Thanksgiving with Gaudi

The most visited tourist site in Barcelona is the unfinished cathedral designed by Antoni Gaudi, the Sagrada Familia. We visited it, of course, the day we arrived by “Ave” high speed train from Madrid, but that's another story. Note to architecture fans – the hyperlinks in this article amplify the story greatly, take a look.

We set out on foot on a pleasantly cool, sunny Thanksgiving morning from the lovely Hotel Constanza at Calle Bruc, 33 where we stayed the three days we were in Barcelona. Fortified with Cafe Solo (aka the best expresso you will ever taste) we strolled slowly up Passeig de Gracia through the heart of the Eixample district. This is one of the major avenues in the city. To my eye it seems a more beautiful, cleaner, classier version of NYC's 5^th Avenue. It is lined with plane trees, ornate benches and art nouveau street lights. At this time of the morning the street was busy with extremely well-dressed pedestrians on the way to work. The sidewalks are even paved with beautiful art nouveau tiles.

In short order we came to the so-called “Block of Discord.” This entire district is filled with beautiful late 19^th Century architecture, but this block is special because it includes two famous modernista buildings, Casa Amatller and Casa Lleo Morera. It's called the block of discord because of the way the modernista buildings contrast with their more sober neighbors and with Gaudi's wilder, tile-covered Casa Batllo. Casa Batlló is a complete redesign of an existing 1877 building done by Gaudi and his collaborators in 1904 – 1906. The local name for the building is Casa dels ossos (House of Bones), as the facade has a something of a skeletal, organic quality with a dragon scale roof.

We stopped for a while to admire the beauty of the place. We decided to walk a bit further up the avenue and tour Gaudi's Casa Mila, then return to tour Casa Batllo.

Casa Milà, better known as La Pedrera (meaning the 'The Quarry'), was designed and built by Gaudi between 1905 and 1910 for a wealthy family who lived on the ground floor and rented out large apartments on the upper floors. The facade and roof are famous for the undulating, organic look. The complementary wrought iron balconies and windows were designed by Josep Maria Jujol, who also created the interior plaster ceilings.

Architecturally, La Pedrera is considered an innovative work for its early use of structural steel and its self-supporting curtain walls. Other innovative elements were the construction of underground car parking and separate lifts and stairs for the owners and their servants. The building is currently owned and operated by Catalunya Caixa, a private educational foundation. The building tour starts with the incredible roof, moves down to an interesting Gaudi museum in the arched attic, then finishes in a restored apartment with its original art nouveau interior and furnishings. We were there for hours.

Outside again in the now warm mid-day sun, we paused across the street so Merry could take a couple of photographs of the facade. A well-dressed woman approached us.

“Es beautiful, si, no?”

We struck up a conversation with her in Spanglish. She enquired whether we had toured Casa Batllo yet. When she found out that was where we were headed, she was adamant that we should not pay to tour the building. We understood her to say that the tour was less interesting than at Casa Mila. Further she insisted we could get a very good view of the back of the building with its intricate tiles, totally for free.

“For, free?”

“Si. Just turn right down the street right before the building, go into the big magazine, and … “

Wait a minute, magazine?  After thinking about it and being sure she couldn't think of any other word, I realized she was saying “magasin” – French for store. OK, so we turn down a side street, go into a store take the escalator to the second floor, remembering that in Europe the ground floor is floor 0, then wander through the aisles to the back, open a door and … well, we would have to see for ourselves.

We were a bit doubtful, but what the heck. We thanked the nice woman, and headed down the street. A department store existed. We found the right floor, then a fire door leading out onto a low roof. We looked around, no one was watching. Merry, always the brave one, pushed the door open, No alarm. Whew.

The roof outside is set up as the employees' smoking area with chairs and vending machines. The view of Casa Botlla is wonderful. Judge for yourself.

Fighting Fascism at the Museo Reina Sofia

By accident we approached the museum from the rear entrance between the 2005 glass and steel additions and the 18^th Century Sabatini building. As a result we found ourselves in a soaring courtyard with a giant whimsical sculpture in the center. We went immediately to the open plaza on the top floor and looked over the city of Madrid. We loved it. The Reina Sofia already had our hearts.

Above all the other art that can be seen in Madrid, I wanted to see Picasso's Guernica. I had seen it sometime in the early 1970s at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City. Picasso gave MOMA the painting for safe keeping in 1938. When I saw it, I was somewhat underwhelmed. It seemed poorly displayed, out of place and did not create the intense impact I expected.

Picasso painted Guernica in 1937 for the Spanish Pavilion of the World's Fair in Paris. At that time the Spanish Civil War was raging. The Spanish monarchy was dissolved in 1932 and an elected republican government established. The 1936 election swept a left-wing coalition, called the Popular Front, into power. Right-wing Nationalist forces attempted a failed coup d'etat in July 1936.

Led by General Francisco Franco, the Nationalist forces didn't give up. Open civil war broke out. The Spanish Civil War immediately became the symbol of the struggle between authoritarianism and progressive democracy. The war lasted until Franco's victory in April 1939, leaving up to half a million dead, many of them civilians. Franco obtained military support from Fascist Italy and Fascist Germany. The Popular Front received aide from the Soviet Union and France as well as many volunteer International Brigades.

