The Blithe Traveler

Nostalgia

You know that antsy feeling every mammal on earth has when the light dims earlier each day and they sense the shifting temps coming? I'm wrapped up in fleece and feeling sad. Let's go back to summer, shall we? 

The Ice Cream Truck

We were preparing dinner in the kitchen on a hot August night with all of the windows open when I heard the music. I spent the first five years of my life living in the Bronx, running in open fire hydrants on hot summer nights and careening down four flights of stairs with a nickle in my sweaty paw when I heard the tinny sound of the Ice Cream Truck music, as it drove up to the corner of Briggs Avenue.

I could not believe my ears; could that be the identical tinny music in my Ticky-Tacky neighborhood forty five years later? We three heard it around the same time and raised our heads, ears pricked.

"What is that?" asked Tom.

"That," I replied, suddenly five years old again, "is an Ice Cream Truck!!"

To which my children replied, "And what, mother dear, is an Ice Cream Truck?"

It was an honest to goodness ice cream truck. That's Hope, buying her first, and potentially only cone from an Ice Cream Truck. I know, the b&w filter is tragic, but I am feeling nostalgic and all of my earliest photos were in black and white. 

Ice Cream Truck Dude explained that he does "events," so he goes to parties, ball games, that sort of thing, where he drives his Ice Cream truck to the event, parks it and sells ice cream. I might want that job. He drives through neighborhoods on his way to and from events, so this was a one-off kind of deal. Particularly given that my kid was the only one parting with cash on this hot summer night. 

Our Home Town Diner

A short bike ride from our new digs is a road that has this sign. I explained to the children that "No Outlet" is the new "Dead End." 

We promptly headed down the road, which caused the children to ask what in the heck I was doing. If the road had NO OUTLET, what exactly was the point of going down it? Clearly it is time to introduce these children to Robert Frost. 

I will say that as someone who lived at the end of the DEAD END for the ten years of my life the ended in high school graduation I always hated people who drove down the road just to see what was at the end of the dead end. WE were at the end of the dead end, so, move along, people! Nothing to see here!

But now that I am old and reasonably well traveled, I understand the road less traveled itch that causes people to want to, you know, just check it out.

So glad we did. Look what we found! Our very own Home Town Diner! 

It's a brilliant place, and exactly what you would expect from Your Very Own Home Town Diner: crayons and a placemat to color.

I should clarify that this restaurant does have egress on a more well traveled road. But, given its location, it is not something we would have ever stumbled upon without our curious expedition down the No Outlet road. I do hope the No Outlet people will forgive our transgression. 

Our Local Movie Theatre

We went to the movies one afternoon during our last weeks of summer freedom. A matinee cost three dollars a person. When was the last time you went to a movie and it cost three dollars?

A weeknight will set me back four bucks, but the children are still only six bucks for the two of them. What. A. Deal.

Of course, we're talking about movies you can probably see on Netflix, but still, you get to go to a movie theater! We're just waiting for Guardians of the Galaxy to show up. Another couple of months and it will be there, for sure.

Of course, the other issue is distance. While this is the closest movie theater to us by a long shot, it's a twenty minute drive. But then, what isn't a twenty minute drive these days? 

 Next: Yes, Susan, Higher Standards! 

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(1) Hope, Tom and I celebrate our birthdays in a week's span.

And So We Come To the Logical End of This Blog

I am no longer living overseas. "Blithe Traveler" is a misnomer, unless you find stories about how I occasionally get lost on my way to Wal-Mart entertaining. 

Hope is rather adamant that I should stop blogging now: "We are not interesting people any more! What could you possibly write about?" says the red haired girl. Tom, on the other, is a fan of the blog. He and I have a similar sense of humor, so he finds me entertaining. Whereas Hope just thinks I am a bit ridiculous. 

The problem is, I do like to write. I'm not completely clear that I care if anyone is reading, but I do seem to have a strong desire to pound on a keyboard. Plus, I think Hope is wrong. We bought a farm, we will continue to do some, significantly more limited, but some travel, and, there are always horses. It is where I got my start as a "writer." While we may or  may not be "interesting people," I do think there are interesting things to write about. 

