The Châteaux of Loire Valley

In an attempt to organize my adventures in Tours, this is the 3rd of 4 posts about the city, and it features three of the châteaux in the Loire Valley. There are so many châteaux that there are top ten best châteaux near Tours listicles. Tragically, most of them are not especially convenient to public transit as they were all originally designed to be exclusive country estates. Happily, my school arranged some field trips.

One thing I’m learning while doing follow up research on my visits is that many of these historical sites now have extremely thorough virtual tours with professionally taken photographs where each plant is in peak season and the weather is ideal. There is no way that my photos can objectively compare, and while I may treasure my own photos more than those on a website because they come to me with the memory of me physically being there, I can’t actually think of a reason for any reader to prefer my photos to those professionally taken at the site. My story may be unique because I will not simply tell you the history of a place, but rather my experience of being there and learning that history, but unlike many places I’ve been where I can find little if any information, or even in contrast to when I first came to France in 2015, the museums and historical monuments in France are extremely well documented. 

So, if you’re here and you want to read about my personal experience with these places, then thank you, but also, if you want to know more or see the locations at their absolute best, then I recommend the virtual tours (links below).

Château de Villandry (virtual tour link)

My school host and ersatz guide advised us that the interior of the château is nothing special, and we all agreed we would focus our trip on the gardens. To begin, we actually went up inside the château to climb a creaky staircase to the upper wall and get our first panoramic view of the gardens below. I was quite grateful for this since the website features some very stunning drone photos of the grounds which are planted in elaborate patterns best observed from above.

My guide explained briefly about the history of the design of the gardens below (and since he’s also the of our French language school, he did it in French (albeit very simple French) to help us learn. I double checked my understanding by taking photos of the informative signs and reading the website, but I actually caught most of it. Yay, learning!

Villandry traces it’s origins to the 11th century Colombiers Fortress, but the modern edifice and grounds bears little resemblance to it’s ancestral lineage. The current château is of Renaissance architecture, which means around the mid 1500s. It looks like the first major attempt at decorative gardening was in the 1750s. At that time it was done in the style of a French garden. Then in the 1840s it was changed to the style of an English park. All this time, the property keeps changing hands as well. In December of 1906, a rich American heiress bought the property for her husband, Joachim Carvallo who is responsible for the current structure of the gardens. Later additions were made by their children, and finally the sun garden was added last in 2008.

The gardens are immense. The first division splits the area into three sections: the Kitchen Garden, the Water Garden and the Ornamental Garden. The main view from above and the most striking panoramic view is of the Ornamental Garden. The Love Garden represents 4 types of love: Tender Love: hearts separated by flames of love in the corners of the square with masquerade masks in the center. Passionate Love: broken hearts and a tangled maze. Flighty Love: four fans in the corners for fickleness, horns representing betrayed love, love letters. Tragic Love: blades of daggers and swords used in duels between those fighting over a shared love. To the left is the Garden of Crosses with Maltese Cross, the Cross of Languedoc, and the Basque Cross along with highly stylized fleur-de-lis.

I was quite captivated by this entire notion as it was explained to me, and it made me think of the sort of Regency Era period dramas that show high society engaging in all manner of romantic hijinks. I’ve read histories about the way that fans were used to flirt, about the affairs at court, and about the duels. Then I found out the garden was not installed like this until the early 1900s and I realized that rather than a representation of courtly romantic drama by those who lived it, it was a recreation by a historical fan from a later era. I don’t think that makes the gardens less beautiful in any way, but it is interesting to think of the layers of history that go into famous monuments and tourist attractions. Villandry as a property certainly predated, hosted and then survived after the period of courtly intrigue that dominated the century between 1750-1850, yet the current historical restoration and preservations were not replicas of anything that existed at that time, instead created as tributes or memorials.

We moved rather quickly through the so called Water Garden, as it’s main feature is a reflecting pool. The next area we entered on our way was full of flowers hued in shades of purple, blue, and white. When I caught up with my group in the next area, one staged in shades of red, orange, and yellow, my guide explained that these were the moon and sun gardens respectively. I found the sun garden on the website, but no evidence of the moon garden. It was clearly there, but I can’t find it on the webpage. Instead, there’s a whole other space called the Music Room that I have no memory of seeing, nor any photos of it in my cloud. 

The next main space we walked through was the herbs and medicinal garden, followed by the kitchen gardens. Since it was still early spring, these were a bit sparse, but I was nonetheless enchanted by the geometrical patterns created by the beds for herbs and vegetables. I took a great many photos of the château itself from this angle as well since it looked quite lovely as a backdrop to the gardens. At the time, I felt like we had explored every nook and cranny, but looking a the website afterward I can see there are aspects we did not discover, nor may they have been much worth seeing when not in bloom or harvest.

As with many things here in the Loire Valley, an afternoon at the château gardens isn’t about rushing through to see as many sights as you can; it’s about a stroll through a beautiful environment on a lovely day to enjoy the views and the take the air. Though the courtly days are long gone (and truly, I am grateful to live in modern times), there’s something to be said for “taking a turn around the gardens” as though I were a heroine in a Jane Austen novel. I took many photos of the flowers in bloom, so if you love flowers, check out the slide show below!

Château d’Azay-le-Rideau Castle (the virtual tour link)

While Villandry was all about the gardens, the Château d’Azay has excellent interiors. The grounds are nothing to sneeze at, but they are considerably simpler than the elaborate gardens of Villandry. D’Azay is not quite as old, but has many architectural themes in common since it was also constructed during the renaissance. The French Renaissance King Francis the First established the Loire Valley as his seat of government, and the château was built to honor his reign. The interior was remodeled in the 19th century and eventually acquired by the state in 1905. The walk from the parking lot to the château was through a charming little village.

We started our tour by climbing all the way to the top and getting a view of the architectural engineering from the inside. The roof itself contains 75 tons of slate! A lot of structural work goes into holding up that much weight. The current exhibition is a reconstruction, but it’s done in the same style as the original to preserve the craftsmanship.

As we descended, we entered room after room decorated in the styles of the different eras that the château has existed throughout. The first being the Renaissance room, a faithful replica of the room of the architect’s wife. Although it is fairly simple compared to later rooms, it’s still interesting to see the way people lived. Additionally, at that time, bedrooms were not just for sleeping, but also for socializing and entertaining. Mats made of reeds lined the walls to keep the chill of the stone from overwhelming the room, and there was a small alcove off to one side in which sits a secretary’s desk.

The next room is called Psyche’s Chamber because the ornate tapestries along the walls depict the Greek myth of Psyche which was all the rage at the time. This is followed by the Great Hall. This room was used for hosting feasts and dances, and to be honest, after watching far too many period dramas in film and television, I was surprised at how small it seemed, even when mostly empty.

Following that we crossed through the ante-chamber where visitors wishing to see the King could wait, and the King’s Chamber. A royal suite had to be maintained by pretty much all the nobles since the King could drop by with very little notice and expect to be hosted in style. Apparently Louis XIII stayed there for just two nights in 1619, and yet the room was kept ready for a royal visit at any time.

Jumping starkly forward in time, the next suite of rooms reflect the fashions of the 19th century. The Biencourt Salon was a room for people to relax, talk, and maybe take some light refreshments. The Billiard Room was more of an informal space, featuring a billiard table.

From there we had a peak into the “below stairs” (though not physically below) of the larder and the kitchen. These were quite close to a 19th century style dining room (a contrast to the Great Hall of the Renaissance style). After the dinning room, a final salon-library shows comfortable furniture, musical instruments, and a small collection of books.

A repeating motif in the stonework of the château is the fire-breathing salamander. This was a motif of King Francis I whose motto was “Nutrisco and Extingo” (translated: I feed on the good fire and I extinguish the bad) – a metaphor for pursuing justice and weeding out injustice.

Château du Clos Luce (link)

This was my final excursion in Tours, and I once again went with the language school. Perhaps because of that, we didn’t get to see everything there was to see at this, the final dwelling of Leonardo Da Vinci. The château itself was built in the 1200s, and after a few changes in ownership, it was offered to Leonardo in 1516. Despite his advanced age, he continued to work on projects for the King and to entertain students. He also had a secret tunnel that led to the King’s palace next door which allowed him to meet with fellow artist Domenico da Cortona all the time… in secret… underground… but I’m sure they were just friends.

It’s also interesting to note that when Leonardo finally accepted the King’s invitation to move to France, he brought several of his paintings with him, including the Mona Lisa, which is why that painting resides in the Louvre in Paris rather than in any museum in Italy. The interior of the château is decorated to resemble the time Leonardo lived and died there, and includes replica paintings of the Mona Lisa and The Death of Leonardo da Vinci or Francis I Receives the Last Breaths of Leonardo da Vinci  which depicts the King of France embracing the genius to breathe in the last breath that Leonardo breathes out. It’s worth noting that nothing other than the house itself is likely from the time of Leonardo, and that this is a reproduction for historical and educational purposes, but it’s still interesting to go and see the way that historians think Leonardo was living in the last few years of his life.

The basement of the château is a museum dedicated to the practical and military inventions of da Vinci with small models and detailed explanations of how each worked in theory if not in actual practice.

The grounds outside are beautifully designed to preserve a natural aesthetic with paths and waterworks connecting interactive models of several of da Vinci’s inventions, allowing visitors to see the natural world that inspired him, and to have a hands on experience with his engineering genius. Also, the last photo in the slide show is a breed of rose named “Mona Lisa” which I loved.

When I heard about the variety of château around the Loire Valley, this is the one I wanted to visit most, because I have personally been fascinated with da Vinci since I found out about him as a child. He was so clearly unique, intellectually and socially different from the culture and times that he was born into. As a person who often felt like I didn’t particularly belong, I enjoy seeing others like that in history. Although, over time, I came to understand that the combination of being born male and the patronage system that supported artists allowed people like Leonardo (if anyone can be said to be like Leonardo) to stay economically afloat and pursue their art and invention without the need to worry about where to live or what to eat.

In many ways, he and others like him are nearly mythological, and being able to stand in a room where they slept, or scribbled sketches or ate soup makes them more real, and it’s an experience I am glad to have had before leaving Tours.

The Sights of Tours

Although I only spent 5 weeks in the city of Tours, France, I feel like I managed to squeeze in quite a lot of sightseeing around my French classes and cheese eating. In an attempt to organize my adventures there, this is the 2nd of 4 posts about Tours and it features attractions which are close to the city center, such as museums, gardens and interesting tourist attractions.

Musée Compagnonnage (The Companion Museum)

This was the first museum I visited in Tours because it was right next to my tram stop. I don’t know what I expected from a place called the Companion Museum, but this was not it. The Companionship (Compagnonnage) were any and all artisans and craftsmen who made things with their hands and then passed the knowledge of their crafts through apprenticeships. As you may imagine, that’s most of professions. It’s something between a secret society and a very strong union. In fact, given the amount of masonic imagery, I’m surprised to find that the museum denies any connection beyond the coincidence of the compass and square.

According to their own legends, the Compagnonnage dates back to the construction of the temple in Jerusalem, known as the “Temple of Solomon”, in the 10th century BC. The colossal project, under the direction of the architect Hiram, would have been led by Soubise and Jacques. Different legends also make these last two monastic and chivalrous characters. Salomon, Father Soubise and Maître Jacques are the 3 legendary founders of the Compagnonnage. However, there’s no archaeological evidence of the Compagnonnage until the 13th century. Incidentally, the Free Masons are not found until the 18th century so if they are linked, the French did it first.

The Compagnonnage includes any industry in which people work with their hands directly to produce things. I was going to try to list them, but the museum website takes a whole page to do so. It’s… a lot. Excluded careers were things like merchants, academics, doctors, architects and engineers (presumably the later because they design things rather than build them. Carpenters and stonemasons, people who implemented architectural and engineering designs, were absolutely included in the Compagnonnage.)

You can read more about the historical ups and downs on the museum website (thanks Google Chrome for auto-translate), but it went fairly strong until WW1 dealt it a near fatal blow. It didn’t really recover until after WW2, and it’s worth mentioning that although they claimed to welcome anyone wishing to improve in their profession, they didn’t agree to admit women until 2004(!) and didn’t actually accept one until 2006. Even though many of the trades historically included into the Compagnonnage were industries which had many women workers including sewing, weaving, laundry, and baking, it seems the society was about more than just teaching skills and protecting workers. Quelle surprise! (by the way, all of the art pieces below are sugar and pastry!)

Despite the overwhelming presence of misogyny throughout the history of Western civilization, I still enjoyed seeing the craftworks and tools of the various trades included in the Compagnonnes. I also believe that the centuries-long tradition of protecting the rights and wages of these workers has likely influenced the French cultural value of workers’ rights and collective bargaining. Did you know that striking is protected under their constitution? That not only can they not lose their jobs for striking, their employers must continue to pay them during the strike? That’s a big accomplishment for the same culture that produced Versailles.

The Hôtel Goüin

This is what happens when you don’t plan in advance and just wing it. You get weird stuff. This hotel is on my walk from the tram stop to my school and I got curious about it, and noticed it’s opening hours were only on Wednesdays and Saturdays. I looked at it very very briefly online and saw that inside was an art gallery with rotating exhibitions. I thought, well I like art galleries, and it’s free, so why not? 

First, let me say, I do think it’s worth it to poke your nose into any free museum in your vicinity. Heck, even any museum under 10$ is likely to be worth a stop to me. I have gone into unexpected museums before, things I ran across that were adjacent to another stop on my journey, and it’s roulette. Also, since I had totally failed in the planning phase of my stay in Tours, I was eventually bound to suffer the slings of ‘wing it”, and only not mind too much because a) it’s 5 weeks, and b) my goal in Tours was not sightseeing – it was French Living.

If you or someone you know is headed to Tours and you happen to be in Old Tours on a Wednesday or Saturday, sure, drop in. However, there’s no need to put it on your bucket list. This summer, the Olympics are being held in Paris, so all of France is in Olympic fever. The Hôtel Goüin being no exception, they decided to offer an exhibition on the Paralympics. In large part, the exhibition was mostly very beautiful and inspiring photographs of paralympic athletes, but the upstairs (no elevator, btw, way to accommodate the athletes being celebrated!) contained not only documentaries, but interactive displays where visitors could “try on” a disability and attempt a sport. … I don’t even know what to write about that, other than, yes, I’m sure that’s what they were for because a museum employee told me about it and smilingly encouraged me to try.

If you are not cringing with me, or are wondering why I am, please check out some videos on YouTube by following this link.

The Musée des Beaux Arts

The third and easily most impressive museum I visited was the Tours Museum of Fine Arts. You can go to France and not visit an art museum, but why would you? I spent about 2.5 hours inside the museum of fine arts. I only took photos of things that struck me in particular, but it was room after room of beautiful stuff. I love looking at oil paintings up close. There’s some things that no photograph can ever capture, the quality of light, the ability for a part of a painting to seem like it’s glowing, the way the brush strokes move the eye, the size (both the enormous paintings and the tiny details). Seriously, even gallery-pro photos rarely do them justice, but if you want to see the museum’s own photographic collection, click here

Nonetheless, I cannot paint a picture of a gallery with only words, so I hope you enjoy the pictures I took and that maybe it can inspire you to visit an art gallery in or near your own town. Galleries often have wide collections, and even trade around highly desirable artists so that everyone can get a chance. The Tours museum is not anything so grand as is found in Paris, Lyon, London, or New York, but it still had a Rubens, a Rodin, a Rembrandt, and a Monet alongside many lesser known but still very talented artists from the 14th to 21st centuries.

Garland of flowers and trompe l’oeil, Jan-Philips van THIELEN, mid 1600s
Anonymous copy of the Mona Lisa painted mid 1500s
Mary Magdalene, Matthieu FREDEAU 1642
The Virgin, the Child Jesus and Saint John the Baptist, Eustache LE SUEUR, early 1600s
Portrait of a woman in spring, Workshop of Nicolas de LARGILLIERRE, early 1700s
Diana and her companions resting after hunting, Louis of BOULOGNE 1707
Allegory of the Times, Wealth, Power and Love; Claude VIGNON, mid 1600s
Nude study, Léon BELLY, 1857
Sarah Bernhardt in her Belle-Ilea garden, Georges CLAIRIN, late 1800s
Leaving mass on Easter Day in Labastide-du-Vert, Henri MARTIN, 1915

I recently had to try and explain Queer Coding to some folks and I found myself returning to YouTube to shore up my own understanding and references. One of the videos I watched pointed out that a lot of artists who painted under the totalitarian glare of the capital “C” Church used secret signs in their paintings of religious icons, and imagery out of Greco-Roman mythology to be able to portray scenes of queer love, romance, and eroticism that they could otherwise have been turned over to the Inquisition for. It was a perspective that made looking at many of these paintings from the 14-17th centuries much more entertaining.

I had to put this painting on its own. This is “Panoramic view of Tours in 1787” by Pierre-Antoine Demachy. When I turned a corner and saw this view, I was absolutely stunned because that’s the bridge I ride the tram over every day too and from school and my apartment. It’s actually fairly easy to regognize the major landmarks like the Cathedral on the left, the large white buildings with black roofs along side the road which is the Rue National (those are still holding shops today), and the Tower of Charlemagne as the tallest structure on the right. The artist was able to make the buildings in the distance look larger than they really are, and there are too many trees and new buildings for me to exactly replicate this view with my camera, but I gave it a go.

