PIFF 2013
Alas, it’s over, at last! Pretty worn out and ready. I’ll leave these up so you can check on films as they come to your cinema house or when you check what’s available online (I’ve heard many are on NetFlix already)
A Simple Life (Hong Kong) Beautiful film about aging, kindness and love.
Alien Boy: The Death and Life of James Chasse (Portland) Very well-done, sad and enraging. Excellent use of limited photos and footage and a well-built story. Portlanders should see it. It will be at Cinema 21 later in the month as well.
Barfi! (India) Fun, sometimes silly, but great characters, a good story and a very fresh and loving treatment of differently abled.
Beyond the Hills (Romania) Cinematography is good, excellent acting and seeing modern Romania is very interesting. I found the story a bit hard to take but some loved it. Way too long (two and a half hours). Editing please!
Blancanieves (Spain) or Snow White. A black & white silent film, entertaining but nothing special. Perhaps I’m a curmudgeon on this one, but I couldn’t see why it was silent aside from the fact that The Artist won an Academy Award last year. Next day: thought more about it and like it a lot more and see that the silence fits a melodrama. Suitable for children who can take the violence of real fairy tales though all the blood is off-screen.
Blood of My Blood (Portugal) story of a working-class family (mother, grown daughter in college, son just out of reform school, and the mother’s sister living together) their troubles and the dedication both older women have to the well-being of the younger members. I liked it.
Caesar Must Die (Italy) Prisoners from the high-security wing of a Roman prison rehearse and perform Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. The movie cast is the actual prisoners–not clear to me if the rehearsals are re-enactments. In any case, they are wonderful actors, especially Brutus. I wished for a bit more of the real-life relationships between the prisoners, but that is probably not a realistic desire.
Carmina Or Blow Up (Spain) Very entertaining, great character.
Chinese Take-Out (Argentina) Delightful comedy
Clandestine Childhood (Argentina) Set during Argentina’s Dirty War, a autobiographically-based script from the point of view of a 12-13-year-old boy living under a false identity with his anti-military junta activist parents. This is a genre already but I always enjoy them. This one had a very nice touch: all the violence was animated, a la comic book art–easier to take!
Comrade Kim Goes Flying (North Korea) Corny piece of romanitisized propaganda, but worth seeing as a cultural experience. Coal miners in N. Korea living a middle-class life? Workers spouting slogans in daily life? Laugh and enjoy.
80 Million (Poland) enjoyable if sometimes confusing political heist film. Black comedy. Minor violence
Flicker (Sweden) Hilarious. The town electric company, about to launch a 4G network, is at the center of this very fun, very Scandinavian (i.e. deadpan) comedy.
Hannah Arendt (Germany) Not a perfect film but worth seeing because of the fascinating story which focuses on her coverage of the Eichmann trial. The German actors are excellent. Wish the American ones were!
In the Fog (Ukraine) set during the German occupation, Ukrainians are confronted with moral life and death decisions. very moving. A bit confusing as the usual hints of a flashback are not given–be aware, you are going to get the back story of each of the three central character so when the story shifts and you wonder where you are that’s it.
In the Shadow (Czech Rep.) Political noir in Stalinist Czechoslovakia.
Just the Wind (Hungary) I was looking forward to a movie about the Romany in Hungary, but I found it very slow with occasional gripping moments. Probably a true picture of the terrible prejudice against the Romany in present day.
Keep Smiling (Georgia) I was expecting a light comedy. This was much more interesting and complex.
La Camionela (USA) interesting and informative but nothing earthshaking.
Laurence Anyways (Canada) In French. Laurence and Fred (a woman) are crazy in love but he admits he’s transsexual. Despite histrionics a bit over the top, this is a thoughtful look at the difficulties encountered and the courage needed to live out.
Lore (Australia though it’s set in Germany and in German) I liked this a lot but be warned there are some pretty brutal images and scenes. It’s the story of children of Nazis (siblings) coping with the aftermath of World War II as they try to get to their grandmother’s house 500 miles away.
Love, Marilyn (USA) I liked this more than I expected, partly because it’s just wonderful to watch Marilyn Monroe and there was new material: recently discovered journals and poems nicely performed by a variety of actresses.
Men at Lunch (Ireland) was interesting but not enough material IMO for 80 minutes. My favorite parts were seeing more of the photos taken during construction of Rockefeller Center in 1932.
Modest Reception (Iran) a rather unusual plot of two people driving in a remote area of Iran near the Afghan border trying to give large sums of money away–their difficulties and the psychological effects on them. Not sorry I went but it wasn’t great. Actually weird and not what we’ve come to expect from Iranian films.
More Than Honey (Switzerland) documentary about bees. Early part of the film told me a lot I already knew but then it moves into the problems with disease and ‘killer’ bees and becomes new information. Some good cinematography too. International focus too.
Neighboring Sounds (Brazil) some will find this slow but I liked it a lot.
No (Chile) The only film from Chile in this year’s festival, a political theme, finalist status for the Academy Award for Best Foreign Film, and starring the gorgeous Gael Garcia Bernal caused me to look forward to this one! Not disappointed. It’s the story of the No campaign in Chile’s 1988 plebiscite from the point of view of a major creative consultant. Enjoy it more by not brushing up on your history first.
Our Homeland (Japan) Korean Japanese family welcomes home a son who was repatriated to North Korea for a visit. Sigh. Just count your lucky stars. Very worth seeing. Pair with reading Nothing to Envy
One Night (Cuba) Only film from Cuba this year. Three Havana teenagers decide, all for different reasons, to try to escape to Miami. Great shots of Havana streets, surprisingly honest depiction of prostitution and a feeling of a police state. Not entirely believable but engaging and beautiful characters and a story that holds one’s attention.
