Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 27, 2024

The Saga of Vagrant Holiday


A few years back I was scoping out stuff on YouTube and some random video popped up by a user called Vagrant Holiday.

His channel: (YouTube | Bitchute )

The "Vagrant" is a young guy, and his videos are like an FPS video game.  He wanders around Europe with his camera in hand, and in a kind of deadpan tone comments on what he sees.  He is cynical, sarcastic, and swears like a sailor.  What really was unusual is that he slept, as the title would suggest, like a vagrant, finding a place to stash his gear during his peripatetic day, then returning at night to sleep under bushes in parks, in abandoned buildings, or in wooded urban areas.  In one video his gear is stolen and he sleeps in a university building bathroom (Salamanca) or under the stairs in a hotel (Porto).

Part of his charm was his cavalier attitude towards trespassing and vagrancy, just no fear.  He hops fences and manages to scale cathedrals under renovation, a cloud-shrouded castle in Heidelberg, wherever.  He walks through abandoned train yards.  He eats free breakfast in hotel buffets.  He definitely has some decent hobo survival skills.

In his final video, he reports being robbed in Mexico.  Many said it was inevitable given his methods, but I don't think one needs to travel the way he did to have that happen.  Getting robbed is just a fact of life in Central America and Mexico.  In 5 months there my truck was broken into twice.  His one fuck-up I saw was fooling around with drug dealers in Lisbon, pretending his baking soda was coke.  Later, approached by yet another dealer, instead of just saying "go away" he engages with the guy and tries to secretly film him.  I've been to Lisbon, those guys are generally harmless, but you don't try to film them.  Just ignore them.

I've been an addict on and off for years.  I've scored in cities and countries worldwide and never had trouble.  You don't film dealers.  Or else you get sucker punched.

In another video he train hops and for a long time is out in the desert and gets dangerously low on water.  Definitely under-prepared. But he does make it out alive and avoids being caught, so he has that going for him.

So I found out about this at the end of 2023. 
It all came to end this year where he posted a rather scathing update on his bio:
I'm done with videos. No more will be posted here. Vagrant Holiday was a side project done purely for fun and not profit. http://www.bitchute.com/vagrantholiday
No need to read further if you're sane.
Do not try to find or contact me for any reason. I owe nothing to anyone. I'm not your friend. I have no idea who you are. If you claim I've saved your life, no I didn't. You don't need to know what I'm doing. It's not your business. If someone not posting to the internet on a regular basis is upsetting or the most mysterious thing you've experienced, I can't help you with your problem.
Read this: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parasocial_interaction
There's nowhere else I'll be posting to. Rumors surrounding this channel are likely made up by attention seekers. If it sounds dumb, it probably is. If it doesn't, you might be the one who's dumb.
Go outside.
P.S. To those asking if I'm dead, the answer is yes. Funeral was last week. You weren't invited.

So I guess I'm not sane! A lot of people were angered by this. Especially these guys at Hardpoint. These guys were onto VH about 2 months before he quit. They got hold of video from the Seattle riots and there is a guy in a scene which VH had filmed, and there he is, all in black, wearing the backpack VH carries in his videos.  They seem to think he does owe people something, that he did change lives, and that they might have pushed him to post the renunciation above.

I figure it's his right. A lot of people were trying to figure out who he is.  And he basically shows himself breaking the law. In one video, Forbidden Island, he kayaks over to an island which is a maximum security prison for sex offenders and wanders through an abandoned prison.

Another video, Riot Holiday, ended up being used to identify a man who took a rifle from a burnt out cop car during the 2020 Seattle riots (DOJ PDF). That man, from this article, was convicted and sentenced to 16 months in prison. That would make me nervous. My guess is that getting robbed in Mexico, having his video used to put a man in prison, and the possibility of getting doxxed after having filmed himself trespassing and train-hopping might have contributed to his departure and the harsh "goodbye".

His videos are really well done. They probably took a while to produce. Maybe he just got bored with it. I'm thinking he was starting to get spooked by the dots being connected, that he was found in another video, the DOJ had used his film. If anyone could, the DOJ could probably find him, if they wanted.

Vagrant is almost certainly also a guy known as Surveillance Camera Man (Bitchute). Same snarky comments, same FPS-style camera work.  Both from Seattle.  In this video (9:50), Vagrant explains why he always wears black.  In this SCM video he films a man who at 19:50 goes on about how SCM is dressed all in black.  From the FP glimpses we see in both users' videos, there are similar clothes and builds.  The concepts are different, but the style of the video is essentially the same

This is especially true of this "lost footage" video Vagrant took at the Seattle CHAZ.  About three minutes in he starts filming people, not backing down when they confront him.  He just films and says nothing.  It's exactly like SCM footage.

Another potential piece of evidence is a video he posted as Elevator Man.  Similar content, although not always FP.  The guy is all in black, too.  There's no question Elevator Man is Vagrant, because in his third video (54:20) he posts an excerpt from the Elevator Man video. 

Elevator Man. Surveillance Camera Man.  Could be a coincidence. But with the build, the clothes, the style of video, the voice and the snark they are surely the same guy.  And if Elevator Man is SCM, then VH is also the same man 
  
So, that is what we know about Vagrant Holiday.  I hesitated to publish this, because I did't want him to be unmasked, but nothing here isn't already online.  I may have brought it all together, but it was just a matter of a few Google searches.

I admire the guy.  He's wily, smart, funny, and maybe not always wise, but pretty courageous.  He reminds me of some of the things I got up to as a young feller.  I didn't want to invade his privacy as he's clear he wants people to leave him alone. And for good reason. He's broke a host of petty laws and maybe even bigger ones when he toured Forbidden Island and hopped several trains.  One video helped put a guy in prison.  All good reasons to keep a low profile.

So, people might rightly say I'm not respecting that. Well, all of this information is already online, a lot of it together. I may have assembled a fuller picture but it's far from complete.  It's just my mania for being a completist and organizing my thoughts in public.

I'd document my own vagabond experiences, but to be honest, I wouldn't want people like me writing about it. If you truly want to be left alone, don't leave a permanent record accessible by hundreds of thousands of people. And certainly don't whinge about it. People can't resist solving a mystery. Dressing and acting like a ninja and making enjoyable art in a mask invites people to look underneath.

If you really want to be left alone, don't publish videos on multiple platforms, eh?

