Nuestra Señora de la Basura
Relampago has a new patron saint. He keeps vigil at her altar at the ranch, and every now and then she bestows her grace upon him.
In other news, I'm back from the ranch. I have no witty insights or stories, though I have a strong urge to travel to exotic locales thanks to having seen back to back to back Indiana Jones movies.
My current hankering is to go to this: a music festival in remote Mali called "Festival in the Desert." It's hosted by the Tuareg, a nomadic people known for the unique fact that their men wear veils though the women do not.
I actually learned a lot about the Tuareg from my favorite romance novel, called Silk and Secrets by Mary Jo Putney. I must have read that novel a couple dozen times, and frankly, it's done as much to teach me about the Central Asia as any other source. The story required an estranged couple to travel incognito from what is now central Iran to central Uzbekistan, and the woman chose to disguise herself as a Tuareg male to avoid any wanted attention from the others in the caravan. Yes, it's preposterous, but it's also fairly well researched. The woman is sort of kind of based off of Lady Hester Stanhope, so there's some basis of fact for this somewhat improbable story. (Read the wiki, Lady Hester kicks some serious ass.)
Anyhow, back to the present. This festival is about 60 miles north of Timbuktu, and apparently the only way to get there is either on camel back or by four wheel drive. There aren't any hotels or other amenities in the area, so festival attendees stay in tents that are generally made of camel skin. The descriptions I've read are pretty out of this world unbelievable.
It seems like it's more of an interactive affair than the festivals where you wander from stage to stage to watch musicians perform. I get the impression that there's a lot of improv and moving around from genre to genre, though obviously, Northern African music is what's really focused. In 2003, Robert Plant from Led Zepplin showed up, and maybe a handful of people there knew who he was. They respected his music though.
It's doubtful I'd be able to go next year, since I have a New Year's obligation that will sort of suck my travel budget for that time of the year. But it's now on my list of things to do before I die.
In other news, I'm back from the ranch. I have no witty insights or stories, though I have a strong urge to travel to exotic locales thanks to having seen back to back to back Indiana Jones movies.
My current hankering is to go to this: a music festival in remote Mali called "Festival in the Desert." It's hosted by the Tuareg, a nomadic people known for the unique fact that their men wear veils though the women do not.
I actually learned a lot about the Tuareg from my favorite romance novel, called Silk and Secrets by Mary Jo Putney. I must have read that novel a couple dozen times, and frankly, it's done as much to teach me about the Central Asia as any other source. The story required an estranged couple to travel incognito from what is now central Iran to central Uzbekistan, and the woman chose to disguise herself as a Tuareg male to avoid any wanted attention from the others in the caravan. Yes, it's preposterous, but it's also fairly well researched. The woman is sort of kind of based off of Lady Hester Stanhope, so there's some basis of fact for this somewhat improbable story. (Read the wiki, Lady Hester kicks some serious ass.)
Anyhow, back to the present. This festival is about 60 miles north of Timbuktu, and apparently the only way to get there is either on camel back or by four wheel drive. There aren't any hotels or other amenities in the area, so festival attendees stay in tents that are generally made of camel skin. The descriptions I've read are pretty out of this world unbelievable.
It seems like it's more of an interactive affair than the festivals where you wander from stage to stage to watch musicians perform. I get the impression that there's a lot of improv and moving around from genre to genre, though obviously, Northern African music is what's really focused. In 2003, Robert Plant from Led Zepplin showed up, and maybe a handful of people there knew who he was. They respected his music though.
It's doubtful I'd be able to go next year, since I have a New Year's obligation that will sort of suck my travel budget for that time of the year. But it's now on my list of things to do before I die.