BLOG

So, for anyone who follows my blog with any regularity, you will notice that my posts have been a bit sporadic. There is a good reason for this; I'm in The Europe. This is much like the normal Europe that a great many people go to, but the key difference is that I'm in it and using unneeded articles of speech when trying to talk in other languages.       But, in between all of this, I have managed to redesign the whole website. That's actually a bit of a lie as there are still large chunks of this that need to be dealt with, but I mainly wanted to pull all of this together so that I could upload something of a new version of the site while leapfrogging between major cities in the Mediterranean. Currently, I'm in Barcelona and loving it. Great city. Far too many tourists, but such is generally the case for great places. Hopefully I'll be able to knock out some blog posts that talk about this more than just patting myself on the back for rebuilding my website.

God I love pistachio ice cream. When made right, it really is the finest thing to grace the face of the earth. Unfortunately, when it's not amazing, it's really, really not amazing and tends to drift towards massive chalkiness that isn't enjoyable at all.       Now, it's true that Ben and Jerry's makes a very good pistachio, but it's still not the pistachio. You see, it's really the Italian-style gelato that is the best and it's due to a trip to Venice and several to Croatia that I've fallen in love with this ice cream. Naturally, someone must have sensed this and for some reason, on my last trip to the Balkans I couldn't find it anywhere. Not in Croatia. Not in Slovenia. Not in Italy. Not even in Austria.       Now that I've been left wanting for so long, I was very excited when I found pistachio in the ice cream shops around north-eastern Spain where I am now. But, upon tasting it, it has that chalkiness to it that I don't like so much. One came close, but it still wasn't the penultimate pistachio that I am hounding for like a drug addict. Back in San Francisco, the only other one that came this close was at Gelateria Naia, but even that just wasn't quite there.       In a week and a half, I fly to Dubrovnik and I am curious if the mafia in control of the ice cream has re-released the pistachio. If so, I will be a very happy camper. It's a minor thing and if I never find it again, the world won't be any worse or less off, but such are the trivialities of life for a food junkie.

Figueres is a really nice little town in north-eastern Spain, rather close to the French border. It's definitely not one of Spain's larger cities, but it has one big claim to fame in that it's home to the Dalí Museum.       True to the form and schtick of Dalí, it's a very odd place, constructed by the wildest pandering to surrealism that Dalí could desire as it was constructed later in his life when he had a great deal of money. And that is really the main draw of it because the lovely heavy-handed Spanish government swooped in right after Dalí's death and scooped up all of the best known works that were there. This was heavily despised by the Catalans of the area, but not unexpected given Spain's general treatment of Catalonia over the years. But added in to this fact is that even though Dalí was born here and was for all purposes a Catalan, he was known to side more with the Spanish government during the long dictatorship years of Franco and hid any support (if there was any) for Catalonia. Thus leading to the anecdote that when Dalí showed up to a premiere in New York wearing an old scuba outfit and nearly suffocated, people in the area nearly got excited.       But, naturally I digress in to the personal life of Dalí, but honestly after 1950 or so, that's kinda what you're left with as he started to repeat himself a great deal. I would never discount his massive contributions to 20th century art in the world. It's just that he was somewhat unfortunate to live too long without having any new revelations to his craft. So, you're left with the whole gimmick that was Señor Dalí. Overall though, it's a fun museum that I would highly, highly recommend for anyone passing through. Just be wary of days where there is crappier weather, since all the tourists in the area flock to the place, seeing as how they can't go out and burn at the beach that is 15 minutes away.

I wanted to bring this up, since it's been awhile since I've been in a place; just over a year in fact. I've just now had to deal with all of the liquid restrictions that have plagued not just the US, but also European flights. These suck a great deal and really are just a bunch of crap to get you to buy more stuff after security check in. I mean really, this has all been debunked. The end result though is that there is a lot less baggage in the cabin. It's kinda weird. I remember trying to cram my backpack (which was all I used to bring) in to the overhead bins and having a lot of problems, since people would bring mountains of stuff with them. But, all that has changed. Even kids backpacking through Europe have to check their bags now because of these restrictions. The amount of space this has provided is amazing. I wish there was something that I could do with it, but there it sits, above my head, empty. At least my laptop and camera have plenty of breathing room now and won't get crushed by any Gucci purchases...

