I had another coffee shop encounter today. No, it wasn't someone I was interested in.
The coffee shop was teeming with people; it was just after noon and people were streaming in for lunch. When I went to sit, the only available seat was an armchair next to a couch. I usually don't sit in that area because it's better suited for larger groups of people. However, with no other seating option, I took up the group area.
I was doing the sudoku in the local paper and studying Karl Marx when a woman approached me. By the looks of it, she was nearing the end of her 50's chapter in life, was full of life, and quite healthy. She asked if she could sit on the couch across from me. "Absolutely" I said, "Not a problem!"
A few minutes later, she shivered and said, "There must be an air conditioner above me because all this cold air is blowing on me." I, always endeavoring to do the gentlemanly thing, offered to switch seats with her, to which she eagerly agreed.
We talked a little bit after that switch about how she was nervous for her daughter. Apparently her daughter was getting eye surgery today, and was, in fact, in the operating room as we spoke. She told me a little bit about the operation and how the technology is supposed to be very good these days. Then her husband showed up. He was supposedly much older than she, though he looked around the same age as her. He brought them both cappuccinos and chocolate cake. A little voice in my head whispered how it wished it could eat like that...
Upon his arrival, she talked to him for a bit and I went back to my studies. I couldn't help but listen to her worries about her daughter; the husband seemed quite at ease and was actually cracking jokes, which was probably his way to cope with his own angst. Then he pulled out the newspaper and started to read, all the while she would talk to him about her worries. I felt it rather thoughtless of him, not to be consoling his wife, but from sometimes even the best gentleman isn't aware that he is being neglectful or doing something wrong. We are, after all, only human.
I wanted her to feel better, so I struck up a conversation with her. It turned out to be a phenomenal conversation! I started off by asking about her daughters eyesight, if the hospital was near, etc etc. The hospital was close she assured me, and they had their cellphone on it's loudest so they might spring away at the moments notice. She was a lovely lady, I could see in her eyes that she was a warm soul. There were lines around her eyes I suspected from smiling all her life, or from every time she clenched her eyes shut when giving her children the most whole hearted hug.
She seemed to relax after a while, especially after telling me how the eye surgery field has progressed in recent years and the clinic her daughter was at had an upstanding record. When her nerves had eased and her mind distracted, our conversation moved elsewhere. She asked me about my studies, Communication and Sociology I replied. We talked about family and how "genes are everything". I told her about how my Grandma told me I was like my grandpa, even though I've never met him. She told me how her grandchildren are just like their children, and how the entire family shares an artistic trait. I asked her if she had been to America, she told me a story about San Fransisco. She asked me about my favourite period in history (hers was the 60's), we talked of the Kennedy's and Dr. King Jr. Then we got into politics, we talked about Hilary and Obama. Our views there differed, and I could see that, at least in politics, she was a little eccentric.
She had some some opinions about Bill and Hilary, mostly that Bill is something of a "pervert" and Hilary is just in it for the power. I allowed her her say, then I spoke saying first that though Bill had made a mistake, I have to give him a second chance. For what he did for our country was undeniable and, falling upon my upbringing, "he made a mistake but he's still a good person, or he can continue doing his best to be a good person, just like the rest of us". She quickly rebutted that it hadn't just been Miss. Lewinsky, and that there had been many. I didn't have any information on this, I'd never heard of such an alligation so I couldn't make any further statements. But what I could say is that, taking a step back, it's easy to judge someone and say we'd be different, how could he? etc. But the pressures, the power, and the temptations that come from a position like that would be unlike anything we could possibly imagine. She conceded that no one would know how they would perform until they were in the position. I also made the point that I thought it was silly to squabble about what kind of a man Bill was compared to the current office holder and the choices he's made, not personally, but in the sake of an entire nation. The crises that we face today should be what we discuss, not Bills philandering.
We moved on to Hilary then.
Honestly, I wished to have more of a discussion about Barak and Hilary, but she insisted on talking about Hilary. I think this is where she went over the top, however, everyone is entitled to their opinions. She thought that the only reason Hilary stayed with Bill was because she knew she wanted to be President in the future, and that she hung on to him for status, power, and the sake of the media. I thought that rather demeaned Hilary. Hilary is a strong woman and I think she could do a good job, have a strong hand, and start to lead this Country out of it's self inflicted pit. But we didn't talk about that much.
I tried to bring in discussion about Obama as well, about his political advertisement system, writing books, not taking major donations, relying on word of mouth, traveling the country, meeting the people. But that topic was dropped as well.
Besides that discussion on Politics, the woman, whose name was Nicola and her husband was Richard, was a very nice lady. I had to go prepare for lecture but it was really nice to meet them. I shook both their hands before I left and they waved me goodbye as I left. I turned my back and as I walked out, I heard her say "Oh goodbye Zach! Goodbye! Goodbye!"
Such a sweet lady. I was glad to have met her.
Z
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Smiles
Two things made me smile recently.
I hadn't been to Starbucks in quite some time; there are many other coffee shops in Bristol equally as good. But I was again taken by a craving for Starbucks' formulaic facade which reminds me so much of home.
I used to go to Starbucks quite frequently and almost as frequently there happened to be a rather skinny, bright eyed and smiling brunette standing behind the counter. She was all smiles and I was all smiles back. In no time she had memorized my order; I merely had to show up and it was practically ready for me. And yet, I never enquired about her name, or who she was.
Then came a dark period; a time when my visits to Starbucks grew infrequent and my meetings with the smiling girl grew few and far between. She had hoped for my return, she told me so just yesterday. She thought she saw me last week! but was disappointed when it wasn't. "It was as if you read my mind" she said to me upon my arrival yesterday; as if I came to relieve her from her disappointment.
Her name is Sarah. She's out of Uni so a little older than myself. She has a degree in Deaf Studies; she can sign quite proficiently. She doesn't know what she wants to do with herself, I told her that makes two of us. We talked there by the espresso machine while she made drinks for people; latte, cappuccino, gingerbread latte... The time flew by and my lecture was fast approaching.
I had to leave, but it was with a smile. I told her I hoped to see her again soon, she said she was sure I would. It made me smile.
Later that day I was met with another surprise.
Natalie's dad sent her a package. Very cool, and inside was an advent calendar. That wasn't the only thing... Natalie's dad send Grace and me an advent calendar too! Hurray for a little piece of chocolate every day! And, because it had arrived slightly after December the first, I got to have not one, but four pieces of chocolate that day! Another thing to make me smile.
Z
Just found Sarah on Facebook a bit to my dismay; she is in a relationship. Tragic. Oh well!