During those times a life or death struggle raged throughout Europe between those who believed the state should be used to redistribute wealth and those who believed the state should defend the status quo. Giant Russia executed its monarchs, rejected its traditional ruling class and transformed into the Communist Soviet Union. Vested economic interests in the rest of Europe were more than a little concerned by this development. In the countries that had suffered the most from World War I, a new political force emerged that promised to solve the threat to stability posed by the communists and at the same time provide a modern social welfare state, Fascism.

In Germany and Italy Fascism proved quite popular and swept into power. Hitler and Mussolini quickly built massive military machines they justified by constantly referring to the threat of communism. In republican Spain, the Civil War became the focus of this battle for the soul of Europe.

On April 26, 1937 Franco arranged an air attack on a small Basque town to be carried out by his German and Italian allies. That town, Guernica, had no military significance. The Basques generally opposed Franco, and he wanted to show them how ruthless he could be. Carpet bombing totally destroyed the town and killed 1000 or more civilians. The era of total war had begun.

At the time of the bombing Picasso had already made plans for a different painting for the World's Fair. When he realized the enormity of what had happened in his country, he decided to take Guernica as his subject. Picasso said of the painting, “I clearly express my abhorrence of the military caste which has sunk Spain in an ocean of pain and death.” With Franco's victory, Picasso vowed never to set foot in his native Spain as long as Franco ruled.

After the Paris Exposition, Picasso arranged for Guernica to be held by the Museum of Modern Art but specified that it be returned to Spain should a democratic republic ever be established. The painting was finally returned to Spain in 1981 and hung at the Prado. In 1992 it was moved to its current home at the Museo Reina Sofia where it hangs in a special gallery. Adjourning galleries show about two dozen preparatory works and a series of photographs showing the mural as it was being painted.

We slowly wandered through the Reina Sofia taking in the astounding collection of 20^th Century Spanish art. Gradually the galleries filled with groups of school children. This museum has perhaps the finest collection of surrealism anywhere in the world, so the kids were quite well amused. Each class of about 25 kids were accompanied by a teacher who worked hard to keep them informed about what they were seeing and moving along.

Finally, we reached the painting I had come all this way to see again. The room is very large and dimly lit. The mural hangs alone on one whole wall. My first thought was how stark, how simply powerful it looked. Then to my initial dismay, a whole class of 8-year-olds filed into the gallery, briefly obstructing my view. Their teacher organized them on the floor about six feet from the painting. They quickly sat and quieted down.

For the next fifteen minutes their young teacher quietly spoke with the kids, gesturing occasionally at the painting. He spoke so softly I couldn't really hear him. The kids paid absolute attention. The gallery had become a side chapel in some great cathedral. The kids were in total awe.

Although I couldn't understand him, I knew the teacher was explaining the history of the Spanish Civil War, of Franco's authoritarian regime and of Fascism.

A hidden scar in the Spanish psyche was left by the decades of Franco's authoritarian rule. By now the elected government has done its best to remove all official recognition of Franco. Most government buildings and streets named for him have resumed their original names. The last statue of Franco in Spain was torn down in 2008.

Those who suffered under Franco live on, but do not recover. They hide the scar, but it will be with them for the rest of their lives. The only hope for the future is those kids on the floor in the Reina Sofia. I felt privileged to be present as they learned to live as free people.

Pickpockets

Merry and I arrived at the Madrid airport extremely bleary after a flight delay of four hours. We left home the day before at 9 am. Now it was noon the next day. Accounting for the time difference, we had been on the move almost non-stop for 21 hours with little sleep.

To get into the city from the airport we decided to ride the Metro. This involved a long walk through the airport, then two transfers between subway lines. We packed light but there were stairs and long hallways everywhere. At the end of the last transfer, a stranger appeared out of nowhere and tried to help me carry my suitcase down a short flight of a stairs. I managed to get him to let go just as a train pulled in. We hopped on at the last minute and found ourselves in a crush of passengers. When we got off at our station Mer discovered her backpack had been opened. A handbag bought for the trip but fortunately empty was stollen and her earring bag was missing.

We oriented ourselves and trudged to our hotel a bit shaken. Exhausted but safe we felt lucky to have carried all our money, credit cards and passports in our money belts. We reported the incident to the hotel desk, but they simply assured us we were lucky not to have lost more. We had planned to ride the Metro frequently in Madrid, but this episode made us change our minds.

A few days later we were walking in Barcelona in a nice neighborhood near the Sagrada Famillia. Suddenly we both realized our backs were wet. My pants and Mer's jacket were splattered all over with coffee. A guy rushed up to us with a handful of napkins and started to clean off the mess. He tried very hard to get us to go into his apartment where he claimed he would help us more. We both were aware enough to realize this was a scam. We pulled away. An older gentleman walked up and stopped to see what was happening. The first guy quickly disappeared. We walked around for the next few hours in spotted clothes that smelled strongly of coffee and creamora.

