We’ve been reading the Song of Ice and Fire books by George R. R. Martin also. It started when we saw the TV series coming up in HBO and combined with a desire to read the same thing at the same time. We bought the first book at an airport, 2 copies, and have actually read all that’s so far been published, together, at the same time also, so we have 2 copies of everything else also! The point though is that in Columbus, in German Town, we bought the 2nd volume I think?

They also had these stones set amidst a brick path in a park with carved quotes in German in them from famous historical figures and all. What was odd though was that while there were some people who would have presumably spoke or wrote in German in the first place, there were others who, I would think, obviously didn’t know German, like Joan of Arc. Now, I might be wrong though, but it seems as if they took famous quotes, regardless of original language, and actually translated them into German.

Hocking Hills was gorgeous though. Maria’s been before when young. We spent a couple of days there, hit up all the points, had our GPS with us and created some gorgeous renders in Google Earth showing exactly what our elevation was in the 3D terrain mode. I’ll need to get some screen captures of those and post them somewhere. It was surprising though because Ohio in the summer is a little humid, a little hot, a little buggy, but down at the park, whilst hiking, it was none of that! I wonder if it had to do with the elevation or the different kind of terrain, but it was barely warm, barely humid, barely buggy, and we were shaded by lovely dappled sunlight most the entire time.

There were many different hiking areas: a water fall, a reservoir, a rocky cave, a deep canyon, some lovely ridges.

It is, also, as close as we’re going to get to October 29th, 2000, when last October rusted. Has it been over a decade?

This particular batch of photos were taken at Riverside Park, Riverbend Park, and the Reservoir, all in Findlay. We had started this particular tour of public spaces in Findlay with the intention of casing out possible outdoor wedding locations. While nice the lot of them, there were certain concerns including how alcohol is not allowed that might make it less desirable, picturesque though it is. Another concern would be whether a wedding’s a good idea in the first place; eloping might be more fun.

I suppose a more substantive actual blog post might be warranted at some point as well, but maybe I’m just not feeling much in a writing mood. Technically it is National Novel Writing Month, though I didn’t know that until a few weeks ago, and though I don’t actually intend to do anything about it, and though I’ve tried in the past and have failed with varying degrees of failure. Perhaps later. It’s really a mood thing.

Either way, on to the photos!

An unknown relative of the southern ilk of his family had been hovering around noisily snapping photos with a Sigma digital camera larger than her head borrowed from his uncle, the eldest son, whose duty it had been to organize the funeral of his grandfather. He hadn’t recognized her, and has since forgotten all other details about her, but her presence seemed especially inappropriate as it was time to witness the gathering of the ashes of the deceased and the larger group of core mourners had been trimmed down to just the direct male descendants and his American fiance.

They had been lead to a small back room, he being reminded yet again to hold his grandfather’s portrait in his arms straight and with 2 hands, by 2 Chinese men in their mid-twenties, to a room dominated by the large furnace that had engulfed everything with fire from the casket to the Communist flag to the deceased and the glasses and the false teeth within while he, his fiance, and his father had been drinking iced tea from bottles outside. As the furnace lifted and released the metal cart on which everything had been wheeled in, he thought for a moment he saw the outlines of ashen flowers, their color burned away into a uniform grey, their petals frozen open by fire. Upon closer inspection though it turned out to be all that remained of his grandfather, the larger pieces of bone from the human body, and a smear of melted glass amongst a field of rusted nails that had once held the casket together.

The 2 Chinese attendants had between them 4 metal trays with metal tongs and began deftly if unceremoniously to chip away at and collect the largest pieces of bone they could find: part of a skull, a femur, a crooked spine, a broken pelvis, others. He was surprised at how disconcerted he felt at the rather morbid display, the quick way the attendant’s hands moved, the grind of metal against bone, and for not the first time he questioned the necessity of his presence in the entire affair. The bone collection was interrupted by the cell phone of one of the attendants whose ring was that Smash Mouth song “All Star,” the words “I ain’t the sharpest tool in the shed” oddly appropriate as the bone collection was interrupted a second time by the same attendant, the same phone, the same obnoxious ring, mere moments later.

