I Am Not An Expert But I Am A Privileged White Male, So Watch Me Bloviate Anyway Because, You Know, White Man = Expert

     . . . .Too long, don't read this rant following ☭  ☭  ☭: but Kristof made me do it.

Imagine oneself Cuban, reading Nicholas Kristof's latest excrescence in the NY Times. The colonial, imperialist, white supremacist mindset permeates him, and he doesn't even know it. He actually thinks he's being nice and progressive about Cuba.

https://www.nytimes.com/2019/01/23/opinion/cuba-embargo.html?

This is why the United States (and England too) is a lurching, dysfunctional, chaotic, violent monster of gigantic destruction to itself and everything else. 

"I'm Not An Expert (nor does he even speak Spanish) BUT Listen to ME!!!!!!!! Tell Everybody All About Cuba." Bloviates Nicolas Kristof: 

  Quote

"....It’s simply a tired little country ..."

This, right at the top of his blowharding in the prestigious New York Times, reveals Kristof's profound ignorance of what is going on in Cuba -- he's never have written that if he went dancing Cubans, of any and all ages, or listened to Cubans making music, or spent time with them getting up every day to dress their kids as nicely as possible, figure out how to solve yet more shortage or invent yet another work-around, exchange tech expertise for pay, providing goods and services, doing a cattle round-up, make chocolate -- organic chocolate on organic, diversified beautiful farms, by hand, as well as raising, organically, the other two crops that naturally occur together, coffee and coconuts, as well as poultry, pigs, cattle, horses -- and, further run by a consortium of women, of all ages and colors, who love their machetes -- they give their machetes names -- and use them with great expertise -- and they don't look in the least like a cliche of what a farm woman or agriculture worker looks like.

If Kristof had any meaningful contact with Cuba beyond a service situation he would NEVER have called Cuba "a tired little country." Cubans have more energy than anybody in the USA, other than immigrants like the Haitians, and certainly a lot more than anybody currently in the White House or trying to be POTUS. 

It's not merely an ignorant observation, it's insulting, in the way one would expect from a privileged, comfortable old white guy who isn't an expert but is gonna tell people anyway -- even when the people he's telling know profoundly more about it than he does. 

 Quote

"Let’s make room for nuance: Cuba impoverishes its citizens and denies them political rights, but it does a good job providing basic education and keeping people healthy. As I noted in my last column, on Cuba’s health care system, Cuba’s official infant mortality rate is lower than America’s (its real rate may or may not be).

 
I’m not a Cuba expert, but ... "

However, Kristof is a privileged white male in very comfortable circumstances so he's gonna tell the USA what is what about what he doesn't know anything about, and all will read  his awesome brilliance and be in awe of of his awesomeness who went to Havana that one time -- and he shall be well paid. Don't bother looking out for somebody who does know and could tell us what we might want or even need to know. And who speaks Spanish.

Moreover, Kristof proves to have never met a cliche he won't seize on without thinking about it or investigating what is behind the cliche -- one that everybody invokes who is not an expert either, the cliche that everybody includes in every repetitive same-samey piece they all write about the subject of Cuba. (Who will bet against me that when Kristof writes or talks about New Orleans, he uses the dreaded hoary 'gumbo' cliche?) 

  Quote

"Plus, extra credit goes to a country that so lovingly preserves old American cars. I rode in from the airport in a pink 1954 Cadillac."

He has no idea that this pink Cadillac's body (all the rest of it was pillaged to get something else running for a little while) has rusted for decades without an engine, but is now running because the state fairly recently imported a large number of diesel fuel burning engines that those with these useless cars rushed to install in order to drive around ignorant old white guys who boast of riding in a pink Cadillac and further pollute beautiful Havana. It wasn't lovingly preserved, but created, with parts and paint the owner somehow managed to wangle recently from outside of Cuba.

People visiting their Cuban friends and family commonly bring in shock absorbers, fuel pumps and all sorts of parts even for vehicles much more recently manufactured than a 1954 pink Cadillac, such as Toyotas.  But he doesn't know that  Why?  If he'd asked, you know, he would have known. Responsible journalism, hello?