The desk clerk at our hotel told us this happens all the time. It turns out that throwing coffee, catsup or yogurt on clothes is a common scam. He suggested our best defense would have been to have thanked the guy for wanting to help and asked to take his picture.

We knew before making this trip that pickpockets and sneak thieves are common in Spain's large cities. We lost very little, but the psychological impact lasted throughout the trip. We always carried our valuables in money belts. We avoided crowds when possible and were always on guard. We had no further trouble. Everyone we met told us stories of their personal experiences with pickpockets, many of which were far worse than ours.

As I see it, the problem with the tactics used by sneak thieves is the reliance on the natural willingness people have to trust helpful strangers. When someone offers to help, my natural impulse is to be moved and thankful. This moment of relaxation is all a pickpocket needs to steal your wallet. As a consequence, in areas where pickpockets operate, a traveler needs to train themselves not to trust people who appear to be trying to be helpful. Is that seemingly nice guy who just offered to take your picture going to steal the camera?

I like to think I'm not naïve. I know there is a lot of poverty in the world. When I travel I know a certain portion of the people I encounter see me as nothing but an opportunity to make easy money. Nonetheless, pickpockets violate a trust that people ought to be able to count on no matter where they are in the world. Without that trust, travel is less enriching and more stressful. When we guard ourselves from open contact with the people in the country we visit, we miss the best part of the trip.

In the next few blog entries, I will share the stories of how we broke out of this distrust of strangers and found real adventure in Spain. Stay tuned.

Cotton mill robots

Over the course of his 15 years working for Hanesbrands at their Parkdale cotton mill the claimant I was questioning had done virtually every job in the factory that a guy with only a high school education could get: laborer, machine operator and finally machine mechanic.

“Except for the front end, Judge, you know where they gin the raw cotton.”

“Why didn't you ever work the gin end?”

“It's just too dirty, you know, dust, seeds and sticks, cotton fiber everywhere.”

I had already established that he and his wife moved up to Central New York from eastern Georgia so they could get help from his wife's family while they figured out what to do next. His wife was working as a home health aide, not making much, but they were scraping by. His back gave out on him at age 45 from a combination of bad genes and hard physical labor.

“So how much would you have to lift when you were a machine tender, back when you first worked at Hanes?”

“Well you see, the cotton would be run through the first machines then wound onto a roll that would get taken off to the next set of machines. Those rolls probably weigh about 100 pounds each.”

“Would you have to lift one of those rolls yourself?”

“Sort of, we would slide them out of the machine then heft them onto a cart, so yeah, I had to lift them a bit.”

“OK, how often did you do this?”

“All day, over and over. You might not know it, Judge, but we worked 12 hour shifts at that mill, three days on, then one off, then two on, one off, then three again. About once a month we got a straight week off but the next week we had to work seven days straight, then back to the same schedule all over again.”

“Was it seasonal work? Did you work more hours during the cotton harvest?”

“No, that was the schedule year-round. The company has a big warehouse full of cotton modules, so there was always work. It is the third largest yarn factory in the world. It can put out 1.5 million pounds of cotton yarn every 12 hour shift.”

[In case you don't know about cotton modules, you can take a look at a post I wrote about how cotton modules are made a few years back. You can find that article here.]

“I see, so what job did you do next?”

“I ran a bunch of carding machines for a few years, then ran the spinning machines.”

“Were those machine operator jobs as hard?”

“No, that was pretty easy work, actually. There wasn't any lifting to speak of. You just have to watch the machines to be sure they don't jam up or anything. If that happens then you turn off the machine, climb in and try to unjam it. If the operator can't clear the jam, you call a mechanic.”

“OK, so what was the hardest part of your machine operator jobs?”

“I'd say cleaning the machines after the shift. You would have to climb all over them dragging an air hose to blow off all the cotton lint and dust. So there was a real lot of climbing.”

“Was dragging that air hose heavy?”

“No, not unless one of those stupid robots ran over the hose.”

“Excuse me sir, did you say robots?”

“Yeah, see Fruit of the Loom got them first. They found out pretty quick that they didn't work all that well, so they got rid of them by selling them to Hanes. Let me tell you Judge, those robots are really stupid.”

“Sir, excuse me, but even though it doesn't have much to do with your case, would you mind telling me a bit more about the robots?”

“Sure, see they use them now to do the heavy lifting of the fiber rolls and move the rolls around the plant. They are sort of like big boxes on wheels. They run around the mill following magnetic tape on the floor. They've got some sensors to keep them from running into anything or anybody, but the two on the side point out, and the two in the front point in. That leaves two big blind spots. Believe me, they run into things. I heard a woman got caught between two that where running in opposite directions. They broke three of her ribs.”

 “So these robots would run around the mill and sometimes your air hose would get caught under them, is that right?”

“Yeah, when that happened and I would pull on the hose, it felt like I was hauling on 1000 pounds. Not only that, but they would go off the tape and run into the machines or the walls. Some of the guys figured that all the fiber on the floor was messing them up. If fact someone discovered that they would follow a polyester ribbon just as well as the magnetic tape. One day at the end of the shift, somehow all the robots ended up in the ladies room.”

