Yesterday we went on a hike along the Pemiwagasset River, and today we went on a scenic drive to northern New Hampshire. The pictures are of the incredible fall foliage, and we have it on the authority of two natives we ran into today that this isn't even 'peak'. We had lunch on top of a mountain today with a firetower on top of it. We walked up 5 flights of stairs, and we got a birdseye view of the White Mountains. The pictures are so amazing. We just drove along a few rural roads, and almost every mile was a panorama of color. As Drake said today, "It's like looking at fireworks!" I've seen trees in colors that are so bright and vivid that they look fake.
I didn't expect the peace and rural nature of the White Mountains to affect me so strongly. II've always takedn some pride in being the original 'concrete queen'. It's so hilarious that in some ways, I've enjoyed this visit more than I did New York. There's a peace and contentment up here that is difficult to convey in words. The first thing I do every morning is 'check the mountains' Some days it's clouds and rain. Other days brilliant sunshine, or like today, fog in the valley, and clear above. It's a wonderful way to start the day. I look forward to the sunset each day knowing that it isn't the result of pollution (like it was in Arizona). Ironically, we haven't made any friends here - I don't know why. Well, actually, I do. I've been feeling secluded here, and distant. I haven't wanted to make any connections. However, I guess I can't keep my true nature down. I have been making friends with two ladies - I'm helping them learn to use their new laptops. I won't embarrass them by telling their ages, but let's just say that they are 'mature'. I got two jars of jam in payment - blackberry and raspberry from berries they picked themselves - braving the bears.
We came here for the fall foliage, and so far, it hasn't disappointed. You be the judge:
https://picasaweb.google.com/jalyss1/2011NewHampshireAutumn?authkey=Gv1sRgCNPh3qbp4bqgowE#
Friday, September 23, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
The City of Montreal
We returned this week from a three day trip to the city of Montreal in Quebec, Canada. Montreal is only 150 miles from Franconia, so it seemed like the ideal time to see the city. Ironically, this is the first foreign city I ever visited. When I was 17, Mr. and Mrs. Pendley, the adult leaders of my MYF (Methodist Youth Fellowship for you heathens), took about 40 teenagers from Tulsa, Oklahoma to see World Exposition 1967 in Montreal, Canada - better known as Expo '67. Mrs. Pendley, who actually had a full time job - almost unheard of in that era, was the organizing genius behind this trip and managed to get this trip off the ground in a time prior to computers and cell phones. Off the ground is a little misleading: I took the longest bus ride of my life to get from Tulsa to Montreal. We had a pretty tight budget since we all came from families that were middle class at best. For instance, my Dad was an electrician, and there wasn't any discretionary money in our household for travel. In addition to doing the actual nuts and bolts of getting 40 teenagers and 10 chaperons from point A (Tulsa) to point B (Montreal), the Pendleys mounted what had to have been a year of weekends filled with fund raising so we could all afford to make the trip. It was so worth it. New York City and Washington D.C. the previous year (same MYF group) followed by Montreal, Canada just before the start of my senior year in high school made me understand there was a much wider world out there than could be found in Tulsa, Oklahoma.
Thirty seven years later, Montreal echoed with deju vu' for me. Montreal is a port city on the St. Lawrence River which empties out into the Atlantic. There are a pair of islands in the center of the river one of which was the site of Expo '67. (The island, incidentally, was built up from all the dirt and rock dug out to build the subway system in Montreal.) Countries from all over the world built pavilions to display their cultures and present their expositions. It was amazing and exciting. In those simpler times, we were just turned loose on the Exposition grounds and given check times and points. Then we were off again. High points for me: The monorail that circled the exposition. My first viewing of 'real art' - I saw The Pieta by Michelangelo - it was in the Italian pavilion. Exposure to different styles of architecture - I especially remember the Asian pavilions with their distinctive architectures. And, of course, the United States pavilion which was a clear geodesic dome!
Today, what's left is Habitat '67 - a series of interlocking concrete blocks which was supposed to be the housing of the future - now a condominium development, the French pavilion which is Casino Montreal, and off in the distance, we saw the clear geodesic dome of the USA pavilion. I never did find out what it's used for today.
Montreal was deja vu' in more ways than my sketchy memory of 37 years ago. It was New Orleans revisited. I think if New Orleans had retained its French language, it would be a dead ringer for Montreal. Oh, with the exception that Montreal is about 3000% cleaner than New Orleans. There's the similar French historical component, a similar founding time-line (late 1600's), a port economy, and a takeover of the city by English speaking entrepreneurs. The BIG difference is that the French language made a comeback in Montreal while it died out in New Orleans.
The language element has stamped a character on Montreal that is both charming and infuriating. Quebec is an island of French in a sea of English. Since the 1960's Quebecians have been militant about maintaining the French language inside the province. This is not a dual language city. ALL signs for EVERYTHING are in French, and if you're lucky, with tiny, little English translations underneath the French. An example of infuriating: We couldn't figure out how to buy a 3 day metro card (which you can only get from a machine) because there was no English option until you got to the third step of a four step process. Thank heaven there was a metro employee sitting on a stool next to the machine helping tourists like us. It kind of defeats the purpose of the machine, but we were grateful for his help. Also infuriating, was the tour guide on the bus tour we took: Her English was limited at best, and it really affected her ability to tell us about the city - the reason we went on the tour. We were grateful for the metro because we didn't have to drive anywhere. There was no English translation on any road sign which made driving a little too adventurous in a strange city.
Montreal is a city of churches - both Protestant and Catholic. I got the feeling that in the 18th and 19th centuries each faith put up as many elaborate churches as they could possibly build trying to 'one-up' the other culture. These magnificent churches stick up over the landscape of the city. The Basilica of Notre Dame built in the 1820's is exquisite and today is considered the number one attraction in the city. I would definitely agree. It only took eight years to build it, and the exterior is a miniature Notre Dame in gray limestone. The interior is made entirely of carved and decorated wood. They present the church in a great way: there is an evening multi-media presentation using lights and film to explain the architecture and the founding of Montreal as it relates to this Catholic Church. This is still a working church. There are lots of these churches, convents, and monasteries that are no longer functioning religious buildings and have been converted to private residences. The other 'big' church is called The Oratory, dedicated to St. Joseph. It has 192 steps leading up to it which the faithful on feast days sometimes climb on their knees. This was an impressive building.
Just as in New Orleans, there is an 'old city' (the "Vieux Carre" in New Orleans, called the "Vieux Montreal" up here.) There's a little 18th century French architecture left, and lots of 19th century Victorian architecture. The 'old city' is entirely made of gray limestone - a legal requirement in the 1800's for fire protection. This was the commercial heart of the city, and a destructive fire so common in the era of oil lamps and open fire places would have been much too costly. The Vieux Montreal buildings are uniformly cut limestone blocks cheek to jowl to no open spaces at all between buildings. The older French buildings are mortared rough limestone brick with small multi-paned windows set into the stone. I think I would have enjoyed the old city part of Montreal more is I hadn't lived in New Orleans for almost eight years. This area just seemed like a cleaner French Quarter.
