This past weekend I photographed the State of Illinois Invitational Marching Band Championship at Illinois State University in Normal for Jolesch Photography, "America's Premier Provider of Group, School and Graduation Photography.
The images will be posted here: http://www.jolesch.com/temphomepage.aspx?EventID=5717
Next weekend I will photograph for Jolesch the Band of America regionals in Indianapolis, and the following week the BOA Grand Nationals, also in Indianapolis.
Event photography is work that I do to help pay the bills so that I can do other work such as this blog and my Peace Corps project. It is not a lot of money, but every little bit helps. To also help support my work please click on the Google ads.
Labels: band, bills, event photography, Illinois, Illinois State, livelihood, marching bands, money, Normal
The display of colors from the autumn leaves has been spectacular here in Indiana this year. These photos of fall foliage were taken at the Riverside Cemetery along the River Road outside of Carthage, Indiana. The cemetery is the resting place of many of the descendants from my family with the names Hill and Henley.
Labels: Autumn, Carthage, color, fall, fall foliage, fall leaves, Indiana, leaves, natural beauty, nature, Nikon, outdoors, Rush County, seasons, trees
It is the time of year for fall festivals, and the Luray Harvest Festival, held Sunday October 18, is a good representation. Luray is a small town in Henry County, Indiana. The festival was put on by Blue River Nazarene. Irving Materials, Inc. also sponsored the festival.
Here are some more photos from my recent visit to New Jersey. I lived in New Jersey for a year back in 1999, and when I tell people that many ask "what exit?". Well, I lived in Chatsworth in the Pinelands where my sister still lives. It is very different from the stereotypical view of New Jersey.
The above photos were taken in Burlington County. The cranberries are in a bog outside of Chatsworth. I also include two more photos with my sister's Golden Retriever Spring amongst some of the natural beauty of the Pinelands.
Labels: Burlington County, dogs, Golden Retrievers, nature, New Jersey
After traveling in South and Central America I am back in the U.S. I spent some time visiting my sister, Martha Windisch, in New Jersey. Martha lives in south Jersey and raises Golden Retrievers. She also runs her own in home pet dog training business called Personalized Dog Training. For more information go to: http://www.personalizeddogtraining.com/
In the above pictures the bottom one is of Martha and her dog Spring. Above that is a picture I took that will go on the side of Martha's new work van. The little girl's name is Gwen and she was an awesome model for this photo. Clue, the dog, did alright too with a little coaxing. Martha drives a van that runs on recycled cooking oil. Above that are two more pictures of Clue. The one with him holding a newspaper will also go on the side of Martha's van.
Labels: dog training, dogs, Golden Retrievers, New Jersey, Personalized Dog Training
Labels: Ecuador, Latin America, Quito, South America
Recently I was walking around Mariscal, the area of the new town in Quito where I and just about every other Gringo in Ecuador stay. I ate at my favorite barbecue place. There are tons of little cafes, bars and restaurants in Mariscal serving everything from Cuban Food to Mongolian and everything in between. Me being me, I can't pass up barbecue.
The barbecue restaurant had all the usual barbecue items on the menu from ribs to sandwiches and brisket. Actually, when I went to this restaurant (I will have to dig up the receipt to remind myself of the name), I had a Pastrami sandwich. I was having lunch and was in the mood for a sandwich and they had both Pastrami and corned beef. I like a good corned beef sandwich, but often they are not good. Pastrami always seems to be good. Not much you can do to mess that it up. And it was good.
As I was wandering around I saw an establishment advertising bicycle rentals. The establishment was called "Yellow Bike." An appropriate name since, as I observed, all the mountain bikes available for rent were painted a bright yellow.
I went in to inquire about the cost. It was something like a couple of dollars an hour or 10 bucks for half a day. The young man I talked to was very friendly. I vowed to come back the next day to try it out.
After I checked out the bike place I went to the old town and ended up with an impromptu tour given by an erudite Ecuadorian Electrical Engineer named Mario who had lived in New York for almost 20 years. Mario had recently returned to the land of his birth. He is my age, married young and seems to have become disillusioned with life in New York, and/or was going through a bit of a midlife crisis.
In any case he was very knowledgeable and proud of Quito. He could expound on a number of subjects and it was a pleasure to have him volunteer to show me around. An example of his abilities that impressed me was as we were discussing South American liberator Simon Bolivar I was just about to make reference to the Gabriel Garcia Marquez book, "In the General's Labyrinth," before I could even get the "G" sound out Mario sensed the reference, and said "Ah Yes, Marquez. He then proceeded to give his opinions on some of Marquez's work saying that," 'Love in the Time of Cholera' is his best known work, of course. I can even recite the first paragraph from memory." And Mario did recite the paragraph - in Spanish, of course. Having read the book in English I can not tell you if he had it memorized word for word, but I am betting that he did, because it sounded lyrical and poetic and very magically realistic. It made me wonder how much of Garcia Marquez's work I am not fully appreciating because I read it in translation. His work is amazing to me even in translation. Mario then posited that Marquez's best work is "1,000 years of Solitude". I agreed with him entirely. That book is definitely a masterpiece encompassing everything that makes Marquez a great author.
After coffee and more intellectually stimulating conversation I parted ways with Mario. Just another example of the fascinating people whom you would never meet if you did not travel.
The next day I decided I would spend most of it biking. I was a little tired of merely sightseeing. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy looking at historical buildings and such, but sometimes you need to do something else -something a little more strenuous -something to get your heart rate up, your blood pumping and get you breathing heavy.
After a lunch at my favorite barbecue place (I actually ate a pork barbecue sandwich this time. I must report that it was not bad. The barbecue sauce could have used a little more kick, but other than that, perfectly serviceable), I walked a block to the Yellow Bike headquarters.
A different young man, but equally friendly, was working the counter. I told him I wanted to rent a bike. We discussed the rates, and I settled on half a day at $10. It was about 1:00 p.m., so I would need to return by 5:00 p.m. That is when Yellow Bike closed for the day.
I was issued one of the bright yellow mountain bikes. It was a very solid bike. I am not sure of the brand, because all the bikes had been repainted in the Yellow Bike colors (bright yellow). The bikes also had black lettering saying, yellow bike. The bikes were also had on them the displayed prominently the phone number for the business as well as the phone number to call the police in case of emergency.
The bikes had three front gear rings, and five or more in back. They were definitely good quality bikes. My only beef was the seat. I raised it high as I like it and as it should be. When you are on the down stroke on the pedal your knee should be almost straight - maybe a very small bend if any. I was able to get the seat the right height on the seat post, but the seat itself was set at an angle, and this adjustment could not be changed without tools. I didn't realize this to be a problem until I got riding. the front of the seat was pointed up. I guess people who ride the seat too low to begin with don't have a problem with this, but they probably do and just don't know it.
The seat angled this way caused a few problems. First of all it just was not comfortable. Second, I always felt like I was sliding backwards off the seat. Third, the front of the seat was jabbing me in a very bad area every time I leaned forward. Not good.
The nice man working the counter gave me a map and a lock and also asked me if I needed a helmet. Foolishly I shrugged off the helmet. I know I should always wear a helmet, but I just don't like wearing a helmet. He also gave me a little tube of sun-block.
I was told that there was a bike route just a couple of blocks away. I decided to head for it. The bike route went all across the new town and even to the old town. I figured since I already saw the old town that I would head the other direction.
First of all I am not as good at reading a map as I think I am. I rode the direction that I thought would take me to the bike route. I had to climb fairly steep grade for about three blocks.
Less stop for a second a review a fact about Quito. It is located at over 9,000 feet. It is the second highest capital city after La Paz in Bolivia. I was born on the low flat land of Indiana. I have discovered that high altitude is not my friend. I thought that I planned things out to ease into the adjustment. I arrived by plane Monday evening. When I got off the plane one of the first signs that caught my attention (mainly because it was one of the few in entirely in English) read "You are at high altitude, walk slowly." I suspect it was only in English because the locals don't have a problem with altitude having adjusted to it from birth. In any case you don't have to tell me twice to take it easy. The rest of Monday was dedicated to "adjusting" to the altitude. In other words I did nothing but lie around in my hotel room.