I resumed the hearing as soon as we all stopped laughing.

My surprise

“Don't plan anything for Saturday morning, I've got a surprise for you.”

The rest of the week Merry taunted me, challenging me to guess. The only clues she would give were that we were going to nearby Tully, NY, I was to wear hiking clothes and my water shoes. I was totally mystified.

So on Saturday morning I put on my hiking clothes and got in the car. After a stop for coffee we heading up into the hills west of Tully on a back road. The mystery did not get any clearer until we finally turned into a driveway marked Woodmansee Llamas.

Now I got it. About a month ago I did quite a bit of research on llamas and other camilids for a short story I was writing. We even went to the Burnet Park zoo to see their small herd of guanaco, the presumed wild ancestor of the llama. Then last Tuesday we strolled through the small animal barn at the NY State Fair and spent some time with the llamas on display there. In retrospect I remember Merry remarking that she wondered what it would be like to get to know llamas a bit better.

John and Dawn Bishop own Woodmansee Farms. The farm is situated on a very steep hillside. It's mostly second-growth woods. They have three small barns, one for storage, one for the “boys” and one for the “girls.” As I approached the nearest split rail fence, about half a dozen “girls” trotted over to check me out. Llamas are an odd mixture of skitter and curiosity. Did I have food? No? Then let's run away. But maybe he does have food. Let's check him out again. And so on. A llama face tells you instantly it's a friendly beast.

The next barn houses the seven male trekking llamas. John was in with the animals, getting them harnessed up. The halter is just a simple set a straps around the nose and back of the head with a ring under the chin where a lead rope can be clipped. As he worked he explained how they had gotten interested in llamas. He brought out Zeus, their largest male, about 400 pounds. John told us a good trekking llama can easily carry a third of its weight. Llamas are human-scale. The back of a llama comes about to the waist of an adult human. The long neck means their head sits just about as far from the ground as mine does. Llamas look out at the world from roughly the same vantage point we humans have, but they have bigger eyes and ears.

When we were all gathered, Dawn brought two animals out to fit them with packs. The frame looks a bit like a small horse saddle. Once that is cinched tightly, cloth saddlebags are hung from each side – in this case carrying snacks. Dawn introduced me to Morrie, a white llama with a brown back now covered by saddlebags. Merry got an all-brown llama with the other packs. Once everyone had their own llama, we were off.

Walking with a llama is pretty easy and quite peaceful. They are generally compliant. The biggest challenge is that they see the trail as a llama salad bar. They eat a surprising variety of plants: raspberry and blackberry leaves, almost all tree leaves, any grass, most ferns, and most flowers (wisely avoiding joe-pye weed and goldenrod). A gentle tug was all it took to get them to move on. They walk steadily and carefully. Their feet have soft pads on the bottom with two sharp toenails that serve as protection. They barely leave tracks, even in wet ground. I was surprised to find out that they don't like to get their feet muddy.

After walking down hill for about half a mile we came to the upper reaches of Onondaga Creek. At the top of beautiful Bishop's Falls we stopped for a snack: alfalfa for the llamas, apples, pastries and Gatorade for the people. While we relaxed, we got to hear the llamas “hum,” a fairly quiet noise. Dawn convinced Morrie to show us his teeth. Llama have a triangular row of chisel-like lower teeth in the front of their mouth but no upper teeth. They grasp and cut off plants with their front teeth then slowly grind them between the plates of their gums. We repacked the saddlebags, took a last look at the falls, crossed the creek a couple of times, then slowly worked our way back up the hill to the farm.

Outside the barn we unloaded the packs, then turned the animals out to pasture. They walked away and started grazing without looking back.

Just before we left, Dawn wanted to show us how a llama will take grain from your hand. She gave Merry and me each a handful of llama chow and we headed to the fence. The females came over and inspected us. The bravest one came up to my outstretched palm. Using her lips as a soft spatula the grain quickly disappeared. Two other females came up to Merry and before anyone could react, one snapped her head back and tried to spit on her rival. Mer was in the line of fire and was accidently hit on the arm. We watched from a safe distance as they did it again, putting their heads back and wetly snorting.

All in all it was a fun outing. Not what I'd exactly call a trek, but a very pleasant walk in the woods with an interesting animal companion. For more on the Woodmansee llamas, check out this article from Life in the Finger Lakes, which is where Merry first discovered them.

Joli is gone

Our sweet dog, Joli, departed her long and happy life this morning.

She was our constant companion these last 14 years. She was a pure-bred Border Collie, born in eastern Pennsylvania. Her mother was owned by the sister of a close friend. When we first saw her at six weeks old she was running with the pack of her brothers and sisters and was called “Tulip.” We knew she was the one: sweet, independent and full of life.