The following is the most infuriating bit, the most insulting bit. Kristof literally cannot imagine Cuba and Cubans existing in any way in the future except as in its previous relationship to the US when the US corporations and the mafia owned the whole damned island -- as a servant class to rich white old white Americans. Caregivers. Servants. Cooks, Cleaners. Gads, this is disgusting. He hasn't met any of the dynamic, innovative Cuban professionals. Just for one example of what he can't imagine is just at the end of this last year, a Hollywood production team came to Havana where they met with all sorts of agencies and people who work in television and film there. The Hollywood people were agreeably impressed with their knowledge, experience, record and creativity. But great economics white US guy can't think that there could be fine investment opportunity in film and tv production facilities in Cuba.  Nope. Cubans must clean up the vomit and shyte of tourists and elderly retired people. Who are rich, white USians.

  Quote

".... Some American seniors who now winter in Florida could become snowbirds in Cuba instead, relying on its health care, low prices, great beaches and cheap labor. You can hire a home health care aide for a month in Havana for the cost of one for a day in Florida...."

Cheap labor yay! That's what we can do with Cuba!  

Additionally this will help keep immigrants out who traditionally are supposed to be doing this work since we'll be outsourcing to Cuba our rich elderly family without the voting crisis of letting in to the USA people, who aren't, you know, white -- people, who work harder than privileged white men like Kristof can begin to imagine, to improve their families' futures and become US citizens -- and voters! which is the ruling class of the USA's worst nightmare. Total win-win for us, YAY!

You know Cubans are not thrilled about returning to their historic status as servant class to clean up the incontinent messes of rich old white guys of the USA. Additionally, they are already doing this for the elderly members of their families -- who live with them, not in retirement homes, where US prosperous ilks foist off the care for their elderly upon immigrants and others they assume are too stupid to do anything else, and should be GRATEFUL for this really low-paying, really difficult and exhausting work, while facing imprisonment and deportation any old time. But he, as an old white guy of privilege, demonstrates he literally cannot think of Cubans as deserving or capable of being anything more than  'servant' and providing 'service.' 

Has he noticed how much of the island's population is not white? Who does he think made the Cuban Revolution? Who does he think the Revolution served? Does he believe they have put up with everything the Cubans have had to put up with throughout their history and struggled to overcome throughout their history in order to -- raise their kids for the opportunity of cleaning his white bottom when he's old and drooling? What does he know about the great Cuban Revolutionary leaders such as Lt. General José Antonio de la Caridad Maceo y Grajales in Cuba's history of fighting for the abolition of slavery and independence, and the position of the US in those struggles? Clue, here:

The US was NOT in favor of the abolition of slavery in Cuba -- and opposed over the 19th century to various of Cuba's struggles for independence from Spain, because independent from Spain, Cuba would abolish slavery -- so the USA intervened with its big stick.  Can't have free black people by golly. Our slaves would run away to Cuba instead of us being able to sell our overpopulation of slaves to Cuba where the sugar industry would kill them in 10 years -- very profitable for us, that, yessirree bob! 

In the meantime, while Kristof mourns that the orange nazi (and the mummies of Florida like Rubio) want to roll back the baseball players deal, he hasn't noticed that the orange nazi and his mafia have sold Cuba to Putin and his mafia. The Russians are everywhere in Cuba again, providing building materials, industrial products from elevators to tractors, while the Russian oligarchs anchor their yachts in Cuba's Caribbean ports. Orange nazi feels right at home with yachts of course (or does he get seasick?) while giving not a ripe fart for baseball. 

My gawd, everything clown Kistof did not notice, that was right in front of his face, but he didn't see, blissing out on pink Cadillacs and cheap servants. 

     . . . . Holy Cow! 

Greetings -- not from Cooba, but a Hampton Inn in Ft. Lauderdale. 

Got in from Holguín this morning. The Postmambo Travelers continued on their various home journeys. El V and I have processed to a Hampton Inn, with airport shuttle service, laundry facilities, and just fine wifi in the room. This is a suite, though. We got a complementary upgrade on our reservation for some reason. 

