Ann Arbor and Environs

Yesterday was a no-post day partly because we were traveling, and partly because Hank had to work last night on EPMG requirements that he needed the computer for.  Today he's in a directors' meeting all day, which means that I'm about to go out and play.

But first, some travel notes:

The trip from Pittsburgh to Ann Arbor probably takes about four hours and some change.  We took five, because I had to stop every hour and a half or so and exercise the hip.  Besides, that's a more pleasant and restful way to go.  We left Pittsburgh at noon and were in our hotel room in Ann Arbor, unloaded and stretching, by 5:30, having spent most of the day on the Ohio Turnpike. 

The Ohio Turnpike is I-80, and we paid $11.25 for the privilege of driving on it.  When you get on, just across the Pennsylvania line, you take a ticket that has all the exits printed on it; your entrance point is punched, and you can see how much it's going to cost you to get off.  Further, the ticket warns you that if you get off at the entrance point, you will have to pay the full fare, which for a car is something like $25.  So the minute you take that ticket, they have you.  I felt a little bit like a hostage, but oh, well.

The other thing about the Ohio Turnpike is that much of it is boring, boring, boring.  It's like a deciduous I-64 between Charlottesville and Richmond, a green tunnel beyond which might be anything.  You're never going to know.  Fortunately, we had lots to talk about, but we didn't learn squat about northern Ohio except that it has trees.  We did see Cleveland in the distance, but it's not that close to the interstate, so we took a pass.

We went slapbang through Toledo, though, and both had the same thought.  If you just added that tang of rotting swamp vegetation, you'd think you were in Chesapeake. They look exactly alike.  Seriously.  Drop me in Toledo, and I'll believe I'm in Tidewater.  The Lake Erie area, both Michigan and Ohio, is as flat as Chip's feet.  Flatter.  The glaciers bulldozed it, dropped off the occasional drumlin, and skedaddled.  I have no idea what rivers do around here, but I suspect they do it really, really slowly.  I got all excited on U.S. 23 north of Toledo, because we went down something that was almost a hill; then I realized it was a man-made dip in the road to allow it to go under the rail line.  Sigh.

Call me provincial, but I want my geography to have some bumps in it.  Pennsylvania is fine, with its rolling hills and gentle vistas.  Northwestern Ohio is just a bit overwhelming -- it's all sky.  I suspect the Great Plains are like this, too, which is why people build windbreaks and houses with small windows.  All that sky sits on you like a lid.  You can see clouds that are probably 150 miles away, and a thunderstorm can take all afternoon to arrive.  I'm just more comfortable in the mountains, where even a contrail is an atmospheric surprise.  I digress.

This morning I'm going to shop for a pair of black shoes and then visit the UM library.  Further bulletins as events warrant.

Alas, Poor Betty, We Hardly Knew Ye

Explaining how we became friends with artist, educator, and (currently) fisherman John Mowder would require ten years of history, much of it revolving around the Outer Banks, where John spends most of his summers.  I'm going to skip that and just go straight to saying that spending time with John is ALWAYS a treat, and today was no exception.

John's house is his gallery; it's always changing, but the biggest change we noted today is the presence of his wheaten terrier, Toto.  What a great dog!  He looks a bit like a smaller Wowbagger, (which was bittersweet, because we found out from Chip today that the vet has diagnosed the Wowpuppy's problem as hip dysplasia; I digress.)  He's just a soft, furry bundle of friendliness, so we spent a while at John's kitchen table playing with the dog and catching up.

Then we were off with John to the Carnegie museum, and that's when we discovered that he no longer drives Betty White, his mom's old car.  "She got too demanding," he told us.  "Two weeks ago she needed even MORE money, so I told her she had to go."  The last time we were in Pittsburgh, I saw most of the city from Betty's backseat.  John's new car is a silver Subaru, Bernadette, but she doesn't have Betty's (admittedly neurotic) personality.

The Carnegie pleased us, of course, but it actually surprised and pleased John.  He hadn't been there in a while, and discovered today that the new curator has shuffled the collections, added some excellent pieces that had been in storage, and created some salon-style displays in several of the galleries.  We had a wonderful time drawing on John's expertise.  (Sarah, you really need to do this.  We'll get you up here and let you rant to John about Seurat.)

While John and I were talking about color, line, and whether a person can look at any Edvard Munch painting for too long without going nuts, Hank was lining up shots like this one, where a Rodin bowman is about to shoot us.  We also attracted the attention of a security guard who thought we might actually (the horror!) be touching a Mary Cassatt.  Actually, we were just talking about whether mouths or eyes were the most expressive facial features, and the guard turned out to be quite friendly.

That is one of the lovable things about Pittsburgh.  Most of the people are friendly.  They do not regard others with suspicion or hostility, as a general rule; I'm sure that exceptions exist, since the jerk is a ubiquitous species, but we haven't run into many.