I hadn't been to Starbucks in quite some time; there are many other coffee shops in Bristol equally as good. But I was again taken by a craving for Starbucks' formulaic facade which reminds me so much of home.
I used to go to Starbucks quite frequently and almost as frequently there happened to be a rather skinny, bright eyed and smiling brunette standing behind the counter. She was all smiles and I was all smiles back. In no time she had memorized my order; I merely had to show up and it was practically ready for me. And yet, I never enquired about her name, or who she was.
Then came a dark period; a time when my visits to Starbucks grew infrequent and my meetings with the smiling girl grew few and far between. She had hoped for my return, she told me so just yesterday. She thought she saw me last week! but was disappointed when it wasn't. "It was as if you read my mind" she said to me upon my arrival yesterday; as if I came to relieve her from her disappointment.
Her name is Sarah. She's out of Uni so a little older than myself. She has a degree in Deaf Studies; she can sign quite proficiently. She doesn't know what she wants to do with herself, I told her that makes two of us. We talked there by the espresso machine while she made drinks for people; latte, cappuccino, gingerbread latte... The time flew by and my lecture was fast approaching.
I had to leave, but it was with a smile. I told her I hoped to see her again soon, she said she was sure I would. It made me smile.
Later that day I was met with another surprise.
Natalie's dad sent her a package. Very cool, and inside was an advent calendar. That wasn't the only thing... Natalie's dad send Grace and me an advent calendar too! Hurray for a little piece of chocolate every day! And, because it had arrived slightly after December the first, I got to have not one, but four pieces of chocolate that day! Another thing to make me smile.
Z
Just found Sarah on Facebook a bit to my dismay; she is in a relationship. Tragic. Oh well!
Friday, November 30, 2007
A Day Of Thoughts
Today was a lot of thinking. My mind was chugging along with mostly thoughts of it own, some loosely or wholly unconnected from my academic endeavours.
Fire for Life
In Sociology we were talking last week about experiences and these week about tourism. Everything we have studied thus far in that class has been amazing and completely intertwined. However, those two subjects resonated with me. I think it is because I am pretty much a tourist for a prolonged amount of time and I am a glutton for all types of experiences. The following is more about the experiences part because tourists are generally those seeking said experiences.
This is the passages that got my cognitive cogs turning today:
"men travel widely to different sorts of places seeking different distractions because they are fickle, tired of soft living, and always seek after something which eludes them"*
*The italics are my own emphasis
This passage immediately related to our previous discussion on what people look for in experiences, what they look for when they buy something or go somewhere. Our class struggled with this concept; maybe the want status, maybe they want to grow as a person, maybe their possessions could adequately represent who they are. No, no, no, said our professor.
I had an inkling of what it might be the entire time but I never raised my voice. Towards the end the class made it's way there but never clearly articulated it. So after class I stopped the Professor and asked him if humans wanted experiences purely for experiences' sake. I couldn't describe it any better way then with a fire; the fire for life.
Love of life or experience is often paralleled to fire, e.g. people burn with passion or desire to experience things. My hypothesis is that we don't have this fire for new experience because we want something out of it specifically, it's just there.
New experiences are the logs we toss on this fire for life to keep it burning bright. We throw on the log and enjoy it's immediate rewards, increased heat, the satisfying crackle. But soon, the log begins to wither away and we become disenchanted with it. Then you must add another log to feed the fire. The desire isn't for the logs themselves because they come and go, i.e. possessions and experiences can be immediately satisfying but soon become the norm or confined to memory. What we strive for is for experience itself, the rush you might say, not what those experiences may provide us with in the end; anything extra may be considered as an added benefit. To summarize, we want to experience experience.
Carefully Worded & Hopefully Uncontroversial
Oscar Wilde died today; 107 years ago.
I don't know why, but I can't describe how I feel about Oscar Wilde. I was once told I looked like him when I had long hair. After finishing my previous reading material, I picked up The Picture of Dorian Gray and just finished the first chapter. Wilde is quite a descriptive writer and I like how he rights, though, through the first entire chapter my mind was uncontrollably tangential; it was struggling to remember something about Oscar Wilde.
Oh yeah. He was gay. Wasn't he?
I skimmed through my book and found his chronology. It mentions a man that may have been Wilde's first homosexual lover, despite the fact that he was married. Question answered.
Not that his sexual preferences in any way demean the majesty of his prose (perhaps to some, unfortunately), but I began to wonder if his sexual preference had an affect on his writing. In the first chapter of Dorian Gray there is a resounding male recognition of male beauty as expressed by the artist of his muse. But my question isn't actually about possibly homosexual undertones in Wilde's writing, it is more "am I more prone to look for possible homosexual undertones because of our current societal views on homosexuality?" That I'm not sure of.
Whether or not the following quotes have underlying implications of homoeroticism is for you to decide, but they are the ones that made me curious.
"You know yourself, Harry, how independent I am by nature. I have always been my own master; had at least always been so, till I met Dorian Gray. Then -- but I don't know how to explain it to you. Something seemed to tell me that I was on the verge of a terrible crisis in my life. I had a strange feeling that Fate had in store for me exquisite joys and exquisite sorrows. I grew afraid, and turned and quit the room." (The Picture of Dorian Gray, Penguin Classics, pg 10)
*Deleted from Wilde's original 1890 version was, "I knew that if I spoke to Dorian I would become absolutely devoted to him, and I ought not to speak to him."
"... How often do you see him?"
"Every day. I couldn't be happy if I didn't see him every day. He is absolutely necessary to me." (Dorian Gray, pg 12)
*Deleted in 1891 for Wilde's revised edition was as follows, "of course sometimes it is only for a few minutes. But a few minutes with somebody one worships mean a great deal." "But you don't really worship him?" "I do."
If I am more prone to look at these passages for homosexual influences, due to my current, and arguably, more accepting culture, then I am curious how the readers of 1890 may have regarded these passages? They strike me as so obviously homoerotic and yet, in a culture where homosexuality is completely unrecognized, hidden in the attic, ignored like the proverbial elephant, then what might they have taken these passages to mean? Perhaps they were taken as descriptively beautiful; beauty for beauty's sake?
At first I feel this view is ignorance. They didn't have all the facts, I don't think they were aware that Wilde was gay. They couldn't see the true meaning in his writing because of their disregard for homosexuality. They are therefore left to attribute Wilde's expressions of beauty to a description ultimate beauty or him being artistically extravagant; they could not begin to see that Wilde may be describing beauty as seen by homosexual attraction. But then I found myself questioning my own attitude. Maybe those of 1890 had it right; albeit, accidentally right.
