Saturday, March 03, 2018

New Zealand photos

"Absent the intervention of the irascible internet demons who plague me, I will post pictures and possible commentary on my trip to NZ, updating it as we go - I hope every few days. It is going to be a 3 week whirlwind, so I will have to do it at night when I have time. If I fail, well, won't be the first time."

The above paragraph is in quotes now because I wrote it some weeks ago, before my trip began on March 6th. The two comments below were meant to taunt me a little for my failure to accomplish my goal. They make little sense unless you recognize that when made, there were no pictures, just the title and first paragraph. If you know me at all and my tribulations with the digital world, you understand - I just couldn't manage it remotely (that is, I was not on my laptop, on which I regularly work). Frankly, trying to post pictures on this blog is sometimes one of my two biggest problems with it. The other is the somewhat eccentric formatting problems that plague me repeatedly, such as irregular highlighting of some words, sentences or paragraphs, and spacing that just baffles me.

But, leave that all aside, because I now have my photos saved on my laptop and can post them. In reviewing them I am a little disappointed they do not reveal the blue or green colors as deeply as they were seen. When you got home, you immediately saw the difference. But, c'est la vie. When do pictures do justice to the view? Not with my equipment or low level of photographic skill.

I, my evalovin' gf, P, and my buddy, F, went to New Zealand in early March and stayed about three weeks. We moved a lot, rarely staying anywhere more than one day, in order to see as many of the highlights as we could on the two islands (North Island and the slightly larger South Island), separated by a straight, one a little smaller than New York and one a little larger. Naturally, we could not see everything I would have liked to, and much of the trip was just admiring the beauty as we drove.

And it was beautiful. I always feel very fortunate in having seen many beautiful places I've recounted elsewhere. But, I had a feeling that there would be more beauty condensed in New Zealand than most anywhere else (perhaps just anywhere else). The numerous magazine articles listing ten places you must go which seemed to almost always mention NZ or somewhere in it, probably sparked that belief. People I've met who have been to both Australia and NZ enjoyed both, but I think everyone told me that NZ was far superior in terms of sheer quantity and variety of beauty.

Just to make it easy for myself, I will go somewhat chronologically as we progressed, because my pictures are mostly stored in that fashion. I'm only posting a few per place though sometimes seeing many slightly different pictures of the same place enhances the experience. Of course, our own eye is far superior to any mechanism yet made by man and I did the best I could with a camera whose mirrors have been somewhat warped by water over the years. Do click on the pictures to enlarge them frequently and if whatever you are viewing these on is backlit, all the better.

We arrived at the international airport near Aukland, but made our way to Piha, a beach town where I rented our first temporary home. Piha is a little surfing town whose beach is guarded by two huge rock outposts. Our rented home (most of which were obtained through airbnb.com) was clean, but old and needed work. The owner made it clear it was a beach house. But, it was the only way I could affordably get us on this magnificent beach, where surfers entertained us in droves and the scenery was a fitting place to start.






To the south of the beach I turned a corner to get a picture and saw a distant cove. I had hoped to get to it by scaling and climbing along the wall of one of the cliffs like a lizard, though nearly vertical, to avoid the pounding waves which would have caused me to fall on the rocks. I couldn't get P or F to try to see it, and maybe it was too risky for me (it would not have been fun if I fell, nor would my camera have survived), but I push myself when I travel, though age is putting a rather steep limit on that these days. We stayed in Piha two days, but I couldn't find any other way to get to that cove. Eventually, the power of the water hitting the cliffs stopped my progress and I had to go back. The following two photos are pretty much the same view, just showing you what happens when the waves hit every few seconds. I was amazed that the surfers, seeking a current that would take them far enough offshore to catch the big waves coming in, would run barefoot past me on rocks I doubt I could even take a step on without shoes.



And then there was sunset.


At times there were dozens of surfers in the water. Servicing them seems to be the main purpose of the tiny rustic town. This was taken towards evening. They started at dawn and went until nightfall.














We visited Aukland while at Piha, but, few non-European cities I've been to excite me that much and I can't say other than Queenstown, which I'll get to later, any were that memorable to me, pretty as they were. Here's one picture in hazy light of distant Aukland, taken from a well named restaurant - Elevation Cafe.


Leaving Piha, we hiked at Kitekite Falls for a couple of hours, right outside of Piha. It was well worth it.





