The lower floor of the museum is where the rotating and seasonal exhibits live. When I visited, it was an exhibit about the history of women called “THE SCEPTER & THE DISTAFF. BEING A WOMAN BETWEEN THE MIDDLE AGES AND THE RENAISSANCE“. Although it did have some generalizations, it mainly focused on France and it’s neighboring European countries and offered examples of illuminated manuscripts and artistic renditions of women as visual aids to the historical records. Anyone who has studied the history of women in the West will be well aware of the issues, but for those who are not, may I recommend the recent re-translation of Simone de Beauvoir’s eminent work, The Second Sex. If you’re on this website, I assume you like to read and so recommend the book, but there are plenty of YouTube videos reviewing and analyzing it. I don’t claim it’s the authoritative book of feminism (it’s got issues), but she does a very good job of assessing the historical condition of women in Western culture.

After I finished inside the museum, I headed outside to look for the pickup spot of the hippomobile. I didn’t make up that word. “Hippo” isn’t just a big African water mammal, it’s actually the ancient Greek word for “horse”. “Potamus” is Greek for “river”, which is how the hippopotamus got it’s name – river horse. Thus, the hippomobile is simply an ancient Greek way of saying horse-car, or horse drawn carriage. I don’t know why the one in Tours uses this name instead of the wildly more common French word “calèche“, but the first time I saw it on the website, I fell in love with the word and I refuse to relinquish it.

The internet further told me that I should catch this wonderful ride in front of “Fritz the Elephant” outside the Musée des Beaux Arts. When I arrived at the museum, a sign outside advertised the ride as picking people up at Fritz the Elephant as well, yet by the time I finished my museum tour, I still had no idea where (or really what) Fritz the Elephant was.

The Story of Fritz the Elephant

In my mind, Fritz would be a statue, or maybe a mural, adjacent to and clearly visible from the museum. Upon exiting the museum, I took a quick walk around the gardens (lord do I love the way the French put gardens everywhere). I found a little food stall, and a playground, and a trombone quartet (very unexpected), but still no elephant. Finally, I went over to a building off to one side that looked like it had been (or might still be) a stable. Lo and behold, there was Fritz in all his taxidermized glory, sheltered from the elements by a roof and plexiglass.

TW animal cruelty: because western civilization didn’t figure out animals had feelings until really recently and this is a story out of history. But also, there’s a silver lining at the end? If you want to avoid it, skip to the Hippomobile section where the animals are treated with kindness and respect.

Around the turn of the 20th century, the Barnum and Baily’s Circus was at its height. You may have been exposed to a glorified version of this with a singing Hugh Jackman, but the real circuses relied heavily on exotic animal shows, and the treatment and training for those animals, including elephants, was cruel and violent. Fritz was in captivity for 35 years, which would have been most of his life considering Asian elephants only live into their late 40s. He was purchased by Barnum in Germany in 1873 and shipped by sea to the US. Sea voyages were especially hard on animals then, since they took a long time, had terrible conditions, and there was no medication available to help the animals with anxiety or seasickness. Many elephants died on such voyages, including several of Fritz’s companions. 

In 1901, the B&B circus headed over to Europe for a continental tour. While in Bordeaux in May of 1902, Fritz began to show signs of agitation and aggression, and so was chained to two other elephants to keep him in check. When the circus reached Tours in June of the same year, the circus offered a parade through town as a way of attracting visitors to the shows. Though the parades were difficult, they were also often the only time the animals had any real freedom of movement. 

For reasons unknown to history, Fritz became enraged during this parade. 35 years of captivity and violent treatment cannot have been without consequences, and whatever the reason, Fritz freaked out and terrified all the local parade attendees. The handler was able to get Fritz under control and on the ground (laying down), but director on site still ordered the elephant put down. As horrible as that is, the method of execution was worse, and yet it’s inhumanity may have been the reason why Fritz became such an important historical symbol. The method used was strangulation with chains and rope. It took more than three hours for Fritz to pass. 

The remains of Fritz were sent off to a naturalist for preservation, and within 8 months the skeleton was installed at the natural history museum, and the taxidermized hide was placed in the former stables at the Musée des Beaux Arts. The press latched on to the story, framing Fritz as a gentle giant and a victim. Wild speculation abounded as to the cause of his rage. Some posited it must have been a lit cigarette burning him, but there is no evidence to support this claim. Regardless, Fritz became a beloved mascot of the city of Tours, and the tragic incident became a pivotal talking point for a growing movement acknowledging animal suffering and animal rights. 

As of my visit, more than 100 French cities ban the use of wild animals in circus shows, and the French government at the federal level has decided to completely ban all use of wild animals in travelling circuses by 2028. If that sounds like a small and late change, you aren’t wrong, but France isn’t behind the times. Most developed (rich) nations are still in the process of passing similar laws, often in patchwork and piecemeal ways, and of course developing nations are struggling enough with human rights, that it is difficult to get them onboard with eliminating animal exploitation which can mean the difference between feeding their own children or not.

I have talked about ethical animal tourism before and how important it is to patronize businesses that prioritize animal welfare because that needs to be seen as a viable economic model in order for more people to follow suit. 122 years have passed since Fritz was strangled to death on the streets of Tours for simply being a wild animal, and that seems like a long time, but we were still going to circuses with mistreated elephants when I was a kid. As short a time ago as 2008 I watched a tiger jump through a ring of fire in China (I didn’t know that would happen when I sat down for the show). Kids on the streets in Africa and SE Asia use baby monkeys they took from the mothers in order to lure tourists into taking and paying for cute selfies. There are still plentiful places that offer swims with captive dolphins or rides on captive elephants as tourist attractions. We love looking at and interacting with animals, but all too often that love is toxic.

Horse-drawn carriages are another great example. I’ve been to developing countries where the horses are near starved, dehydrated, and forced to work without a break in the scorching sun. I recall at one point in Egypt seeing a sign near an area with shade and water troughs that an animal welfare organization had fought to have installed for the horses which carried tourists around the ruins. It’s hard to convince a person who lives in a state of desperate poverty that they need to prioritize an animal when their own children may not have enough. A shorter work-day means less money, and is a big barrier to enforcing any kind of animal rights. Thus it’s up to tourists who take the rides to express a firm requirement that the animals be treated well. Stop paying for rides with badly treated animals and the drivers will change.

Please check your sources. Look for the zoos that have habitats of comfort and preservation (lots of zoos these days are changing their habitats to protect and serve the animals, and they rely more on rescuing animals that wouldn’t have survived in the wild or breeding programs rather than capturing healthy wild animals). Look for animal interactions that protect the animal ambassadors. They exist. Animals that for one reason or another don’t mind interacting with humans on their own terms can be great species ambassadors and inspire humans to better protect the environment, but we have to respect their boundaries and needs. Even the pet cafes can have better treatment of their animals, such as creating spaces where the animals can retreat when they want to, and having highly trained staff around to make sure the animals are safe and comfortable at all times, even if that means disappointing a customer.

We may be past the era of such tragedies as happened to Fritz, but we still have a long way to go to restore the balance between our love for interacting with animals and our ability to respect them.

The Hippomobile

Thankfully, in France, the labor rights are strong, even for horses, and these chevaux have restricted work hours, mandated breaks, days off for extreme weather, and nice digs.

“Our equine friends are given a day off every Monday. The horses that draw carriages in the morning are replaced by another set in the afternoon. The animals take breaks in the shade of the magnificent cedar tree outside the Museum of Fine Arts. The carriage driver decides which route to take depending on the time of day, weather conditions and/or the horses’ energy levels. When the weather is unfavorable to horses, the timetable may be modified or suspended.” — quote from the Filbleu website regarding this service

I joined the first afternoon tour (3:30pm) and although I was a bit disappointed that the weather plastic remained down (it had rained heavily a few days before), I was seated right at the back and could look out the open rear for clear views. I didn’t see a lot of new things because by this time, I’d lived in Tours for over 3 weeks and had done a lot of exploring on my own. However, Old Tours is endlessly charming and the weather that day was simply stunning, so for the price of transit ticket, I happily enjoyed the clip clop of horses hooves while I admired the scenery. 

The Cathedral of Saint-Gatien

This stunning cathedral is right next door to the museum and makes an easy side trip. I may have a love affair with gothic architecture and stained glass. I can’t seem to stop going into cathedrals which are all generally of a similar blueprint, and staring in wonder at the scale and scope of human achievement in terms of really big, really complex, and emotionally moving buildings. I took far too many photos of the different types of stained glass, but I admit that I’m more interested in the colors and shapes than I am in the catechism represented therein, so I can’t tell you what they are supposed to be depicting (though there were dozens of signs explaining each window inside the church).

When I was in the Fine Arts Museum, I found a painting of the cathedral, and did my best to replicate the angle in modern photo form. It may be a silly American thing, but we simply aren’t used to buildings which have stood for centuries, and despite knowing how old the building is (800 years), seeing a 200+ year old painting of the cathedral made it’s age somehow more real.

While I was in the church, the trombone quartet that I had found in the gardens outside the museum showed up to practice with the organist. I love listening to the giant pipe organs! It started out quiet enough so you could hear the trombones, then the organist pulled the stops out (that’s where that phrase comes from, right?) and wham!

The Botanical Gardens

Another thing to love about France is the ubiquitous nature of nature. I mean the public gardens. Although what the French call a garden may be anything from a highly cultivated botanical display to an asthetically designed artistic movement, to a grassy place with a water feature, they are all clean, safe, and well maintained, and above all free to the public.

I wrote about my three gardens in Paris earlier this spring, so while experiencing the long weekend and excellent weather in Tours, I decided to pop in to the Botanical Gardens. I was not disappointed. The bus lets passengers off right at the main entrance to the gardens (although there are multiple entrances because it is such a huge area of land). I started by walking to my right into a maze of botanical specimens. The plants are arranged in pleasing beds and trellises and I suspect at least part of it is in bloom in every season except winter. There were three paths with three different points of view and experiences, and at the far end sat a grand glass greenhouse. Unfortunately, that was closed during my visit, but it was a fairly small part of the overall parc.

As I turned around and headed back towards my entry point along a different pathway, I was treated to entirely different scenery and the sounds of very vocal frogs. I managed to sneak up on one in the water feature and snap a photo before he plonked into the depths. I walked for a while simply admiring the plants and small streams, watching families and couples enjoying picnics in the grass, and then suddenly I came upon the menagerie. Here in the middle of this garden were a small number of animal habitats. I recall seeing the same thing in the Jardin des Plants in Paris and being generally surprised that any free-to-all style park could afford the staff and upkeep for that. 

It is by no means a full zoo, but I feel like it added a layer of beauty but also entertainment and diversion (especially for children). There were some wallabies, peacocks, flamingos, turtles, tortoises, and a lot of farm type critters (chickens, geese, ducks goats, rabbits, and even a pig). Most of the animals were fenced away, but there was a mini-farm where people could go in and get a bit closer. 

At the opposite end, there were two playgrounds with equipment for children to climb and play on, and still more beautiful lawns of grass for people to picnic and nap on underneath the enormous sprawling trees. I left the park feeling tranquil and refreshed with the satisfied feeling that my last weekend in Tours was extremely well-spent.

So Long and Thanks for All the Thieboudienne

This is not a “fun” story of joyous tourism exploits and happy expat life. I had a lot of fun in Zanzibar, and I even had quite a few memorable good times in Senegal, even if most of them never made it into the blog. However, living and traveling in both places, I confronted some things that were hard to see, hear, think about, and know. I am personally both deeply pained and extremely grateful to have been smacked so far out of my comfort zone that it took me most of the year to process through denial, anger, sadness, and bargaining to reach a place of fragile acceptance. I travel to experience and learn, not just to have a good time. Though it is difficult, these aspects of a globetrotting life are just as treasured as my fun memories because they help me to understand the complex world we are all a part of in and to be a more compassionate human being to those around me.

The Stone Town Slave Museum 

Just as every historical tour in Europe has a section about WW2, every historical tour in Africa has a section about the slave trade. Zanzibar was the center of the East African slave trade, where slavers from the interior brought their captives by forced marches overland and a short boat trip to the slave market in Stone Town. The city where I live (Dakar, Senegal) has a similar historical site on Gorée Island, which is the center of the West African slave trade, and has a similar legacy of gathering slaves from the interior in one place to board on ships. Slaves went not only to the new world to work sugar, tobacco, and cotton plantations, but also to the Arabic world. These sites which commemorate the worst of humanity are not fun tourist attractions, but they are worth visiting because they instill a sense of reality that no amount of textbooks and documentary films can convey. You are standing where the people stood, both the boot and the neck. The blood is soaked into the earth and stones.

In the case of the Zanzibari slave trade, there existed a type of slavery before the growth of new world plantations exploded demand for free labor. Intertribal slavery between African (and indeed First Nations people in many parts of the world) was not uncommon, but it was a much smaller part of the economy. Prisoners of war were taken as slaves and although some were treated badly, some were integrated into the new tribe over a period of years. No version of slavery is “nice”, but I think it’s relevant to acknowledge how different slavery was in Africa before the foreigners got involved. Not only my guide, but a few other locals I spoke to there tried to excuse the West saying we wouldn’t have bought slaves if Africans weren’t selling them, and this is a level of internalized shame that I’m not ok with.

The increased demand for millions more slaves to serve in the Arabic peninsula and the new world colonies changed the entire dynamic of slavery and the economy of many places in Africa. The slaves that had previously been taken as prisoners of tribal skirmishes weren’t enough to meet the export demand and so a new industry emerged: to wage wars for the sole purpose of taking slaves. Government leaders also captured and sold their own people when they couldn’t get enough from “enemy” tribes. Slaves were forced on long marches with little to no food or water, and those who fell sick were left to die.

By contrast, the free people in Zanzibar prospered by collecting fees from the inland slavers as well as the foreign traders for every slave sold in their markets. When the West abolished slavery, the leaders in Zanzibar didn’t want to stop because it was too lucrative, even without the Euro-American market! The modern attitudes of hakuna matata and pole pole (no worries, and take it slow) on the island are likely a direct result of the fact that for centuries the islanders had to do very little work for the passive income of slave taxes to make them comfortable. Although they no longer sell anyone directly into slavery, the local governments in many places in Africa continue to exploit their own people in extreme ways in order to preserve the legacy of easy money their ancestors had in the slave trade days.

The slave museum in Stone Town tells not only of the horrors of slavery, but also of Livingstone’s mission of abolition. While some in the West may see Livingstone as an embodiment of the “white man’s burden”, many in Africa still praise his abolitionist efforts. Although it was the British government and navy that did most of the work of stamping out the slave trade, Livingstone’s published accounts of the atrocities of the slave trade in Africa helped spread discontent with the continuation of the practice. In American education, the end of slavery is often taught as something that just happened one day upon the signing of the Emancipation Declaration. Few white Americans know the history of the holiday Juneteenth (June 19th) celebrating the day the last group of confederate forces in Texas were finally uprooted, freeing the remaining slaves almost 2 1/2 years later. Even fewer know that the last slaves weren’t actually freed until 6 months after that with the 13th amendment. Almost no one I talk to knows that the 13th amendment didn’t end slavery for all – it’s still legal as a form of punishment for criminals in the United States.

The museum in Stone Town makes no bones about the lengthy process of eliminating slavery and the challenges newly freed slaves faced with no homes, no money, no family ties, and nowhere to go. Even after the Sultan finally caved to the pressure to stop the practice of selling slaves, he didn’t banish the owning of slaves for some time after. The women were the last to be freed because owners tried to claim them as wives rather than slaves, and the difference wasn’t easy to spot. Freed slaves were taken to “apprentice” at plantations where their lives were little different from they had been before; the only difference being their backbreaking labor was rewarded with meager wages and their food and housing came at a price. Freed children were sent to Christian missionary schools which molded them into “good” colonial citizens and converts. Slowly, the freed slaves were able to use their meager wages to move away from the plantations and missions, some to uncultivated land and others to the city for urban work. The legacy of the slave trade is long lasting for Africans everywhere, and museums like this help us understand not only our history, but our present — and hopefully help us to shape a better future.

The abolishment of slavery in the 19th century only made slavery illegal, yet it still continues to this day. Slavery exists in every country of the world and has dramatically increased in the 21st century. There are more slaves today than were seized during the entire African slave trade. While some countries have larger numbers than others, it is an issue that affects all of us.

Modern day slavery is defined as a relationship in which one person is controlled and exploited by another, usually by the use or threat of violence, for the purpose of profit, sex, servitude or the thrill of domination-deprived of free will, restricted in movement and paid nothing beyond subsistence. A slave may be kidnapped, captured, tricked or born into slavery.

Modern slavery is a hidden crime The International Labor Organization (ILO) estimates the illicit profits of forced labor to be $US150 billion a year. From the Thai fisherman trawling fishmeal, to the Congolese boy mining diamonds, from the Uzbeki child picking cotton, to the Indian girl stitching footballs, from the women who sew dresses, to the cocoa pod pickers, their forced labor is what we consume. Modern slavery is big business.

TYPES OF MODERN DAY SLAVERY

BONDED LABOUR
Workers who have received or are tricked into taking a loan and are unable to leave until their debt is repaid. Often times, children of bonded laborers must continue to work off the debts, leading to generations of enslaved families. It is the most common type of slavery today.

FORCED LABOUR
Any work or services which people are forced to do against their will under the threat of some form of punishment. Almost all slavery practices, including trafficking in people and bonded labor, contain some element of forced labor.