El V's washing clothes, as he goes to Havana tomorrow. I'm waiting until I get home, and hoping that the laundry facilities haven't been shut down for some kind of renovation or something. Pulling all the packing back together again seems more than I can handle right now. Seriously, and I mean seriously, short of sleep. Haven't had caffeine or breakfast today yet either (it's noon). I wasn't ready for either of them, served especially for us, by the swimming pool at 6:30 AM at the beautiful soviet era Hotel Pernik. Breakfast doesn't start officially until 7 AM, but this is what we get with our Amistur Cuba guide, Jesús, and his pull . . . . 

I was online once only, for about 10 minutes, on the 5th, but that is it. 

Another adventure completed, another adventure with the most wonderful and adventurous people. This, despite, one-by-one, every single member of the group, went down to some mysterious but awful bug that lasted at least two days. The only people who didn't were Nan, a beautiful dancer from California who is 68 but looks about 50 at most, and young J (his dad M, came from Albuquerque to travel with his son and with el V -- he's a mad drummer), who, as the director of the Sarah Lawrence College Cuban Studies program, has lived here by now for three years -- and, you won't believe this! -- me! So I'll probably go down tonight or the moment I get home. 

My flight to LaGuardia is around 11 AM tomorrow; B's meeting me to help with the baggage. 

Whew! we did it. The Travelers are very pleased. This is particularly so for the woman whose life partner is now in assisted living due to Alzheimer's. For years they traveled together all over, often, for their own pleasure and because of work (they were an award-winning television advertising video team throughout the 70's, 80's and 90's).  This made her a bit weepy at the start, that she was taking a break for herself (his kids are taking care of matters while she's away), without him because he'd love it so. But after about 5 days, she was laughing, cracking jokes and, she said, feeling like herself again. She also looked about 15 years younger than when she joined us. We could see in front of our own eyes the healing power of being away from all of it for a while, including the internet.

Visions of granola and tea dance in my head!  Also, how strange, to be looking at screen again after so long away from that as well as everything else.

So glad to be going home. This trip was, against expectation, harder the previous Postmambo Oriente trip. 

One of the reasons was that somebody (excluding the brilliant bus driver, Julio, tour guide Jesús, N,  J, and me, was always sick, and unpleasantly so. Thank goodness we spent most of this trip based in the Hotel Meliá Santiago, so people could crash out in a dark, cool, comfortable room, and not have to sit on a bus with serious stomach upset and fatigue.

The second reason is that it was unexpectedly hot, even for this part of Cuba, in January. Last Postmambo Oriente trip, it rained all the time, which evidently cooled things off, despite it being later in the season -- March.  In western Cuba it has been getting down to low 60's every night, and even the 50's. It was nearly 90 everyday where were were, brilliant sunshine, beautiful nights, but the days were very hot and humid.  

The third reason was that we had more elderly Travelers -- all very fit for their age, very experienced even with nature adventure travel, spending long weeks in Mongolian yerts (the coldest thing anybody can do), living in Asia and traveling around everywhere from Russia and China, to Malaysia and Vietnam, as well as Mexico and Africa. They were game as heck. But getting sick, and the heat and the humidity did take its toll on them

I judged by previous experience, so in packing I got some of it wrong. That Oriente trip of 2017, like last year's Central Cuba trip and the 2016 western Cuba trip, were quite cool. So I put in more warm clothes, none of which I used until dressing for the last dinner at a restaurant that was open air, last night, when the temps in Holguín province fell into the 60's.

I had packed a dozen identical Ann Taylor loft white t-shirts, plus three other t-shirts. I wore them all, as well as the more dressy blouses and shirts for the evenings. All my underwear except for what I need tomorrow is dirty laundry.. I should have packed more t-shirts and underwear, while leaving out  the long sleeved shirts and the light sweater and shawls.

But I did use my flashlight -- even had it with me when we ladies needed it at a baño break to see where we were going. The flashlight passed along our line in the dark informing us of our progress toward relief . . . .

My three hand fans were indispensable.  I loaned out two of them.  The really efficient, effective one, whose stakes are made from wood, even helped one of the Travelers who came damned close to heat stroke, because of dehydration -- a side effect of his blood pressure meds in this very hot humid situation. As he's over 6 feet, him falling over backwards would have been difficult to deal with, but el V and others noticed immediately that K seemed to be passing out. Fortunately, T, one of the Travelers, a repeat Postmamboist, is a full-fledged M.D. -- OB-GYN is her specialty, but she's really good with people getting sick while traveling, knows exactly what to do in these situations, has all sorts of medications in her bag, and our guide, Jesús, is, of course, like Julio the bus driver, trained in first aid. T sent Jesús for COLD water to bring down K's body temperature by drinking, soaking a bandana to wrap around his neck, and apply to his face.