Our Children (Belgium) a woman’s slow disintegration under difficult circumstances; based on a true story, marvelous performance by the lead, not for children.
Old Dog (China) I went because I wanted to see Mongolia but it would have been nice to have a something better than a shaggy dog story. Very loud amateur sound. The hills are beautiful but the town sure is awful.
Paradise: Love (Austria) A middle-aged woman takes a vacation at a beach resort in Kenya known for sex tourism. Verging on soft porn, there is humor, but it became more and more painful to watch as it progressed.
Piazza Fontana (Italy), good but hard to keep track of the characters. A color version of In the Shadow (which I think I preferred)
Pieta (South Korea) NO! Sick and utterly disgusting are some of the responses I heard. This festival has many wonderful films; don’t waste your time on this one.
Purge (Finland) I really liked it, very well made but because of the violence, including very graphic sexual violence, I hesitate to recommend. If you do decide to go I suggest you bone up on Estonian history in the first half of the 20th century first.
Realities (Italy) I wanted to like this but didn’t really. There’s a great Italian family and nice visuals of Naples but the story sort of loses it.
Renoir (France) very beautiful as befits Renoir the elder though it’s just as much about the younger (the filmmaker) and a young model.
Short Cuts II & III are pretty much all good, programs worth seeing. Some good animation too. I did not see but heard that I was uneven though there was one everyone said was excellent. IV not quite as good but still worth seeing.
Shun Li & The Poet (Italy) good story, good characters, lovely settings.
Sightseers (Great Britain) a very black comedy (in color!) but I enjoyed it. Lots of blood and laughs if you are able to suspend reality and just enjoy. Not for kids.
Something in the Air (France) I wanted to like this but watching a bunch of teenagers in the early 70s be Anarchists, Trotskyists and Maoists and make stupid mistakes based on their politics was pretty darn boring in 2013.
Starry Starry Night (Taiwan) take the kids if they can handle subtitles. Some nice visuals and touching story.
Tabu (Portugal)in two parts: Paradise Lost and Paradise. The first is set in modern Portugal, the second in colonial Mozambique in the early 60s. The first is less compelling than second section but it’s a interesting film.
The Angels’ Share (Great Britain) Ken Loach’s latest. A fun caper film with great characters that could benefit from subtitles. Everyone had trouble with the working-class Scotch accents but there’s a lot of action so even I (who is awful with accents) understood what was happening though I missed a lot of the laughs.
The Double Steps (Spain) Very mysterious film, set in the Mali desert, gorgeous visuals and great music. Not the artist documentary I expected.
The Exam (Hungary) It’s a year after the Uprising and all the intelligence employees are being tested and what a test! Fast moving and full of surprises.
The Gatekeepers (Israel) See this film for the amazing candor of a number of former heads of the Israel Secret Service (Shin Bet) and some great archival film on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.
The Last Shepherd (Italy) is a businessman as well as I guy who walks around the mountains with his sheep. Quite interesting and some beautiful shots especially at the end. Older children should enjoy too
The Painting (France) a nice animated children’s movie for kids who are old enough to cope with subtitles that adult can enjoy. Nothing revolutionary in the animation.
The Sapphires (Australia) Wonderful movie! Great music in this story of an Aboriginal singing group in 1968 who go entertain the troupes in Vietnam. Good relationships and politics.
This Ain’t California (Germany) documentary about a group of skateboarders in East Berlin during the 80s. Managed to got back (after the electricity failed half an hour into my first watching) and see the whole thing at the very last screening of the festival. It’s a very interesting film, another aspect of living under Soviet East German rule. You don’t have to be a skateboarder to find it of interest.
Unfair World (Greece) a small film but very engaging. Interesting characters, some great laughs and some sweetness too.
War Witch (Canada) In French, filmed in Congo by a director named Nguyen and interwoven with stories of child soldiers from Burma, the focus is a girl child rebel soldier. I loved it and not surprising since it’s one of the finalists for best foreign film Academy Award.
Wrinkles (Spain) nothing special about the animation but a very touching story set in a nursing home with lots of humor lightening things up.
Cuartos of Merida
On many corners in the center of Merida are wonderful plaques or cuartos. These date from the days when most residents were illiterate and shop and tavern owners marked their corners with statues and plaques naming their corners: the dog, the boxer, the sunset to help people find them (and their way around the city). Eventually the statutes and cuartos disappeared but in recent times the city has been restoring the cuartos that can be found and mounting them on a corner of a building in their proper locations. I had great fun walking around Merida taking photos of them–I have read there are at least 170 of them. Here are the ones I found in my wandering. At the end are a few that aren’t strictly cuartos but are part of the genre IMO. The first of these is called Dos Caras or two faces. It is painted directly on a building right in the middle of downtown–the building has been repainted but they wisely didn’t paint the painting. The last one isn’t even in Merida but the wonderful yellow city of Izamal
Daily (almost) photos
A few years ago I did a daily photo project for about 8 months. Loved what it did to how I looked at the world. In July I was walking thru Lloyd Center when I saw something I would shoot in a foreign country and nearly passed by at home. Decided to try again. I have been trying but not managing a shot a day but I did go back and find some older shots to include. Hope you enjoy. At first I was adding to the bottom but now will be adding them on the top so returners don’t have to scroll down thru them all! So here’s the photo that inspired me this time and then the latest …
July 20, 2012 Bridal store
I haven’t been great about shooting. I got a new camera cause the old one broke (it was pointed out to me in the store that I had a big dent on the front of the old one, on the lens cover, so it was my clutzy self responsible for the ill health of the old one). In any case, those days without a happy camera got in the way psychologically if not materially. Also, some days I do take a picture but it’s not worth sharing! so I’m sparing you 🙂
October 13, 2012 Rodriguez performing in Portland–he’s the subject of the great documentary Searching for Sugar Man
October 6, 2012
July 17, 2012
July 21, I missed the shot of the day as my camera was hiding in my drawstring vintage purse (I was in 1912 costume for a suffrage centennial event) when Metro Councilor Rex Burkholder biked past me on his way home in his costume as Senator Harry Lane–tails and striped pants and bowler hat!