From Piha, we crossed North Island from west to east (NE is Hawaii, then the U.S.) to the Cormandel Peninsula. We stayed at a town called Whiritoa, another beach town. I couldn't get a beach view, but the end of our driveway was about a ten second walk from the beach itself. Before we went there, we went to Hot Water Beach. This beach is famous for beachgoers being able, at low tide only, to dig a shallow hole in the sand and bathe in hot water. We couldn't time it right for that- you just can't do everything - but the beach itself was beautiful and a great place to stop.


There was one odd sign, which made perfect sense there (and I think was innocent), but which would have caused a racial war here from the unintended slur. If anyone thinks my posting it is racist itself, I can only say - pffft, and that the recent tendency to see racism in every mention of race, even jocularly, except in a way prescribed by the nouveau self-exalting culture warriors, is sad and deleterious to our common sense of humor.


Whiritoa (in the transliteration of Maori words, "Wh" is pronounced "Ph," which seems strange to me - why not just spell it the way it sounds to us?) was also a small town, with only one cafe and a real estate office for its commercial center. The kilometer plus long beach was also stunning, with a stream/river running right down to it.







In the morning, we had a visit from some local birds. They weren't kiwis, which are hard to find, but pukeko. 


The following day I waited on the beach for dawn. Not the best I've ever seen, but hardly shabby either. The best dawn was yet to come.


A sea-bird with white and black feathers, probably a crane or heron (evident when it took flight, although it looked like a penguin when just standing there), was doing exactly what I was, just staring at the light show. I didn't want to scare him away with my flash, but you can make him out in the pre-dawn light, especially if you click to enlarge.


Later, we went back up the Cormandel Peninsula again to Cathedral Cove, one of the signature sights on New Zealand (and used in a couple of movies, including the Narnia series). The pictures speak for themselves.















There was a strange species of sea creature on the sand everywhere there with a rubbery dark blue body (it looks more solid than it was) and what seemed like a sail on top. Someone told me the Maori name, but I cannot recall it. If you can identify this thing, let me know.



When we returned to Whiritoa, we crossed the stream, hiked through beautiful woods and came to a hidden cove. I'm a sucker for this stuff.
















The last morning there I pushed through some bushes by the beach to find the hidden stairs (sort of stairs) to ascend the large boulder overlooking the water that supposedly contained a blowhole, from which water would come shooting out at high tide. I went myself and made it most of the way. I didn't find the blowhole, but it wasn't high tide either. Eventually, it got too steep to safely climb without risk to my camera. They can always patch me up, but my camera would not be repairable.


We left Whiritoa with 4 days under our belt. We were headed on a long drive to Tongariro National Park where there is a volcano you can cross over and many walks to take, but to break the drive up, we headed first to Rotorua, sort of on the way, where there is a walk through a volcanic lake park (whatever that is), a vineyard overlooking the lake and a street named "Eat Street," which was definitely enticing to me.

We never got there. Two traffic accidents, the first a car fire supposedly causing a driver to jump into a river and the second involving multiple fatalities, so delayed us, that we finally gave up and turned around to go to the national park, which, after a spectacular drive through mountain vistas, we arrived at around dinner time. It is sometimes very difficult to get a shot of these views while you are going around a mountain on narrow twisty roads with no place to stop from inside the car, so all I have is the wonderful memories.

We stayed at a motel on the corner of a park about 13 times the size of Manhattan. The volcanos and other huge mountains were visible all around it. The crossover walk over the largest volcano takes 6-8 hours, and I'm sure P could have done it. F flatly stated that he would not even try and I knew I could no longer handle it, even though about 5 years ago I hiked 8 hours near Sedona in Arizona. Age just keeps on coming and few people I know don't seem to feel its effects. So, we opted for one twenty minute walk followed by a two hour one. The first took you to what is called Gollum's pool, from The Lord of the Rings movie made here. It did lead to a beautiful waterfall (which did not look like the pool in the movie absent the Hollywood effects) and some nice overlooks.


The second walk, 2 hours long, was a lot harder, but with many more beautiful views. I particularly liked the way the clouds gathered around the volcano, eventually hiding it.
















And a much more exciting waterfall than Gollum's pool.



From the park, we took off for a long ride to the south of North Island, Wellington. Wellington is a nice port city sitting in a large cove, from which ferries take off for South Island.


