Palm Friday

A week ago today, this was the view from my window. We were lying in bed watching a World Cup game (atop what we later came to call the bugspread), when we realized that it was an Osprey instead of a gull that kept flying by outside. I never was able to get his portrait. (Serious time lag on the camera - if I manage an action shot you can pretty much be sure it's by mistake.)

I enjoyed this weary-traveller view of Florida anyway. Plus for me, it's got the anticipation of an Osprey written all over it.

After the game, we ventured out. I thought I spied parasitic growths on the palm trees. But no, they were blooming!

Almost all plants bloom in one way or another I suppose, but I tend to think of those with inconspicuous flowers as non-blooming. You never hear anyone rhapsodizing over oak tree blossoms, for example. Before last week I had assumed that palms were the same. Only it turns out that all my previous trips to Florida were just mis-timed to catch them.



They bloom. And this type produced little berries also.



I believe they were Cabbage palms (Sabal palmetto).

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* Bugspread = bedspread, with bugs! The Indian River was just at the back of the hotel, and if I'd had a brain at all I'd have realized when I made the reservation that a nice $59 hotel room on the water was too good to be true.

** You never hear anyone rhapsodizing over oak tree blossoms, for example.
Except Dave.

Busy busy busy

An autumn view of the workshop where I'm holed up working like a maniac this week. We've got a craft show that starts Friday, and as usual I've got a lot of last-minute preparation to do.

The show is in downtown Birmingham, Alabama. If you are local and would like to receive a discount coupon (for our handmade soap and other stuff, valid only at the show), send me an email (address in side bar) with "coupon" in the subject line.

In other business news, I found out that the answering machine doesn't work so well if it's not plugged in. Apologies to anyone who's tried to call and just got an endless ringing phone.

Copenhagen, City of Bicycles: the Book

When the Bicycle Quarterly Press asked me to review Copenhagen, City of Bicycles, I could not help but wonder what this book could offer that the world of bicycle blogs has not already familiarised us with. In 2007 a certain Mr. Colville Andersen flung open a virtual window into the pedaling soul of the small Scandinavian city with Copenhagenize and Copenhagen Cycle Chic, establishing its worldwide reputation as a cycling mecca. Since then, Copenhagen has become synonymous with cycling - with fashion-oriented bicycle bloggers paying homage to its style and progressive city planners eager to emulate its infrastructure. Given the wealth of imagery and information on the topic readily available online, what can a book aboutCopenhagen and bicycles tell us that we don't already know?



Of course, it's not always in the "what," but in the "how." In Copenhagen, City of Bicycles Cecilia Vanman presents a comprehensive, colourfully illustrated introduction to the city's cycling culture and history, painting a portrait of a magical, happy place that the reader will long to visit. The photography (by Robyn Maddock) makes liberal use of fading sunlight, infusing the images with a warm, dynamic and nostalgic feel. The layout is clean, contemporary and easy to follow - despite the side-by-side placement of Danish and English text. Divided into 9 chapters, it maintains a clear sense of structure and direction from beginning to end. The narrative flows easily, steering clear of dry technical talk and empty "fluff" in equal measure. The tone is friendly and never condescending.



While those uninformed about Copenhagen's cycling culture will undoubtedly benefit from this bookthe most, it is not without novel information even for readers who've been browsing bicycle blogs for years. I found the chapter about manufacturers and framebuilders informative, and many other random interesting tidbits throughout. I also enjoyed the pictures of some unique vintage and modified bicycles and wished there were more of those.



The one part of the book that did come across to me as redundant, was the chapter consisting of photos and brief bios of Copenhagen cyclists. This is a tactic that I feel is best left to the realm of blogs and flickr - it is more effective there than in print. But overall, I would say that City of Bicycles summarises and supplements, rather than competes with, the Copenhagen-oriented bicycle blogs.

Copenhagen, City of Bicycles is published by Nyt Nordisk/ Arnold Busck, and distributed in North America by the Bicycle Quarterly Press. If you would like to receive my reviewer's copy for free, please leave a comment by Sunday 11:59pm US Pacific time (with a functional email address where I can readily reach you - this proved to be a problem again for the last give-away) - and I will choose the recipient at random. Enjoy the long weekend!

A Moveable View

Staying by the sea, I notice how unaccustomed I've become to a stationary view of any kind. Back in the city, the windows of my apartment offer vistas of a brick wall, a narrow alley, a tangle of branches and telephone wires. And I usually keep the blinds closed when I work anyhow; there is too much commotion outside.



But now I sit on this porch, just yards from the water's edge. A vast harbor is stretched out in front of me. The surface ripples of the cerulean water are like a silk scarf fluttering in the wind. Lobster buoys bob up and down. Now and then a fishing boat goes by. A family of swans travels back and forth along the shore in perfect peloton formation.