Ah, traveling. Is there anything better? Well, sure, but for it's purposes, getting out of your permanent place of residence is one of the best things I look forward to each year. This time around, I'm taking a long trip to the Mediterranean for a couple of months. It's the first time I'm done this and as you're reading this, I'm somewhere up in the sky or already set down and enjoying a good tempranillo in Barcelona, which is my first stop for a couple of weeks. Yes, that's right, I said Barcelona, not Barthelona. There is a common misconception about this that I really want to clear up now, because like anyone from Catalonia, I've been corrected on it by many a well-meaning person here in the US and I'm gettin' sorta tired of it. It is for the people of Catalonia, Barcelona. But, let's get in to this a bit.       Okay, you're overhearing a conversation about someone going to Barcelona and as soon as they hear the name of the city, the other person says, "Ah, Barthelona." Obviously, because of what we call a lisp, this is how the Spaniards say the name of the city. This correction will inevitably then be followed by the sentence, "You know why they say that, right? It's because this king [or prince, or duke, or whatever] talked with a lisp and everyone just tried to copy him so he didn't feel stupid." Naturally when anyone saying this is pressed for the name of that king, they don't know it. What is even more interesting is that if you ask a Spaniard, they will tell you that this is news to them. This story is for all purposes just a myth. It's been retold and built upon so many times that it's a lot like the, "Coldest winter I ever spent anywhere, was a summer in San Francisco" bit that is usually attributed to Mark Twain, yet no one really knows for sure, albeit there is truth to this as San Francisco is really cold in the summer, unlike "The Barthelona".       Now, it is definitely true that a Spaniard will pronounce the name of the town as Barthelona. But this is irrelevant because the people living there are Catalans whose language is as different from Spanish as Italian is to Spanish and they all say Barcelona. But, my point is, to call Barcelona, Barthelona is as random as us calling Hrvatska, Croatia. If we really want to be correct and pronounce the city correctly, by what the people there say, then it is Barcelona. Sorry to be banging on this point so much, but it gets to be a goofy argument. Let put this another way. If we were so concerned about saying a town the way that the Spaniards who are speaking Castilian do, then we should also say things like Ibitha and Valenthia (Ibiza and Valencia respectively.) But we don't. We say those any old way that seems to work best.       Okay, so where did this all start then? Why is Barcelona the victim of over zealous cultural correctness? Because, I've found out that it's worldwide. Even Germans and others throughout Europe will make this correction. What is is about Barcelona that makes it so damned special other than the fact that yes, it is pretty damned special? I thought back and I remembered my world map that I had over my bed as a child. Growing up, I always remember Barcelona pronounced just that way. No one ever said another pronunciation when we studied Europe in Geography class. Then it hit me. 1992. The summer Olympics were held in Barcelona that year and with them always come all these stories about the region. At the time, the news media was rather daft about Catalan, even though Catalan was a big deal at the Olympics due to it getting national attention after Franco's attempts to wipe it out. And there it is. The news must have started saying this whole Barthelona thing because that's how the overall Spanish population says it. Because, I gotta tell you, from 1992 onward, I can only remember Barthelona. I realize that this was 15 years ago, but still, I am certain that is the point at things took a turn for the 'th'.       So, what news network was broadcasting the Olympics that year? NBC. And who was NBC's main man when it came to the Olympics? Bob Costas. So, I think that it's only fitting that from this day forward whenever a Catalan person gets with the "Ah Barthelona..." thing, they should silently curse, "Damn you Bob Costas. Damn. You." And hopefully at some point, this will all be corrected.       Oh yeah, if you want to hear more than just my theories on this, you can read this article which gets in to the language specifics and then this article which is similar, but less technical.