July 22, 2012
July 19, 2012 Betty Feves pots at Contemporary Crafts Museum
July 15, 2012 at Smith’s Berry Barn for Plate & Pitchfork
July 13, 2012 Portland Art Museum: City 0000 by Mike Kelley
July 11, 2012 Sunset from the Steel Bridge pedestrian & bike path
July 6, 2012 Sunset Rockaway Beach
July 5, 20 12 Sunset Rockaway Beach
July 4, 2012
July 2, 2012 Jobs with Justice TPP demo at WalMart. TPP is Trans-Pacific Partnership, a new trade agreement being negotiated in secret
June 29, 2012 Medea Benjamin in Portland in conjunction with her new book Drone Warfare
June 26, 2012 Rally to ask our governor to deny Nestle a permit to bottle the water in the Columbia Gorge
June 24, 2012 Twin Rocks
June 2, 2012 Mt Adams
June 1, 2012 Truck bed of Jay McLaughlin of Mt Adams Resources Stewards
July 23, 2012 in Brigette and Jack ‘s yard in Hood River
July 24, 2012 If I’d stuck my hand out instead of holding a camera I think I could have shook his
July 26, 2012 The audience gathers in front of the new big screen for Top Down movie on the roof
July 28, 2012
July 29. 2012
August 1, 2012 Moon and Mt Hood
August 3, 2012 Shadow Project–warming up for Hiroshima and Nagasaki remembrance Monday
August 4, 2012 Charlotte Malakoff aux Framboises–hadn’t made it in years and probably won’t again. It’s very beautiful and delicious but there’s a lot of other desserts that are just as good and a lot less work! From the original Mastering the Art of French Cooking by Julia Child and company, p. 607.
August 5, 2012 Hilda in her (old) birthday hat
August 6, 2012 Traditional Japanese Youth Dance directed by Sahomi Tachibana dancing at Out of the Shadows: Remembering Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Physicians for Social Responsibility’s 2012 commemoration of the nuclear bombings of these two Japanese cities in August of 1945. The dancer with her face covered was one of several representing those who died. Very powerful in person. Hope the photo captures some of that.
August 11, 2012 The lights went out in Rockaway in the middle of our Scrabble game. The game must go on! Never did find out what happened.
August 16, 2012 Felt like Woody Allen when the streetcar went by although I have to admit I was sitting in a restaurant having a good time myself
August 20, 2012 doorway in Sellwood neighborhood by Chris Haberman
August 22, 2012 The Twangshifters play a slow one prompting dancing at Music on Main Street, free music downtown every Wednesday evening in the summer
August 23, 2012 At Sarah & Shirlee’s house
August 28, 2012 New to me fountain at the state capital
August 29, 2012 At Sunlan, the most amazing lighting store
August 29, 2012 Okay, not according to the ‘rules’ a second photo from the day and this one photoshopped, but I was so taken with how Storm Large looked like almost like different people in her different costumes!
Sept. 1, 2012 Sunset in Rockaway Beach. Okay, I know, really boring but I didn’t take anything else and it was extraordinary weather all weekend so needs some commemoration
Sept. 2, 2012 Only in Rockaway Beach! at the town carnival
Sept 5, 2012 Love summer and farmers’ markets!
Sept. 6, 2012 corner of SE 15th & Alder, Portland, Oregon
Sept. 7, 2012 Recycled art in empty store window, Portland–made from discarded coffee cups
Sept. 8, 2012 Utility pole art by Ty Oldenburg, SE Ash St between 18th & 20th
Sept. 9, 2012 Nicole Olson, Ten Tiny Dances @ TBA
Sept. 10, 2012 Petra Kovacic from Croatia performing at TBA–I was fascinated with how the reflection has two heads and extra limbs
Sept. 11, 2012 Blind Tasting Bingo at TBA–her hands are out to receive a cup with a mystery taste.
Sept. 12 tasting sundae at What’s the Scoop? the one on the right has toasted marshmallow which was toasted with a blow torch, of course! One of the few times I was unable to finish!
Sept. 13, 2012 Fresh ginger at the Portland Farmers’ Market on SE 20th
Sept. 14, 2012 Jody’s first visit to Voodoo Donuts
Sept. 15, 2012 Knit creatures at Paxton Gate, Treasures and Oddities inspired by the garden and the natural sciences.
Sept. 16, 2012 Japanese sound artist Akio Suzuki playing one of his unique instruments on the last day of TBA. This one had cables between cylinders which he stroked, plucked and struck with his hands and a variety of mallets, etc. to make beautiful ethereal music.
September 19, 2012 City Council discussing whether to ask EPA to do a full environmental impact statement on the coal shipment thru Portland and on the river issue–2 councilors missing. The opposition was vastly outnumbered in audience and in testifiers and the Council voted unanimously to pass the proposal.
September 20, 2012 On the waterfront, Vigor Industrial Shipyard
Sept. 21, 2012 Long Beach Penisula
Sept. 22, 2012 Art in the Orchard has seen better days
September 23, 2012 Experiment to create fish habitat in creek
September 26, 2012 Art at Max station
Sept 27, 2012 Food Cart Art
September 28, 2012
Sept. 29, 2012
Sept. 30, 2012 South Jetty, Nehalem River
Indonesia: Five Days in Tabula
These are photos that didn’t get into the Walter Spies post, those taken in and around Tabula, the hamlet just outside Sidemen the bigger town on the main road. Tabula has an old part with straight lanes and small private compounds. Outside its walls is the business area, the temple, workshops, some homes and the agricultural fields . It is in these fields that some families have built guest houses, hotels and restaurants. A stream runs next to the town too.
this house’s architecture is from another area. I was told it was built for and owned by Swedes. the day I left a For Sale sign went up on it. the view on the right is from my veranda. the two story buildings are rooms for tourists
this bamboo wind chime hung from my room’s porch. It made a lovely sound
Now some photos from Sidemen–the big town about half a mile away on the main road that runs from the coast up towards the mountain:
The swastika is a very old Asian symbol and doesn’t have anything to do with Nazis. Still it’s weird and disturbing. The store sold fabric and household goods. On the right is one shot of the shelves.
