The man who smiles when things go wrong has thought of someone to blame it on.
- Robert Bloch
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Naples part VI: More Termini
This is mainly a post to show off the beauty of the Sorrento peninsula and the sunsets you get out there. I drove up into the hillside above Termini and walked the last quarter mile or so (which was straight up!) to an old, abandoned church. Only towards the end of my shoot did I realize that the cliffs I was photographing to the south wasn't part of the mainland, but actually the eastermost end of Capri.
The shoot itself was an incredible experience. It was so beautiful and windswept up at the top. The light on the water kept changing every few seconds, as the wind moved the clouds around and subsequently changed how much light reached the water. Ahhhhh.
To the east I had the dark and mysterious Lattari Mountains (the name Lattari means milk, so I guess they're not that dark and mysterious after all).
...in the land of Mordor, where the shadows lie...
This is one of the earlier pics.
This too. Here you can just see the east end of Capri in the bottom right hand corner.
A little more of Capri.
The top in the foreground was closed off (bastards!). That'll be Capri in the back.
Sho, sho purdy.
Sometimes you got a lot of light.
Sigh.
The shoot itself was an incredible experience. It was so beautiful and windswept up at the top. The light on the water kept changing every few seconds, as the wind moved the clouds around and subsequently changed how much light reached the water. Ahhhhh.
To the east I had the dark and mysterious Lattari Mountains (the name Lattari means milk, so I guess they're not that dark and mysterious after all).
...in the land of Mordor, where the shadows lie...
This is one of the earlier pics.
This too. Here you can just see the east end of Capri in the bottom right hand corner.
A little more of Capri.
The top in the foreground was closed off (bastards!). That'll be Capri in the back.
Sho, sho purdy.
Sometimes you got a lot of light.
Sigh.
Naples part V: Termini
After two nights in Naples I set off for Termini, a tiny hamlet about 90 mins to the south, on the Sorrento peninsula. Cell phone coverage was horribly patchy, sometimes I'd receive messages more than 24 hours late. The apartment I'd rented wasn't exactly what I'd expected. There was no connection between the 1st and 2nd floor, you had to go outside to walk between them. The washing machine took 2 hours to finish a cycle, and the water pressure in the shower was laughable.
It was freezing indoors, unless you had two heaters working on the 2nd floor, and one of the heaters was a kerosene contraption that needed refill every 10-12 hours, something the landlord didn't entrust me to do on my own (probably a wise decision...). Put on a third heater and the power went out. I also had to fiddle around with the hot water boiler in the bathroom to use just the right amount of electricity, particularly when people arrived and started occupying the 1st floor. I had to give them the electrical heater, so I froze... yes froze for the people downstairs. But that's just the kind of guy I am. *stoic sniffle*
The pics I took in Termini were taken over several days, put I'm putting them all into two posts. There were great views over Capri, and if you went up the hill above town (which I did) you had incredible views over pretty much the whole peninsula- more about that later. All pics from Termini are here.
The 2nd floor of the apartment. I stayed here. Yes, the picture on the wall is creepy.
The Italians are nothing, if not tacky.
This creepy Santa Claus went up and down the "chimney". It must have been run on some kind of compressor. T-A-C-K-Y.
This is the cake that was given to me by my landlord when I took possession of the house. A week later it was still not finished.
The view over to Capri from the village parking lot was nice.
It was freezing indoors, unless you had two heaters working on the 2nd floor, and one of the heaters was a kerosene contraption that needed refill every 10-12 hours, something the landlord didn't entrust me to do on my own (probably a wise decision...). Put on a third heater and the power went out. I also had to fiddle around with the hot water boiler in the bathroom to use just the right amount of electricity, particularly when people arrived and started occupying the 1st floor. I had to give them the electrical heater, so I froze... yes froze for the people downstairs. But that's just the kind of guy I am. *stoic sniffle*
The pics I took in Termini were taken over several days, put I'm putting them all into two posts. There were great views over Capri, and if you went up the hill above town (which I did) you had incredible views over pretty much the whole peninsula- more about that later. All pics from Termini are here.