When all 4 trays were filled and the last tiny pieces of bone had been particularly knocked out of and collected from the melted glass, they were lead away, he at the front carrying the portrait, an unsure expression on his face as more photos were taken by the unknown relative. (Later, while he and his fiance looked over the 436 photos taken at the funeral during an interruption in discussing the business they were undertaking with his father by the journalist who brought the DVD of photos only his computer would read, he was relieved to discover that his expression had never been inappropriate; a small smile here, a big smile there, solemn elsewhere.) He reflected that this is not at all how he thought a cremation would be like. He hadn’t expected anything to be left over but ash, definitely not large pieces of bone. The 2 attendants were going to turn the pieces that they had collected into powder to fill the urn with, and the thought of a bone grinding machine seemed yet again morbidly disconcerting. In his mind a cremation was supposed to be a clean affair: a large fire, a body in a casket, and dust all that remained to be swept, the last time one saw the body when it was clean, and at peace, and said goodbye.

There were also at least 4 other funerals going on at the same time at the sprawling funeral home complex on the far West side of Beijing, and theirs had seemed if not the least then at least close to least important of them all, occupying the relatively smaller, more off to the side funeral parlor than the grand, monolith of a parlor that stood at the center of the funeral home complex square, though his grandfather’s funeral still had to finish exactly at 11AM to make room for another right after.

This was his 2nd Chinese funeral, his 2nd funeral ever. Less than a year ago he had attended the funeral for his grandmother’s elder brother, in coincidentally the same complex and in the same parlor even, though they had been less hurried then, and he did not witness more than just the many hundreds of mourners paying their respects. (Later, as he flipped through the photos with his fiance he would get his first look at the massive line that waited to enter the funeral hall where his grandfather’s body laid, that walked in and waited at the direction of the staff, were told to bow 3 times out of respect, walked around the body, cried at the large portrait that hung overhead, shook each and everyone of their hands and nearly a thousand hand shakes later, dispersed into the dusty air outside; Beijing was just dusty in and of itself, but many things were burned there.) He had been 96 six when he passed, his grandfather 98. The woman who married his uncle had also passed away just a few weeks ago, at a much younger age, perhaps mid 60s, due to a self inflicted gunshot wound, a funeral to which he wasn’t invited, whom no one attended, not even her own daughter.

It seemed the tradition in his family; of all the deaths he’s known, his great grandmother dying at 96, setting the milestone by which all further longevity in her offspring were measured so that a dying man may say he is now at peace, having lived as long as his mother, and a cousin, the half British son of his father’s sister who found life of mixed descent too difficult to face in 1960s China and burned a house down around him, that they either greyed and wilted and faded with time from this life at the ripe old age of 96, or were abruptly cut off.

His presence was quite important at this funeral though, being the direct male descendant. Of the seemingly interminable number of names for obscure relatives the Chinese have, ranging from “grandfather’s 10th brother” to “foreigner who married my grandmother’s brother’s daughter,” the one for “direct male grandson,” and his wife, whose auspicious title his fiance now occupied since it was far too complicated and needed far too many words to explain to all the well wishers that they were in fact only engaged to be married, held a special place, especially in the heart of his grandmother, who when speaking of her deceased husband always had a tear in her eye whenever she mentioned her “only grandson.”

All the flowers had been freshly cut that morning. Large wreaths bore the names and well wishes of strangers and distant relatives who couldn’t or wouldn’t make the event. His cousin’s name apparently appeared on at least 6 different wreaths, one for himself and his wife, one for his family, some for his multiple companies and business endeavors, and more. He and his fiance’s name adorned the wreath directly in front and to the left of the casket, with the relatively simple declaration that his grandfather was much loved, and will be missed, a rather lengthy concept to be translated and transcribed into but a few short Chinese characters, handwritten by an old man with a grey beard who sat amidst a room full of flowers writing with a felt tipped pen, where they and others had gone to make their flower arrangements and pay in large stacks of cash for the entire affair, the cost of which easily exceeded that of multiple average annual salaries.