CHILD SLAVERY
Children who are used by others for profit. For example in forced marriage, prostitution pornography begging petty theft, drug tracing, labour, armed fighting or wives’ for soldiers. Usually, child slavery is accompanied with violence, abuse and threats.

EARLY AND FORCED MARRIAGE
Women and girls entering marriage without choice, forced to live a life of servitude often accompanied by physical violence and with no realistic choice of leaving the marriage.

DESCENT-BASED SLAVERY
The legal ownership of a person by another person or state, including the legal right to buy and sell them as any common object.

Products made by modern day slaves flow into the global supply chain and eventually into our homes leaving most of us unaware of our contribution in supporting it.

From the Slave Museum, Stone Town Zanzibar

A Talk With A Zanzibari Guide

My guide around Stone Town was a young man of mixed Arab and Swahili heritage (his mother is Arabic and his father Swahili) and I think had a unique perspective on Zanzibari culture as a result of living with one foot in two worlds while belonging to neither. When we reached the church at the slave museum, we sat down for a break from all the walking in 33C/UV11 weather and he opened up to me about his life. As with any personal account, I know that it’s his perspective and opinion, and not an objective truth, but I found it to be a fascinating conversation, and I’d like to share some of what he told me.

What he described to me was a life of codependency. I know Americans are extremely independent, and I’ve seen how extended family structures can bind young people in other countries often making them feel like they have no choice in what they study or who they marry. Yet what my guide explained to me of the family networks here, it is not only impossible to survive outside of one, the parents (especially fathers) can be very harsh, and abuse is normal. He shared his opinion that children need to have things explained to them because just hitting them makes them live in fear, so I hope that when he has his own children he will practice this. His parents are less bound by their own families. Both families disapproved of the mixed marriage, so they had to go it more independently. He feels very lucky to not be bound by the familial codependence he sees his peers trapped in.

Women have little freedom. He said most men have 2 wives (though they are allowed up to 4) because the first wife will be who his parents want him to marry, and the second will be who he wants to marry, which seems critically unfair to everyone involved. Women are encouraged to stay at home. Though young girls here are in school, many don’t pursue a degree after high school or have any desire to work outside the home. Parents pressure young women to prepare for marriage and think men will not want a woman who works (or possibly that a woman who earns her own money will put up with less BS from a husband?) My guide told me that many young women watch romantic dramas from around the world and get the impression that marriage will be a better life than getting a job, and are later very disappointed that it’s not true. My guide said hopes to find a wife who wants to work, not because they need more money, but because she wants something for herself.

Men are also trapped into a life decided by others. They must go into the career their fathers choose, marry the woman their parents select, and spend their salary to support their own parents, their wives’ parents, their wives, and their children, meaning a single salary supports up to 7 adults and possibly more than 7 children. Zanzibar is even more economically challenging because people from the mainland come over and do jobs for dirt cheap (140$ a month!). Mainlanders can send home 20$ and it goes a long way to support the family living there, while families that live in Zanzibar need 350$ or more a month just to scrape by. A gift of 100$ from a hardworking son may be seen as a trifle on the island but a fortune on the mainland.

Despite the fact that tourists are paying 100$/night for a hotel room, 100$+/ day on tours and god knows how much on food and trinkets, the average salary for the workers here is around 250-300$/month USD. Where is all this money going? The government takes big cuts in the form of double income taxes (Tanzania and Zanzibar each have taxes that islanders must pay while mainlanders only pay Tanzanian taxes), and licensing fees for anyone who wants to sell, make, display, tour, drive, etc. I saw an actual paddy wagon loaded up with unlicensed street vendors on their way to jail, and my guide said they’ll be right back on the street selling souvenirs as soon as they can. Once the government takes their cut, the owners take the rest, and the owners are mostly foreigners. Several guides throughout my stay told me with bitterness edging their voices about the new development on one of the small islands that was bought up by Indians. Locals never get enough money to invest in property or larger businesses which is a big part of what keeps them trapped in the codependent and often abusive family structures for survival their whole lives.

It reminded me also of a conversation I had with an aid worker who had recently returned from the Congo. The warlords there keep everyone in a state of fear and violence and poverty while reaping the rewards of the mining operations. The mining work gets priority even over subsistence farming, leaving the population without enough food to live on. Many African countries are rich in resources, minerals, fertile land, skilled labor, and yet so often it is mismanaged to benefit only a few while leaving the rest to struggle for less than scraps. There should be enough to go around; the scarcity is artificial. The greed is real.

Final Thoughts in Dakar

As I prepare this post, I am 4 days from leaving Senegal to return to the US. Although I would prefer to end my journey on a high note, I feel that would be disingenuous. Living, working, and traveling in sub-Saharan Africa has been one of the most challenging experience of my life so far, but as such, one that will have a large and lasting impact. In addition to the quality of life challenges, it has been an unending revelation of my own biases and privilege, which is a hard pill to swallow. My friends and family, in a well meaning attempt to offer comfort when I’m so obviously discomforted, have used phrases like “living nightmare” to describe the conditions here while saying they simply can’t imagine how anyone could live this way, and telling me how brave and resilient I am. But. These words are not comforting. I am a guest in a place that may be objectively lower on the international quality of life index (yes that’s a real thing), but millions of people still call it home.

People in Africa are struggling with the legacy of colonial war and exploitation that still colors the culture, language, economy, and even religion today. There is no doubt that centuries of foreign rule and resource theft has left deep wounds and little with which to heal them. However, the human spirit is indominable. The people born into this reality are aware of what they don’t have because one thing they do have is enough TV and internet to see the literal and metaphorical greener grass of the northern hemisphere. Yet, every day, they get up and live.

They collect water from a centralized source when the infrastructure fails. They wash clothes in buckets on the front stoop because washing machines are an expensive luxury. There are orphans begging in the streets who will become adults selling peanuts and candy on the roadside. Families struggle to pay high fees for substandard services offered by corrupt politicians and businesses resulting in unreliable electricity, water, and healthcare in even the most developed and cosmopolitan cities. Schools cram 100 students into a room with 20 desks where they learn without computers or enough books. The government of the most stable democracy in the region violates the human rights of its citizens when they complain too much.

But also. They cook delicious food which they share with friends and family when they celebrate holidays, marriages and births. They create music and art in any available space. They stay out late partying and take naps in the heat of the day. Christians and Muslims exchange gifts of food across faiths on their respective high holy days. People gather at public screenings to cheer wildly for their favorite football (soccer) teams and set up casual matches in any open lot or field. They love their children and help their neighbors. They march and protest for better conditions while carrying their national flags because they have national pride and believe their country is capable of more. They open salons on every street and work out in the evenings along the corniche because they take pride in their appearance and wellbeing. They splash in the ocean and laugh with the sheer joy of it. They bring color to the dry and dusty land with bright fabric prints and billowing swathes of bougainvillea that climb every wall and patio.

It is not a tribute to the bravery or resilience of visitors who temporarily partake in a life which so different from the one we were raised to. It is not a fairy tale of the “noble savage” that lets us imagine some kind of mythical innate goodness and moral superiority of the people who have less, and are making the best of it. It is not a whipping post for white guilt where we come to cry and wring our hands about the horrors of the past in order to feel better when we shop fair trade and have someone tell us how good we are for not being racists. It’s just people. The traumas of life affect everyone: individuals, societies, generations. I want to be able to acknowledge the past and honor the pain of another without turning it into inspiration porn or a hairshirt self-flagellation. What do you see when you look at someone who is living a life that you imagine would break you? What are you living with that might break someone else?

In Wolof, the greeting expression often translated as How are you? is “Nanga def?”, but it literally means Where are you?. In English, we have to answer that question with an adjective of value: fine, ok, great, not good, etc. In Wolof, you answer, “Mangi fi.” I am here. I am here.

Manifestation Dakar

It’s no secret that my tenure in Senegal has been a challenge. I got back from Zanzibar at the end of February feeling like I might have a chance at emerging from the blackest depths of culture shock rejection into the somewhat calmer waters of acclimation. I found some new friends; I met some local teachers who wanted to involve me in their professional development activities; I enjoyed the spring weather; I was excited about finally having real classes at the vet school where I might see the same students on a regular basis and be able to develop rapport enough to learn about their lives, and I was really looking forward to the new project my RELO said she would help me start doing more teacher training at the Embassy. My new outlook was to be short lived, however, as just two weeks after returning to Dakar, the troubles started.

Some Context: 2000-2022

Senegal is considered to be West Africa’s Most Stable Democracy(TM), and has been enjoying the very relative peace and prosperity that comes with that honor for about 23 years give or take. The first “free and fair” election held in an independent Senegal was in the year 2000. Before that, elections were limited with by things like bans on any kind of opposition to the sitting president, limited voting rights, etc. Before that they were French occupied, so… Anyway, that first president freely and fairly elected from an opposition party, and peacefully transitioned into power held his office from 2000 to 2012, when the current president, Mackey Sall took over. Cue the drama.

Senegal has an electoral system in which if no candidate wins a clear majority, a second round of voting (a run-off) happens between the top two. Sall was #2 with 26.5% and the incumbent was #1 with 34.8%. Then Sall went around to all the other candidates who lost and said ‘hey, if you tell your supporters to vote for me, I’ll change the presidential term from 7 years to 5 years, and implement a 2 term limit’ (things a lot of people wanted). It worked, he won. Then he decided maybe his first term wasn’t the best time to change the term length, so he served 7 years and won the 2019 elections, in which his biggest opposition was barred from running over some legal trouble. Sall won that largely uncontested election with 58% of the vote.

In 2020 Sall suggested he might run for a third term after all, just six months after signing a law which abolished the post of Prime Minister of Senegal, (consolidating his power as president) and this made people understandably upset. Ousmane Sonko had already gained some popularity in the 2019 elections, and was making a lot of noise about the trend of power abuses going on. In 2021, Sonko was arrested for alleged rape, sparking the first wave of the current protest movement. Clashes broke out again in June 2022 after authorities invalidated the opposition party’s candidate list for the legislative elections, and that unrest also resulted in several deaths.

Spring 2023: The Trial & The Appeal

Fast forward to 2023, Sall was accused of defamation for talking about corrupt officials and brought to trial. The new charges were seen as an attempt to once again remove Sall’s biggest opposition from the race, and a third wave of protests erupted in mid-March (just two weeks after I got back to Dakar).

  • March 14: My teacher’s meeting was postponed from the 15th to the 22nd to make room for the protests. Email alerts started coming in from the Embassy describing the unrest and cautioning Americans to be extra careful.
  • March 15: The email alerts become more serious as the day wore on, warning of road closures, looting, and tear gas.
  • March 16: A “stay home” stern request from the Embassy was issued, and the University cancelled classes. Updates of the situation described burning tires, shop looting, police shooting tear gas, protestors setting up barricades, fires set on state owned buses, and shops burning. The trial was postponed two weeks because Sonko was injured while getting to court
  • March 17: Amnesty International published an article explaining the key issues and human rights violations
  • March 20-22: A teachers’ strike called for the release of the teachers who had been detained and arrested at the protests.

This experience was a little scary and disruptive. My classes were cancelled, the professional development events were put on hold, and I chose to skip out on social events because I didn’t know how bad it might be in some areas of town. The local pub owner (a long term expat) gave me a bit of a hard time about it, saying it was really blown out of proportion, but it was hard to get accurate news because journalists were being arrested. Eventually, my school and many others simply decided to start spring break early rather than deal with the uncertainty of safety, road closures, or online learning.

(Do not even get me started on the crazy privilege that is telework/tele-education in a country like Senegal with limited access to the internet and technology, rolling blackouts, service cuts, and overall poverty. People tell me they did it during COVID, but given how awful that was in Korea which has the wealth, technology and free public Wi-Fi all over the place, I do not imagine it was a success here.)

In the rescheduled trial, Sonko was found guilty of defamation, but his sentence was basically a slap on the wrist that would not prevent him from running in the upcoming elections, and things settled down for a couple weeks until the appeal trial started in mid-April, resulting in more protests and more cancelled classes.

Meanwhile, I was still trying my best to live a happier and more well adjusted life in Senegal, clinging to my post-Zanzibar mood renewal. I had a few classes that weren’t cancelled where I really enjoyed the students cheerful attitudes and learned a small but treasured amount about their own lives and cultures (not all my students are Senegalese). I went out for meals with friends and returned to the pub for trivia and karaoke. One especially memorable night when karaoke was suspended for Ramadan (out of respect for the neighbors) we gathered around the pub owner and a band mate with a couple of acoustic guitars and sang for hours. I struggled still with the school resources (not enough) and the overall quality of life in Dakar with it’s rolling blackouts, random water cuts, and rampant indoor insect population, but I was getting better at finding balance.

Ramadan ends in the holiday of Eid al-Fitr, called Korité in Senegal, which started on April 21st this year, and there was a 5 day celebration, so protests were less intense and people were in a better mood for a while, but it also meant that instead of my classes being cancelled for protests they were not scheduled because of the holiday. It went: protests, spring break, protests, Ramadan, protests, Eid — meaning that I only saw students a couple of times during the spring if at all. In some cases I went as much as 6 weeks between meeting with a group of students from one class to the next.

May 2023: the Next Trial

Sonko was next facing the trial for the rape allegations laid against him back in 2021. This is a touchy subject because it is important to believe women and hold sexual predators accountable, but also, it does look quite shady when there is a pattern of Sall’s political opponents being subjected to legal attacks that removed them from the elections. That trial date was set for the end of May. In the run-up, we saw smaller protests and demonstrations around the city. Classes were cancelled yet again as more and more students attended demonstrations on campus, attracting police responses in some cases.

What I now know is that Sonko was tried in absentia and although acquitted (found not guilty) of rape, he was found guilty of “corrupting the youth” and sentenced to 2 years in prison. I am not a lawyer, and even if I were, Senegalese law is different from the laws of my home country. However, there are some elements of the story that cast doubt on the legitimacy and legality of the proceedings.

In absentia assumes the defendant chose not to come, but Sonko has been prevented from leaving his home by government forces surrounding and blockading him in. These same forces are also keeping all visitors out and restricting his access to phone and internet connections, including his with his lawyer. Is right to council not a thing here? Is this not a textbook example of unlawful detention? Also, he was convicted of a charge that he wasn’t on trial for, which again, just seems like poor jurisprudence to me, but I’m not an expert. I look forward to a time when I can read a detailed explanation filtered through some legal experts to clarify it all.

At the time, however, I was oblivious to all of it, barely paying attention to the reason behind the clashes beyond “more election stuff”. Social events continued even when classes were cancelled. We had a really great turnout at the Embassy when we reopened the American Center to the public and had over 450 Senegalese in attendance. I thought it was all just small demonstrations localized to the campus and a couple neighborhoods. Even when my scheduled Embassy event for May 31st was moved online, I just thought it was an abundance of caution. I was so tuned out of the social climate that the day after this very controversial court ruling, I went out for my regular Thursday night on June 1st.

June 2023 : Dakar is Burning

The ride up from my apartment to the pub that evening was eerily devoid of traffic, and the usually bustling business strip where my pub lives was almost empty. It was deeply freaky and made me question my life choices. I had drinks with two New Yorkers and one Saudi diplomat (the only other customers in the place so we sat together). We noticed that social media was not loading, but chalked it up to spotty service. When it was time to go home, I realized there were zero cars on either ride share app, so I overpaid for a taxi home along more eerily empty roads.

Once home and on my Wi-Fi network, I got error messages from Facebook until I turned on my VPN. Further poking around showed me that not only Facebook and Messenger, but also Instagram, TikTok, Twitter and WhatsApp (the primary method of communication here) were not working from Senegalese IP addresses, but I had no way to know the details until the next day when I found confirmation that the government had initiated a social media blackout.

The next few days were intense. The streets were empty; the shops were closed; motorcycles were banned on the streets; the police, gendarmes and military were out in force. I saw videos of SWAT clad police holding children in front of them while they hurled rocks and tear gas canisters from behind their human shields. At least 16 people died, many due to the use of live ammunition by police and government forces against protestors who were armed with nothing more than rocks and boards. More than 500 people were arrested, many in arbitrary arrests which further violates human rights.

The internet blackouts went from social media to all mobile phone data access, meaning that once I set foot outside of my Wi-Fi range, I was cut off. Most Senegalese didn’t even have Wi-Fi access. Students were fleeing the burned and ravaged campus, trying desperately to get buses back to their family homes, but many didn’t have the money for tickets and were cut off from receiving digital money transfers or crowdfunding options. The university closed indefinitely. This CNN One World video may be the best English language video coverage I have seen about the situation.

It was scary to be in the city knowing all this was going on outside my apartment walls, and yet I was objectively safe. I live in a quiet neighborhood with no banks or large shops nearby. We are not a target area. I had Wi-Fi and VPN access to the internet and social media. I had been on a grocery run a few days before and was well stocked upon food and bottled water. My friends asked if I could leave and it was hard to explain that I was safer inside than trying to get to the airport (that road being one of the target and occupied areas). I spent the days alternating between numbness and panic attacks, trying to follow the story in case it changed and I needed to get out suddenly, but also trying not to let the flood of news and images send me into a spiral.

Although the main campus had closed, the veterinary college where I teach (English) tried valiantly to remain functional, sending out schedules and announcements through the weekend. They tried to move classes online, but the government shut down of mobile internet made it impossible, so they suspended classes for the remainder of the week. I worried about my students, where they would live without access to student housing, or what they would eat with the campus cafeteria closed. Especially I worried about my foreign students from neighboring West African countries who might be more accustomed to violence and instability, but are far from their families and support networks.