She came to live with us in the spring of 1997. She was happy to be with us where ever we lived, first in Oneida, then Syracuse, then St. Louis and finally back to Syracuse again. She loved to travel and was never a problem in any of the many motels, B&Bs and campgrounds she visited. She loved people, especially little kids. She was easy to teach and became a champ at dog agility. She had a good effect on the other dogs she met, kind, inquisitive but never pushy. After overcoming an early fear of water, she loved to swim. She was a perfect canoe dog, traveling many miles in our boats without complaint. At Rap-Shaw, our camp in the Adirondacks, she insisted of spending as much time at the beach as possible.

 I took her for two walks a day, one at 4 am and one at 4 pm, every day, without fail in all weather. That adds up to over 10,000 interesting walks in the last 14 years. She would never be seen without a stick in her mouth.

Yesterday at about 2 am Joli had some kind of an event. We think it was a stroke. After a while we were able to get her to settle down, but she was much reduced. Her hearing was effected and she was left with a neurological problem that made her constantly dizzy. After a thorough physical, the vet told us there was a chance she would recover. We decided to give her a chance. She had become dangerously dehydrated so they gave her a quart of solution under the skin. They told us to give her a motion sickness drug, and feed her bland food. We brought her home, and she slept comfortably most of the day. She happily ate her hamburger mixed with rice. We went for a little walk in the evening and lay in the grass with her for awhile. We had hopes she was recovering.

Early this morning, it happened again. This time she could not stand and had a hard time recognizing us. We knew it was time. We took her to the emergency vet to have her euthanized.

The loss we feel is profound.

Ireland 2011

Ireland May - June 2011 organized by Champlain College, Dublin


Here's an internet enhanced review of our recent trip to Ireland. I haven't included pictures here because Merry has posted a very nice selection on her blog that can be found at http://merryatsyracuse.blogspot.com/. Be sure to check that out. It includes some awesome shots.

DAY 1—FRIDAY MAY 27 – Travel from Syracuse to Dublin
We began our journey by taking Century taxi to airport at noon; cheaper and easier than long-term airport parking. Left Syracuse at 2:44 pm on Jet Blue, arrived 3:57 pm at NYC Kennedy. Spent quite a bit of time trying to find International terminal due to the complete absence of any directional signs. Finally figured out how to ride the AirTrain to the right location. Along the way we had good views of the still amazing Saarinen TWA terminal. Through security again, then had dinner at Tigin, a chain Irish restaurant where I had my first pint of Guinness of the trip. We were seated facing a TV inexplicably tuned to cage boxing, so we left right after eating. Sat around quite awhile and finally left JFK a bit after 9:50 pm on Aer Lingus, stalled almost an hour on runway waiting for take-off. It was a typical red-eye flight on which we got very little sleep and finally arrived at Dublin at 9:50 am local time (about a six hour flight plus a five hour time change).


DAY 2—SATURDAY MAY 28 - Dublin

We were bleary eyed when we cleared immigration and customs and finally made our way out of the Arrivals Hall in the very modern Dublin airport. We were met by Dr. Stephen Robinson, Director of Champlain College, Dublin. We also met up with Paddi Hurley who was on our flight and her sister, Meghan, who arrived earlier. Rounding out our group was Leslie Carew, temporarily the victim of lost luggage. Stephen shepherded us all onto a taxi and we were off to the Augustine Apartments in central Dublin. There was a mix-up and our room was not ready, so we dropped our bags and stumbled up the hill to the early medieval St. Audoen's Church and gardens, then ate a nice late lunch at nearby Noto Cafe before returning to move into our apartment. After checking out our digs, we rendezvoused with the whole group and followed Stephen on a brisk walk through the Temple Bar district to Trinity College, where we were given a short college tour by a grad student in full undergraduate costume, gown and tweeds, then saw the Book of Kells and the Old Library. After the tour, Mer & I walked around the grounds of the Dublin Castle. The weather was quite brisk so we revived with a perfect pint of Guinness at The Stag's Head before we met for a group dinner at Odessa. We were quite worn out when we fell into bed that night.

DAY 3—SUNDAY MAY 29 – Boyne Valley
The group boarded our coach and headed to the historic Boyne Valley, about 40 km north of the Dublin. Our guide for the day was Dr. Kelli Maoileoin, an archeologist and faculty member of Champlain College, Dublin. Our first stop was Loughcrew, a megalithic passage tomb dating back to about 3,000 B.C. We arrived a bit too early, so we went into the nearby village of Oldcastle for coffee at Caffrey's Bar on the square, then picked up the key to the tomb (it's locked to prevent vandalism). The misty day cleared but the wind picked up as we made our way to the top of an open steep hill to a number of tombs. Kelli gave a talk at a ruined tomb then took small groups on tours of the intact main tomb. Lunch was a sort of backyard barbeque at Loughcrew Gardens with a walk through the grounds and garden afterwards. Back on the coach we heard the first of many cultural enrichment stories from our terrific coach driver, Kieran O'Brien of Tony Doyle Coaches. Kelli then gave us a guided walking tour the Hill of Tara, a sacred site for ancient Irish religion and home to medieval Irish kings. Kelli's ability to get us to imagine early Irish history was truly impressive. Back in Dublin we scattered for dinner. Merry & I had good Italian food complete with live music at Toscana right across from the Castle on Dame St., then an early night to catch up on lost sleep.


