Jazz & The Spoken Word, set one

 

 

With the Joshua Breakstone group, Bonds Rosary, January 10, 2025

On the turntable:  Dry Cleaning, "Stumpwork"

 

This Friday...

 

 

On the turntable:  Junior Wells, "Calling All Blues"

 

Happy New Year!

A year in reads: 2024

 

On the turntable: Cowboy Junkies, "Long Journey Home"

Sunday Papers: Chris T-T

 

"Rock has remarkably quickly become just a peripheral, niche art-form, lost within the pop diaspora, similarly to what happened to jazz when rock’n’roll happened in the 1950s."

 

On the turntable:  Jack Johnson, "Jack Johnson's Holiday Jams"

 

Seeking Adventure in Japan's Newest National Park

 

Another piece born out of last summer's trip to Hokkaido. Thank you to Outdoor Japan and Gear Junkie for putting it together.  

https://gearjunkie.com/travel/adventure-newest-national-park-japan

 

On the turntable: Louis Jordan, "Jivin' with Jordan"

 

Sunday Papers: Albert Camus

 

"Note that our age marks the end of ideologies.  The atom bomb prohibits ideologies."

 

On the turntable: Desparacidos, "Anonymous/Left is Right"

 

Tracking the Unseen in the Old Capital

 

 

A nice treat to see my latest article live on The Japan Times...

https://www.japantimes.co.jp/life/2024/10/26/travel/kyoto-haunted-ghosts-halloween/

 

On the turntable:  Phish, "1995-12-07, Niagara Convention Center"

 

Sunday Papers: Kyle Frost

 

"I feel like most travel writing and promotion in 2024 has one flavor – “Hey, visit here, it’s great”. Influencer culture has narrowed the scope of storytelling, minimizing meaningful reflections and stories in favor of nicely packaged Instagram posts, snappily edited TikToks, and SEO-optimized blogs that are more about appealing to every possible Google search."

 

On the turntable:  Phish, "1994-12-01, Salem Armory"

October 14 Elegy

 

 

Sunday Papers: William Carlos Williams

 

"Memory is a kind of accomplishment." 

 

On the turntable:  Neil Young, "Journey to the Past"

 

Venturing into the Garden of the Gods

 

Thank you to the iconic Outdoor Japan magazine for sending me out on a fun and educational journey...

https://www.outdoorjapan.com/activities/travel/venturing-into-the-garden-of-the-gods/ 

 

On the turntable:  Phish, 1993-08-07, Darien center, NY

 

Set-jetting with the Shogun

 

 

Thank you to The Japan Times for publishing my latest piece, on a rather timely subject. The print version is expected to appear on Saturday.

 

https://www.japantimes.co.jp/life/2024/09/17/travel/shogun-osaka-castle-travel-historical-sites/ 

 

On the turntable: The New Pornographers, "Brill Bruisers"

Sunday Papers: Simone de Beauvoir

 

"In America, the individual is nothing. He is made into an abstract object of worship; by persuading him of his individual value. One stifles the awakening of a collective spirit in him. But reduced to himself in this way, he is robbed of any concrete power. Without collective hope or personal audacity, what can the individual do? Submit or, if by some rare chance this submission is too odious, leave the country."

 

On the turntable:  Neil Young, "Mixed Pages of Storytone"

 

Sunday Papers: Bob Copper

 

"The consequent invasion has taken its toll and, sadly but incontrovertibly, many of our most cherished heritages have suffered the fate of becoming tourist attractions. And you don't have to be madly misanthropic to recognize that the presence of people means pollution. When commercialism comes barging in through the front door, romance and beauty tiptoe hand-in-hand out at the back." 

 

On the turntable:  Spoon, "Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga"

 

Sunday Papers; Michel-Rolph Trouillot

 

"Human beings participate in history both as actors and narrators" 

On the turntable: Santana, "Santana III"

Cycling through Asuka

 

 

After 10 years away, I'm quite pleased to have an article in The Japan Times again.

https://www.japantimes.co.jp/life/2024/07/06/travel/asuka-tour-cycling-temples/ 

 

On the turntable:  Neil Young, "Live in San Francisco 1986 , Part One"

 

Sunday Papers: Hunter S. Thompson

 

"Life has improved immeasurably since I have been forced to stop taking it seriously." 