The ferry ride is billed as one of the great ones of the world. I've taken a handful of ferries, including a couple in the Mediterranean and none could touch this for its startling beauty, most of all as you get near South Island. Dozens of people are running around the deck snapping pictures everywhere, including me.



























You end up in Picton on the S. Island, which, though a tourist town with a lot of little shops, is quite lovely in its mountainous setting in the harbor. 


We only had lunch and left as we were coming back in two weeks to head back to N. Island. But, after those views, I looked forward to it. We spent our first night on South Island in a town also on the northern coast called Nelson and from there we went to Greymouth on the West coast near the glacier to which we were headed. They are very nice shore towns where we could have dinner on the waterfront (Greymouth, I read, is fading, but I didn't see that when I was there), but I have to cut somewhere and given what is coming up, they are it.

There are hundreds of glaciers in New Zealand. Fox and Franz Josef are the most famous. We went to the latter. The small town at the foot of the glacier is filled with hotels and restaurants. But, it is very laid back. There are amazing views whichever way you turn.
















But those views would turn out to be nothing compared to what was coming. It was very cloudy and the helicopters were not dropping people off on the glacier. We were very disappointed but were told to come back the following morning to see if it was clear enough. So, instead of taking the helicopter to the glacier, we walked to it, or as close as you can get (a few years ago, before the tip fell off, you could walk right up to it). So, we hiked up the long trail with many others to the foot of the glacier.



Perhaps the glacier, or that part of it, doesn't look all that big, but it is. We were still quite a distance away and I had a decent zoom lens. Of course, there were waterfalls along the way and a river that was oatmealish or even concrete in color from the glacial runoff.




The next morning we went back to the center and were delighted to find we made the cut. It was no sure thing as weeks can go by with the helicopters grounded and we had to leave for the next stop if we didn't get to go almost immediately. It was worth the wait, as the day was much more pleasant. We were given winter clothing including crampons for our boots to walk on ice, walked through and tropical forest and got on the copter.























That's P in the bottom picture squeezing through a crevice. I'm almost twice her size, almost at the size limit for those they will let go on the tour at all, because you will literally get stuck if you are too big and I'm sure the guides would rather not frantically cut you out before the walls close up. In a few places I really had to squeeze and one time I momentarily thought "uh oh," before sliding through like a piece of playdough with an assist from both sides. The translucent blue of the ice was explained to us (ummm. . . yeah, something about light and time; frankly, I've seen that same iridescence during hikes in the woods in fresh snowfall, so I'm not sure I'm buying it). In any event, it was something to behold.

All three of us later agreed this three hour tour was the highlight of an awesome trip. But, not by much. After the glacier walk we had a long drive down to Queenstown, the most scenic and fun city in NZ. Our rented home was the most spectacular we stayed in (I was told by F that I overused the word, but he tends to be a critical of me about most everything. But, could be he's right. In any event, I tried to expand my adjectives thereafter). Queenstown sits on a large lake, surrounded by mountains. It is a party town, with lots of places to eat, though one of them, on our way out a few days later was McDonalds (not my idea, but yahoo).



We stayed two days in Queenstown, but the first full day was spent on a tour to probably the most famous place in New Zealand, tourism-wise, often seen on covers, Milford Sound. We had to take a four hour bus ride with a guide to get there, a three hour tour, and then four hours back, but all eleven hours were mesmerizing, even though - even though - the cruise was mostly in pouring rain.

We left from Queenstown at 6:30 a.m. Our guide, Ryan, a nice young former artist with a very understated style drove us through a mountain range named the Remarkables, because they run so straight north and south, and said, for those awake, he hoped we had a fiery dawn. I'm pretty sure only he and I were awake to see it, but it was fiery. I took what I could from the moving bus.


















While I won't deny it would have been nice to have a half hour of blue water and sky on the cruise itself, the towering mountains lining the sound were very dramatic in the clouds and mists. I actually forgot my camera, but I've come to realize, except for shots requiring a zoom lens, my cellphone is a superior camera. Just a few years of technology makes the difference.















There was one whale I saw breach in the distance which I didn't get a snap off of, and there was a pod of dolphins running alongside the ship. There are few sights in nature as much fun as that.




Back in Queenstown, we had yet another dinner on the waterfront and got ready for the ride back in our own car toward Fiordland to a town called Te Anau, another beautiful town on a lake, this one catering to tourists going on cruises. New Zealand does it right. Nothing looks like the tourist hells such as in Lake George, NY. Everything is human-sized, relatively quiet and understated. The next morning we drove to a neighboring town, much quieter still - Manipouri, which I instinctively preferred.