DAY 4—MONDAY MAY 30 – Dublin

After a continental breakfast delivered to our apartments, the group started the day with a walking tour of historic Dublin guided by local expert Pat Liddy. The tour included a Medieval city gate and a Viking site as well as a walk through beautiful City Hall and Dublin Castle. Mer & I grabbed a cup of coffee then wandered through Merrion Square (1752) where we saw the wonderful Oscar Wilde statue across the street from where he once lived. Then we headed to the Champlain College, Dublin Academic Centre for sandwiches and a lecture on the political history of the Republic of Ireland by Dr. Anthony O’Halloran, a faculty member. We walked through St. Stephen's Green (1663) on the way to our guided tour of Dáil Éireann (Irish Parliament). Evening dinner and entertainment was at the Irish House Party, a traditional Irish music and dancing show. Really a fun day.

DAY 5—TUESDAY MAY 31 – Westport, County Mayo

A trip to Ireland would not be complete without visiting the West Coast area, the home of traditional music, the Gaeltacht (Irish-speaking) areas, and gorgeous scenery. We headed out of Dublin by coach with Kieran at the wheel. Stephen gave a running commentary on the sights (focusing on geology and especially peat), and Kieran told stories. We stopped for “carvery” lunch at the Abbey Hotel in Roscommon. The scenery became more and more beautiful as we entered County Mayo heading for our overnight stop in Westport. Westport is a little tourist town filled with the classic brightly-coloured pubs, cafes and shops. We wandered through town and warmed up with a cup of hot chocolate before returning to our very nice lodgings at the Castlecourt Hotel. We ate a simple group dinner in the hotel restaurant. After dinner Merry went for a walk along a converted railroad bed then stopped into the hotel pub where a country and western band was entertaining a group composed mostly of seniors on holiday break. Many of our fellow tourists headed into town to the pubs. We hit the sack early to try to finally overcome our jet lag.

DAY 6—WEDNESDAY JUNE 1 - Westport to Galway

We had a full cooked Irish breakfast in the hotel complete with eggs, sausages, Irish bacon, white and black pudding, brown bread and jam. Whew! Mer took the sensible route with Irish oatmeal. We boarded the coach and stopped at the foot of Croagh Patrick, the traditional Irish Catholic mountain pilgrimage site. A strong wind was blowing off the ocean as we visited the monument to the victims of the Great Famine (1845 - 1852), seen here as a key event in the Irish history of emigration. Unfortunately, the mountain was in the clouds, but the wild scenery was wonderful. We then drove through the increasingly amazing scenery of Connemara with its steep mountains, small villages and fiord. It was late morning when we arrived at the amazing Kylemore Abbey. The steep slopes all around here were literally carpeted in blooming pink azaleas. Mer and I headed straIght to the partly-restored Victorian Walled garden – a real highlight of the trip for us - then toured the castle, but skipped the Abbey itself. Lunch was good soup and a sad sandwich at the gift shop - restaurant. Then it was back on the coach continuing south. Suddenly we turned off the main road and took a very narrow road hemmed in by stone walls into the mountains. Sheep wandered in the road and we stopped for a group photo in the rugged country. A bit further on we stopped at the Joyce Country Sheepdog Demonstration. This was the very best border collie demonstration possible. Joe Joyce is the real thing. He is great with both his beautiful dogs and his sheep. He described his use of collies in sheep farming, demonstrated three styles of herding plus hand sheared one of his blackface sheep. We didn't want to leave but had to get to our overnight stop, the Galway Western Hotel. When we asked for a recommendation for oriental food, the desk clerk directed us to the Asian Tea House. It was an excellent choice and a nice break from meat & potatoes. We walked around to the river and downtown of the City but were definitely under-whelmed.

DAY 7—THURSDAY JUNE 2 – The Burren, Cliffs of Moher and Doolin

Another full Irish breakfast gave us the energy for the day's tour of the Burren, a starkly beautiful limestone plateau with an extensive megalithic history. Our first stop of the day was Corcomroe Abbey, an early 13^th Century church now an interesting ruin. Then as we climbed onto the Burren itself we paused at a “Fairy Fort.” These are actually ancient earth-bermed fortified farmsteads, but are the source of long-standing local superstition. Then up onto the hilltop pavement barrens where we stopped at Poulnabrone Dolmen, a neolithic portal tomb and then at Caherconnel Stone Fort, an early medieval fortified village. We had a late lunch at Vaughan’s Pub in Kilfenora where I tried the traditional bacon and cabbage dinner washed down with Cidona, a popular apple soft drink. Vaughn's is famous, sort of, because it was featured in an episode of “Father Ted,” the famous Irish TV send-up of rural priests. While in Kilfenora we checked out some important high crosses at the village church then headed on to the world famous Cliffs of Moher. It was a beautiful sunny afternoon and the cliffs were quite dramatic, and chock full of pelagic birds. After we checked in at the Hotel Doolin Mer & I wandered down the road to McGann's Pub that we believe is still owned by a relative of Mike St. Leger, a lawyer from Central NY we have known for a long time. We asked the barman if we could speak to Mr. McGann and were told he no longer operated the pub but that we could stop by his house in town. We sat at the comfortable old pub instead and relaxed in the late afternoon. A little later the group gathered across the road for dinner at McDermott’s Pub. Most of our group stayed on after dinner to hear the music, but we headed back to the hotel. Doolin is known far and wide as the home of traditional Irish music.

