon Marbles: The Case for Reunification

Rhetoric and Civic Duty -- Third Time Lucky?

Ever noticed the frequency how often people talk about their rights and privileges as opposed to your duties and obligations? Some would place the source of this conundrum squarely upon the shoulders of politicians. I couldn't possible comment.

I regularly come across characters with the most unusual interpretations of their rights and privileges, generally vis-a-vis the hoi poloi. Self-proclaimed lawyers, constitutional experts and United Nations' Human Rights pros, they live in an amazingly pleasant fantasy world.  So, from time-to-time, I find myself on the auditory end of some real doozers. Ah, how ignorance must be bliss.

FU, courtesy amazon.ca

My favourite character is the office worker, cum self-proclaimed legal expert, who firmly believed that every day graced with a name in the Quo Vadis planner  (eg, Anzac Day) was a legal holiday. A no work for full pay day. It must have taken a good 18 months or more of daily interaction before this fantastic interpretation was revealed to me. 

Imagine! Not only could I anticipate October's Thanksgiving with relish, there'd be another one in November, courtesy of the USA! Needless to say, life didn't work out that way. What kind of person believes this stuff? As slithery House of Cards' Francis Urquhart (the great Ian Richardson), was wont to hiss, I couldn't possibly comment¹.

Potter (amazon.ca). Going postal?

Then there's Magic, the age-old solution to the imponderable. According to Henry Hitchings' The Secret Life of English: How English Became English, "influenza" spread to English via the Italian Renaissance. With no understanding of modern disease control, the flu was believed to be the result of malicious influences. Jeremy Irons' Renaissance Borgia would have understood this concept of magic and malefactors. So would Harry Potter fans. Black magic -- much more fun than accusing the modern wet-blanket germ.

A Beak Doctor.
Magic anyone?

I found similar reliance on magic from low-level vultures in the local Health Ministry pecking order to be much less understandable. Assuring me that I was protected by a magic ring, I was denied access to government mandated health services. This contemporary beak doctor was actually proud to have refused several of my kind that day. 

Flabbergasted, I dialled local medical officials (beakists?), along with number of government help lines, to grouse. Famous Grousing would have been more of a pleasure. 

Not that anyone I spoke to was flustered. In fact, I was informed that a magic-based explanation was "normal"⁵. A legitimate case of freedom of religion², insisted another person who couldn't possibly have commented further. Convinced I had been gaslighted, I contacted my MNA, a national (dis)assembler if there ever was one. I was thanked for my "precious information". You'd think I was stuck in a very bad Lord of the Rings³  loop. At least with Tolkien, most of the characters were in agreement that Gollum was bad news and not to be trusted.

Chill double bill: Gollum
& Rotund Birds Character

Despite the self-confessed lawyer and the health magician's strong showing, the Cherry on Top Award goes to a Quebec human rights expert. This enlightened⁵ individual smugly informed me of the human right regarding the illegality of filming without the consent of all characters in your viewfinder. Perhaps it was related to the magical belief that the camera captures your soul. Dangerous stuff, that.

With self-righteous zeal, I was ordered to stop filming a mid-road exercise class for immature adults⁵. Perhaps the right stems from the magical belief that a camera captures your soul. 

Silly me, I had thought my responsibility as a pedestrian was to leave the road free for automotive traffic. Conversely, that it was my right to walk on the sidewalk unimpeded by cars. Look both ways, cross at the corner and all that. I'm not talking about a city street voluntarily blocked for a game of street hockey. Nor is this a case of joggers running single file against the traffic. 

These characters⁵ were acting as if a public road was their own private gymnasium. Since when was it a human right to attempt to cause a traffic accident? 

A method guaranteed to keep life from becoming dull. Good for the economy too⁶.

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Notes

Courtesy amazon.com

¹ Michael Dobbs' fictional Francis Urquhart, MP may be best remembered for the catchphrase "You might well think that; I couldn't possibly comment." Totally self-serving, FU was a real reptilian. Not a nice guy either.

Dobbs' trilogy comprises House of Cards, To Play the King, and The Final Cut.

The 1990s miniseries (one per book) were a joy to watch. Together, the three series rank 84th in the British Film Institute's 100 Greatest British Television Programmes.

² Magic rings? A valid religion? Give me a break.

³ Gollum first appears in The Hobbit. His magic ring (the One Ring) had a malevolent influence. Tolkien was not pretending to write non-fiction. Gollum, once a variety of hobbit, has a habit of muttering to himself. In Tolkien's time, this was considered as an indication of madness. Today, it's generally a conversation on a cellphone.

⁴ Quebec has been described as the toughest jurisdiction in North America to practise photography.

⁵ I don't endorse the clothing, just the message. Should the links be broken, they were just T-shirts. As to the numbering, consider the comments as out of order.

⁶ Auto repair shops, insurance companies, and health professionals, for a start. 

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Books mentioned

• House of Cards trilogy: House of Cards, To Play the King, and The Final Cut
• The Secret Life of English: How English Became English
• Harry Potter series
• Lord of the Rings (trilogy)