The 2nd floor of the apartment. I stayed here. Yes, the picture on the wall is creepy.
The Italians are nothing, if not tacky.
This creepy Santa Claus went up and down the "chimney". It must have been run on some kind of compressor. T-A-C-K-Y.
This is the cake that was given to me by my landlord when I took possession of the house. A week later it was still not finished.
The view over to Capri from the village parking lot was nice.
Quote of the Day
The masses have little time to think. And how incredible is the willingness of modern man to believe.
- Benito Mussolini
- Benito Mussolini
Monday, January 3, 2011
Naples part IV: The Archaeological Museum
After stuffin face I quickly made my way to the Museo Archeologico, where most of the goodies from Pompeii are stored, along with other assorted bits and ends from Italy's long and illustrious history. Sadly, the museum closed early on the 24th, and I was already relatively late so I only managed to see the frescoes from Pompeii and Herculaneum, and catch a quick glimpse of some of the busts and statues. Next time I'll do a thorough examination of the whole museum, I pwomise! All pics from the museum can be seen here.
Picture of an artist's mask.
The colors on some of these frescoes are amazingly vivid, 2000 years later.
I tought I taw a puttycat...
God & angel? Uhm, no. Jupiter and cherub, long before the perverted idea of christianity ever reared its ugly head.
(Warning: Internal Norwegian joke) I knew Ibsen spent time in Sorrento, but not that he was there 2,000 years ago...
This double portrait is one of the most famous from Pompeii. I bought ten postcards with this motive.
A huge model of Pompeii.
Apparently, the old Romans were not above reusing stuff. This head of Julius Caesar was put on top of an unrelated body of a much older statue.
Picture of an artist's mask.
The colors on some of these frescoes are amazingly vivid, 2000 years later.
I tought I taw a puttycat...
God & angel? Uhm, no. Jupiter and cherub, long before the perverted idea of christianity ever reared its ugly head.
(Warning: Internal Norwegian joke) I knew Ibsen spent time in Sorrento, but not that he was there 2,000 years ago...
This double portrait is one of the most famous from Pompeii. I bought ten postcards with this motive.
A huge model of Pompeii.
Apparently, the old Romans were not above reusing stuff. This head of Julius Caesar was put on top of an unrelated body of a much older statue.
Naples part III: Pizza!
Aight, people! I am home again and ready to blog about my recently spent ten day journey around Naples, Italy. As you will remember I reached Naples in the very early morning of Friday, Dec 24 after a brush with death on the plane down from Munich.
I still got up reasonably early and went to feast on that most hyped of Neapolitan specialities: the pizza. I am happy to report that the pizza in Naples is, indeed, the best in Italy (though that is not necessarily saying much). I went into a restaurant and, this being Naples, of course absolutely nobody spoke a word of English. By hand signals and grunting I managed to convey my desire to sit at a table and I even managed to speak Italian sufficiently to order a pizza with ham, salami and cheese. (Prosciutto, salami and formaggio if you wonder).
The whole business of making the pizza was quite interesting. There were a couple of guys standing at a counter, picking up little pieces of dough which they expertly rolled into very thin, vaguely pizza-shaped objects, which they then sprinkled with various goodies according to order. A third guy was wielding an oven spade like nobody's business, transporting the pizzas in and out of a huge stone oven standing in the corner. A fourth guy, a young Asian-looking kid served as the waiter, and he had to run around balancing things on trays, taking order and payments and generally working his ass off.
You could literally see every step of the pizza-making process. There was a lot of noise, mostly from the conversation, which in typical Italian style was conducted at upwards of 100 decibels. Customers and friends (I assume) of the establishment were dropping by all the time and the general spirits were high.
I also managed to catch a glimpse of the earlier stages of the process, as through an open back door I spotted an old woman making a fresh batch of tomato sauce - dumping various ingredients into a huge bucket and churning it around - all the while smoking like a chimney. Fortunately I'd already eaten most of my pizza and I can't say it tasted like ashes...