DAY 8—FRIDAY JUNE 3 – back to Dublin

We both woke up early, so we went out walking down to the shore in the misty/sunny morning. The tide was in so the waves crashed high against the cliffs and over the harbor breakwater. After another Irish breakfast in the hotel, we boarded the bus for the trip back to Dublin. Back past the cliffs, we were amazed by the legendary Lahinch Golf course then stopped awhile at Lahinch beach to watch the surfers. Two of our intrepid members changed into swim gear to take a short dip on the east side of the Atlantic. We departed the west coast via the Limerick - Dublin motorway. About halfway back we detoured to stop at Moneygall, where President Obama claims remote ancestry. The main street was ranked by alternating American and Irish flags. All the houses were freshly painted thanks to a major Irish paint manufacturer. We poked our heads into the Hayes Pub where Obama had a pint only a week earlier. The locals only seemed slightly annoyed to be interrupted by American tourists. Then it was on to another carvery lunch break at Racket Hall Country House in nearby Roscrea. We were quite weary but happy when we finally arrived back at the Augustine Apartments and moved in again. Some of our group hurried to catch the last tour of either the Guinness Brewery or Kilmainham Gaol. We wanted to see a bit more of Dublin and the afternoon was sunny and warm so we opted to catch the open top Dublin Bus Tour. We stopped at the Garden of Remembrance, where Queen Elizabeth had so famously laid a wreath only two weeks earlier to mark the end of British opposition to the existence of the Irish Republic. After circling the city we hopped off where we got on, crossed the River Liffey for a light dinner at O'Shea's Pub near the apartments.

DAY 9—SATURDAY JUNE 4 - Belfast

After a continental breakfast at the apartments we boarded the bus again for the two hour drive to Belfast, Northern Ireland. We were dropped off and the group boarded Black Taxis for a remarkable tour of the divided city. Each taxi driver is a tour guide. We stopped at murals in both Protestant and Catholic neighborhoods. The messages are chilling. As we drive the streets of the neighborhoods the taxi men told us what it was like to drive in Belfast during the Troubles from 1969 to the recent past. The highlight of the tour were the two stops on both sides of the West Belfast Peace Wall. It may be impossible to really understand contemporary Ireland without doing this tour. The taxis dropped us off back in downtown Belfast where we had lunch in the “snugs” at the incredible fully restored Victorian Crown Bar. We had time to ponder what we had seen on the return trip to Dublin. That evening we had a final group dinner and evening outing at Salamanca Tapas Bar. Sharing Tapas seemed like a fine and friendly way to end the trip. We took group photos on the steps of the City Hall across the street then returned to the apartments to pack for home.

DAY 10—SUNDAY JUNE 5 – Travel back from Dublin to Syracuse

Kieran picked us up for one last ride at 7:30 am. He took us on a quick tour of the Dublin Docklands before taking the new tunnel out of the city to the airport. We saw our trip mates slowly disperse as we made our way through the endless queues: first to check in with Aer Lingus, then through security, then through US customs and immigration (yes you do that in Ireland, not when you get back to the States), then security again (shoes off this time). The whole check-in process took a full two hours. We left on Aer Lingus at 11:25 am after waiting for a bunch of people held up at check-in. Despite the delay taking off, we arrived at NYC Kennedy on schedule at 1:15 pm. We said goodbye to Paddi, on the same flight with us again, at the gate. We ate a unimpressive hamburger in the terminal then waited for our Jet Blue 4:59 pm flight. We arrived in Syracuse at 6:10 pm and took a cab home. Joli, our dog, was overjoyed to see us, as we were her. We went right to bed and dreamed of this wonderful trip.

Reclining on the High Line

We were in New York City just for Friday last week. Our object was to attend two events related to the 100^th anniversary of the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire (see post of 03/20/11 for details). Almost all our time in the City was taken up with these events, but we had a couple of free hours on Friday afternoon. The day was clear and cold. At Merry's suggestion we decided to take a walk on the High Line. http://www.thehighline.org/about/park-information

The High Line is a city park like no other. It sits on an abandoned elevated freight line. Its design includes traits of sculpture, contemporary architecture, urban archeology, gardening, people watching and sightseeing.


For almost a hundred years, from 1847 until 1934, freight train lines ran down the center of Tenth Avenue to serve the factories and meat-packing industry on Manhattan's west side. The street level railroad was the source of numerous collisions and many fatalities. Finally during the 1930s the High Line was built, lifting freight traffic 30 feet into the air. Numerous sidings made it possible to run freight cars directly into the upper floors of the factory buildings. This system worked well for a time, but as trucking increased, rail traffic faded. The southern-most section of the High Line was demolished as it went out of use. The last train carrying a load of turkeys used the High Line in 1980.