Why couldn't Wilde be describing beauty for beauty's sake even if he was gay? Why did I immediately question his gayness then find passages to prove it? What does it matter? It doesn't!! I practically want to shout it out sitting here in this quite room tucked away in the sociology department. If the actual picture of Dorian Gray were painted by a woman and she was so passionate about him, I would be struck with the thought that she was deeply in love. And while the thought that Wilde may have been describing love at first sight when he writes of the painter meeting his muse, that thought was suppressed by the more pressing curiosity of his gayness.
I have to say, I feel a little ashamed in some way that is hard to describe. I feel like I should have just read the chapter and understood how beautiful Dorian Gray was without fixating on a possible homosexual attraction between painter and muse. Whereas perhaps the people of 1890 saw it as purely beauty due to an ignorance of homosexuality, I wish I had initially seen it as simply beauty due to the acceptance of difference; I wish I had just seen it as beauty.
Z
*Sidenote: Today I saw a man with a legitimate Guy Fawkes beard and and flat brimmed hat. It was incredible.
Fire for Life
In Sociology we were talking last week about experiences and these week about tourism. Everything we have studied thus far in that class has been amazing and completely intertwined. However, those two subjects resonated with me. I think it is because I am pretty much a tourist for a prolonged amount of time and I am a glutton for all types of experiences. The following is more about the experiences part because tourists are generally those seeking said experiences.
This is the passages that got my cognitive cogs turning today:
"men travel widely to different sorts of places seeking different distractions because they are fickle, tired of soft living, and always seek after something which eludes them"*
*The italics are my own emphasis
This passage immediately related to our previous discussion on what people look for in experiences, what they look for when they buy something or go somewhere. Our class struggled with this concept; maybe the want status, maybe they want to grow as a person, maybe their possessions could adequately represent who they are. No, no, no, said our professor.
I had an inkling of what it might be the entire time but I never raised my voice. Towards the end the class made it's way there but never clearly articulated it. So after class I stopped the Professor and asked him if humans wanted experiences purely for experiences' sake. I couldn't describe it any better way then with a fire; the fire for life.
Love of life or experience is often paralleled to fire, e.g. people burn with passion or desire to experience things. My hypothesis is that we don't have this fire for new experience because we want something out of it specifically, it's just there.
New experiences are the logs we toss on this fire for life to keep it burning bright. We throw on the log and enjoy it's immediate rewards, increased heat, the satisfying crackle. But soon, the log begins to wither away and we become disenchanted with it. Then you must add another log to feed the fire. The desire isn't for the logs themselves because they come and go, i.e. possessions and experiences can be immediately satisfying but soon become the norm or confined to memory. What we strive for is for experience itself, the rush you might say, not what those experiences may provide us with in the end; anything extra may be considered as an added benefit. To summarize, we want to experience experience.
Carefully Worded & Hopefully Uncontroversial
Oscar Wilde died today; 107 years ago.
I don't know why, but I can't describe how I feel about Oscar Wilde. I was once told I looked like him when I had long hair. After finishing my previous reading material, I picked up The Picture of Dorian Gray and just finished the first chapter. Wilde is quite a descriptive writer and I like how he rights, though, through the first entire chapter my mind was uncontrollably tangential; it was struggling to remember something about Oscar Wilde.
Oh yeah. He was gay. Wasn't he?
I skimmed through my book and found his chronology. It mentions a man that may have been Wilde's first homosexual lover, despite the fact that he was married. Question answered.
Not that his sexual preferences in any way demean the majesty of his prose (perhaps to some, unfortunately), but I began to wonder if his sexual preference had an affect on his writing. In the first chapter of Dorian Gray there is a resounding male recognition of male beauty as expressed by the artist of his muse. But my question isn't actually about possibly homosexual undertones in Wilde's writing, it is more "am I more prone to look for possible homosexual undertones because of our current societal views on homosexuality?" That I'm not sure of.
Whether or not the following quotes have underlying implications of homoeroticism is for you to decide, but they are the ones that made me curious.
"You know yourself, Harry, how independent I am by nature. I have always been my own master; had at least always been so, till I met Dorian Gray. Then -- but I don't know how to explain it to you. Something seemed to tell me that I was on the verge of a terrible crisis in my life. I had a strange feeling that Fate had in store for me exquisite joys and exquisite sorrows. I grew afraid, and turned and quit the room." (The Picture of Dorian Gray, Penguin Classics, pg 10)
*Deleted from Wilde's original 1890 version was, "I knew that if I spoke to Dorian I would become absolutely devoted to him, and I ought not to speak to him."
"... How often do you see him?"
"Every day. I couldn't be happy if I didn't see him every day. He is absolutely necessary to me." (Dorian Gray, pg 12)
*Deleted in 1891 for Wilde's revised edition was as follows, "of course sometimes it is only for a few minutes. But a few minutes with somebody one worships mean a great deal." "But you don't really worship him?" "I do."
If I am more prone to look at these passages for homosexual influences, due to my current, and arguably, more accepting culture, then I am curious how the readers of 1890 may have regarded these passages? They strike me as so obviously homoerotic and yet, in a culture where homosexuality is completely unrecognized, hidden in the attic, ignored like the proverbial elephant, then what might they have taken these passages to mean? Perhaps they were taken as descriptively beautiful; beauty for beauty's sake?
At first I feel this view is ignorance. They didn't have all the facts, I don't think they were aware that Wilde was gay. They couldn't see the true meaning in his writing because of their disregard for homosexuality. They are therefore left to attribute Wilde's expressions of beauty to a description ultimate beauty or him being artistically extravagant; they could not begin to see that Wilde may be describing beauty as seen by homosexual attraction. But then I found myself questioning my own attitude. Maybe those of 1890 had it right; albeit, accidentally right.
Why couldn't Wilde be describing beauty for beauty's sake even if he was gay? Why did I immediately question his gayness then find passages to prove it? What does it matter? It doesn't!! I practically want to shout it out sitting here in this quite room tucked away in the sociology department. If the actual picture of Dorian Gray were painted by a woman and she was so passionate about him, I would be struck with the thought that she was deeply in love. And while the thought that Wilde may have been describing love at first sight when he writes of the painter meeting his muse, that thought was suppressed by the more pressing curiosity of his gayness.
I have to say, I feel a little ashamed in some way that is hard to describe. I feel like I should have just read the chapter and understood how beautiful Dorian Gray was without fixating on a possible homosexual attraction between painter and muse. Whereas perhaps the people of 1890 saw it as purely beauty due to an ignorance of homosexuality, I wish I had initially seen it as simply beauty due to the acceptance of difference; I wish I had just seen it as beauty.