On the turntable: The Smashing Pumpkins, "Pisces Iscariot"

 

 

Sunday Papers: Gary Shteyngart

 

"Our country does not provide the education and upbringing that allow its citizens an interior life."

 

 On the turntable: Snooks Eaglin, "New Orleans Street Singer"

 

Greek Sketches: Southbound

 

...we meander Thessaloniki, past ruins lying in open lots between the streets, in search of Byzantine churches, in search of lunch, in search of coffee.  The amazing Archeological Museum, Arch of Galerius, Rotunda.  Mount Olympus steadfast across the water, ships moving toward the Aegean.  Posters and stills in cafes for films I've never seen.  Dinner in a woody, nautical themed place that looked more at home in New England, or Central California, but for the bouzouki strumming in a back room.  We meet Adam in the morning, to wander the markets to sample Turkish delights, then up to the castle ruins to pose and photograph. Long lunch on a veranda with great views over the city, plus pizza and wine, as LYL tells our respective futures from Turkish coffee residue... 

...the road south.  A fire in a tunnel brings traffic to a crawl, but we escape before we get caught in it, and the rest of the afternoon is a long counter-clockwise loop around Olympus. Lingering snow on her upper flanks halts any discussion about a springtime climb.  The valleys beneath are broad and high, bringing to mind Colorado yet again...

...long pause in Volos, sipping cloudy ouzo on a patio beneath a spreading tree, talking Jason and the Argonauts who sailed from here.  It today has a somewhat run-down look, graffiti laden, with some threatening backstreets.  We wander one, peering through a workshop piled high with antique saddles.  The waterfront is tidier, with a massive model of Jason's Argo, and a sign warning Turkey to get their hands of Cyprus...

 

..the road climbs high along the Pelion peninsula, though little clinging villages that Adam narrates, creating bridges to legend and antiquity.   A brief stop for honey, then into Kissos as dark falls full.  This is our base for the night, in a beautiful old inn that is as charming as it is dark and cold.  The morning rain is heavy, so we linger long in our room before fleeing to a small and dark cafe in the village square, once again transported to the middle ages.  We read beside the fire until Adam shows up, then we grab our bags to descend through the fog to Agios Ioannis for lunch.  All is windy and stormy, the waves bashing against the concrete breakwater mere meters from the terrace where we dine...

 

...two nights at Damouchari.  I'd wanted the room at Ghermaniko Guesthouse where Romy Schneider stayed, but a German family has it.  Our room above the water is bright and spacious and has a massive terrace, where I read away much of our time here.  Little else to do but stroll the cliffside paths out to ruined cave temples, and to hidden beaches fed by towering waterfalls.   We share the paths with no one but olive trees and goats.  The quiet almost haunts us, here in the domain of the Centaurs.   We take a few meals on the stone terrace of Miramare, beneath photos of the cast of Mamma Mia, shot in this little bay.  (I hadn't seen the film, and upon watching it later, wish I still hadn't.) A fox joins us for lunch one afternoon, which I could practically hand-feed.  The Aegean beckons, but the wind-swept waves remain high and too dangerous to swim...

...driving the winding roads of the peninsula, visiting friends of Adam, both expat and local. Lunch at Itamos, then meander the stone paths up and down the hilly villages in order to work off the wine.  Tsagkarada is a regular fixture, particularly its great tree.  A final dinner with Adam at the magical Lost Unicorn, with the wine and conversation, cats and fireplace...