A 3-wheeled trash cart had been used to cart all the flowers and wreaths from the parlor to the outdoor furnace across the courtyard. Again, it lacked a certain quality of ceremony as the large piles of flowers were dumped onto the ground in a heap and those willing and able pulled the flowers from their wood and woven infrastructure and tossed it all into the fire. There were 4 such furnaces, each capable of holding a small home, and other funerals burned more than just flowers: books, bundles of clothes and bedding, all the things that reminded them of their deceased loved ones and all the things that those loved ones would presumably want in the afterlife. His father was particularly excited to be able to use a giant shovel and push the overflowing mass of plant matter into the gaping mouth of the furnace. It must be a male trait to want to play with fire. He and his fiance speculated that there must have been some kind of chemical combustible as the water content in the plant matter seemed too high to sustain any kind of meaningful fire.

His grandfather looked very small in his coffin. The casket was made of a light colored wood with an attempt at embellishment in the carvings along the side and general varnishing, though the poor craftsmanship was more than obvious. He wasn’t sure when the body had been moved, but it couldn’t have been too long ago, so maybe it wasn’t important he thought, that the coffin have any ability to last or be presentable. A large Communist flag, a field of red and the hammer and sickle in gold, covered the majority of the casket. A large bed of flowers wrapped all the way up to the upper edge of the box, itself raised maybe 3 feet off the ground; his grandmother had complained that she, being so short, couldn’t really see her late husband’s face and so insisted, as the family of the deceased paid their respects and made their way around the casket, on standing, without help, so she could look upon her late husband’s face. (Later, while looking over the photos, he and his fiance would discover that unfortunately, the photo of them bowing in respect to his grandfather actually cut out his grandfather, leaving only the Communist flag visible in the frame, giving the impression that they were in fact, bowing to the Communist flag.)

These kinds of funerals were actually public events. There were, of course, all the relevant family members in attendance, those that could or wanted to make it that is, and more than that since his uncle had insisted on tracking down all the distant relatives from down south. His grandfather had distanced himself from that family a long time ago, citing 2 reasons for the rift: 1, that his father had impregnated one of the household staff, and 2, that his father had forced his sister to marry someone against her will. Nevertheless, and despite his grandmother’s wishes otherwise, his uncle had summoned them all to attend; his grandmother would later remark that such was the way with the first born son: when the father dies, there is a grab for power between him and the mother. A press release had also been given to many of the national newspapers, and his father had even started an online blog about the event, so the funeral was rather widely and publicly known. (He remembered that when his grandmother’s elder brother had died and he was visiting some relatives in Hong Kong while he renewed his multiple entry Chinese tourist visa, because you need to do things like that when living in China like leaving the country every 60 days, that the obscure likes of the daughter of a relative whom he couldn’t even name the relation to had been well aware of the funeral and all the details of the life of the deceased.) So hundreds, if not thousands, of people had poured in. (His father later joked that it was probably convenient for people to attend; there were at least 4 funerals, and if one were efficient about it, they could pay their respects to all of them.) Large fabric bound guest books had been laid out for everyone to sign, and a giant cardboard bucket of small white flowers with clip on pins sat on either side of the entryway to the parlor. As they all passed and shook their hands, his father would some of the time take the time to introduce people personally as he, and especially his fiance, had no idea who these people were. Some were even very important members of State Bureaus or the Communist Party. Others, no one knew. (It would later be remarked that in the end, they’d shaken the hands of some very powerful people, but would probably never know it, and, upon perusing through the guest books, more than once were there people apparently in attendance whom no one had noticed at all.)

One act of ceremony that he was thankfully spared to was the walking of the ash filled urn around the funeral complex courtyard. He had seen many other funeral parties participating in this what he thought was exceptionally ludicrous display of faux grandiosity while he, his fiance, and his father had waited for his grandfather’s body to finish burning. The urns themselves, or at least the ones they had bought for his grandfather, were very expensive, though there were others whose relative inexpense was astonishing (starting at less than $100.00). There were very specific measurements to which their urn had to qualify, as his uncle had insisted that, when his grandmother dies, the ashes of both be put into the same concrete drawer; there was, apparently, a designated drawer already set aside for my grandfather, some place of import amongst the other Party members, but it was only so wide so his urn couldn’t be too big otherwise a second wouldn’t fit. When they asked the staff whether it was appropriate to purchase 2 urns at the same time, since they knew that 2 of urns they had picked out would fit in the drawer, if snugly, the staff rather superstitiously suggested we not. It’s apparently a bad omen to purchase an urn for someone still alive. They weren’t going to be able to collect his grandfather’s ashes for a while still, but for those other funeral attendants who already had, the urn was placed on top of a crudely red painted palanquin with garish artificial gold embellishments flanked in front by 2 metal statues of storks whose brittle legs were reinforced with what looked like PVC piping. 2 funeral staff members wearing drab costume military uniforms would make a show of goose stepping and saluting in front of the palanquin, held by 2 other staff members wearing equally drab and costume traditional Chinese servants clothes, while a party of mourners brought up the rear. They’d all walk an L shape along the outer edge of the funeral complex courtyard, bow 3 times, then walk back.