Every town has a temple–here’s a few shots from Tabula’s. It was only a few days until a big festival so a group of women were working together in the compound
One day, as I walked next to the old walled off section of Tabula, a woman who spoke a little English stopped me and invited me into her home inside old Tabula. She served me tea and snacks and then took up her bamboo weaving for the coming festival
Now just some miscellaneous shots of and around Tabula
here’s the lunch I bought from a little stand in Sidemen and brought back to my room to eat
other than the bananas no real idea what I was eating–organs figured in for sure
In Search of Walter Spies or Walking the Sidemen Road
Tabola, Sinemen, Karangasem, Bali
My first full day I walked toward the ten-thousand foot mountain that looms above me, the highest in Bali, that greets me when I look out my window–unless the clouds have disappeared it–along the mostly shoulderless road, walking on the right side toward oncoming chartreuse and red trucks, mostly filled with rocks and gravel, and weaving motorbikes, two, three, whole families aboard. I am puzzled why the Indonesians drive on the left side of the road; their colonizers, the Dutch, don’t. It must have come from the English via India.
the view of Mt Agung from my veranda
these folks on the left are going to a celebration, perhaps a wedding, but the way they are piled on the cycles is normal
I walked into traffic as I’ve been taught, but it didn’t do much good. The Balinese incessantly pass and sometimes–but not on this narrow road–driving three abreast in two lanes. It was terrifying being in a car here until I learned to trust my driver and let go, to be grateful I wasn’t at the wheel.
My plan was to walk to Iseh, about two miles from Sidemen or three from Tabula, just up the road from my guesthouse in the middle of the rice terraces. I wanted to see the house of Walter Spies. I first read about Spies in a book I found on the sparse Bali shelf at the library: Bali, Java, in My Dreams by Christine Jordis, a Frenchwoman who traveled here about a decade ago. She devoted a chapter to him. I was intrigued.
Spies was German who came first to Java, I think in the 20s, but was enticed to Bali where he lived first in Ubud and then in Iseh. He was an ethnographer, choreographer, film maker, naturalist and painter. He started a painting school for Balinese and profoundly influenced the arts in Bali. He was also gay and, during a crackdown in the 30s, imprisoned for it i.e. for ‘having fun’ with his underage house boys. Later he was interred as an enemy alien, shipped away in 1942 and died when the ship was torpedoed.
His house in Ubud became a center for visiting rich and famous including Barbara Hutton, Charlie Chaplin, Noel Coward, Vicki Baum and even Margaret Mead. When he found Ubud too frantic–a lot of this his own making–he left for Iseh and turned his Ubud home into a guesthouse. It’s a hotel today and the original house is still intact and beautiful.
Spies house in Ubud–now part of a hotel complex
He built a house on a hill in Iseh and lived there until the authorities took him away. In Bali, Java, in My Dreams, I read that an English couple had lived in the house in the early 60s, were there when the believed dead mountain woke up with a monstrous eruption. The woman of the couple, Anna Mathews, wrote a book about it, The Night of Purnama (full moon). (Yes the first two eruptions were on successive full moons) It’s an extraordinary story of first learning to live with the Balinese and then living thru a tragic emergency–their house, up high, was safe from the lava, but not the ash, but thousands were not so lucky and died, some from the gases, some of burns, some buried. The rice fields burned, the trees. There was no food. The government was in Java and didn’t do anything for them.
When I decided to come to Sidemen to hang out for a few days at the end of my textile and art tour I knew I would look for the house. I already knew from an Internet search that the house was bought by an Italian in the 70s and remodeled, 4 bedrooms, all with bath, a pool, etc. etc. and again visited by the rich and famous, now rock stars, but this time as a rental, complete with staff. I saw a few pictures but none showing the setting, just the view, basically the same as mine, and the pool and closeups of a wall, a bedroom. Would I recognize it if I found it?
I set off at 9:15 after my sad little Western breakfast at the guest house. I’ve been spoiled on the tour by high-end hotels and resorts with choices of Western and Indonesian breakfasts (even Chinese in the 5-star’s buffet in Yogyakarta)–I’ve never been a bacon and eggs fan. But here I am staying in a tiny guesthouse, just three free-standing rooms facing the mountain with rice paddies at our feet, literally. I am watching the bird-scarer not a hundred feet away jiggle the strings strung across a nearly ripe field while I write. The strings hold what look like prayer flags but they are merely rags, mostly white with an occasional blue or yellow one. There is also a piece of metal next to the scarecrow at the bottom of the field with a clacker that can be operated from the shack at the top of the field. He jiggles, he screeches. He was here by 6:30 am and is still here when I return until after 6pm.
the guest house, my room on far left, center another room, right the breakfast room with chairs
view from my veranda, my host weeding his field
discouraging the birds
I walk up. I am prepared for up; what else can it be on the flank of a mountain? I only arrived the afternoon before and spent the day on my veranda writing and reading, only venturing out for dinner and then only a block or two down the road to a bigger guest house with a restaurant.
The walk is not uninteresting. I see a woman weaving, she’s in her house but the room is open on the road side. Houses protect from rain here, not cold. Traditionally there is a space between the walls and the roof–my room is this way.
