sailing out

Three million people in the City of Angels according to the last census, easily half of them up to something they don't want the other half to know. We all get sucked in by the lobby. Palm trees finger the sky and there's enough sunshine to lay off some on Pittsburgh. But that's all on the top. L.A., truth to tell's, not much different than a pretty girl with the clap.

Some opening lines from plays summarize a place in few words. Prose poems.


And what better introduction to Los Angeles than City of Angels?


I flew up from Melaque this afternoon. Great flight. Sat next to an interesting couple from Alberta who live in a neighboring town. We actually made arrangements to meet when we return.


But my goal tonight is to simply settle down, get some rest, and head off to the ship in the morning.


Then, I should have more to say.

can you spare a cruise?

When I moved to Melaque, a friend asked me if would still be here in November.


I told him: "I certainly hope so."


He then told me that he was taking a Mexican cruise with his sister, and that one of the stops would be Puerto Vallarta. He wanted to know if I would spend the day with them.


It sounded great to me. Of course, I would need to find accommodation for the dog.


Well, we know how part of that story has developed. When Jiggs died in October, it occurred to me that I not only could meet them, I could join them on the cruise. And that is exactly what I am going to do.


I am going to end up spending hours flying to and from Los Angeles to visit the country where I live. Better yet, it is the same cruise I would take for my birthday every year: Cabo San Lucas, Mazatlan, and Puerto Vallarta. Places I have visited -- a lot.


But, I am looking forward to it because I will be spending time with my friends.


When I set up the reservations, I noted one big problem. There is only one direct flight from Los Angeles to Manzanillo each week -- on Saturdays. The ship returns to Los Angeles on Sunday. That means that I would have to stay in Los Angeles for almost a full week.


Now, I do not dislike Los Angeles -- exactly. I just found it hard to think of anything I could do for a week.


Then another group of friends came to the rescue. I have not been to Disneyland since the mid-1950s. My friends were more than willing to drag me back to the Magic Kingdom.


Surprisingly, I am looking forward to it. I will be wandering around with a group of techie-minded types. We can spend our time looking at how things work. For me, it will be like being in theater heaven. Better than a week at Fry's.


So, that is the agenda -- and not one secret item in sight.


I will do my best to keep you posted on this little adventure -- even if it is Mexico from the ultimate tourist's perspective. Assuming I can get enough bandwidth to upload photographs from the ship.


Let the adventure continue.

zoom with a view

Nancy (of Countdown to Mexico) commented yesterday that I should have included photographs in yesterday's post about my new camera.


Great idea. I wish I had thought of it.


I sorted through my output over the past month -- trying to choose examples of shots that have made a difference with the new camera.


The photograph at the top is an example. My prior camera did not have the pixels to pick up the details of Salem's tallest building -- or the textural variations in the Autumn sky.

This is a sentimental favorite. It is impossible to miss this dog on the beach. He is the class clown.


If he is not worrying a coconut shell to death, he is pestering strangers to throw it into the sea where he will retrieve it. Again. And again. And again.


But, more than that, he simply likes to dig holes in the beach. Simply because he can. In this shot, I used a sports setting with a high speed shutter in the macro. My old camera could not have captured the sand as the dog tossed it out of his excavation.


OK. Some of you are thinking this is just the dog I need to adopt. But he does not want to be adopted. He has friends everywhere, and no desire to be anyone's dog. He is his own.

I wish I could remember the setting I used for this shot. I simply liked the combination of the horizontal driftwood matched with the sea's horizon. I was also impressed with the different hues of blue that the camera was able to distinguish.

The 18X optical zoom tied with its 12 megapixel capture picks up some interesting detail. This shot is the highest point on a war memorial -- a hand grenade held aloft. I took it at full zoom.

This is another zoom picture, but it illustrates a different point. On full zoom, the heron was only a small portion of the photograph. After severe cropping, I ended up with a photograph that looks as if the image filled the view finder. This works only because of the megapixel capacity.

This was a tricky shot.


I hate getting too close to people when I am shooting. For some reason, I dislike being intrusive. But I was close enough to this couple not to need my zoom. I include it because of the color and detail.

There are bloggers amongst us who rail at closeup photographs of flowers.


Well, this bud's for you.


Abraham Lincoln once said: "People who like this sort of thing will find this the sort of thing they like." That is true of the closeup macro on my new camera. Lots of options. Lots of good results. Just look at the rain drops.


So, there is a little bit of what comes out of this new camera. I trust you will be seeing more in the very near future.


No matter where I am.

mi recámara

You may have noticed an improvement in my photographs since early October.


If you haven't; I have.


The sole reason is my new camera. After a bit of assistance from a number of you (through a glass darkly), I decided to purchase a Panasonic FZ-35.


I wanted a camera that had some of the ease of a point and shoot, but also had the ability to override the built-in macros to perform more like an SLR camera. This camera met that basic criterion.


Along with the ability to shoot at 12 megapixels and an 18X optical zoom.


For me, the zoom is far more important. The wide vistas of the Mexican Pacific coast gives me a great field of vision for shots. But many of those shots are simply beyond the range of a point and shoot.


My last camera taught me the value of a powerful zoom. I will never buy another camera without one.


But there is one downside. The camera body is about the size of an SLR camera -- just a bit smaller. It certainly will not fit in a pocket without some rather morally-pointed stares.