I'm not even sure there was a hotel there. But there was a dock for a boat to another bus to a ferry, which took you out on the slightly lesser known Doubtful Sound, where the cliffs weren't as steep as at Milford Sound, but the views were also stunning. Even the bus ride to the cruise was dramatic. This cruise was also done in pouring rain the entire time, but the result was literally thousands of waterfalls cascading down the mountainsides. When I lived in Virginia I would drive or walk hours to see just one waterfall. Here were thousands, though most would disappear when the rain stopped (and it could be weeks - the entire area is a rain forest). I am pretty sure on this day I saw more waterfalls than in my entire life heretofore. They don't tell you when you book the cruises, most of them are in the rain. According to the "voice" on the cruise, they tried to film some scenes from Jurassic Park here (I did verify this is at least repeated online), but after a month of rain, gave up.
















With the two cruises done, we started the long ride north towards the inter-island ferry. But, the fantastic sight-seeing wasn't over as we stopped at various lakes along the way and one farm. Even with continuous rain this last week, it was still wonderful.

Our first stop, after a picturesque vineyard for my wine-loving friends -















was Wanaka (yes, another town on a lake surrounded by mountains - it doesn't get old when they are this pretty). Wanaka is beautiful, but somehow most well known for the little tree growing in the lake for 70 years, just a little offshore.














It was serene. We continued on past Lake Putaki, with glacial waters so unusually clear blue that they won't let you build there or put a boat in the water. Even on Google Earth you can see the difference between its waters and the still gorgeous waters of neighboring lakes. Unfortunately, it is so blue that my camera cannot do it justice and I can't bring myself to touch it up.















Mount Cook is in the background, part of a chain of snow covered mountains that went on forever, but what my eye could see the camera could not recognize. 

From Putaki we went to neighboring Lake Tekapo, which, if slightly less remarkable, was almost as beautiful, the water yet so clear that when I focused my camera just on it from a bridge, with nothing in the background, the lens went to infinity and would not take the shot. I had to lock the focus on the footbridge (first picture) and then use that setting to take the shot of the pure water. The amazing thing is that these beautiful blue/greens were taken under a completely overcast sky. We will have to imagine what it looks like with a bright blue sky to reflect. The thought is dazzling.


We didn't sleep at Tekapo either, but continued into a mountain pass where our hosts keep a 1500 acre farm with 2500 head of cattle and several hundred sheep. It was solemn, fun, peaceful and spiritual all at once. I'd love to go back and spend more time at all these places, but for some reason, especially the farm. P and I took a walk and saw noisy black, white and teal colored geese-like birds, just getting ready to make their way back to Australia, I'm told, in addition to the ubiquitous black and white magpies (I was disgruntled that F, who has little interest in birds, had seen them in Asia and knew they were magpies when I didn't - dammit!).







It was in a mountain pass in their Southern Alps, so not surprisingly it was surrounded by snow covered mountains too. In the morning, it was a little clearer and I could get some pictures.


























It was a long drive to Christchurch from there. Christchurch is a city, which doesn't interest me much to begin with, but it was partially destroyed by an earthquake a few years back and it rained the whole time we were there, and it was probably the least interesting part of our trip, even if we had to pass through some fantastic scenery to get there. It was, I admit, a relief to finally be on some straight roads in the plains, which is duller but much easier. We had been driving in mountains for about two and a half weeks, and though magnificent, it's a lot more tiring than just driving down a straight road. I don't think I took any pictures of Christchurch other than of the lovely little house we stayed in.

We left the next morning to go back to Picton for the ferry, but we stopped in Kaikoura, where the skies lifted for an hour for us and was another highlight of the trip for the views and the seal colony on the rocky shore. They have whales, albatross and dolphins too, but we didn't see them. Still, I took close to a hundred pictures worth viewing, and it was hard to select a few. It's a really pretty place.




