 

I just came across this article from a Seattle weekly which I'm sure is about Vagrant: Is the Creepy Cameraman Hanging out on Capitol Hill?
Yesterday evening, around 5:20pm, my friends and I were accosted by this guy aggressively recording us at the bus stop on Madison between 13th and 12th. When asked to stop politely, he would simply step closer. Attempting to dissuade him from continuing we moved, trying to keep him at our backs; he responded by remaining silent and moving around to try and get our faces on camera, getting really up close and aggressive. While one of us contacted SPD, my friend snapped a picture, attached. Finally, still silent, he decided to leave, putting away the camera and walking up Madison, turning on 13th.

Reading this, I wonder if VH is entitled to his privacy. This behavior is unsettling and upsetting to people. VH/SCM had no qualms about putting that online.

So, I figure if you're willing to freak people out by getting in their faces, filming them, and posting it online, a bit of turnabout is fair play.

Sorry Vagrant.

Monday, June 13, 2022

No place like home

A mongrel flag: Tampa!

When someone asks me where I come from, how I answer depends on my mood.  If I'm tired, I just say "Tampa." (Puzzled looks)  "Floride?"  If I'm up for a chat it's some variation of the following....

My father was born in Marietta, Ohio and grew up in St. Mary's, WV.  My mom was born and raised in Sutton, Surrey, England.  She became a US citizen when I was 4.  Ethnically, I'm painfully WASPish.

Places I've lived:

Born: Tampa, Florida, 1970 (MacDill AFB)

Oxford, England

Mobile, Alabama

Honolulu, Hawaii

Sumter, South Carolina 

Naples, Italy

Tampa (again) and DeLand, Florida, 1981-1992

Arlington, Virginia

Tampa (and again)

Zaragosa, Mexico

Tampa (yet again)

Edgewood, Albuquerque, and Jemez Springs, New Mexico

Ithaca, New York

Toulouse, Aucamville, and Verdun-sur-Garonne, France, 2002-Present

7 states and 4 countries.  Woof!

Places I've visited/lived:

England (1+ year)

Italy (3 years)

Israel (2 weeks)

Jordan (5 days)

Egypt (3 days)

Netherlands (1 week)

Mexico (1+ year)

Guatemala (3+ months)

Belize (5 days)

France (20 years)

Switzerland (3 days)

Canada (3 days)

Spain (3+ months)

Portugal (3 weeks)

Greece (10 days)

Andorra (several hiking expeditions)

Argentina (20 days), 

Uruguay (4 days)

Brazil (10 days), 

Morocco (7 days)

Germany (36 days)

Slovenia (1 day)

Czech Republic (1 day)

Austria (2 days)

Belgium (4 days), 

Luxembourg (2 days)

Ireland (3 days)

27 countries.  A fraction of what some of my friends have managed, but still pretty diverse.

My ancestry:

English, Dutch, Irish

Me ex-wife is from Argentina and has Spanish, Italian, and Quechua ancestry.

My kids were born in France and like the entire nuclear family are trilingual:  English, French, Spanish.  I always speak English with the kids and with their mother they speak French, and then Spanish.  Dinner is like a session of the UN.

They identify as French, Argentine, and American, in no particular order (though my son spent a year in Minneapolis and dreams of living in the States).  They are Third Culture Kids (TCK), as am I.  I recognize the benefits and challenges of "TCK-hood" described by researchers, and learning about TCK characteristics did a lot to alleviate some anxiety I felt about the challenges I'd faced as a teenager adjusting to life in the "normal" world.

I am also an existential migrant.  That is to say, my decision to move abroad was not for economic or political reasons, but

a chosen attempt to express something fundamental about existence by leaving [my] homeland and becoming a foreigner.

I believe my desire to live abroad results from moving back to the US after living in Italy.  This was the first time I'd lived off-base or in a community not dominated by military families.  I was 11, on the cusp of adolescence, and found myself woefully out of touch with "civilian life" and the cultural norms of American pre-teens.  I dreamed of returning to Europe, and finally did, at age 32.

I'm 51 and have lived 25 years outside the US, and the Toulouse area of France is by far the place I've lived the longest.  Whatever reservations I have about life in the US come honestly, courtesy of my dad's service to Uncle Sam.  The unforeseen consequences of military life.  You sometimes see things a little differently.  Objectively, I can't say.  But certainly differently....   

Flag-waving and reciting the Pledge of Allegiance make me feel weird.  Am I American?  White?  Anglophone?  All of the above and none of the above?  Identities shift and overlap.  Am I unpatriotic or anti-nationalist?  

American exceptionalism....globalism.... world citizenship....Jizz-boots on the spooge-tip?

My mother and sister still live in Tampa, but I have as many close relatives in London as anywhere else.

I shall probably live in Europe for the rest of my life.  Barring expulsion or some other unforeseen circumstances.  I am resolutely American.  But I'm something else, as well.

Where am I from?  Many places really.  Call me a cracker, a gringo, a foreigner....but I cringe every time my ex calls me a "Yanqui!"  Ridiculous?  Yep.  

The American South.  The south of France.  Southern Italy.  South England.  Perhaps the one constant across my peregrinations is being a "southerner" to some degree.  And a provincial.  A provincial cosmopolitan.  Or a cosmopolitan provincial.  Some words, basically.  I've barely left my house in four years.  All that moving and now I find my couch to the fridge is about all I can muster.  

20 years from now, when I live in Benin, or Vietnam, or Ethiopia, I'll look back on this sedentary period and wonder just WTF happened.  I'll reflect on it at the end of the month while I'm in Germany.

No real point to all this except to question what we really mean when we speak about who we are, and where we're from.  More and more people have trouble answering the second question and don't identify where they're from as who they are.  I find that encouraging.

I posted Tampa's flag above because it attempts to represent the city's diverse heritage:  Spain, England, Italy, and America.  Very much like my own family.  In fact, the Centro Asturiano de Tampa was co-founded by a man named Faya, and my wife is a Faya, with Asturian ancestors.  Faya is a rare name, and the guy may well be a distant cousin.  The flag meshes nicely with my own family tree's tangled roots, but damn, it is a godawful mess, innit?

Short of any fascist imagery to untangle this week, I dipped my toes into my genealogy, which is now just a collection of names and dates and places.  I'm hoping to turn all that data into a narrative, and as the blog is where I come to set down my thoughts and get things straight, I expect to do a lot of genealogical ruminations in the coming months.

5 generations of my family lived and died on the same farm in Ohio until dad broke the chain by running off to Vietnam.  And I've been running ever since.  And Vietnam is definitely on my list of places to go before I shrug off my mortal coil.

My biggest regret about the circumstances and choices of my life is the lack of roots in a specific place.  Was it Wolfe who said you can never go home again?  In my case, that's sometimes painfully true.  A nomadic life has its benefits, but it's a trade off, and just once I'd like to stroll down Main Street and wave to distant family and neighbors going back generations.  It's like being nostalgic for something I never experienced.

