Weekly recap

It's been an odd day, waiting for Hurricane Sandy to really really really hit us. Sandy is sort of here already, but so far it's just rather heavy rain and wind -- and waiting, and listening to newscasters warn us all of impending doom. My workplace is closed today and tomorrow, so I spent the day working from home, which is nice.

I may or may not have storm photos later, but for now I'll just catch up on what has been happening over the past week.

Neil and I saw Verdi's Requiem at the Kimmel Center last Sunday.

The scheduled soprano was out due to allergies, so there was a substitute, Angela Meade, who was fantastic. At the end of the concert the conductor knelt before her on one knee while the audience went wild with cheers.

After the concert, we headed to our old haunt, the Perch Pub, for food and drink (and thanks to a gift card from a thoughtful friend in Illinois!).

Isn't that drink pretty? It's the Saint Nick of Port Richmond, described in the drinks menu behind the glass.

Our bartender/server was very nice. He asked us, after we had exchanged just a few words, "Where are you from?" I replied, "Willow Grove," and he followed up with, "But you didn't grow up there, did you?"

"No, we both grew up in the midwest, in the Chicago area."

"I could tell by the way you pronounce your vowels."

This surprised me, since I don't detect any accent when I speak. It turns out he is a recent graduate of acting school, and had studied American dialects. He's currently working in a small indie production. You can see him reflected in the bar mirror below.

So that was the weekend. Last week we had wonderful fall weather, just beautiful. As always, I appreciate the gardening and landscaping in the city.

As well as the skies and the breeze.

My morning walks with Mr. Bean begin in darkness this time of year.

Last Tuesday I took a group of physicians out to dinner after work. On my way to the restaurant, I walked through Macy's, where the enormous organ (largest working organ in the world, I believe) was being played.

And the shoes and boots were impressive.

And the mannequins were exhausted.

We ate at Varalli, which is located directly underneath the Perch Pub, and is owned by the same people.

Great food, great conversation.

The days leading up to the Big Storm were gorgeous. Bean enjoyed the leaf piles.

And we both admired the neighbors' ingenuity in constructing Halloween decorations as we ambled round the 'hood.

So that was my week. Busy today moving stuff from the lower level (which could flood) to a higher level of the house, and watching and waiting . . . .

Enchant the land with amethyst

Photo from La Pouyette

October

Robert Frost

O hushed October morning mild,

Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;

To-morrow's wind, if it be wild,

Should waste them all.

The crows above the forest call;
To-morrow they may form and go.
O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow,

Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know;
Release one leaf at break of day;

At noon release another leaf;
One from our trees, one far away;
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.

Slow, slow!
For the grapes' sake, if they were all,
Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost -
For the grapes' sake along the wall.

I was led to this poem by a friend who posted it on Facebook, and very glad I am that she did.

Today was such a perfect October day. I was fortunate enough to be working from home today, and able to take three long walks with Bean (morning, noon, and evening), not averse to having my heart beguiled by the lovely weather.

Two evenings in the capital

Soooooo . . . .  we had a couple of days in Washington DC. A LivingSocial deal (and I might mention here that I have enjoyed everything I ever purchased through LivingSocial.)

Arrived on Thursday, checked in, and then hurriedly figured out how to use the Metro, the lovely Metro, to get to our destination.

We had made reservations with Bike the Sites for a tour of the monuments at night. We got our reflective vests, helmets, and bikes.

Out tour group of about twenty included families with young children. Daylight was fading by the time we had biked over to the National Mall.

Our first stop was the Jefferson Memorial, which looks fabulous at night. I'm sure it looks fine in the daytime, too, although plenty of people told me that it's better at night.

The next stop was the FDR Memorial, which features lots of waterfalls.

And there were plenty of professional or semi-professional photographers busy taking photos in the dark.

And several sculptures showing people during the Depression, such as this man listening to FDR on the radio.

Then to the Martin Luther King Jr Memorial.

Out of the mountain of despair, a stone of hope.

Next, the Korean War Memorial, a field of sculptured soldiers marching through the night like ghosts, and a wall behind them in which the faces of the dead have been etched. These are taken from photographs of the people who died in the war. The effect is uncanny.

And then to the most famous, the Lincoln Memorial.

From the Lincoln Memorial you have a clear view of the Washington Memorial, and its reflection.

Then to the Vietnam Memorial, which, of course, features a wall of names rather than a wall of faces.

Even in the dark it is quite moving, particularly as one goes deeper and deeper into the ground, and the names rise up higher than one's head. All that loss.