Almost done. We ended up in Picton. I hadn't thought much of the town itself despite its dramatic surroundings the first time we were there for perhaps an hour, but I grew to appreciate how tastefully they did the small town servicing the ferries. And the scenery was even more beautiful than I remembered. So, too the trip out through Cook Straight the next day. I feel so "blessed" to see all this I can't express it enough. It's not that it is prettier than many other places I've been to in Europe, the Caribbean, out west in the states or at my beloved Bluff 15 minutes from my house, but it is the most densely packed beauty I've ever seen in a country. Almost every turn of the head is marvellous to behold. I admit, though I absolutely realize it is egocentric, I feel bad for those who do not appreciate nature the way I do (probably almost everyone), the same way I suppose some religious people have told me they feel bad for me for not believing in God. Maybe they are right. How would I know? But I think the feeling I get when I am in the midst of natural beauty is akin to the rapture they feel contemplating their religious beliefs, even if I have never felt that at all.















Back in Wellington, we stayed just outside the city in a house in a neighborhood called Lower Hutt, for the river that runs through it. There are great night time views of Wellington lit up from the shore. The next day was the beginning of our long day and a half travel home, but before heading to the airport we took a short walk to a waterfall that let me know my legs were done. It was a little ironic, given the massive amount of falling water we recently encountered. Even though it was a single spill of water, paltry compared to the tons I had seen careening off cliffs less than a week before, it was still really pretty and I could walk right up to it. A star-filled sky is awe-inspiring, but a single star can be beautiful too and inspiring in its own solitary way. Which leads to the possibly totally unimportant question - what's more beautiful, a thousand waterfalls or one?



I walked into a cave, perhaps 20 feet deep, led by the electronic torch on my phone and took this picture looking out that could be the cover of a book on alien visitation.



We also made the last stop in Wellington for a brief spell to walk about and have a bite, but after a few minutes, I realized my legs were done, done, done and I finally just sat near the meeting place and waited for P and F who thought they'd shop, but walked off course without my Daniel Boone like guidance (actually, neither could access the internet on their phones and are severely directionally challenged). I always find shorelines more to my taste than retail districts. We had lunch, bought some stuff in a Maori inspired store and then went to the airport.

I haven't given the human side to our trip, just showed you pictures with a little commentary. Naturally, there was a lot of driving - possibly 2500 miles in just under 3 weeks, long and agonizing plane rides, good-natured disagreements over the use of GPS (I use it as a map and a tool, but not the voice - say "me too" if you hate the voice as well), lots of laughs and far too many heavy meals.

My goal was to see as much as I could as was beautiful in three weeks, realizing that there is always more and that I would not likely be back (though I said that's more than enough the first time I went to Dallas and I've been there 4 times now). I had to push two others as fast as I thought they would stand, not knowing what was ahead, but they seemed very satisfied (I estimate that they drank about 40 bottles of wine between them and that might be part of the reason).

I did not visit Hobbiton or take a Lord of the Rings tour (though it is easy to see why they filmed here - Tolkien would have felt at home), go to a museum, visit the Maoris (although their culture is infused in everything), see any kiwi birds, eat any kiwi fruit (really gooseberry), which I know is one of the few foods I actively dislike or spend more than a little time speaking with the Kiwis themselves (what NZers call themselves). Mostly I was there for nature and the rewards were enormous. I have been asked by a few curmudgeons to cut down on the Thoreau posts here, but I can't help but quote a line or so from one of his journal entries (July, 1941):

"A slight sound at evening lifts me up by the ears, and makes life seem inexpressibly serene and grand. It may be in Uranus or it may be in the shutter."

In New Zealand it is in virtually everything.







Sunday, February 25, 2018

See you in church and other stuff I say that someone else said first

I have been told by a few people - enough Thoreau. Okay - for a while. But, as that great American hero, Rocky the Flying Squirrel, used to say - "Now here's something we hope you'll really like":

See you in church.

The following section is written in Runyonese:

I am speaking with a friend on the phone. We are getting up to saying goodbye, and he says to me, "Now you say your favorite line."
"What is that?" I am asking.
"You know."
"'May I have another piece of pie?'"
"No."
"See you in church?"
"This is it."
I do not figure this particular friend would notice that when I say goodbye to someone, "See you in church," is what comes out of my mouth. I know a lot of people know it, but I do not think he is one of them. He is not that type to notice something like this. I am not remembering that I ever say it to him. But, apparently, I say it a lot.