The mass arrests and extreme crackdowns did result in quieter streets, but as more and more foreign news agencies and human rights watchdogs were able to sort out the details, international pressure mounted. On Monday the 5th, I ventured outside to visit my local boulangerie and supermarche and I was encouraged to see traffic, including taxis and horse cards, street vendors, and construction workers. By Wednesday June 7th, the mobile data was restored, but social media remained blocked for another day. That Thursday, the Anglophonic expat community gathered for trivia night at the pub and generally tried our best to shake it off, knowing that the troubles were far from over, but finding relief in the breath of normal we could take in the moment.

There were planned gatherings for that weekend, but the government officials denied them permits, citing improper paperwork and public welfare, finally resulting in a general ban on all public demonstrations.

During the worst of the violence (June 1-3) the main university campus was ravaged. Buildings including the library and archives were burned, and the campus remains closed. My vet school is physically very close to the UCAD main campus, but isn’t large enough to have attracted any of the destruction. So, while the university remains closed with courses suspended, my school resumed online functions, reserving in person meetings on campus as deemed necessary for practical courses and oral exams, but limiting it to the hours of 8am to noon. We are now in the final week of the semester, and my English classes were bumped from the schedule entirely to make way for the make up courses of core curriculum, which is honestly just as well because I was really struggling with how to make the content viable online to students with limited access to technology and internet.

Waiting for the Other Shoe

We are fast approaching the holiday of Eid al-Adha, called Tabaski in Senegal, which is a big one. I read an article that sheep and goat farmers were considering not bringing their livestock to Dakar if they didn’t get some assurances that the violence would stop. Sacrificing a sheep or goat is a big part of the holiday celebrations, so they’ve been breeding extra stock and rely on the income to survive the leaner months. I don’t blame them for not wanting to risk all that; however, I’ve seen a LOT of extra goats around town in the last couple days, so I’m guessing they worked it out.

The population may have settled on a decrease in tensions for the holiday (June 26-July 1), but everyone knows it can’t last. Sonko is still under unofficial (illegal?) house arrest, having not yet been arrested officially nor officially presented with his sentence. The administration is under investigation internationally for human rights violations and the use of excessive force against it’s own population, and Macky Sall has floated the idea of pushing the election back a further 2 years (giving himself a second 7 year term instead of the newer 5 year limit) all while refusing to adhere to the 2 term limit he himself helped to establish (claiming that his first 7 year term shouldn’t count towards the limit because that law was not in place when he took office). This space opera is far from over, and as far as I and many others living in Senegal are concerned, this temporary and fragile peace is just waiting for the drop.

More Resources & Articles:

Nine dead as protests rock Senegal after Sonko jail sentence, Al Jazeera
Ousmane Sonko sentenced: Why are tensions flaring in Senegal?, Al Jazeera
In Dakar, “it’s the intifada” after the conviction of Ousmane Sonko, AfriqueXXI
Thread for a better understanding of the current situation in my country, Senegal, @UsseynuTAAL
Demonstrations: “The situation is under control”, Agence de Presse Senegalaise
Senegal: Violent Crackdown On Opposition, Dissent, Human Rights Watch
Their marches banned by the prefect of Dakar, Seneweb.com

Zanzibar: Stone Town

Stone Town is an architectural love child of Indian, Arabic and Swahili cultures. The narrow maze-like streets car-free (though not cart-free) and stuffed from end to end with life. “Get lost in Stone Town” is another top 10 Zanzibar activity. The whole neighborhood is less than 2km2, bordered by the sea on the west, the Darajani Market on the east, and some fairly uninspiring highways on the north and south. GPS sort of works, but because the streets are so close together and none of them are clearly labeled (or possibly even named) you can only get a general idea of where your destination is. You will get lost trying to get there.

A Brief Historical Context

Zanzibar is an interesting and unique geographical gateway between central Africa and the Arabic and Indian cultures. The trade winds carried ships from India and Arabia then trapped ships on the islands for about 6 months at a time before they were able to sail back. Unlike many other trade centers, where the sailors and foreign merchants were in and out of port in days or weeks, the Indian and Arab merchants who came to the islands of Zanzibar were obligated by the wind to stay for half a year at a time, and so they often married local women, built homes, and had families. Though there is archaeological evidence that the island of Zanzibar was involved in trade with other mainland African cultures, the intercontinental trade seems to have started around the 9th century. There was about 600 years of cultural mixing between the Indian, Arabic, and Swahili people that had ups and downs of who was in charge and who was converting who and who was selling who into slavery, but this is the brief history, so we fast forward to roughly 1500 when Portugal hit the scene.

The 1490s are a bit famous for that trip Columbus took, but he was far from the only European out to find wealth in “unexplored” parts of the world. Vasco de Gama was the first European to reach India by sea, a trade route that required stops along the eastern African coast. Portugal was one of the big European colonial powers and they had their fingers in pretty much every exploited continent. Zanzibar was not only a good resting stop en route to Calcutta, but a source of rare spices and human slaves from the African mainland, which were the big moneymakers in those days. The Portuguese ran Zanzibar for about 200 years, until the late 1690s when the Omani Sultanate took it (possibly at the request of the local Swahili people who thought an Arabic overlord would be better than a European one). Somewhere between 1830-40, the Sultan of Oman moved the capital city from Muscat to Stone Town, and when he died in 1856, he split the empire between his two sons, giving Zanzibar to one and Oman to the other. In a move that surprises no one, they fought about it, but then in a shocking twist, they allowed the will to be arbitrated by the British general protector of India. The Age of Empires remains confusing.

Zanzibar continued as a separate Sultanate until the British decided that actually, slavery was morally reprehensible after all, and that everyone should stop now that they had decided to stop. This didn’t happen all at once, but from about 1822-1873 the British put increasing economic and military pressure on the Sultanate to stop trading in slaves, including trade embargos and the raiding of slave ships. Freetown in Sierra Leone was created to rehome the slaves who were liberated by the British during this time. By 1890, Germany and Britain decided between them that Zanzibar would be a “protectorate” of Britain (which is like colony lite). Finally, in 1963, around the time Britain was being forced to give up on the whole Empire idea, Zanzibar got full independence as a constitutional monarchy. They promptly had a revolution to oust the royals in favor of a representative government, and one year later, merged with the mainland country of Tanganyika to form the modern nation of Tanzania. Despite this unification, Zanzibar remains a separate autonomous region (like Hong Kong and China) with it’s own flag, president and taxes.

First Impressions

My first week in Zanzibar, I decided to stay at a hostel in the heart of Stone Town since it seems to be where a lot of the action on the island is. My ride from the airport (a comedy of errors) tried to just leave me in a random parking lot with a random guy. It felt very sketchy, but I have since learned this is pretty normal and that Stone Town is actually very safe for tourists. In Stone Town, “lost” is a relative term. The streets are close and narrow, but there’s a fair amount of order. There’s the main arterial market streets which are loaded with shops, there are the quiet side streets where locals hang laundry and kids play after school, and there’s the waterfront. You’re only really going to get “lost” in the quiet side streets, and even then only for a few blocks until you’re spit back out to one of the main areas or reach the edge.

I was initially overwhelmed by the number of people talking to me. Unlike Senegal where French is the colonial language, English is the colonial language in Tanzania, and they love greeting tourists with spatterings of friendly Swahili as well. The shopkeepers call out as you pass by, inviting you to look, asking where you’re from, and generally being friendly. Of course they want to sell things, but they don’t physically invade your space and they don’t get mean or angry when you say “no thanks”, they just say “hakuna matata, maybe next time”. There are free range sales people who are arranging tours and excursions and they’ll just walk with you and chat. I got some advice about what to avoid doing and eating while in town, and although I never ended up booking with any of the street tour guides, I quickly came to not mind their chatty presence in my walks through Stone Town the rest of the week.

A Guided Tour

I opted for an Airbnb Experience, again hoping that a more personalized touch would be better than a company tour. It seems like Airbnb in Zanzibar is really just a front for businesses. This may also be related to the rules about tourism and taxi licensing. My spice tour guide explained that it takes a couple years minimum to get the licensing to drive tourists around. Walking tour operators don’t have that concern, but they still have to be able to produce papers if they’re questioned by authorities while leading a group of tourists around. The result is that Airbnb isn’t random locals sharing their culture for a small fee, it’s actual real businesses, and you just have to hope they’re not shady. Reading the reviews helps, but as I learned with my Blue Safari trip is not a guarantee. Thankfully, my Stone Town tour was a win. The other person/people who had booked it never showed up, so I had a totally private tour. The friendly guide was happy to adjust the pace, the amount of time spent at each place, and even the places we went to my personal tastes. He also relaxed and opened up a lot more about the details of life in Zanzibar and Tanzania.

The entirety of Stone Town is a UNESCO Heritage site, and there are a couple buildings in particular (like the House of Wonders) that have their own special status. As a result, everything is always under restorative construction, all the time. UNESCO standards require that repairs must be done in the original work methods with the original construction materials in order to receive funding. This is great in lots of parts of the world, and keeps ancient cultural heritage styles of art and construction alive in places where the local economy might have driven them to extinction. However, in Zanzibar, the original construction was often quick and cheap, and the regular monsoons erode the limestone and coral structures. Walls made of old coral are constantly being replaced and the House of Wonders has been closed for more of the last decade than it’s been open.

In addition to the issue of materials and labor, the currency exchange and corruption are eating away at restoration efforts. The UNESCO funds are issued in Euro but the materials and labor must be purchased in Tanzanian Shillings, so exchange rates affect budgets and cost estimations. In addition, the government officials skim way more than what most countries would consider acceptable graft. My guide expressed a tolerance for “reasonable government corruption” by saying that out of a 20million Euro repair budget, the officials can take up to 2million, but should leave 18 for the work. This 10% skim was his idea of good corruption, but he clarified that in reality the take is much much higher, meaning that most of the UNESCO money goes to lining bureaucratic pockets rather than actually restoring the historical heritage sites.

Doors, Windows, & Walls

The Zanzibari Doors are one of the most famous and easiest things to see on your own while wandering around. Each one is hand carved and unique. They seem to have been a Swahili tradition that was adopted and embellished by the Indian and Arab traders. Most of the accounts of Zanzibari doors I found online seem to have been written by people like myself, visitors who went on the tour, so I’m not sure how historically accurate the information is in details. There’s a serious lack of accessible written history of African cultures. Almost all written records were made by colonizers and traders, and those were generally taken away to live in the basement of libraries and archives in the home countries of those colonizers and traders where they remain in dusty obscurity to this day until a few scholars (also likely not from Africa for economic reasons) decide to sort through them for a PhD dissertation which is itself read only by their peers and advisors, never reaching the general public. Is there a dissertation somewhere on the details of the symbolism of Zanzibari Doors? Possibly? But I can’t find it.

The main differences that everyone knows about are: the Indian style doors which may have round arches and usually have brass spikes, originally used in the Punjab as elephant deterrents, later evolved to a status symbol. The Arabic style doors may have a peaked arch or be square topped, and generally also have some stylized Arabic script, protective prayers from the Quran, engraved on the lintel. The Swahili designs include vines, fish, flowers, and later coffee beans and cloves. My guide told me that pineapples and grapes were a later addition, somewhere around the 1850s, which tracks as 1856 being the year that Zanzibar became a separate Sultanate from Oman.

Though everyone used the doors to signify wealth, each culture had different decorative values otherwise. Arab Muslims were (and in many parts of the world still are) not into external displays of wealth on the home. Exteriors of Arab built homes in Zanzibar are very plain. Windows and balconies are built to protect those inside from the eyes of passersby, and there were even covered bridges between homes to allow the secluded women and children to visit one another without stepping into the public view. The Indians, in contrast, loved to be seen. The exteriors of Indian built homes have flourishes and colors, windows and balconies allow the homeowners to show off their wealth and fashion to the public without going outside.

Modern day buildings and newer doors often incorporate traits from all three main cultural influences for both aesthetic and blended heritage reasons. Architecture isn’t the only thing that blends in Zanzibar. Although Islam is an import from the Arabian peninsula, Zanzibar is currently majority Muslim (while mainland Tanzania seems to be majority Christian). However, the cultural blending of Zanzibari history means that in addition to all the major branches of Islam being represented, Zanzibar also hosts Hindu and Jain temples (of Indian descent) as well as a variety of Christian churches including Catholic, Anglican, Lutheran, Adventist, and Pentecostal. I enjoy this photo op of the mosque and cathedral sharing the skyline.

The Freddie Mercury Museum

The tour stops out front of the the Freddie Mercury Museum. This is one of the big hot-spots of Stone Town. They are really excited to have a globally famous rock star trace his origin to their town. Freddie was born in Stone Town to Persi-Indian parents. He didn’t actually live there much, since he was in India as a small child, then England for boarding school, but Stone Town claims his birthright. This tiny little museum costs 8$US to enter and takes 15-45 minutes to view depending on how much you want to read and how slow a reader you are. The displays are mostly childhood and family photos as well as album covers. They have an impressive collection of lyric notes, which is kind of cool. There is also a tiny side room that has his famous Wembley concert jackets (the yellow as well as the white with red buckles). I have no idea if anything in the museum is authentic since replicas of these items are pretty easy to get online.

The museum is not what you’d call impressive. I’m biased because I lived with the Seattle EMP (now Mo-Pop) for decades, but even diehard Queen fans would likely feel underwhelmed. Nevertheless, I am happy I spent my money there and I hope more people do because Tanzania is still a place where being queer is illegal, punishable with fines and prison time (up to a life sentence). Freddie is a queer icon. As a bisexual man, his sexuality is often subject to erasure. In the West people tend to forget that he was BI and not GAY, ignoring his relationships with women. In the museum in Zanzibar, there is no mention of his relationships with men, and his relationship with Mary Austin is the only romantic reference. Despite this erasure, I think their pride in Freddie can act as a wedge to allow a discussion of LGBTQ+ rights to take place in Zanzibar and eventually on the mainland, so they can have my tourist money.

“[Queen is] just a name…It had a lot of visual potential and was open to all sorts of interpretations. I was certainly aware of the gay connotations, but that was just one facet of it.”

“I’m as gay as a daffodil, my dear!”

-Freddie Mercury

The Museum of Black Civilizations

Happy 2023 and year of the Rabbit! I am sad to say my holidays were marred by an illness of unknown cause, a risk of travelling to any new geography where one’s own immune system is naïve to the local microbes. However, I’m bouncing back and getting my new year groove. My first tourist visit for the year was to Le Musée des civilisations noires, and now I’m here to share it with you.

If I could describe the Museum of Black Civilizations after my visit in one word, it would be: aspirational. The museum itself is an enormous building with — as one might say to a child who’s pants need to be rolled up — room to grow. I was initially disappointed with the experience because it has so much hype, but after doing some follow up research online about the history, I’m a little more impressed, and a lot more sad.

It opened in late 2018 with a substantial contribution from China to the tune of $34 million (an especially revealing number since the estimated construction costs were 30mil?) and was built with over 150,000 ft2 (14,000m2) of space over 4 floors to display more than 18,000 exhibits (I have no idea how they reach that number given the varity of size and display needs, but that’s what they say). In 2019 it was hailed on TIME’s list of the World’s 100 Greatest Places.

The museum was built in large part to give a big middle finger to the French (and other colonial countries that … I tried to find a nicer word, but … r*ped the continent). For context, there’s a lot of pushback from European museums about returning the looted treasures and artworks of colonized African cultures. They argue that without sufficient quality display areas like climate controlled museums that it would be irresponsible to return the fragile artworks to the countries they were stolen from. This is a real hot-button issue with lots of discussion about what constitutes ownership and stewardship, especially when discussing artifacts that affect all of humanity like early hominid remains or artifacts that were looted by rival tribes/kingdoms well before they were stolen by colonial masters, but the way I see it, if you just took that thing from someone’s great-grandpa less than 200 years ago and his family is still there, it really should not be a debate.

Regardless, the construction of Museum of Black Civilizations was meant to allay all the concerns that the artifacts would not be properly cared for or displayed in Senegalese stewardship, and France made some conciliatory noises that they would work on giving stuff back. Then before that could be finalized, “ohhhh global pandemic, hands are tied, guess we can’t now”. Fast forward to 2023 and that museum is like a grocery store after a storm alert – empty.

The Ground Floor

The first thing you see (aside from the vast empty space) is “The Saga of the Baobab,” a metallic tree by the Haitian artist Edouard Duval-Carrié in the center of a display about the cradle of humanity aka the “Out of Africa” hypothesis which shows strong evidence that modern day humans evolved in and migrated from the African continent something like 300,000 years ago. There’s debate about this too (I don’t mean creationism) because some fossil evidence has been shown that other versions of humans existed in other places around the world as much as 1.8m years ago. I get a headache when I try to follow the scientific debate because all the versions of hominid are based on bone fragments and mitochondrial DNA. I don’t blame the museum for sticking to a single scientific hypothesis in their presentation, but I was a little let down by the presentation itself.

The vast majority of the exhibit is printouts and blocks of text (French only!) on the walls with a few scraps of skeletal remains under glass. I strongly doubt that these are actual remains since it is the standard practice of museums everywhere to put replicas on display because of the delicate nature of the bones. It’s a cool story to tell, from the origin of the first bipedal apes through “Lucy” and on to the Neanderthal and Cro-Magnon, but it didn’t seem especially unique. One thing I was really fascinated by was this Neanderthal skull because it clearly shows that the front teeth are rounded instead of edged. I remember being taught that our front teeth were made for cutting (cone shaped teeth are for puncturing, gripping, tearing hence why all the carnivores have them) and our molars which are more square are for grinding. It made me really curious about the unique tooth shape of the Neanderthal and what that means about their diet. It was neat to see up close.