The realization from all of this, of course, is that as cliched as it obviously is, life is dreadfully short, and the prospect of working the majority of it in a job he does not enjoy, helping to make other people greater successes than he, just isn’t worth it.

However, with the start of a couple of new projects involving additional online content creation, my hope is that I can once again pick up where I’ve always left off, and give this blog the attention it deserves. There’s a lot of history here, and I wouldn’t want to lose it or devalue its importance. I have been pretty good about updating the Milestones though; that at least is up to date.

I also think my father came to visit at some point, most likely in June, though it’s confusing because they were originally supposed to come in May. I had even bought both he and our doctor round trip airplane tickets and hotel reservations, all at the very last minute, and had to cancel them, all at the very last minute again, only to be told a couple of weeks later, at the very last minute, that they need round trip airplane tickets and hotel reservations again, only to find out upon landing that the doctor ran off with his ex-wife, never to be seen again until the end of the trip, and the wonderful hotel room he found for them in Times Square needs to be canceled and replaced with the Yonkers Roadway Motel, because my father is just like that. Oh and did I mention, all a the very last minute. They also had a massive agenda of speaking with editors of Nature, CDC scientists, IP lawyers, and innumerable other matters relating to Maria and my ultimate self employment, non of which got addressed. Not that I’m bitter, or complaining, but there’s an unfortunate growing part of me that wonders why I keep giving these people additional chances to take advantage then disregard me.

But that is not the point of this post, nor is my grandfather’s funeral, which Maria and I went to. It was nice being back in China, to visit that is. I think we’ve both decided that China is best kept for the visitors, and that, even for long periods of time, it’s infinitely better to visit than live in that country. We accomplished a lot while we were there as well, including getting her refund from business school, something that involved a literal scavenger hunt for departmental seals. They had said to budget 3 or so hours for the entire process, because it required us to move from one department to another, handing them one thing after the other, getting their seals collected on a piece of paper to ultimately trade for another piece of paper that said she’d withdrawn. It’s like, in this day and age, hard to imagine that the MBA office’s computers weren’t connected to the library, IT, or student affairs. I’m sure I’ve ranted about this all before somewhere, but come on people. More on all of that later, again, that’s not the point of this post.

The point is, that we had a lovely long weekend in Ohio for the Fourth.

Perhaps for the last time, at least until we decide to keep a nocturnal schedule, and the thought of which has been sounding more and more appealing what with these very warm summer days in NYC, we drove through the night again. It was actually my last day at work, but I’d rather not get into any of that right now. Suffice it to say we were free to go where we wanted, for as long as we wanted, barring BAR study, the only limiting factor. Part ways through New Jersey, the car all of a sudden got really loud. We had noticed that it was running louder and louder ever since our trip up to Vermont, but this was out of hand. No check engine light though, no handling issues, so we just pressed one, because, well, what could we do? We could postpone our trip, but that’s no fun, and we had to be there by Friday afternoon (we left Thursday evening).

You see, we had gotten invited to Maria’s best friend’s 4th of July party, on the afternoon of the 1st, to view some fireworks, eat some good food, take in some good company. She had even invited me, something which for rather obscure reasons moved me an awful lot. It felt nice to have someone consider me in their plans, and I was touched that she thought of me. We got in, effectively slept all day, though in the middle of napping I went to get the car fixed at the local garage. It turns out the pipe connecting the engine to the muffler had rusted through, a quick cut, measure, and weld fixed it, quite cheaply I might add. Then there was the actual party, at which they had an above ground pool, which we didn’t use that day but the next, after playing cards and board games. There was breakfast with the family at Panera, dinner at home, driving around town and the countryside. We saw a movie. I always like it when I visit Maria’s home town. I might like it enough to live there. The people are so nice, the community as well, and it makes me wish for a more stable, permanent lifestyle, one in which I can actually be a part of a community, know the people around me. I’ve rented all my life, and briefly at that, so I’ve never felt that kind of connection, and SLC is know for not having a “community,” even going so far as to have open forums on why there is no “community” at SLC. So may it’s this sense of being out of place, out of sync with the people around me, that makes me envious of the lives of those who have that connection. Maria’s best friend has her husband, their beautiful daughter, and their entire family around them and all their friends. They have a beautiful house and yard, and a garden with vegetables that hopefully this next time we visit, we’d be able to partake from. They’re renovating their garage. There’s a lot that’s enviable about all of that.