She also ordered fanning. My Cienfuegos 2018 fan was called into service for this, as the other fans present were, T said, "Very pretty fans, but they don't do much.  Constance's is the one." When I go to Havana next month with el V for the Havana Nocturne tour, I'm going to get a special one at the Casa de los abanicos (fans), with her name, the date and place where K nearly passed out painted on it. I also found two more wood stake fans from a vendor, though not quite of the quality of my Cienfuegos fan, are good.

K recovered so well after this episode though, that not only did he refuse to go to a doctor or the hospital, but danced with with wife to the music being played by the Congo Paseo Franco (this Postmambo Oriente trip was heavy on the French, i.e. San Domingue-Haiti connections and heritage, which includes Vodun). I got, I hope some sweet photos of this.  He did not parade with us and the musicians through the neighborhood streets though in the mid-afternoon sun. It also showed the Cubans that white Americans can actually operate quickly and efficiently as a team, as well as with compassion

Ah, el V's going out to bring lunch back.I don't have to move! It is cool in Fort Lauderdale in comparison to what we've been experiencing, but I have no desire to go out in the noonday sun right now.  Or, well, do anything, or go anywhere.

I'm not doing another long trip of this nature again, no matter what -- and that includes not going on the Postmambo Haiti trip in March. I could handle it physically pretty well, because everybody was treating la reina de rubia so helpfully.  But, still.  However, most of all -- I've seen as many casa templos and heard descriptions of all of them translated into English for hours and hours on end, that I never need again to see, experience and have described any of it. I've watched so much ritual, cultural heritage dancing and drumming since 1990, that I've a hit the wall on this sort of experience.  But! for the others, for which it was new, and the musicologists and musicians and dancers among us -- they couldn't get too much (and that includes el V).

Gads, was eastern Cuba ever BEAUTIFUL! There had been months of drought here back in 2017, but now all was as lushly, densely green as one thinks this part of the world is. I loved the drives. Baracoa was, again, enchanting. As part of our activities in this province we toured a cacoa farm run by 5 women -- who were so sexy, hip and hot -- and lordessa can they wield machetes! One of them saw my fascination with her blade and proudly stated (in Spanish), "I am a warrior!"  We bought LOTS of chocolate, of all kinds, literally made by hand there. This is organic, integrated diverse farming, from the chickens and swine who also eat the leavings of the organically cultivated coconut trees and fruit such as mangoes, to the coffee trees, under whose shade the cocao trees and fruit can grow -- and without which shade they cannot.  (Coconut and mangoes as such, are fruit too heavy, for as they fall, they crush the young cacao fruits, but coffee berry trees are just perfect.)

This is incredible chocolate.  Among the purchases we made were individually wrapped bonbons, with centers made of a powder of dried plantains, cinnamon, and something else I didn't quite catch, held together with coconut oil.  There is at least 4% caffeine in this chocolate.  Everybody ate a bonbon when we got back on the bus and -- woo, the chatter, so clearly there was caffeine, because lunch and coffee of any kind had been long ago that day. I got a lot of bars wrapped in foil, and some more of the carved hardwood little pots of hard coconut oil. There just isn't anything better for the skin. I've used up what I brought back from Baracoa two years ago, so happy to refresh the supply.

We had so many adventures it's going to be hard to readjust, the Travelers say, to mundane life. After all, not only did they hear a vast range of music and religion indigenous to Oriente (well, Santeria only arrived in the 1930's and 40's, but it is very powerful and still growing), not only did they participate, they also were present at the rituals surrounding the reading of 2019's Odu at the Casa de Caribe, by the regional babalawos, after la Letra del año 2019 (a/k/a Odu) was cast, to determine which forces -- orishas -- would be dominating the new year --  and the results released by the island-wide council earlier in Havana -- they were at a ceremony in which the information of the Odo was given out to all of Oriente's Santeria 'families.' Thus, there they were when the huge goat and many chickens were sacrificed --- cooked and eaten later, though not by us. We went back to the Meliá to prepare for dinner at the night's scheduled restaurant and pick up the Travelers who opted out of this event, which was, needless to say, quite acceptable.  Others opted out of the a company dinner though, in favor of sitting on the hotel's quiet courtyard patio alone and thinking about what they'd seen, and to a degree participated in. For those of us together at dinner the discussion was all about life and death, life growing out of death and death devouring life.  It was philosophical to a high degree -- plus there were quite a few vegetarians among us, and several have vegan children or grandchildren.

That was a particularly organic day to meditate on the relationships between the dead and living.  We began at the Cementerio Santa Ifigenia)  where Fidel's cremains are now interred in a modest monument. This viewing began with a description and discussion by the director of the cemetery explaining, as in cemeteries globally, space is short. So the bodies can be interred for two years, then the remains are removed, processed, so only the bones are left.  These can then remain with the martyrs of the Revolution, or be re-interred in family plots. After this we were given a brilliant presentation by one of the religious scholars and practitioner of the Palo, religion, which is all about the earth, what comes out of it, what goes into it,  the dead and how the living interact with them -- and this too included exhuming remains . . . . 

Two of the Travelers provided a heartfelt address last night at our farewell restaurant dinner, to el V, the other Travelers and the entire utterly surprising experience -- none of them really had any idea -- one cannot. They all agreed there was no way to describe the experience to their friends, though their photos, videos and recordings can help. Even, the Kid (to us), who has his Ph.D. in Cuban studies, lived in Cuba for three years, and traveled around it, was fairly gobsmacked.  His dad, M, is a maniac for Afro Latin drumming. He came from Albuquerque, to do this tour with J. There was W, a musicologist, specialist in Jamaica, from Harvard, who also plays music. As there is a lot of Jamaican derived culture and history in this part of Cuba, as well as the other stuff, he was so happy. He's also a really good musician. More than once W just got up, asked to join whomever was playing and played. He could really do it. He didn't make a fool of himself (as I've seen others do -- though never Postmambo Travelers) -- he represented Postmambo proud. And all the dancers among us -- they were able to partner with professional theater performer-dancers as in Baracoa with the brilliant Bara Rumba troup, and keep up very well. White Americans showing again who and what Postmambo is, building the brand's reputation throughout Cuba.

Such Travelers! All of them liked each other a lot. We had so many adventures it's going to be hard to readjust, the Travelers say, to mundane life, which may well be expected after seeing a goat sacrificed in front of their faces.. 

Now, have been checking the weather. At the least, we can say I'm looking at a very uncomfortable flight tomorrow due to what looks to be one major winter storm, which on our corridor will be located as I fly particularly in Virginia, Maryland and D.C., i.e between here and up there. Wish me luck!

Waving From Cuba

     . . . . So dramatic, both intentionally, and unplanned. 

One of our elderly Travelers got dehydrated and nearly got hurt badly.  But among the'd emergency medic training our Cuban guide has, Ned's quickness in grabbing his chair as he and it were falling backwards -- after which he'd surely have hit his head badly on the concrete floor -- and that we have a physician among the Travelers -- who is also a long-time friend of the gentleman who was the patient, all was resolved. And he would not go back to the hotel.  He would not go back and sit in the a/ced bus.  When he felt hydrated and electrolyted and fanned enough by all of us ladies, he stood up, and then he danced with his wife.  He was going to hear this music that he loves.  But tonight he's staying in because they got back in their room, his wife said, "No more, today."
In the high 80's in the daytime.  The nights are magic.

Wifi is very iffy, very expensive, and besides, we are very occupied!  But Today Itook out the morning and slept for hours.  I went out with everyone this afternoon, during which K had his dehydration fainting spell.  I'm taking out tonight too.  Tomorrow, Guantanamo.
Little news is creeping in but --  Alexandria Ocasio Cortez -- You Go!

¡Aeroplano! Into the New Year!

     . . . . Way back in time, in isolated Baracoa de Cuba, the early 1920's, came the first airplane ever sighted there.

