On my way to Santa Fe. Last year it was Denver, Neal Cassidy's town. Now, I fly from Denver to Santa Fe, David Ossman's town. OK, he wasn't there long and it was 40 years ago, but his poems from Santa Fe define the destination. I arrive in its tiny airport after 10 when the town has basically shut down. I get an Expensive taxi to my hotel, Coyote South, which is quite nice. On the way, my taxi passes a gas station called Speedway. Is that the...
Watched the movie Barbie which I enjoyed, except the music (also another flick about Nicholas Cage invading people's dreams, which though it shared an idea with my favourite flick Paprika, wasn't very good) so when I arrived at the Inclan Brutal Bar, actually not far from my hotel, I ordered the Barbie Cocktail. I had chosen the Inclan for my first dining experience in Spain because the menu seemed inventive, both with cocktails and...
National Museum of Archeology The Guggenheim, Bilbao My favourite image in the Museum of Anthropology. The only cat I saw in Spain, until.... Looks a bit like Bob. In a park near my hotel in Gros, San Sebastian. The Museum of Anthropology Mural in central Madrid At a bus stop near the Anthropology Museum A lovely image from the Thyssen Museum. Tree in a Plaza in Logrono Logrono bus station, on my way to Zaragosa, and then by train, back to...
So then, why does one travel? If not out of necessity, then from the idea that enjoyment awaits in your destination, more or at least different enjoyment than one usually encounters at home. I go to Vegas to eat vastly better than I can in Vancouver. And so I left this city on Flair Airlines (my first for this airline) on the afternoon of March 11. For the first time in memory, I was assigned Zone One. I was the first person, minus children, to...
At last, in the air to Neal Casadyland. Promised thundershowers replaced with vast sunlight. In the ride into city, it looks as flat like my native Saskatchewan. Where are the famous mountains? I saw them not. In North Vancouver, that's impossible to do. After a pleasant and praries-evoking ride, we are at my hotel. I was expecting a hotel. This was minor motel-land. Construction on my floor, but I didn't come here for accommodation. According...
Sunday “I'm sorry sir, we have you booked for March 29th.” said the woman at the West Jet desk at 6:30 AM. I had been standing in line for half an hour as other passengers breeze by. She consults other workers and a notebook as I show her the document I'd printed out from the previous day, from Delta, assuring me of my flight on March 19th. I am forced to get a new ticket. How could this happen? The airlines' names may have changed, but I...