What I did really enjoy was the Botanical Garden. That was the best part of the trip for me. This Garden easily compared with the famous Butchart Gardens in western Canada. While the Butchart is compact, the Montreal Gardens were huge. We didn't even manage to get through the half dozen greenhouses or walk any of the pathways that wind among the lawns and trees on the back half of the Gardens. I think the picture from the top of the Observation Tower which is a portion of the Olympic Parc shows how large the botanical gardens are:
All the open green space to the left of the stadium is HALF of the botanical garden. You can see why we couldn't see everything at the garden.
We purposely decided not to take in the Fine Arts Museum or the Contemporary Art Museum. Drake was lukewarm at best, and we had limited time. We both felt that these museums would have been a pale copy of the New York City museums. How do you top the Metropolitan or the MOMA? The museum we did visit was completely unique. The Archeology Museum was built over an actual archeological dig down into the old city of Montreal all the way down to 1350. This land was originally the site of a major Iroquis settlement. When the French arrived in the mid 1600s, the Iroquois were swifty displaced. No wonder the Iroquois fought on the English side in the French and Indian Wars of the mid 18th century.
This place was fascinating. I had never actually been to an archeology dig before. You descend into the basement, and we walked around the dig site where they used colored lights to highlight various 'finds' and identifed the lighted areas with color coordinated signs. Most interesting: Walking down Rue St. Paul to get to the museum and realizing after looking in at the models that this street's origin was the original Iroquis path along the river. I was also thrilled to see an actual cobblestone street laid down in the 18th century from ballast stones used in the ships that docked at the Montreal port. It was actually covered over by later building as was an entire river that was used as a sewage dump in the 18th century. Appropriately, this 'river', originally a small river flowing into the St. Lawrence is called the Lost River. This was a very good museum and gave me a real sense of the history of Montreal.
An added bonus was a short term exhibition about how wine making came to France. (The short version: Roman soldiers leaving the Roman Army in the 1st century were encouraged to take up land right where they were invalided out, marry local girls and cement the Roman Empire. Those Roman boys who settled in Gaul figured out a good way to make a living was to grow grapes and make wine just like back home in Italy. It wasn't long before they were dominating the wine trade.)
We had a couple of lovely French meals; not quite as many as we had hoped, but anything is better than cooking in my book, and we spent one evening in a jazz club. Another big impression of Montreal is how 'young' it is. There are at least three major universities inside the city, and the main part of Montreal just teems with young people in the 20 - 30 age group. There's shopping out the wazoo. In fact, I think the 'hip' shopping was probably on par with New York City. We went lots of places where we were easily the oldest people in sight. Our subway stop outside our hotel was the metro entry point to Sherbrooke University, so every time we rode the subway back to our hotel, we we were surrounded by hordes of college students.
The hotel we chose was great. It was very comfortable and it was literally across the street from the metro station. The more subways I ride, the more I'm envious of the cities that took the plunge and built them. The hotel was 'across the river', and we saved about $100 a night plus parking which was free at this hotel. It took us less than 15 minutes to reach the heart of Montreal, and we didn't have to drive into town. With the confusing French highway system that was a real benefit. Overall, I'm glad I went to Montreal, but after New York, it seemed to be such a small city. We didn't find nearly enough 'stuff' we wanted to do. It wasn't a matter of picking and choosing and having to forego, but rather choosing the few things we thought would be worth our time.
Here are the rest of the pictures:
https://picasaweb.google.com/jalyss1/2011MontrealTouringTheCity?authkey=Gv1sRgCNqM-JSA85TqwQE#
https://picasaweb.google.com/jalyss1/2011MontrrealVieuxMontreal?authkey=Gv1sRgCIXUwu31w4H_Ew#
Thirty seven years later, Montreal echoed with deju vu' for me. Montreal is a port city on the St. Lawrence River which empties out into the Atlantic. There are a pair of islands in the center of the river one of which was the site of Expo '67. (The island, incidentally, was built up from all the dirt and rock dug out to build the subway system in Montreal.) Countries from all over the world built pavilions to display their cultures and present their expositions. It was amazing and exciting. In those simpler times, we were just turned loose on the Exposition grounds and given check times and points. Then we were off again. High points for me: The monorail that circled the exposition. My first viewing of 'real art' - I saw The Pieta by Michelangelo - it was in the Italian pavilion. Exposure to different styles of architecture - I especially remember the Asian pavilions with their distinctive architectures. And, of course, the United States pavilion which was a clear geodesic dome!
Montreal was deja vu' in more ways than my sketchy memory of 37 years ago. It was New Orleans revisited. I think if New Orleans had retained its French language, it would be a dead ringer for Montreal. Oh, with the exception that Montreal is about 3000% cleaner than New Orleans. There's the similar French historical component, a similar founding time-line (late 1600's), a port economy, and a takeover of the city by English speaking entrepreneurs. The BIG difference is that the French language made a comeback in Montreal while it died out in New Orleans.
The language element has stamped a character on Montreal that is both charming and infuriating. Quebec is an island of French in a sea of English. Since the 1960's Quebecians have been militant about maintaining the French language inside the province. This is not a dual language city. ALL signs for EVERYTHING are in French, and if you're lucky, with tiny, little English translations underneath the French. An example of infuriating: We couldn't figure out how to buy a 3 day metro card (which you can only get from a machine) because there was no English option until you got to the third step of a four step process. Thank heaven there was a metro employee sitting on a stool next to the machine helping tourists like us. It kind of defeats the purpose of the machine, but we were grateful for his help. Also infuriating, was the tour guide on the bus tour we took: Her English was limited at best, and it really affected her ability to tell us about the city - the reason we went on the tour. We were grateful for the metro because we didn't have to drive anywhere. There was no English translation on any road sign which made driving a little too adventurous in a strange city.
Montreal is a city of churches - both Protestant and Catholic. I got the feeling that in the 18th and 19th centuries each faith put up as many elaborate churches as they could possibly build trying to 'one-up' the other culture. These magnificent churches stick up over the landscape of the city. The Basilica of Notre Dame built in the 1820's is exquisite and today is considered the number one attraction in the city. I would definitely agree. It only took eight years to build it, and the exterior is a miniature Notre Dame in gray limestone. The interior is made entirely of carved and decorated wood. They present the church in a great way: there is an evening multi-media presentation using lights and film to explain the architecture and the founding of Montreal as it relates to this Catholic Church. This is still a working church. There are lots of these churches, convents, and monasteries that are no longer functioning religious buildings and have been converted to private residences. The other 'big' church is called The Oratory, dedicated to St. Joseph. It has 192 steps leading up to it which the faithful on feast days sometimes climb on their knees. This was an impressive building.