It is peaceful and almost improbably beautiful. And as I try to work, I find that it drives me nuts - the unchangeability of it. I am not used to looking at scenery so... passively. My eyes focus on the right outeredge of the harbor, where the rocky shore curves and disappears from view. As I study it, the curve begins to look hard-etched and forbidding, willfully preventing me from seeing beyond the bend.



In fact, I know - roughly at least - what lies around the bend; I have been there many times. A hilly back road winds along the shore's edge sleepily. There is a small patch of dense woods along the cliffs, then a gravel garden path, a wild rocky beach, an abandoned coast guard's tower... Soon I am visualising each of these landmarks in great detail, picturing them as they look when I cycle past them. I laugh at myself, realising that I am enjoying this mental game more than looking at the view in front of me.



I close my laptop, get on my bike and take off just as the sun begins to set, heading for the hilly back road that will take me around the bend. No one else is here. The road narrows and steepens dramatically and I get into my lowest gear. With each pedal stroke I see more and more of the landscape that was hidden from view as I sat on the porch just minutes earlier, and this fills me with an absurd sense of fulfillment. I reach the top easily, unhurriedly, and there sits the patch of woods with its narrow mossy path to the edge of the cliff. I keep going, coasting down the steep hill now at what feels like flying speed, passing all the landmarks I'd recalled. The mysterious garden path, the wild beach. And I remember now also the old sprawling house with a beautiful garden and the "bunnies for sale" sign taped to the green fence. After the coastguard's house I stop and turn around, my urge to experience a movable view satisfied. It seems silly now to have taken this short ride for no reason at all, but I am pleased.



I roll up to the porch as the last of daylight disappears. The vast harbor is still there, its fluttering silk surface now a deep indigo. A green light flickers in the distance. A stray boat is being rowed ashore. The swan peloton is making its last round. I get my coffee cup and turn on the porch light, ready to settle down in the stillness. But I know the moveable view will call out to me again tomorrow, even though I know what's around the bend.

More from Washington DC

Pass It Along

A few weeks ago, I experienced my very first incident of dropping a chain. Of all the times this could happen, it happened during a paceline ride: We were transitioning from a downhill to an abrupt uphill and I rapidly switched to the small chainring. It's funny how we don't immediately recognise things that we haven't experienced before, and it took me a moment to understand what was happening. I sensed that pedaling suddenly became way too easy and that I was losing speed rapidly... but what could be the matter? It wasn't until somebody yelled "chain off!" that I looked down - and oh my God, my chain was off! It was surreal, like one of those dreams where someone says "But why are you wearing a duck costume?" and that's when you realise that, indeed, you are wearing a duck costume. First comes the wave of shock, then realisation that this must be a dream. Except this time I was awake - and aware that three other girls were pedaling behind me, so that a sudden stop on my part would likely cause a crash.

Everything happened quickly. I managed to make a "pulling over" gesture, then steered the chainless bike onto the grass and dismounted, averting disaster.But the rest was pathetic. Though I knew how to get the chain back on, my hands were not cooperating. Soon I was covered in grease and bleeding from somehow having cut myself on the chainring, but the chain would not stay on. "Need help?" said a voice next to me. I became aware that one woman stayed behind with me and was now observing my ineptitude. Still in a state of shock and now also red with embarrassment, I could not even answer coherently, and could only mutter "it won't stay on... why won't it stay on?.." Next thing I knew, she calmly took the bike from me, put the chain back on the ring, and turned the pedals until the chain was back on. I felt like an idiot as I thanked her profusely - but she expressed not an ounce of annoyance. "Don't worry about it. I froze the first time it happened too." I don't know whether this was true, or whether she was just being self-deprecating to make me feel better, but it did make me feel better.

Fast forward to my ride this morning. I stopped to drink some water and saw a woman walking her bike toward me from the side of the road. "Excuse me, could I use your phone?" I gave her my phone and asked what happened. She replied, with some embarrassment, that her chain came off and she wasn't able to get it back on. She wanted to call her boyfriend for a ride. "I know how to do it, but it's just not working." I looked at her chain and decided to give it a try. This time I wasn't nervous or under pressure to fix my bike as soon as possible. I said "May I?" and - miracle of miracles - got the chain back on. She rode the bike down the path and back, confirmed that it was working, and no longer wanted to call her boyfriend. She was just as flustered about not having been able to do it herself as I had been two weeks earlier. So I said the same thing the woman in the paceline had said to me:"Don't worry about it. I froze the first time it happened too." It was true!