Baracoa is at the very tip of the island on the screen's right side, i.e. the most northeastern, just above Guantanamo. See how far from Havana it is, which is at the top of the left side of the screen, looking at Florida.  Baracoa was Cuba's first capital, but it wasn't long before the capital removed to the bay of Havana, which was far more accessible.

So, of course, one of the music groups made a song and dance about it.  This song is still being played in Baracoa, and people are still dancing el aeroplano that goes with it -- though!  it has never been recorded.  Tomorrow we get on an airplane and begin the journey that takes us back to Baracoa to hear el Aeroplano played, sung and danced yet another time.

Ay-up.  Finally, all packed, only the inevitable tweaks as we wait for the car to take us to the airport at noon tomorrow. Whew!

We took out a chunk of time for a long and early dinner.  It was so pleasant.  The first time either of us has actually relaxed in a long time. We didn't even quite relax last night, despite having a very nice time with our friends in spite of the tropical monsoon that wiped out a large number of restaurants and clubs profits, most surely.  We saw more people on the streets when were were going home about 2 AM than we saw at all on our way out at 9 PM. -- and more fireworks too.  Couldn't see any fireworks at all at midnight from E's perfectly positioned floor-to-ceiling high up apartment.  Only water running down the glass. It was like that all day until about 1:30 AM.

Of course el V can't really relax despite being packed. His big job is a'comin' right up.  Already, in fact.  He's been e-mailing the Travelers from other parts of the country who are coming in via different airlines than ours -- bad weather in a narrow, constricted band, but enough snow and wind to delay or postpone flights, so people are going to have make new arrangements to meet up with Postmambo when planned. This could mean, of course, that we don't all arrive at Holguín at once, and that will throw the timing all off for the day.  Because somebody will have to stay to meet the late-comers and get them hooked up with the rest of us.  Fun never ends for the people running these sorts of shows -- you know?  But I think it will all be OK.

I am so looking forward to being away from insanity for a while.

Falling Out of 2018

     . . . .Gads, this is exactly what living a month of Sundays was coined for. The weather, the holidays and real focus on going away to where we will drop out of time and US politics almost entirely -- complete temporal dislocation.

NY's Eve and NY's Day get-togethers with friends (many of them Postmambo Travelers now!) take out a lot of the prep time between after Yule and January 2nd's departure, so the day after Christmas I started getting as much done before New Year's Day as possible. This includes getting birthday gifts for our dear friends who happen to have been born on New Year's Eve, and often have received a short shrift on their day, as well gifts for the Cuban familia.

This is the last time I pack for these extended-play trips in Cuba. After this only short trips to Cuba.

I will be clamboring around Castillo de San Pedro del Morro again, for the -- how many times now?  Six?  I can't remember.  But we'll also be doing things I haven't done before too.  That's how these trips stay fresh. Always something new for us all.

But this final extended journey is going to be a lot easier. -- think, I hope. But then, almost anything would easier than 2018's January Central Cuba trip.  But we're spending most nights in the same hotel, the Santiago Meliá, where I've stayed before -- it's a very nice hotel.The other two nights will be in Baracoa. This means far less unpacking and packing and unpacking, and humping the luggage from bus to rooms and back down again, while going through the check-in / check-out process. This makes everything hugely better, because it also means we don't have to spend as much time traveling either.

The people going on this one look to be very interesting. And some of them are relatives of long-time friends of ours. It's going to be strange though, w/o Steve and some others who have come on every Postmambo long trip I've been on.  Well, back when they began, that first one, Steve wasn't the dear friend that he (quickly) became, along with several others.  But I'm sure going to miss him, and Eliza and her wonderful daughter, Mai, and others too.

Yesterday I pulled together the meds and toiletries. There are so many little jobs that take an enormous amount of organization and time, and somehow demand being on one's feet and bending just a little bit -- hell on The Back if one has a Back like mine.  I worked for three hours doing the sorts of tasks such pouring mouth wash into TSA acceptable sized bottles. Ya, we need a lot of mouth wash between the two of us, and el V's staying for two more weeks when I go home, as he begins immediately teaching an NYU course in Havana after Oriente. Mouthwash is an excellent disinfectant for one's toothbrush if it accidentally gets tap water on it (I won't even brush my teeth with tap water in most countries now), and an anti-itch remedy for insect bites. Then, I bent over to get something that had fallen on the floor -- SCREAM! Back had gone out. That finished yesterday. All I was good for was to search out books to download to the travel computer's hard drive, and making lists for what else I must be sure not to forget. 