Just as in New Orleans, there is an 'old city' (the "Vieux Carre" in New Orleans, called the "Vieux Montreal" up here.) There's a little 18th century French architecture left, and lots of 19th century Victorian architecture. The 'old city' is entirely made of gray limestone - a legal requirement in the 1800's for fire protection. This was the commercial heart of the city, and a destructive fire so common in the era of oil lamps and open fire places would have been much too costly. The Vieux Montreal buildings are uniformly cut limestone blocks cheek to jowl to no open spaces at all between buildings. The older French buildings are mortared rough limestone brick with small multi-paned windows set into the stone. I think I would have enjoyed the old city part of Montreal more is I hadn't lived in New Orleans for almost eight years. This area just seemed like a cleaner French Quarter. What I did really enjoy was the Botanical Garden. That was the best part of the trip for me. This Garden easily compared with the famous Butchart Gardens in western Canada. While the Butchart is compact, the Montreal Gardens were huge. We didn't even manage to get through the half dozen greenhouses or walk any of the pathways that wind among the lawns and trees on the back half of the Gardens. I think the picture from the top of the Observation Tower which is a portion of the Olympic Parc shows how large the botanical gardens are:
We purposely decided not to take in the Fine Arts Museum or the Contemporary Art Museum. Drake was lukewarm at best, and we had limited time. We both felt that these museums would have been a pale copy of the New York City museums. How do you top the Metropolitan or the MOMA? The museum we did visit was completely unique. The Archeology Museum was built over an actual archeological dig down into the old city of Montreal all the way down to 1350. This land was originally the site of a major Iroquis settlement. When the French arrived in the mid 1600s, the Iroquois were swifty displaced. No wonder the Iroquois fought on the English side in the French and Indian Wars of the mid 18th century.
This place was fascinating. I had never actually been to an archeology dig before. You descend into the basement, and we walked around the dig site where they used colored lights to highlight various 'finds' and identifed the lighted areas with color coordinated signs. Most interesting: Walking down Rue St. Paul to get to the museum and realizing after looking in at the models that this street's origin was the original Iroquis path along the river. I was also thrilled to see an actual cobblestone street laid down in the 18th century from ballast stones used in the ships that docked at the Montreal port. It was actually covered over by later building as was an entire river that was used as a sewage dump in the 18th century. Appropriately, this 'river', originally a small river flowing into the St. Lawrence is called the Lost River. This was a very good museum and gave me a real sense of the history of Montreal.
An added bonus was a short term exhibition about how wine making came to France. (The short version: Roman soldiers leaving the Roman Army in the 1st century were encouraged to take up land right where they were invalided out, marry local girls and cement the Roman Empire. Those Roman boys who settled in Gaul figured out a good way to make a living was to grow grapes and make wine just like back home in Italy. It wasn't long before they were dominating the wine trade.)
We had a couple of lovely French meals; not quite as many as we had hoped, but anything is better than cooking in my book, and we spent one evening in a jazz club. Another big impression of Montreal is how 'young' it is. There are at least three major universities inside the city, and the main part of Montreal just teems with young people in the 20 - 30 age group. There's shopping out the wazoo. In fact, I think the 'hip' shopping was probably on par with New York City. We went lots of places where we were easily the oldest people in sight. Our subway stop outside our hotel was the metro entry point to Sherbrooke University, so every time we rode the subway back to our hotel, we we were surrounded by hordes of college students.
The hotel we chose was great. It was very comfortable and it was literally across the street from the metro station. The more subways I ride, the more I'm envious of the cities that took the plunge and built them. The hotel was 'across the river', and we saved about $100 a night plus parking which was free at this hotel. It took us less than 15 minutes to reach the heart of Montreal, and we didn't have to drive into town. With the confusing French highway system that was a real benefit. Overall, I'm glad I went to Montreal, but after New York, it seemed to be such a small city. We didn't find nearly enough 'stuff' we wanted to do. It wasn't a matter of picking and choosing and having to forego, but rather choosing the few things we thought would be worth our time.
Here are the rest of the pictures:
https://picasaweb.google.com/jalyss1/2011MontrealTouringTheCity?authkey=Gv1sRgCNqM-JSA85TqwQE#
https://picasaweb.google.com/jalyss1/2011MontrrealVieuxMontreal?authkey=Gv1sRgCIXUwu31w4H_Ew#
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Montreal Botanical Garden
Today, we went to the Montreal Botanical Garden. This is the most spectacular garden I've seen since the Butchart in Victoria. It was enhanced by a once a year exhibition that we got to see. This is all about pictures.
Here they are: https://picasaweb.google.com/jalyss1/2011MontrealBotanicalGarden?authkey=Gv1sRgCLCtoYnN8qK-UA#
Here they are: https://picasaweb.google.com/jalyss1/2011MontrealBotanicalGarden?authkey=Gv1sRgCLCtoYnN8qK-UA#
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Technology and Us
I was going to write about the Lancaster County Fair today, but this morning while doing my tedious and boring morning stretching, I heard a program on public radio which really piqued my interest. It was an interview with a MIT professor, Sherry Turkle, who has been studying technology and us. That's a simplification, as her studies are so all over the place that it's hard to pick and choose what I want to talk about - here in the technology I use to interface with all of you. What I want to talk about is her idea of how our constant 'plugged in' lifestyles are changing our social interactions. Duh. That would be my normal reaction because that would be stating the obvious. Her more important questions concern how technology is helping and hindering the value of personal solitude and reflection and personal interaction, as well as our difficulties in evaluating our interface with technology and why THAT'S important.
A central idea of Professor Turkle is that our social interactions are 'out of whack' because of technology, and she has discovered that people sense this, but aren't sure why. She suggests the reason is we have devalued the idea of aloneness, solitude, self-reflection and communicating important thoughts and feelings. Constant connection on a superficial level robs us of the more important social interactions. Then, she introduces the idea of setting personal boundaries concerning how, when, and why we use social technology.
I can now just hear all my anti-technology friends saying, yes, yes, we've been telling you technology is EVIL and wrong! My answer is no, you're missing her point, and I haven't explained it well enough. She is not anti-technology, but instead is suggesting that overindulgence in using social technology is distorting basic relationships. Here's what I think:
First, my use of social technology is an attempt to maintain relationships with my friends. When I started writing this blog, one of the main motivations was to keep communicating with my friends, so that I didn't wind up with a bunch of people who I only interacted with through the once a year Christmas card. What I've discovered is that many people who read this blog don't see my communication with them as a dialogue or even a correspondence that needs response. I have a lot of passive readers who enjoy peeping into my doings, but don't feel compelled to offer anything in return. Would you ignore a telephone call, a knock at the door? By contrast, if we constantly respond electronically (blogs, facebook, email, texts, twitter), at what point are we overwhelmed? Just look at that list for starters. I know people who are constantly doing SOMETHING electronically. And, yes, it IS isolating to be so completely electronically engaged which seems counterintuitive because we ARE interacting with other people when we blog, email, facebook, twit, text.
There's one of my points. How much right to I have to intrude? How obligated are you to respond? Is email correspondence? Does it always have to be answered? What about texts, twitters, blogs? Are you already drawing personal boundaries concerning technology either passively or actively? Do you have multiple email accounts as a way to segregate and compartmentalize your technology? Do you view your emails as all equally important, or do you have a criteria for the 'delete' button. Do you reflexively text as if you've been hit by one of those little rubber hammers the doctor uses to check you reflexes? Part of the problem in drawing technology boundaries (how much is too much) is that our work is now so intertwined in our use of technology and this has encouraged the blurring and knee jeek reaction to social technology. Another problem with drawing boundaries is that technology is so convenient. As the professor points out, we are still coming to terms with defining this tool, and our evolution is still in the infant stage.