Maybe the grass is simply greener than wherever it is one happens to be at the moment....

Saturday, October 26, 2013

Magique, Mystère, Tourisme....et de la bière. Beaucoup et beaucoup de bière....


Notre Dame de la Daurade

From Saturday until today The Gid and his brother Steven were in town to visit.  It was jam-packed with sightseeing and beer drinking and though tired, it's left me with a sense of contentment I haven't felt in a while.

One of the highlights of our trip was a modified version of the "Magical Mystery Tour" I took last year with my kids into Aude, Corbières, Languedoc-Rousillon, etc.

Steve has been writing about his visit and has some great photos.  I really enjoyed reading about places I've seen previously from the perspective of someone who's never been to France. It also gives you an idea of just how much there is to see in southwest France.

We touched a sliver of a fragment and even then didn't even begin to cover all the worth-a-visit sites the area has to offer, natural, historical and cultural.  We didn't do too bad though.

Please take a look a Steve's post.  It'll spark some great ideas if you ever consider coming to Toulouse and environs.

Europe Week One: Southern France and Northern Spain by S.J. Payne

Added 12/04.
And there was a black virgin, “Mare de Deu de Monserrat.” 
(For you, Steve Adkins.)   Europe Week Two:  Barcelona and Paris

Saturday, April 27, 2013

Magical Mystery Tour

The route....

You don't need to be a Romantic to be drawn into magic of the French Southwest, but driving through it may convert you into one.  In the space of an hour you can pass from picturesque villages nestled among sprawling vineyards to sublime mountain peaks, crowned by decaying castles, the silent sentinels of a bygone era.  In 2011 alone, France received nearly 80 million tourists.  Take a trip through the Southwest and it's easy to see why.  Whereas most tourists head directly to Paris, for good reason, one could easily skip the City of Lights altogether and spend weeks exploring the Aude and Languedoc-Roussillon and not have "missed out" on a great French vacation.  From hiking to mountaineering, canyoning to mountain biking, the region has you covered.  History buffs will be thoroughly satiated.  Amateur sleuths will find mysteries galore.  Foodies will have to be careful not to eat until they explode.  Thin mint, anyone?

I travelled through the Aude and Languedoc-Roussillon this week.  My itinerary was only a few hundred kilometers, but I saw enough to write a thick book....and what I saw was only a splinter from a massive oak.  Like I said, you can spend weeks exploring an area which can be crossed in a couple of hours.

My journey began at Saint Papoul.  I wanted to visit the Benedictine abbey (founded in the 8th c.) there in the hopes I might stumble across something which might increase my store of knowledge about Saint Sernin and the Saintes Puelles.  Papoul, or Papulus, was a priest who assisted Saint Saturninus (Sernin) in his efforts to evangelize the Gauls.  He's an obscure saint and there's not much that can be reliably said about him.  He was imprisoned for a while in Carcassonne and was killed during the Diocletian persecution, apparently beheaded.  He was also a cephalophore.  I can't find a detailed account, but apparently where he picked up his own severed head, a spring appeared.  The severed head is certainly a pre-Christian mytheme and recalls the rumours about Templar head worship.  The miraculous spring is also a familiar element.  Many of the Vierges Noires we have discussed are associated with sacred springs, as are many of the Virgin Martyrs; several among these latter were also cephalophores.  The cephalophore is not unique to France, but appears most frequently in French hagiography.  Sacred waters will reappear in this post.

In any event, we'd gotten a late start and only had a half an hour to explore the abbey; we decided to skip the visit and press on to out next destination, Saint-Hilaire.

Cloister of Saint Hilaire Abbey

Saint-Hilaire is about 50 minutes southeast of Saint-Papoul.  Like the abbey of Saint-Papoul, it was a Benedictine abbey founded in the 8th century as a dedication to Saint Sernin, a dedication changed in the 10th c. to honor Saint Hilaire (Hilarius), a fifth-century Pope.  The saint himself holds little interest to my researches, but the abbey is the site of Saint Sernin's tomb.  His sarcophagus is an exquisite Romanesque masterpiece and is carved to recount the legend of his martyrdom.  Thus it also features one of the very few depictions of the Saintes Puelles.  But France pretty much shuts down between 12 and 2, so again, I missed out.  I was able to enter the cloister, a tranquil place with a calming fountain at the center of the courtyard, but that was it.  The cloister is much like that of abbey of Saint Peter in Moissac (founded in the 7th c.) and that of the Dominican convent known as les Jacobins in Toulouse (early 14th c.), demonstrating a remarkable consistency in French monastic architecture.  A shame we missed out, but it was a fine day and a pleasant place to have lunch, a good way to ease into a long day of sightseeing.

Notre Dame de Marceille

Our next destination was Rennes-le-Chateau (RLC).  We had to pass through Limoux, a place I visited last year in order to see its famous Carnaval.  A chapel along the road caught my eye and so we popped in for a brief visit.  Lo and behold, my spider senses started tingling and indeed, the basilica is dedicated to Notre Dame de Marceille, a Vierge Noire I hadn't realized was there.  Apparently, the site is very ancient, with Paleolithic and Gallo-Roman remnants.  A church is mentioned as early as 1011.  It remains an important pilgrimage destination and has all the classic elements of Black Virgin stories.

At one time, in the quite remote past, a ploughman who cultivated his field on the slope of Marcellan saw his ox stop, as if halted by an invisible obstacle. He pushed it in vain, to urge it on, but it stood stock-still and resisted every prodding. The ploughman, who was amazed at first, suddenly felt the only other thing he could do was to call to Heaven for help. Then, somehow inspired by this plea for divine assistance, he began to dig the ground where the ox had stopped, only to find that it contained a statue. It was that of a wooden Madonna, brown and dark, with a celestial smile on her face. With great respect, he took the statue to the door of his house, where everyone in his family rejoiced at the sight of it. But their joy was short-lived: the following morning, the Madonna had disappeared. The ploughman returned to his field, and found the image in the place where he had discovered it the day before. Again, he rejoiced and carried it home, but in vain. It returned once again to the place where he had found it. He tried a third time, but to no avail. The statue returned to its hole in the ground.

Source

Compare this story to that of Notre Dame d'Alet; note also that in the vicinity of this basilica there is a village named Alet-les-Bains.....

