Northwest Folklife 2011, Part 2

Let me tell you about the music, specifically, at Northwest Folklife. They had everything from polished bands on the stage, to little kids with a hat out on the sidewalk, singing their hearts out or playing tiny cellos and violins, to hick country folk bands made up of grubby-looking folk with a puppy in the guitar case, to one-man-bands.  The guy above was one of the latter, with wings attached to his rig.

In addition to his violin, he had a coconut-clapper, a tambourine, a cymbal, and all of those attached via leashes to his ankles so that each step would activate his percussion as he danced an played. Ingenious!

I enjoyed this Native American group who were playing drums and chanting for their dancer. It was beautiful.

We were just positioned to watch a group of jugglers at a performing patio when we heard, behind us, a marimba group start up. I had never heard marimbas that deep and resonant before, and the beat drew us like a siren.

It was a group of student players from about middle school through high school age, called Nya Muziwa, and their music (Zimbabwean) was energetic and almost hypnotic.  Here's a clip (all my clips are too short, as my camera doesn't have enough memory for big files, plus they take too long to upload):

The nice thing about the music at Folklife is that people move.  Everyone. Toes are tapping, people swaying, kids hopping. It doesn't matter what age you are.

This lady was twirling and swaying, lovely in her colorful outfit and peaceful of face. You watch a person like this and kind of hope you'll be a little bit like that when you're her age. I would love to hear the story of her life. You can see her on the left-hand side of this short clip of the group she was listening to, singing "Love, love, love, Chicky Love":

One thing we saw a lot of was accordions. Are they coming into vogue? I commented to my sister-in-law that it might be time for me to pull out our father-in-law's accordion from under the piano and warm it up! (Thank you, Daddy, for the accordion you gave me way back when. Maybe that will still pay off.)

Another instrument we saw a lot of was washboards. And the players were expert, playing them with a metal finger-protectors and a fork or spoon.

Then there were the washtub string bass players. The amazing thing was that these were all being played by young people. Apparently there are plenty of young people around Seattle who are not focused on developing the next heavy metal garage band--unless you count a washtub as heavy metal!

This chap was playing his jug. I couldn't see just what the jug had been used to hold, but it sounded great in the band.

Even the facial hair and expressions went with what I might expect with a hillbilly band, my experiences with hillbillies being sadly limited to TV depictions, you understand.

Except that for hilbillies, the face piercings, hair colors and clothes were sometimes a bit surprising.

Is it just me, or is this guy's nose a little bit difficult to look at?

Oh, and there were a number of guys in skirts at Folklife.  Most of them were kilts down to the knee, but the one in this picture went with the longer version. Being rather fond of skirts myself, I can understand why they would enjoy them.

Finally, this one-man-band playing his digeridoo and his tin pans was intriguing.  I'll leave you with a little clip of his music:

Northwest Folklife 2011, Part 1

This weekend I traveled to Seattle to give out university scholarships at a high school graduation. It was perfect timing, as Seattle was celebrating their annual Northwest Folklife event.

According to the event's website, "Northwest Folklife creates opportunities for individuals and communities of the Pacific Northwest to celebrate, share and sustain the vitality of folk, ethnic and traditional arts for present and future generations." It is indeed an event that draws thousands of people of all ages for good food, good folk music, good arts, and good street performances.

Here, for example, is how the group pictured above sounds:

Folklife takes place in the Seattle Center area, in the shadow of the Space Needle, the most recognizable landmark of the area. The Needle was, by the way, designed by an alumnus of our university's School of Engineering. Yep, we're mighty proud of him.

Another well-loved centerpiece of the area is the International Fountain, set in a big bowl in the hillside. It's so fun to watch the kids (and wannabe kids) running in and out of the water. All around the circumference of this huge square were craft booths, food booths and street performers.

It was crowded at the festival, as you can see, looking down just one of the pedestrian streets. There's a fun atmosphere in the air, with everyone enjoying the variety of delights to the senses.

This guy was amazing, painting the simple mehndi flawlessly, freehand, onto his young customer's hand.

The broom maker in his boiled felt hat was a jolly fellow. I wondered how well his brooms work, but wasn't inclined to purchase one to find out!