I've been knashing my teeth and been constantly frustrated up here in yonderville because I'm not as 'connected' as I want to be. By that I mean I can't access information that makes it easier to live in a physical place I'm not completely familiar with. I LIKE looking up telephone numbers, locations, choices, maps, directions and answers to questions that pop up while navigating life. That's usually not possible up here. I feel like I'm living in a throw-back situation, and it's not OK. Yes, that's how I feel: It's not OK. The telephone book is not good enough anymore for the way I live my life. I don't feel that the informational use of technology is intrusive. It's just the opposite. On the informational level, technology does allow me to reach people on a quick and appropriate level that's convenient for both the seeker and the recipient. (I don't have to hear your voice to get the address of your restaurant or how to get there.)
What's important is learning how to separate the informational use of technology from the social use of technology. Those uses are totally different animals. When the Facebook inventor makes the statement "privacy is no longer a social norm", no one blinks an eye. There's my point: Where does personal privacy start? Notice, I used the word PERSONAL - meaning, what is socially shared using technology, what isn't shared, and what shouldn't be shared. My use of social technology tends to reflect my personality - which is wide open (big surprise to everyone, right?). There's very little I won't share about what I'm thinking and who I am. I'm comfortable with that level of intimacy, but I recognize that many people aren't. When my close friends don't respond to me electronically on a personal level, I feel a great deal of frustration and of being abandoned since I can't be up close and personal any other way right now. On the other hand, sometimes it's difficult to be personally involved electronically because of the 'big brother is watching' issue.
The 'big brother factor' notwithstanding, I've chosen to be personally open electronically as my way of trying to combat what I think is the true about social technology: It's mind numbingly superficial and personally unfulfilling. (I'm eating a pizza right now, driving to work, playing Farmville, etc., etc., etc. - go back and read your old Facebook pages or texts if you don't believe me.) There's almost no conversation about anything important or meaningful. We delude ourselves that we are interacting when in actuality we are just projecting our loneliness without reflection or point. I have ONE friend who contributes thought provoking ideas and personal challenges via Facebook. I hunger for her entries because they always make me THINK about something important. If you aren't SOMETIMES telling me something meaningful on your Facebook page, then I'm not just bored with your entries, but I'm sad and annoyed by your inability or unwillingness to share WHO YOU ARE. If you are unwilling or unable to share something important, then ask yourself why are you making these meaningless entries? What's the point? Those are the types of questions that we need to start asking and answering about ourselves and our use of social technology.
The same with email: Everyone knows that I don't 'forward' third party emails, but I always answer personal emails. I find people are way too eager to forward someone else's opinion rather than take the time to tell me their own about a subject they must care about since they insist on sharing someone else's views. I know what my political views are, and I'll be happy to share them with anyone - personally. The same goes for inspirational emails. What inspires me is personal interaction. I would rather have your words to me than some stranger's words. I would prefer something awkwardly said that was directly from you rather than dressed up by a stranger. These are ways I set personal boundaries on my social technology.
I guess I'm saying that while I do use this blog as a travel log, or for humorous observations, I also force myself to use it as a platform to make my friends think occasionally, as well as share what's personally important to me. Here's the final point: If you haven't taken the time to evaluate what meaning social technology has in your life, it's time to start. If you're not sharing something important using social technology at least some of the time, then what's the point? I'm looking forward to your answers, but I'm also not holding my breath.
A central idea of Professor Turkle is that our social interactions are 'out of whack' because of technology, and she has discovered that people sense this, but aren't sure why. She suggests the reason is we have devalued the idea of aloneness, solitude, self-reflection and communicating important thoughts and feelings. Constant connection on a superficial level robs us of the more important social interactions. Then, she introduces the idea of setting personal boundaries concerning how, when, and why we use social technology.
I can now just hear all my anti-technology friends saying, yes, yes, we've been telling you technology is EVIL and wrong! My answer is no, you're missing her point, and I haven't explained it well enough. She is not anti-technology, but instead is suggesting that overindulgence in using social technology is distorting basic relationships. Here's what I think:
First, my use of social technology is an attempt to maintain relationships with my friends. When I started writing this blog, one of the main motivations was to keep communicating with my friends, so that I didn't wind up with a bunch of people who I only interacted with through the once a year Christmas card. What I've discovered is that many people who read this blog don't see my communication with them as a dialogue or even a correspondence that needs response. I have a lot of passive readers who enjoy peeping into my doings, but don't feel compelled to offer anything in return. Would you ignore a telephone call, a knock at the door? By contrast, if we constantly respond electronically (blogs, facebook, email, texts, twitter), at what point are we overwhelmed? Just look at that list for starters. I know people who are constantly doing SOMETHING electronically. And, yes, it IS isolating to be so completely electronically engaged which seems counterintuitive because we ARE interacting with other people when we blog, email, facebook, twit, text.
There's one of my points. How much right to I have to intrude? How obligated are you to respond? Is email correspondence? Does it always have to be answered? What about texts, twitters, blogs? Are you already drawing personal boundaries concerning technology either passively or actively? Do you have multiple email accounts as a way to segregate and compartmentalize your technology? Do you view your emails as all equally important, or do you have a criteria for the 'delete' button. Do you reflexively text as if you've been hit by one of those little rubber hammers the doctor uses to check you reflexes? Part of the problem in drawing technology boundaries (how much is too much) is that our work is now so intertwined in our use of technology and this has encouraged the blurring and knee jeek reaction to social technology. Another problem with drawing boundaries is that technology is so convenient. As the professor points out, we are still coming to terms with defining this tool, and our evolution is still in the infant stage.
I've been knashing my teeth and been constantly frustrated up here in yonderville because I'm not as 'connected' as I want to be. By that I mean I can't access information that makes it easier to live in a physical place I'm not completely familiar with. I LIKE looking up telephone numbers, locations, choices, maps, directions and answers to questions that pop up while navigating life. That's usually not possible up here. I feel like I'm living in a throw-back situation, and it's not OK. Yes, that's how I feel: It's not OK. The telephone book is not good enough anymore for the way I live my life. I don't feel that the informational use of technology is intrusive. It's just the opposite. On the informational level, technology does allow me to reach people on a quick and appropriate level that's convenient for both the seeker and the recipient. (I don't have to hear your voice to get the address of your restaurant or how to get there.)
What's important is learning how to separate the informational use of technology from the social use of technology. Those uses are totally different animals. When the Facebook inventor makes the statement "privacy is no longer a social norm", no one blinks an eye. There's my point: Where does personal privacy start? Notice, I used the word PERSONAL - meaning, what is socially shared using technology, what isn't shared, and what shouldn't be shared. My use of social technology tends to reflect my personality - which is wide open (big surprise to everyone, right?). There's very little I won't share about what I'm thinking and who I am. I'm comfortable with that level of intimacy, but I recognize that many people aren't. When my close friends don't respond to me electronically on a personal level, I feel a great deal of frustration and of being abandoned since I can't be up close and personal any other way right now. On the other hand, sometimes it's difficult to be personally involved electronically because of the 'big brother is watching' issue.