The other feature(?) of the first floor was the contribution of African cultures to science and technology. When the greeter at the door told me about this I was really excited. I feel like this is a very under-taught area of global history, and I strongly hoped to learn some things. Even after this, I still hope there are things to learn. However, the exhibit was a real let down. While the cradle of humanity section was maybe 60% wall of text and photos, the “science and technology” section was easily 99%. In addition, other than the origin of smelting iron (a huge contribution to human culture, no doubt) most of the rest of it was limited to Egyptian contributions which could be argued to be a part of the Greek Classical world. I stan negritude and black excellence, but I want to see more than “Egypt did a lot of cool stuff” when we talk about the history of African contributions! Also a museum heralded as one of the best in the world and maybe the best on the continent needs more 3d models. Printing a Wikipedia page on the wall does not a museum exhibit make.

The Next Floor

The elevator lets you out at a room full of recovered pan-African artifacts. Which is… cool? I guess? I know it’s the museum of “black civilizations” so all of Africa and the diaspora included, but I am curious as to how many of the countries whose artifacts are on display gave them willingly? With all the controversy about France putting stolen Senegalese artifacts on display in their museums, I expected more Senegalese focus here. I also would have liked to see some “graciously donated by…” or “on loan from…” signs on those foreign artifacts to reflect the value of only displaying other culture’s property with permission. I was also let down by the lack of context for the items on display. Most of them only came with a card saying something like “mask from Nigeria” with the materials and size listed. Nothing about when it was made, what it was used for, how it related to the culture at the time or now or anything. It was fun to look at, but it left me with a bit of an empty feeling.

The next section was called “Les Appropriations 2022-2023” and was about the presence of monotheism (Judaism, Christianity and Islam) in Africa. I am interested in this kind of thing, but it was hard for me to get through when again 70%+ of the display is a printed a Wikipedia article on the wall in French. The most interesting part of the exhibit on Judaism was a photo of African (black) men in yarmulkes. Christianity was mostly about Egypt (the Coptics) with a few references to the African officiants appointed by the Catholic Church. I was most interested in the Islam section since I know sub-Saharan Islam is quite different from Arabic/North African Islam. I even captured all the French text to peruse at my leisure later with Translate to help me, but it was still really basic. I actually think the Wikipedia entry on Sufism has more information. Also, since Islam is pretty iconoclastic there was an even higher ratio of wall-text to object display in that section. There was a whole wall dedicated to the teachings of Sheik Ahmadou Bamba who is a really fascinating historical figure in the fight for Senegalese independence, but if I had not known that about him before going to the museum, I wouldn’t have figured it out from the display.

ART

The next section was the highlight of my experience at the museum. However disappointing the first floor was, the modern art section made up for it in spades. The “Africa Now 2022-2023” exhibit was stunning. Everything I dreamed of for a beautiful modern African art exhibit was turning it out. Art that really made me feel things and think things and go WOOOOOW. 

The very first painting at the entry was just a punch in the gut, but so beautifully done.

Yrneh Gabon BROWN, Troubled Waters, mixed medium

I enjoyed a range of colors, materials, styles and subject matters, and as with all modern art, I didn’t “get” all of it. I tried to capture a few of the ones that either reached out to me or just were photogenic. The huge wall mural was only ‘meh’ to me until I got up close and realized it was made of a mix of African print fabric scraps and garbage, which made it suddenly a huge statement about the trash problem I’ve been noticing literally every time I walk outside. Trash isn’t only a local problem. A lot of the “developed” aka rich countries in the world export their trash to poor countries, so basically there are places around the world being paid (not much) to become our landfills. The practice is slowing down mostly because the countries receiving the garbage are saying “no more”.

There was also a field of oversized cotton made of metal and … cotton. I know it’s oversized because I used to live in a place where I drove through cotton fields on the regular, I know how tall it grows. This cotton was enormous and I think the choice of size and material really spoke to the impact of the cotton industry on the slave trade and the decimation of Africa as well as to the diaspora.

If there is ONE artist you look up after reading this let it be Malaika Dotou Sankofa. I don’t know why these jumped into my soul the way they did, but these photographs are amazing. The juxtaposition of African prints and western clothes, the angel in broken and shabby environments, and sure the model is easy on the eyes too.

Environmental Awareness

The last section of the museum was a corner dedicated to environmental awareness called l’incivisme or “incivility” that opened in December of 2022. It had informative displays and photos about environmental preservation projects like the great green wall (a multinational effort to plant trees and ground cover along the border of the Sahara desert to keep it from expanding). There were displays about pollution, garbage, over harvesting lumber, lack of clean water, traffic congestion, noise pollution, and public hygiene. It suggested a strong sense of self-reflection and a desire to improve living conditions in Senegal and on the continent in general. It makes me happy to know that there’s a local movement about it, but also a bit sad that it’s relegated to a tiny space at the top corner of the displays.

I also went up to the third floor just to see if I could. It looked like maybe it was used for meetings or celebrations. It was quite empty, but I could see a stage and risers as well as a lot of blank walls that hoped to receive more art someday. There was a nice balcony with a cute view, but it felt very surreal being in this vast space that remained totally unused 4+ years after the museum opened.

Like most of Dakar, Senegal, and West Africa that I’ve experienced so far, the museum of black civilizations was a mixed bag – I’m glad to have the experience, but most of the feelings I come away with are difficult and heavy. I’ve been to a lot of museums in my life from the Smithsonian to tiny hole-in-the-wall unairconditioned rooms in the backwaters. I know that money can go a long way, but in the end the displays need to be unique, interesting, and educational. I am glad that Dakar has this building because it’s the first step in the reclamation of their historical treasures, but right now, the museum is more a testament about what black civilizations have lost rather than a display of their achievements. Hopefully it will live up to it’s aspirations someday.

The Body Keeps the Score, Bessel van der Kolk

This remains one of my favorite books for trauma recovery. I read it right after CPTSD: Surviving to Thriving, so close that they seemed like one big book. I finally had a chance to re-read it almost a year later. Those wait times at the public library are intense, but I guess I’m glad so many people are reading this kind of book, especially during COVID. This book currently lives in my top 5 list for therapy books, and I highly recommend reading them together like I did, as they are very complementary. This post is very long because this book is very full of important ideas. I hope you stick with it.

Bessel van der Kolk is a very accomplished and experienced psychiatrist and researcher in the area of trauma. He started working with Vietnam veterans in the 1970s (before PTSD was a known diagnosis) and has been instrumental in hundred of studies and research projects to better understand the impact of both single traumatic events and long term traumatic exposure. His work with war veterans led him to understand how childhood trauma was both similar and different from combat trauma, and he has been vital to the understanding of CPTSD. He is an expert the experts defer to. “The Body” was published in 2014, so it’s fairly up to date as far as technology and research techniques described.

This post is so much longer than other book reviews because the book itself covers so much. It tells the history of understanding and treatment of trauma. It explains the scientific studies used to advance that understanding and treatment. It addresses the social, political, and economic barriers to the study, understanding, and treatment. It shares case studies of individuals suffering from and recovering from trauma. It shares statistics of the staggering number of people who have been traumatized in one way or another in life. It addresses the critical link between “mind, brain, and body” in how trauma affects us and how we heal from it. And it looks into a range of treatment options, explaining how and why they work, or don’t. Yet somehow, Van der Kolk does all of this in a casual and personal narrative style that carries the reader through his life’s work in a compelling and interesting way.

Just My Highlights

There’s no way for me to even try to summarize everything that Van der Kolk talks about here. I won’t do it justice. I stress again how worthwhile a read this is for everyone. Understanding trauma and the historical, social, and political context of cycles of abuse is the only way we will ever make changes. There some standout points that I want to zero in on for my review, and some opinions I’m squeezing in because this might be my last therapy book review post.

The Historical Cycle of Trauma and Suppression

Hysteria and Sexual Abuse

In the mid-late 1800’s some ‘scientists’ named Jean-Martin Charcot and Pierre Janet were studying hysteria. Although a lot of the people diagnosed with hysteria were women, there were also cases of “hysterical blindness”, “hysterical paralysis”, memory loss, and a host of strange behaviors that occurred in people across the gender/age spectrum. At first, Charcot was looking for a physical cause, but when he was unable to find one, he turned to hypnosis, and came to the conclusion that all these problems were being caused by the repressed memory of traumatic events.

Freud came along and got really into finding out what those traumatic events were and got deep into talk therapy, actually listening to his clients (not something doctors had done before). He determined that the young women suffering in this way were all suffering as a result of sexual abuse at the hands of an older male relative. He thought he had a great breakthrough, until he realized that it would mean that a huge number of the well respected men in Vienna would be guilty of raping their daughters and nieces, including his own father. He thought that maybe the promiscuous FRENCH could be doing that, but he just couldn’t countenance that his own Viennese men could be doing the same. He backpedaled and changed his theory, placing the blame on the girls as “seducers” of their fathers and uncles.

World War I & Shell Shock

Then a few short years later, as WW1 came around, and there were British soldiers having weird symptoms after battle. The term “shell shock” was coined and some scant treatment began. However, as the tide of the war shifted against the British, the top brass decided that “shell shock” was just a coward’s excuse. That “real men” don’t break down from a little light war trauma, and they banned the use of the word in any documents. Some soldiers were arrested, imprisoned and even executed because they had trauma that no one in charge wanted to believe in.

There were plenty of doctors pleading to be allowed to study and treat it, but the gag order was politically expedient to win the war. Another generation was blamed for exhibiting symptoms of trauma that those in power had caused. In America, the WW1 vets had it a little better for a brief moment. They were temporarily greeted as heroes and awarded combat bonuses, the money to be given as a delayed payout. When the depression hit, the veterans rallied in DC to ask for their bonuses so they could afford housing and food. The police and army were sent in to scatter them and burn their camps. Congress voted to never give the vets their money, and they were left to fend for themselves as a new crop of young men were lined up for the slaughter of the next big war.

World War II, Vietnam & PTSD

WW2 of course went through just about the same thing. Suddenly “shell shock” was rediscovered to be real. It was even treated for a hot minute before being dismissed again when the reality of the extreme damage being done to a generation of people in the name of war turned out to be too big a price tag for the law-makers at home. Generals and politicians would much rather believe that men and women are faking it, or fragile, or damaged in some way that the leadership cannot be held accountable for. It wasn’t until the Vietnam veterans came back that we finally started to see a break the cycle of discover and repress. PTSD is now a well recognized condition, but the battle isn’t over. It’s currently recognized almost exclusively for combat veterans, with some exceptions for civilians in war, major catastrophes like the 9-11 building collapses, or devastating natural disasters.

Van der Kolk and his associates, however, found that trauma comes far more frequently and affects far more people than this commonly accepted understanding of PTSD can encompass. In addition, the results of ongoing or repeated trauma, of childhood trauma, or of sexual trauma may have many similarities to PTSD as described in the DSM, but it’s not 100% the same and more importantly, the treatments are not equally effective. These discoveries led doctors like Van der Kolk to advocate for a new diagnoses in the DSM:  Disorders of Extreme Stress Not Otherwise Specified (DESNOS) aka Complex-PTSD, or CPTSD for short.

The DSM is BROKEN

What is the DSM? Some of you may know it well, others may be totally confused. DSM stands for Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders and it’s the big book of Mental Health. Doctors and insurance companies use the DSM for diagnosis and treatment, but in America anyway, more importantly MONEY. Insurance will not cover a diagnosis or treatment that is not listed in the DSM. This gets tangled up very quickly, because when health and money meet in a room, health loses every time. I can’t even scratch the surface of everything that is wrong with the American DSM model, but in regards to PTSD and CPTSD the main problem is that they are NOT the same.

Multiple studies have shown over and over that they are not the same, and that treatments for one do not work for the other (or may work, but less effectively). As a result of this, people who are suffering from prolonged traumatic exposure get diagnosed with: ADD, ADHD, GAD/anxiety, depression, bipolar, BPD/borderline personality, anorexia, bulimia, OCD, alcoholism, drug addiction, and a bunch of other acronyms because the doctor is trying to address their symptoms in a way that fits the DSM. The best case scenario is that they do this because they know the insurance won’t pay for it if it doesn’t match the book. The worst case is that they simply do not believe any diagnosis not in the book is real.

DSM 5 Defines Trauma

I did some extra reading about the DSM, since van der Kolk only mentions the failed attempt to get CPTSD into the DSM 4 in 1994, and we are currently on DSM 5. I wanted to know if any progress was made. The answer is unfortunately, not really… They did expand the diagnostic criteria for PTSD, and added a “children under 6” category, but it’s still not going to cover most people in the CPTSD range.

What is considered “trauma” by the DSM is extremely limited : “The person was exposed to: death, threatened death, actual or threatened serious injury, or actual or threatened sexual violence”. It fails to reflect any of the studies of long term exposure to many other types of trauma, such as the ACE study, nor has any relation coercive control style abuse.

I discovered another diagnostic manual called the ICD-11 (International Classification of Diseases) has added a separate category for CPTSD. The bad news is that it is very limited in scope. It still focuses on exclusively horrific traumatic circumstances where escape is unlikely, like torture, genocide, slavery, etc. “Prolonged domestic violence” is there, but not well defined. There remains no reference to the coercive control or psychological control that prohibits escape, nor of issues like systemic racism or medical trauma. In addition, it requires flashbacks (intrusive memories & images) as a symptom, which are common in PTSD, but according to most experts, not in CPTSD where emotional flashbacks (which lack a visual component) are more common.

Treating a Symptom Instead of a Cause

Without the ability to get a correct diagnosis for the underlying cause, many CPTSD sufferers are limited to receiving treatment only for their symptoms, so while these people may experience relief of symptoms while under treatment, their suffering resumes as soon as that treatment stops. Not only is this a massive healthcare disservice, but it’s contributing to a huge waste of money. Traumatized individuals are unable to function in a healthy way, and often need government resources for chronic health issues, job loss, and criminal behavior. (if you need more proof of this, read the book)

Additionally, some of what are seen as “problems” might really be “solutions” within the context of trauma. An alcoholic is not merely physically addicted to alcohol; their drinking is a self prescribed treatment to forget some pain they are unprepared to deal with or in some cases even acknowledge. The same can be true for any addiction including gambling, drugs, sex or food. In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts by Gabor Maté is an excellent exploration into the traumatic roots of addiction including socially prized addictions like overworking.

Obesity is another great example of why we can’t just treat symptoms. It is a major health epidemic in modern America, but if people are overeating as a trauma response, a defense mechanism, or to self-sooth, then no diet/exercise program will ever be successful until the core wound is healed. Van der Kolk explains that many obese patients also have a history of sexual molestation, assault, or abuse. Others may have been bullied or beaten up when they were small, and may feel strong and powerful by being larger than anyone else in the room. They feel safe from future assault or abuse because of the extra weight.

Of course, most people suffering this are not consciously aware of this in the mind. They do not think “fat will protect me” as they have another scoop of ice cream. They just feel better when they eat, so they eat. When they go to a doctor for help, it should not only be about diet, exercise, or surgery, but should include a look for deeper mental health causes that lie at the root of addiction issues. The problem with that is, as long as the DSM and major health organizations refuse to recognize that systemic social problems and resultant trauma are causing all these health problems, patients will continue to be misdiagnosed, mistreated, and inevitably blamed and shamed when their incorrect treatment fails.

The Cycle Isn’t Broken

My takeaway from all of this, the history and the DSM, and stories in the book of how van der Kolk and his associates were thwarted from doing research or having that research recognized, is that we have not escaped the cycle of notice and repress. We are still as a society unwilling to recognize that parents, caretakers, leaders and other people who are supposed to love and protect us are the deep root cause of untold amounts of pain and suffering. Crime, violence, illness, and death are all linked to childhood and domestic trauma, yet we can’t even properly diagnose or treat it. We’re looking for ways to blame the victims, a faulty gene or just a lack of moral fiber, but heavens forfend we look hard at ourselves and see the damage that our blindness is causing.

So many of the books I’ve read on this journey talk about the fact that trauma is caused by what the brain perceives as a threat, not what is objectively a threat or agreed upon by society to be a threat. Limiting PTSD and CPTSD diagnoses and treatment to people who have experienced “bad enough” trauma by someone else’s standards is part of the denial and suppression cycle. Of COURSE genocide and sexual slavery are undeniably horrible. OF COURSE the people who experience that are traumatized. What Van der Kolk and many others are trying to show us is that trauma is neither rare nor limited to such obvious horrific sources — that in reality, trauma is widespread and pervasive in the world, and that it comes from places we don’t want to see.

Although the scientific and ethical advances of the last 40 years enable us to look back at the hysterical women or the shell shocked soldiers and finally recognize the injustice done to them, we are not immune to selective blindness and denial. Just like Freud could not admit his own father or other “respectable” men of the city were committing atrocities on their own daughters, just like the generals could not accept that the decision to send young men into war was dooming their minds as well as their bodies, modern society struggles to accept that parents, teachers, lovers, doctors, and bosses are responsible for traumatizing millions under their care. Being able to admit the reality should not be about blame or retribution, but rather about truth and reconciliation. Until we are willing to face the facts, millions of people will be barred from true healing, and inevitably pass their pain on by traumatizing others in continued generational cycles.