That means I need to carry a back pack with me when I go out on shoots. Not really a big deal.


The camera has also given me an opportunity to relearn basic photography skills. Because I can set the camera as if it were an SLR, I need to recall all of those principles that are now on a dusty shelf somewhere in the south of Greece. But it will be fun to relearn what I have forgotten through disuse.


My bottom line is that is a great camera.


The question is whether or not you will enjoy the photographs.


I promise to use it on my upcoming trip.

gidgets wanted

My little fishing village on the Mexican coast is not a hotbed of athletics.


As in any town in Mexico, there are the odd football matches. And even a rodeo or two. But Melaque is not known for its sports society.


With one big exception --skim boarding.


I have commented several times that the waves on my beach are not swimmer friendly.


The pitch is steep enough that the waves do not merely pound the sand. They slam it. The WWF has nothing on drama queen noises in comparison with the sounds the ocean makes when greeting the shore.


But that violent one-break surf creates a veritable Aspen for the local skim boarders.


If you do not know what a skim board is, think of a short surf board that is smooth on the bottom.


The boarder waits on the beach for a likely wave. If he spies one, he tears off in Jesse Owens style.


When he hits the surf line on the wet sand, he drops his board (taking advantage of another Newtonian rule of physics), jumps on it, and sails out into the surf, where he catches the curl of the wave.

Most of them are in their teens. Some are older. But, unlike snow skiing, it is a sport not to be enjoyed by white-haired men, no matter how many wily tricks they may have learned. Wiles do not equal balance.


But watching these guys on their boards is a cultural potpourri. Graceful as ballet. Enchanting as the Cirque du Soleil. Invigorating as active youth can be.


What is missing are young women. Oh, they are at the beach. Lined up in a row with their babies. Watching their men grapple with nature. All attired in proper Nazarene Church camp summer wear.


I asked one of the young women why she was not a boarder. She simply laughed, and said: "That's for boys." And looked at me as if I had just asked why boys don't wear skirts.


I have heard there are some women skim boarders. I simply have not seen them in my stay at the beach.


Until they do appear, I will have to be satisfied with watching the fathers of the little babies who accompany the women on the beach.

death takes a holiday

Near the end of Annie Hall, Alvy and Annie are dividing their property. Looking at a stack of books, Annie says:

Now, look, all the books with death and dying are yours, and all the poetry books are mine.

If you changed the character names to Mexico and America, you would just about sum about the respective attitudes of each nation toward death.


Death is a timely topic. It is always, of course.


But death rides high this week in Mexico -- with its Day of the Dead celebrations.

I drove to the local cemetery today and yesterday. It is a fair distance to drive from town. When I got there, I found a couple cars and a few knots of relatives in the cemetery. Hardly the mob scene I had been told to anticipate.


I stopped, but decided not to intrude with my camera. After all, I would feel a bit violated if a stranger with a camera elbowed into our family's Memorial Day grave decoration ceremony.


The celebration caused me to organize some thoughts I have been mulling over during the last few weeks.


Mexicans seem to have a natural relationship with death. Perhaps because it seems that much closer to people who have few material goods. Or it could be the effect that Roman Catholicism has had on the general public. As Anne Lamott points out "a basic tenet of the Christian faith is that death is really just a major change of address."


Whatever the reason, their remembrance of their dead relatives through stylized demonstrations is not emotional on the surface. In fact, it appears to be quite loving.


Americans do not share that view of death. I have several friends who will not discuss it with me. An American doctor friend tells me that he is amazed at how many of his patients say "if I die," rather than "when I die." Another young friend told me he thinks that death will be conquered by science by the time he gets to be my age (40 more years).


Of course, there are exceptions. I have been fascinated with death all of my life. And another friend told me recently that he has been hiding his fascination with the topic because everyone else thinks he is weird to discuss it.


That is why an American newspaper could run a headline "Mexico death museum lives up to morbid name" with a story about the Mexican National Museum of Death. The story goes on to refer to "the country's macabre interest in kicking the bucket."


Morbid? Macabre? Simply because the topic is death.


When I read Babs's post yesterday morning, several pieces came together. She wrote about the emotional turmoil that she went through when building an altar for her daughter: Jennifer's Altar. But when the altar was complete, she felt a sense of peace.


I suspect that is what we Americans attempt to avoid when discussing death. We want the peace on the cheap -- without the emotional turmoil.


Yesterday I did not feel well. I ended up sleeping most of the day. But my death thoughts seem to have triggered something.


I had a dream. I was in a strange apartment. There was a knock at the door. I opened it, and there stood a liveried chauffeur. No idea who he was. But he said: "Sir, the car is ready."


I followed him down two flights of stairs to an urban street where a Duesenberg J awaited. He opened the door. I got in.


Even though I was alone; I was not alone. There were about eight other people in the car. But they were ethereal. My dad. My grandmother. My Aunt Bessie. Some people I have not yet met.


But they were all looking forward. No social interchange at all.


But that is what I get for thinking too much on this topic.


Of course, it would have been a far better tale if it had been a carriage and my fellow passenger was Miss Emily Dickinson.


Because we could have shared our books -- of poetry and death.

altars and friendship

My friend and fellow blogger, Gloria, has posted photographs and commentary on her Day of the Dead altar.


She has graciously included Professor Jiggs amongst her family members and pets. Jiggs would appreciate it.

I certainly do.