Z
*Sidenote: Today I saw a man with a legitimate Guy Fawkes beard and and flat brimmed hat. It was incredible.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Thankgiving!
Just wanted to quickly mention that I had a Thanksgiving dinner here!
The study abroad programme here at Bristol organized a feast! It was pretty good but nothing compared to my mothers or grandmothers cooking! We had turkey and stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy (which I actually ate!) steamed carrots and even pumpkin pie. The pumpkin pie was sufficient but I cannot wait to come back to America and get an honest to goodness piece of pumpkin pie.
I also met some new study abroad folk at that lovely dinner. So that was quite fun!
Z
The study abroad programme here at Bristol organized a feast! It was pretty good but nothing compared to my mothers or grandmothers cooking! We had turkey and stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy (which I actually ate!) steamed carrots and even pumpkin pie. The pumpkin pie was sufficient but I cannot wait to come back to America and get an honest to goodness piece of pumpkin pie.
I also met some new study abroad folk at that lovely dinner. So that was quite fun!
Z
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
The First and Last
Just like my dear friend Charles Dickens, I seem to have little control over the brevity of my musings, so I'll just have to go with the proverbial "flow." I've finished my fourth leisure book since being in Bristol. That book happens to be the classic A Christmas Carol, and it was fantastic. It's really put me in the Christmas spirit which, I believe, is in holding with the American way; For, we all know that Christmas in America starts immediately after Thanksgiving!
But this post is not meant to be about my books, nor is it meant to be about Thanksgiving or Christmas. This post is about Cornwall! Penzance! St. Ives! and Land's End!
The First and Last
It was not a particularly great awakening that cold Saturday morning on the 17th of November; I was still stinging with the burglary of my beautiful, innocent, albeit powerful little laptop. "But!" I avowed, "I will do my best to put that tragedy aside and fully enjoy the journey that lay before me." That task may have been the most difficult part of the trip, which is, arguably, a good thing.
I hadn't packed the night before, and I was far more unprepared than just an empty bag. Let me try and paint you a picture! I had left some of my clothes in the dryer upstairs, in fact, it contained most of the clothes I needed for the trip. Not only that, I had left my only jacket on another floor due to the previous nights festivities. And with only an hour between my awakening and my buses arrival, I began to run.
It wasn't hard to collect my things, however my coat wasn't to be found anywhere. This was deeply disappointing, but I could sustain the loss if need be. Or so I thought! Turns out, the night prior, I had put my wallet in my jacket as a place for safe keeping thinking, "my jacket is big and noticeable! I won't forget it on my way downstairs!" How regretfully wrong I was. Not having that jacket meant that I didn't have a wallet; not having a wallet meant I didn't have a trip to Penzance!
The consequence of this was that other people began to wake up by my pounding on their door. After some speedy detective work I finally found my jacket. A friend had taken it into safe keeping, forgetting that I was leaving early the next morning. Ok! Jacket ready, bag packed, and I did it all in good time. I was out the door and was at the bus stop on time to meet my traveling buddy Anna and our transportation with a excited silly grin.
Collecting out tickets and getting on our train was business as usual. Before too long we were steaming away from Bristol, due south for Cornwall!
I cannot possibly describe the breathtaking beauty of the Cornish countryside. It is surprising how diverse the landscapes of England are, but Cornwall has taken my favour. We traveled through farmers fields laden with hoards of sheep and cattle. We passed an enormous statue of a man that stood alone in his field, posed in mid stride, as if he were chasing the setting sun. We wove through the valleys of gently sloping hills; hills that are best described like Bilbo's burrow in the hobbit. We past acres of leafless forests and we bridged over many a babbling brook. The colour! The colour was phenomenal! Hues from autumns pallet were splashed upon the countryside producing an awe inspiring picture. No matter what is written here, my attempts are in vain. There is but one thing to do! If ever you have the chance, travel to the lands of Cornwall and see it for yourself!
As for the train journey itself, there isn't much to say. It was long to be sure; four hours long. There was also a bus journey as well that took us from one train station to another. But we made our way to Penzance in due time. Upon our arrival, we were met with a quite unexpected surprise.
Ah! most people making their first steps outside the train depot would marvel at the beauty of the ocean, marvel at St. Michaels Mount rising out of the ocean and the castle that lay upon it, or notice the picturesqueness of the quaint seaside town itself. Our first steps outside the train station were met by a torrent of sea air that nearly pushed us back inside! Not to be discouraged, with a resounding nod we decided the gale gave this clean cut town a rugged windswept look. Indeed, the ocean heaved and tossed as it fought with the wind, and St. Michaels Mount seemed to be a tired traveler, heavily laden by the turmoil of the surrounding sea.
We couldn't check into our Hostel until 5 and we arrived about 3:30. It was a long, cold, hour and a half wait. In fairness though, we explored a lot of Penzance in that time. Saw some tall ships, watched a bit of a football match and some of a field hockey match. Found some nice places to eat, a cinema, a coffee shop...
We finally checked into our Hostel and I paid the man. Anna had bought the train tickets the last two times, so I figured it was only fair. I have to say that night was a little uneventful. The problem with traveling right now is that the darkness falls at around five, and getting earlier all the time. By the time we were checked in an settled, it was dark. So exploration ceased and dinner became the priority.
We went to this nice little pub called the Alexandria. We had hearty meals and I had some Cornish Ale. It was pretty bitter and I wasn't terribly impressed. She and I talked for hours and hours that night, making plans, talking of home, really anything and everything. We retired that night early, we would need our energy for the following day.
Our first point of interest that Sunday was Lands End. Lands End is the furthest point west in England, the first and last point as some call it. We went down to the bus station early that morning and checked out the bus times. Sure enough there was a bus that would take us relatively straight there. There was a coffee shop next to that bus station that I'll speak of later, But I'll mention now that it was my favourite part of Penzance.
It was fun traveling by bus instead of a coach or taxi. We went on a back-roads route through these amazing little villages. There were neolithic stones sticking out of fields at peculiar angles and buildings that seemed as old as the land on which it lay. I loved approaching a new town because the first thing you would always see was the church steeple. Anna and I would take guesses at which steeple we were heading towards as we weaved our way through those back country roads.
Surprisingly, it wasn't Lands End that took my breath away. Our bus made its way down a precipitous road and we came upon Sennen Cove. This little village seemed to have one foot on land and one foot in the sea. It's homes had their backs to a cliff with faces pointed defiantly towards the sea. It was a gorgeous.