It is roughly 27 years earlier. I am raising my evalovin' daughter. Sometimes we watch videotapes. She loves Shirley Temple movies. I do not want to spend a lot of time on who Shirley Temple is. If you do not know, you can google it. In short, she is a child actress in the 1930s and 1940s, cute as a button, smart as a whip and brave as a lion, to use up my quota of cliches for the day. She is the star in a lot of films playing a girl in peril, often at the hands of her own family. She is usually portraying an orphan. She is so famous that she is considered for the role of Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, although it is probably never as close as she and her mother hope as she is not a progidy for her pipes but for her inflection and overall adorableness. Probably her most famous movie is Heidi (1937) and after that Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm (1938). She retires from movies in 1949, but does a little television in the late '50s and '60s (thank you IMDB), tap dancing her way to heaven in 2014 at age 95, no doubt accompanied by Bill "Bojangles" Robinson, who has come down to earth to guide her upstairs to the pearly gates.

Just as Shirley Temple, the child, cannot get enough of The Wizard of Oz books, my daughter cannot get enough of Shirley Temple, the child actress. My kid has curly blondish hair as a young girl and resembles Shirley a little. But, I do not think this is the attraction. I never see her pretending to be Shirley. She just thinks they are great movies as does her evalovin' father. At least the few I see are. I can not myself believe that I will sit there and watch them over and over with her, but I really enjoy them too.

In Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm, Shirley plays an orphan with a singing talent. When her Uncle Harry, played by the great William Demarest, most famous for the role of Uncle Charlie on My Three Sons, thinks he cannot make money off of her, as she is faking not being able to sing, he drops her off at Aunt Miranda's house. Miranda is much nicer, but not the showbiz type. Harry is kind of a ne'er do well, and a bit lacking in morals, though not entirely evil. His wife, Melba, is just a bitch. When Harry leaves the house after handing Rebecca over, he turns to everyone and says -- "See you folks in church."

This may not seem like the funniest line in the world to you, but, when Henry says it, he is being sarcastic, because you know you are not about to run into Henry in church on a Sunday morning when he is likely sleeping it off. As he steps out on the porch, he trods on a loose plank, which rises up and hits him square in the face. Hysterical. Cannot see it enough.

Anyway, one day, I am leaving someone, or maybe saying good-bye on the telephone - the melon that contains my brain will not release the exact circumstances, and I say, "See you in church." Or maybe "See you folks in church," like Uncle Henry did. I find it very funny, because you are not about to see me in church either. It occurs to me that I say this to many people over the last 26 or 27 years. I am not a big fan of tag or catch-lines, though writing this, I realize I have a few. I remember thinking that I hate the character in the movie It's a Wonderful Life who goes around saying "hee haw" all the time. I cannot imagine why anyone would enjoy something like that, but I will be damned if I do not do it too.

Well, I try to stop, but it does not work. I say it over and over and over and over. I can not stop. I try several times. But, I say it even to judges, if I am not careful, and other times where being colloquial is a little out of place. I am not saying this is alarming or that it harms me or others in any particular way, but occasionally I am a little concerned that people will find it tedious (other than my evalovin' girlfriend, who finds everything I do tedious and rarely funny).

But, people say it back to me so often and others just laugh. People now say it to me as much as I say it to them. One friend sends emails to me ending with "SYIC." Some kids find it hysterical and cannot wait to say it to me before I say it. I may be wrong, but I think most people like it (except my evalovin' gf, who . . . ).

I am not the evalovin' creator of the phrase. I tell people this, but they are not listening. The writer is likely Don Ettlinger and/or Karl Tunberg, who write the screenplay for Rebecca . . . or Kate Douglas Wiggin, who is the writer of the original novel, may they all rest in piece. I am not planning on losing a Sunday researching this. I just find it funny and adopt it. Now, I'm known by it, at least by some people. Apparently, even by people who I would not think would ever notice.

And that is that.

Piece of cake

I think I was 25 when I first visited Europe. I was a backpacker and stayed in hostels or really cheap hotels. But, when I went to Sweden I found myself suddenly alluring to women, which, trust me, has never happened before outside of my evalovin' noggin. You can release your breath and take the look of disgust off your face as I don't plan on describing any of it. It had to be the dark hair - relative to the Swedes - and an American thing, because I've met other men who've gone there and experienced something similar. I don't know if this is still going on there, but it was a rather well-known effect when I was younger, and in fact, a religious studies professor (you read that right) in college actually advised all the young men in my class to go to Sweden before they married. Imagine a professor saying that today. Poof, he'd be gone. I realize all this background isn't really necessary for the story, but it just felt good to reminisce about it and I guess I wanted to say it out loud because pretty much nobody is looking now and memories are sweet. Anyway . . .