Today, it's sox and underwear and t-shirts.

Tuesday jeans and foot gear, and the dressy stuff. We have meetings with the Santiago arts organizations to discuss the theatrical version of The American Slave Coast, so I need to dress in something that isn't jeans and a t-shirt, I suppose. Not so easy to figure out at this point as it's in the 80's and very humid in Santiago, and the a/c will be freezing inside.  Also, pack for serious rain (if one doesn't it will pour and if one does, hopefully it won't rain at all).  Hot and humid, cold and clammy, and always humid, so 60 degrees is colder than sixty degrees here.  Not easy, even though I've done this many times by now.  What makes this all so difficult is that if one needs something that one doesn't have one can't buy it. This applies equally to things such as sox and umbrellas, aspirin and tampax.

Damned cold again here -- though if the Weather Critters are correct, the day I come is part of a string of days when the temperatures stay below freezing day and night. I can imagine that very well, having already experienced a string of that, though it wasn't technically winter yet.

But I CANNOT imagine 88° and bright sunshine!

I stand here, listening to Without Precedent: Chief Justice John Marshall and His Times(2018) by Joel R. Paul (highly recommended), bagged in an oversize wool sweater, wool sox and thick boots, thinking about putting on mitts or holding my hands under warm water, staring at t-shirts and other thin, short-sleeved tops, and just -- What? What in the world is 88 degrees??????

Ah! Excellent -- the heat's coming up!

After Solstice, We Move, To Yule

     . . . . What a dramatic sky we have today. The wind is hard, cold and mean. The sun breaks between the big, glowering cobalt clouds with the subtlety of a descending police stick. 

They Say the rain returns tomorrow, so today's for dashing about, gathering the ingredients for our contributions to the Christmas Eve feast.

Or, perhaps, They Say, hopefully, tomorrow night, snow? 



Now to keep el V from snitching the pecans, nipping at the bourbon, two things he, a pure-born southern boy, loves inordinately but never partakes of -- except when somebody provides pecan pie, which will happen at this time of the year. Also in a marvelous yam dish.  And (no, not pecans), in eggnog.

・．✩・。✧ ﾟ .｡* : ★ ゜･ﾟ *:･ﾟ・．✧ ・．✩・

Such wonderful books appearing. 

So far, my favorites are The Lady Queen: The Notorious Reign of Joanna I, Queen of Naples, Jerusalem and Sicily (2009) by Nancy Goldstone ((other of her works in popular history and biography of medieval women in power I've enjoyed very much too -- though I haven't read them all)); The Field of Blood: Violence in Congress and the Road to Civil War (2018) by Joanne B. Freeman; and The Watchers: A Secret history of the Reign of Elizabeth I (2012) by Stephen Alford. 

In fiction, I continue to read Maurice Druon's Accursed Kings series, published between 1955 and 1977. I'm now in the last three in the series: The She-Wolf of France (the she-wolf being Isabella, sister of King of France, wife of feckless Edward II, lover of Roger Mortimer, mother of effective Edward III); The Lily and the Lion; and The King Without a Kingdom.

These are essentially in the same period as The Lady Queen -- that of the Vatican's s recess from Italy to Avignon (though in France, not of the French crown per se, as Provence is still a an independent kingdom -- and Joanna is the Countess of Provence among her multiple titles and possessions), the endless schemes among the great European families and crowns to wrest the lordship of southern Italy to themselves, and yes, Constantinople too,  the 100 Years War and the Black Death, the end of France's Capetian dynasty and floundering of the first Valois rulers -- which will bring, eventually, Jean d'Arc as France's savior and martyr, in the 15th century.  I'm still reading The King Without a Country, who is John / Jean II Valois, taken prisoner by the English throne (and not for the last time will a King of France be personally imprisoned; François I spent time imprisoned in Spain after a humiliating war loss). 

The Lady Queen is providing me answers to all sorts of historical questions I've been having, about Church's removal to Avignon from Italy, and other questions I didn't know to ask. 