As our bus made its final screeching halt, my spirits slumped a little. We all have preconceived notions of how things are going to be before we experience them, but no body incorporates into their preconception an enormous white whale of a tourist facility perched upon the very picturesque cliff you hoped to marvel at in it's raw state. Nevertheless, that elephant was there and we made due.
After walking around the complex, which was pretty much a ghost town as it was no longer tourist season and it was Sunday, we decided to walk away from it. We made out way down a path and walked for about a mile until the facility was out of site. It was then that Lands End revealed its beauty to us and we sat down upon it's cliffs in awe. Again, Lands End has a much different beauty then the countryside or the seaside town. It's just rocks. Don't get me wrong, I don't mean to be condescending or undermine it's beauty, but Lands end is a high cliff rising out of the sea and you can see the effects of the sea on its face. It made me think back to my Geology professor and I wished that he was there with me. I wanted to know what rocks I was looking at and the know more of the relationship of weathering and time to this now famous cliff.
I watched it roll in. I knew what it was; I'd seen it a hundred times before. It was a dark wall, a haze of deep blue that stretched from the oceans top and the clouds underside. It blurred the distinction from land and sky, it hid the vanishing point of the ocean, and it continued to roll towards us. "That's the rain coming at us Anna." I smiled just then, how I've missed the ocean and the storms it passes off to land. Soon we were drenched and I was happy, then we were on a bus back to Penzance.
I suppose I'll mention the cafe now. I know I've already written more than many would care to read, but if for no one else, I'll continue for my own memories sake.
We arrived back in Penzance around one or two I would guess. I had a few things to do: One, I had to buy some gloves because my hands were freezing. Two, we were in Cornwall! We had to get an authentic Cornish Pasty. And three, I wanted to do a little shopping for people, especially Dan, who first showed me The Pirates of Penzance.
I got my gloves, and some trinkets, and we found an amazing pasty shop. All was going according to plan, but I added a twist to our agenda. I decided that we needed to go back to the Cafe by the bus station to reap the benefits of our Pasty find, to do a little post-carding, and for me to get some coffee. That coffee shop fit me like the last piece to a puzzle.
The Blue Bay Cafe.
If I had a ship and I was sailing the world, I would stop in Penzance and go to this coffee shop. Was the coffee the best I've ever had? No. The blueberry muffin perhaps? Not even close. What then? It was the location.
Either staring out large open windows, or sitting outside, the view was spectacular. Next to this coffee shop was a marina full of sailing boats, not power boats. Next to this coffee shop was the train station and the bus station; easy access to all of Cornwall. Next to this coffee shop was St. Michaels Mount towering over the bay with it's aged watchful eye. Next to this coffee shop was the ocean; the love of my life and apple of my eye.
If I had my ship, I would sail around under the shadow of St. Michaels Mount, I would moor in the marine, I would walk in the morning from my ship to the coffee shop and appreciate the beautiful world that surrounded me, or watch the beautiful people that inhabit it. While I was there, I could did the latter bit, but it would be nice to have been able to sail around that gorgeous bay. I believe that Cafe resonated with me because of it's location, and it's quaintness, it's serenity. Even as I write this I long to be back there now.
Well, the day was waning and our travels were incomplete! So we jogged across the street and hopped on the first bus to St. Ives. I was not prepared for the beauty of St. Ives.
We arrived with perhaps an hour and a half before the sun set. It was one of the best 90 minutes of my life. The harbour in St. Ives was full of wonderful little wooden boats, all beached due to the ebbing tide. The beaches, while incredible, seemed almost out of place! It was almost as if God had taken a scoop from the white sandy beaches of some tropical island and given it as a gift to St. Ives. We walked along leaving our footprints to be washed away with the eventual flood tide.
Our time in St. Ives was far too short. We could have eaten there I suppose, but neither of us were hungry due to the immense Cornish pasties we had in Penzance. So it was, looking over our shoulders all the way out, that we said goodbye to St. Ives. Some day I will return to that place.
The rest of our night was limited. The bus trip back was a lot longer but we got to go through Marazion, which is the town closest to St. Michaels Mount. By the time we were back in Penzance though, it was completely dark and most of the shops were closed. So we decided to see a film! The only thing I can say about that is do not go see Beowulf, it was truly awful.
After the film we got some dinner at a nice restaurant and then retired back to our hostel. It was probably 11 before we returned and we were completely worn out. Sleep came easy, getting up was harder.
The trip back on Monday was different, and those differences should be noted. But without going into great depth, for my fingers are wary, for our return trip we came back along the coast. We literally traveled between these vivid red cliffs and the resounding blue of the ocean along Cornwall's coast before eventually turning North again for Bristol. I should also mention that we missed out first train through no fault of our own! The prompters were down at the station and we waited at the wrong platform. Whoops! However, they were generous enough to give us a trip back free of any additional charge, and we made it home almost at the same time as was originally planned!
Another adventure complete! Cornwall has been experienced, perhaps not as throughly as it could have been but I dare say we did a good job of it!
Z
But this post is not meant to be about my books, nor is it meant to be about Thanksgiving or Christmas. This post is about Cornwall! Penzance! St. Ives! and Land's End!
The First and Last
It was not a particularly great awakening that cold Saturday morning on the 17th of November; I was still stinging with the burglary of my beautiful, innocent, albeit powerful little laptop. "But!" I avowed, "I will do my best to put that tragedy aside and fully enjoy the journey that lay before me." That task may have been the most difficult part of the trip, which is, arguably, a good thing.
I hadn't packed the night before, and I was far more unprepared than just an empty bag. Let me try and paint you a picture! I had left some of my clothes in the dryer upstairs, in fact, it contained most of the clothes I needed for the trip. Not only that, I had left my only jacket on another floor due to the previous nights festivities. And with only an hour between my awakening and my buses arrival, I began to run.
It wasn't hard to collect my things, however my coat wasn't to be found anywhere. This was deeply disappointing, but I could sustain the loss if need be. Or so I thought! Turns out, the night prior, I had put my wallet in my jacket as a place for safe keeping thinking, "my jacket is big and noticeable! I won't forget it on my way downstairs!" How regretfully wrong I was. Not having that jacket meant that I didn't have a wallet; not having a wallet meant I didn't have a trip to Penzance!
The consequence of this was that other people began to wake up by my pounding on their door. After some speedy detective work I finally found my jacket. A friend had taken it into safe keeping, forgetting that I was leaving early the next morning. Ok! Jacket ready, bag packed, and I did it all in good time. I was out the door and was at the bus stop on time to meet my traveling buddy Anna and our transportation with a excited silly grin.