When mechanical problems happen, I think it's natural to freeze. We may know how to fix things in theory, but when it's actually happening to us for the first time, it's a different story. It's nice to be helped without being judged as inept. I appreciated that help when I got it, and will reciprocate in the same manner when I can.

Phend-Fisher Family Reunion Ledger (1929)

The 20th Annual Reunion of the Phend Fisher families was held at McNaughton Park Sun Aug 30th 1929.

Dinner at noon followed by business session. The meeting was called to order by Harold Phend vice President in the absense of Claud Poole, President, who was unable to be present.

Secretary's report was read and approved and bills allowed. After a great deal of discussion it was decided to have the date of next meeting the last Sunday in August as heretofore and committees were chosen.

Entertainment
Barton Thornton Chr.
Goldie Gerrard
Ruth Phend.
Arrangement
Mrs. Ed. Phend Chr.
Acquainted
Mrs. John Ernest.

Because of general dissatisfaction with

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McNaughton Park as a place of meeting it was voted to have the next reunion at the home of R. H. Phend and all were urged to come and bring their families. The attendance was the smallest in years, being 61.

Flowers were sent to Christian Phend of Nappanee and to Jacob Phend of near Granger both of whom were seriously ill. Fred Ernest was asked to bring the Family Tree up to date and present it again next year.

Officers Elected
President Harold Phend
Vice President Reuben Pletcher
Treasurer John Ernest
Secretary Raymond Phend

Meeting was closed by President and general visiting and games began.

R. H. Phend, Sec.

Cycling Shorts: Care and Rotation

The process of laundering padded bicycle shorts has confused me for as long as I've worn them. Over the summer I cycled pretty much every day, which meant having to wash the one pair of shorts I owned every night (the shorts were wool, but the chamois still had to be washed). After several months of this the shorts looked like they'd been dragged through the hedge backwards, and I am sure the frequent washing and wringing caused this at least as much as the wear. The same happened in the fall/winter season with my synthetic tights. I've tried different techniques, washing by hand in the sink in the most gentle manner possible. I also try to wash just the chamois area and not the entire short, which speeds drying time and decreases wear on the rest if the fabric. Now that I have a new pair of special club-embroidered shorts, I don't want them to meet the same fate as my old ones. Is there a special soap I'm supposed to use? Is there a way to dry the shorts overnight without wringing them out?



The other day I received the packing list for CORPSCamp - my upcoming 5 day trip to Death Valley - and this list says to pack 5 pairs of cycling shorts. As in, one for each day. I was kind of shocked to see that, and suddenly felt like that kid at school who gets made fun of for wearing the same outfit every day. Are you seriously telling me that cyclists own that many shorts? What about the people I ride with who always wear their club's kit - do they own multiple pairs of identical shorts, so it just looks like they're wearing the same thing?..The logistics are mystifying.



So let me ask this straight out: Assuming you are a roadcyclist, how many pairs of bicycle shorts do you have in rotation at a time? And how do you launder them?

Dancing the night away in Casa de la Trova

The blood that is MUSIC and DANCE runs in every Cuban’s veins. People there live to sing and dance. This isreally serious business in Cuba.







In every town and city in the country, they have a ‘Casa de la Trova’. It’s a community social centre where the locals from the neighbourhood gather in the evening together except that playing music and dancing are on top of the agenda. In Santiago de Cuba they have opened the Casa de la Trova to tourists for a minimal fee of CUC$5 per person. In fact, the Casa de la Trova in Santiago de Cuba is the most famous because they feature the unique musical style—‘Son’.



Naturally, Blondine and I did not let this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity pass. We had luck as well because the Casa de la Trova is located just beside our hotel, Hotel Casa Granda. So very near, we can go back to our room late!



So we went and paid, and we took our seats right on the front row. Perfect, we have the best seat in the casa.











The night started with some cha-cha-cha dancing. Blondine and I were invited by the local males to dance with them but we were coy--NOT. Well, our apologies misters, Blondine and I are allergic to dancing. We just came to watch and enjoy the music really, so kindly leave us alone please =)



Honestly, I don’t think Blondine and I will ever let our hair down. It’s just not us—well, unless we are with our partners, then that changes the situation drastically. In our travels, we are constantly plagued and felt the need to show off our prim and proper behaviour. It is something that is unnatural that has become natural. Am I making sense? Or am I truly getting old? All that fun and wild night life does not interest us anymore. I know it sounds pretty boring, but its part of growing old (and becoming responsible like behaving your age--Hi, I am 42).



Or like I said, it is just not us, or not for us.