I see yarn dyed for ikat hanging on a fence, shops selling water and beer and snacks, the village temple, school children in uniform playing in the school yard even though it is Saturday, a restaurant aimed at the guests that come to the dozen or so guest houses and inns, a loom workshop. When I reach Sinemen I see the market stalls piled with fruits with names I cannot remember. I turn left toward the mountain. Soon I hear the calming notes of a gamelon and wish I could see thru the walls into the courtyard. I am not sure if this is a rehearsal or a ceremony–when I return I will have my answer–ceremony! A man will be singing and I will be able to see some of the offerings over the wall as well as hear a bit of tumult.
left, the Tabula temple, right, loom workshop
peeking over the wall in Sidemen
Traffic whizzes by, creating hold-on-to-your-hat breezes. I am lucky, it’s not too hot yet. I leave Sinemen and walk by forests, sometimes there is evidence of bamboo harvesting, once a rock quarry, or rather the piles of rock and gravel that tell me that is the business. That must be where all that rock I see on the trucks coming down the mountain is going–they are mining the mountain.
bamboo is harvested along the main road
brick production–pressed and apparently not fired
nearly every home has some caged birds. on right, a tavern along the road
Now and then a woman sits with a basket of fruit or there is an actual stand selling squashes, potatoes, fruit. Now a bar, just a roof over a counter where men sit with their backs to the road drinking beer or soda. I have looked at the map and seen there are two villages before Iseh. Sometimes there is a sign with a name on it, often shops have banners with their address including the full location: town, district, Bali. I watch for Iseh. I have failed to bring the map along so I just watch out for Iseh on a sign.
People pass, I smile and say Hello, or rather Hallo, which is what they say. They smile. Buses and motorbikes offer me rides, two children ask for money and I am offended. Why is this happening here? I’ve been in much more touristy places on Bali and they haven’t begged. After a while I realize I have not seen a single Western face all day and will not until I turn onto the Tabula road at the end of my journey.
Twice I stop to drink water sitting on the little walls built where there is a culvert, once I stop to buy a fruit I like, overpaying so that she tries to give me more–less than fifty cents. I take many photos.
I come to a restaurant with an Organic Food sign perched above the view of fields and mountain and a hill with a house on top. Could this be it? But there is no town, I have only passed one town and there should be another before Iseh.
It is only 11 or so and I tell the restaurant lady I may come on my way back. I walk on to the road to the house, down it’s road and up some stairs. It is big. It could be it. I am met by a woman who does not speak English who lets me know I can’t come on the side I’m heading up to–it is rented–but directs me to the other side, different steps. What I find is the beautiful view and what looks like two very ordinary rooms. I am doubtful.
the lane up to the house
the view from the house
view from house on the other side
Back on the road, I soon come to an S curve with some shops, a bar, a restaurant. I think I ought to eat at this one rather than the one that at least wants to cater to tourists. This one looks Indonesian. But it’s still too early for lunch and I am looking for Iseh. I walk on.
Now it’s hot. I’m tired. Up, up. I see a woman making something and stop. It’s a reed for the loom made from thin strips of bamboo slipped between a larger split bamboo and wrapped with red thread. She lets me take a photo. A while farther and I notice one of those huge paper mache statues they use in ceremonies being painted. I stop to take a photo and am invited in. There are a few figures and they are extraordinary.
I walk on.
It’s about noon when I hit a T in the road. I have not remembered this on the map but since I didn’t bring it I can’t check. There are directional signs–a whole list of towns in all three directions. Sidemen 7 kilometers. Is that about 4 miles? A school girl tells me to turn right. I walk about half an hour. Ask again and am told it was the other way. I walk back and on past the crossroad and ask again. It was back towards Sidemen. It is further. I am hot, tired, not thinking clearly.
Finally I come to an Inn catering to foreigners–I go in. Deserted. I sit to rest and a man appears. He says back to the crossroads and toward Sidemen 3 km. Makes sense. That would make it 4 kg from Sidemen. I feel very stupid. He also tells me Iseh is off the road and that there is a house owned by an American or a Canadian or a European on the hill.
By now it is 12:30. Now I stop and ask everyone I come across if this is Iseh. Finally at the S curve it is Yes. I had not seen a road down but now it is there, sloping toward two hills up mountain from the smaller hill with the house I visited earlier. There are tarps with grain drying along the side of it. it is steep and a long way to the hills. I am very tired and hungry. It is 1:30. I have been walking four hours. I am too tired to walk down the road to Iseh.
I walk on looking back for a house on either hill. There is a lot of vegetation but finally I see one building. It doesn’t look right. I take photos. I think I can look on Google Earth and maybe I will see the pool, but then I will be home and it will be too late.
Iseh from the road
I should go to the café right there but I’m so tired, so hot. I go to the organic café with the thought of indulging myself. I sit on the veranda and order a watermelon juice and chicken curry with vegetables. It is only an ordinary restaurant after all.
While I wait an old woman approaches. I mention Walter Spies. “Ah, Walter Piss, my father cooked for him.” Piss! she knows what she is talking about. I’ve been reading a novel about Spies the last few days, Island of Demons by Nigel Barley, an anthropologist and former Ethnographer at the British Museum. Barley has told me the Indonesians called him Walter Piss.
“My father’s dead now.” I ask about the house. She points at the one I’ve seen on the closest hill, the one I visited hours ago. “They tore it down and built a new one.” I ask if it is for tourists. She tells me not. I know the house called Walter Spies is for rent. I have seen the website. $900 by the night, write for details on longer or partial rental. Comes with four staff.
the house from the restaurant
By the time I finish lunch it is 2:30 and I head home. I could get a ride home. Plenty of trucks, buses and motorbikes stop and ask me where I am going but for some reason I refuse. The motorbikes scare me. I don’t want to whip around these curves helmet less, though later I will regret not having the experience just as I regret not taking a ride in the becaks of Yogya. I am in a state of thinkless exhaustion and soldier on.