In San Francisco's annual salute to everything that is just incredibly right about the city, the Bay to Breakers rolled across town yesterday. While it can be an intolerable mess of drunken fools to anyone who lives along the route, it's still a lot of fun to go and have a look.       Having attended last year for the first time (yeah, I know, pathetic), I knew what to expect. The salmon running upstream were there. Also present were the Elvi. Then you had some storm troopers, which are always one of my favorites. Naturally, there were all the folks with various implementations of the beer keg and some way to wheel it for 7.5 miles (12km). These ranged from shopping carts, to luggage racks, to wheel barrows. The creativity was pretty boundless. Then of course there were the Bare to Breakers. This group did their standard race day nudity bit. This is actually prohibited, but no one ever gets arrested or ticketed, so they hang and sway with the best of them. Unfortunately it's not as much fun as you'd think, unless you're an old gay man, because that's mostly who is going sans clothes; old men who are mostly gay. The selections of piercings (NSFW) that I got to see this year, will scar me for some time to come. Thankfully, I'll be prancing on the beaches of the Mediterranean in two days, yet sunburned Germans in thongs seems all the more terrifying. But, I digress.       One of the things about the race is that it's a pretty good mirror of popular culture. Case in point, Reno 911: Miami came out in theaters this year and thusly, there were many groups that decided to go as the posse from that show. The only downside to this is that it's funny the first time, but as the race gets longer and drunker, you realize you got the idea some time ago and if they'd kindly stop kicking you in the face with it, you'd be thrilled. But, once again, I digress.       The only really weird thing about the race was that at Hayes Street Hill (which, oddly enough in San Francisco, is the only hill on the race) ING, whom sponsored the event, ran these crowd barriers along the path up to the hill. I assume that this must have been to try and stop the throngs of people who would step out to take photos or what have you and block the race path. I'm not sure how well it did in blocking that, but it did make one poor woman completely eat it when she tripped on one of the low-lying feet of the barrier. I felt really bad for her, since she hit the ground damned hard. Upon seeing this, a guy across the street who had made it known his deep preference for no barrier started up his chant of "Tear down the wall! Tear down the wall!" again. I'm rather amazed that the crowd didn't start in, but this wasn't the truly drunken group, just yet.       But, overall, a mighty good time and who knows, I might even run it next year.

Today in the Chronicle was an article that I found most interesting being that I'm a renter in San Francisco and I like to have a nice place surrounding me. To summarize, the article talks about people who invest money in to their apartments they rent and do a bit of remodeling work to spruce them up. I'm in much the same state of mind and when you're a bit of a homebody and your spouse is one too, then it's money well spent.       For a quick rundown, I think that the things I've done to this place that I rent month-to-month include putting in new curtains, putting in a good pedestal sink in the bathroom, putting in all new ceiling lights, and re-wiring the phone jack so that it's in a place that's actually convenient. There are probably a couple of other items in there that I'm forgetting, but all told, it's been at most $1,000 spent. Yes, that seems like a lot, but over 2 1/2 years, it really isn't. And that amount is even lower when you consider that it's about 1/5 of one month of a house payment in the Bay Area. So, when you think of it in those terms, it's really quite a deal.       Sure, friends ask me why I waste money doing this to a place I don't own. To which I reply, because it makes it feel like mine. It also adds to your quality of life and makes things better for your mental health when you have the most incredible place with the most incredible woman in the world to come home to. And no, I'm not going to stop. I think that once we're back from Europe, we're going to paint the rooms as well. We're fortunate in that the rooms aren't standard, "Landlord White" and have been relatively tastefully done in a nice cream with white trim. Even still, having a lush earth tone bathing the living room would be fantastic. But for right now, it's going to be about the day dreams and dealing with the reality of this in a months once back from, The Europe.