Collecting out tickets and getting on our train was business as usual. Before too long we were steaming away from Bristol, due south for Cornwall!
I cannot possibly describe the breathtaking beauty of the Cornish countryside. It is surprising how diverse the landscapes of England are, but Cornwall has taken my favour. We traveled through farmers fields laden with hoards of sheep and cattle. We passed an enormous statue of a man that stood alone in his field, posed in mid stride, as if he were chasing the setting sun. We wove through the valleys of gently sloping hills; hills that are best described like Bilbo's burrow in the hobbit. We past acres of leafless forests and we bridged over many a babbling brook. The colour! The colour was phenomenal! Hues from autumns pallet were splashed upon the countryside producing an awe inspiring picture. No matter what is written here, my attempts are in vain. There is but one thing to do! If ever you have the chance, travel to the lands of Cornwall and see it for yourself!
As for the train journey itself, there isn't much to say. It was long to be sure; four hours long. There was also a bus journey as well that took us from one train station to another. But we made our way to Penzance in due time. Upon our arrival, we were met with a quite unexpected surprise.
Ah! most people making their first steps outside the train depot would marvel at the beauty of the ocean, marvel at St. Michaels Mount rising out of the ocean and the castle that lay upon it, or notice the picturesqueness of the quaint seaside town itself. Our first steps outside the train station were met by a torrent of sea air that nearly pushed us back inside! Not to be discouraged, with a resounding nod we decided the gale gave this clean cut town a rugged windswept look. Indeed, the ocean heaved and tossed as it fought with the wind, and St. Michaels Mount seemed to be a tired traveler, heavily laden by the turmoil of the surrounding sea.
We couldn't check into our Hostel until 5 and we arrived about 3:30. It was a long, cold, hour and a half wait. In fairness though, we explored a lot of Penzance in that time. Saw some tall ships, watched a bit of a football match and some of a field hockey match. Found some nice places to eat, a cinema, a coffee shop...
We finally checked into our Hostel and I paid the man. Anna had bought the train tickets the last two times, so I figured it was only fair. I have to say that night was a little uneventful. The problem with traveling right now is that the darkness falls at around five, and getting earlier all the time. By the time we were checked in an settled, it was dark. So exploration ceased and dinner became the priority.
We went to this nice little pub called the Alexandria. We had hearty meals and I had some Cornish Ale. It was pretty bitter and I wasn't terribly impressed. She and I talked for hours and hours that night, making plans, talking of home, really anything and everything. We retired that night early, we would need our energy for the following day.
Our first point of interest that Sunday was Lands End. Lands End is the furthest point west in England, the first and last point as some call it. We went down to the bus station early that morning and checked out the bus times. Sure enough there was a bus that would take us relatively straight there. There was a coffee shop next to that bus station that I'll speak of later, But I'll mention now that it was my favourite part of Penzance.
It was fun traveling by bus instead of a coach or taxi. We went on a back-roads route through these amazing little villages. There were neolithic stones sticking out of fields at peculiar angles and buildings that seemed as old as the land on which it lay. I loved approaching a new town because the first thing you would always see was the church steeple. Anna and I would take guesses at which steeple we were heading towards as we weaved our way through those back country roads.
Surprisingly, it wasn't Lands End that took my breath away. Our bus made its way down a precipitous road and we came upon Sennen Cove. This little village seemed to have one foot on land and one foot in the sea. It's homes had their backs to a cliff with faces pointed defiantly towards the sea. It was a gorgeous.
As our bus made its final screeching halt, my spirits slumped a little. We all have preconceived notions of how things are going to be before we experience them, but no body incorporates into their preconception an enormous white whale of a tourist facility perched upon the very picturesque cliff you hoped to marvel at in it's raw state. Nevertheless, that elephant was there and we made due.
After walking around the complex, which was pretty much a ghost town as it was no longer tourist season and it was Sunday, we decided to walk away from it. We made out way down a path and walked for about a mile until the facility was out of site. It was then that Lands End revealed its beauty to us and we sat down upon it's cliffs in awe. Again, Lands End has a much different beauty then the countryside or the seaside town. It's just rocks. Don't get me wrong, I don't mean to be condescending or undermine it's beauty, but Lands end is a high cliff rising out of the sea and you can see the effects of the sea on its face. It made me think back to my Geology professor and I wished that he was there with me. I wanted to know what rocks I was looking at and the know more of the relationship of weathering and time to this now famous cliff.
I watched it roll in. I knew what it was; I'd seen it a hundred times before. It was a dark wall, a haze of deep blue that stretched from the oceans top and the clouds underside. It blurred the distinction from land and sky, it hid the vanishing point of the ocean, and it continued to roll towards us. "That's the rain coming at us Anna." I smiled just then, how I've missed the ocean and the storms it passes off to land. Soon we were drenched and I was happy, then we were on a bus back to Penzance.
I suppose I'll mention the cafe now. I know I've already written more than many would care to read, but if for no one else, I'll continue for my own memories sake.
We arrived back in Penzance around one or two I would guess. I had a few things to do: One, I had to buy some gloves because my hands were freezing. Two, we were in Cornwall! We had to get an authentic Cornish Pasty. And three, I wanted to do a little shopping for people, especially Dan, who first showed me The Pirates of Penzance.
I got my gloves, and some trinkets, and we found an amazing pasty shop. All was going according to plan, but I added a twist to our agenda. I decided that we needed to go back to the Cafe by the bus station to reap the benefits of our Pasty find, to do a little post-carding, and for me to get some coffee. That coffee shop fit me like the last piece to a puzzle.
The Blue Bay Cafe.
If I had a ship and I was sailing the world, I would stop in Penzance and go to this coffee shop. Was the coffee the best I've ever had? No. The blueberry muffin perhaps? Not even close. What then? It was the location.
Either staring out large open windows, or sitting outside, the view was spectacular. Next to this coffee shop was a marina full of sailing boats, not power boats. Next to this coffee shop was the train station and the bus station; easy access to all of Cornwall. Next to this coffee shop was St. Michaels Mount towering over the bay with it's aged watchful eye. Next to this coffee shop was the ocean; the love of my life and apple of my eye.
If I had my ship, I would sail around under the shadow of St. Michaels Mount, I would moor in the marine, I would walk in the morning from my ship to the coffee shop and appreciate the beautiful world that surrounded me, or watch the beautiful people that inhabit it. While I was there, I could did the latter bit, but it would be nice to have been able to sail around that gorgeous bay. I believe that Cafe resonated with me because of it's location, and it's quaintness, it's serenity. Even as I write this I long to be back there now.