My sister-in-law, who came along with me, spotted this rather attractive hat. We took a photo to share with my nephew, who is given to wearing cool and unusual garb when he performs with his band. He declared it "steampunk," which I'd never heard of before, and said he'd never wear anything like that. They're trying hard to be different, he said.

Me? I still thought it an attractive hat.

There were plenty of leather workers at the fair selling all kinds of creative hats and sandals and boots. The strappy leather sandals (like "Jesus sandals") caught my eye, but they were far too expensive for my pocketbook. Not complaining, you understand. I would probably charge similar prices if I had made such fine sandals.

A face painter was hard at work in about every block, as evidenced by all the decorated faces we saw around us. Watching this painter work, I was struck by how adroitly she mixed the colors right on her palette so that when she put the brush strokes on her pretty client's face, they came out with the stripes and shading already in them!

There was a Bulgarian beer drinkers' group there, enjoying the oom-pah of a little brass group. I thought they looked festive as well as classic.

Less classic was this young fair-goer who crossed our path several times in her dolly outfit with the pink platform boots and striking strawberry patch hair. I thought she looked like a lot of fun.

In fact there were a lot of people there who looked like a lot of fun, with piercings, tattoos, dreadlocks, and all manner of unusual garb. I wanted to get acquainted with them; our little town offers no such thing as this diversity, and I feel a bit impoverished, considering that.

This guy had to be a lot of fun for the kids.  I was particularly enchanted by his palm tree.  I wonder what a guy like this does for his day job?  It wouldn't surprise me a bit if it turned out he's an engineer for Boeing.

(to be continued)

Alley Iris

The other morning I went for a walk, returning via an alley that leads to our street. Why the alley? Well, one reason is that the backs of houses are kind of a friendly place, where the personalities show up more. But the other reason is that there are a lot of irises planted along one house's back fence, and they are in full bloom.

I first remember encountering real irises when I was 19 years old, in the first springtime I had ever experienced in my life. Walking around my college town, it was amazing to see these gorgeous big flowers in all hues and designs, perfuming the air.

The name "iris" comes from the Greek word for "rainbow," which makes sense, as there are around 300 kinds of irises, of every color, so I have read. Apparently irises are found in both perfumes and medicines, as well as being used for aromatherapy. And the rhizomes are given to babies as something to gnaw on, to help them get through teething. (Do not try this unless under medical supervision.)

One type of iris, Wikipedia notes, is effective against lymph sarcoma and some other kinds of cancers.

I have long been fond of the irises in Vincent van Gogh's paintings.  It was a bit surprised when I found out, after seeing one of his originals in California, and then spotting another in Paris, that he painted many versions of his irises.  It does seem odd to see them flourishing on umbrellas and bookbags.

Another piece of trivia about irises: they are the basis for the fleur-de-lis on various things French. Additionally, they are the state flower of Tennessee.

I really should get around to planting some irises in our own yard.  In the meantime, the irises in the alley and the blue and purple irises planted by our neighbors along our shared property line will do the trick.

A Cameo Appearance, Part 2

The mansion sits on a hill overlooking a curved, fairly narrow valley as the road approaches the bend where the Columbia River flows into the first part of the Gorge. You can't see the Columbia River from the bed and breakfast, but you can see the Walla Walla River flowing lazily through the valley, the riparian zone protected on either side of it.

The mansion was built as a home for a family with seven children, but things got hung up along the way, and the shell of it sat unfinished for about ten years. Finally, the owners got things squared away and pursued their dream of making it into a bed and breakfast. It's surrounded by orchards of 175,000 trees, all planted and the irrigation installed by the innkeepers, who were alfalfa farmers in a past life. They have now sold the orchards off, preferring to stick to one job.

One of the very first things I did, upon arriving and settling in, was to head for the poolside, where I settled into a deck chair (while Husband took a nap) and read for awhile, peering across my feet at the waterfall.  It was so peaceful and warm and relaxing out there, I could have stayed right there for days!

Above the pool, built into the hillside, was a jacuzzi. You just don't have time to try out everything if you're at the mansion for only one day, so we didn't get to test the jacuzzi out. Several other couples came emerged to enjoy the poolside ambiance, and they seemed to share the happy, quiet atmosphere of the place.

Across the valley, over the top of the apple orchard, we could see the farm with the red barn, a bit of the river, and the highway snaking by as it comes off Nine Mile Hill.