The basilica is also built over the site of a Gallo-Roman well and a miraculous fountain reputed to cure blindness is located on the site.  This Virgin also appeals to newlyweds who leave their bridal veils to ensure a happy marriage.  It would be redundant to make a list of all the Vierges Noires whose legend involves the strange behavior of cattle, a miraculous insistence of where to be worshipped and the special place she holds in the heart of women seeking aid in matrimony and maternity.  For the general tourist, it's also an amazing basilica, beautifully appointed and covered from floor to ceiling with elaborate frescoes.  Score!  The place was officially closed but the door was unlocked, so I slipped in for some photos.  I later learned that in 2007, while the place was being renovated, someone snuck in and decapitated the statue and spirited the head away, along with Her mantle!  Nothing else was stolen.  Given it's proximity to RLC, I wonder if this was a symbolic act and can't help but recall the cephalophore mytheme of nearby Saint Papoul and the head wound of Saint Sernin.  The current statue, then, like so many others, is a replacement.

Baptismal font, Rennes-le-Chateau

RLC. I won't go into the history associated with this place, but for fans of the esoteric, the town is legendary.  The first book about RLC appeared in 1967 (L'Or de Rennes by Gérard de Sède), inspiring a long series of books speculating about the town and its famous church.  Holy Blood, Holy Grail and The Da Vinci Code both owe their material to de Sède.  Countless books have appeared on the subject and the mysterious Priory of Sion.  It's a vast and complex story the center of which involves hidden treasures and the idea that the bloodline of Jesus and Mary Magdalene continues to this day.  Gérard de Sède was involved in both surrealist and Oulipo groups and I think his work should be approached with this in mind.  De Sède's son Arnaud said in a 2005 interview that his father and Pierre Plantard invented the legend from whole cloth and created the documents "proving" the existence of the Priory of Sion.  It's a fascinating hoax, so well-constructed that despite Arnaud de Sède's statements and the rather extensive debunking, people still believe it's true.  The sheer number of books and websites devoted to the subject boggles the mind.  People believe what they want to believe.  It would be a great Ph.D. thesis to analyze how disinformation works in a a non-propaganda context, as fact and fantasy are mixed to create a viable and enduring story.  There are so many odd coincidences, everything begins to link up and "possible" become "probable" until so much stuff piles up that the "where there's smoke there's fire" mechanism kicks in and fabulism becomes accepted as history.  There are a lot of gold ingots found among the turds, however, and one can read these books with a critical eye and still glean some important insights into the region, like good literature is often more useful than poor history.

Next stop, Rennes-les-Bains.  This has been a spot for thermal cures for literally thousands of years.  The healing properties of its waters is almost certainly connected to the legends surrounding religious sites.  Whereas the claims that a spring can cure blindness (perhaps a metaphorical cure à la Amazing Grace:  "Was blind but now I see") are dubious, the healing benefits of thermal springs are real.  Thermal cures can be prescribed by doctors and are subsidized in part by the French health care system.  We stopped for an hour or so to soak in the warm waters collected in two basins by the side of the Sals River.  A lovely spot that, like every other place in the vicinity of RLC, has been brought under the umbrella of its mysteries.  Indeed RLB's former parish priest Abbé Henri Boudet, contemporary of RLC's Bérenger Saunière, wrote La vraie langue celtique et le cromleck de Rennes-les-Bains (1886), in which he argued that that all languages derived from English!  An earlier book from RLB (1832) by Auguste de Labouïsse-Rochefort also recounts a legend about the Devil's treasure.  Clearly, the roots of the hidden treasure story lie farther back in time than de Sède.

Just to tighten the circle a little further, there is a plaque at  the Marceille basilica honoring Boudet!  but then again, he was born, lived and died very close to all of these places....

Our next goal was to see the Gorges de Galamus.  On the way we passed through a wide, green valley with a solitary mountain at the far end.  Some memory stirred in me.  When we passed through the town of Bugarach, something clicked.  I'd read about this place in the NYT.  Apparently in the 60's this mountain, the Pech de Bugarach, became a favored destination of French hippies, a powerful place along the lines of Sedona or Taos in the American South West.  In 2012 things came to a head, many New Age types descended on the place, there were more visitors than normal and the rhythm only increased as the fateful day in December approached that would mark the end of the Mayan calendar....and the world.  Some believed aliens living inside would carry people away.  This is essentially a New Age version of the Rapture.  Curiously, the Nation of Islam also has some teachings about UFOs and mountains:

The Honorable Elijah Muhammad said these planes were used to set up mountains on the earth. The Qur'an says it like this: We have raised mountains on the earth lest it convulse with you. How do you raise a mountain, and what is the purpose of a mountain? Have you ever tried to balance a tire? You use weights to keep the tire balanced. That's how the earth is balanced, with mountain ranges. The Honorable Elijah Muhammad said that we have a type of bomb that, when it strikes the earth a drill on it is timed to go into the earth and explode at the height that you wish the mountain to be. If you wish to take the mountain up a mile [1.6 km], you time the drill to go a mile in and then explode. The bombs these planes have are timed to go one mile down and bring up a mountain one mile high, but it will destroy everything within a 50-square-mile [130 km²] radius. The white man writes in his above top secret memos of the UFOs. He sees them around his military installations like they are spying.

Louis Farrakhan.  Source

Apparently, these UFOs will destroy America, but spare the Nation of Islam.  These UFOs all come from within one great Mother Plane, the spaceship of God, another take on the Rapture.  At Bugarach, a group of Gendarmes and firemen were called in to block access to the mountain due to fears of Heaven's Gate-like mass suicides. 

Pech de Bugarach; note the two aliens disguised as horses on the right

This was all a pleasant surprise.  It is a beautiful place and not devoid of a sense of mystery, something I felt before I even realized where I was.  Lonely mountains are often Holy Mountains, it's almost hard-wired into the brain.  A holy mountain in New Mexico called Chimayo, for example, receives over 300,000 pilgrims each year and the sanctuary there is said to be built where a hot spring once flowed, revered by Tewa Indians for....its healing powers.  The Pech de Bugarach was considered holy long before the hippies took it up for the very same reason as the Tewa.

Hermitage of Saint Anthony

The road through the Galamus gorge is perhaps the wildest road I've driven, cut straight into the rock, a sheer drop off one one side, a sheer cliff on the other.  It's not as hairy as it sounds, but it's certainly impressive.  Near one end of the road there is a hermitage built into the cliff.  This hermitage was built in 1782 following a miraculous intervention by Saint Anthony to save a nearby village from the ravages of "sweating sickness."  It's a beautiful place and a guy actually rents it from the town of Saint Paul de Fenouillet.  I asked him about the recent events at the Pech de Bugarach.  According to him, there were lots of journalists and policemen, but not the multitude of New Agers depicted in the media.  Perhaps his perception the events were not the same as those of the journalists.  Perhaps the journalist exaggerated it all for a good story.  I'd first read about in the New York Times, so who can say?

