I have a few notes from our trip that didn’t make it into the heart of the travel log. I’ll be posting them here over the next few days because, quite frankly, these are important observations, too important for me to keep to myself.
For example, here’s one:
Is it possible that the wall of traffic we hit when we entered Luxembourg was part of a coordinated effort by Luxembourgians to give travelers the impression that Luxembourg is a really really big country (that is, one that takes a long time to drive across), when in fact it’s quite tiny?
Could it be that they’re under state orders to take to the road at 9 am and drive slowly until 5 pm before returning to their extremely tiny homes? I mean, is there any chance at all that this is exactly what’s going on?
Because, if so, that would be crazy.
xx-temp-files
My One-Word-Review of Harry Nilsson’s “Nilsson Sings Newman”
Poffertjes. (and I mean that as a compliment)
“About-creativity.com, I choose you!”
Woke up this morning to find that some wonderful human being over at Yahoo had selected us as Yahoo Picks’ “Pick of the Day.” If you’ve discovered this site through that review, welcome!
The artist interviews to-date include: poets Kim Addonizio, Maggie Nelson, and Bob Holman, web innovator Ze Frank, musicians Jonathan Coulton and Van Dyke Parks, choreographer Natalie Marrone, authors Lemony Snicket and DyAnne DiSalvo, visual artists James Warren Perry and Tucker Nichols, clown and playwright Jeff Raz, standup comic and sitcom writer Howard Kremer, cartoonist Dan Piraro, columnist Jon Carroll, and screenwriter/director John August. Scroll down to peruse the interviews from most recent to least-most-recent.
You can also subscribe to future interviews — I’ll be posting a new one every week or two. Upcoming interviews include comic book creator (Mage/Grendel) Matt Wagner, musician Adrian Belew, and World of Warcraft storyteller Chris Metzen.
Thanks a lot for dropping by. If you get a chance, be sure to leave a comment to let us know what you think,
-Cecil
An Interview with Kim Addonizio
Photo credit: Joe Allen.
Kim Addonizio is the author of three books of poetry from BOA Editions: The Philosopher’s Club, Jimmy & Rita, and Tell Me, which was a finalist for the 2000 National Book Award. Her latest poetry collection, What Is This Thing Called Love, was published by W. W. Norton in January 2004. A book of stories, In the Box Called Pleasure, was published by Fiction Collective 2. She’s also coauthor, with Dorianne Laux, of The Poet’s Companion: A Guide to the Pleasures of Writing Poetry (W.W. Norton). And her new novel, My Dreams Out in the Street, has just been published by Simon & Schuster.
Addonizio’s awards include two fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts, a Guggenheim Fellowship, a Pushcart Prize, a Commonwealth Club Poetry Medal, and the John Ciardi Lifetime Achievement Award. She teaches private workshops in Oakland, CA.
Kim Addonizio on the Web: kimaddonizio.com, My Dreams Out in the Street, What Is This Thing Called Love
Cecil Vortex: When did you first start to identify yourself as a writer?
KA: I remember my first unfinished work. I wanted to write a novel when I was around nine. I wrote ten pages. It was a mystery, I think. I don’t remember why I stopped — probably because it was too hard. I remember writing a short story at fifteen and being eager to show it to my dad, who was a sportswriter.
CV: Do you remember what drew you to writing poetry?
KA: I wrote down my feelings in lines in high school and after, but it was hardly poetry. I seriously started trying to write it in my late twenties. I think poetry drew me to it — I think I was always meant to find it.
CV: How has your creative process changed since then?
And speaking of Gouda….
We spent a swell morning in the town of Gouda today, where my 9-year-old daughter offered up this memorable quote:
Daddy? I forget. Oh wait — I remember. Daddy — compared to Gouda, American cheese is vomit.
And I say, if that’s all she’s learned, this trip has been a huge success.
The longer we’re in Europe, the clearer it is that Walt Disney owes all of these countries like a bajillion dollars in copyright violations. For example…
…this lovely townhall (stadhuis) built some 600 years ago (plus or minus) all but demands to have Tinkerbell fly over the top and smack it with a sparkle-pop.
In addition to great food and beautiful buildings (and some incredible stained glass from the 1500s), Gouda reminded me that one of the best parts of revisiting spots from your childhood is finding things you didn’t even know you were looking for. I was heading back to our car to pay for another hour of parking when I came across this:
As a kid, I just loved these Dutch street organs, which we routinely found at the mall in downtown Den Haag, with someone shaking a cup of change in time to the music. I haven’t seen or heard or thought of one in decades.
Hello, old chum.
Young Gouda, I’m coming for ya….
When I was seven, my folks moved our family to Holland where we lived for the next five years. A big motivator for this trip has been my longstanding desire to make that return to wooded Wassenaar with my wife and kids — a little journey back to Narnia, to smell old smells and eat old treats.
Because I was a kid back in those days, almost all of my key food memories are snacks, and ever since we entered Belgium, I’ve been knocking items off my list like some revenge-driven dude in a Clint Eastwood flick.
Frites met (fries with mayonnaise): check.
Meat croquettes (“What’s in them? What’s in them? We don’t know!” laughed our waitress who confessed she never ate the stuff): check.
Cassis soda: check. (OK, seven Cassis sodas: check)
Poffertjes (micro-pancakes with powerdered sugar): check.
Pankoeken (crepes-like macro-pancakes): check. Stropwaffles (molasses ‘n waffel/cookie treat): check. No photos for either of these, unfortunately — they went too fast to capture.
Just about all that’s left is jonge (young) Gouda — you can get Gouda cheese in the States but it’s almost always smoked, with all the Gouda (pronounced with a Yiddish-esque “chhhh”-ouda)-ness blown out. Jonge Gouda’s a whole different taste sensation. If heaven was made of cheese, it would be thin-sliced jonge Gouda.
Jonge Gouda, I’m coming for ya….
Addendum….
Jonge Gouda: check.
Addendum to addendum…
A slower-moving stropwaffle.
Likewise, this pankoeken with kiwi was eaten in 14 seconds rather than the usual 10, giving us just enough time to snap a quick pic.
Brugge by day
Lovely afternoon on Tuesday. The highlight was a 320-step climb up that 13th Century Brugge belfry. Here’s what the tower looks like by day:
We adults were quite winded. Our 6- and 9-year olds were pretty much unaffected by gravity. They practically floated to the top. On the way down, I tried to convince my youngest that we were actually heading up to the top now and nearly there, nearly there. He seemed to almost buy it. Or at least, to buy that I bought it. Below a certain weight, gravity appears to be substantially a state of mind.
The square looked lovely from about halfway up:
The only thing marring the view was the presence of my nemesis, the Portsmouth City Youth Band Brass Ensemble. If you look closely, you’ll spot them in the bandstand. Why do they think it’s so funny to follow me around the world, performing “Theme from Goldfinger” wherever I go?
Portsmouth City Youth Band Brass Ensemble: Total. Jerks.
In other news, all the legends are true. The people of Brugge really are paved with gold:
A reasonable law
We’ve run into lots of crazy laws here in Europe. For example, did you know it’s a crime to transport livestock in a Volkswagen Passat?
This is one law I agree with, however:
The locals here in Brugge tell me it means “Please don’t wear a derby hat and shovel coal onto my lawn.” Who can argue with that?
Brugge at night
Most of today was spent racing from Colmar to Brugge — our version of the Gumball Rally (I like to think I was part of Cobra Team).
In France, every cute little village was noted with a sign by the road featuring a lovely drawing of that town’s gem — a church or a castle or the town square. While we didn’t actually see any of these cute little towns in person, we did get to see several excellent drawings of cute little towns zip by at 130 kmh.
We got to Brugge right around dinner time, with the rain suddenly starting to fall in thick, gloopy drops. Our hotel’s in the old town and, as it happens, it’s on one of those fifth dimensional side streets that you can only find by driving in reverse. After a few loops around Old Brugge in the rain playing my new favorite game (“Sidewalk or Road?”) we came in for a safe landing and lugged our luggage upstairs.
A quick dash through the downpour took us to Brugge’s spectacular market square and a great meal of mussels (a regional specialty) and shrimp croquettes here:
This building was named back in 1303.
After dinner, we didn’t particularly mind getting soaked on the way home with views like these:
The belfort dates back to the 1200s and has 47 bells, which were a’ chimin’.
A dry view of a wet town. (As an aside, my mom tells me that she went to dinner on this row years back. After they’d spent a while puzzling through where to eat, they learned that all these restaurants serve from the same kitchen.)
Colmar, Harrison Ford, and me
As I mentioned a little earlier today, we’ve driven from Switzerland and the snow to sweltering France. Crossing over (with less than a wave from the border guards) we were struck by how much the countryside in this part of France looks like good ole Northern California.
For the last two nights we’ve been staying in Colmar — a lovely Alsacean city ribboned with canals. Here’s an entirely color-inaccurate shot of the “Little Venice” part of town:
Colmar!
As also mentioned earlier today, Colmar is the proud birthplace of Bartholdi, the creator of the Statue of Liberty. Three years ago, they produced a replica that happens to be a short stroll from our hotel.
Mini-Lady Liberty directing traffic.
After a day of canal rides, street wandering, and excellent, heart-imploding food (everyone tried the escargot, including the kids — if you haven’t had ’em, they’re basically a butter/garlic delivery system, a.k.a.: yum) we escaped the brutal heat by checking out Colmar’s Museum of Toys.
I’d always heard that celebrities were much more accommodating when you run into them abroad, and that was exactly what we found with Harrison Ford, who’s so incredibly nice, he’s apparently agreed to carry a name card with him at all times.
Harrison Ford: nice guy.
It was a fantastic museum, and I’m not just talking about the air conditioning, although let me just say: Wow. That was some well-conditioned air.
A few other highlights….
This monkey broke our heart:
Sad monkey.
These fellows didn’t actually know how to play their instruments, but they more than made up for it with attitude:
Rock and roll animals.
And I’m pretty sure I’ll be having nightmares about this guy for the rest of my life:
What is this creature and why does it haunt my dreams?