I doubt if a single part of the whole operation, from sauce making to cooking would have been approved by the health board here in Norway, but by Jove, the pizza was excellent!
A Neapolitan pizza - I don't know if this was a tourist thing or if their pizzas generally have more stuff on them than in other parts of Italy. They're wafer thin, so I had no problems consuming a whole one.
The hand that stirs the sauce...
The oven in which the pizzas were cooked.
I still got up reasonably early and went to feast on that most hyped of Neapolitan specialities: the pizza. I am happy to report that the pizza in Naples is, indeed, the best in Italy (though that is not necessarily saying much). I went into a restaurant and, this being Naples, of course absolutely nobody spoke a word of English. By hand signals and grunting I managed to convey my desire to sit at a table and I even managed to speak Italian sufficiently to order a pizza with ham, salami and cheese. (Prosciutto, salami and formaggio if you wonder).
The whole business of making the pizza was quite interesting. There were a couple of guys standing at a counter, picking up little pieces of dough which they expertly rolled into very thin, vaguely pizza-shaped objects, which they then sprinkled with various goodies according to order. A third guy was wielding an oven spade like nobody's business, transporting the pizzas in and out of a huge stone oven standing in the corner. A fourth guy, a young Asian-looking kid served as the waiter, and he had to run around balancing things on trays, taking order and payments and generally working his ass off.
You could literally see every step of the pizza-making process. There was a lot of noise, mostly from the conversation, which in typical Italian style was conducted at upwards of 100 decibels. Customers and friends (I assume) of the establishment were dropping by all the time and the general spirits were high.
I also managed to catch a glimpse of the earlier stages of the process, as through an open back door I spotted an old woman making a fresh batch of tomato sauce - dumping various ingredients into a huge bucket and churning it around - all the while smoking like a chimney. Fortunately I'd already eaten most of my pizza and I can't say it tasted like ashes...
I doubt if a single part of the whole operation, from sauce making to cooking would have been approved by the health board here in Norway, but by Jove, the pizza was excellent!
A Neapolitan pizza - I don't know if this was a tourist thing or if their pizzas generally have more stuff on them than in other parts of Italy. They're wafer thin, so I had no problems consuming a whole one.
The hand that stirs the sauce...
The oven in which the pizzas were cooked.
Quote of the Day
Government is not reason, it is not eloquence, it is force; like fire, a troublesome servant and a fearful master. Never for a moment should it be left to irresponsible action.
- George Washington
- George Washington
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Quote of the Day
History does not record anywhere or at any time a religion that has any rational basis. Religion is a crutch for people not strong enough to stand up to the unknown without help. But, like dandruff, most people do have a religion and spend time and money on it and seem to derive considerable pleasure from fiddling with it.
- Robert A. Heinlein
- Robert A. Heinlein
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Quote of the Day
Respect for the freedom of someone else constitutes the highest duty of men. The only virtue is to love this freedom and serve it. This is the basis of all morality, and there is no other basis.
- Mikhail Bakunin
- Mikhail Bakunin
Friday, December 31, 2010
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Quote of the Day
People love to admit they have bad handwriting or that they can't do math. And they will readily admit to being awkward: 'I'm such a klutz!' But they will never admit to having a poor sense of humor or being a bad driver.
- George Carlin
- George Carlin
Monday, December 27, 2010
Quote of the Day
Television is the first truly democratic culture - the first culture available to everybody and entirely governed by what the people want. The most terrifying thing is what people do want.
- Clive Barnes
- Clive Barnes
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Quote of the Day
I don't believe in an afterlife, so I don't have to spend my whole life fearing hell, or fearing heaven even more. For whatever the tortures of hell, I think the boredom of heaven would be even worse.
- Isaac Asimov
- Isaac Asimov
Friday, December 24, 2010
Naples part II: How I almost died
No, dear reader, the title is not just fluff and exaggeration. I came closer to an early and untimely demise last night than ever before. Allow me to explain. The Lufthansa flight took off from Munich as scheduled, and was uneventful until we approached Naples. About 30 minutes out from Naples airport the plane went through some heavy turbulence but as we soon resumed smooth flying, I wasn't too worried. I am, after all, nothing if not a man of the world and I like to think I have seen my share of disturbances in the air. Don't sweat the petty stuff and don't pet the sweaty stuff is what I say.