I go back to my room with a view, though the mountain has disappeared into the clouds, and read the novel which I’m finding interesting, sometimes entertaining, but it is not making me like Walter Spies. What is this obsession with Walter Spies about anyway?
Sunday I rest. My feet are blistered, my knees angry, the bones of my feet ache. By Monday I am better and decide to explore Tabula and Sidemen. Almost as soon as I start down the road I see a man weaving something large from coconut leaves. I stop to look and he speaks English. His weaving is for the ceremony after I leave. He asks what I’m doing and I mention Walter Spies and Iseh. “Walter Piss, he was a painter, no?” So I ask about the house.“ It’s across from the temple you will see it.” I must go back. Tomorrow. My last full day.
That night after dark the wind returns accompanied by rain. It is so windy I have to shut my windows. Still the wind comes in under the doors, over the walls where the roof purposely overhangs and always provides circulation. It is so windy that I dream I moved to a house with no insulation and the wind is blowing thru it. Will I be willing to walk the road in this weather? The other day at the coast the windy rain blew my umbrella insideout and soaked me..
It is cloudy in the morning, threatening rain, actually sprinkling as I leave, but blessedly cooler. At least this time I know where I’m going! Leaving Sidemen there is a traffic jam as a procession of cars, motorbikes and even a dump truck full of people dressed in their best traditional clothes drive into Sidemen. The pick up trucks also carry golden objects, something for ceremonies. Later I will see them returning.
I stop and buy some rambutans. Probably over pay–5000 for 3 (about 50 cents) and then the man asks if I want a ride and then he wants me to buy him a cigarette. I am puzzled and a bit offended. Is it only because I am seen as a rich foreigner? Is it because I overpaid? I feel the same as when the children ask for money.
Though Bali is primarily Hindu, there are Muslims and the road passes along the edge of a Muslim village.
I am doing something–walking–that is not done by foreigners. I see locals walking but they are working, carrying things. Once when I stop to take a pebble out of my sandal a Dutch couple comes walking down, but they have only walked the wrong way thinking they could make a loop in Sidemen. Later, coming back I’ll see three younger people on 2 motorbikes going uphill.
When I reach Iseh I see the old woman whose father worked for Spies. I ask her about the people who lived in the house during the eruption but I can’t make her understand my question and when I think I may have finally gotten thru she says she doesn’t know.
But then I see the temple steps, 151 of them, across the highway from the road to the house. I have found it. Two little girls follow me up the steps, sisters I think, and the older one is wanting me to buy her necklaces but I just talk to them. I have not asked them to come with me. She studies English in school and speaks well. The temple is virtually abandoned. She says they don’t use it anymore. It clearly has not been readied for the ceremonies in two days. I don’t go in, too lazy to take off my shoes and the ground is too littered to want to walk barefooted anyway.
When we get back down their mother with baby is waiting for us. She has sent them on this task, it is clear. It makes me sad.
I still want to see Iseh itself so I walk down at the S curve to the bridge over the river. It is steep going and then on the other side of the bridge–which is missing a large hunk of railing–it is even steeper up and worse yet it is slippery. I have to walk in the foliage at the side some of the time to keep from falling. Why am I doing this? Coming back will be even worse. I forget to take picture!
It goes on and on, climbing, climbing until I finally reach the town. There a road big enough for cars appears. I turn north, nice houses behind walls. Along the way a group of people are having a snack and they insist I join them. I take a cracker, photos. No one speaks English so they can’t ask the inevitable questions. I walk on, they have a good laugh.
looking over the walls into compounds
taking a break in Iseh
And then I start to hope this road goes somewhere, back to the main road so I won’t have to double back, struggle down the slippery slope. I go by farms and finally a government building.
The land has flattened out. I consult the map I have brought today and dream of reaching Salet, the town I was in on Saturday when I last turned back and then suddenly I am there, the main road appears, I turn toward the junction, I pass the inn where I finally found out where Iseh was and I am off.
It’s 1 o’clock now and I think of stopping for food. I pass one warang (restaurant) but it doesn’t look like it will have a toilet, so I press on for Iseh and the restaurant on the S curve I didn’t eat in Saturday. I am the only customer. I get tea and noodles and they are good. I watch the scene on the road, a truck has pulled over–I never figure out why–but it means everyone has to go around him and that means stopping traffic in the other direction. One of the cheroots stops and backs up to right in front of the stopped truck. The driver gets out and rolls up his pant legs. I think he’s going to help the truck but no, there is a stream next by the road and he begins to wash his bus. When I look up the truck has left but the bus is still there so traffic is still one way.
An uneventful walk home from there. I see a garbage motor bike. I haven’t walked quite as far today and it’s been cooler so I’m not nearly so wiped out. I even consider going shopping for a sarong in Sidemen but thankfully talk myself out of it. Home by 4.
And then I realize, it’s not Walter Spies I’m obsessed with, it’s Anna Mathews. It’s the volcano, the eruptions. I wanted to see the mountain from where she watched it that morning when she first noticed smoke instead of clouds gathering above it and then each day for months as she tried to predict the day’s events.
I’ve been picturing creeping lava, burning trees, ash-covered forests, people fleeing down the road I’d walked searching for remnants of an event nearly fifty years ago. But ash is good fertilizer and I can see no evidence of her disaster.