After our filling supper, Husband and I decided an evening walk was in order. We noticed that the orchard was on the waning side of apple blossom time, but there were still a few hardy souls hanging in there.

The skies at the mansion are typical for eastern Washington: always changing, with the light and clouds playing hide-and-seek through the afternoon and evening. It may not be Montana, but it's still big sky country!

We climbed the hill through the orchards, looking for a view of the Columbia River, but only caught a little glimpse of it. So we walked "through the gloaming" back to the mansion, which was now lit up to greet the evening.

Here you can see the suites from the back of the mansion, two on each level and one up under the eaves. Ours was on the bottom right, under the kitchen. The noise of cooking and washing up was clearly audible, but not particularly bothersome to us.

The next morning after breakfast, Husband and I took off for a hike before driving home.  We walked through apple orchards, and uphill through vineyards ...

...through the typical drylands of the eastern side of this state, with its red and green and gold grasses, and down again past a cherry orchard ...

...passing a congregation of smudge pots, now quiet in the warming air of spring.

We made only a cameo appearance at the B&B, essentially. Just one day. I'm glad we went.

A Cameo Appearance, Part 1

A few weeks ago, we were feeling in need of a getaway. I had heard about and met the innkeepers of a bed and breakfast about 25 minutes' drive from home. It's a huge mansion on a hill overlooking a valley through which we drive on the way to the Big City. We'd almost made reservations once, and then backed off because of the price. But this time Husband suggested we take the plunge and go experience the place.

The B&B has seven suites, each decorated according to a regional theme: French, German, Greek, Spanish, and so on. After quite some deliberation on my part--Husband didn't care which one we stayed in--we reserved the Greek suite.

An aubergine color with crisp white trim, the suite was lovely. Its french doors opened out to the patio around the pool, into which a waterfall spilled over massive volcanic boulders. A tour of the room showed that the innkeepers had thought of every detail, from a set of steps to help us climb up onto the high carved canopied bed, to the soaps made right there at the B&B, to the inviting whirlpool bath.  (I don't want to break the spell here, but I should probably mention that the whirlpool engine was so enthusiastic, there was water all over the marble floor when we were done sitting in the bath.)

The tough thing for me was that it was so lovely inside, but also so lovely outside. How do you decide what to do? How do you choose a place to hang out in a limited amount of time? It would have been much easier if it had been rotten weather outdoors, and we could've sat in our wingback chairs and watched one of the many videos (none rated worse than PG) from the mansion's video library.

Or we could've left our suite and sat in the huge leather armchairs of the in-home theater, watching the video on the huge screen with surround sound. Or we could've played chess by the spiral staircase leading up to the chef's dining room. Or played the piano. Or made popcorn. Or listened to music and taken a nap. And so on.

As I said, every detail was thought of for our comfort.  There were truffles under the dome of the cheese dish on the bedside table.

The toilet paper was pleated and folded with the mansion insignia on the sticker holding it in place. And yes, it was indeed the softest of toilet paper available! And the shower--a lovely marble-lined shower with a rain shower. Luxurious!

Meals at the mansion are significant events. We sat at a table by a window overlooking the valley, just off the kitchen. I could watch Chef Penny working in her kitchen. Her salads were scrumptious! Being teetotalers, I got a bottle of lovely Washington apple cider to go with my meal. It wasn't as fizzy as Martinelli's, and it was sweet and delicious.

My entree was a vegetarian-style pasta with all manner of vegetables and feta cheese.

Husband had rice with a vegetable topping that included asparagus, which is just starting into harvest in these parts, and chunky mashed potatoes. Once you count in the delicious fresh, warm artisan bread and dipping oil, we were so full that dessert was an impossibility.

The next morning the innkeepers dropped off fresh coffee and Danishes straight out of the oven on a tray at our bedroom door. An hour later, breakfast was served upstairs, beginning with a fruit-and-nut cup and fresh squeezed orange juice.

Following that opening salvo, along came the quiche with sausages, vegetarian for us.  I think I've never had a more delicious vegetable quiche in my life, flavored wonderfully in a cornmeal crust and topped with tomato and fresh basil.

So now you've seen the inside. My next post will take you along with us to see the rest of the story...outside the mansion!