Anyway, the entertainment started with the ‘Son’ band and a female guest singer. Then a couple, who are part of the act, came forward and danced together. Here is the video below:








Then later into the night, after the band and dancers have gone around selling their CD's and asking for tips, they opened again the dance floor for everyone to dance the night away. I took another video of everyone getting into the groove on the dance floor:








As you can see, it is quite busy at Santiago de Cuba's Casa de la Trova. Everyone here wants to jiggle and party, well except us, the boring ladies who just want to watch, haha.



So, when you find yourself in Santiago de Cuba, do not miss Casa de la Trova!







And oh, this is what we ate for our last evening in Santiago de Cuba, at Hotel Casa Granda. We were so full from the El Cayo Restaurantlunch bingeing that I opted for vegetables and a yummy pina colada. Blondine was craving for pizza though. Then we had coffee and an egg flan.



For the next day we are off to the eastern part of Cuba, to the islands, to Cayo Coco!

Damrak and shopping in Bijenkorf

Friday at work is our casual dress day but if I have a client call I am usually in formal business attire. As a person, my style tends to lean towards classic, so even if I dress casual, I still look a bit formal. I can never do t-shirts and rubber shoes. When I wear jeans I always pair it up with high heels otherwise I would feel naked.



It is officially autumn in the Netherlands but today we had summer. Actually, for the whole week we had summer temperatures which is of course a delight to us as we don’t often have clear skies and sunny weather. I had a client visit today but I was not in the mood to dress up business formal because of the warm weather. Yesterday I wore my usual business outfit and I was sweating like a pig. Pffft!



Anyway, after work today I went to Bijenkorf in Amsterdam to buy the item I have been eyeing for since last weekend.



Shopping in Bijenkorf today.



I saw this particular item last week in Bijenkorf Utrecht and when I came back yesterday to buy it, it was gone. I was told by the sales girl that there are only 2 left in the whole of Bijenkorf in the Netherlands and they are in Amsterdam. I was already thinking of buying the thing online direct from the designer’s website but I hate to think of the duties and taxes plus the hassles of picking up the item since I am never at home during the day.



Got to Bijenkorf Amsterdam and saw the thing and it is the last one! Whew, I bought it. It was Dwaze Dagen in Bijenkorf and the sales ladies and gentlemen were all dressed in funny characters in yellow. Unfortunately the item I bought was not part of the Dwaze Dagen discount.



Parked the car in Q-Park/Bijenkorf which is as usual unbelievably expensive. I paid 12 EUR for just 2.5 hours park.



I also took a few fotos of Damrak. This area of Amsterdam is always teeming with people and cyclists. The Damrak is the street where the trams pass from the Dam Square leading to Amsterdam Centraal (Train) Station.



Last Tuesday I was here in Amsterdam in the same area and in fact we parked at Q-Park/Bijenkorf as well. I had dinner with colleagues from Geneve and the Netherlands in Brasserie Harkema which is located in Nes street, just a few minutes’ walk from Damrak. I was too busy talking during dinner I forgot to take fotos. Well, when I am dining with colleagues and business partners I rarely take fotos anyway.



My rating for the food at Harkema: Cesar Salad—4 stars, Grilled Tuna—4.5 stars, Tiramisu—4.5 stars. The place is quite big, modern and trendy however it doesn’t offer a cosy ambiance. It’s more like a business restaurant. Well, we ate there for business anyway.



Here are a few fotos in Damrak:



Visit Period: September

Cassi and her Feather

and a 5 and a 6

What would life be with out more critters to take care of. As if we didn't have enough horses we let ourselves be suckered in to taking 2 more horses last July. Acutually they are ponies. Well sort of. Number 5 is Stormy who is half Minuture Horse and half Shetland, number 6 is Traveler who is half Tennessee Walking Horse and half Shetland. They are half brothers on their Shetland mama side. You wouldn't know it to look at them. Stormy is the short solid black one and Travey is the larger pinto. At this time they are still stallions and I am not sure when or if we will geld them. Right now they don't seem to know they are stallions but I am sure that will change when the mares start coming in season soon. Right now all they want to do is play. And play they do. They are constantly running, bucking, kicking, and biting on each other. They need the excersise and it runs them down as it would little kids on the playground. I have hopes someday of a cart and harrness but that might be another dream. Travey is terrified of any kind of rope around his rear end. Stormy does ok and both are good at leading, grooming, and tying now. You can see the difference in their size in the photo and I hope Travey doesn't get so big I have to seperate them. He does seem to be getting taller, remember he is half Tennessee Walker, and is not quite 2 years old yet. Stormy is almost 3.

Morning Glory Tower

This is part of the tower of morning glories in my garden. I originally had them on a 15-foot pole, but they kept growing to the top, so I put in some bamboo extensions the other day. They are already twining up!