Mind, Brain, Body

The other main takeaway of this book is the way in which the brain and body interact. Van der Kolk refers to a triad of “mind, brain, and body”, which has some nice literary overtones, the rule of three is a popular way to go. It also, I think, helps people to bridge a previously unbridgeable gap between mind and body. Starting with Aristotle and made ‘accepted fact’ by Descartes, a lot of people for a large part of history have believed that the “mind” is a totally separate thing from the “body”. Despite the fact that Descartes was a philosopher and had no physical or medical evidence to support his theory, it was so pervasive in the minds of the educated men that when modern medicine made the scene, no one really thought to challenge this “accepted fact”. At most, doctors believed that while the mind may be able to exert some control over the body through conscious effort or willpower, that the feed was strictly one way. ‘Mind over matter”, right? Wrong.

Advances in Science Change Our Understanding

As the study of neurology really came into its own in the 1990s, we got to learn all kinds of amazing stuff about how the brain works. The brain is a physical organ that runs on chemical and electrical reactions and controls the body, more or less. But… it is also where the mind resides. We still haven’t found the “seat of consciousness” in the brain, because it turns out that what makes us “us” is a very complex system of electro-chemical reactions, only a very small amount of which we are aware of at any time.

Start by thinking of your “mind” as the part that does the thinking (your “self”, your autobiographical memory, your inner monologue, and such); and your “brain” as the gray stuff inside your skull that releases hormones and neurotransmitters, and handles the auto-pilot for all the organs you can’t be bothered to think about (what does a spleen actually do? Your mind doesn’t know, but your brain does); and then your body is everything else. Then you can start to see where van der Kolk is going with this triad, but it’s not really three separate things, it’s more like three concentric circles. The mind, after all, resides in the brain, and the brain resides in the body. They are connected intimately and they are inseparable, and the flow of information goes in all directions.

We think of our body as being under our mind’s control, yet, that’s barely true. You don’t control most of your organs. You can hold your breath for a bit, and control your toilet needs for a short time, but other than that, you can’t really interfere with the body’s functions. Moving my fingers along the keyboard is a conscious effort of my mind, but if there’s an unexpected loud noise while I’m working, I will flinch and look around well before I’m aware of doing so. My “mind” doesn’t make that decision, my brain and body get on about it without me.

In fact, there is a lot that happens in our bodies that affect our brains, and then in turn change the way we think. For one example, the vagus nerve is a large nerve road that leads up from the gut into the brain, but most of the information that travels along it is not sending instructions down from the brain, but instead is sending information up from the guts/abdomen/lungs/heart to the brain. Van der Kolk examines the way in which mental health issues manifest in the body, and even more cool, how engaging the body in therapeutic techniques can help to heal mental health.

The Body Manifests the Damage of the Mind

In addition to the long list of mental health issues that can result from unrecognized PTSD or CPSTD, there are a lot of body health issues that can crop up as well. We can all think of physical reactions to stress like an upset stomach, or a headache, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg. As the trauma goes untreated and often suppressed or ignored, the body takes up the symptoms. Thus, the name of the book: The Body Keeps the Score. Things like asthma, chronic fatigue, chronic pain, epilepsy, obesity, diabetes, heart disease and cancer are all common body reactions to long standing traumatic suffering. The ACE study (Adverse Childhood Experiences) done with the CDC and Pfizer found that people with an ACE score of 4 or more had a much much higher incidence of all these physical health issues*. That means that the more types of trauma children suffer at home, the more likely they are to be sick as adults.

*NOTE: the ACE study is not a diagnostic tool. It was a study of trends over a population and should not be taken as an indication for any individual. Many contributing factors for trauma and recovery are not accounted for in ACE. Not all children who experience multiple ACEs will have poor outcomes, and not all children who experience no ACEs will avoid poor outcomes—a high ACEs score is simply an indicator of greater risk

I was personally struck by the chronic fatigue and pain issues because I struggled with both while I was still a teenager living in my mother’s house. In the end, I was told I had fibromyalgia: a diagnosis that is based on patient’s reported symptoms and a lack of evidence for any other clinical diagnosis. I had many other health problems while under the control of my parents that diminished as I gained independence and distance, only to return in other stressful times of my life.

It’s All In Your Mind, But Not The Way You’ve Been Told

“Psychosomatic” is a word that is far too often used as a synonym for “imaginary”, and yet, that’s not what it means. Psycho means “of the mind” and somatic “of the body” so, yes, it means that a bodily symptom is caused in the mind rather than from an outside agent like a virus, bacteria, tumor, etc. Chronic illness sufferers frequently have physical symptoms ignored, dismissed, and even been accused of making things up for attention. Far too many medical professionals are stuck in an outdated model of medicine in which the mind and body are separate, and must be treated separately, so that if no evidence of illness exists in the body, then they believe no illness exists. Have you ever told your doctor something hurts only to have them say, “well, it shouldn’t” or worse “no, it doesn’t”?

As I read this book, I began to see the connection between my original trauma, my trauma triggers, and my health issues, and I gained validation for my rejection of the idea that any of my physical issues are “all in my head” in the standard western medicine pejorative use of the phrase. I learned a new way of understanding what “in my head” really means. Van der Kolk and his associates have conducted a number of studies that demonstrate that the physical symptoms generated by traumatic stress are real, and they can be healed by addressing that trauma. It may be “in our mind”, but it’s also in our brain and in our body because those three concepts are not truly separate.

How To Heal Trauma

Professional Help

Most professionals in PTSD/CPTSD agree that it is necessary to access and integrate traumatic memories in order to heal. Up until very recently, the primary way to do this has been talk therapy: a specialist helping to guide a patient to talk about the traumatic experience and then guide them into placing it in the past. Exposure therapy and hypnosis have also been used with alternating success. Hypnosis got a bad rap for supposed “planted memories”, and that turned out to be mostly media hype, but the damage is done. Exposure therapy can work for some things, but a lot of trauma survivors end up being re-traumatized by exposure therapy, not healed. Talk therapy has the best track record, but it’s hard because you have to form a trust-based relationship with a trained therapist which takes a lot of time and money.

There are a few other therapies that need to be done by a professional that use the brain body connection. One of these is EMDR (eye movement desensitization and reprocessing), it uses bicameral stimulation to help patients access traumatic memories and to integrate them into the proper context. EMDR is not hypnosis; it does not require a trusting relationship nor rely on the doctor to uncover or interpret anything, and it has a pretty good success rate with very low recidivism. It works better on PTSD than CPTSD, and better in adult onset trauma than for childhood trauma. No one really knows why the bicameral stimulation works this way. The leading theory is that it simulates a sleep state (REM) when the brain sorts memories out of the “now” bin (hippocampus) and into the “past” bin (neocortex). Memory integration is a normal function of sleep, but traumatic memories are often stuck in the “now” bin, which is why they still feel so urgent. I know the chances of it working for me are not great, but I would still like to try it if I ever get the opportunity.

Another method is neurofeedback. Using an EEG to measure brainwaves, doctors can show patients what various parts of their own brains are doing by translating the brainwaves into audio or video signals. Then the patient can learn to control certain types of brainwave activity through a kind of trial and error while getting easy to understand feedback from the music or video. Being able to hear/see our own brainwaves gives us a concrete goal to focus on and enables us to use the mind to control the brain.

The last one examined in the book is “psychodrama“, which sounds like what you go through with your crazy ex, but it’s actually a kind of theater therapy. Actors and doctors worked together to create a variety of programs to help trauma survivors process their feelings. It can give patients a way to roleplay out experiences in a safe environment, thus getting resolution to previous instances, or plan on how to handle future triggers. It can help patients find words they need to express their feelings, or it can even provide words when the patients cannot find their own. An episode of the medical drama New Amsterdam showed the hospital psychiatrist making vets with PTSD put on a performance of one of Sophocles’ plays about a soldier abandoned by the military after being wounded. It is not a medically accurate TV show, but it was cool to see psychodrama being used in pop media, and that particular play is actually used in psychodrama therapy in real life to help soldiers process feelings of loss and betrayal in therapy for PTSD.

Self-Help

The big message of this book is that our mind, brain, and body are inextricably interconnected. We can’t treat symptoms without treating the cause. In order to heal, we must heal all three together. The mind-body connection flows both ways. The mind can make the body sick, but the body can also heal the mind. If you can’t afford or even find a therapist who is knowledgeable in CPTSD or the techniques listed above, you can do body work on your own.

Body work, or somatic therapy, is a way that trauma survivors can learn to feel safe and present in our own bodies again. Things like massage, yoga, meditation, dance, or tai chi can all help a trauma survivor to re-establish a healthy mind-body connection and learn how to listen to the signals of the body again. It’s not necessary to do those activities with any particular focus on your trauma because the benefit comes from establishing a deep connection between your mind, brain, and body, and these activities on their own have been shown to reduce symptoms of depression, anxiety, invasive thoughts, emotional dysregulation, and executive dysfunction when done regularly over time. 

It’s hard to believe that something so simple (and free) can have such a large impact on our mental and physical health, but if you’re struggling, then it can’t hurt to try. There are tons of free YouTube videos, apps and games for the phone, and even a few gaming systems that take all the guesswork out of what to do, just follow along for 10-20 minutes at a time. A quick Google search will turn up dozens, but here are the ones I use:

Yoga: I enjoy going through this 30 day challenge because it’s a little different every day, and I don’t get bored. It’s ok to skip activities that hurt or are too hard.

Grounding/Mindfulness app: PTSD Coach was designed for veterans and is sponsored by the VA, but you don’t have to be a vet to use it. Even though it’s aimed at combat PTSD, many of the free activities are good for anyone in need of more grounding and mindfulness.

The Tripp app on Oculus Quest: I know not everyone can afford a gaming system, but if you happen to already have one in your home, this is a stunning audio-visual experience that makes daily meditation and breathing exercises a real joy.

If you’re like me, and you want to see the science behind why this works, then there’s no better place to start than this book.

Memorial Day Weekend: Korea Edition

Yes I’ve been radio silent almost a year. Maybe I’ll write about why someday, but the important thing is, I’m ok and I’m slowly starting some new adventures. Thanks for being here always!

In Korea, Memorial Day (현충일) is June 6th, a week later than my American friends and family celebrate the memory of our soldiers with lavish summer backyard barbeques, overt displays of patriotism, and caring about disabled vets for a few days out of the year. I’ve never really noticed any block party style celebrations of Memorial Day in Korea, as it seems to be a more solemn day, but of course, everyone loves a three day weekend, so I expect there will be lots of people going out and enjoying the beautiful weather we are having. There are also official memorial ceremonies at military graveyards and Korean War Memorial sites. But why after 6+ years of living in Korea am I just now choosing to write a Memorial Day post?

(UN Memorial Cemetery in Busan, Gallivantrix 2016)

Connected to my last several posts and my year long absence from the blog, I have recently been digging into my own family history. I’ve always known that my paternal grandfather was an ace pilot, and that his general age range put him as “probably served in Korea?” but I never had any facts. My grandfather died when my father was only 10, and as a result, my father has shared fairly limited information about him with me. Since Korean Memorial Day is all about those who fought and died for the Republic of Korea, that means that the vast majority of the focus is on the Korean War (1950-53), so I’m going to tell you about my grandfather, Captain Kenneth D. Chandler.

My grandfather was actually born in Canada, which came as a surprise to me, in 1923. Then his family lived in Arizona and southern California, answering some questions about my father’s family diaspora. Even though they moved around with the military, and I know they were stationed in Hawaii in 1948, because my dad was born there, it seems my grandfather never stopped loving the American southwest. My grandmother lived in Arizona until she died and my dad took me on trips all over the southwest on our family vacations.

I knew that his family was Mormon (LDS) and that he had left the church because when I was driving across America with my father to move to Seattle, we stopped in Salt Lake and found his name in the big Mormon Book of Families (not actually what they call the book). I remember feeling that it was very strange, since he had chosen to leave, and yet the church insisted on praying him into heaven after his death. I suppose that’s kinder than praying his soul into hell, but still kind of creepy. On more than one occasion, the LDS Chandlers have sent me mail. They still track out family tree, but since I have no kids, and I’m my father’s only child, there’s really nothing left here for them to track.

On October 25, 1942, my grandparents were married. Kenneth was 19, and Rose was 16. I can only assume they rushed an early wedding so that Kenneth could could go to war and Rose would not be left with nothing if he died because my grandfather’s military career also began in 1942. I haven’t yet found details of his military record for WWII, but I do know that he was a fighter pilot and flew in Europe. When he returned alive, he and Rose had three children (1946 uncle B, 1948 dad, 1950 aunt M) two of whom I have never met. I’m told that he was a fairly distant father, which is a bit sad, but hardly surprising given that something in his childhood caused him to cut ties with the church and by implication the rest of his family, and that fact that he likely already suffered some form of PTSD by the time his first child was born, and definitely by the time he returned to his family after the Korean War. (I did say I was doing this research for generational trauma healing purposes, right?)

I had already known he was an ace pilot in the Air Force, because my father’s own air force career (not a pilot) was inspired by his father’s. The Air Force family way of life was a pretty big deal in both my homes growing up, as my step-father was also Air Force. I went to air shows, and military parades, and there’s really nothing quite like the 4th of July on a military base. I also had the benefit of travelling widely as a child, and getting early exposure to different cultures and value systems. Although I decided the military was not for me, I think it had a strong impact on who I am as a person, both in my globetrotting tendencies and in many of my morals and ethics. It’s hard to imagine nowadays, but I was instilled with the ideals as a kid, and that sort of thing stays with you.

I had further suspected that my grandfather fought in the Korean war, but had no details. The internet, however, provides a near endless resource of information and human connection. Koreanwar.org is a website that connects survivors, veterans, and civilian aides from the war. When I searched for my grandfather’s name, I found a message from 2006, practically next door to where I was living that year. Yun-Kuk (Ted) Kim wrote:

City and State: Edmunds WA
Service or Relationship: friend of a veteran
Comments: Captain Kenneth D. Chandler shot down a MIG-15 in North Korea in December 1951 over Cho-do area. His aircraft, however, was disabled by a MIG’s debree [sic] ingested into his F-86’s engine, knocking it out. He bailed out over the off-shore island of Cho-do. I was stationed there with a US Air Force combat intelligence unit as an interpreter. I happened to be on the beach that day, supervising unloading of a US Navy landing craft. When I saw a Sabre pilot bail out over the Cho-do Bay, I and another Korean airman rowed out into the bay in a row-boat and waited for him. When Capt. Chandler (probably) fell into the water, we grabbed him and pulled him into the boat. We rowed him to a waiting US Navey [sic] helicopter and delivered him to safety and home. I am looking for Capt. Chandler if he is the one I rescued and if he is still alive. (He should be between 85 to 90 years old now.) Appreciate any help. Ted Kim, Edmonds, WA.

Entry 57095 May 10, 2006
https://www.koreanwar.org

Fam, I was shook, and strangely involuntary tears came to my eyes as I read the words of this man who had pulled my grandfather from the sea. It’s not quite as time travellery as that my father would not be born without him, since my father was 3 years old when this happened. Nonetheless, to see that there was a Korean man who touched my family so closely had lived so near to me (I was in Seattle at the time, and regularly drove in and out of Edmonds which is a part of the greater metropolitan area), and that here I am now in Korea looking at his words. I wish I could visit Cho-do bay, but sadly it’s north of the 38. Also, sadly, there’s no email for Ted (김윤국), and I can’t extend to him my multigenerational thanks. Luckily(?) someone replied to Ted later that year to let him know about Captain Chandler’s death.

Thanks to the extra research of a friend after reading this post the first time, I now know that he flew alongside Colonel Dayton Ragland, the only African American to shoot down a MiG-15 in the Korean War. On November 18, just a few weeks before he was pulled from the sea, my grandfather and then Lieutenant Ragland strafed an airfield destroying at least 4 MiGs and damaging 4 more. Although at the time, the destroyed MiGs were all credited to Captain Chandler, I suspect that’s not entirely accurate. Ten days later Ragland shot down the MiG that earned him his only credited shot, and was himself shot down and taken prisoner. Ragland’s story is infinitely amazing, if you want to read more, check out this twitter thread by @hankenstein.

A handful of years ago, when I was visiting my father, he showed me a shadow box he had made of his and my grandfather’s side by side military careers and told me the story of when my grandfather won the Bendix Trophy race.

The Air and Space Museum in D.C. claims that they have the original trophy on display, but my dad says that’s not true, because during the year that it was in his house (1957), my age 9 dad-to-be broke it. One side of the propeller was broken off, and my grandmother had it brazed back together leaving a small bump.

When my then-adult dad had a chance to visit the museum, there was no trace of the damage and repair, so he reasoned it can’t really be the original. A few more tidbits about the race I learned later in my own research: He broke the race’s speed record that day, the previous record was 666 mph, and he flew 679 mph. He was also a wingman to Chuck Yeager in the movie “Jet Pilot” where he flew the plane of the plane of the Russian character Lieutenant Anna Marladovna (Janet Leigh). I don’t know if the two men were friends, but they certainly were colleagues and comrades in arms.

Captain Chandler and 1st Lieutenant Frank Latora, both of the 343d Fighter Group, were killed when their Lockheed T-33A Shooting Star jet trainer crashed 12 miles (19 kilometers) north east of Parker, Colorado, while on a ground-controlled approach to Lowry Air Force Base on the night of Friday, 28 March 1958. Captain Chandler’s remains are buried at Rose Hills Memorial Park, Whittier, California.