Tuesday I took it easy as well, besides the walking. Sightseeing is not a very strenuous activity. I guess that is why you often see tour busloads of senior citizens sightseeing. That and what else do they have to do besides going to casinos and all you can eat buffets. But I stereotype, over generalize and digress.
So, I am wheezing as I am riding up this hill that did not look all that steep. I did take precautions. I took some preemptive hits on my inhaler before I even started to ride, and made sure I had it handy while riding. I also took a pill for altitude sickness, that I still am not sure if it was helpful or not.
I got to the top of the hill where I was expecting to see the Avenida Amazona Rios. What I came upon instead was the four lane 8 Octobre. I think that was the name, or maybe it was 8 Diecembre. In any case I really do not understand why in Latin America streets are often named after dates. I know these dates commemorate some important time in history, but we don't do that kind of thing here in the U.S. You don't drive down the Blvd 1776 or the June 6, 1994 Street (that's D-Day by the way).
I am just thinking of all the confusion this naming streets with dates can cause. What if you are setting an appointment to meet someone on an exact date on one of these streets? You might say to your date to be ... we will meet Tuesday October 3rd on the corner of 8 October and 12 December. Then your potential date gets confused and thinks that she is supposed to meet you on October 12th on the corner of 3 October and 8 December. It could be a problem. Of course I am sure it isn't because the locals all learned their historical dates in school and know exactly what the street name is referencing. I am sure they have all that memorized. After all the day before I had met an Ecuadorian who could recite the whole first paragraph of a novel without breaking a sweat.
So, at the top of the hill I decide that I must cross this busy road, and the only way to do that is to dismount the bike and walk across with the other pedestrians. I have learned that the only way to safely (whom am I kidding - there is no safe way - just less dangerous) cross streets in some Latin American cities is to situate yourself in the middle of a group of local pedestrians and walk when they walk. It is kind of a safety in numbers theory. It also works because the locals have been crossing streets successfully for a long time and know when and how to do it.
Crossing the street by walking the bike kind of defeated the whole purpose of renting a bike to begin with. I wasn't paying $10 to walk around with the bike.
I also realized it was hopeless for me to figure out where to go using the map. I decided to ride in one general direction until I got my bearings. I ended up riding through a University campus and went out of my way a bit because there was not a street that went all the way through.
Next I decided just to try to ride in a direction where there was less traffic. I quickly learned that bike riders are on the low end of the traffic pecking order in Quito. Drivers drive as if you are not there at all. It is your job to avoid them, not the other way around. Since they are much bigger than you and it would not feel to good to get ran over, it is a good idea to watch out for cars. They do all kinds of things to make life difficult for a bike rider. They do not use turn singles. They turn from the wrong lanes. They will turn right into you. Trust me the situation is very dangerous. I was ruing not accepting the helmet.
Cars are not your only obstacles. There are also busses and motorcycles. They also play by the same rules as the cars. They just go as if you don't exist. If you get run over, it is your own fault for being foolhardy enough to ride a bike in Quito.
I understand the situation with vehicles. I don't agree with it and wish it were different, but I can see why dominate. Pedestrians are a whole different story.
I finally came upon the bike route and was pleased to discovered that it is actually two bike lanes, well-marked that goes along the streets. The bike route was great. It had signs and was clearly marked as being separate from the streets and sidewalks.
Of course drivers didn't heed the signs or markings and you still had to watch out for cars making forays into bike path territory. You also had the added obstacle of the aforementioned pedestrians. They were apt to step right in front of you without any thought causing you to slam on your break or swerve to miss them. At one point I was riding through a little city park/plaza and the bike path was parallel with the sidewalk. Three different times passing through this area I encountered people walking two abreast in the middle of the clearly marked bike only route when if they just stepped two steps to the right they could be walking on a totally vacant sidewalk. There was no reason for them to be walking on the bike path. I had to come almost to a complete stop to avoid riding over the pedestrians.
I road a good stretch of the bike route in the new town and even took it to just the edge of the old town. I figured that since I already had seen everything I wanted to see in the old town that I didn't need to ride through it.
