view da la lòbbia

A few years ago, I published a short post featuring Brooklyn-based photographer Jason Gardner and his work on the Recife Carnaval. Since then, Jason has continued his travels to the northeast of Brazil and his explorations of the region’s unique music and cultural tradition.

Break.

Not sure all you have heard of Kickstarter, but in case you haven’t, it’s an online platform where artists, writers, game developers, and other creative people can seek funding for their projects. In a nutshell, creators set a goal: for example, I’m a documentary maker with a great script and footage, but I need $10,000 to complete my documentary and send it to festivals. I create a short presentation video (this is a must) and describe my project, which will be posted on the Kickstarter website. I set a financial goal ($10,000) and a deadline to reach that goal. If visitors find my pitch compelling, they can pledge money towards my project, in exchange for gifts related to the final work (a signed DVD, a ticket to the premiere night, etc.). If I manage to raise $10,000 within my deadline, the backers’ credit cards are charged and I can complete my project. Kickstarter takes a 5% fee. If I don’t successfully fund my project, nothing happens. Kickstarter claims that “44% of projects have reached their funding goals” to date, for a total of “over $350 million … pledged by more than 2.5 million people, funding more than 30,000 creative projects” since launch in April 2009. Pretty impressive. Here is more from the Kickstarter website, and there is plenty of interesting media coverage about it.

But to get back to Jason Gardner.

Jason recently launched a Kickstarter campaign to raise $20,000 to complete a self-published book of photographs and text showing the rich cultural heritage of Pernambuco–a work that he defines of “visual anthropology”. As I’m posting this, 139 backers pledged $10,918, just over 50% of the goal, with 17 more days to go (deadline is December 29, 2012). You can read more about the project, view the presentation video, and pledge here.

I just visited my new favorite place in the world: the Garage Center for Contemporary Culture in Moscow. I’d read a long New Yorker article about its founder, Dasha Zhukova, and I always wanted to visit it. I was not disappointed. A former bus depot, the history and the building itself are as interesting as the exhibits. The structure – I learned – was designed in 1926 to accommodate 104 British buses that had just been purchased. The 8,500-square-meter building was planned so that the buses could enter on one end and exit at the other, without having to reverse. In disuse and on sale, it was acquired by then 27-year old Dasha Zhukova, allegedly with the financial help of her boyfriend and oil billionaire Roman Abramovich, and transformed into a hip gallery, its huge spaces ideal for featuring large works of art. When I visited the Garage last week, there were two exhibits on show: “Alternative Fashion before Glossies. 1985-1995″ (open until June 12), featuring photographs of post-perestroika alternative fashion, and “New York Minute” (open until June 5), featuring works by 50 (!) mostly young New York City artists. The latter is absolutely amazing, fun, clever, interactive, and interesting. If you happen to be in Moscow in the next two weeks, you must see it. If not, I’m sure the center will always have worthwhile shows on display, in addition to a great coffee shop and a rich program that includes free kids workshops on weekends, film series, and more. Kudos to Dasha!

The following image was taken on the Belmullet Peninsula, in Co. Mayo, in North-Western Ireland, at the very tip of the world. The area is described as “tír sáile: a land where the salt laden winds from the Atlantic govern all things.” There I learned about “thin places”. The early Celts believed that certain geographical locations carried a very thin divide between past, present, and future. In such places, one could experience – even just for a moment – a more ancient reality within present time. I believe some of the places I visited on Belmullet Peninsula, including the one below, are “thin places”.

by Vivien Gnekow De Bernardi

Preparing our luggage tags for Costa Rica was already orientation. The closest I could get to an address was “30 meters east of Giardino Tropical”. As we landed in Liberia, the low mountains and neat green land plots reminded me of Ireland, but 28°C (82°F) and an open air arrival area with birds building nests in the rafters quickly proclaimed the tropics.

The drive through the Nicoya peninsula to the Pacific coast took about an hour on a paved road, passing mountains with palm trees on top, followed by slightly more than an hour on an unpaved road, winding through jungle with vividly colored flowers, orange, yellow, red, purple, magenta. The small surfer town of Nosara, in the Guanacaste Province, is an explosion of natural beauty. There’s not much to do, but such a panoply of sights and sounds that I felt like some kind of primordial sponge fulfilled by simply absorbing.

On the narrow trail to the beach we listened attentively to rustles and sounds made by unfamiliar birds and animals, until hearing the first soft rush of waves. Then suddenly, spectacularly crashing waves on a dark sand beach took our breath away, as what seemed like half the village of Nosara gathered to watch the sun set. Every evening a different performance as clouds or clear sky determined the fiery scenario and everyone hoped to see the famous flash of green light as the sun’s rim sank out of view, darkness only ten minutes behind.

Early morning we’d wake to the growling roars of howler monkeys and sometimes be outside in time to see whole families swinging through the trees, munching the tender top leaves. Then we were off for a long but easy walk on the flat pristine beach, passing only a half dozen people or being passed by someone on horseback. Now I know where they film the travel commercials.

The town is small with a surfing school and, surprisingly, two yoga institutes, locally made jewelry and crafts, and a plethora of good open air restaurants with beautiful ceilings made from the hard wood of the guanacaste tree. The food is simple, fresh, and delicious: fruit smoothies and shade-grown coffee to accompany a hearty surfer breakfast or gallo pinto, the tasty local stir fry of rice and beans. We’d check email at the café and perhaps get distracted by an iguana climbing a nearby tree, or the singing of a magnificently crested multi-colored bird. Afternoons are warm, inviting naps rather than lunch, and in the evenings we’d have salad, fresh fish or free-range chicken with plantains or pasta. The local Ticos are friendly and gracious and don’t like confrontation or anger. I was startled at first but then enjoyed being called “mi amor” by the server.

Costa Rica is an unarmed democracy, the only Central American country that has never been ravaged by war. There’s very little violence or abject poverty, although we were warned about stealing. With strong governmental support for education, 98% literacy, and a university, Costa Rica’s four million citizens have the highest standard of living in Central America. There’s an excellent health care system available to all of its citizens. The Hospital Nacional de Niños (National Children’s Hospital), supported by Costa Rica’s only amusement park and an annual telethon, is one of the most specialized medical centers in Latin America, freely treating more than 320,000 children a year without regard to immigration status. Above all, Costa Rica is a nature lover’s paradise. At one point it had lost almost 80% of its rainforest, when the government stepped in and, with the help of U.S.-sponsored debt forgiveness, reforested more than 50%.

In 2008, Costa Rica was ranked as one of the top five nations in the world for environmental conservation. As a bridge between north and south in the Americas, where the animal species from two continents mingled, Costa Rica has the highest density in the world of wildlife species per 10,000 sq. km. One evening we were entranced watching what someone called “a grasshopper on steroids”, perhaps 12 cm (4.7 inches) long, as it explored the condo garden.

The next day, driving again on an unpaved road, we passed a young man dipping his bucket into a barrel of molasses, which he then tossed onto the ground to cut down on dust in front of a popular restaurant. We forged three rivers to reach the turtle refuge at Ostional Beach. Baby turtles were breaking out of their eggs to begin the dangerous trek towards the sea, with flocks of vultures waiting to attack. The baby turtles have to struggle on their own in order to develop their lung power and the dozen or so onlookers tried to ward off the birds. It was so touching to watch these small creatures launch themselves into the immense ocean! Towards evening we had the incredible good fortune of seeing a 50kg (110 lbs) female Olive Ridley turtle struggle up above the shore line and proceed to dig a huge hole, frequently stopping to catch her breath, before depositing more than 100 eggs. It’s not by chance that when the Ticos want to use the superlative to say something is wonderful, they say “pura vida”. Pure life, Costa Rica, mi amor!

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Vivien Gnekow De Bernardi is an American married to a Swiss, who lives in Ticino. She worked as a Special Ed teacher for 30 years and now gives her attention to her twin passions of reading and writing (when she’s not travelling!)

On the G and 7 subway lines, Gantry Plaza State Park, in Long Island City, Queens, right on the waterfront, is a former industrial space made into a burgeoning public park with great views of Manhattan. Here are some photographs by Rachael McCurdy.

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Rachael McCurdy was born in Marietta, Ohio, in 1976. She currently lives in Sunset Park, Brooklyn, and works as a social worker. She is surely already planning her next trip, which will involve some delicious street food.

As the end of the year approaches, the “Top of 2010″ lists proliferate. I will compile some of my own this year: The top 10 places I visited in 2010; The best surprises of 2010; The top 10 books I read this year; Best achievements of the year. But for the purpose of this blog, following are some more renowned lists, featuring the best & worst of the year and the decade–because lets not forget, we are at the end of a decade.

Music

Top 50 songs of 2010 – Rolling Stone
The 30 best albums of 2010 – Rolling Stone
The best music of 2010 – A.V. Club
The top 10 jazz albums of 2010 – NPR

Books

The 10 Best Books of 2010 – The New York Times
The best books of 2010 – The Economist
The best books of the year – The Guardian
I libri più belli del 2010 – La Repubblica (italiano)

Movies

The best films of the ’00s – A.V. Club
The 10 worst movies of 2010 – Rolling Stone

Travel

The best travel books of 2010 – WorldHum
The 2010 best travel apps for the iPhone – TNW
The 2010 dirtiest hotels – Tripadvisor

And for those already looking ahead, here are some of the top destinations for 2011:

Top 10 places to visit in 2011 – Rough Guide
Top 10 countries for 2011 – Lonely Planet
Top 10 backpacking travel destinations for 2011 – Off Track Planet

Remo, 32 anni, insegnante e gestore di progetti informatici nel locarnese, e Esther, 29 anni, studente di lettere a Ginevra, si sono incontrati oggi per la prima volta. Eppure Esther passerà la notte sul divano di Remo, senza dovergli nulla in cambio. Entrambi sono couch surfer, cioè appartengono a una comunità internazionale con più di un millione di membri il cui scopo è offrire un network di posti-letto gratuiti (un divano o una camera) in cambio di una birra, la spesa per la colazione, oppure un semplice scambio d’amicizia. Il tutto tramite un sito internet che permette sia all’ospite sia al padrone di casa di lasciare feedback sull’esperienza passata. “Il sistema – spiega Remo – è semplice. Chiunque può iscriversi e diventare utente. Chi desidera, può fare una donazione di $10 tramite carta di credito. La donazione costituisce una sicurezza in più poiché permette di verificare l’esistenza e il domicilio della persona, diventando quindi verified user e acquistando così anche il diritto di dare un voto alla persona che ti ha ospitato o che hai ospitato. Un ulteriore sistema di controllo è quello dell’esperienza diretta: se conosci una persona perché vivi nella stessa zona o perché ti hanno ospitato, puoi dare loro un voucher. Quando ricevi tre voucher, diventi un vouched user e hai a tua volta la possibilità di garantire per gli altri.”

Non sembra evidente lasciar entrare un estraneo nella propria intimità, eppure sia Remo sia Esther hanno avuto esperienze sempre positive. Ester è alla sua seconda esperienza come ospite e voleva passare un weekend diverso e conoscere il sud delle alpi, così ha scritto a Remo tramite www.couchsurfing.org. Remo è un membro molto attivo: in due anni è stato ospitato a Zurigo, Ginevra e New Dehli; ha conosciuto altri couch surfer in Gahna e in Cina (senza però stare da loro); e ha ospitato couch surfer da tutto il mondo, fra cui Argentina, Nuova Zelanda, Stati Uniti, Lituania e Svizzera interna. “Una volta ho perfino ospitato una ragazza di Mendrisio che era venuta a Locarno per una festa – spiega Remo. – Un’altra volta, invece, sono stato contattato da una docente di Berna che era in Ticino con la sua classe, così ho passato il pomeriggio a mostrargli il castello, spiegar loro le origini del Delta, perché qua si parla italiano, eccetera.”

“Una delle esperienze più belle – racconta Remo – l’ho fatta ospitando tre mormoni americani. La prima cosa che ho fatto quando sono arrivati era offrir loro qualcosa da bere e quando mi hanno detto che non bevevano alcol per una questione di religione ci sono rimasto malissimo. Eppure erano dei pazzi e ci siamo divertiti molto assieme quella sera. Il giorno dopo sono andati a fare bungee jumping in Val Verzasca, ma quando domenica ho proposto loro una gita in montagna, mi hanno detto che avevano altri piani: sarebbero andati fino a Chiasso, dove avevano trovato una chiesa mormona che celebrava la messa quella mattina.” Anche Esther si è sempre trovata bene, sia come ospite sia come ospitante: “Abbiamo sempre parlato bene, mangiato bene e scambiato molte esperienze. Una volta stavo ospitando un ragazzo di Soletta ed è venuto con me a comprare una macchina fotografica per un viaggio che stavo per fare. Per ringraziarmi dell’ospitalità mi ha comprato la custodia. Il suo gesto che mi ha toccato molto perché assolutamente non mi doveva nulla. Quando sono andata a trovarlo a Soletta, mi ha mostrato la sua città dedicandomi un’intera giornata. Ha messo la sua vita a mia disposizione! Si parla sempre di accoglienza e apertura verso gli altri, ma quando si tratta di aprire la porta a uno sconosciuto non è così evidente. Bisogna confrontarsi con i propri preconcetti e si scroprono molte cose anche su se stessi.”