• Maria ran the Rockland Road Runners (RRR) George Wodicka Hook Half Marathon
• My grandfather died
• Maria ran the City Parks Foundation Run for the Parks
• We went to China for my grandfather’s funeral
• While in China, Maria collected her tuition refund from Tsinghua University, a pretty easy and painless process though they did make us go on a scavenger hunt around campus collecting different department’s seals, certifying that we had no library books out, that we had no internet usage fees due, that we had returned her student ID card, that the IMBA department had verified those 4 seals, and that all 5 seals were present before we could collect our refund, though we collected our refund before all this and sort of did the scavenger hunt just so we wouldn’t rock the boat too much so to speak. And the entire time I was just thinking to myself, no, we didn’t use the library because all the books are in Chinese, none of the staff speak English, you can’t bring your bag into the place, and there’s no place to hang out, and no, we did not use the internet because it’s not free and we’d have to pay for it based on usage.
• While in China, we visited the Farm again (photos to follow)
• While in China, we may have formalized positions for us with PBL and FTCGLLC! We may not have to work for other people anymore! We may get to be independent contractors!
• While in China, International Workers Day!
• Neither of us really likes our jobs…

Otherwise, in general, we’re just short on time, and don’t really get to see each other that much, but we do get to see some movies, which is always good. As far as plans for the near to moderate future, well only time will tell ;)

But hopefully all the best as possible!
Now, photos:

Also, and completely irrelevant, but so I don’t lose it, and because I really like it and my Maria found it for me:

Horace, Ode 1.9

You see how Soracte stands out white
with deep snow, and the struggling trees can
no longer sustain the burden, and the rivers
are frozen with sharp ice.

Dispel the cold by liberally piling logs on
the fireplace, and draw out more generously,
o Thaliarchus, four-year-old unmixed wine
from the two-handled Sabine jar.

Entrust everything else to the gods; as soon as
they have stilled the winds battling on the heaving
sea, neither the cypress trees nor
the ancient ash trees are shaken.

Leave off asking what tomorrow will bring, and
whatever days fortune will give, count them
as profit, and while you’re young don’t scorn
sweet love affairs and dances,

so long as crabbed old age is far from
your vigor. Now let the playing field and the
public squares and soft whisperings at nightfall
(the appointed hour) be your pursuits;

now too the sweet laughter of a girl hiding
in a secret corner, which gives her away,
and a pledge snatched from her wrists
or her feebly resisting finger.

Otherwise, “check out this cool building we go to tour!” (Boilerplate!)

And this is a complete aside, but right now I’m limiting my photos to 600px, should I make them bigger? Hmmmmmmm…also…I’m thinking of redesigning the blog again. Hmmmmmmmm….

A couple of notes regarding the furniture:

• The Expedit bookshelves rock, like they’ve always rocked, though apparently the larger 5 by 5 cube ones are being discontinued.
• The Efektiv filing cabinets are great too, though they don’t come with pre-drilled holes for the handles since there are so many different kinds you can get, so that sucks
• We bought a power drill! W00t it came in sooooo handy!
• The Pax wardrobes are MASSIVE, exceptionally heavy, and exceedingly difficult to build. The instructions also suck, don’t follow them. I built the 2nd one much better than the first, in what Ikea would consider the “wrong” order of operations. What’s also stupid is that our apartment is essentially collapsing on itself. We had this piece of pre-existing dresser that came furnished with the apartment, and no matter which wall we put it against, the top drawer would slide out of its own accord. This meant that I had to intentionally build the wardrobe “wrong” to account for the extra lean due to the floors. What this means is that if you look closely, the wardrobe is leaning back to overcompensate.
• The Utby bar table is excellent as well, sturdy, solid, very utilitarian in look with all metal legs and frame. We got a nice speckled stone effect counter top for it, and 4 Stig barstools which, though plastic and very inexpensive, seem more than satisfactory.
• We didn’t go with the expensive Ikea couch, but instead bought something sight unseen from NYFurnitureMan.com, a dealer we found on Craigslist. A third the price, and it folds down into a bed. Now that I’ve built it though, the quality is obviously not great, it’s obviously very cheap, but well, whatchagonnadoeh?