Sculpture group

I was struck by a prominent image of Saint Anthony at Rennes-le-Chateau, so this correspondence was especially meaningful in the context, especially given that there is grotto on the site dedicated to Mary Magdalene.  There's also a crucifixion sculpture which includes a blindfolded woman gazing into a hand mirror.  I've discussed the hand mirror before, as a woman reflecting the Divine light of reason onto an allegorical scene of Liberty.  It's also used to represent Venus, who I've also discussed in a previous post.  A blindfolded woman is often used to represent Justice.  But the two elements together is very curious and I wasn't certain what it represents until I asked around to some friends.  I'll come back to her.

This grotto also houses a spring at which a reproduction of Saint Bernadette's vision of the Virgin Mary.  Healing waters, yet again....

Chapel dedicated to the Saintes Puelles

From Galamus we pressed on to Tautavel in the hopes that I could get into the chapel dedicated to the Saintes Puelles.  It was too late to get the key the day I arrived and the following day also proved fruitless, as the woman with the key was occupied at the parish church for a funeral.  As I drank my coffee I heard the death knell and laughed at my own selfishness.  Too bad this funeral cock-blocked me from seeing the Puelles, I'd thought.  Oh yeah, that and someone's family was grieving!  So basically, no Puelles.  But Tautavel is an impossibly charming village, with a lovely space to camp by the river, abundant vineyards with wine of high repute and a museum dedicated to prehistory.  Some of Europe's oldest prehistoric artifacts were found here and the 450,000 year old Tautavel Man, perhaps a subspecies of H. erectus, inhabited the area.  Again, one is struck by the long history of human presence in the whole region, which adds a sense of wonder to the presence of healing waters and springs, most certainly the reason why people settled in these spots to begin with.  The life-giving waters took on a spiritual dimension over time, which seems only natural and for me anyway, adds a positive dimension to Catholic veneration.  Which is exactly why some Protestant groups vilify Catholicism as being too pagan and thus dilutes if not negates Christian exceptionalism.  My own view is that this exceptionalism is born of insecurity.  If so much of the Christian story can be found in classical and pagan prototypes, the belief in an exclusive path to salvation is threatened, which is simply bad for business.  Jewish precedent is okay, but God forbid if Christianity takes something from legends of Attis, Dionysus, Horus, Isis, Mithra...

Day two of my voyage was more abbreviated.  We left Tautavel towards Perillos, which has only come to my attention sometime in the past few years.  Perillos is an abandoned town now part of the municipality of Opoul.  Perillos is a bit of blank to me, but some believe that it is an element of the RLC mysteries, or rather, that the RLC mystery is actually part of the Perillos mystery.  Is the tomb of Christ located there?  What is its connection to the Apocalypse (shades of Bugarach).  Dig this:

The "secret" of Perillos really isn't so much a secret. The locals near Opoul-Perillos, the "old guys", still remember... they have stories of "the tomb of God", a site they were told by their elders not to go to and play. There are locals who observe bizarre events in and around Perillos, but keep quiet. Our organisation is almost like a "confessional", whereby these people can finally say, in all anonymity, what they see and know, and we often don't even shrug our shoulders when they tell what they know their wives or husbands would claim as "idiotic". This includes seeing apparitions of God, straight out of the Old Testament. Inverted rainbows.

Source

Chateau de Perillos

The way I went in is along a long and empty canyon.  There is definitely a mysterious feeling as one approaches the place, but then again, knowing what I know, this could easily be chalked up to a Romantic imagination.  It has even been connected to Notre Dame de Marceille.  It all links up because well, they are linked.  Perillos is only a few minutes from Tautavel, and Galamus, and Limoux.  Find the connections, run with it, speculate a bit, write a colorful account....good for tourism, good for making money on the flourishing trade in esoterica of all sorts.  That said, Perillos is worth looking into and the Societé Perillos has a good website that I've consulted more than once during the course of this post to verify my impressions of what I'd seen.  A lot of the information seems deliberately cryptic, but the Societé itself has mentioned they want to discourage the kind of treasure hunters who dug up the area around RLC looking for buried treasure.

This page sums up the Perillos "mystery"pretty well:

Apparently in 1995, one André Douzet found a model, allegedly made by or made for the priest Bérenger Saunière, of the areas associated with the passion of Christ, including the location of the tomb of Jesus and his uncle Joseph.  Thing is, it didn't match Jerusalem.  Douzet then recognized one of the features as a rock formation near Perillos.  The Seigneurs of Perillos were an illustrious family among whose number was once counted the Grandmaster of the Knights of Malta.  Our man Abbé Henri Boudet, contemporary of RLC's Bérenger Saunière, once directed the parish.  Saunière himself was known to have visited the area to have a look at local families' archives.  Douzet also came across a reference in local archives to a piece of land which prohibited anyone, including the Lords of Perillos, from collecting rocks, cutting wood or otherwise molesting it; it could not be sold, transferred or divided.  It was within the lands of the Lords, but they didn't own it, they merely guarded it.  Furthermore, cartographer Jacques Cassini, whose family made the first general maps of France, was known to have spent a year and a half there, yet his maps leave the site of the tombs blank.  Which means they either aren't there or he was looking for them and then kept it secret.  There are a lot of other details, but that's the general story.  Douzet claims to have found the tombs and some artifacts inside, yet in 2008 another researcher pronounced it was all a hoax.  Hoax or not, it is a lovely and wild spot and I loved it not for being the site of Jesus's tomb, but merely for the fact many believe it's true!

The rest of my journey was for the kids.  A human labyrinth in Trouillas, burro riding in Castelnou (another amazing village), a visit to the beach in Spain.  The last LoSian aspect of the trip was in Thuir, where there is yet another Vierge Noire, but alas!  This church too was closed.

Notre Dame de la Victoire

According to Ean Begg, Notre Dame de la Victoire is 50cm tall and made of lead, which accounts for her dark hue.  She dates from the late 12th century.  Apparently four statues were made from the same mould, two of which went to Spanish Catalonia and two to the Massif Central; both regions have dense concentrations of Black Virgins.  This statue replaced an earlier one, mentioned in the 10th c.  Like Notre Dame de Sabart, She helped Charlemagne defeat the Saracens; in this case by providing his exhausted troops with water.  Charlemagne apparently brought an image of the Virgin to a dry river bed and thrust his sword into the earth and a spring gushed up from the spot, which sounds very sexual to these ears.  A sword is planted and the earth gets wet, thus sustaining and bringing life to his troops.  This sexual/birth motif may be why, like Notre Dame de la Daurade, she is a patroness of childbirth.  Pieces of her robe, or a birthing belt are placed on the bellyof a woman in labor.  If I understand correctly, her feast day, October 7th, predates the defeat of the Ottoman Turks at Lepanto on the same day in 1571.  Like a lot of info from Begg, however, I'm careful about repeating that as fact.  For another example of a battle with Saracens which involves planting a phallic object in the ground, causing a spring to spurt out on the spot, see my discussion of St. Fris.