Tonight we had dinner with John and John Mannear (aka Other John) at Hokkaido Seafood Buffet.  We could not find the place again if our lives depended on it, since we were once again whisked through surface streets in Bernadette.  Dinner conversation was a lively combination of art, teaching, folklore, medicine, and the joys of Internet research.  Other John gave me a book, Population: 485, written by the person who lead his visiting writer lecture series this year.  It looks to be both funny and close-to-home for anyone familiar with the vagaries and tragedies of small town life.

We left them this evening, promising to return to Pittsburgh ASAP, and this time to stay at the right Marriott, the one about a block from their house, instead of downtown, where we currently are.  Tomorrow we head up to Ann Arbor, taking the scenic route past Cleveland.  I can't wait, insofar as the Johns talked tonight about how Cleveland is now a ghost town.  We'll see, I suppose.

Hip Schmip -- Mucking About in the New River Gorge

We were not in a big rush today, because we had to stop pretty often and let me stretch out the hip.  The absolute best leg-stretching place has to be the Canyon Rim State Park, on the north side of the New River Gorge Bridge.  I can't believe we've never done this -- we did try, once, to attend Bridge Day, but were too late for the festivities.  Today, thanks to on-and-off showers, we had the place almost to ourselves, and it's amazing. 

Even though it was raining a bit when we stopped, we took an easy stroll to the overlook, and THEN went down 600 more feet to a really spectacular viewing platform. (For the record, my hip did fine, although I nearly popped a lung on the climb back up.) The bridge photo here just doesn't do it justice.  The span is so unbelievably huge, and wide, but the scale is hard to discern because it is so beautifully proportioned.  The river below just looked, today, like someone pouring coffee down a chute -- brown, high, and fast moving.  Again, the scale doesn't register, or it didn't until we saw a tiny, tiny man fishing near a boat-launch ramp. He really was almost too small to see. 

Here, pushing through its final range of mountains, it's easy to see how old the New is, compared to the surrounding terrain.  It does not follow the mountains' drainage pattern, easing down some valley.  No, it flows across the range, cutting it in half.  What a nasty surprise that must have been for early settlers moving south and west.

The Canyon Rim park has a nifty visitors' center, with exhibits on canyon life, coal mining, and New River history.  A good time was had by all, rain or no rain.  We arrived in Pittsburgh before nine, discovered that Marriott had upgraded us to a suite, and are now happily swilling diet, caffeine-free Mountain Dew and watching basketball.  Further bulletins as events warrant.

Confessions of a Pittsburgh Fan

We're leaving this morning for our annual anniversary extravaganza, but while Hank catches a quick nap, I'm going to give this trip a quick prelude.  Instead of our more usual planes or trains, we're driving this time, so we can make a large northern loop, see some friends, and attend Hank's quarterly ER director's meeting in Ann Arbor.  The trip that usually takes him less than an hour from Roanoke is going to take us three days, because we're stopping for a while in Pittsburgh. 

It's been about three years since we were last in

the former steel capital of Pennsylvania, but on that trip, among other things, Hank, John Mowder, and I broke into the Frick mansion and fondled the dishes before a docent caught us and politely, but firmly, directed us to a tour.  I have been in love ever since.  This photo, swiped from About.com, shows what you see when you pop out of the Mt. Washington tunnel.  At night, it takes your breath away.

Pittsburgh has done a lot of things right.  When it lost the steel business, it bulldozed the factories along the river and planted parks.  It nourishes a bunch of colleges and universities.  It has cherished its neighborhoods and its blue-collar roots.   I'm looking forward to going back, maybe driving east to Fallingwater, and seeing John and Other John.  Further bulletins as events warrant.

The Culinary Round-Up

As we get ready to pack our suitcases and print our boarding passes, it's time to wind up the week in food. Thanks to the recommendations of our concierge and a fantastic book on Boston's restaurants that Kathy got me at the Green Valley Book Fair, we have eaten well. Here are some highlights:

Sasso: Upscale, attentive service, and a fantastic table by the window, whereby we watched Boston walk past. The seared scallops I had were particularly wonderful, as were the crab cakes I had as an appetizer. We'd go back.

Legal Sea Foods: Yes, it's a chain, but it's a family-owned chain, and they do have a commitment to the freshest and healthiest seafood possible. It was fabulous. I had salmon, but the real winner was Hank's lobster. (We can't come to Boston and NOT have lobster, can we?) My only problem here was very inattentive service. We'd go back, but we'd pray for a different waiter.

Fiore: By Italians for Italians in the North End. Fantastic antipasti (with the exception of the pickled eggplant. I think Hank liked it.) Great pasta and original sauces, plus, we ate in the courtyard, watching the panoply of humans and listening to the Italian family next to us. The staff was wonderfully friendly, too.

We also had some great lunch and snack experiences that are worth a note.

Finagle a Bagle. This one came from Kathy's book, and they're right, it's a delicious bagel topped with any one of a number of delicious things (I had lox once and regular cream cheese. Hank had sausage, egg, and cheese on a jalapeno-cheddar bagel. It can get complicated.) I just like to say "Finagle a Bagle."