The 'big brother factor' notwithstanding, I've chosen to be personally open electronically as my way of trying to combat what I think is the true about social technology: It's mind numbingly superficial and personally unfulfilling. (I'm eating a pizza right now, driving to work, playing Farmville, etc., etc., etc. - go back and read your old Facebook pages or texts if you don't believe me.) There's almost no conversation about anything important or meaningful. We delude ourselves that we are interacting when in actuality we are just projecting our loneliness without reflection or point. I have ONE friend who contributes thought provoking ideas and personal challenges via Facebook. I hunger for her entries because they always make me THINK about something important. If you aren't SOMETIMES telling me something meaningful on your Facebook page, then I'm not just bored with your entries, but I'm sad and annoyed by your inability or unwillingness to share WHO YOU ARE. If you are unwilling or unable to share something important, then ask yourself why are you making these meaningless entries? What's the point? Those are the types of questions that we need to start asking and answering about ourselves and our use of social technology.
The same with email: Everyone knows that I don't 'forward' third party emails, but I always answer personal emails. I find people are way too eager to forward someone else's opinion rather than take the time to tell me their own about a subject they must care about since they insist on sharing someone else's views. I know what my political views are, and I'll be happy to share them with anyone - personally. The same goes for inspirational emails. What inspires me is personal interaction. I would rather have your words to me than some stranger's words. I would prefer something awkwardly said that was directly from you rather than dressed up by a stranger. These are ways I set personal boundaries on my social technology.
I guess I'm saying that while I do use this blog as a travel log, or for humorous observations, I also force myself to use it as a platform to make my friends think occasionally, as well as share what's personally important to me. Here's the final point: If you haven't taken the time to evaluate what meaning social technology has in your life, it's time to start. If you're not sharing something important using social technology at least some of the time, then what's the point? I'm looking forward to your answers, but I'm also not holding my breath.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Pemigewasset River, Cascade Brook and the Lost Gorge
We have been so fortunate. Hurricane Irene was a non-event for us. One of my readers asked me to define the 'hill' I talk about where our house is located. We live in the shadow of Cannon Mountain which is about 3,500 feet in elevation and on the border of Franconia Notch State Park. Cannon is Bode Miller's 'home ski mountain', and one of New England's premier ski areas. Our 'hill' is 1900 feet in elevation, and Franconia Village which is 3 miles down the road is 900 feet in elevation. When we go to Franconia, you can 'coast' all the way. Some of the 'grades' on the way to the village are 12%.
The Pemigewasset River headwaters are a few miles from our house originating at Profile Lake inside the state park. Cascade Brook joins the Pemi which flows into the Gale River (the river with the iron furnace on it in the center of Franconia). The reason I'm detailing all this water is to give you the understanding of what is happening with the flooding in Vermont as a result of the water dumped in the area by Hurricane Irene.
If the path of Hurricane Irene had been 50 miles to the east, we would be having major flooding because of these small streams, medium rivers and large rivers that all flow downhill joining the Connecticut River (which runs the length of the entire border between Vermont and New Hampshire and beyond into Massachusetts and Connecticut ) and then out into the Atlantic. Our area got 3 - 6 inches of rain over a 24 hour period - steady, but not terribly hard. Meanwhile, 50 miles to our west (Vermont) got 6 - 12 inches of rain over the same period. All these rivers and streams started roaring and overflowed their banks, destroyed bridges, cut power lines, and washed out roads leaving islands of people stranded inside their houses inside their towns. Remember, lots of towns in New England are like Franconia - hydro power was the engine of their factories and industrial processes and pretty large streams flow right through them.
Today, we decided to venture out and do a hike that follows the path of one of the streams inside Franconia Notch State Park. Drake had done this hike prior to the hurricane, but this was my first time on the hike. Drake estimates that the amount of water in the brook and the river tripled from his last visit as a result of the hurricane.
I also have thrown in the pictures of the trip to Lost River Gorge. We did this last week prior to Irene. This is an area where an unknown River (why it's called 'Lost' )runs through a huge granite gorge. In the 18th century one the of "Kinsman" boys, an early pioneer family in the area, fell through a hole and discovered this natural attraction. It wasn't long before the Kinsman sons were attracting tourists and charging admission to view the gorge The pictures tell the story, as always.
Today's hike is the first link and last week's Lost River Gorge trip is the second link. You will see 'high water' in the Lost River Gorge pictures which helps understand why Irene was so devastating in terms of flooding - we've had record rain for August prior to the hurricane.
https://picasaweb.google.com/jalyss1/2011NewHampshireTour9TheBasinCascadeBrookHike?authkey=Gv1sRgCN-aj7C4o6_erAE#
https://picasaweb.google.com/jalyss1/2011NewHampshireTour8LostRiverGorge?authkey=Gv1sRgCI3w-fCJ1rOgfQ#
The Pemigewasset River headwaters are a few miles from our house originating at Profile Lake inside the state park. Cascade Brook joins the Pemi which flows into the Gale River (the river with the iron furnace on it in the center of Franconia). The reason I'm detailing all this water is to give you the understanding of what is happening with the flooding in Vermont as a result of the water dumped in the area by Hurricane Irene.
If the path of Hurricane Irene had been 50 miles to the east, we would be having major flooding because of these small streams, medium rivers and large rivers that all flow downhill joining the Connecticut River (which runs the length of the entire border between Vermont and New Hampshire and beyond into Massachusetts and Connecticut ) and then out into the Atlantic. Our area got 3 - 6 inches of rain over a 24 hour period - steady, but not terribly hard. Meanwhile, 50 miles to our west (Vermont) got 6 - 12 inches of rain over the same period. All these rivers and streams started roaring and overflowed their banks, destroyed bridges, cut power lines, and washed out roads leaving islands of people stranded inside their houses inside their towns. Remember, lots of towns in New England are like Franconia - hydro power was the engine of their factories and industrial processes and pretty large streams flow right through them.
Today, we decided to venture out and do a hike that follows the path of one of the streams inside Franconia Notch State Park. Drake had done this hike prior to the hurricane, but this was my first time on the hike. Drake estimates that the amount of water in the brook and the river tripled from his last visit as a result of the hurricane.
I also have thrown in the pictures of the trip to Lost River Gorge. We did this last week prior to Irene. This is an area where an unknown River (why it's called 'Lost' )runs through a huge granite gorge. In the 18th century one the of "Kinsman" boys, an early pioneer family in the area, fell through a hole and discovered this natural attraction. It wasn't long before the Kinsman sons were attracting tourists and charging admission to view the gorge The pictures tell the story, as always.
Today's hike is the first link and last week's Lost River Gorge trip is the second link. You will see 'high water' in the Lost River Gorge pictures which helps understand why Irene was so devastating in terms of flooding - we've had record rain for August prior to the hurricane.
https://picasaweb.google.com/jalyss1/2011NewHampshireTour9TheBasinCascadeBrookHike?authkey=Gv1sRgCN-aj7C4o6_erAE#
https://picasaweb.google.com/jalyss1/2011NewHampshireTour8LostRiverGorge?authkey=Gv1sRgCI3w-fCJ1rOgfQ#
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Hurricane New Hampshire
I lived in New Orleans for almost eight years, and the year Sarah was born there were three Category One hurricanes that hit within 50 miles of New Orleans that September. A standing joke in New Orleans was that there was a 'baby spike' the day of the hurricane and........nine months later. Actually, a big barometric pressure drop can bring on labor in an almost full term pregnancy, and as to the nine months later...........this is a G rated blog - well, mostly, so use your imagination.