Castelnou

The conclusion of my voyage was a jaunt to the beach in Spain, then the long-ish drive home.  But there are any number of alternatives.  One could strike north for the arid beauty of the Corbières wine country, with a stop in Carcassonne on the road back to Toulouse.  The route between Perpignan and Andorra is magnificent, with two fortified cities I've yet to explore.  You get the picture.  I chose our route for it's convenience and it's mixture of history and pop-esoterica, sites never more than a half an hour or 45 minutes apart.  Drive a bit, explore a bit.  None of these places takes up too much time to explore.  I plan to return to Tautavel very soon, just camp and enjoy the river.  If I don't see the Saintes Puelles due to some reason or other, I'll only be able to conclude that there is a conspiracy of silence to keep me from seeing the chapel and exposing its secrets to the world!

But seriously, I do hope to explore Perillos a bit more, as there's talk in the air that it might be made off limits to protect it from treasure-seekers, even perhaps put under the control of the military!  This isn't as ominous as it sounds, as there is a large military base nearby which may in fact be contiguous with the abandoned town.

Bottom line is that if you want to travel in France, you've got something for everyone in this little itinerary, a logistically perfect little nugget.  I went to see many of the thing I've previously discussed on LoS, such as the sarcophagus of St. Sernin or the statue of the Saintes Puelles.  On that front it was something of a failure.  But I made a lot of little discoveries and connections to other areas of interest, all the while spending some good times with the kids, teaching them some proper camping skills and a little about history.  Cathars, UFOs, esoteric sects, what could be better?

I'm also going to look into this Boudet character.  His book is full of wordplay and puns.  Given that de Sède was involved in surrealist and Oulipo groups, this makes me wonder if de Sède had read this book and it influenced him to write his own book.  RLC research is rife with mystical toponymy, puns, double-entendre and decoding ciphers.  In 1991 a Flemish researcher decoded some of Boudet's book and was led to Limoux, more specifically the basilica of Notre Dame de Marceille, where he discovered secret vault by the river.  Some have speculated that an entire underground complex exists beyond a blocked-up tunnel from the vaults.  So that underground treasure people are looking for around RLC may just be slightly farther afield than thought.  If we think back to the legend of this particular Black Virgin, we recall that She was dug up from the ground.  Is it possible that this is the vault where She was found, and that the vault is the original chapel built to house Her?  Or, if it is indeed far older, could it have been a pagan temple or shrine and that the Virgin found there was in fact a pre-Christian idol?

Further inquiries in my library reveal that Saillens (Nos Vierges Noires) says the locals called her "our sibyl" and believes that to be the case, the pagan prototype being Cybele.  Cybele is a mother of the gods and is often associated with Attis, whose myth has many features later ascribed to the birth, life and death of Jesus.  In Vierges Noires, Cassagnes-Brousset notes that a nearby (how near?) archaeological dig uncovered a figurine of Belisama, a Celtic goddess the Gallo-Romans identified with Minerva/Athena.  This goddess was both warrior and healer, associated among other things with lakes and rivers.

Marceille is an ancient place with Paleolithic, Neolithic, and Bronze age articles found in the vicinity; a Gallo-Roman villa was located nearby.  Perhaps the vault was related to the villa, its location near the church coincidental, unless the basilica replaced a pre-Christian temple.  The current statue is a reproduction of the decapitated version dating back to the 11th c., yet the basilica was begun in the 14th.  Was the vault its original shrine?  Tradition holds that like so many other Vierges Noires, this wooden sculpture replaced an even older version.  As it turns out, this theory is discussed in some detail by the Societé Perillos.  I urge you to read that essay, if only for this curious detail:  She was originally inscribed with the words "Do not look at me, because I became brown." according to a text entitled Hommage au Baron Podenas.

Became?  Very curious, but we must be cautious, for I can find the Hommage au Baron Podenas  referenced anywhere else....bear that in mind as you read what follows.

There seem to be some curious traditions about eyes of this statue, which are indeed quite large.  The imperative to "avert your eyes" made me think of the blindfolded figure at Galamus and another curious detail popped up: both figures are smiling....tradition even has it that "he who sees the statue [ND de Marceille] smiling at him, is certain to obtain the grace which he came to beseech.”  A pal suggests the blindfolded figure is Synagoga, a figure usually paired with Ecclesia  to represent the replacement of Judaism by Christianity; the Jews cannot "see" that Jesus was the Christ.

Confirmation is to be found at the site itself, I'd neglected to read the sign.  This sign states that the group depicts Ascension of Christ and is called Christ and Humanity.  The woman standing represents hope for salvation, whereas the seated woman is blind to this opportunity.  Thus my friend is right, she is essentially Synagoga and the other woman, Ecclesia.  My friend also points out this page with a picture of the group, but it appears to be in white marble; a caption says the photos were taken at an unused church some years ago but the sculpture is now at the hermitage.  So the red version we see is either a copy, or it has been painted.  This latter possibility seems odd to me, but is is possible  One would then wonder why such a dark, earth-red hue was chosen.

Perhaps any explicit reference to Synagoga has been removed due to some interpretations of the figures as essentially anti-Semitic, although recent scholarship is apparently more nuanced.

The ensemble was a gift of local sculptor G.A. Grouille, not an especially common name and not usual for this area.  The verb grouiller, which I came across looking for the name, means to be full of something or to swarm.  Thinking I might have a pseudonym, I looked for clues in the name, but it doesn't help much.  It is a real name though, I just can't seem to find any other references to the artist.

I also recall that there was a Sator Square carved into a stone in a chapel at the hermitage.  This kind of word square is pre-Christian and consists of a series of five words written on a grid.  It is a palindromic acrostic.  Best thing is to follow the link and see it for yourself.  Needless to say, this kind of wordplay would have appealed to Boudet, or to de Sède.  Ostensibly it is Latin, but one of the words, "Arepo", may be Celtic in origin.  That would certainly have interested Boudet.  Could he have placed it there?  The possible translations that have been proposed include "The farmer Arepo has [as] works wheels [a plough]" and "The sower holds the works and wheels by means of water."  This seems to relate to elements of the Marceille legend, and the Sator Square is believed to have magical uses, including putting out fires, which just happens to be one of the properties of Notre dame de Marceille.