Bryan R. Swopes, 2018 http://www.thisdayinaviation.com

My grandmother held on to the Bendix trophy for the next 2 years. She refused to surrender it until there was another winner. There was no official race in 58, 59, or 60, and so no winner was named. I suppose it was a piece of her husband that she didn’t want to relinquish after his death, and she was so determined about it that the race authorities threatened both to remove Captain Chandler from the official record and to put my grandmother in jail before she finally gave up the trophy. Even though she turned it over, the trophy never lived with another family, as it was retired before the next official race in 1961.

My grandfather died tragically at the age of only 33. My dad says he never really got to know his father, who tended to show more interest in the eldest son. Perhaps if he had lived a little longer he would have shepherded his middle child into adulthood, or perhaps he would merely have contributed a different legacy to our family’s generational trauma, but regardless there is no denying that Captain Chandler would certainly have been proud of Colonel Chandler, and I hope of Professor Chandler as well.

This Memorial Day, I remember Captain Kenneth D. Chandler: WWII & Korean War veteran, ace pilot, Bendix Race winner & record setter, and my grandfather. May your memory be a blessing.

Captain Kenneth D. Chandler, with the Bendix Trophy. (Jet Pilot Overseas)

Northern Island: Natural Beauty

Northern Ireland is stunning. I was incredibly lucky to have very nice weather on the days we were exploring the country and the coast, but I can’t imagine it is any less stunning when it’s cloudy and ominous than when it’s sunny and blue and you can see Scotland from the cliffs. This isn’t only wild, untamed scenery. It includes some ruins which have begun to merge with the landscape and some cultivated gardens that show the lovely flowers to their best advantage. In the tradition of saving the best for last, you have to wait till the end to see the Giant’s Causeway.


In Between

There are places in Ireland that everyone wants to go to, me too, but driving from one of those to the next could mean endless hours of highways OR it could mean tiny back roads and mini stop offs to lesser known, but still beautiful sights. Guess which one I chose? Here are a few of the in between places that were added to the itinerary purely because we wanted somewhere to stop between points A and B.

Grianan of Aileach

I almost forgot about this stop. For shame. It was a bit of an afterthought on the day  we visited as well. On the road between the Belleek Pottery factory and the city of Derry, we drove up a little side road to find this ring fort. The view from the top is breathtaking, and it’s just my type of mountain top that you can drive up and park on top! There were not too many other people out, but there was a small cafe style food truck hoping to sell some refreshments. There’s no toilet facilities however, so we declined.

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The fort was built in the late 700s-early 800s, raided by Vikings in the early 900s, and finally destroyed around 1100. The restoration project started in 1870 and is protected and maintained by the Office of Public Works today. It’s one of many tiny little treasures that make driving a much more appealing option to bus tours. We only spent about 15 minutes at the fort, just long enough to gasp at the view and enjoy the archaeology.

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Glenarm & Glenarife

These two stops were along the west coast of Northern Ireland, after we finished the Causeway and before we arrived in Belfast. Glenarm is a beautiful castle estate (not a ruin) with cultivated walled gardens. Genarife is a beautiful forest hike with a waterfall.

Glenarm Castle is related to Dunluce Castle, a ruin located on the Causeway Coast which I’ll get to that later in the post. The story goes that in 1639 as the McDonnell family were waiting for dinner one evening at Dunluce, the kitchen – along with kitchen staff – fell into the sea. After that, the family commissioned a new castle to be built on their land at Glenarm which was finally completed some 80 years later. Viscount and Viscountess Dunluce and their family still live there today. Tours are offered of the public portions of the castle, usually between 12-4pm (although the website gives a lot of COVID closure warnings these days).

While I’m sure the inside of the castle is stunning, we were much more interested in the walled garden on our visit and so I can’t tell you anything else about the home. The garden is well worth the visit, however. It is one of Ireland’s oldest walled gardens and it is impeccably maintained. There are dozens and dozens of beautiful examples of flowers, fruits and vegetables, a lovely miniature maze, a small “mountain”, and multiple lovely statues placed throughout.

The afternoon we visited was quite gray and rainy. We were forced to wear our outer shoe rain booties and carry around umbrellas, but I personally think that raindrops on flowers make for beautiful scenery (and photos) so I wasn’t too upset.

Sidenote: We lost MS Video Maker, then YouTube Video Editor and now Google Photos has decided to make the photo slide shows vertical for some unholy reason, I had to go find a quick and dirty way to make a slideshow. I’m sorry that the quality is a little rough. If one of the hip people could clue me in on what we’re all using these days, I’d really appreciate it.

Glenarife was a bit of a back track for us on the road trip, but we had made the decision to go there second so we could have dinner at the restaurant inside the park. I plan to write a separate post about the food in Ireland, but I want to stress that planning meals on any vacation is really important, but especially on a road trip through the countryside. If you’re staying in a city, it can be easy to just head down any major street and walk into any restaurant that looks interesting. If you’re driving (or busing) around, then taking time to find where there are restaurants and WHEN THEY ARE OPEN can save you a lot of heartache and petrol station snack meals.

There is not a lot in the way of eateries on this particular stretch of the Irish coastline, so when I found the Laragh Lodge attached to a waterfall I was excited to get two birds with one parking lot, so to speak. We arrived at the Lodge around dinner time and were quite surprised to find the place very full. They had a wedding party in. Thankfully, there was a dining room off to the side for the general public, so we could still eat there. Because the day was drawing to a close, we decided to go on our waterfall walk before dinner. Same gray rainy day, still, but the raindrops had mostly stopped.

The trail leads a over a little creek which looked like it was made of Guinness, and up a slight hill. It’s a short walk from the parking lot to the falls. There are longer hikes around the enormous forest park for those who want to spend more time in the great outdoors. I personally was there for the waterfall and the food.

When you look up the Glenarife falls online or go to their website, you see pictures of a pretty little fall with usually 2-3 streams down the broad rock face. When I was there, it had been raining. A lot. No cute trickle of water, not even a stout fall, no — that day, the torrent could be used to power a whole hydroelectric station. Waterfalls release negative ions, which reduce depression and stimulate the brain and body. I know sounds kind of like pseudo-science bunk, but it’s been tested I swear! #waterfallinlove

One Day on the Causeway Coast

The Giant’s Causeway may be the most popular thing on the north coast, but it’s far from the only one. We spent an entire day from dawn to dusk travelling the Causeway Road, visiting both it’s famous and less well known attractions. Technically the Coastal Route extends from Derry to Belfast and would therefore include my stops at Downhill Demesne, Bushmills, and Glenarm, but I am focusing on those parts most immediately surrounding the Giant’s Causeway itself.

Carrick a Rede

The rope bride of Carrick a Rede is often included on a tour of the Giant’s Causeway. After my initial research about things like parking and ticket times, we decided that the best way to do the bridge was very first thing in the morning. There is a parking lot near (1km) from the bridge access, but it’s small and fills up fast. Alternate parking is, of course, farther away. In addition, you must buy tickets in advance and reserve a ticket time. If you miss your window, then you don’t get to go. The bridge can only accommodate so many people at once, so the staff on site work hard to make sure everyone can have a good and safe experience. Weather is also important. As you may have seen in my Aran Islands post, the Irish weather on the coast is extremely fickle, and tourists aren’t able to enter the bridge if the weather makes conditions unsafe.

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I was so happy that our weather was clear and blue. We showed up to the parking lot with plenty of time to walk. We had no trouble parking since we were in the first group. There was a little confusion at the ticket booth, a little bottle neck where we all clustered together waiting for them to let us in already! The other advantage to early morning tickets is that the tour buses almost never show up that early, so those of us who had made this effort really wanted to get the jump.

Finally, our e-tickets were scanned and we started the hike from the gate to the bridge. It’s not a hard hike, but there is an upward incline and many stairs. The great news is that the whole path walks along the cliffs and so you spend the hike up with the view to your left, and the hike down with the view to your right. Almost all the photos I took were on the way back down since we were in a hurry going up.

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The bridge was built by salmon fishermen way back in the day because the little volcanic island had much better fishing than the mainland. The bridge today is purely a tourist attraction, but you can see the remains of the small fishing “village” on the island after you cross. There is a gate at the point where the trail meets the bridge manned by park staff who ensure that the safety measures are followed and to help people who may be nervous. The narrow (one person wide) rope and plank bridge is 100 ft above the sea and sways and wobbles as you walk on it. It is recommended that you and your travel buddies take pictures with the camera holder on solid ground while the other poses on the bridge. There’s no time for perfect Instagram poses, though, because while the staff will let you take a couple snaps, they urge everyone to keep going. Being so narrow, the bridge cannot accommodate cross traffic, and so a small group goes to the island, then when the bridge is clear a small group returns.

I could have spent the whole day on the beautiful little island. It was just such perfect weather and the grass was soft and fresh. I took a small infinity of photos of the sea and the sky, as well as the little flowers and volcanic rocks. It was only with great reluctance that I finally left to get to the next stops on the day’s itinerary.

I found a slightly alternate route back that took me up a little farther and gave some spectacular views down onto the path and island, and I positively delighted in the tiny flowers and busy bees along the cliff-side path on the way back down.

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Dunseverick Castle & Falls

Along the Causeway Road are a large number of small sights. The rope bridge and the Giant’s Causeway are the main stops on every tourist bus tour, and in order to avoid those crowds, we decided to spend the prime tourism hours going to the smaller locales. The first one of these as we drove westward was Dunseverick Castle and Falls. What? Castle ruins and waterfalls? in one place? Twist my arm.

Dunseverick has been a seat of power in Ireland from the 400s! It was a ring fort for a bit, and supposedly visited by St. Patrick himself. Invaded by Vikings, and contested by clans, it was owned by the O’Cahan (anglicized as McCain or O’Kane) family until it was destroyed by CROMWELL (ugh, that guy again) in 1642. All that remains of the castle is the ruins of the gate lodge.

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There’s a long walking trail that also runs alongside the cliffs which some people choose to hike, and you can access the ruins this way. I was not particularly interested in the route from parking spot to ruin, but the falls looked decently close, so I hopped a stile and headed off through the nettles to find a waterfall. It’s not as bad as it sounds. Stiles are meant to be hopped, they’re just ways to step over fences that humans can do but animals can’t. Also, nettles only hurt you if you grab them (which I didn’t) or fall on them (which I did, ouch).

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Nonetheless, the day persisted in being superb and I found the low and wide falls amid the dark brown and black volcanic rock. I don’t think I’ve ever seen falls along the seaside, so while they were a bit short, they made up for that by being unique.

Bushfoot Beach

There are a few “beaches” along the coast as well, but not especially the kind you think of for sandcastles or bathing. We looked for Runkerry Beach, but I wasn’t able to figure out how to get the car there. Bushfoot Beach was adjacent to a golf club so we parked there and meandered down to have a look. It was small, and cute, with a nice bench to sit on and rest. Locals were out walking dogs along the path, and there was a river that came down and flowed into the sea right where we were. It wasn’t a highlight, but it was a beautiful and quiet place to have a little rest before the next stop.

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Dunluce Castle

Sound familiar? Yeah! This is the same Dunluce castle that dropped it’s kitchen and staff into the sea, prompting the McDonnells to move to Glenarm. The McDonnells are not actually Irish, they’re Scottish originally.

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In case it wasn’t abundantly clear by now, I am an absolute sucker for ruins. Literally, if I could take a vacation that was made of waterfalls and ruins with a few good restaurants, I would be in heaven. I try to look up the history and learn things about the ruins I visit. They often have fascinating secrets or at least interesting stories. In the case of Dunluce, the kitchen staff falling into the sea might be the most interesting thing that ever happened to it until it was used by Led Zeplin as album art.

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There were some very informative signs on site, showing artist renditions of what the house and grounds may have looked like when it was alive, and there’s a very dry Wikipedia article about the Earls and the invasions. I could recite that for you, but why? A far more amusing resource is this Belfast Telegraph article. Otherwise, please enjoy the photos!

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Giants Causeway

This is what we’re here for right? If you’ve come all the way to the tippy top of Northern Ireland you are here for THIS and everything else is pretty much frosting and sprinkles. Don’t get me wrong, everything else was wonderful, and I’m extremely grateful that I had the chance to drive myself around to the variety of stops. If you can’t rent a car or don’t want to drive on the left, there are tour buses that go to Carrick-a-Rede, Dunluce, and the Giant’s Causeway in a day, but after having done a driving tour and a bus tour (later) I have to say that driving in Ireland is (mostly) very easy and pleasant and having the freedom is well worth it.

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The Giant’s Causeway is a totally unique geographical formation of honeycomb-like stones reaching from the base of high grassy cliffs out into the sea. These formations are called basalt columns, and are made by lava cooling. As a not-geologist, I can’t really understand, let alone explain why some lava makes pumice, and some makes lava tubes, and some makes these cool hexagonal shapes, but I trust that there are geologists who can. The short and easy version is that something in the molecular makeup of basalt causes it to form cracks in these shapes when it cools rapidly. Probably why these formations are almost always found near water.

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Although the Giant’s Causeway is by far the most famous, there are many other examples of basalt columns around the world, so you can still see them even if you don’t make it here. I was most fascinated to see there’s one here in Korea, on Jeju Island, that looks like a tiny version of the one in Ireland. It’s not a popular tourist attraction yet, so my tour didn’t go there when I visited Jeju several years ago. I’ll look for it if I ever go back.

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Today we understand the science behind these fascinating formations, but when humans first came into the area, they incorporated the stones into the mythology of Ireland. I talked briefly about the pre-history mythology in my Two Irelands post. The beginning of Ireland was fraught with many races of monsters, giants, gods, and fairies, each one supplanted by the next. The 5th race was the Tuatha Dé Danann (from which almost all modern fairies seem to be descended), and the 6th and final were the humans. The stories of Finn McCool (Fionn mac Cumhaill) seem to be set toward the beginning of the humans arrival into Ireland since he fights with giants and at least one of the Tuatha Dé Danann.

The myth, like all myths, is tricky, and not every source agrees on the details. Most of us are more familiar with the Arthurian legends, and as anyone who has tried to sort out the details knows, it’s not possible. So, I’m presenting a vague and “best guess” version of Finn McCool here.

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He was born into if not actual royalty, then the next best thing. His father’s clan was said to be descendants of the Fir Bolg (the 4th race) and his mother was recorded as a granddaughter of the Tuatha Dé Danann. Finn himself became the leader of the Fianna, a kind of warrior band, and had all kinds of fantastic feats attributed to him. You can’t go anywhere in Ireland without finding some piece of local Finn legend. According to the most popular stories, he (like Arthur) is not dead, but merely sleeping in a secret cave and will return in Ireland’s greatest hour of need.

When it comes to the Giant’s Causeway, there are still a few versions of the tale, but the most common involves a Giant named Benadonner. Benadonner was a fierce Scottish warrior and a giant (one of the races previously driven from Ireland). One day Finn challenged him to a fight, but the giant didn’t want to cross from Scotland and made excuses about the sea as an obstacle.

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Finn then built a bridge between Ireland and Scotland. This is one of the closest points between Ireland and Scotland, only about 28 miles to the nearest Scottish peninsula. When the bridge was complete, Finn sent a message to Benadonner that he had no more excuses, so come along and fight me!

20190808_185238However, when Finn saw Benadonner crossing, he realized the giant was much bigger than he previously thought. He fled the coast, retreating into his home. His wife Sadhbh (omg Gaelic, amirite?, that’s probably pronounced “Saive”, maybe?) heard what he’d done and quickly dressed her husband up as a baby.

When Benadonner came to find him, he saw the disguised Finn alone in the house and thought to himself, “If this is the infant, what must the father be like?”, and quickly fled back to Scotland, tearing up the bridge in his haste, leaving only the remnants at either end: The Giant’s Causeway in Ireland, and Fingal’s Cave on the Scottish Isle of Staffa, named for Finn himself. (Although the nearest point is only  28 miles from the Causeway in Ireland, Fingal’s Cave is 82.5 miles as the giant flees).

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Whether you are drawn to the science or the more whimsical heroic tale, there’s no doubt that the natural beauty of the Causeway is breathtaking. We scheduled 4 hours for it and that was barely enough. It’s a hard choice to make as far as what to see in a single day. If I had it to do over, I might have scheduled one day for just the Causeway, and a second day for all the other stops. We planned to arrive around 3pm so that we would be walking in about the time that most of the tour buses were walking out.

I found some shuttle bus information online, but it turned out not to be as accurate as I’d hoped and in the end, we decided that paying for parking at the visitors center was going to be better for us convenience-wise than trying to take the shuttle bus from Bushmills, and honestly only slightly more expensive. If you happen to have a National Trust membership or possibly even a tourist pass, you can get steep discounts on things like the shuttles, the parking and the entry tickets (many are free included), and I also looked into buying that, but since only Northern Ireland is run by the UK National Trust, we just weren’t going to go to enough places to make pass worthwhile. If I were to plan a trip that included even one more day in the UK, I think it would have been.

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The parking lot is enormous and the walkways funnel tourists to the Visitor’s Center. You don’t have to go there. The outdoor parts of the park are FREE (after you pay for parking or the shuttle bus) and the visitor’s center is like 13£. I opted to spend my time and money seeing the sights in person, but I can see if you perhaps had bad weather, the visitor’s center might be appealing.