The reason I bring up New Orleans is that one of the things I took away from that city was a healthy respect for hurricanes. I saw many 'little ones' up very close and personal. When you look out the window and the rain in blowing directly into the pane and the trees 10 feet away are bent literally double, it's a spooky, scary sensation, AND that was a Cat One Hurricane. What I didn't expect was to have to draw on my NOLA storm knowledge in New Hampshire.
While Texas has sweltered and baked this summer, up here we have had, especially in August, almost daily rain. It's been really lovely, but the ground is saturated and spongy. The trees have sucked it up and put out a leaf canopy that fills the mountain sides. We have been expecting it to be an outstanding autumn. All well and good until along came Irene.
I like to think of it as "Hurricane New Hampshire". First, people here talk about four hurricanes: The New England Hurricane of 1938 - yes, that was it's 'name'; The Great Atlantic Hurricane of 1944, Gloria in 1985, and Bob in 1991. They generally have in common a large number of people hurt or killed or the hurricane was a Cat 2 or 3. I checked and surprisingly, there have been many, many more hurricanes in New England over the centuries most of which were not really memorable in that they didn't kill a lot of people and mostly were limited to weak Category 1 storms that passed through the region pretty quickly. Irene looks to be a different kettle of fish in that it follows the New England pattern of being 'weak', but unlike some other hurricanes/tropical storms, this one is very, very large.
While it was moving out of Washington D.C. last night, we were starting to get rain from the storm. There's 550 miles between D.C. and us. The rain started about 1 am Saturday night, and now on Sunday morning at 10 am, it's still raining with ripples of wind. It's supposed to rain steadily and heavily from now until 5:00 a.m. on Monday. The crap shoot is the wind. How strong? How long? We decided to prepare for power outage because of the abundant trees right up next to power lines, and using the advice of a friend who went through the edge of Katrina, we duct taped the bathtub drain and filled the tub with water. That way we can actually wash and flush if we lose power.
We finally found New England Cable News on the cable - which is actual coverage including RADAR of the New England area. ( I tell you, though, FLEXSEAL is advertising fast and furious - that's the one where the guy rows a boat with a screen door as the bottom of the boat that's been coated with FLEXSEAL which is apparently spray on rubber in a can. I feel like yelling at the TV: "Too little, too late, Buddy! Where were you yesterday!") I've also been vastly entertained all morning by the New York City coverage. It's pretty thrilling to see someone standing right where we did just a couple of months ago. The most vivid was the weather woman standing up to her knees in water right on the walkway where we lined up to get on the ferry to the Statue of Liberty. That walkway is right next to the river. I realize that we don't exactly have a big audience up here in New England's equivalent to Hicksville, so it's understandable that CNN and WeatherChannel are fixated on New York. However, since the storm hasn't reached us yet, we needed a little more focused coverage on our specific area, and voila, NECN to the rescue.
I can already see that something I didn't count on was my hazy grasp of New England geography. I have learned how the states are stacked, and I know that the Connecticut River runs the length of the Vermont/New Hampshire border, but I really don't know the towns and roads like I would in Texas. As I'm listening to coverage, town names and road numbers, creek and river names are being dropped like grains of rice at a wedding. I'm glad we drove up the western side of Connecticut and Massachusetts to get here. That gives me some very rudimentary knowledge. Another funny thing, the state maps are the same size as the Texas map, but one inch equals 10 miles on these maps. It's hard to grasp how small this region really is. Oh, oh, I just heard the Pemigawasset River is going to flood. I know that name! It's right down the road a few miles.
Well, here's the irony: We've had virtually no wind, but lots of soft, constant rain with intermittent periods of moderately heavy rainfall. Now, at 7pm there's really not much rain, but stronger winds than we've seen in the past 24 hours. Using my Texas eye, I'd say maybe 35 or 40 mph. If it doesn't get any worse than this, I can go unstick the bathtub drain. I think the flooding of the rivers is the last hurdle we have to get over. As we live on a hill, all we have to do is stay home. Gosh, I can't believe how many goofballs were out when they were being told over and over and over again: STAY HOME. It's hard to feel sorry for someone who gets killed when a tree falls on their car while they are out rubbernecking.
Actually, it's obvious from the birds eye view up here that the NY infrastructure is going to take some time to get back to service. Subway stations that we used are underwater. Some of the north/south interstate highways have sections of high water running over the road, and I expect this will get worse in the next 24 hours as dozens of rivers crest. There are trees and power poles laying over rail tracks. It's hard to relate to this, but public transit moves so many people up here to their every day tasks - like going to work, going to school, even shopping for groceries, that disruption of the service ripples out throughout the communities.
I am so glad that this hurricane has been so much less severe than expected. I just hope that the people in the path don't think they were misled by the meteorologists. They really weren't. Weather prediction is still an inexact science even in this age of satellites and computers. Weather gurus can predict the path pretty accurately, but not the exact strength. Thus, the mantra about this storm by FEMA as well as the state authorities over a dozen states has been: It's better to be safe than sorry.
If Katrina taught us anything, it's that. You can always drive back home after the damage is not as bad as the forecast predicted. The inconvenience of spending a couple of days out of your house sure beats the heck out of drowning in your attic or sitting on your roof for days. I followed some of the twitter traffic up here today, and there was a lot of bitching about 'hype' and 'overkill' and 'scare tactics'. I think that when a hurricane like this comes up, CNN and the WeatherChannel should just air an hour of the news footage of people pleading for rescue and water from the tops of New Orleans roofs. I was happy to buy a couple of extra gallons of drinking water, fill some additional jugs, duct tape our bathtub drain and buy some batteries for our flashlights. This was a real victory for the new emergency system that has come gradually into being since Katrina. One million people were moved away from the New Jersey shore area without panic or even bad traffic jams.
It's been another travel 'experience' - a New England hurricane. It was interesting to follow the local coverage and watch the various state authorities. And the really good news: The leaves are still on the trees. It's going to be a great color show in New England this fall.
The reason I bring up New Orleans is that one of the things I took away from that city was a healthy respect for hurricanes. I saw many 'little ones' up very close and personal. When you look out the window and the rain in blowing directly into the pane and the trees 10 feet away are bent literally double, it's a spooky, scary sensation, AND that was a Cat One Hurricane. What I didn't expect was to have to draw on my NOLA storm knowledge in New Hampshire.
While Texas has sweltered and baked this summer, up here we have had, especially in August, almost daily rain. It's been really lovely, but the ground is saturated and spongy. The trees have sucked it up and put out a leaf canopy that fills the mountain sides. We have been expecting it to be an outstanding autumn. All well and good until along came Irene.
