Other stuff Archives - Page 3 of 6 - The Urban Crows Blog

Normal Service Will Be Resumed..

..once the Atacama coughs me up.

The endless Chilean desert has claimed me this week. Five days tooling around the Atacama with 2 fellow geologists is a great way to avoid the zombie-market-COVID-19-toilet-paper apocalypse.

*Indeed there is after last week’s meltdown.*

The three of us have been self isolating in a Toyota 4×4, well stocked with pringles, sun screen, rancid boots and single-use water bottles. We’ve been looking at 2 silver mining projects between the Chilean towns of Taltal in the south, and Iquique in the north. The projects are roughly 400km apart as a hugely overworked crow flies, with nothing but desert and dust between them.

The Beethoven vs Chopin Adagio Smack Down Post

When it comes to piano concertos I’m a bit of a traditionalist. I prefer the early 19^th and late 18^th century pieces to their 20^th century descendants. I suspect it’s because of the lyricism of the great European composers of that era, and – to be blunt- the whistle-along tunes they composed. If you ask me, a lot of 20^th Century pieces involve too much noodling; great if you’re a musical theorist who understands what’s going on but not always so great to listen to for lay people like me. But hey, that’s just my opinion and what do I know?

*Beethoven. Cheer up.* *You’re a genius.*

There are 2 stand out concertos that I keep going back to. Both are popular and well known which is a slight departure in terms of the music I’ve been writing about on this blog.

Firstly, Beethoven’s wonderful Piano Concerto No 5, known as the Emperor concerto; a name given to it by the English publisher of the piece. And then there’s the boringly named Piano Concerto No. 1 by Chopin.

It’s All Gravy

A couple of years back, I was walking with a friend through the Christmas market on the southern end of Hungerford Bridge in London. It’s an interesting, brutalist spot for a market, trapped between the muddy river, a massive bridge and the imposing late 1960s concrete arts bunker known as the Southbank Centre.

*The Southbank centre.* *A kinder, artsier sort of brutal.*

(I only found out recently that the Southbank centre was actually the vanguard of what was supposed to be a ground-breaking architectural redesign of London in the 1950s and 60s. The plan called for large parts of central London to be razed, including Soho and Whitehall, to be redeveloped with huge concrete office and residential blocks. Covent Garden was also slated to be flattened but the local residents organised and defeated the plan. Thank fuck it never happened.)

I Hate Christmas Markets

With Christmas just around the corner, towns and cities around the UK -and Canada too for that matter- begin to sprout outdoor Christmas markets like mushrooms on a cowpat. They pop up anywhere there’s space; row upon row of bland little wooden huts looking like the bastard offspring of a beach hut that’s had a one-night stand with a camp site toilet. I saw at least 6 different-but-exactly-the-same markets in the UK last week, scattered morosely around London, York and Harrogate. My wife and I are divided on the attractions of the seasonal markets. She loves them; me, less so..

Crystal Power Revisited

Months back I went on a bit of a rant about my contempt for the myriad metaphysical powers that some people ascribe to crystals. Kundalini tickling, energizing chakras, transporting you to alternate dimensions – apparently there’s nothing a nicely formed kyanite crystal can’t unlock. And according to some ~~charlatans~~ believers, the common ore-forming minerals – the ones I’ve spent my career exploring for, like galena and chalcopyrite – also possess amazing restorative powers which I wish I’d known more about in my first incarnation as a humble field geologist.

It’s all bollocks as far as I’m concerned, but each to their own.

Then an old colleague, Kirsten, forwarded me a wonderful link to a comedy sketch about, yes you guessed it, crystal power mumbo-jumbo. I won’t bore you by trying to describe it; just click on the link and enjoy. Suffice to say, I have renewed respect for rose quartz.

(Update: If you’re outside Canada & having trouble viewing the video, my friend Karen sent me a second link that works in the UK. I’ve posted it below.)

My Favourite Carpet

Buying Rugs In Pakistan

The city of Quetta is a dump. It’s the provincial capital of Baluchistan, the western most province of Pakistan. It sticks out like a nasty looking spike, with Iran to the south and Afghanistan to the north. I was there in the late 1990s waiting for a government permit to head off road and up to the border region with Afghanistan to prospect for copper (see my earlier blog posts here and here) I waited about 3 weeks for the permit, which was finally granted after I hosted 15 or so officials from the ministry for lunch at a Chinese restaurant.

*The Afghan border. I was waiting for a permit to go here.*
*Sometimes I question the wisdom of my choices.*

Fast forward to 2019 and now it’s not just a dump, it’s a bloody dangerous dump, rife with Islamic sectarian extremism. The Shia Hazara tribes have been targeted by Sunni militants leading to bombings, kidnappings and other nefarious goings on. To compound its problems, the region is also prone to major earthquakes. The last big one in 1935 killed an estimated 40,000 residents.