It was when I turned around and was heading back to the new town that I made my biggest mistake while riding. I had to cross a busy road to get to the new town. I had crossed it going the other way. There was lights, so it wasn't too difficult to cross with some patience.
The road I was crossing had turn lanes and islands, so I had to cross in segments. I crossed the turn lane to the island easily and was just about to make a dash for it across the other lanes when I saw a car coming that I knew was not going to stop even though I think it was supposed to.
I slammed on the breaks just before riding off the island. Well, being on a strange bike I didn't take into account that it was set up differently from my bikes. Everyone who rides a lot knows that with hand breaks it is not a good idea to apply more pressure to the front break than the back break. I had forgot that the break levels were reversed from what I am used to on my own bike, so I jammed on the front break with all my strength to keep from riding out in front of this oncoming car.
I will give credit where it is due. The bikes of Yellow Bike are well-maintained. The breaks are adjusted and work very well. Too well. Slamming the front break caused me to do a front wheelie and then be catapulted over the handle bar. I landed on my knees scraping them up really good. Nice set of road rash. Very painful.
Other than that I was not hurt too bad, it just caused me to entirely question my own judgment and sanity while cursing the drivers of Quito.
I rode around a little more just to prove that the incident had not defeated me. I returned the bike after two hours of hair-raising, white knuckle city riding. When the nice young man at the counter asked how it went, I told him - great. Then I limped back to my hotel room to attend to my wounds, which were merely adding to scrapes, cuts and bruises from previous accidents on this trip.
The barbecue restaurant had all the usual barbecue items on the menu from ribs to sandwiches and brisket. Actually, when I went to this restaurant (I will have to dig up the receipt to remind myself of the name), I had a Pastrami sandwich. I was having lunch and was in the mood for a sandwich and they had both Pastrami and corned beef. I like a good corned beef sandwich, but often they are not good. Pastrami always seems to be good. Not much you can do to mess that it up. And it was good.
As I was wandering around I saw an establishment advertising bicycle rentals. The establishment was called "Yellow Bike." An appropriate name since, as I observed, all the mountain bikes available for rent were painted a bright yellow.
I went in to inquire about the cost. It was something like a couple of dollars an hour or 10 bucks for half a day. The young man I talked to was very friendly. I vowed to come back the next day to try it out.
After I checked out the bike place I went to the old town and ended up with an impromptu tour given by an erudite Ecuadorian Electrical Engineer named Mario who had lived in New York for almost 20 years. Mario had recently returned to the land of his birth. He is my age, married young and seems to have become disillusioned with life in New York, and/or was going through a bit of a midlife crisis.
In any case he was very knowledgeable and proud of Quito. He could expound on a number of subjects and it was a pleasure to have him volunteer to show me around. An example of his abilities that impressed me was as we were discussing South American liberator Simon Bolivar I was just about to make reference to the Gabriel Garcia Marquez book, "In the General's Labyrinth," before I could even get the "G" sound out Mario sensed the reference, and said "Ah Yes, Marquez. He then proceeded to give his opinions on some of Marquez's work saying that," 'Love in the Time of Cholera' is his best known work, of course. I can even recite the first paragraph from memory." And Mario did recite the paragraph - in Spanish, of course. Having read the book in English I can not tell you if he had it memorized word for word, but I am betting that he did, because it sounded lyrical and poetic and very magically realistic. It made me wonder how much of Garcia Marquez's work I am not fully appreciating because I read it in translation. His work is amazing to me even in translation. Mario then posited that Marquez's best work is "1,000 years of Solitude". I agreed with him entirely. That book is definitely a masterpiece encompassing everything that makes Marquez a great author.
After coffee and more intellectually stimulating conversation I parted ways with Mario. Just another example of the fascinating people whom you would never meet if you did not travel.
The next day I decided I would spend most of it biking. I was a little tired of merely sightseeing. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy looking at historical buildings and such, but sometimes you need to do something else -something a little more strenuous -something to get your heart rate up, your blood pumping and get you breathing heavy.
After a lunch at my favorite barbecue place (I actually ate a pork barbecue sandwich this time. I must report that it was not bad. The barbecue sauce could have used a little more kick, but other than that, perfectly serviceable), I walked a block to the Yellow Bike headquarters.