For example, meet Ginger. She's an honest-to-goodness rescued horse. She came from Camelot in New Jersey. She's a lesson horse, and the nicest one you will ever meet. She is honest, willing, sensible, and not in the least opinionated or mare-ish. 

She and I are going to hang out for a few months (I'm half leasing her for September and October). I am not sure there is time or money in my life for horses in the next few years, but I'm giving it a go for a few months to see what happens if I try to ride a few days a week. 

Apart from Ginger, I have a few ideas for topics that I'd like to chat about, so I think I'll post things as they come up. Maybe some moving stories, farm stories, life stories. Not every day, of course. But, when I feel the urge. 

So, thanks for reading, I'll be around. In the meantime, I need to get back to my kitchen; as usual, things are a mess and it's long past time for me to get cracking.  

Ellen 

Next: Leather Cleaning, My New Favorite Product (and it's not Leather Therapy)

Marathon Results

So, I finished. Yeah, me! 50 years, two days, 26.2 miles. That photo is right at the finish. I was smiling, happy and if I had hind legs, I would have been overtracking. The prior three miles or so had been a bit more tortured, but by those last couple hundred meters, I was prancing. 

Prance! Prance! Prance!

\

My performance, when measured against expectation (4:30 minutes) did not hit the mark: 5:16. Way, way off the mark, as a matter of fact. There are a million reasons why this is so, but at the heart of it, I finished. Finished happy, strong, and fit enough that I headed home, took a nap, had a bath, took Hope out to a local barn where she has been taking a few lessons, lunged her on a horse, came home and made dinner. So, not dead. 

But also pretty happy to call it a day on marathons. 

At the end of the day, I like running half marathons. The distance just suits me. I can run it, finish, and walk away happy. For this race, I hit 13 miles happy as a clam, and managed the next five or so still thinking it was all down hill. By mile 20, though, I was over it. Boredom was a huge part of the problem.

The course was beautiful, as it ran along the Lehigh Valley River, mostly on rail trails far outside of traffic, but it took me five hours and 16 minutes. Even for a devoted introspect, that is a lot of time inside my own head. I think if I had had a regular running companion (or even someone to run with that day), and if I were to have managed the 4:30 minute estimate, it would have been a more pleasant experience. 

Not that it was unpleasant. But the amount of time it took to train for it, the amount of time it took to actually run, the twinges in my quads that I can still feel on Tuesday morning, plus the deadly smell of Arnica that lingers everywhere I go, suggest that I might well stick to what I like doing: 13 miles at a time. 

Now that's sad: I didn't use my beer ticket. 

 

 

 

Happy 50th (To Me!) And a Marathon Update

Today, I am 50. The good news is that I don't feel a day over 47, so I'm doing well. 

Ha! Kidding. I feel about 27 with some strange joint aches and really crappy vision. And two kids. 

To celebrate reaching this astonishing age, I would have liked to have a huge party with all of my friends in our beautiful new house on the farm. But I haven't had time to catch up with old friends, let alone make new ones, and as the "beautiful new house on the farm" is a couple of years away, the party would basically have been me and Jeff roasting hot dogs over a fire on the hill. Having the local Fire Department along later in the evening would still not make it the Best! 50th! Ever! 

Instead, I decided to run a marathon: a full 26.2 mile, out-of-doors genuine marathon, scheduled practically in my back yard, two days after my 50th birthday. 

The decision process was a tortured one, as you might expect for someone deciding to embark upon a painful physical activity as a way to celebrate moving ever closer to that last circle around the drain. 

Several months back when we were still in Europe, Jeff casually remarked that as half marathons were so easy for me now (and they are, no kidding), maybe I should set my sights higher and run a full. I can still feel the residue of the indignation I felt at that. What the heck!? Just because something becomes easy doesn't mean it isn't fun any more! Or challenging! I really love being able to run 13 miles at the drop of a hat. It doesn't define me, per se. I always hedge when people ask me if I am a "runner." No, not really, "a runner," but I do run very slow half marathons, frequently. 

Jeff didn't mean it in any kind of a mean spirited way, he was just suggesting that if I wanted to, I could probably run a real marathon without too much trouble. 