Next we rode over to the World War II Memorial, which is enormous. I have only a photo of the fountain in the middle, and this doesn't give a very good idea of how huge this monument is.

We ended up at the Washington Memorial, which has been closed to visitors since the earthquake damaged it.

I loved this tour. Never would have seen all these monuments on foot, but it was easy and fun on a bike.

Back to the Normandy Hotel, and our comfy bed. In the morning, a feast for breakfast! I had a bagel with lox and cream cheese.

There was a very impressive coffee machine, which made lattes and espressos and cappuchinos on demand.

And wonderful fresh fruit - even blackberries! Yum. The breakfasts were part of the package deal.

We ate plenty, which turned out to be a good thing in view of our afternoon plans. We managed to get to Alexandria (this time we took a taxi, and met an Ethiopian taxi driver who is a huge fan of Reagan and Bush, and of America in general), where we picked up a couple of bikes and a map of the Mount Vernon Trail.

It wasn't all trees and water. One of the more interesting parts of the trail is the park that lies directly under a highway. In addition to picnic tables and playground equipment, there are acres of space for biking and skating.

The Mount Vernon Trail is much more hilly than anything we were accustomed to, and it was a bit of a challenge to bike the nine miles to Mount Vernon. Once we arrived, though, we fortified ourselves for the return trip with lunch. I had the Virginia peanut and chestnut soup.

And salmon corncakes.

And we did manage to make the return trip to Alexandria - our longest bike ride to date! That evening, we met friends for dinner, at Kramerbooks and Afterwords - a combination bookstore, cafe, bar, and restaurant. When we last saw these friends they were planning their wedding. When we met them in Washington DC, they were planning their daughter's wedding. Time flies, but sometimes in a very nice way.

Saturday morning we had another fine breakfast and drove back to Pennsylvania.

I really like these little mini-vacations. A long one would be even better, but these are just fine.

Rambutan

My son brought some home to try. (I'm very happy that he is an adventurous cook.)

It's okay. I wouldn't go out of my way to find some, but perhaps there are recipes that use this ingredient well.

Of course, you wouldn't want to eat it unpeeled.

If we didn't collect anything, how would we remember who we were?

Just finished reading The Hare with Amber Eyes, by Edmund de Waal.

Enjoyed it thoroughly. I agree with the reviews on the back cover, such as "To be handed a story as durable and exquisitely crafted as this is a rare pleasure"; "Mr. de Waal's nostalgia is tart, tactile, marvelously nuanced."

I don't quite agree with the advice from the reviewer in The Economist: "Buy two copies of this book; keep one and give the other to your closest bookish friend." It's fine advice if you have lots of money to spend, but noting the great pleasure I received from this book is the closest I can come to "giving" it to friends.

The book did inspire me to make a trip to the Philadelphia Museum of Art, in search of netsuke, the tiny Japanese wood and ivory carvings that inspired de Waal to write this memoir. I also wanted to look at ceramics (de Waal is Professor of Ceramics at the University of Westminster, and writes with feeling and intelligence about the mystery of why we find some objects beautiful).

But first, breakfast at Beck's Cajun Cafe, located in Reading Terminal Market.

I chose red beans and rice with andouille sausage, a fried egg on top, and two big chunks of cornbread - the Cajun breakfast bowl. Excellent fuel for a day of walking around museums.

Then I hopped on a bus for the museum, and went in search of netsuke. I did not find any. (Later, though, I did find an image of a netsuke rabbit on the web.)

(This image is misleading, since netsuke are tiny, no more than three inches high. All that detail in a tiny, tiny space.)

And I saw lots of other interesting things. Suspicious saints.

Chinese snuff boxes.

The face of Bhairava.

A 17th-century monkey with an earring.

And a 17th-century dog with two earrings.

And in the sculpture garden, a giant Claes Oldenburg plug. (Items related to electricity are very popular in Philadelphia public art.)

Then I took a shuttle to the Perelman Building across the street, which houses a textile and fashion museum, among other exhibits.

The current exhibit is Great Coats - the museum owns lots and lots of couture, and they periodically exhibit various pieces. How about this stunner?

You can read about it here:

The museum gift shop featured some fascinating and horribly expensive pieces of apparel, including these cool boots:

All in all, a good time wandering around looking at collections of stuff.

I'll end with a selection from one of the amazon reviewers of The Hare with Amber Eyes:


What are objects to us? Do they change when we hold them, display them, give them value? Do they "retain the pulse of their makeup?" If we didn't collect anything, how would we remember who we were?


Collecting photos and memories is a way of figuring out who we are, I think.