Dog Poop Detail

Since back in the the US for two weeks now, I have been having many interesting conversations with people about the "differences in the details" of things between Europe and America, hence my impetus to initiate these blogs in the first place.

Today, while sitting outside at a coffeehouse having coffee with a friend from Santa Fe, one of those details came to light, albeit one that makes Americans more uncomfortable than many Europeans I have spoken with.

There were two policeman walking down Ft. Marcy street who happened upon a dog that was leased to one of the poles supports of the Santa Fean adobe portici that shelter the sidewalks from the elements, much like in Bologna, which is actually famous for its endless portici, but that is another story and another blog... Regardless, there was a dog tied up to the post. The policemen were asking everyone whose dog it was. Everyone assured them that the owner had literally just popped into the restroom and would be back soon.

The policemen were rather unmoved by such appeals, and waited it out for a couple of minutes, mildly scolding the woman who had left the dog tied up unattended. She seemed slightly put out, but went on her way.

My friend remarked that it is funny how laid back the Santa Fe police are for the most part, but often will choose a detail such as this to "make a statement" of sorts.

I then related a serious problem that had plagued northern Europe, and particularly Belgium, during vacation time in years past, namely, the abandonment of family pets by the side of the highway, chained up to literally die while the family heads south to escape to the sun in France or Spain for a couple of weeks of getting lobster-toned to insure a "good" vacation.

This practice escalated to such a level that a national campaign and hefty fines were levied on offenders, and apparently, it worked. I have not heard about this for a few years, but I also noticed something else, less people have dogs now in Belgium. I don't know if there is a connection, but I specifically remember many, many more dogs in the 1990's in Belgium, and specifically Antwerp, mainly because of the dog poop on the sidewalk. Cheech and Chong did a skit about dog poop on the sidewalks of Amsterdam many years ago, but it could have easily been "still smokin'" in Antwerp as well.

But, again, a major clean-up campaign, and fines and, well, less dogs. I have wondered if the fines and campaigns are directly responsible. What I find interesting about that though, is that it seems to be more effective to fine people than to appeal to a sense of ethics, but hopefully I am wrong about that, though, I wonder.

A Perfect World?

OK, here it goes.

I know that making a statement is rather a bold and foolish thing to do these days because we seem to not be able to make "statements" any longer as that means that we actually have something to say and feel that it might actually be right, God forbid. At the pool today, I heard someone in the locker room (after he took a gander at my plastic, Del Haize shopping bag ) say, in all seriousness, with no irony, "Now, of course, I don't want to make a statement, that's for sure."

So, deep breath. Count to three.

Here goes.

"A Perfect World," directed by Clint Eastwood in 1993 is Kevin Costner's best and most unsung role. There I said it. Hand me a tissue Tito...

Sandwiched in between the two major hits, "Unforgiven" and "The Bridges of Madison County," this odd tale got lost. In it, Costner is Robert "Butch" Haynes, a low-level criminal who takes a young boy hostage and drives across Texas, being pursued by Eastwood as the Sheriff, Red Garnett. During the course of the movie something odd happens--NOTHING, and that is what makes it so brilliant.

Costner pulls off a masterful role of not really doing anything, and I am dead serious about my praise in this. This is the crepuscular time of Costner's presence in movies being anything but doing anything but nothing.

Road trips are an American thing. Road trips across the West, that is. Getting in a car and driving from A to B is not a road trip. Going on vacation on a busy highway is not a road trip.

Driving across the vistas of the American West, where NOTHING happens is a road trip because it is a time to reflect, to meditate, to listen to Cat Stevens, buy horrible gas station coffee, stop at a Stuckey's, read the billboards for Flying C Ranch and Cline's Corners, look at the sky, play "I Spy" with your five-year old, but essentially doing no-thing.

The last time I was in Santa Fe, I went to a lecture on Liebniz at St. John's College on the outskirts of town. I had always had a passing interest in Liebniz, especially with his connection to the dispute over the invention of the Calculus against Sir Isaac Newton. However, it was through teaching Candide at the Antwerp International School that I had come to know about the concept of Liebniz's "Best of All Possible Worlds." Some years back, we went to see the opera, Candide, nearly on a lark of just happen to have had season tickets to the Austin Opera, but it was excellent. I was stunned that you could make an incredible boring book into such a great opera. And, despite the message, Voltaire's book is a snoozer.