I just had an interesting experience in regards to selling stock photos. A major travel book publisher contacted me interested in purchasing some of my photos that I have of a specific area in San Francisco. They were very energetic and given that they were a well-established brand, I realized that they were serious about getting some photos. So, I quoted them a price of $500 a photo for full reproduction rights. This is below the standard rate which, based upon my publishing experience, is $750, $1,000, or more depending on what the subject is or who took the photos. Once I emailed them the rate, they flat-out refused. I wrote back telling them I was willing to reduce the price, since this is not something I rely on for a living. To this, they responded that they found photos they could use for free. For free! Now, why on earth would anyone do this? This is a group who will probably sell tens of thousands of copies of the book that they're going to use these in. Well, here's the answer to that: you get some name recognition and in an ever-widening sea of no-name amateurs, that's worth something to some people.       I don't mention the name of this publisher because from what I've heard from friends, they all do this and they can because everyone is a "professional photographer" these days. Obviously that's not really the case, but it is a fact that professional equipment has gotten so cheap that it's in the range of most people here ($2,000 gets you a good, basic setup.) And you see this in the fact that any event you go to, there are one of us goobers that has a fancy Canon or Nikon or Sony Digital SLR and is running around with this grandiose seriousness to get shots. It doesn't make any of our photos less good, but it does cheapen the worth of the photos of a place or event when there is much more supply than demand and the net result is that publishers can get images for free.       Toss in to this the fact that I know of a certain well-known magazine publisher who will download stock images from photo libraries like Getty Images and then not pay for them. Yes, they're most definitely supposed to pay and if they ever got caught, they'd be in a lot of trouble, but they're not worried about that, just their bottom line, which does not include a line item for the real cost of stock photography. Once again, they're not alone in this.       I have no idea as to the quality of the person's photos who gave them to this travel book publisher. They might have been worse, they might have been much better. I suppose that the lesson in all of this is that you're most likely not going to make a decent living as a stock photographer these days. If you get hired specifically for an event like a wedding, then it may be possible to earn the rent. Otherwise, think of it as a hobby first.

Movie night in Dolores Park is a fun outing. The group that puts it on is made up of locals to the area and I always love seeing people care about their neighborhood and bring others together in a sense of community, whatever form that may take. This facet of togetherness appears in varying degrees in the neighborhoods around San Francisco, but is generally pretty strong, thus making San Francisco the kick ass town that it is.       The film that I saw was the tremendously fun Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (the 1971 version.) It's great because it's a film that everyone in the audience knew, so we could all cheer it on at points such as when Willy found the Golden Ticket. The musical interludes are tad bit dated, but that's just an excuse for drinking during those. Oh, I might add that everyone is definitely drinking. While the park officially has a "no glass containers" policy, it's overlooked a little for that evening. On every blanket around the screen you'll see series of bottles in differing states of being emptied. Next to these are every kind of munchie you can imagine. We had some pizza with good cheeses, and meats. Naturally, a good bottle of Croatian wine was there with us. The long trip to the Balkans is impending after all and you gotta get your palate ready.       If you go (every second Thursday during fair weather), make sure to dress warmly and bring a blanket or two. For those who for some reason don't know, San Francisco's Summer Nights have a mighty nasty nip to the air. Also, if the film they're showing isn't one you've seen, I'd recommend watching it beforehand. It will just improve the experience.

Discovering your family roots can be a difficult task, but thankfully a great many items are housed in a great many archives. For me, everything I need for Croatian research is held at the Državni Arhiv. The main office is in Zagreb, in one of the most beautiful buildings in the city (Google View), but you can access many arms of it throughout the country. So, that's that and if you can't find information there, then it probably doesn't exist.       When trying to find information that does exist in the US, things can get trickier. Such was the case when I needed to round up copies of older birth certificates. My family members were born all over the country on both coasts. I'm not like some who have been in the same state for 10 generations or what have you. And that's really a problem in that there is/was no Federal system that maintained birth records throughout the country. As time has passed, documents are getting more uniform with one another, but in the early part of the 20th century, everybody had their own "state style" making it hard to know what items were called or who you had to contact to get them.       "Dammit!", I shouted to the heavens, "Why in this era of digital everything, can you not get vital records online?!!" Well, it appears that you can in the form of Vital Chek. It's quite genius really. You just go in to the site, pick your state, state, city, and enter the information. They then pass this on to the vital statistics office where it needs to go and then you get the records you need a little down the road. How far down that road you'll get them depends a lot on the place you're requesting them for. One unfortunate side to this is that the site doesn't really notify you that well when a retrieval request has failed. The other sticky point is that if you need to send in a copy of a death certificate to get a birth certificate, then you'll have to do that the old-fashioned way and mail it by post.       It has made my this one crevice of my life a lot easier and I recommend it as a first go for anyone needing this kind of information in the USA.