When I simmered down, I realized he had a point. I really could run a marathon if I wanted to. I have a solid base, so the "training" would only be an incremental eight weeks or so of ever increasing longer runs over what I usually do. 

Still in Europe, I checked the local fall running calendar in our soon-to-be-new area, and discovered the aforementioned fact that there would be a full marathon two days after my birthday, twenty minutes from our new house. Irresistible. 

I kept quiet about for for several weeks. I printed out a marathon training schedule, checked to be sure I was on track with mileage, and started to follow it. When I was pretty sure the training schedule was reasonable and I could manage it, I mentioned the idea of a marathon to Jeff. I was actually important to get him on board, as we were talking about the weekend of my 50th birthday. He had made passing mentioned of Iceland,for the love of Pete, so if "I" was going to do this, "we" needed to know about it.

Given that my birthday falls in early September, though, and the first weekend after school started, it did not seem fair to me to plan to be away. The children were going to be tired and potentially shell shocked, and at the end of the day, being able to run 26 miles seemed like it would be a better "I'm 50!" statement than soaking in random geo-thermal pools. 

I may still regret this decision, but let's try to be positive, shall we? 

The basic kit: 1. Technical shirt from Prague marathon, my Half Personal Best, meant to inspire me to be fleet of foot. 2. Sports bra with padding, to prevent the unattractive "headlamp" look. Ick. 3. Compression Socks. The Cool Kids wear Pro Compression, which cost fifty bucks on Amazon (link: no affiliation, so click away, there's nothing in it for me: click). I wear these awesome Old Lady Compression socks that I paid $12 for on sierratradingpost.com. I look like a dork, but I honestly don't think I'd look that much less dorky in the $50 version. 4. Skort to prevent the dreaded camel toe. 

In typical fashion, I stuck to the training schedule like glue.  Until I got busy. Having back to back houseguests for two months as you are trying to move yourself from one continent to another is not for the faint of heart. While I managed to keep all of the balls in the air, seemingly most houseguests had a pretty good time, and we did manage the move, the running thing fell apart. I did fine up until those last two weeks.

Unfortunately, my languor lasted at least another two weeks upon arrival in the US. I had an outdoor pool, and indoor treadmill and an entire new country to explore, but "running" took a serious back seat to shifting the children to the myriad of camps they were attending, racing between house and farm, and desperately trying to orient myself and upack the house. Neither of which, months later, have actually happened.

I hadn't told many people about my presumed goal, so it wasn't going to be a massive loss of face if I didn't run. I hadn't even formally signed up for the event, so it wasn't like I was going to lose my hundred bucks if I didn't show up. It just felt as though I was copping out. It was hard to run, I was busy, I didn't really have time.

The Extended, I've Been Doing This A While Now, Kit: 1. Cool Dude Head Rag: I may or may not actually wear this race day, because, it really does make me look like a total dork, but it's meant to wick away sweat. I wear them under helmets (biking, riding, and potentially some day skiing), so some day in the future, I'll do a review of them. They are handy, and not too dear on Amazon. 2. Body Glide, so proper supportive undergarments and running skort do not result in, *ahem* chaffing. Plus, use on feet to reduce blisters. Plus, remember to trim toenails. Trim 'em, or lose, 'em! 3. Waist belt: most proper serious runners go as light as they can. I prefer to have my stuff with me. Forgotten in the photo are my "running gels" which go into the waist pack. I'm bringing 3, and plan to use one at the start, at the half way point, and then again at 20 miles. If you don't eat during the race, you will bonk, for sure. 4. I *love* my Yur Buds! Expensive, but worth it. They stay in my ears, vs every other ear bud I have ever tried, with fall out (expensive, like $30 expensive). 5. I will also run with my iPhone, which proper runners would never do: too heavy. They use Garmins to track time and distance. I use my phone to listen to music and I'll be taking photos along the way. Hey, I'm in it for the experience, not to pass myself off as a proper runner. I bought this arm band from Ebay probably four years ago for five bucks. In rain storm, it's not going to protect the phone, but otherwise it seems to work just fine. 