A few excerpts from Night of Purnama
p 91 A stiff breeze sprang up and whirled the particles into the house. We were obliged to empty the living-rom and retreat to the studio, whose shutters could be closed…Even so, we had no windows and dared not open even a crack in the shutters. Heads wrapped in scarves, eyes prickling, mouths gritty, nails engrained, we sat in semi-darkness…There wasn’t a single thing that didn’t feel gritty to the touch, and filthy….When at last the wind died, another horror took over. It began to drizzle. Such strange rain … as it touched the skin, it pricked like a mosquito, and burned.
P 94 We had entered a new relationship with our volcano. It had put us in our place. It had reminded us of our primitive forefathers, and what they owed to the forces of nature. Strange how the preceding few days had stripped us of our comforts, how quickly, as drops of acid had stripped the trees. We slept in our clothes, washed in tainted water, and lived in a house reduced to a roof above our heads – everything else had been packed away. The volcano had taken away our food: they dying land supported no fruit or vegetables, we had only a little rice, and a little meat – meat because people were saying their cattle were already getting thin, it would be better to kill them. We did not know what it was to sleep soundly. We were wakeful, listening to the voice of the volcano,…
P 101 On March 7th we had the first of the floods. By this time, a quantity of pyroclastic ash, sand and boulders had collected on the upper slopes of the cone. Heavy rain brought them down, a scalding-hot battering-ram of mud, carrying with it rocks and stones, and weighing hundreds of tons. The bridge at Selat was smashed to pieces,…Fortunately, by the time the flood reached Iseh, it was merely very hot muddy water
p 118 …great waves of lave were flowing, a rippling river that glowed and dimmed, glowed and dimmed, freshened and faded. The noise was pandemonium: the vast power-house was out of control.
P 119-20 … the river-bed, already filled with yesterday’s mud. In this now shallow track ramped something treacly, black, horrible. It pushed before it a flaming lip; of burning trunks of trees and bits of houses. It squeaked, plopped, bubbled. The river shrivelled up before it. There was no water. There was no river. Trees at its touch burst into flames, and it passed on, leaving bonfires flaring.
Indonesia: SE Bali: double ikat weavers, a beach resort, a beach town & dyers
The third part of the tour was in SE Bali. We stayed at a lovely resort, Alila Manggis, with an Indonesian chef (unusual in upscale restaurants) who I heard had been named the best chef in the country though their website doesn’t mention that.
The butterfly is alive–it landed on the centerpiece during our farewell dinner.
But we didn’t come here for the food or even the spa, we were in this part of the island because the famous ancient traditional village of the Bali Aga people, Tenganan, is nearby. Tenganan is the only place in the country making double ikat. The village is also an attraction because of the Bali Aga heritage: these are the original inhabitants of Bali–the majority population having migrated from Java centuries later–with different traditions including architecture and customs which Tenganan retains. Outsiders are not allowed to live there–if a village native marries out they must leave.
Ikat is a patterned weaving, the pattern coming from the pre-dying of either the weft (the part strung on the loom) or the weft (the yarn passed back and forth over and under the warp). In double ikat both weft and warp are dyed. It’s extremely complicated to dye the pattern (it is a resist technique, the portion of the yarn to not be dyed is wrapped to keep the dye off; there can be multiple colors meaning multiple tying and dying) and tedious to make sure the weft is in exactly the right spot (register) for the pattern to come out right.
The town itself was very interesting. In addition to the many homes with signs inviting the tourist in to see the weaving, there were other arts for sale. There was going to be a ceremony the next day for the anniversary of a death and a lunch was being prepared and then eaten by the people helping to prepare. And then there was just walking around a unique village
the shop on the right is one of many in the parking lot–this is a popular tourist attraction!
under the baskets are fighting cocks
they are carrying fuel–coal? charcoal?
these are offering for the ceremony
Nearby was a village specializing in baskets
bamboo strips are pulled thru successively smaller holes to strip it smaller and smaller for weaving
some baskets are smoked for the color
Farther east is Seraya home to the Karya Seni Warna Alam weavers’ cooperative where natural dying has been revived. In addition, the cooperative does very traditional weaving including the holy black and white checkered cloth.
the bark is peeled for dye; it needs the addition of lime to create red
boiling dye on the left, on the right an indigo dye pot
the indigo needs oxidation to develop the full blue color
this primitive cotton gin blew me away. So slow. I came home and looked up Whitney’s cotton gin. Really nothing like this one.
above the final step of spinning the cotton and on the right weaving the sacred black and white cloth
Drying rice cakes at the coop
And now a few photos from the rather sad beach town of Candi Dasa, the closest town to the resort. There are many guest houses and hotels as well as shops in the town but there has been significant beach erosion and so there is no longer a nice beach. I walked around one afternoon exploring and taking photos. Included are some photos from the town temple. I walked part way back to the resort; some of the prettiest shots are along that walk
these last three are at the local temple
Ending with a few photos that don’t fit anywhere special:
first from the Denpasar (Bali) airport, then the Bat Cave Temple where our driver stopped so he could make an offering–this is on the road to the Aliya resort and all the sites in this entry. Last a statute store we passed–not a great photo technically since it was taken out the window of a moving car
Indonesia–Murals (and other street art) of Yogyakarta
Was immediately struck by the number and quality of the graffiti in Yogya and then learned the city had paid artists to do at least some of them.
Indonesia–Becaks
A becak is a cycle rickshaw. They are ubiquitous in Yogyakarta.
I was intrigued by the decorations painted on them. If you aren’t just skip this post!
Java 2012
Only spent four days in Java. Our tour group stayed at the historic and high-end Phoenix Hotel in Yogyakarta , not the largest city but a center of art, especially batik. First we visited the Kraton (palace) and then went to the studio/workshop/gallery of two of the most respected and well-known Indonesian batik artists, Nia & Agus Ismoyo. Nia is American who came to Java over twenty years ago to study batik, ended up marrying Agus and staying. They make gallery-type art, some of it in collaboration with artists and students from all over the world with whom they’ve done workshops. They employ local women to make more conventional batik, though still quite different than classic in both design and color, which they sell in the shop to support the art.