A different young man, but equally friendly, was working the counter. I told him I wanted to rent a bike. We discussed the rates, and I settled on half a day at $10. It was about 1:00 p.m., so I would need to return by 5:00 p.m. That is when Yellow Bike closed for the day.
I was issued one of the bright yellow mountain bikes. It was a very solid bike. I am not sure of the brand, because all the bikes had been repainted in the Yellow Bike colors (bright yellow). The bikes also had black lettering saying, yellow bike. The bikes were also had on them the displayed prominently the phone number for the business as well as the phone number to call the police in case of emergency.
The bikes had three front gear rings, and five or more in back. They were definitely good quality bikes. My only beef was the seat. I raised it high as I like it and as it should be. When you are on the down stroke on the pedal your knee should be almost straight - maybe a very small bend if any. I was able to get the seat the right height on the seat post, but the seat itself was set at an angle, and this adjustment could not be changed without tools. I didn't realize this to be a problem until I got riding. the front of the seat was pointed up. I guess people who ride the seat too low to begin with don't have a problem with this, but they probably do and just don't know it.
The seat angled this way caused a few problems. First of all it just was not comfortable. Second, I always felt like I was sliding backwards off the seat. Third, the front of the seat was jabbing me in a very bad area every time I leaned forward. Not good.
The nice man working the counter gave me a map and a lock and also asked me if I needed a helmet. Foolishly I shrugged off the helmet. I know I should always wear a helmet, but I just don't like wearing a helmet. He also gave me a little tube of sun-block.
I was told that there was a bike route just a couple of blocks away. I decided to head for it. The bike route went all across the new town and even to the old town. I figured since I already saw the old town that I would head the other direction.
First of all I am not as good at reading a map as I think I am. I rode the direction that I thought would take me to the bike route. I had to climb fairly steep grade for about three blocks.
Less stop for a second a review a fact about Quito. It is located at over 9,000 feet. It is the second highest capital city after La Paz in Bolivia. I was born on the low flat land of Indiana. I have discovered that high altitude is not my friend. I thought that I planned things out to ease into the adjustment. I arrived by plane Monday evening. When I got off the plane one of the first signs that caught my attention (mainly because it was one of the few in entirely in English) read "You are at high altitude, walk slowly." I suspect it was only in English because the locals don't have a problem with altitude having adjusted to it from birth. In any case you don't have to tell me twice to take it easy. The rest of Monday was dedicated to "adjusting" to the altitude. In other words I did nothing but lie around in my hotel room.
Tuesday I took it easy as well, besides the walking. Sightseeing is not a very strenuous activity. I guess that is why you often see tour busloads of senior citizens sightseeing. That and what else do they have to do besides going to casinos and all you can eat buffets. But I stereotype, over generalize and digress.
So, I am wheezing as I am riding up this hill that did not look all that steep. I did take precautions. I took some preemptive hits on my inhaler before I even started to ride, and made sure I had it handy while riding. I also took a pill for altitude sickness, that I still am not sure if it was helpful or not.
I got to the top of the hill where I was expecting to see the Avenida Amazona Rios. What I came upon instead was the four lane 8 Octobre. I think that was the name, or maybe it was 8 Diecembre. In any case I really do not understand why in Latin America streets are often named after dates. I know these dates commemorate some important time in history, but we don't do that kind of thing here in the U.S. You don't drive down the Blvd 1776 or the June 6, 1994 Street (that's D-Day by the way).
I am just thinking of all the confusion this naming streets with dates can cause. What if you are setting an appointment to meet someone on an exact date on one of these streets? You might say to your date to be ... we will meet Tuesday October 3rd on the corner of 8 October and 12 December. Then your potential date gets confused and thinks that she is supposed to meet you on October 12th on the corner of 3 October and 8 December. It could be a problem. Of course I am sure it isn't because the locals all learned their historical dates in school and know exactly what the street name is referencing. I am sure they have all that memorized. After all the day before I had met an Ecuadorian who could recite the whole first paragraph of a novel without breaking a sweat.