And then one afternoon it hit me: I was going to skip doing something in my heart I really wanted to do because I was too lazy to get my act together and just freaking run. 

So, got up at dawn and ran. And did the same the next day. I printed out my training schedule and posted it on the fridge and ran some more. I hadn't lost as much time as someone starting fresh, because I had such a solid base, and I picked it up like I had never stopped. I ran in the pool, I ran on the treadmill, I ran every mile on that stupid chart in some form or another. I ran the 14 mile long run, I ran the 18 mile long run, and despite putting it off until past the last possible minute, I ran the 20 mile long run on a treadmill. I probably would have succumbed to boredom, but I could definitely have run another 6 miles. 

So, I'm ready. 

The risk of injury is of course high. I could twist an ankle at mile marker 6 and be done. I could end up with severe cramps and have to quit. The run is in early September, so it could be hot enough that slow runners like me will end up running when it is way too hot out, and heat prostration is no fun. But I am going to give it my best shot to finish. I'm hoping for a 4 hour, 30 minute run, so pretty slow, but not anywhere near the sweep time of 6 hours. And if it takes me longer than 4 hours and 30 minutes, so long as it doesn't take me 6 hours, who cares? 

Wish me luck! 

 

One Last Look at Prague

The end. Possibly the last time in my life I will ever be in Prague. Although, I can't quite imagine that, you know? 

I didn't even take many pictures. Although that one was probably a reasonable representation of our trip. 

We only spent two nights in the city, as my brother and his family were flying out of Prague back to the US. Whereupon, the children and I drove back to Vienna, packed up the apartment and ... we all four headed back to the US. 

Blithe Travelers no more.

Tomorrow (and I do mean TOMORROW):  Happy 50th (to me!) and a Marathon Update

 

Villa Tugendhat, The Interior

“The purpose of the structure provides it with its actual sense. (…) A dwelling should only serve for housing. The location of the structure, its location in relation to the sun, the layout of the spaces and the construction materials are the essential factors for creating a dwelling house. A building organism must be created out of these conditions.”

These thoughts were expressed by Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in the year 1924 and fully employed on the Brno Villa. Villa Tugendhat 

Alas, my photos will not do this magnificent house justice, so close your eyes (maybe between paragraphs; it's hard to read with your eyes closed) and try to imagine you are in Brno ... I am also going to link to a virtual tour of the house at the end of this post. If you are the patient sort, and are genuinely interested, it's worth it.  

We'll start with the back of the house again, because that's where the house is really happening. The "front" is just the street view and a place to park the car.

The views are to the back, and the garden area. The top floor of the house, the street entrance level are the large windows at the very top; those are the bedrooms. There is a terrace that wraps around the outside of the back and each of the bedrooms opens out onto it. The terrace is completely separate from the "public" areas of the house, giving the family an intimate view of the city from the privacy of their sleeping quarters. 

The middle level in the back-of-house photo, is the "living" level. These are the three enormous windows that look out to the back garden. There is a lower level, but it's primarily functional, with storage and furnace, that sort of thing (Mies was a genius on all levels, so the HVAC system he built into the house was way ahead of its time, unfortunately, I'm not the best person to talk about it). 

The tour starts at the formal entrance, where you put on your booties to protect the Italian Marble floors. Amazing that they survived the hooves of the Russian horses stabled in the house, but your Italian stilettos will do a number on them. 

Check out the massive exotic wood doors. They are twelve feet high and flush with the ceiling. Here is Greta Tugendhat, speaking on Mies and her husband, Fritz Tugendhat: “When my husband objected to the idea of having all of the doors reach from the floor all the way to the ceiling, because all the so-called specialists had told him that these kinds of doors would warp, Mies answered, then I will not build. This would have affected the main principle of the structure and he would not allow this to be a matter of discussion.”  

Not the sort of architect I would want to be working with. That said, neither would I want to actually live in Villa Tugendhat, despite my now oft repeated love for the place. It's more of a theoretical love, than a practical love. Imagine it as though one found, say George Clooney the sort who made you a bit swoony. Now, would you really want to end up married to a dude like that? No, of course not. Fun to look at from afar, but seriously not practical. 