The elevated track system sat abandoned for the next 20 years. Some property owners lobbied to have it demolished. An effort to restart rail traffic failed. In typical New York fashion, people from the neighborhood figured out ways to access the structure and began to use it as a private walkway. The structure was slated for demolition in 1999 when two neighborhood activists, Joshua David and Robert Hammond, formed “Friends of the High Line” to lobby to save the structure as open space.


The City gave it's support in 2002. CSX donated the structure south of 30th Street to Gansevoort Street in 2005. Construction on the park began in 2006. The first section, from just outside the West Village to West 20th Street, opened in June 2009. The second section, from West 20th Street to West 30th Street, is scheduled to open later this spring.

The experience of walking on the High Line is unique. It's a platform for viewing the city. It's a sculpture in itself. It incorporates extensive gardens and innovative art installations. It has numerous well-designed public spaces, like the wooden recliners on railroad wheels that were so attractive to me on the cold early spring day we visited.

If you have an hour or so and want to take a walk in NYC, try the High Line. You'll be glad you did.

Triangle

This coming Friday, March 25, 2011, is the 100^th anniversary of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire. At noon Friday, Merry and I will be standing on Greene Street in front of the original factory building just off Washington Square in New York City as the names of the 146 people who died in the fire are read. It's a moving ceremony. A ladder truck from the NYFD is positioned with its ladder extended just short of the upper floors where the fire occurred. In those days the height of the buildings had outstripped the available rescue equipment. A fire bell chimes after each name. The pile of memorial flowers on the sidewalk, each bearing a victim's name, slowly grows.


We remember the Triangle Fire not just because it was a horrible and preventable disaster. For me the Fire marks the moment the tide turned in favor of real labor reform in this country. Just the year before the Fire, the Supreme Court of the United States struck down the original New York Workers' Compensation Law as unconstitutional because it forced businesses to buy insurance to provide health care and partial replacement wages for workers injured at work. Employers didn't want to reduce their enormous profits even a little, and the Court agreed. Sound familiar?

The Triangle Fire broke out on a fine early spring Saturday. Many New Yorkers were out for an afternoon walk in Greenwich Village. As a result many witnesses saw the desperate young women throw themselves from windows ten stories high to die on the pavement rather than be consumed by the flames. Escape routes were limited. The single fire escape malfunctioned. Some made it to the roof and jumped to an adjourning building. Some got down the stairs, but some stairwells were locked by the owners to supposedly prevent the workers from stealing materials.


One of those eye witnesses was a woman named Frances Perkins, then a sociology professor at Adelphi. After the fire Perkins literally devoted the rest of her life to labor reform. New York soon passed a new Workers' Compensation Law and in 1918 Perkins was appointed to the NY Industrial Commission, the agency charged with finding a way to operate the new Workers' Compensation system. In 1926 she was appointed its chair by the new governor, Franklin D. Roosevelt. In this role she moved New York to the forefront of labor reform, expanding factory safety investigations, lowering the work week to 48 hours, introducing the minimum wage and arguing for the institution of unemployment insurance.


When FDR became president he appointed Perkins his Secretary of Labor, making her the first woman to ever hold a cabinet position. Perhaps her greatest achievement was serving as chair of the Committee on Economic Security whose final report resulted in the Social Security Act of 1935.

To be sure, these accomplishments were made possible by the growth of the labor movement and their unceasing demands for better working conditions. No one disputes that the labor movement received a boost immediately after the fire. Something of the spirit of that age can be caught in remembering how a leader of the International Ladies Garment Workers' Union, Rose Schneiderman, addressed a crowd of 3500 leading citizens who attended a memorial service for the Triangle workers held at the Metropolitan Opera House:

I can't talk fellowship to you who are gathered here. Too much blood has been spilled. I know from my experience it is up to the working people to save themselves. The only way they can save themselves is by a strong working-class movement.

Despite what some would have you believe, that working-class movement goes on today. The ILGWU now calls itself Unite Here! It's one of the prime sponsors of Friday's memorial. If you are in NYC, I urge you to attend. For more information about the NYC events check out http://rememberthetrianglefire.org/


If you are not able to be in NYC, the above link also provides some information on commemorations across the country. In Syracuse there will be a reading of the names at 4:45 pm at the UAW 624 Union Hall at 714 W. Manlius St. in East Syracuse (near the Wegman's on James Street).


Friday evening Merry and I will be at the NYC Fire Museum to support the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire Memorial scholarship program that provides small stipends for college students whose families have been affected by a workplace injury. http://www.trianglememorial.org/ I'm proud to have been involved in helping start this group ten years ago. It does good work.


I'm sure labor reform would have eventually come to New York and America had the Triangle Fire not occurred. But it did happen. People were moved and mobilized. Our country is stronger today because they were moved to demand real economic justice. That work continues.