I like to think of it as "Hurricane New Hampshire". First, people here talk about four hurricanes: The New England Hurricane of 1938 - yes, that was it's 'name'; The Great Atlantic Hurricane of 1944, Gloria in 1985, and Bob in 1991. They generally have in common a large number of people hurt or killed or the hurricane was a Cat 2 or 3. I checked and surprisingly, there have been many, many more hurricanes in New England over the centuries most of which were not really memorable in that they didn't kill a lot of people and mostly were limited to weak Category 1 storms that passed through the region pretty quickly. Irene looks to be a different kettle of fish in that it follows the New England pattern of being 'weak', but unlike some other hurricanes/tropical storms, this one is very, very large.
While it was moving out of Washington D.C. last night, we were starting to get rain from the storm. There's 550 miles between D.C. and us. The rain started about 1 am Saturday night, and now on Sunday morning at 10 am, it's still raining with ripples of wind. It's supposed to rain steadily and heavily from now until 5:00 a.m. on Monday. The crap shoot is the wind. How strong? How long? We decided to prepare for power outage because of the abundant trees right up next to power lines, and using the advice of a friend who went through the edge of Katrina, we duct taped the bathtub drain and filled the tub with water. That way we can actually wash and flush if we lose power.
We finally found New England Cable News on the cable - which is actual coverage including RADAR of the New England area. ( I tell you, though, FLEXSEAL is advertising fast and furious - that's the one where the guy rows a boat with a screen door as the bottom of the boat that's been coated with FLEXSEAL which is apparently spray on rubber in a can. I feel like yelling at the TV: "Too little, too late, Buddy! Where were you yesterday!") I've also been vastly entertained all morning by the New York City coverage. It's pretty thrilling to see someone standing right where we did just a couple of months ago. The most vivid was the weather woman standing up to her knees in water right on the walkway where we lined up to get on the ferry to the Statue of Liberty. That walkway is right next to the river. I realize that we don't exactly have a big audience up here in New England's equivalent to Hicksville, so it's understandable that CNN and WeatherChannel are fixated on New York. However, since the storm hasn't reached us yet, we needed a little more focused coverage on our specific area, and voila, NECN to the rescue.
I can already see that something I didn't count on was my hazy grasp of New England geography. I have learned how the states are stacked, and I know that the Connecticut River runs the length of the Vermont/New Hampshire border, but I really don't know the towns and roads like I would in Texas. As I'm listening to coverage, town names and road numbers, creek and river names are being dropped like grains of rice at a wedding. I'm glad we drove up the western side of Connecticut and Massachusetts to get here. That gives me some very rudimentary knowledge. Another funny thing, the state maps are the same size as the Texas map, but one inch equals 10 miles on these maps. It's hard to grasp how small this region really is. Oh, oh, I just heard the Pemigawasset River is going to flood. I know that name! It's right down the road a few miles.
Well, here's the irony: We've had virtually no wind, but lots of soft, constant rain with intermittent periods of moderately heavy rainfall. Now, at 7pm there's really not much rain, but stronger winds than we've seen in the past 24 hours. Using my Texas eye, I'd say maybe 35 or 40 mph. If it doesn't get any worse than this, I can go unstick the bathtub drain. I think the flooding of the rivers is the last hurdle we have to get over. As we live on a hill, all we have to do is stay home. Gosh, I can't believe how many goofballs were out when they were being told over and over and over again: STAY HOME. It's hard to feel sorry for someone who gets killed when a tree falls on their car while they are out rubbernecking.
Actually, it's obvious from the birds eye view up here that the NY infrastructure is going to take some time to get back to service. Subway stations that we used are underwater. Some of the north/south interstate highways have sections of high water running over the road, and I expect this will get worse in the next 24 hours as dozens of rivers crest. There are trees and power poles laying over rail tracks. It's hard to relate to this, but public transit moves so many people up here to their every day tasks - like going to work, going to school, even shopping for groceries, that disruption of the service ripples out throughout the communities.
I am so glad that this hurricane has been so much less severe than expected. I just hope that the people in the path don't think they were misled by the meteorologists. They really weren't. Weather prediction is still an inexact science even in this age of satellites and computers. Weather gurus can predict the path pretty accurately, but not the exact strength. Thus, the mantra about this storm by FEMA as well as the state authorities over a dozen states has been: It's better to be safe than sorry.
If Katrina taught us anything, it's that. You can always drive back home after the damage is not as bad as the forecast predicted. The inconvenience of spending a couple of days out of your house sure beats the heck out of drowning in your attic or sitting on your roof for days. I followed some of the twitter traffic up here today, and there was a lot of bitching about 'hype' and 'overkill' and 'scare tactics'. I think that when a hurricane like this comes up, CNN and the WeatherChannel should just air an hour of the news footage of people pleading for rescue and water from the tops of New Orleans roofs. I was happy to buy a couple of extra gallons of drinking water, fill some additional jugs, duct tape our bathtub drain and buy some batteries for our flashlights. This was a real victory for the new emergency system that has come gradually into being since Katrina. One million people were moved away from the New Jersey shore area without panic or even bad traffic jams.
It's been another travel 'experience' - a New England hurricane. It was interesting to follow the local coverage and watch the various state authorities. And the really good news: The leaves are still on the trees. It's going to be a great color show in New England this fall.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Roadtrip: The Lake District - the Macro Version
Last week we went to the Lake Sunapee area which is the western edge of the "Lake District" of New Hampshire. The big dog lake here is Lake Winnipesaukee which sprawls over an impressive part of the eastern central area of New Hampshire. It's glacial in origin, and I think it was originally several small lakes that over eons of time sort of melted together. It's not like a Texas lake with huge areas of water. Lake Winnipesaukee has 278 islands scattered throughout it. Those islands give this lake so much shore line that the tourist attracters advertise it as 'the sixth largest lake inside the United States'. In reality, it's about the 70th largest lake in the US, but you have to admire the zillions of silver fingers threading their way around the green islands. Some of the islands are postage stamp size, while others look multi-sized beads in an archipelago chain. There are all covered with trees, trees, trees. There are no beaches. It's as if the trees grow right down to the shorelines.
The reason we were able to see all this so clearly is that we were standing on top of a mountain. Albeit, a SMALL mountain, which turned out not to be a mountain at all. We were on the grounds of the Castle in the Clouds. First, it's a promotional name to cash in on the tourist trade, which it does admirably. Second, there's no moat, but there is a turret and a trolley car you get to ride on from the Carriage House to the Castle. Third, it's awfully small in castle terms: only 16 rooms. It does have astonishing views, and the house is clever and imminently livable. That's pretty surprising in itself since most of the 'grand houses' I have toured are at essence not very comfortable. You just can't imagine yourself sitting around in your pjs' drinking coffee and reading the paper or diddling around with your computer eating cookies.
I guess that's why I liked Lucknow - the original name of the house. It was built by a rags to riches to rags guy named Plant. He made his fortune in women's shoes around the turn of the century - to the tune of $21 million when he sold out in about 1910 - about 3 billion in today's money. He went to Europe after he cashed out, acquired a wife who was 26 years younger than him and 13 inches taller. As Drake put it, he probably seemed pretty tall and virile standing on top of all that money. They designed the house together, and they had it built in a year between 1913 and 1914. He imported stonemasons from Italy, and the completion of a house that size in that speed cost him a lot of extra money which wasn't exactly a problem for him in 1914.