However when we came even closer to Naples, things really started to heat up, metaphorically speaking. The plane really started to shake and rattle, and it soon felt like I was on a rollercoaster, not in an airplane. We were flying through thick fog so I saw fuck all to orientate myself, which probably added to the increasing panic I was feeling.
After what felt like an eternity of this terror the plane picked up speed and started to gain height again. I noticed we seemed to be turning around and soon got a sneaking suspicion. Were we going to land in Rome instead? Were they keeping us, so to speak, in the dark in order to minimize the complaning? Possibly. Anyway, after quite a while the captain came on the air and hesitantly explained that the weather in Naples was so awful he wasn't going to try to land us there and that we had, indeed already started our landing procedure in Rome.
It was probably a good thing that we were still in the air, because a howl arose from all the greaseballs on the plane. Cries of "impossibile" and "incredibile" and the likes could be heard all around. Personally I thanked the powers that be that the plane was flown by Germans, who could be trusted to put the lives of their passengers ahead of any need to be home with Mama for a hearty dinner of meatballs and spaghetti. If we had flown Alitalia or some such airline I have no doubt the pilots would have gone in on a wing and a prayer at the risk of smashing us all against Vesuvius like a glass of spicy tomato sauce, if you pardon the mental image. As it was we landed smoothly and safe in Rome an hour late.
Things started to deteriorate rapidly once we got to Rome. First of all, as soon as the plane started to slow down, the Italians exploded into the midway, opening overhead compartments and taking out clothes, bags, little children and whatever else they had stowed away up there - long before the plane had "come to a complete halt and the captain had switched off the fasten seatbelt sign". They kept standing in the aisle for one hour straight, talking loudly on their cell phones and effectively blocking out the messages the captain was trying to convey over the loudspeakers.
Also, as soon as the plane landed we were under Italian "jurisdiction", and what I laughingly refer to as Italian organizing began. First we spent almost an hour waiting in the plane, on the tarmac. Then we were taken to the terminal, where about half of us got our luggage and the rest had to wait for two fuckin' hours before the greaseballs got their collective asses in gear. It never occurred to them that half a load of luggage wasn't going to do anyone any good, since we were all ultimately going to the same place and had to wait till the last person got his last measly bag of dirty underwear.
The scenery in the arrival hall was a classic study of different cultures. Being Norwegian, I was naturally stoic about things. I grumbled and smouldered, but heaven forbid I actually DID anything, such as complaining to an official. There was a Canadian couple who also seemed to take things in good spirit - joking and grumbling but mostly joking. There were a couple of yanks on the plane and they were talking loudly about how someone should call the local media and create some pressure on the authorities to get SOMETHING done. This would probably work in a civilized nation, such as the US of A, but not in Italy. The Krauts were talking quietly and orderly to the plane's crew and, like yours truly, seemed to take it all in stride. Most of the Italians were running around like headless chicken (probably a step up on the intellectual scale) and waving their arms and hands at each other while talking on their cell phones.
Finally, around thirty minutes after midnight we were told to "follow the lady in blue" and soon we were led out of the building and on to two waiting buses. It still took almost 45 mins before we were on our way. It was well after 4 am when we arrived at the airport in Naples. I grabbed my luggage and rapidly negotiated my way to the nearest taxi. I arrived at my hotel at appx 4:45 am - dirty, sweaty, hungry and thirsty - but alive!
However when we came even closer to Naples, things really started to heat up, metaphorically speaking. The plane really started to shake and rattle, and it soon felt like I was on a rollercoaster, not in an airplane. We were flying through thick fog so I saw fuck all to orientate myself, which probably added to the increasing panic I was feeling.
After what felt like an eternity of this terror the plane picked up speed and started to gain height again. I noticed we seemed to be turning around and soon got a sneaking suspicion. Were we going to land in Rome instead? Were they keeping us, so to speak, in the dark in order to minimize the complaning? Possibly. Anyway, after quite a while the captain came on the air and hesitantly explained that the weather in Naples was so awful he wasn't going to try to land us there and that we had, indeed already started our landing procedure in Rome.
It was probably a good thing that we were still in the air, because a howl arose from all the greaseballs on the plane. Cries of "impossibile" and "incredibile" and the likes could be heard all around. Personally I thanked the powers that be that the plane was flown by Germans, who could be trusted to put the lives of their passengers ahead of any need to be home with Mama for a hearty dinner of meatballs and spaghetti. If we had flown Alitalia or some such airline I have no doubt the pilots would have gone in on a wing and a prayer at the risk of smashing us all against Vesuvius like a glass of spicy tomato sauce, if you pardon the mental image. As it was we landed smoothly and safe in Rome an hour late.
Things started to deteriorate rapidly once we got to Rome. First of all, as soon as the plane started to slow down, the Italians exploded into the midway, opening overhead compartments and taking out clothes, bags, little children and whatever else they had stowed away up there - long before the plane had "come to a complete halt and the captain had switched off the fasten seatbelt sign". They kept standing in the aisle for one hour straight, talking loudly on their cell phones and effectively blocking out the messages the captain was trying to convey over the loudspeakers.
Also, as soon as the plane landed we were under Italian "jurisdiction", and what I laughingly refer to as Italian organizing began. First we spent almost an hour waiting in the plane, on the tarmac. Then we were taken to the terminal, where about half of us got our luggage and the rest had to wait for two fuckin' hours before the greaseballs got their collective asses in gear. It never occurred to them that half a load of luggage wasn't going to do anyone any good, since we were all ultimately going to the same place and had to wait till the last person got his last measly bag of dirty underwear.
The scenery in the arrival hall was a classic study of different cultures. Being Norwegian, I was naturally stoic about things. I grumbled and smouldered, but heaven forbid I actually DID anything, such as complaining to an official. There was a Canadian couple who also seemed to take things in good spirit - joking and grumbling but mostly joking. There were a couple of yanks on the plane and they were talking loudly about how someone should call the local media and create some pressure on the authorities to get SOMETHING done. This would probably work in a civilized nation, such as the US of A, but not in Italy. The Krauts were talking quietly and orderly to the plane's crew and, like yours truly, seemed to take it all in stride. Most of the Italians were running around like headless chicken (probably a step up on the intellectual scale) and waving their arms and hands at each other while talking on their cell phones.
Finally, around thirty minutes after midnight we were told to "follow the lady in blue" and soon we were led out of the building and on to two waiting buses. It still took almost 45 mins before we were on our way. It was well after 4 am when we arrived at the airport in Naples. I grabbed my luggage and rapidly negotiated my way to the nearest taxi. I arrived at my hotel at appx 4:45 am - dirty, sweaty, hungry and thirsty - but alive!
Naples part I: Germany
I got to my stopover airport in Munich alright yesterday. There was a short but extremely slow line at the transfer check in, since Lufthansa had seen fit to man just one of the numerous counters there. (My bag was checked through in Oslo, but my person was not...)
I had over nine hours to kill, so feeling brave I took the advice of the good people at Lonely Planet's Forum and went to Freising, a smallish town outside Munich. I didn't have much in the way of expectations except to waste some time in a slightly more cozy locale than the airport.
Well, I was mighty surprised by Freising. The city itself is quite clean, it's as if the buildings are all scrubbed regularly (this being Bavaria, nothing would surprise me). There are multicolored bears on every corner and even some used instead of reindeer as replacement in a Christmas tableau. The (saddled) bear is the city symbol, after a legend that a bear once killed the packhorse of bishop Arbeo, whereupon he saddled it and commanded it to carry his bishopy stuff over the Alps. Yeah right.