After a lecture on batik techniques, history and motifs, we toured the gallery, bought batik (including scarves and necklaces made from batik scraps). Nia and Agus took us to a great fish restaurant that Indonesians actually patronize (most of the restaurants we went to were for tourists as locals don’t usually eat dinner out) and then accompanied us to most of the other workshops/craftspeople during our stay: a women’s batik cooperative in Giriloyo, a very small village; Pak Ledar, a shadow puppet maker; the village of Imogiri where the keris is made, the wavy dagger which is purported to have magical properties–different people make different parts of the dagger and then they are assembled; and Pak Hadi, a tjap (copper batik stamp ) maker. We also visited the 8th century Hindo Prambanan Temple and the very famous Borobudur Buddhist monument, the largest Buddhist complex outside India, also 8th century. I wandered around on my own in the Yogya (the city’s nickname) market taking pictures (and bought some tea cup covers–one picture of the woman I bought them from with her daughter) and then the street taking more photos, especially the city-sponsored murals–truly an art city!
I’m going to attempt to group the photos better than I did for Ubud starting with a few from the Phoenix Hotel. The view of the pool courtyard from my room, the library where our group often met where there were some sculptures made from Chinese coins which kind of fascinated me so I have a photo of one of them plus a close up.
I only took a few photos I like at the Yogyakarta Palace
Same with the Nia and Agus Ismoyo’s studio and gallery. I have one shop in the gallery, one of one of the workers drawing with wax on the cloth and a very interesting colonial piece of batik from the Ismoyo’s collection
Next some photos fromBima Sakti, the women’s batik co-op in the village of Giriloyo including the snacks we were served — delicious!
Nearby was the village of Imogiri, a village where the wavy Indonesian daggers are made, don’t know if all the men in the village do this work, but certainly many and then they also assemble the parts. We saw working conditions that would not be tolerated by OSHA for sure :))
Along with photos of different processes and the finished product, I have some photos of the village itself. A whole row of children sat on a wall looking at us. I went into the village shop… and then the sky opened
they told us this keris in the yellow box is a collectible
The visit to the puppet maker was terrific. We were a big group and had an appointment. Somehow they thought we were from UNICEF and put out a press release and a photographer from a Yogya paper showed up and our picture was in the paper the next morning. Pak Ledjar is very prominent, an art student from Korea was there studying with him for 6 months.
The art of making the copper batik stamp, tjap, is nearly lost. Pak Hadi is a master. He got a grant from an international agency to train a young person from his neighborhood and had to return the money because he couldn’t find anyone willing to learn the art. Understandable, I guess, as it is a tedious, slow process cutting small pieces of copper and fitting them into a frame to create the pattern. He does custom work too. There was a wall of tjaps in the next room–beautiful in their own right
The Hindu Prambbanan Temple complex is about 17 miles east of Yogya, it’s also known as the Lorojonggrang Temple. It has 3 concentric squares, each bounded by a 1 meter high wall. Inside the middle square there are 224 Perwara temples arranged so the shorter temples are on the outside getting higher towards the center. The center square has 16 small and big temples.
Only one photo from the Ramayana dance performance–not easy to take a good photo there without a flash
Borobudur is a Buddhist monument, said to be the largest Buddhist monument outside of India. It’s about 25 miles northwest of Yogya, built between 750 and 850 AD, about 300 years older than Angkor Wat. It was abandoned following the 14th century decline of Buddhist and Hindu kingdoms in Java and the Javanese conversion to Islam. It was rediscovered in 1814 by Sir Thomas Raffles (yeah, the guy they named the hotels after 🙂 who was the British ruler of Java at that time.
Viewed from above it takes the form of a mandala. It has 9 platforms, the lower 6 are square and the upper 3 circular. The upper platform features 72 small stupas surrounding one large central one. Each stupa is bell-shaped. A Buddha sits inside each pierced enclosure (or once did). It is also decortated with 2,672 relief panels depicting the life of the Buddha. It was built with an estimated 1.6 million blocks of volcanic stone. We went very early in the morning, the view of the mountains was gorgeous. There was a large groups of English speaking Buddhist pilgrims visiting in front of us.
Some photos from my visit to the downtown market.
this is the woman I bought some little tin lids that are always on top of tea glasses. She didn’t speak English. We managed our transaction with sign language. I was happy there was a little sign on their basket with the price on it. I think they were about fifteen cents
These next photos are ones that don’t really fit anywhere else: people, street scenes, a fighting cock…
the photo on the right is rice being threshed
this is the postal clerk I bought stamps from. It was easily 85 degrees and very humid. She didn’t even seem to be sweating!
on the left a whole street of open-fronted shoe stores. on the right is the Yogya railroad station
For other photos from Yogya and other Indonesian photos see the list under pages on the right side of the blog
Occupy Portland Update Sunday about 12:30 pm and again at 3
Amazing victory last night but this morning OP says cops came and tried to evict them at 9:30. Right now they are having a GA not at Pioneer Place but at the park, Chapman Sq, I think.
A few minutes ago a speaker said they are forming an Operation Committee which in the next 48 hours will focus on how to prepare how to go forward to establish a permanent location, a home base, where they will live together and work to attain normalization while they continue their political work.
watch the live stream for the latest and check their website for announcements, videos etc.
3pm Both parks are empty now of Occupiers. Amazingly non-violent on the Occupiers part. Cops doing their usual tough guy act when they have that costume on: shield on their faces, batons across their chests, pushing people up Main St but have now been on a stand off for quite awhile. Cops want all people out of the street. Not really sure the Occupiers care at this point since they lost the parks (park dept has already fenced them and moved in with equipment), I guess it’s just the principle at this point
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