Well, the day was waning and our travels were incomplete! So we jogged across the street and hopped on the first bus to St. Ives. I was not prepared for the beauty of St. Ives.
We arrived with perhaps an hour and a half before the sun set. It was one of the best 90 minutes of my life. The harbour in St. Ives was full of wonderful little wooden boats, all beached due to the ebbing tide. The beaches, while incredible, seemed almost out of place! It was almost as if God had taken a scoop from the white sandy beaches of some tropical island and given it as a gift to St. Ives. We walked along leaving our footprints to be washed away with the eventual flood tide.
Our time in St. Ives was far too short. We could have eaten there I suppose, but neither of us were hungry due to the immense Cornish pasties we had in Penzance. So it was, looking over our shoulders all the way out, that we said goodbye to St. Ives. Some day I will return to that place.
The rest of our night was limited. The bus trip back was a lot longer but we got to go through Marazion, which is the town closest to St. Michaels Mount. By the time we were back in Penzance though, it was completely dark and most of the shops were closed. So we decided to see a film! The only thing I can say about that is do not go see Beowulf, it was truly awful.
After the film we got some dinner at a nice restaurant and then retired back to our hostel. It was probably 11 before we returned and we were completely worn out. Sleep came easy, getting up was harder.
The trip back on Monday was different, and those differences should be noted. But without going into great depth, for my fingers are wary, for our return trip we came back along the coast. We literally traveled between these vivid red cliffs and the resounding blue of the ocean along Cornwall's coast before eventually turning North again for Bristol. I should also mention that we missed out first train through no fault of our own! The prompters were down at the station and we waited at the wrong platform. Whoops! However, they were generous enough to give us a trip back free of any additional charge, and we made it home almost at the same time as was originally planned!
Another adventure complete! Cornwall has been experienced, perhaps not as throughly as it could have been but I dare say we did a good job of it!
Z
Friday, November 16, 2007
The Duality of Man
My reading of The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde over the course of the week somehow seems suiting on this rather bleak Friday morning. The duality of man, the struggle of good and evil within, often seems a passing thought. But you really begin to ponder it when you become a victim of that evil side of man; like when someone breaks in an steals your laptop.
So it has been the case with me.
Between 7 last night and 10:45 someone entered my room and took nothing but my laptop. I supposed I should be grateful for that, but honestly... I don't have anything else to steal. That fact is a rather sore one. Everyone around me has filled their respective spaces with things from home and nice rugs, or bedspreads, pictures, little knick knacks. I have the most meager room in the house and yet I'm the one that becomes the victim of crime and the one thing that was actually of worth was taken from me. For shame!
It was my stupid mistake. There is an upper window and a lower window. The lower window is constantly closed but is large enough to enter in and out of if one should want...
The upper window is a smaller vent window. It locks with a lever. While I was under the impression that it was shut, in light of recent events, I've come to a hypothesis about what happened.
Sometimes when I go to close it, the level goes down and the window feels shut. However, the window gets shut into a sort of half position, not quite closed, not necessarily open. I believe it got locked in this half position and with a little shimmy tool on the outside it was opened thereby allowing the larger window to open.
I keep looking out my window hoping it'll just show up there, right outside my window, or maybe they'll get a change of heart and put it through the mail slot. Unlikely is the case but I can't help but wish for it.
I rearranged my room almost immediately after the police left last night. Couldn't stand to be close to that window. Can't really stand to be in that room. I don't think i'll be spending any time in it anymore if I can help it, it's just a place to sleep and dress to me now, and it'll never be anything more.
Gotta go to class. Life goes on. Lesson learned. This one hurt a lot.
Z
So it has been the case with me.
Between 7 last night and 10:45 someone entered my room and took nothing but my laptop. I supposed I should be grateful for that, but honestly... I don't have anything else to steal. That fact is a rather sore one. Everyone around me has filled their respective spaces with things from home and nice rugs, or bedspreads, pictures, little knick knacks. I have the most meager room in the house and yet I'm the one that becomes the victim of crime and the one thing that was actually of worth was taken from me. For shame!
It was my stupid mistake. There is an upper window and a lower window. The lower window is constantly closed but is large enough to enter in and out of if one should want...
The upper window is a smaller vent window. It locks with a lever. While I was under the impression that it was shut, in light of recent events, I've come to a hypothesis about what happened.
Sometimes when I go to close it, the level goes down and the window feels shut. However, the window gets shut into a sort of half position, not quite closed, not necessarily open. I believe it got locked in this half position and with a little shimmy tool on the outside it was opened thereby allowing the larger window to open.
I keep looking out my window hoping it'll just show up there, right outside my window, or maybe they'll get a change of heart and put it through the mail slot. Unlikely is the case but I can't help but wish for it.
I rearranged my room almost immediately after the police left last night. Couldn't stand to be close to that window. Can't really stand to be in that room. I don't think i'll be spending any time in it anymore if I can help it, it's just a place to sleep and dress to me now, and it'll never be anything more.
Gotta go to class. Life goes on. Lesson learned. This one hurt a lot.
Z
Monday, November 12, 2007
Favourites from Moby Dick
I mentioned in the previous post that I wanted to share some quotes. These are they which I spoke of:
"Why is almost every robust healthy boy with a robust healthy soul in him, aat some time or other crazy to go to sea? Why upon your first voyage as a passenger, did you yourself feel such a mystical vibration, when first told that you and your ship were now out of sight of land? Why did the old Persians hold the sea holy? Why did the Greeks give it a separate deity, and make him the own brother of Jove? Surely all this is not without meaning. And still deeper the meaning of that story or Narcissus, who because he could not grasp the tormenting, mild image he saw in the fountain, plunged into it and was drowned. But that same image, we ourselves see in all rivers and oceans. it is the image of the ungraspable phantom of life; and this is the key to it all" Chapter 1
"Men may seem detestable as joint stock-companies and nations; knaves, fools, and murderers there may be; men may have mean and meagre faces; but man, in the ideal, is so noble and so sparkling, such a grand and glowing creature, that over an ignominious blemish in him all his fellows should run to throw their costliest robes.That immaculate manliness we feel within ourselves, so far within us, that it remains intact though all the outer character seem gone; bleeds with keenest anguish at the undraped spectacle of a valor-ruined man. Nor can piety itself, at such a shameful sight, completely stifle her upbraidings against the permitting stars. But this august dignity I treat of, is not the dignity of kings and robes, but that abounding dignity which has no robed investiture. Thou shall see it shining in the arm that wields a pick or drives a spike" Chapter 6
"I leave a white and turbid wake; pale waters, paler cheeks, where'er I sail. The envious billows sidelong swell to whelm my track; let them; but first I pass." Chapter 37
"Swerve me? ye cannot swerve me, else ye swerve yourselves! man has ye there. Swerve me? The path to my fixed purpose is laid with iron rails, whereon my soul is grooved to run. Over unsounded gorges, through the rifled hearts of mountains, under torrents' beds, unerringly I rush! Naught's an obsticale, naught's an angle to the iron way!" Chapter 37
There is a bit where the mate Stubb is urging forward his whale boat crew. This is excellent but lengthy. It's in Chapter 48. Also, Chapter 54: The Town-Ho's Story is amazing. But writing down an entire chapter would be silly.