So, at the top of the hill I decide that I must cross this busy road, and the only way to do that is to dismount the bike and walk across with the other pedestrians. I have learned that the only way to safely (whom am I kidding - there is no safe way - just less dangerous) cross streets in some Latin American cities is to situate yourself in the middle of a group of local pedestrians and walk when they walk. It is kind of a safety in numbers theory. It also works because the locals have been crossing streets successfully for a long time and know when and how to do it.
Crossing the street by walking the bike kind of defeated the whole purpose of renting a bike to begin with. I wasn't paying $10 to walk around with the bike.
I also realized it was hopeless for me to figure out where to go using the map. I decided to ride in one general direction until I got my bearings. I ended up riding through a University campus and went out of my way a bit because there was not a street that went all the way through.
Next I decided just to try to ride in a direction where there was less traffic. I quickly learned that bike riders are on the low end of the traffic pecking order in Quito. Drivers drive as if you are not there at all. It is your job to avoid them, not the other way around. Since they are much bigger than you and it would not feel to good to get ran over, it is a good idea to watch out for cars. They do all kinds of things to make life difficult for a bike rider. They do not use turn singles. They turn from the wrong lanes. They will turn right into you. Trust me the situation is very dangerous. I was ruing not accepting the helmet.
Cars are not your only obstacles. There are also busses and motorcycles. They also play by the same rules as the cars. They just go as if you don't exist. If you get run over, it is your own fault for being foolhardy enough to ride a bike in Quito.
I understand the situation with vehicles. I don't agree with it and wish it were different, but I can see why dominate. Pedestrians are a whole different story.
I finally came upon the bike route and was pleased to discovered that it is actually two bike lanes, well-marked that goes along the streets. The bike route was great. It had signs and was clearly marked as being separate from the streets and sidewalks.
Of course drivers didn't heed the signs or markings and you still had to watch out for cars making forays into bike path territory. You also had the added obstacle of the aforementioned pedestrians. They were apt to step right in front of you without any thought causing you to slam on your break or swerve to miss them. At one point I was riding through a little city park/plaza and the bike path was parallel with the sidewalk. Three different times passing through this area I encountered people walking two abreast in the middle of the clearly marked bike only route when if they just stepped two steps to the right they could be walking on a totally vacant sidewalk. There was no reason for them to be walking on the bike path. I had to come almost to a complete stop to avoid riding over the pedestrians.
I road a good stretch of the bike route in the new town and even took it to just the edge of the old town. I figured that since I already had seen everything I wanted to see in the old town that I didn't need to ride through it.
It was when I turned around and was heading back to the new town that I made my biggest mistake while riding. I had to cross a busy road to get to the new town. I had crossed it going the other way. There was lights, so it wasn't too difficult to cross with some patience.
The road I was crossing had turn lanes and islands, so I had to cross in segments. I crossed the turn lane to the island easily and was just about to make a dash for it across the other lanes when I saw a car coming that I knew was not going to stop even though I think it was supposed to.
I slammed on the breaks just before riding off the island. Well, being on a strange bike I didn't take into account that it was set up differently from my bikes. Everyone who rides a lot knows that with hand breaks it is not a good idea to apply more pressure to the front break than the back break. I had forgot that the break levels were reversed from what I am used to on my own bike, so I jammed on the front break with all my strength to keep from riding out in front of this oncoming car.
I will give credit where it is due. The bikes of Yellow Bike are well-maintained. The breaks are adjusted and work very well. Too well. Slamming the front break caused me to do a front wheelie and then be catapulted over the handle bar. I landed on my knees scraping them up really good. Nice set of road rash. Very painful.
Other than that I was not hurt too bad, it just caused me to entirely question my own judgment and sanity while cursing the drivers of Quito.
I rode around a little more just to prove that the incident had not defeated me. I returned the bike after two hours of hair-raising, white knuckle city riding. When the nice young man at the counter asked how it went, I told him - great. Then I limped back to my hotel room to attend to my wounds, which were merely adding to scrapes, cuts and bruises from previous accidents on this trip.
Labels: bicycle, bike, Ecuador, Latin America, Quito, South America