Villa Tugendhat is austere to the extreme. This is the nursery. The photos Fritz Tugendhat took while he and Greta were living there with their children indicated that there were some allowances made, and small framed artworks hung on the wall, but the entire interior was white. 

Very clinical, and one would not think terribly practical for children, although if you had a staff cleaning up after your children, maybe that sort of thing doesn't come into play at all? And at the end of the day, the Tugendhat's just loved it; their house, their style. Or their house, their architect, his style, as it were.  

So, the living quarters are nice enough. The first time I toured the Villa I was pretty "meh" as we circulated through the bedrooms. While the views from the bedrooms are spectacular, and these windows do make mighty fine "artwork," I did find it all a bit too sterile. 

But then, you walk down the stairs, and Sister Mercy, the views of the city ... the views that are pretty spectacular up in the bedroom area ... are suddenly in your lap. 

The photo does not do justice to the size of the room: it is massive. And the feeling of the room: it is open planning taken to an extreme where the "open" encompasses not only the inside of the house, but the outside too. 

I recognize that this sort of feeling is not for everyone. Some people really love traditional "rooms" in a house, but I have a deep love for open planning where families can gather to eat, talk, play games, and just be together in one big space. Having it be an inside out space makes it all the more fabulous. Nothing would make me happier than being able to live in a space that makes me feel this way, feel as though I am living outside in my house surrounded by the people I enjoy being with most.

Although, Jeff would be the first to point out that I require far more pillows than Mies would ever have allowed. 

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Right here I'm going to give up on my own photos. Really it's hopeless. If you are interested in seeing how gorgeous this house is in real life and can't manage to drop everything and run to Brno right now, please check out the Virtual Tour. 

No photograph of this house can convey the right impression. One has to move around in this house, its rhythm is like music.

Ludwig Hilberseimer, 1931  

Virtual Tour (believe me, totally worth the time): click

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But just so I don't come across as a completley lazy slug, here are a few of my last favorite bits. The Onxy Wall: 

The so-called onyx wall is a truly remarkable decorative and at the same time functional stone element in the interior of the Villa. The honey-coloured, yellow rock with white veins was mined from the Atlas Mountains in former French Morocco in North Africa and is actually aragonite sediment (calcium carbonate). “I do not know which stonemason company Mies obtained the stone from. Mr. Lohan told me he found it in Hamburg where it was supposed to be used for the production of two large vases for a luxury steamer. It had been committed to be sold, consequently they did not want to oblige Mies. He was so impressed by it, however, that he refused to give in and finally obtained it in the end (…) Mies personally supervised the exact cutting and placing of the slab so as to allow the lines of the stone to stand out properly.” The special characteristics of the onyx are intensified during the winter sunny days. “When it was sufficiently demonstrated that the stone was transparent and that certain veins on the back side shone red when lit up from the front by the sunset, it was a joyous surprise for even him (Mies).”  Villa Tugendhat

 

Rumor has it the wall alone cost the modern day equivalent of $2 million.

The dining room table. Expandable to fit something like 20 people, but it also skinnied down (you can see the "leaf lines" in the photo) for a smaller "more intimate" meal. The exotic woods of the table and the wall were both imported from south east Asia. The wall wood was actually sold by the Nazis and had been used in a local pub until it was noticed in the 1990s and restored to the Villa. Amazing, really. 

And the windows? The windows that let all the light in all the time? They drop out so you really can reach out and touch the out of doors. There are massive engines in the basement that lower and raise the one-ton windows at the touch of a button. Built, 100 years ago. The awnings are also part of the original design, to keep the house from getting too hot during the blaze of summer. 

The safety bar, to keep small children from fall out the window? Not part of the original design, despite the household ultimately including three small children. One hopes Mies did not argue too much with Greta when she requested that small change. 

And then we all sat on the lawn talking about our marvelous day. Between the castle and Villa Tugendhat, it was as though a millenium had passed by in the blink of an eye. 

We talked about how and why people built "houses on a hill," from the inital desire to stay safe and defend from enemies, to our modern aesthetic of enjoying a fabulous sunset. And we talked about what it would have been like to live in the castle, as a servant or as a lord, and what it would have been like to live in Villa Tugendhat, as household staff, or as the family, who eventually had to flee and leave all of it behind. 

Fascinating, and well worth every miserable driving kilometer.  

Next: Prague! One! Last! Time!

 

Villa Tugendhat, the Backstory

Villa Tugendhat in Brno is one of my absolute favorite structures. It still astonishes me to think that it was meant to be a family home, and that a family happily lived there for a time. Villa Tugendhat was a creative tour de force when it was built, nearly a hundred years ago, and continues to give off an absolutely "modern" aura despite its actual age. Be patient while I get around to the details, Padawans, this one is worth it. 

Getting to the Villa was problematic. I left plenty of time to get from Hrad Perštejn, and I had even discussed in detail with my six passengers how we were going to be careful to follow the detour signs so as not to get caught behind an immovable force smack dab in the middle of our roadway. 

But with signs like these to go on, we were SOL. Right through the middle of the road under construction again, and it took forever. 

 

We made it, but just. It it was kind of a big deal that we actually get there on time: the Tugendhat tours are booked months in advance, with only 15 people allowed on each tour, and only three tours each day, and precious few of those in English. These tickets had been booked for three months.  And while I had seen Tugendhat twice before (hi, Jane!), I was desperate to see it one more time before we left Europe. In part because I love it so very much, and in part because this was the first time Jeff was going to get to see it. 

I had actually been dragged there the first time, by a dear friend of mine who is not a Philistine. She told me we were going to do a house tour in our (then) hometown, and I mumbled something like, "Is lunch part of the deal?" Because, hello! I am so not into the touring things.  

But, man oh man, was I wrong about this one. I stepped into the living space of this house and fell in love. Not with the exact space, per se, and we'll get to what I mean by that when you see the photos, but with the way the house made me feel. 

The house has a fascinating, sad history. It was orginally commissioned by the Tugendhat family to the famed American German architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe. At the time of the design, in the late 1920s, Mies van der Rohe was still living and working in Germany. The Tugendhats gave him the housing site, which has beautiful views over the city of Brno and an unlimited budget. I haven't been able to find an estimate of the cost of the original construction, but I would assume it would be over the equivalent of $10M today. There is a lot of fascinating, high cost stuff in the house. 

This is the view of the Villa from the street. It does not appear to have much going for it, does it? But, would you have pegged it as being nearly 100 years old? 

"Brno, Černá Pole, Černopolní, vila Tugendhat (03)" by Harold - Own work. Licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons - 

The house was designed in an outside-in style of living, and, in fact, the architect required that there be no artwork hanging on the walls, as he meant the windows to the exterior to be the art. Mies van der Rohe comes across as a bit of a petty tyrant when you hear how he expected people to live in his work of art, but I suppose this is the sort of thing that can come with genius? More on this topic tomorrow. 

The Tugendhat's loved the house, and moved in by 1930. The Tugendhats, however, were Jewish, and so lived in the house for only 8 years before they were forced to flee Europe, and leave their beloved home behind. They were a wealthy family, and seemingly managed to make rather nice lives for themselves in South American and the United States, but the Villa became part of the Gestapo compound in Brno, and then when the Russians moved in, they used the main part of the house as a stables. 

Turns out, the concept of "Philistine" is relative. 

Post Russian occupation, the house because a hospital and physical rehabilitation center for children, and finally, in 1967, Greta Tugendhat (the original owner) returned to the villa with a senior architect from Mies's Chicago studio (Mies of course fled to the US during World War II where he set up shop in Chicago; he is widely regarded as one of the pioneering masters of Modern Architecture), explained the original design to him, and a group of Czech architects set out to repair it. 

One of its more famous moments in history occurred on August 26, 1992 when Václav Klaus and Vladimír Mečiar, the political leaders of then Czechoslovakia met there to sign the document that divided the country into the Czech Republic and Slovakia. Wiki

Here's a photo of the back side of the house. 1930, hard to imagine, isn't it? 

Tomorrow: Inside, Although Really Inside Out