Remo di esperienze negative non ha mai avute, ma forse quella che l’ha meno soddisfatto è stato quando ha ospitato due ragazze che erano venute per il Festival del Film e cercavano solamente un posto dove dormire, senza dimostrare quello spirito di scambio che è l’anima del couch surfing. Ed è proprio questo scambio umano gratuito e spontaneo l’aspetto che sembra più arricchire i couch surfer, oltre al vantaggio economico.

A livello di statistiche, la percentuale più alta di couch surfer ha fra i 18 e i 34 anni e vive in Europa. In Ticino ci sono circa 120 couch surfer, di cui una decina nel locarnese.

For all of you book lovers who may have an e-book reader but are still intoxicated by the smell and feel of old books, here is an interesting article from Publishing Perspectives about the bouquinistes, the antique and used books resellers that you find near Pont Neuf in Paris, who recently started selling souvenirs (this seems to be what the market demands) but are getting in trouble for that.

Read the article here.

In a recent trip to New York, I had lots of fun exploring something *NEW* that wasn’t there three years ago. Such place is The High Line, old elevated train tracks on Manhattan’s West Side, recently turned into a park. The place gives you an amazingly different view of Manhattan and its eclectic architecture, mixing old and new, and it is also itself a place of art & design.

The history of the tracks themselves is fascinating: the High Line was originally constructed in the 1930s to lift dangerous freight trains off Manhattan’s streets—apparently there were so many fatalities that the area was nicknamed “Death Avenue”. The tracks were in use until 1980, when the last train ran carrying a trainload of frozen turkeys (I just had to add that!). Check out the official website for historical pictures (and make sure you start from the end).

The High Line is one mile and a half long and runs from Gansevoort St. in the Meatpacking District to 34th St., between 10th & 11th Ave. Currently, only the first section is open to the public, running from Gansevoort St., right behind Chelsea Market (one of my favorite places in the City!) to 20th St., close to the art galleries part of Chelsea. Section 2, from 20th St. to 30th St., is scheduled to open in 2011.

The architectural concept behind the park is that of “integrated landscape”, combining concrete pathways and steel tracks & railings with native flowers, grass, and shrubs. The park also displays temporary artwork that is somehow connected to the site.

Click here for a detailed map.

From: Edmund White’s Our Paris: Sketches from Memory (HarperCollins, 2004)

“Unlike American cities, which change completely right under our eyes and go through two or three total transformations in the course of a lifetime, the great European cities look the same as they did in photos taken a hundred years ago. Maybe the benches and kiosks are of a new design–or have been newly designed to resemble an earlier look–and maybe gas lamps are now electrified, but the layout of the squares and the appearance of the statues and fountains and places are eternal. [...]
Paris is, of course, in constant flux. Before 1850 it was a smelly, cramped, chaotic, medieval collection of villages; after 1870 and the changes wrought by Napoleon III and his master builder, the Baron Haussmann, it was a modern city. Everything in Paris–from the twelve avenues radiating out from the Arc de Triomphe to the graceful layout of the new Bois de Boulogne with its two artificial lakes, from the innovative design of the glass and metal stalls of the food markets at Les Halles to the botched transformation of the Ile de la Cité from a dangerous but picturesquae medieval slum to an arid administrative center–everything was thought out and calculated down to the tiniest detail by the tall Alsatian workaholic, Haussmann, the Prefect of the Seine.
In the years I lived in Paris President Mitterand, infected with the true French folie de grandeur, had also rebuilt Paris, starting with its most important axis. He’d placed I. M. Pei’s glass pyramid in the courtyard of the Louvre and, on the other end of the axis, beyond the prancing horses of Marly on the Place de la Concorte and beyond the Arc de Triomphe, he’d erected a brand new arch–a massive square in stone that crowns the city of modern offices, the Champs-Elysées was widened and outfitted with new “park furniture,” old neon was stripped away, even the pavings were replaced.
In spite of all these changes, the city with its awnings and cafés, its broad avenues and plane trees, its uniform facades of apartment buildings and its great monuments [...] all remain the same. This enduring look of Paris makes the changes in the lives of its citizens all the more poignant–the births and deaths, the illnesses and sudden removals.”