Well, it’s almost 4AM heh, I should go to sleep. But I feel so productive! The only thing left is to move out the rest of the existing furniture from before (the dresser, a chair, a desk and mirror), and get 2 rugs (it’ll really tie the room together). What’s unfortunate though is that we currently have no room for a coffee table. We were originally planning to loft the bed, but given the way the apartment leans, I’m a little hesitant to do so. Nevertheless, it’s still an option, and definitely one to seriously consider since well, we have very little room right now heh.

It really makes a difference though, the new layout and everything. And it looks like we’ll be able to do the renovations we want to the kitchen as well, after which the apartment will feel even more open than it already does thanks to the new layout. There’s still a couple items to get, I think another 2 by 2 and 1 by 5 Expedit bookshelves, and a shoe rack. We’re gonna build in some more shelves for storage, and it’ll be great! What a difference a little work makes. I feel quick handy actually!

Link: Beyoglu on NYCMag, couldn’t find real site
Menu: Dinner
Address: 1431 Third Ave., New York, NY 10028 at 81st St
Phone: 212-650-0850

Location notes:
Um, standard Upper East Side? Pretty nice, lots of restaurants in the neighborhood, fancy grocery stores, wine shops, etc. At a rather wide intersection right next to a very good Thai place also. It’s a very cozy feeling restaurant, dark and kind of candlelit in ambience. Very bistro like, old world glamour again, though with some modern twists. Either way, not too much to say about the location, pretty standard though.

Food notes:
Now we love Middle Eastern slash Turkish food. Excellent stuff, mushy, pita bread, mmmmmm good stuff. Pretty standard actually in presentation of the traditional foods, not like trying to be all fancy and mix it up, just good fooding in general. The portions are very big, they have a full bar, and Turkish beer! We didn’t try any of the alcohol because we didn’t feel like it really, but the other couple did and seemed to enjoy it. They have a meat and seafood special every day that changes, the time we went it was some kind of lamb and some kind of whole, baked fish. Sounded good but we didn’t order it. The idea though, is to go back :)

Foods tasted (taken from menu):

• Iskender Kebab – vertically grilled thinly sliced lamb & beef on a bed of pita bread, with yogurt, tomato sauce
• Karides Guvec – jumbo shrimp casserole baked with mushrooms, peppers, plum tomatoes & kashkaval cheese
• Vegetarian Platter – combination of our delicious vegetarian mezzes, including (from memory): Hummus – chick peas & tahini seasoned w/ cumin & garlic, Cacik – thick homemade yogurt, cucumbers & garlic, Patlican Salatasi – mashed eggplant salad, Kisir (Tabbuli) – cracked wheat (bulgur) salad, Zeytinyagli Ispanak – fresh spinach, shallots & dill sauteed w/ olive oil
• Some kind of dessert, don’t remember what it was, remember it was good, maybe a creme brulee?

Drinks tasted:
Some kind of Turkish beer that we didn’t taste? They had a good, full selection of stuff, and definitely worth trying the Turkish beer as its a specialty and all, just didn’t that day.

Other notes:
For the money, the service, the ambience, the location, and the general tastiness of everything, definitely a great place. I mean, entrees don’t break $20 at MOST, we’re talking just over $30 per person for dinner including large entrees, drinks, and desserts to split. The vegetarian sampler that we ordered comes in 2 different sizes, and there’s one for cold and one for hot mezzes. We tried the cold, we’ll try the hot next time. I think the best way to order is actually to take one of those large samplers to split, every one get an entree, split a couple of desserts, then drinks all around! Sounds lovely no? And definitely laid back enough to kind of just, hang out and relax through the night.

I’m also a big fan of this going out with other couples things :)