This is the man I'm going to marry...

Oh, yeah, this is the nifty completely frozen mushroom we found in the Narnia landscape:

 Spooky frozen goodness:

The way to Narnia...

 

The way to Narnia... winds down Highway 96, along the Klamath River in Northern California. 

It curls up and into the mountains through tunnels of madrone, cedar, and fir. 

We caught our glimpse of the frozen forest at Thanksgiving this year, traveling to Dustin's childhood home and family homestead in the Siskiyou Mountains, where the water (delicious yummy pure water!) finds its way from the heights of a mountain spring to the cabin faucets via a mile or so of plastic pipes. 

When the mercury dips below freezing and water sprays from a leaking pipe, one would almost think that the White Witch had paid a visit...

  

Barcelona, Spain... last winter

Sending a shout out to Miss Ball with this shot of Park Guell. A beautiful yet crispy cold December day saw Dustin and me scurrying around Barcelona for the sights. Thank you, Gaudi, for such wonderful architecture!

Remembered Rosé

A last little lunch at La Decoratrice with miss Rachel Farnam of Le Talon Bas.

Remembered glimpses, or, Reasons I Love Airports

A collection of scenes from my travels between Sete, France and Rome, Italy last February:

Narbonne, France: The train caboose -two men opened the train door facing the tracks, ignoring the one you're supposed to use. They jumped down, hopping onto the opposite platform to leave the tracks. A mystery of motivation, running the gamut from simple meaningless defiance to eluding justice. A tempting scene.

Girona, Spain: A four-year-old fairy decked out in purple tutu and boots with clashing puffy pink jacket dangles between two loving arms.

Girona Airport: Someone just did a handstand in the airport; now his girlfriend and he are taking turns standing and walking on their hands. All this preceded by a soft, under-her-breath ditty, "Ba-da-da-da-da.." Now they practice dance dips and swings.

Still the airport: Another four-year-old, this one kicks around a blue soccer ball with her dad. Or she crawls the airport floor chasing it, finding endless sources of amusement in this beige stone and glass structure.

Also, a cute couple sits in long serious discussion at the coffee shop, sharing stories and plans. Nothing out of the ordinary except for her well-made lion suit and painted face.

The tiny soccer player has abandoned the ball and drifted instead to dream land, drawing shapes only she can see in the air. Or, no, she's playing make-believe. She's building something at one cafe table which she then transports to another station in a very specific spot about three-feet above the ground between my backpack and the stool she's leaning on.  It's a complete loss of self, imagination has taken over and time exists no more.
... No more until her adults notice her singing and swaying; they must now become her audience. The self returns and attention must be paid!

I love the richness of airports, especially the personalized world everyone brings with them. People are very basic; they brush their teeth, eat, play with or yell at their children... all without seeming to notice the rest of the crowd around them. I think it's a way we guard our privacy: simply pretending that we have some.

Final images from Graz, Austria

                    

This harpist filled a small yet busy pedestrian street with sweet reverberations. 

 Pleasing reflections and a little sunburst accented these Gothic style windows.

Kunsthaus, Graz, Austria

A few views of the Kunsthaus Graz (the Graz Art Museum). Clicking on the photo above should take you to the Wikipedia article about the structure.
Directly across the river from the picture at the bottom, you can wander into the Cafe Schwalbennest (Swallow's Nest) and order some of the most unusual hot chocolates (I will update with the brand as soon as I get home and find the wrapper!)
A fellow language assistant, herself from Graz, had recommended this cafe to me when she found out I'd be visiting her hometown. She very sweetly gave me a map and marked it's location along with other landmarks.
When my fiance, friend, and I arrived in Graz to see my old French host sister, the first place she wanted to take us was... Schwalbennest! She started describing a cafe known for it's cakes and chocolate, and I startled her when I asked if it was the same. So, if you ever make it to Graz, try the apfelstrudel.

Graz, Austria Bicycle Festival...

     Wandering around Graz on that sunny day in the middle of April, we came across a bicycle festival. This interactive contraption attracted a pretty good crowd. A few children would take turns trying to throw a beach ball into the fountain, and the lucky kid on the bike would keep it in the air as long as possible.












This kid had it going on!

Graffiti in Graz, Austria

          Welcome to Graz, Austria. For obvious reasons, this city struck a high note with me -just look at the graffiti! I found this piece on a busy cobblestone street in between two main plazas in downtown Graz. What English-speaking person decided to claim it/proclaim it, I pondered as I snapped a few angles. Whomever it was; I applaud their choice of wall.

    Can anyone help me decipher this symbol? The stencil was particularly small; she's maybe about six inches tall at the most. According to trusty wikipedia, the "CE" on her belt buckle is a conformity mark used to certify the safety standards of any product sold in the European Union. The halo of stars echoes the EU flag, and she has a Euro currency symbol stamped on her forehead. She's obviously for sale, evidenced by the barcode on her chest. But what about the bull? Is it a symbol of Spain? And if so... why did I find it on a wall in the southern Austrian city of Graz? Intriguing, whatever the case.

     Walking up the Schloßberg, Graz's central hill and the site of an ancient demolished fortress, you can find these delightful tags. Seeing this Gnu right after an excursion to a Nepalese restaurant in Vienna had me wondering about the seemingly incongruous Nepal/Austria connection: what linked the two countries? I must admit that, even surrounded by  the mountains ringing Graz, it didn't strike me until I googled it. Austrian mountaineers have a long history of trekking in the Himalayas. 
     And as for Laurel and Hardy? I guess they're just international. 

Tulips in Slovakia... or The Happily Missed Portrait

     We spent the first night of spring break in Bratislava, Slovakia.
     I know, I know... "Who goes to Slovakia?" you're asking. Our thoughts exactly. The answer involves the somewhat random destinations of cheap European airlines. Suffice it to say that, however we ended up in the Czech Republic's former suffix, we liked it.
     The golden moment of our 36 hours in Slovakia took place somewhere between a castle and the capitol. We'd just left Devin Castle under a light rain to bus back to Bratislava where we'd board another bus bound for Vienna, Austria.
     A mixture of locals and camera-encumbered tourists steamed up the windows as we rolled past cow pastures and views of the Danube. An elderly man flagged down the bus. He entered, fisherman's cap on his head, slightly bent, all tan-grey tweeds and wrinkles. Two things set him apart. Some two dozen tulips -red, purple, yellow, white- filled his arms, and a sincere grin covered his face.
     He sat across the aisle from me, and my fingers itched to whip out my camera. I couldn't remember how to ask "Can I take your picture?" in Slovakian. Had I written it down? Ever even looked it up? As I debated with myself over the niceties and etiquette of photographing people without their permission -something I've never been comfortable with, a woman approached the man.
     In accented and stilted English, the tourist asked for the tulip man's permission to take his picture. Her simple smile, accompanied by camera and pointing, did the trick. The passengers, all of us equally delighted, watched as he happily thrust the tulips in front of him, effectively blocking his face.
Sympathizing with my fellow photographer, I had to chuckle. She wanted his smile; the tulips, though essential, were just an excuse. After more gestures, many smiles, bows, and "Thank you"s, she got her shot and returned to her seat.
     I watched the old man. You could tell the incident had tickled as him pink as one of the tulips. A moment and several glances later, he got up and offered the woman some tulips. She turned red and gushed more thank yous. After a beat, the man returned with flowers for her friend as well.
     I could have envied her photos, but for the mood on the bus. This whole group of strangers, speakers of many tongues, each with her own errand, shared a collective smile. We watched the gentleman leave the bus, wondering to where and for whom the tulips were destined.
     I imagined him chuckling as he explained the reason for the missing flowers to his beloved... and after a moment, I took a page from the other tourist's book and asked her, "Can I take your picture?"

What can I say? I'm stuck on Venice...