"For I believe that much of a man's character will be found betokened in his backbone. I would rather feel your spine than your skull, whoever you are. A think joist of a spine never yet upheld a full and noble soul. I rejoice in my spine, as in the firm audacious staff of that flag which I fling half out to the world." Chapter 80
"There is, one knows not what sweet mystery about this sea (the Pacific) whose gently awful stirrings seemt o speak of some hidden soul beneath; like those fabled undulations of the Ephesian sod over the buried Evangelist St. John. And meet it is, that over these sea-pastures, wide-rolling watery prairies and Potters' Fields of all four continents, the waves shoudl rise and fall, and ebb and flow unceasingly; for here millions of mixed shades and shadows, drowned dreams, somnambulisms, reveries; all that we call lives and souls, lie dreaming, dreaming, still; tossing like slumberers in their beds; the ever-rolling waves but made so by their restlessness." Chapter 111
"Emblazonings, as of crowned Babylonian kings and queens, reigned over everything. The sea was as a crucible of molten gold, that bubblingly leaps with light and heat." Chapter 124
And when sees the sun in his wake he exclaims, "Ha, ha, my ship! thou mightest well be taken now for the sea-chariot of the sun. Ho, ho! all ye nations before my prow, I bring the sun to ye! Yoke on the further billows; hallo! a tandem, I drive the sea!" Chapter 124
"'tis a noble and heroic thing, the wind, who ever conquered it? In every fight it has the last and bitterest blow. Run tilting at it, and your but run through it. Ha! a coward wind that strikes stark naked men, but will not stand to receive a single blow." Chapter 135
Of course there are those classics like "Call me Ishmael," "Vengeance on a dumb brute, and "The sea is my Harvard and Yale" but most everyone has heard of those.
Anyhow, there are many more but those are a handful of my favourites!
Z
"Why is almost every robust healthy boy with a robust healthy soul in him, aat some time or other crazy to go to sea? Why upon your first voyage as a passenger, did you yourself feel such a mystical vibration, when first told that you and your ship were now out of sight of land? Why did the old Persians hold the sea holy? Why did the Greeks give it a separate deity, and make him the own brother of Jove? Surely all this is not without meaning. And still deeper the meaning of that story or Narcissus, who because he could not grasp the tormenting, mild image he saw in the fountain, plunged into it and was drowned. But that same image, we ourselves see in all rivers and oceans. it is the image of the ungraspable phantom of life; and this is the key to it all" Chapter 1
"Men may seem detestable as joint stock-companies and nations; knaves, fools, and murderers there may be; men may have mean and meagre faces; but man, in the ideal, is so noble and so sparkling, such a grand and glowing creature, that over an ignominious blemish in him all his fellows should run to throw their costliest robes.That immaculate manliness we feel within ourselves, so far within us, that it remains intact though all the outer character seem gone; bleeds with keenest anguish at the undraped spectacle of a valor-ruined man. Nor can piety itself, at such a shameful sight, completely stifle her upbraidings against the permitting stars. But this august dignity I treat of, is not the dignity of kings and robes, but that abounding dignity which has no robed investiture. Thou shall see it shining in the arm that wields a pick or drives a spike" Chapter 6
"I leave a white and turbid wake; pale waters, paler cheeks, where'er I sail. The envious billows sidelong swell to whelm my track; let them; but first I pass." Chapter 37
"Swerve me? ye cannot swerve me, else ye swerve yourselves! man has ye there. Swerve me? The path to my fixed purpose is laid with iron rails, whereon my soul is grooved to run. Over unsounded gorges, through the rifled hearts of mountains, under torrents' beds, unerringly I rush! Naught's an obsticale, naught's an angle to the iron way!" Chapter 37
There is a bit where the mate Stubb is urging forward his whale boat crew. This is excellent but lengthy. It's in Chapter 48. Also, Chapter 54: The Town-Ho's Story is amazing. But writing down an entire chapter would be silly.
"For I believe that much of a man's character will be found betokened in his backbone. I would rather feel your spine than your skull, whoever you are. A think joist of a spine never yet upheld a full and noble soul. I rejoice in my spine, as in the firm audacious staff of that flag which I fling half out to the world." Chapter 80
"There is, one knows not what sweet mystery about this sea (the Pacific) whose gently awful stirrings seemt o speak of some hidden soul beneath; like those fabled undulations of the Ephesian sod over the buried Evangelist St. John. And meet it is, that over these sea-pastures, wide-rolling watery prairies and Potters' Fields of all four continents, the waves shoudl rise and fall, and ebb and flow unceasingly; for here millions of mixed shades and shadows, drowned dreams, somnambulisms, reveries; all that we call lives and souls, lie dreaming, dreaming, still; tossing like slumberers in their beds; the ever-rolling waves but made so by their restlessness." Chapter 111
"Emblazonings, as of crowned Babylonian kings and queens, reigned over everything. The sea was as a crucible of molten gold, that bubblingly leaps with light and heat." Chapter 124
And when sees the sun in his wake he exclaims, "Ha, ha, my ship! thou mightest well be taken now for the sea-chariot of the sun. Ho, ho! all ye nations before my prow, I bring the sun to ye! Yoke on the further billows; hallo! a tandem, I drive the sea!" Chapter 124
"'tis a noble and heroic thing, the wind, who ever conquered it? In every fight it has the last and bitterest blow. Run tilting at it, and your but run through it. Ha! a coward wind that strikes stark naked men, but will not stand to receive a single blow." Chapter 135
Of course there are those classics like "Call me Ishmael," "Vengeance on a dumb brute, and "The sea is my Harvard and Yale" but most everyone has heard of those.
Anyhow, there are many more but those are a handful of my favourites!
Z
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