I was walking down the road after a romantic encounter with my backpack and a car suddenly stopped. A young woman, maybe a few years younger than me, made her ex-boyfriend stop the car to pick me up. Yes, it sounds like a movie, only the protagonist in real movie would look more like Cary Grant, but that was exactly what happened. I ended up spending a few days with her and her friends (her former boyfriend was not at all put out), all roughly around my age, and most of whom spoke English to one degree or another, which they had learned mostly from tv. The first night we were sitting around in their living room and they were asking me questions about Americans and I was asking them about topless Swedish women (I did say I was about 25). At some point, in response to something or other, I blurted out, "piece of cake." In other words, "it's easy." Well, let me tell you, Robin Williams or Richard Pryor would have been happy to get this response. They were literally (not the "literally" which means figuratively, but the one that means - they actually did that) falling out of their seats. "Piece of cake," they kept repeating. And they repeated it for the next four days until I left. It's a purely American expression. I've learned a bit about it since then but decided not to bore you with its derivation except to say a wonderfully amusing poet I grew up on - Ogden Nash, figures into it. They even taught me to say it in Swedish, which I never forgot, although I do not know how to spell it - something like "en bate calkye."

I have always said that if "piece of cake" became an expression in Sweden, it was solely due to my having blurted it out over there. Of course, how would I ever know if it happened? Well, skip ahead to just last year, about 33 years later. I had recently started communicating again with a friend in Sweden I had met on my next trip to Europe a year or so later to the former Yugoslavia, but had lost touch with for decades. I wrote her my "piece of cake" story. She wrote back that it had become an expression there but in English - not Swedish. If I could find the card she wrote, I'd quote from it, but, I delayed 2 weeks posting this while I looked and absorbed snarls from my evalovin' gf that if I'd just straighten up I could find things.

Now, shut up, I already know what you are thinking. I can't know for sure that I am actually responsible for people saying "piece of cake" in English in Sweden. But, it does seem strange to me that I always thought it would catch on there and it did. They did not have the expression when I visited and do now. Maybe I'm not responsible. Could be they all got it from a movie or a tv show. I'm going to assume I am the reason because it makes me feel good and who does it hurt? Let me have it. It's not like I'm claiming to have cured cancer.

And that is that.

Evalovin'

I notice I also say evalovin' a lot. Maybe I write it more than I say it. I usually append it to my girlfriend of 8 million years - as in, "my evalovin' gf," who I sometimes write about here due to her felicity with mangling metaphors. But, sometimes I use it for other things and people.

I didn't make "evalovin'" up any more than I did "see you in church." I think I got evalovin' from a long dead writer who, for all I know, may have known Shirley Temple personally, as he wrote the short story upon which was based a movie she starred in- Little Miss Marker. Maybe he got it from somewhere else.

The writer, Damon Runyon, was a colorful and talented character. He was actually a sports writer who is often credited with changing the way baseball was covered, by writing more about the athletes than the athletics, and is in both the baseball and boxing Halls of Fame as a writer. But, he also wrote light-hearted and engaging short stories about gangsters and wannabes, the most famous of which, The Idyll of Miss Sarah Brown, became the blockbuster musical, Guys and Dolls.

Actually, until an editor dropped his first name in a by-line one day and a typo changed his last name, he was just plain Alfred Damon Runyan, which sounds more like your middle-aged neighbor with a paunch who exposes his rear end when he bends down to get the paper every morning (which my evalovin' gf falsely accuses me of relentlessly - how dare she). But, Damon - his mother's maiden and his middle name - ran with a fast crowd, was a gambler, a drinker (until he gave it up) and smoker whose best friend, Otto Berman, was actually gunned down along with his boss, Dutch Schultz - about as nasty a gangster as there was at the time.