More Venice, less tourists...

 While perusing some of the finer fashion in a particularly busy quarter of the Floating City, a procession of some 50 persons, wavin' flags and a-carryin' signs, distracted us from the haute couture.
Literature printed in Italian and English, obtained from the gentleman on the right, identified them as the commitee "FOR INDEPENDENCE" and declared April 24th "INDEPENDENCE DAY FOR VENETIA."
     Their map showed the proposed state's borders. "Venetia" would encompass the northeastern corner of Italy and wrap around the Adriatic sea, taking a nice chunk of the Istrian peninsula of Croatia as well as the only sliver of coast belonging to Slovenia. They expressed solidarity with other nations seeking independence such as Scotland and Catalonia and cited successful seceding nations such as Slovenia and Ireland.
     Rather jovial police officers followed the calm demonstrators, laughing and joking with one another. I wondered if any of them wished they were marching.
     We saw the beautiful Venentian flag hanging out of many windows that day. However, when I googled the committee, I didn't find any information on the movement. They did admit that this was the first time they had succeeded in securing their "most important goal: to organize a rally for independence in Venice, our capital city."
     Part of me wonders if this is a real movement or a pageant produced to amuse the masses. In any case, I doubt we'll be seeing Venetian secession any time soon.
  

A "few" shots of Venice...

Upon arriving in the city with one 2G card already full, I planned to just erase an older photo here and there and only capture the really good moments in Venice.

...Insert snorting laugh here.

After wandering for one hour, one eye on the hallways and shadows, on the canals and gondoliers and the other eye desperately searching for a photography store, I purchased an outrageously priced 2G card.
By the evening, I'd shot up a whole gig.
Because Venice, that smelly tourist-trap of a wierd city... is a photographer's paradise when the sun is out.  I think of these scenes as  "typical" Venice shots. I'll post some less typical images tomorrow.

Plitvice Lakes, Croatia Two

Plitvice Lakes, Croatia

An amazing collection o f travertine lakes in Eastern Croatia, Plitvice Lakes floats among my favorite  UNESCO sites we visited on our Eastern Europe trip.

Positano, Italy

You find Positano on the Amalfi Coast in Italy... described by the Lonely Planet as the most picturesque town in Italy... True. Dustin and I had only a short afternoon to enjoy this gem, but it definitely made the "go back to someday" list. It's been a favorite of artists and writers for a long time: 

One last view before we caught our bus and lumbered around the twisting road lining the coast, back to our English oasis of a B&B (The Secret Garden Relais) in Sorrento.

Paestum, Italy

Paestum -the scent of Campania's bufala lends this ancient Greek colony in Italy an earthy air, connecting the 6th century BC ruins with a very current economy. The local mozzerella di bufala cheese is nothing like what you eat on your average pizza in the States... if cheese were fruit, then mozzerella di bufala would be the mango. That's the only way I can think to describe it.  

Dustin and I visited Paestum towards the end of our Italy trip, spending the night with a couchsurfing friend in Salerno. This is the Temple of Hera. Artifacts found on the Paestum site are today shown in the nearby museum... I'll sprinkle in some photos of those soon.  

Rome at Sunset

My favorite spot in Rome...

On our first day in Rome, Dustin and I took a walk near the Tiber River. After crossing the Ponte Sant' Angelo, parts of which were constructed by Hadrian in 126 AD, we stood studying the mythic muddy water. He asked a very sweet question... to which I gave a very sweet reply... Later I made him pose here, where he had proposed. <3

Ischia, Italy

The remnants of a fabulous meal shared on the island of Ischia. We sat down, and a little old Italian grandma came and gave one choice -what we wanted to drink. After that she simply brought us large steaming bowls of delicious lentil minestrone followed by a plate of freshly marinated and grilled sardines. We were a bit worried that she wouldn't stop feeding us, but she followed the fish with some simple but delicious melon. Mmmmmm!

Another picture on Ischia...