Leaving that question aside, I should also report that She was also stolen during the Revolution; the records of the case do imply a kind of conspiracy involving people who knew about, and used, the secret vaults.  Again, curious details.  Secret vaults, a theft, a later decapitation.  Little wonder she has excited so much interest.

There's certainly more to investigate here, but that may best be left for time and serendipity to work out.  My inquiries keep leading me to the same unique sources, which is a good enough reason to pause and look for other angles.

But for the moment, Daurade is tired out.  I'm sure I'll come across more in my further readings and travels that will lead me back to these speculations, but for now, I feel this is the post I was looking for, hopefully a return to productivity, if not form!

Friday, November 30, 2012

A brief travelogue: Buenos Aires, Santa Fe, Montevideo, Rio de Janeiro

The following is a lightly-edited collection of Facebook posts made from the road.  Something to tide us all over until I get into the more regular LoSian aspects of my voyage (Masonic monuments, folk saints, etc.)  Disfrutalo!

October 12

I am now unemployed for the first time in 10 years. The colleagues gave me a nice lunch feast of crazy French cheeses, one of which smelled like a dead thing, but tasted oh so good! And they gave me a nice Swiss Army knife too, which is super thoughtful, coz X---- lost mine and I was always telling the office manager how I needed to get another.

I was surprised how sad this made me about leaving, but I'm very excited about the freedom! (Cried out like William Wallace in Braveheart!)

One week: Buenos Aires, baby, like a Nazi on the lam!

October 22 

So we're safely in Buenos Aires. Talk about the teeming metropolis. A bit overwhelming, hard times but the city bustles and grows. I saw a Ferrari dealer as well as dozens of people sleeping in hovels made of trash. Lots of funny graffitti, as well as lots of anti-English stuff about the Falklands, but I don't dare use the word....It's "Las Malvinas" here. Great place, and soon off to Montevideo.

Good luck with that, sir.
October 24 

Turns out it will be cheaper to drive to Montevideo from X---'s home town of Santa Fe. We're going to do that in 10 days or so. Meanwhile we're going to relax here in SF. A lot like Florida, reminds me of Tampa in some ways. A lot more chilled out than Buenos Aires, mercifully....beautiful weather, river, swaying palms. We're going to the city center a little later. 

Our bus ride last night was pretty wild for about an hour as we had to cut through barely adequate roads crammed with buses and trucks; the "piqueteros"--mostly unemployed people, had "occupied" the freeway around Rosario, as they often do there, in protest. Of what exactly, we're not sure, but probably due to recent flooding that has left the shantytowns in shambles. But don't get the impression that all is squalor, etc. Santa Fe is orderly and seems pretty prosperous, a lot of what you'd expect to find in any relatively large American city. The contrast [between those with money and those without] is just a bit more stark. But then again, I haven't been to the states for a few years now....

Costanera, Santa Fe, Aregentina
 October 27 

So, the days are hot enough for the pool, and the humidity and mosquitoes are par for the course. Yesterday I visited the Santa Fe brewery....the free visit includes a ticket for a "liso" in the beer garden and a sack with two bottles of their flagship lagers. Santa Fe, the beer, is a light and crisp lager, far superior to Quilmes, which is like the Budweiser of the country. That said, the Santa Fe brewery also produces Budweiser! My daily routine is, get up at 8 or 9, drink a couple cups of joe, then take a walk. Today I took more than an hour to walk along the river then head in to the basilica, then back through verdant neighborhoods to my in-laws. Of course stopping for a beer along the way. Today we're gonna grill a chicken. The other day I had a two-inch steak and my knife cut thru that mofo like it was buttah. An Argentine pal once told me Argentina exports great beef and fine women. Political incorrectness aside, I can vouch for both assertions.

Santa Fe: better than Quilmes!
 October 29 

Went motor-boating yesterday and tried pitifully to do some wake-boarding, the only result is a pair of sore shoulders and a sunburn. The river was beautiful, and it was nice to get away from town and see the vast expanse of the pampa. As I watched A----- grinning on the board behind us, I was reminded of that scene in Apocalypse Now where Lance is skiing behind the PBR and wreaking havoc on the fishermen. All I needed was an M-16 in my hands to make the scene complete. Ancestral memory perhaps, with a tip of the hat to pops and Uncle D--, I miss you both dearly. Never get out of the boat.... 

Today I'll get to humiliate myself further as the family goes off for a tango lesson, of all things. Like Rob Base and DJ EZ Rock put it, "It takes two...." At least afterwards there will be an asado and some of that fabulous beer. 

Took a spin in town and saw an Argentine mall, bought some gaucho pants (bombacho de campo) elsewhere (I actually saw a young gaucho in a pair of these, on horseback with bandana and beret and was jealous--truly a handsome fellow, almost a bit like a young Che Guevara). Also got myself a small figurine of San La Muerte, Saint Death, a golden-robed skeleton praying from a Santeria shop, filled with statuettes, soaps, oils, incense. Death worshipped overtly. The flags they sell of this guy are like something from a heavy metal album cover: Grim Reaper cool as fuck, sitting on a golden throne decorated with skulls. No pussy-footing about here. Have also seen a number of shrines to Gauchito Gil....read my earlier posts (here and here) for clarification on this fellow. His roadside shrines are announced by red flags. Wild stuff.

Humidity, mosquitoes, Santeria, Spanish spoken at every turn. Where am I, Florida? :)

Ole Man Rio
 November 2 

The two tango classes went well. It's very difficult, but apparently I did ok. Today I walked about 10k in the city and got listlessly drunk as I stopped for beers occasionally, mostly getting another so I could use the toilet as the last one worked its way through me. Tomorrow, finally, Montevideo!


November 7 

Finally crossed the pampa. Such a vast expanse it's almost overwhelming. The dome of the sky not so much above but around you, drooping down to the horizon in a pale blue that makes it easier to understand the color of the Argentine flag. In Uruguay, we traveled five hours and crossed only four towns, only one of which was of significant size. Just rolling hills, cows and a hot, hot sun. We took a dip in a one of the many rivers we crossed to cool down on the way back. At that point I was limp with heat and coated in sweat. Sweltering. 

Uruguay is lovely. The people, laid back and friendly. In Montevideo, you have an orderly and tranquil city of one and a half million; big enough to be a city, but still very manageable. Where I stayed, it was on a thin peninsula that allowed you to see water in two directions at the terminus of the corridor of buildings, never very long, no vanishing point, just sky or sea. This position was favorable for the constant breeze which kept the air cool and fresh. 

I did a lot of walking and will blog a bit about the Masonic symbolism I saw everywhere. One example is the monument to Artigas. His mausoleum is a large underground space and above his remains, on the plaza above, there is a truncated pyramid, the top of which is open to let a shaft of light fall upon his urn.