Au Bon Pain: This was so handy for us that we had lunch here twice. I LOVE their soups and bread. Yesterday's lunch was particularly nice, because it was cool and rainy, and the soup really hit the spot.

Uno: The spinach-broccoli pizza was great, and the wildberry sangria wasn't bad, either.

P.F. Chang's: Fried green beans. That's all I'm gonna say.

The Boston Museum of Fine Art Cafe: Boston Clam Chowder is a specialty, and I had some, and it was great. Clam chowder is easy to get wrong. If the clams are tough, or the potato-onion balance is off, then it is pretty horrible all the way around. This was perfectly balanced, and, like lobster, you have to have some while you're here. (We also had Boston cream pie at Legal Sea Foods.)

A Day in the North End

A lot of people are interested in Old North Church because of Paul Revere. I'm interested in it because it dates to 1723, the oldest surviving Boston Church. Cotton Mather would have walked past it, muttering. It's interesting that an Anglican church, an absolute hotbed of British loyalists, would be the site of the whole "One if by land, two if by sea" thing, but apparently Revere had been a bell-ringer at the church and knew of the unparalleled view from its steeple.

We heard this and a lot of other history today because we went totally non-native and took a trolley tour. This was the best money we've ever spent, because we got to see all kinds of places we would never have gotten to on our own, like the campus of MIT, Charlestown and Bunker Hill, Long Wharf and the waterfront, and, of course, the heavily Italian North End.

The great thing about our trolley experience was that it's a hop-on, hop-off, so we spent the whole day looking at various areas. We walked down Long Wharf, first, and looked at the waterfront and at the view of the financial district from there. A short trolley-ride later, and we got off at the Boston Garden stop, to hike over to the Old North Church. (And here's an aside: We considered going to a Celtics game last night at the Garden, but the CHEAPEST tickets we could get, in the nosebleed seats, were $96. Good grief.) To continue, the trolleys can't go into the North End because the streets are really, really narrow. This is because they're pretty much the original streets. That doesn't mean that Franklin, Adams, and the rest would recognize anything -- Boston has had a lot of fires and calamity in its history. They'd recognize some things, though. Paul Revere's house is still standing, for example.

Let's see. Here in no particular order are some Fun Facts we either learned or experienced on today's foray, with many thanks to Joe and J, our trolley drivers. (And yes, we got off and on more than once, but we kept getting Joe's trolley.)

1. Boston has 290,000 college students living in the city on 88 campuses. We have been, (counting my travels earlier in the week) to Northeastern, Boston College, and MIT. We were in Cambridge, but elected not to take the MTA to Harvard. It's just as well nobody knew that we were from Virginia when the VT-BC score came through. We rolled past dozens more schools, and generally had a fine time.
2. When Franklin and Adams roamed the town, Boston was just the North End, connected to the rest of Massachusetts by a narrow peninsula. (Really narrow, like about 20 yards wide.) All of the Back Bay area, where our hotel sits, among other things, was underwater. The city dumped two of Boston's three hills into Back Bay to transform it into more Boston.
3. As an interesting side note to 2., we learned yesterday that Trinity Church is supported by wooden pilings sunk 40 feet into the fill gravel and kept underwater by pumps, so they don't rot.
4. Today we encountered a jillion cops and SWAT teams just south of Fenway Park. They had guns drawn and were ducking behind cars. We were fairly freaked out until we learned that somebody was shooting a scene for a movie.
5. The religious makeup of Boston is 45% Catholic, which is down from 60% fifteen years ago. A lot of Irish and Italians in Boston, which would, again, make those Puritan fathers scream. They really didn't like Catholics at all.
6. The Big Dig (that project that put all the interstates under the city) cost 17 BILLION dollars and took 16 years to complete. It was projected to cost $3 billion and be done in five years. Oops.
This is me enjoying the breeze on Long Wharf. The financial district is behind me. Boston Harbor is what I'm looking at. We have to note that, as a port city, Boston hasn't really been one in a long time. In terms of shipping traffic, Boston ranks below Huntington, West Virginia. (Coal barges, dontcha know?) It actually ranks below a lot of places, coming in at the 31st busiest U.S. port by weight.

More (Legal) Fun in Churches

This morning, after breakfast at Finagle a Bagel, we toured Trinity Church, which is quite near us on Copley Square. To say that it is beautiful actually doesn't meet the case. This is Hank's photo of the cross over the altar. The interior glass is mostly European, with a set of windows based on the Nativity designed by William Morris. They look like it, too. Fabulous. The central tower is brightly painted with figures by John LaFarge.

The whole experience was breathtaking, and THEN we scored a free concert in their Friday Concert Series, an organist from Philadelphia who is incredible. She played two fugues, one Bach and one modern by Maruice Durufle. She also played an absolutely charming and playful piece by a composer named Ad Wammes, called Miroir. Oh, and she was 14 years old. We thoroughly enjoyed it, hence this immediate update.