 

...and northbound again, albeit briefly.  Lunch at Dion, busy with Sunday families, then wander its remarkably expansive ruins, an overlap of Roman and Hellenic, where Alexander paid tribute before sojourning onward to Persia.  Olympus majestic above all.  I drive as far up its flanks as I can, then wander a trail briefly before retreating from the increasing rain, popping into a lively cafe here where hikes have been abandoned in favor of booze.  All is sunny and bright down in Litochoro. It is a charming little town, with an outdoorsy basecamp vibe that I always love.  We have a slow dinner at Gastrodromio, LYL looking toward the sea; me up the gaping yaw of valleys toward an Olympus fading in the light, whose full snowy form I won't see until the clear light of morning...        

...the incredibly varying scenery along the back roads, highlighting the vast extent of Greece's gastronomic agriculture.  We bisect a number of mountain ranges laterally, making us earn the journey back to Hellenic Greece.  The Monastery of Agathon is a courtyard oasis that is almost Himalayan, perched high above a broad river valley.  We dine on this view further over a terrace lunch nearby, before wending down past a downed fighter plane on a hillside, a tank in a village square.  And modern day tanks, caravans with license plates from all across Europe, clutter the landscape around Thermopylae.  I knew of the battle here, but not the springs.  I appreciate those more, and walk along the fast running stream of pleasant heat, trouser legs rolled high...

 

...we are surprised by the amount of snow on Parnassus, and surprised even more by a group of wild horses running up the road, thankfully cleared.  We keep pace with them awhile, before speeding onward to Arachova.  This too is a pleasant town, and our room sits on the valley edge, the perfect perch for late afternoon reading.  We wander the town as the light falls, up to the church atop all, though sadly our target taverna across the square is inexplicably closed.  We find another in the town center, Bonjour Cafe, with a cool wine cellar built into an ancient basement. Around the corner is a small Judo school.  I pop in and talk awhile with the teacher, a friendly young guy whose full beard and physique are outright heroic. Walking the dark lanes to our room, we pass an old women who enters a modest house on the corner.  Looking back, we note that the home she seemed to enter is boarded up, abandoned.  For two weeks we've been in pursuit of the ghosts of history, but here in this small town we've seen the real thing, one who probably never appeared in the pages of a Penguin paperback... 

..Arachova is on the doorstep of Delphi, so after grabbing take-away coffee and bread, we rush over to beat the tourist coaches.  We've done well, but more and more people arrive as we stroll the stones crawling uphill, and the fallen columns that are simply everywhere.  There are too many people are the museum, but we have the Tholos to ourselves, sitting quietly above the view...

 

...the drive back to Athens is through civilization gradually making its presence felt. Brief stops at Elefsina and Marathon, thankfully devoid of anyone but us.  The final descent through the hills is through a blackened landscape of last year's fires.  We wander aimlessly in search of lunch, which we take in Exarcheia, with its "edgy alternative vibe, its streets decorated with politically charged murals and lined with anarchist bookshops and stores selling rare vinyl and vintage guitars. Bars and clubs host live music, including rembetika (Greek blues), jazz and punk acts."  (Thank you G**gle.)  I love parts of cities like this, a mix of student and boho community with a dangerous feel that reminds me somehow of Seattle of the grunge years.  The archeological museum nearby impresses, then we continue our wander to get to the Acropolis for our reserved entry around sunset.  The alleys below are a riot of people, Americans mainly.  We retreat into smaller lanes, finding a quiet cafe beside Hadrian's Library.  Our server is a poet, and not being busy, he has time to chat Japanese poetry, and of course Lafcadio Hearn.  The Acropolis is as I remember, but sunset is far more pleasant than the heat of full morning.  I'm still put off by the never ending construction, and by the crowds, which are admittedly smaller at this hour.  I am far more taken this time with the views of the city.  We descend past a West African playing kora, and on into the tourist labyrinth of the Plaka.  We'd read about a classic old restaurant, with a mid-twentieth century vibe of old tables and celebrity photographs everywhere.  But this last meal in Greece was the worst of the trip, and the tourist circus outside was grating.  Two weeks in the countryside had given us so much, had taught me a great deal.  So it was a shame to end the trip this way, surrounded by the trappings of a century that thus far, has failed to impress...

 

On the turntable: Phish,  '1998-04-04, Providence Civic Center"