Bavaria is the richest part, not only of Germany but also of the whole fuckin' European Union, and Freising must be one of the most prosperous parts of Bavaria. The city touts the lowest unemployment figures in Germany and like I said, its buildings are so clean they GLEAM in the sun. Everything about it just exudes prosperity, but not in the usual brash and brazen manner of Germans. It's a quiet, pleasant prosperity, and a kind of small-town peace of mind that soon gets to you when you walk the streets of Freising.
The inhabitants, in a most un-German fashion, are very friendly. Some actually smiled at me even though I wasn't in the process of forking over vast amounts of money to them. Most strange, and almost creepy, considering my previous encounters with Krauts. The proprietor at a local Indian eatery spoke good English and even gave me a bowl of steaming hot tomato soup free of charge, before feeding me some very strong and tasty chicken tikka masala. Afterwards I perused the modest collections of the city museum and just walked and walked and gawped at the city. Pure bliss!
All Freising pictures here.
Gleaming, I tell you:
A memorial to the dead of WWII. Yes, THAT war.
On the other hand, there was this touching memorial to a Jewish family who had lived in town. These small brass plates are set in the pavement outside where they lived.
This was either a tacky tableau with a bear as Santa and another bear as reindeer... or bears are more kinky than I thought.
Buildings in many colors. I quite liked it.
One of many nice buildings along the little stream that runs through town.
A sight that warms the heart. Just like in Norway, if you find a glove or something on the street, you take it up and put it somewhere visible, so if someone comes back to look for it, it is easily found. In Oslo, in winter you can see whole fences decorated with gloves and mittens.
I had over nine hours to kill, so feeling brave I took the advice of the good people at Lonely Planet's Forum and went to Freising, a smallish town outside Munich. I didn't have much in the way of expectations except to waste some time in a slightly more cozy locale than the airport.
Well, I was mighty surprised by Freising. The city itself is quite clean, it's as if the buildings are all scrubbed regularly (this being Bavaria, nothing would surprise me). There are multicolored bears on every corner and even some used instead of reindeer as replacement in a Christmas tableau. The (saddled) bear is the city symbol, after a legend that a bear once killed the packhorse of bishop Arbeo, whereupon he saddled it and commanded it to carry his bishopy stuff over the Alps. Yeah right.
Bavaria is the richest part, not only of Germany but also of the whole fuckin' European Union, and Freising must be one of the most prosperous parts of Bavaria. The city touts the lowest unemployment figures in Germany and like I said, its buildings are so clean they GLEAM in the sun. Everything about it just exudes prosperity, but not in the usual brash and brazen manner of Germans. It's a quiet, pleasant prosperity, and a kind of small-town peace of mind that soon gets to you when you walk the streets of Freising.
The inhabitants, in a most un-German fashion, are very friendly. Some actually smiled at me even though I wasn't in the process of forking over vast amounts of money to them. Most strange, and almost creepy, considering my previous encounters with Krauts. The proprietor at a local Indian eatery spoke good English and even gave me a bowl of steaming hot tomato soup free of charge, before feeding me some very strong and tasty chicken tikka masala. Afterwards I perused the modest collections of the city museum and just walked and walked and gawped at the city. Pure bliss!
All Freising pictures here.
Gleaming, I tell you:
A memorial to the dead of WWII. Yes, THAT war.
On the other hand, there was this touching memorial to a Jewish family who had lived in town. These small brass plates are set in the pavement outside where they lived.
This was either a tacky tableau with a bear as Santa and another bear as reindeer... or bears are more kinky than I thought.
Buildings in many colors. I quite liked it.
One of many nice buildings along the little stream that runs through town.
A sight that warms the heart. Just like in Norway, if you find a glove or something on the street, you take it up and put it somewhere visible, so if someone comes back to look for it, it is easily found. In Oslo, in winter you can see whole fences decorated with gloves and mittens.
Quote of the Day
Whatever a man prays for, he prays for a miracle. Every prayer reduces itself to this: "Great God, grant that twice two be not four".
- Ivan Turgenev
- Ivan Turgenev
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Quote of the Day
A consultant is someone who takes your watch away to tell you what time it is.
- Ed Finkelstein
- Ed Finkelstein
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