I don't think Runyon wrote any novels, just short stories, which you can get in collections. Not too many people read him anymore, but they should because everything he wrote was original and fun. He had his own literary style called Runyonese, which Wikipedia describes as: "a mixture of formal speech and colorful slang, almost always in present tense, and always devoid of contractions."  I expect someone other than the Wiki writer came up with that analysis, but there's no cite.  Read the See you in church segment above again to see what I mean, although I do not have his ear for colorful slang. And if you've ever seen "Guys and Dolls," (and I hope so, on account it is the greatest musical ever made) you've heard it too. This is my favorite bit from the story, which was used in the movie and spoken by Marlon Brando as Guy Masterson, fairly similar to the way Runyon originally wrote it:

"On the day when I left home to make my way in the world, my daddy took me to one side. “Son,” my daddy says to me: I am sorry I am not able to bankroll you to a very large start, but not having the necessary lettuce to get you rolling, instead I’m going to stake you to some very valuable advice. One of these days in your travels, a guy is going to show you a brand new deck of cards on which the seal is not yet broken. Then this guy is going to offer to bet you that he can make the jack of spades jump out of this brand new deck of cards and squirt cider in your ear. But, son, do not accept this bet, because as sure as you stand there, you’re going to wind up with an ear full of cider.”

Runyon gave Jim Braddock the moniker "Cinderella Man" and his "Hooray Henry," became a name in Britain given to describe a certain type of bloke - Donald Trump would now fit the description. In any event, Runyon liked to describe women, in particular, as "ever loving." I liked it, adopted it as evalovin', which I'm sure I saw somewhere else. I can find no sign of it on the internet (feel free to try and report if you have a link) - but it may have also been partially derived from a Marvel Comics character, Ben Grimm from The Fantastic 4, aka The Thing, who was a Runyonesque character if there ever was one, although he said "ever lovin', which is not exactly the same. I feel pretty sure, actually positive, that I read the form "evalovin'" somewhere, but can't remember where. I just like it.

And that is that.

Righteo

Along time ago I also started saying and writing "righteo," to people. I know exactly where I got that from. The great cartoon character Felix the Cat used to say it. I remember Felix from my early childhood. I probably saw re-runs because Wikipedia tells me it ended in 1961 when I was two. I don't remember why Felix would say "righteo," but I use it when I want to express emphatic agreement with something either unimportant or which really doesn't call for a response.

"See you later," someone might write. And I'll respond - "Righteo!" Or "Can you handle that for me?" "Righteo!"

Felix had a magic bag of tricks from which he could pull out all kinds of things: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JaMTIqhSjNc
Unless you are 5 years old, skip to the end of that for when Felix says "Righteo!" I try to use the same intonation when I say it, even though it must seem bizarre to anyone not familiar with Felix.

Occasionally I will say "I know - I'll use my magic bag of tricks," or something like that in Felix's voice too. I wish I had a magic bag of tricks. They definitely came in handy for Felix.

As with "see you in church," I don't know why I like to say "righteo" either. I just do.

And that is that.

No worries

Unlike "See you in church" or "righteo," there is probably a reason I so often write "no worries" to people in response to any suggestion that there might be some small thing to worry about, either because I did someone a favor they are concerned about or they will have to get back to me later after doing whatever it is that they have to do - really just about anything that might incur worry.

The "reason" would seem to be my own dislike of people worrying over small things, particularly if I'm even tangentially involved. So, I worry about people worrying, which is maybe the same thing. I don't have to tell you I didn't invent this expression, but, I do notice when I write it to someone else, they often start writing it back. Something about the expression that makes it pleasant to use.

Back in the day, I used to say "Hakunah matata," which as anyone who ever saw The Lion King knows, basically means "no worries" too. According to Wikipedia, it technically means something like "there are no problems present here." As the song goes, however, "♪It means no worries for the rest of your days.♬" The musical notation is mine, but the words and music are from some brilliant Disney composers - Elton John and Tim Rice.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nbY_aP-alkw.

I just listened to that a couple of times, just for old times sake. Still good. 

And that is that.

See you in church.

About Me

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I started this blog in September, 2006. Mostly, it is where I can talk about things that interest me, which I otherwise don't get to do all that much, about some remarkable people who should not be forgotten, philosophy and theories (like Don Foster's on who wrote A Visit From St. Nicholas and my own on whether Santa is mostly derived from a Norse god) and analysis of issues that concern me. Often it is about books. I try to quote accurately and to say when I am paraphrasing (more and more). Sometimes I blow the first name of even very famous people, often entertainers. I'm much better at history, but once in a while I see I have written something I later learned was not true. Sometimes I fix them, sometimes not. My worst mistake was writing that Beethoven went blind, when he actually went deaf. Feel free to point out an error. I either leave in the mistake, or, if I clean it up, the comment pointing it out. From time to time I do clean up grammar in old posts as, over time I have become more conventional in my grammar, and I very often write these when I am falling asleep and just make dumb mistakes. It be nice to have an editor, but . . . .