He was very forward thinking. He had the house wired for electricity generating his own power hydroelectrically using mountain streams on the 40 acres the house sits on. (The closest town, Moultonborough, didn't get electricity until 1921.) He built in a central vacuum, a house wide intercom, foot to head multiple jet showers (called a 'needle shower' - it sent needles of water spray at your organs - a health thing), his own pipe organ, and hand painted rondels for two windows in each room. (A rondel is a handpainted sun catcher depicting a scene.) I thought they were the most special thing about this house. The house style is 'arts and crafts' and I could easily see myself living there. There were no formal rooms. The dining room, for example, has a quite small round table set with simple flower adorned china. There is no formal living room. There are many places to sit and visit in nooks and crannies on comfortable furniture, most of time while having an astounding view. If that's not enough, there's a pipe organ built into the house, and there's a secret room! Plant, something of an eccentric, built a secret room into his library. If he was bored by a guest, he waited until the guest's back was turned, and he popped open the wall, slid in and closed the wall behind himself. This little room was equipped with an easy chair, book shelf and floor cabinet radio. This is also a guy who liked to wear his complete suit of armor to parties.
Apparently Plant lost his business acumen. He managed to go broke BEFORE the Great Depression. When he died, his friends had to take up a collection to bury him. I guess he did manage to score true love because his young 6'1" wife stuck by him. (Hint: By going back to the first paragraph, you can work out how tall Plant was.) The house needed major repairs when it was finally sold, and the new owners were smart enough not to mess with it too much. They resold it, and it was being run as a cheesy second rate tourist attraction with a new name: Castle in the Clouds. Finally, in the late 1990's a conservation group got hold of the house and grounds and started restoring it to the glory Mr. Plant intended when he built it. The installed a wonderful restaurant in the Carriage House where we had a nice lunch on the terrace and snapped pictures of Lake Winnipesaukee and all those lovely little islands. The conservation group restored the house, room by room, and the lawn and garden. They kept the "Castle in the Clouds" name for the tourist attraction value. There is still some restoration, and they are aiming for completion of everything for their centennial (2014).
I wrote this blog backwards. We actually started the trip with a visit to the Loon Center - no, not a holding pen for crazy people, but a conservation center dedicated to saving loons - those black and white speckled duck looking birds with the lonely call. We didn't see a loon, but it didn't lessen the enjoyment of the little hike and the view of Lake Winnipesaukee. I did get some handmade note cards that have loons on them. And, the center has a few stuffed ones to see when the loons are out and about and unseeable.
All told, it was a very relaxing day, nice little hike, a lovely lunch, and a good attraction topped off with ice cream and a surprising fountain. This day was a joy since I was trying out my new camera, and my new orthotic. (Good news: looks like the orthotic is going to let me take up some restrained hiking again!) Better news: I love the new camera. You can tell me what you think. https://picasaweb.google.com/jalyss1/2011NewHampshireTour7CastleInTheClouds?authkey=Gv1sRgCK_Q24Cnkp-T8wE#
The reason we were able to see all this so clearly is that we were standing on top of a mountain. Albeit, a SMALL mountain, which turned out not to be a mountain at all. We were on the grounds of the Castle in the Clouds. First, it's a promotional name to cash in on the tourist trade, which it does admirably. Second, there's no moat, but there is a turret and a trolley car you get to ride on from the Carriage House to the Castle. Third, it's awfully small in castle terms: only 16 rooms. It does have astonishing views, and the house is clever and imminently livable. That's pretty surprising in itself since most of the 'grand houses' I have toured are at essence not very comfortable. You just can't imagine yourself sitting around in your pjs' drinking coffee and reading the paper or diddling around with your computer eating cookies.
I guess that's why I liked Lucknow - the original name of the house. It was built by a rags to riches to rags guy named Plant. He made his fortune in women's shoes around the turn of the century - to the tune of $21 million when he sold out in about 1910 - about 3 billion in today's money. He went to Europe after he cashed out, acquired a wife who was 26 years younger than him and 13 inches taller. As Drake put it, he probably seemed pretty tall and virile standing on top of all that money. They designed the house together, and they had it built in a year between 1913 and 1914. He imported stonemasons from Italy, and the completion of a house that size in that speed cost him a lot of extra money which wasn't exactly a problem for him in 1914.
He was very forward thinking. He had the house wired for electricity generating his own power hydroelectrically using mountain streams on the 40 acres the house sits on. (The closest town, Moultonborough, didn't get electricity until 1921.) He built in a central vacuum, a house wide intercom, foot to head multiple jet showers (called a 'needle shower' - it sent needles of water spray at your organs - a health thing), his own pipe organ, and hand painted rondels for two windows in each room. (A rondel is a handpainted sun catcher depicting a scene.) I thought they were the most special thing about this house. The house style is 'arts and crafts' and I could easily see myself living there. There were no formal rooms. The dining room, for example, has a quite small round table set with simple flower adorned china. There is no formal living room. There are many places to sit and visit in nooks and crannies on comfortable furniture, most of time while having an astounding view. If that's not enough, there's a pipe organ built into the house, and there's a secret room! Plant, something of an eccentric, built a secret room into his library. If he was bored by a guest, he waited until the guest's back was turned, and he popped open the wall, slid in and closed the wall behind himself. This little room was equipped with an easy chair, book shelf and floor cabinet radio. This is also a guy who liked to wear his complete suit of armor to parties.
Apparently Plant lost his business acumen. He managed to go broke BEFORE the Great Depression. When he died, his friends had to take up a collection to bury him. I guess he did manage to score true love because his young 6'1" wife stuck by him. (Hint: By going back to the first paragraph, you can work out how tall Plant was.) The house needed major repairs when it was finally sold, and the new owners were smart enough not to mess with it too much. They resold it, and it was being run as a cheesy second rate tourist attraction with a new name: Castle in the Clouds. Finally, in the late 1990's a conservation group got hold of the house and grounds and started restoring it to the glory Mr. Plant intended when he built it. The installed a wonderful restaurant in the Carriage House where we had a nice lunch on the terrace and snapped pictures of Lake Winnipesaukee and all those lovely little islands. The conservation group restored the house, room by room, and the lawn and garden. They kept the "Castle in the Clouds" name for the tourist attraction value. There is still some restoration, and they are aiming for completion of everything for their centennial (2014).
I wrote this blog backwards. We actually started the trip with a visit to the Loon Center - no, not a holding pen for crazy people, but a conservation center dedicated to saving loons - those black and white speckled duck looking birds with the lonely call. We didn't see a loon, but it didn't lessen the enjoyment of the little hike and the view of Lake Winnipesaukee. I did get some handmade note cards that have loons on them. And, the center has a few stuffed ones to see when the loons are out and about and unseeable.
All told, it was a very relaxing day, nice little hike, a lovely lunch, and a good attraction topped off with ice cream and a surprising fountain. This day was a joy since I was trying out my new camera, and my new orthotic. (Good news: looks like the orthotic is going to let me take up some restrained hiking again!) Better news: I love the new camera. You can tell me what you think. https://picasaweb.google.com/jalyss1/2011NewHampshireTour7CastleInTheClouds?authkey=Gv1sRgCK_Q24Cnkp-T8wE#
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