Another travel blogger advised me to take the red trail from the Visitor’s Center to the Causeway. There is a main road (paved wide road) that goes very directly. People who are in a hurry may use this, and there is another shuttle bus that runs between the Causeway and the Visitor’s center which I think is very nice for those with limited walking ability. However, the red trail leads up along the cliff tops before descending to the sea, and it has some really stunning views. It’s much easier to walk it going down than going up, so starting on the red trail and then using the wide seaside road to return seemed the way to go.

The main trail starts by going through a tunnel near the visitor’s center, while the red trail starts before the tunnel and off to one side. There are signs. It is marked as a more demanding route, but that is only in comparison to the smooth wide paved main path. It’s about a mile (UK, back to imperial not metric!) and there are maybe 100 stairs going down. I thought we could take the shuttle bus back up, but that stops running when the visitor’s center closes at 4pm, so if you are mobility limited, make sure you plan your visit earlier in the day that I did.

The red trail is not for those afraid of heights. It goes along the edge and has some harrowing narrow paths and steep steps on the climb down. I thoroughly enjoyed the walk which included yet more stunning cliff-side views, a million tiny flowers and the little bugs that live in them (one of my favorite subject for photography), and a chance to see the organ pipes formation and the giant’s boot on the way down (something those who take the main path would have to climb up to see).


It was charming to see the tourists delighting in hopping from rock to rock like a childhood game of hopscotch. I climbed as far out to the edge as I could, marveling at the geometrical patterns and the tiny lichens and barnacles living there.

Finally, as dusk loomed, we headed back up the road, enjoying the tide pools and sunset over the water. There’s no doubt in my mind that the Giant’s Causeway is the jewel in the crown of Northern Ireland’s natural beauty and I’m grateful that I was able to experience it on such a beautiful day.

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Myths & Tales from China 07

My entire winter holiday is a zig zag of mental processes, and my random story hopping here is a great reflection of that! Ireland! Taiwan! Ancient Chinese Fairy Tales! It’s all humming around in my head with my real life plans, worries, hopes, and anxieties. Since writing this blog is really a kind of hobby/therapy for me, that means you get whatever topic I find most therapeutic at a given time. It’s a grab-bag. Today, more Dragon King myths, well Dragon King adjacent?


Gao Liang’s Race for Water

Legend has it that Beijing was once a part of the Bitter Sea, and not until later was there dry land. 

Many years ago Beijing was called Youzhou. It was part of the Bitter Sea and was held by the Dragon King. People could only live on the mountains of the western side and northern side. One day, Nezha came to the Bitter Sea Youzhou and began to fight the Dragon King. Finally, he captured the Dragon King and Queen, but he let the Dragon Prince escape. From that time on, the water the water receded and slowly the dry land was revealed.

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In the time following, this piece of dry land had households; villages and towns gradually took shape. Moreover, the escaped Dragon Prince had also changed and become Dragon Duke, and along with (his wife) Dragon Mother, (and their children) Dragon Son and Dragon Daughter, they hid in a lake at the foot of the western mountains, passing their days in total silence. One day, Dragon Duke heard some news: Youzhou would build Beijing City. He indignantly shouted out, “It goes without saying that our Dragon Palace gave people peace, and now they also want to build a city there. its just too much!” Later he also heard it said that Imperial Chancellor Liu Bowen and Yao Guangxiao drew the plans for Beijing Eight-Armed Nezha City and would build Eight-Armed Nezha City. This time he was even more angry, and said to Dragon Mother, “This is horrible. If they build Eight-Armed Nezha City then we have no hope of a change in our fortunes. We should take advantage while it is not yet built and reclaim all the water in the town, then they will die of thirst.”

imagesFirst thing in the morning the next day, the Dragon Duke disguised himself in the appearance of a rural person going into town to sell vegetables. He pushed a small cart; Dragon Mother pulled a small yoke; Dragon Son and Dragon Daughter followed some distance behind. In this way, the whole family snuck into the town. Inside the town, they walked in a circle. Dragon Son drank dry all the sweet water; Dragon Daughter drank up all the bitter water. Then they both transformed into fish-scaled water baskets, each laying down on one side of the small cart. Dragon Duke pushed the cart, and Dragon Mother pulled the small yoke. They exited Xizhimen (the main NW gate of Beijing) and abruptly turned to leave.

Just then, Liu Bowen was leading the artisans to build the Imperial Palace when suddenly someone ran up to report saying that all the water in the capitol city, large and small, had all dried up! Liu Bowen heard this and panicked, then  he thought about it: certainly it was that Eight-Armed Nezha City had invoked the Dragon Duke’s revenge. Quickly he dispatched individuals to go to each gate and make inquiries: had any strange people been seen entering or leaving the city that day. Not long after, a scout returned to report: a little while before, two people pulling water baskets had left at Xizhimen. Liu Bowen heard this and then all was clear.

He said, “That repulsive, evil dragon! I must dispatch some men to reclaim the stolen water and bring it back.” “How will it be reclaimed?”, everyone asked him. Liu Bowen said, “We send one person to overtake them; two spear jabs will break the water baskets, and the water will bubble forth and run back. No matter what happens behind him, he must not look back. Just enter Xizhimen then everything will be safe and sound. Which brave person will dare to go?” Upon hearing this, everyone shook their heads repeatedly. Liu Bowen anxiously stamped his foot, “If we wait until the foul dragon gets it to the Lake, we’ll never get it back!” At that moment, a young artisan named Gao Liang stood forward and said in a loud voice, “I will go!” Liu Bowen picked up a red-tassled spear, gave it to Gao Liang and said, “Be very careful!” Gao Liang accepted the red-tassled spear, turned around, mounted his horse and headed straight for Xizhimen.

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As soon as he left Xizhimen, Gao Liang hit a problem: should he go North or West? He figured the evil dragon would plan to put the water in the lake, but in this region, only Jade Spring Hill had a lake. Right! To the Northwest! Gao Liang spurred his horse on, pursuing them into the Northwest, pursuing straight up to Jade Spring Hill. He could see the Dragon Duke far off; the Dragon Mother had stopped for a rest to wipe away some sweat, and close by was the small cart loaded with fish-scaled water baskets.

Gao Liang dismounted and stealthily moved around the Dragon Duke, behind the Dragon Mother. He abruptly straightened up, lifted the spear, then jabbed. One jab broke one fish-scaled water basket and the water flowed out with a crashing sound. Gao Liang was just about to strike the second one when that basket turned into a strong-stomached young man. He giggled as he slipped away into the Jade Spring Hill’s lake. Dragon Mother quickly picked up the water basket that had been struck by the spear, leapt past the north side of the mountain top and straight into the Black Dragon Pool. Then the Dragon Duke shouted loudly, “Smelly boy! You think you can just walk away?” Gao Liang turned and ran. Behind him a huge wave like the surging of the tide chased after him. Gao Liang ran with urgency; he could just see Xishimen. His heart soared, and he could not help but turn and look behind, but as a result he was swept away at once by the giant wave.

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From then on, Beijing City’s wells once more had water, but it mostly bitter water. The sweet water was taken to the lake at Jade Spring Hill by the Dragon Son. Later, people built a bridge at the place where Gao Liang sacrificed himself and called it “Gao Liang Bridge”. Now it is known as “Gao Liang Qiao”.

Note: In the last blog where I talked about Nezha, I linked to the old animated video of his adventures. While finding fun photos for this one, I discovered a new high quality animated movie was released in 2019. You can see the trailer on IMDB. Plus, there appears to be a comic. These stories are a very vibrant part of modern Chinese pop culture.


Hunter Hai Libu

Long ago there was a hunter named Hai Libu. He was an extremely warmhearted person. Every time he returned from hunting, he would always share his game with everyone, only keeping a small portion for himself, so everyone loved and respected him a great deal.

One day Hai Libu went into the deep woods to hunt, when all of a sudden he heard from up in the air a cry of “save me”. He looked up and saw an eagle flying by with a small white snake which it had grasped by the head. He promptly loaded an arrow into his bow, took aim and fired at the eagle. The eagle was injured, and allowed the little white snake to escape.

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Hai Libu said to the little white snake, “Pitiable little thing, hurry and return home!” The little white snake said, “You are my benefactor who saved my life, I wish to repay you. I speak the truth to you: I am really the Dragon King’s daughter, return with me, my father will certainly thank you with a mighty gift. My father’s treasury holds many treasures, whatever you want you can have. If you don’t like anything there, you can ask my father for the small gem he keeps in his mouth. If only you have this gemstone, and keep it in your mouth, you can then understand the speech of all the animals of the world.”

Hai Libu thought to himself, “I don’t really care for treasure, but understanding the speech of animals, that could be very useful to a hunter.” He then asked, “There really is such a thing as this gemstone?” Little White Snake said, “There really is. But when an animal says something, only you can know. If you tell another person, you will change into a block of hard stone.”

Hai Libu followed Little White Snake back to the Dragon Palace. The Dragon King was entirely grateful that Hai Libu had saved Little White Snake and wanted to thank him with a great gift, so led him into the treasure hall and allowed him to chose a treasure, whatever he liked he could have. Hai Libu didn’t pick up any of the treasures, instead he said to the Dragon King, “If you truly wish to give me something to remember this by, then please give me the precious gem you keep in your mouth.” The Dragon King lowered his head a moment and thought, then he spat out the precious gem in his mouth and gave it to Hai Libu.

As Hai Libu was leaving, Little White Snake went out with him, and repeated to him over and over, “You must remember, whatever an animal says, you must not tell other people. If you tell them, you will instantly turn into stone, and can never again be brought back to life!” Hai Libu thanked Little White Snake and returned home.

With this gemstone, Hai Libu hunted very easily. He kept the gem in his mouth and could understand the language of the birds of the air and beasts of the field; he knew which mountains had which animals. From then on, every time he returned from hunting he shared even more game with everyone.

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Things went on this way for many years. One day while Hai Libu was hunting deep in the mountains, he suddenly heard a flock of birds discussing something. He leaned in to listen attentively. The first bird said, “We should quickly fly to somewhere else! Tonight this mountain will crumble and the ground will be submerged by a flood, who knows how many people will drown!”

Hai Libu heard this and was shocked. He hastily ran back home and said to his fellow villagers, “We should quickly move to somewhere else! This place isn’t habitable!” Everyone who heard this found it strange, it was a fine place to live, why should they move their homes? Despite the fact that Hai Libu anxiously urged everyone, no one believed him. Hai Libu shed worried tears and said, “Believe me, we must move quickly! Once night comes it will be too late!” An old man spoke up, “Hai Libu, we all know you would never lie, but you want us to move our homes. You need to explain clearly why this is. We have lived at the foot of this mountain for many generations, there are many old people and young children, moving would not be easy!”

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Hai Libu knew being worried was no use, he couldn’t give a reason for the move, and everyone was skeptical. If he wanted to rescue his fellow countrymen, he could only speak the actual truth! Arriving at this realization, he calmly said to everyone, “Tonight, this mountain will collapse, and a deluge will flood the ground.” He went on to explain how he had gotten the gemstone, and how he had overheard a flock of birds discussing taking refuge, as well as why he could not tell anyone else the information he heard, he told them the whole story. Just as Hai Libu finished speaking, he turned into a lump of hardened stone.

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Everyone was very remorseful, holding in tears, and remembering Hai Libu’s name, helping the elderly and leading the children, driving the livestock, they left for a far away place. While they were walking on the road, suddenly black clouds densely filled the sky, a fierce gale roared, and after that it rained a downpour. At midnight, there was a sound that shook heaven and earth, and the mountain had a landslide, and the rushing flood waters inundated the village where they lived. Hai Libu sacrificed himself in order to save his fellow villagers, and the people from generation to generation cherish his memory.

Once again, if you’d like to watch an animated short of this story, I have found a link! You can see it’s a different animation style than the pictures I chose, and that’s because there a a lot of different renditions of these famous stories.


The Eight Immortals Cross the Sea

Legend has it that a very long time ago there were eight Daoist Immortals. Separately, they are Tieguai Li, Han Zhongli, Zhang Guolao, Lan Caihe, Lu Dongbin, Han Xiangzi, He Xian’gu, and Cao Guojiu; together they are Ba Xian, the Eight Immortals. They behead goblins and drive out monsters; they eliminate evil and promote good; and they left behind many touching stories.

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Tieguai Li used to be called Li Xuan and he was a Daoist. Originally he was tall and sturdy, with a majestic appearance, he practiced Dao in the caves of Mt. Dang. One time, he sent his spirit out to go to Mt. Hua and visit the great teachers Laojun and Wanqiu, but when he returned to his body it was unexpectedly destroyed, and he had no choice but to use the body of a recently dead beggar brought back from the grave. He didn’t expect that the beggar would have an ugly face or a lame leg. He had to carry around an iron crutch and rest his leg on a cloud while travelling the four seas. He came to be called “Tieguai Li” or Iron-Crutch Li.

During the days of the Eight Immortals, Zhang Guolao would always ride around on a donkey. It is said that his donkey could walk thousands of miles in a day, and when they stopped, he could fold it up like paper. Han Zhongli was originally a general in the army, but since he lost in battle, he went into hiding deep in the mountains to practice austerity and become a Daoist Immortal. He always bares the the skin of his belly, waves a fan in his hand, and is smiling and laughing with an expression of good fortune. Pure Yang Master Lu Dongbin looks like a scholar and carries a double edged sword on his back. The sword gives off a bolt of divine light that can scare monsters away. 

He Xian’gu is the only female immortal among the Ba Xian. She carries a Lotus in her hand, and is slender and elegant. Lan Caihe often carries a flower basket which is overflowing with sweet smelling flowers in all seasons of the year. Han Xiangzi is the grand-nephew of the great Tang Dynasty poet laureate, Han Yu and carries a reed flute in his hand. Cao Guojiu’s device is a jade tablet. Legend has it that the sound of the jade tablet can make all things between Heaven and Earth peaceful and calm.

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Left to right: Tieguai Li, Han Zhongli, Cao Guojiu, Zhang Guolao, Han Xiangzi, Lan Caihe, Lu Dongbin, He Xian’gu

One day, the Eight Immortals were riding on the clouds to go to take part in an assembly of immortals across the Eastern Sea. Lu Dongbin said, “Riding clouds across the sea isn’t really considered a skill of the Immortal School, it would be better if we each used our own special abilities, tread the waves across the sea, and show off our magical power. Do you all agree?” The remaining Immortals voted in favor.

Iron Crutch Li was the first to cross the ocean. He simply threw the crutch in his hand into the Eastern Sea. The crutch resembled a small boat floating on the surface of the water and carried Tieguai Li safe and sound to the opposite bank. Next, Han Zhongli slapped the drum in his hands said, “Watch mine.”, then threw the drum into the sea. He crossed his legs and sat down on the drum and crossed nice and secure across the Eastern Sea.

Zhang Guolao grinned and said, “My move is the most brilliant”, then he took out a piece of paper and unfolded it into a donkey. Once its four hooves touched the ground it looked to the sky and let out a bray, then carrying the seated Zhang Guolao on its back, trotted across the waves. He Xian’gu threw her lotus flower into the water, stood patiently on its face and drifted along the waves across the sea. Soon after, Lu Dongbin, Cao Guojiu, Han Xiangzi, and Lan Caihe one by one tossed their treasures into the sea, and with the aid of those treasures they each showed off their special abilities and crossed the sea.

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Seven Immortals arrived on the opposite shore, to the left and to the right, there was no sign of Lan Caihe. As it turned out, when the Eight Immortals crossed the sea just then, it disturbed the crown prince, son of the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea. He dispatched the shrimp soldiers and crab generals out to sea to look around. Taking advantage of the Ba Xian being caught off guard, they captured Lan Caihe and took his flower basket.

Lu Dongbin couldn’t find Lan Caihe, he became worried and upset. He hollered in a loud voice toward the Eastern Sea, “Dragon King, listen up, hand over Lan Caihe right now or else you will feel my wrath!” The Dragon Prince heard this and became excited and angry and rushed up to the surface of the sea to let Lu Dongbin really have it. Lu Dongbin drew his double-edged sword and sliced the air. Afraid, the Dragon Prince sank back down to the sea bed.

Lu Dongbin was unwilling to let him go. He pulled his fire gourd from his pocket and burned the Eastern Sea into a sea of fire. After that, the seven immortals each made use of their powers, going forward to fight, cutting down two of the Dragon King’s sons. The shrimp soldiers and crab generals were unable to hold them off, and one by one were defeated and hid in the seabed. The Dragon King of the Eastern Sea saw his own sons die, flew into a rage, and called on the Dragon Kings of the South, North and West Seas to work together to overturn all of the water in the world into one huge tidal wave and crash it onto the Immortals.

At that critical moment, Cao Guojiu used his cherished Jade Tablet to open a path before them and the giant tidal wave went around them on both sides and receded. The other Immortals followed Cao Guojiu precisely and arrived unharmed. The Dragon Kings of the four seas quickly gathered their armies for war. They were about to launch a fight to the death. But just then, the Bodhisatva Guan Yin passed through the South Sea and yelled at both sides to stop. She then helped them to settle their differences. Before long, the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea released Lan Caihe and both sides stopped fighting and made peace. The Eight Immortals then bid farewell and went freely and leisurely on to the meeting of Immortals.

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Note: This is a great example of the syncretism in East Asian religious faiths. Guan Yin is a Buddhist figure, a Bodhisattva is one who came to the edge of true enlightenment, but instead of choosing Nirvana, they chose to stay in the world to help others. On the other hand, the Eight Immortals are Taoist figures. It’s common to see the characters from each religion interacting in stories, and for people to practice rituals and prayers from both.