Sunny Side Up.

Where’d The Sunshine Go?

It’s that time of the year in BC. The weather’s gone all autumnal and rainy – the fine, misty, miserable drizzle that gets in through any zip or seam. The annoying damp spot on our kitchen ceiling, the one we can’t seem to fix, is back to doing its soggy thing. Yes, it’s Hallo Fall! Hallo mildew!

But to coin an over-used British phrase… “Mustn’t grumble, aye, could be worse.”

We had a very pleasant summer this year. A lovely warm forest-fire-free summer. A few years back it was a different story. Fire season was in full force and the valley north of Pemberton, where our cabin is, was shrouded in a thick pall of foggy smoke. A vigorous blaze was raging up along the banks of Anderson Lake towards the town of Lillooet, about 30km away from our modest shack.

*This year’s smoke-free view at our cabin.*

Hadrian’s Wall

A Walk Along The Edge Of The Roman Empire

Two thousand years before Donald Trump’s underfunded (and, as yet, fruitless) efforts at walling in the US, the Romans were busy building walls on the outlying borders of their vast empire. In Scotland, they built the Antonine wall in AD142. It was a 63km long earth bank cutting east to west across the country at its narrowest point. And in today’s modern Germany, you can still see remnants of the Limes Germanicus, a partly-fortified frontier that used a combination of natural obstacles and wooden palisade to guard the northern border of the Empire from the dastardly unconquered Germanic tribes.

But Hadrian’s wall in northern England is probably the best known. It stretches for over 70 miles across hill and valley from the east coast of England, at Wallsend in the outskirts of modern day Newcastle, to Bowness on Solway on the west coast. Bowness is an isolated but attractive little village that’s periodically cut off from the rest of the country by high tides on the Solway Firth.

*Hadrian’s Wall as it is today, Upper Denton nr. Carlisle.*

Trouble With Toilets

I spent last weekend lolling around in the sunshine at the Vancouver folk music festival, down at Vancouver’s dusty Jericho Beach Park. It’s a wonderfully scenic spot for a fun weekend of eclectic music, watched by an equally eclectic Pacific Northwest crowd. People who wouldn’t normally be seen dead in a tie-dye T-shirt dose themselves in patchouli oil and let their inner hippies out of the artisan-crafted, organic bamboo box for a couple of days. Unfortunately, on hot weekends there’s nowhere in the festival grounds to hide from the blazing sun, so most sane people eventually gravitate to the beer garden for a cold brew and the safety of the sun umbrellas.

The north side of the beer garden is the business end, lined with grey and blue plastic jiffy johns; on warm days, they turn into scorching hot chemical-scented saunas. God help anyone who’s unfortunate enough to get stuck in one.

*Not my finest sartorial moment but at least I had cider.*

Normal Service Will Be Resumed

at the end of Hadrian’s Wall

For the next week, give or take a day, my wife and I will be hobbling along the full 135km length of Hadrian’s Wall in northern England, pork pie in one hand and well-thumbed Ordnance Survey route map in the other.

*Anybody seen a wall? I’ve lost my map.*

As I’m sure you’ve already spotted, this raises 3 questions. Who was Hadrian? Why did he have a wall? Where is the wall? And why would I want to hike it? OK, that’s 4 questions.

Category: Other stuff

Normal Service Will Be Resumed..

..once the Atacama coughs me up.

Like this:

The Beethoven vs Chopin Adagio Smack Down Post

Like this:

It’s All Gravy

Like this:

I Hate Christmas Markets

Like this:

Crystal Power Revisited

Like this:

My Favourite Carpet

Buying Rugs In Pakistan

Like this:

Sunny Side Up.

Where’d The Sunshine Go?

Like this:

Hadrian’s Wall

A Walk Along The Edge Of The Roman Empire

Like this:

Trouble With Toilets

Like this:

Normal Service Will Be Resumed

at the end of Hadrian’s Wall

Like this:

..once the Atacama coughs me up.

Like this post? Please share it:

Like this:

Like this post? Please share it:

Like this:

Like this post? Please share it:

Like this:

Like this post? Please share it:

Like this:

Like this post? Please share it:

Like this:

Buying Rugs In Pakistan

Like this post? Please share it:

Like this:

Where’d The Sunshine Go?

Like this post? Please share it:

Like this:

A Walk Along The Edge Of The Roman Empire

Like this post? Please share it:

Like this:

Like this post? Please share it:

Like this:

at the end of Hadrian’s Wall

Like this post? Please share it:

Like this: