Shipwreck

The site of the shipwreck of the Annie C. Maguire is commemorated with this painted white message, on the site of the wreck:

This post's theme word is pelagic, "of or relating to the open sea, as distinguished from the shallows near the coast." The lack of visual references makes pelagic navigation more difficult, but assuages most fears of collisions.

There goes Manhattan

Identifiable from the sky. A very distinctive appearance; just like maps.

This post's theme word is foursquare, "firm, unyielding; frank, forthright; square in shape." The foursquare city planning made navigation easy.

Année du tournesol

It's the year of the sunflower.

Can you locate Ernie?

The convenient sunflower map --- a pleasingly-abstract thing, resembling an extensive Venn diagram or perhaps a postmodern self-portrait of the artist as a very hungry caterpillar.

The Venn diagram style of planting made some of the intersectional plants hard to locate, and apparently also hard to reach with nourishing sunbeams.

The Ernie sunflowers were crowded out by their much taller neighbors.

This post's theme word is boscage, "mass of growing trees or shrubs." The sunflower boscage brightened the surround.

Saarbrücken

Saarbrücken is a pretty city, a lovely place to seek cool refuge from the sweltering sun and treelessness of denser and more tropical cities. It reminded me of Ithaca, featuring an expansive university nestled in hills and trees. The weather was pleasant. I took many photos.

Local church, directly out my window.

The streetcar's modernity nestled against the historical buildings.

This is art. Or a sundial? Or a postmodern playground.

The local language is Germany; proximity to France is completely ignored, and signs are not even bilingual (or, when they are, it is German/English). This combined with a forbidding, darkly gothic architecture, to make me think that I happened upon a vampire nest.

Gothic frontage, part 1.

Gothic frontage, part 2.

I visited an art exhibit in an abandoned chemical factory. It was very cool. The ambiance of abandoned rooms and stark pipes, walls, and windows, reminded me of post-apocalyptic video game settings. Some of the art blended with the setting, so that it was hard to distinguish art installations from decaying building.

I'm pretty sure this was just an empty room with abandoned freestanding plumbing features.

The paint flakes, mirrored windows to the next laboratories, and floor tiles was very cool. Unintentional art re: decay and order.

If this were a 1st-person video game, I would momentarily receive a parcour training session across these glassed roofs.

The weather was great, the university was nice, my talk went well, the research was interesting, the scenery was nice, and my ear was delighted to try to decipher German.


This post's theme word is esthesia, "the capacity for sensation." Travel titillates my esthesia.

Germany

I've been in Germany all week, living the exciting research life. The weather has been lovely, cool, clear, sunny, pleasant. Like a perfect autumn day. I gave a talk, I read some papers, I experienced the shock of immersion in a place where I speak zero of the local language; it made me miss my relative fluency in France. But of course everyone in the university setting speaks English, too, so it's a hollow complaint.

The church outside my window. Architectural features, a park, foot traffic, and in evenings there is often a live guitarist playing in the restaurant right downstairs. Relaxing and sophisticated. Contrast with the live music festival going on one block away, which was boisterous and loud.

Water reflected on the underside of a bridge. Great texture.

Placid ducks in the city center. I, too, hid in the shade here.

 The broad, bright sky expands over a charming square. Everything feels quaint and adorable to me, I think perhaps my brain is now permanently stuck in a "tourist" gear where every... single... thing... is unbearably whimsical. My fancy is perpetually tickled.

I'm pretty sure that vampires inhabit this building.

I ended up with no pictures of the river Saar, even though I ran along it several times for quite some distance. It was nice, too: water held, by gravity, to the bottom of a curving channel, occasionally buckled to the Earth by bridges. One side is the autobahn and the other is a park with pedestrian paths, shady trees, jungle gyms, beer gardens, and other sedate and pretty city-dressings. I liked it.


This post's theme word is calliopean, "piercingly loud." The Nauwieserviertelfest festivities spread their calliopean joy over several crowded blocks.

Summer park time

At the Parc des Buttes Chaumont.

 The hilliness and bridges and water features make me feel at home.

Near Rue des Rosiers, an interesting vehicle on the street. Various bits spun as the entire metal contraption got pedalled, laboriously, up the street.


This post's theme word is pavonine, "of or resembling a peacock; vain, showy." The pavonine tricycle is rather impractical.

Eiffel view

Every once in awhile, you turn a corner, and... there it is!

That tower, the sunlight, a lovely day. Wonderful city.


This post's theme word is oenophile, "someone who enjoys wine." (EE-nuh-fyl) What is that in the distance? Aaaaah, welcome to the land of oenophiles!

Concise naming conventions

Can you spot the odd one out?

Naming conventions are fun. Usually the target is simplicity and information... sometimes the target is the entire story. I'm left wanting more: why did he hang his robe? Did it dry? Did he come pick it up later?


This post's theme word is usufruct, "the right to use and enjoy another's property without destroying it." Walking the castle's grounds is an usufruct often exploited by tourists.

Food round-up: onigiri, etc.

Never have I ever felt my kanji dearth more strongly than when confronted with food choices.

On the other hand, how can you go wrong when confronted with a wall of onigiri?

This post's theme word (via page 297 of Miéville's Kraken) is sybarite, "a person devoted to luxury or pleasure." Behold, the sybarite's fridge!