I have tried to make a conversion in my vocabulary of "best of all possible worlds" from "perfect" because the latter seems to get me in quite a stew, while I actually mean the former. For me, they are the same. Per-fect, coming from the Latin, is to be be made through and through. Nearly identical is the concept of Sam-skrita, which means, made, or put together and was applied to the language because it was considered "perfect," which it is anything but. Sanskrit is a hybrid of Indo-European and Dravidian and has many irregularities, but is it less than perfect then?

Perfect does not mean without faults or flaws in my mind, but rather, like Liebniz, it is the best of all possible worlds. Ultimately, this will be the kicker in the Republic when Socrates is asked if he believes in the "perfect" city. (Answer to that question is coming soon to a blog near you).

Americans seem to get hung up on that word, perfect. I know that I have, and I have made it one of my demons to be exorcised, making Liebniz more and more my guide.

I do believe that life is but a calculus, leading ever closer to what we wish to accomplish, or become, but at each increment, each integrated integral becomes smaller and smaller, much like Cantor's dust between the cracks. Yet, at every stage, our integrity can become sharper, more focused, more perfect, with faults, flaws, and all.

City Different

When people grow up in the Southwest part of the United States, nearly without fail, when asked about what they miss most when away from this region of the country, the answer is: the sky.

I have made the drive from the Northern Texas Panhandle to Northern New Mexico nearly 100 times in my life, and I don't think that I will ever get tired of that journey. Moving westward from the Texas High Plains to the escarpment outside of Tucumcari that opens up to the Sandia range of the Rocky Mountains, I know that a part of me is coming home.

I was born in Albuquerque when the population was under 100,000, and now it sprawls well over 1 million, being one of the fastest growing cities in the United States for the past decade. I don't really know Albuquerque that well, though it was my place of birth.

I have often said that a part of me never left New Mexico. In thinking about that once again being here, it is hard to explain that without sounds too New Age or as my Yoga teacher, Bekir , would say, "woo-woo." So, with that disclaimer, I do feel that a part of my soul will always be in this part of the country, no matter where I am living. It is a recharge of my soul on many levels when I come here, and it is difficult to put into words.

Santa Fe, where we are currently staying, is a unique town in the States. For Europeans, it is something akin to going to a small medieval town for Americans abroad in Europe. The oldest established European-settled town, dating from the 16th Century. Close by is Bandelier (whose surrounding park was badly burned recently in a spate of forest fires), which is the ruins of the ancient pueblo of the indigenous Anasazi Native Americans dating several centuries prior.

Santa Fe is also one of the few Western towns that still retains a remnant of what most European cities would not be without--a plaza, or square. From the Grand Place in Brussels, the Grote Markt in Antwerp, or San Marco in Venice, nearly all European cities have at least one destination local of a square of some sort.

The Plaza in Santa Fe pales in comparison to these European counterparts in scope, but serves the same purpose, to meet in person and to celebrate the city as a living entity. Although many criticize the commercialized aspect of Santa Fe's art scene and the marginalizing of the Native Americans in the town, it is hard to overlook the fact that the Plaza does in fact bring people out of their cars and actually stroll at night from shops to galleries to restaurants, or just to head to the Plaza. 

Last evening after recharging my taste buds with New Mexican spices, we went by the Plaza and it was a beautiful scene. There are many large flower baskets with cascading pansies of earth toned-hues and lights strung from the light posts. It is what I miss most in a city when I am in the states as plazas, piazze, markts, and places are what make Europe so appealing to me.

At the Northeast end of the plaza, the City Different (Santa Fe's soubriquet) dead ends into the St. Francis Church, another exception to many American cities that is omnipresent in European urban centers. The Cathedral in Antwerp is one of the most imposing and impressive Cathedrals in Europe and forms one of the vistas of the city from many angles. At some level, the Cathedral is always in your mind, whether as an architectural wonder or as, less often in the modern times, a church.

St. Francis statues dot the urban-scape of Santa Fe and one is constantly reminded of the presence of the Church when in the city center.

This is just one of the things that makes this part of the country different.

However, it is still the sky that is an awesome sight. Whether it is sunny, partly cloudy, or a full-on summer monsoon rolling in with giant thunderheads, the sky never ceases to enchant here. At night, the sunsets are nothing short of a communion of the earth with the sky. When the stars are out, one can truly comprehend the fact that there are indeed billions and billions of them out there.

Perhaps one of the greatest memories that I have of the sky here was on a Christmas Eve, standing in the Plaza with no sound of traffic, Christmas lights dangling silently in the night and a snowfall came down with flakes the size of crystallized postage stamps. A memory I will never forget in the City Different and one that I keep in the watch pocket of my soul's waistcoat, keeping it there to remind me of New Mexico.