I also saw a lot of Gauchito Gil shrines along the route but somehow didn't photograph a single example! I will hit the road again tomorrow for this purpose, as today, after 12 hours on the road yesterday, I'm to beat to do anything but sit by the pool and drink some beers. Life is very hard for me. 

Montevideo flea market
 November 12 

If you ever get to one place in South America, you have got to come to Rio de Janeiro. This place is insanely beautiful. Truly the most remarkable city I've ever visited. I've had more sensory input in 24 hours than I get in a year at home. I sat on a terrace the first night drinking til dawn, the trees all around crashing with noise. Don't mind that, it's just the monkeys and fruit-bats and over ripe mangoes falling to the ground. 

The terrace where we're staying overlooks downtown, and somewhere down the hill that night there was a dance party and blasting up was music and karaoke....LL Cool J, C+C Music Factory. I loved it. Partying til dawn, music heard for blocks around and the cops don't come to make it stop! 

Rio's all nestled among these wild pointy mountains that make each part of the city almost like a little town unto itself. You pass through these tunnels and emerge on the other side....there's some view of mountain and sea so unbelievably picturesque that it's hard not to hoot with joy. One one side of the tunnel is 32°C and on the other side, 23°! Take your pick. Broil on the beach or chill out in a cafe.....

The beach at Ipanema, packed! Everyone has a tattoo. Not as many of those famous barely-there bikinis as one is led to believe. A constant parade of vendors selling soda, boiled corn on the cob, fried cheese and most importantly....beer. Hell yeah. In Florida they'll write you a ticket and hassle you for enjoying a brewski by the waves. Here it's open commerce. Small explosions in the distance! Firecrackers going off. Why, who knows.

Later, at the bobo Santa Teresa neighborhood, people walking down the streets in groups playing drums while lovely women dance before them....other people grilling BBQ in the street....each bar overflowing with people--all ages, social classes, sexualities, color. This is one of the most reflexively tolerant places I've ever been too, reflecting it's wild diversity for centuries. One dude with a perm, died red, with a tattoo that said 666 La Bestia. A drunken gay guy with brilliant tattoos telling me he was sorry he couldn't speak Portuguese in a way that I would understand him more easily. An old dude in ball cap, flip-flops and soccer jersey shaking a rattle along with the band, in his own world. People in the audience pick up rattles, triangles, boxes of wood to serve as drums. Music is part of the life-fabric here. Everyone looking pretty happy, never once a dour or aggressive gesture.

Overall, the people aren't remarkably beautiful, but when they are, my jaw drops. But I think it's the beauty of the setting that clinches it all....the sea, the mountains, the trees, the smell of vegetation in the middle of a busy part of town. I'm seriously considering moving here for a year.

And yeah, I realize this is the romantic view. I've left out the three highly-armed soldiers I saw hanging about a busy street to ensure order, the favelas and their poverty lining the hills above the ritzy places, the shocking disparity of wealth, the violence, the drugs. But I haven't experienced that yet and if I sound a bit giddy with the charm of it all, it's because I am giddy and amazed. I've been a few places in my 42 years, and so far, this place tops them all!

Downtown Rio, my view
 November 17 

It's been rainy and grey the last few days, so all those days at the beach haven't panned out, the colors are less vibrant and we're disinclined to stroll about as much. We've still managed a couple of walks though, and I've blown through a couple of books already.

Those heady first days I described before were from the back of a motorcycle, which definitely gives one a different perspective then when going by foot. Walking, the smells and grottier aspects of life catch up to you. I'm still enamored or this city and am scheming to find a way to make it possible to live here a month or two each year....during the kids' school holidays. I understand more and more of what's being said to me and am starting to use the language myself. Knowing a fair bit of Spanish helps, as many words are almost identical and with a certain inflection you can turn the Spanish into the Portuguese quite easily.

Yesterday we rode on this cable car that crosses the sky above the biggest favela in the world. You're a hundred feet of the ground or more, or sometimes right above the roof tops of houses constructed entirely without permits or ownership of land. What began as a shantytown is a city unto itself. I'll have to pop up some photos. Very odd though, ostensibly the cable cars are also a means of public transportation, so it costs 50 cents or so to make the entire 20 minute journey. But each 'station' is atop a massive hill so for the favela residents it's not very practical. Hard not to avoid the conclusion that it's for some weird kind of tourism. You get great views of the city and you can peer down into this different world of poverty without actually stepping foot into it. Quite perverse. We almost walked back through the favela to the metro, my sister in law does it often, but then again, she looks as if she could be Brazilian. We decided that having two "Swiss blond" kids at our sides would attract too much attention. On the bus going to the cable car station, kids looked at us as though we were Martians. Not uncomfortable, but still. Better safe than sorry.

So, other than the favelas, we went through the colorless and shabby quarters which are certainly not charmless, but aren't the kinds of places one would want to live in. If someone plopped you into Rio near these ports and concrete wastelands you'd wonder wtf I was talking about in my earlier comments!

Also, Brazil is a police state. There are cops everywhere. Military police with machine guns, municipal guards with batons, another special "pacification unit" for the favelas. Apparently they parked a tank on a hill overlooking one of the favela neighborhoods to show some muscle. This is not a pleasant fact, the police can be corrupt and brutal. Not all are, but people do disappear, get shot in the back, beaten.

But the city is pretty safe overall. This is the other side of the coin, the not so shiny side, but it's still a damn interesting coin!

To infinity and beyond
 November 18 

Took a two-hour walk today to walk off the hangover, cuz Mr. Sun is back in action! Parts of the city were eerily quiet, others bustling. Everywhere I saw people, many were going to the beach, naturally. I was glad to get back and rest my feet after my diverse stroll, thoroughly lost by the end. Rio is rich in monuments, graffitti, strange characters and other marvels. Several urban kilometers in flip-flops is torture, though. Flip-flops, btw, are de rigeur footwear here. Wanna be recognized as a gringo, slap on some sensible shoes.  In shades, shorts, t-shirt and flippity-floppities, people take me for a carioca. I mutter one word replies and I don't even think they realize I haven't a clue. I love the anonymity of the cosmopolitan city!

Yow!
 November 22 

I was pretty bummed returning to France. 2 days ago I was on the beach with a beer. Now it's cold, the sky is grey, the people are grey.....but then I had dinner, and it was all better. Nothing compares to the food in France! Thanksgiving dinner was magret de canard with red potatoes fried up in the fat, a salad of lettuce, noisette, slices of orange and chunks of jambon serrano. Then a creme à chocolate with dulce de leche. Topped of with a fruity Buzet red, 2008. Yum!