I had no idea how important the kingdom of Hungary was.  For one thing, an immense source of gold and silver was discovered in its lands, making it the wealthiest European country by far. In the 14th century then, all of Europe's gold supply came from Hungary's territory, and one third of the global supply came from there. It took Spanish conquest of the southern New World continent to change that.

So ya, the ruling family of Hungary were certain the Pope should be ceding the power to rule southern Italy to them. And if they couldn't get it by marriage or inheritance, or the Pope's decree (the kingdom in southern Italy belonged to the Pope, due to fealty to the Pope in return for money, men, etc.,) they'd get it by murder.  It was their right.  By the way, one of the major figures in the early part of the book is the Queen of Naples -- is familiarly by now named -- Sancia: see the Druon series . . . .

Nor had I any idea of the brilliance of wealth and culture that was the 14th century Kingdom of Naples. This is the court that inspires Boccaccio in many of his works, not only The Decameron.  Queen Joanna herself is depicted in many of his works.

It's as though, at least when it comes to Europe, the 14th century tends to get lost when we study history. This seems to be, again, as I keep discovering, Europe is pulled east, economically and politically and even religiously, due to the Holy Roman Empire and Venice. And the eastern orientation, indeed, even the Holy Roman Empire, is often at best given brief mention from historians writing in English.  So Hungary, though overlooked by English writing historians, is vastly important  -- as the trade with Constantinople, the Ottomans and further east, and control of this trade, were primary for everyone in Mediterranean Europe, east and west (though the northern sphere had developed its own sphere of economic importance, but not yet -- not quite yet -- cultural and artistic importance). 

Also the 14th century tends to get lost due to the focus on the Black Death, and did it or did it not, destroy feudalism and serfdom? In that debate, it's as though the only nations that matter are England, France and, to a lesser degree, Spain (Spain had another century until the completion of the Reconquista).

I'm reading two of the three of the series's most recent volumes somehow, at the same time: the 7th installment, A Chorus of Innocents (2015), having already read due to book availability vagaries, the 8th one, A Clash of Spheres (2014) earlier, and the 9th, A Suspicion of Silver (2018).  The first book in the Carey series, A Famine of Horses, came out in 1994.

An additionally interesting thing about this series as how so many of the people at the top of the political orders of the last three books have come to resemble in their infantilism and cruelty someone we've all had taking up space in our heads, unwanted, for the last three years. But none of them are ignorant of everything, not like we've been experiencing at the top, for years now. I'm seeing this sort of thing with the villains in almost all the fiction I've read this year that was published in 2018.

As Sir Robert Carey really existed and did all the things he does in the books named for him, and as the cardinals, popes and many of the other characters in the Druon series also lived and did what they did, these series are deeply engaging and satisfying historical fiction.

Longest Nights, Joyous Nights - Solstice of Winter

     . . . .  The longest night of the year seems to have started yesterday afternoon, when the first rain began.

We've had heavy, heavy rain since late yesterday, though, thankfully, intermittently.  We had very high winds, though they too were intermittent in the City.  Lots of flooding, though not where we are.  But what this means is that I couldn't tell this was the longest night of the year.  It never got light to speak off, due to the winter storm, all day.  And now it is night again. Well, it was honestly night so early I didn't even notice, with rising to putting on electric light, and having it on all day.  However, unseasonably, the temperatures rose to just shy of 60°.  So el V went out and about from around noon on. As it turned out, the NYC subways continued to run and did not flood out.

Anyway, the FedEx package that was to be delivered today, with the visas of so many of us going to Oriente on the 2nd, arrived. The FedEx guy was wet, but triumphant.

I am really hoping the weather cooperates at 4AM January 2nd, unlike this past March, when a blizzard shut down JFK and we weren't able to go anywhere the day we were supposed to fly out.  Today the local airports were shut down . . . .

In the meantime, it's been dark for a very long time.  Ay-up.  The shortest day of the year. And all things are, hopefully, pointing to Christmas and New Year's with friends,  and thenm travel, with old friends and new ones!

Light, light, Solstice light, Christmas lights, New Year lights, 

Caribbean light, are my immediate future. 

AH -- I am hearing planes overhead, for the first time in a day and a half!